Mary, Lottie and Jack… Fanchon the Cricket (1915), Flicker Alley Blu-ray/DVD

It’s 1915 and we’re approaching peak Pickford in the second of eight feature films she made in the year of her old mucker DW’s Birth and one of six to be directed by James Kirkwood with scenarios from Mary’s pal Frances Marion also in the majority. Pickford was not yet in full command of the means of production as Cari Beauchamp notes in the Flicker Alley booklet, but she was fiercely protective of her career and determined to put in a typecast-proof performance as the wildcat “waif” that – now – we view as exemplary.

 

Fanchon provides an abundance of opportunities for Mary to demonstrate her winning ways and to explode out of the screen against the gorgeous backdrops of Delaware Gap, Pennsylvania. Some have criticised Kirkwood’s pacing but he certainly knew how to make the most out of his friend Mary; just pick the right location and let her roll. So many times, Mary demonstrates her extraordinary energy with her bodily ability to express emotion standing out amongst the dense woodland, against river and lake and a cast who are quite unable to draw the eye away from her.

 

Mary Pickford sits on the fence

Beauchamp describes the waif as an “inspirational” character in amongst a contemporary cinematic universe of matrons, vamps and adventuresses; “… there is a modernity to the waif with her backbone of steel as she stands up against hypocrisy, bullies and entitlement.” Watching with my Gen-Z daughter she would agree and it’s striking that such characters were on screen for the majority of cinema goers who were women yet to gain the vote.

 

Mary’s Fanchon is girlish but knowing and she knows what she wants in her man; someone who choses to love her and who is steadfast; she takes charge of her romantic situation and having worked her opportunity, expects the men to be honourable. If not… she’ll go her own way. She, genuinely, does not need a man to define herself and – according to our count – Fanchon passes the Bechdel test on a number of occasions.

 

Frank Standing and Lotte Pickford

Set in Eighteenth Century France and based on George Sand’s novel La Petite Fadette, the narrative is fairly light for first half of the film before fitting in – some – of the source material’s complexities. That strikes me as good work from Frances Marion (and Kirkwood) which allows the focus to be on Fanchon the free spirit and her pursuit of Jack Standing’s Landry Barbeau. Landry is from a family of good standing while Fanchon lives in a woodland hut with her grandmother (Gertrude Norman) who’s old and wizened enough to be regarded as a witch.

 

Fanchon’s problem – apart from lack of contemporary fashions – is that Landry is seeing a more respectable women called Madelon played by Lottie Pickford. Lottie was her sister’s junior by one year and, on this display, not in the same league as an actress (who was?) but she does a decent job as the spoilt brat determined to hold on to her man as much for pride as anything else. There’s also a cameo from Jack Pickford as a local bully who Mary has to fight in scenes that surely must have taken place in the family home in Toronto.

 

Jack vs Mary

Jack picks on Landry’s brother Didier (Richard Lee) who is described as a “half-wit”. It is interesting to see how films from this period treat mentally disabled characters and whilst Didier is a sympathetic character, the only one who treats him as an equal is Fanchon with the local youngsters tiring of him and chasing him away when it suits and his father (Russell Bassett) pushes him around. Are we supposed to see Didier and Fanchon as similarly outcast, he for neurodiversity and she for outrageous independence and “poor” blood? That’s maybe a stretch but why not?

 

 

Cinematography is from Edward Wynard and there are breath-taking shots of the locations – most of the action is outside adding a string sense of place to the action – as well as the lead. Kevin Brownlow is not the only one to have pointed to the visceral impact of Mary Pickford in this film; her hair is as long as I’ve ever seen it and sometimes forms a sunlit halo over her supercharged features and she’s definitely not the “the girl with the curls” but someone wiser and more artful.  Even with a dearth of clos-ups, the actress conveys an emotional impact few could hope to match and here it’s so very natural. How many scenes are just made up of her reacting to events off screen in well-chosen locations or amusing herself by playing with her shadow or just skipping with arms aloft, powerfully pantomiming joy and resilience.

 

The locals don't know what to make of Fanchon

Gradually the story solidifies as Fanchon starts to impress Landry, as someone with more spirit than Madelon but he must overcome not just his own doubts but the approbation of their peers and his own father. The gap between them seems too large to cross but Fanchon is nothing if not irrepressible but she’s also totally honest; she wants happiness on her own terms…

 

Fanchon is the only film to feature all three siblings and it’s very sad that at the time of her death, Mary thought it was lost. The Mary Pickford Foundation found a nitrate duplicate at Le Cinémathèque Française and combining this with an incomplete nitrate print at the BFI, a multi-national effort led to this crystal-clear restoration.

 

The MPF commissioned a new score in modern style from Julian Ducatenzeiler and Andy Gladbach which moves along very well with the film if occasionally foreshadowing the emotional journey. We enjoyed it, it’s upbeat and inventive and has the spirit of Pickford’s character. Those looking for organ or piano traditionalism may not agree but as a package this is a fun film and a side of Pickford we really need to see more of.

 

The Flicker Alley set is available direct from their site and really does the MPF proud in making available more of the work that explains her status as one of the founders of cinematic acting and one of the first superstars.

Griffith’s Gate… America (1924), BFI with Costas Fotopoulos

"You say you want a revolution…?” This film had its genesis in a letter from the Daughters of the American Revolution to Will Hays asking why there hadn’t been any major films about their revolution. This sounded wholesome enough for Mr Hays and strings were duly pulled resulting in this, what surely has to be the politest film about the war of independence.

America portrays the oppressors as a mix of mercenary Native Americans and home grown renegades led by a malevolent officer with a lust for power: Captain Butler (a quite superb performance from Lionel Barrymore). The version that was projected at the BFI seems to be the “British cut” which was toned down for domestic audiences and re-titled Love and Sacrifice. We do get the “no taxation without representation” part but the worst aspects of the war, civilian massacres and scorched earth, are attributed to rogue elements.

Neil Hamilton and Carol Dempster share a lobby card

But… let’s not go all historical or I’ll be on this for days. Needless to say, George Washington’s acceptance and return of the – surrendering – General Cornwallis's sword did not actually happen as the Brit refused to meet formally with Washington, or to attend the ceremony of surrender… Sore losers as it turned out.

The film cost United Artists around a million dollars and, whilst it didn’t do for them what Michael Cimino managed with Heaven’s Gate, it curtailed Griffith’s ability to undertake projects of similar scale in future. As with that later film, there are passages that don’t always fit the pace, as if something is still missing but the version projected was some 175 minutes long and is as close to the full-Monty we’re likely to see. I wouldn’t say it’s as good as Heaven’s Gate, but it has some stunning sequences.

Billy Bitzer is on camera to help record some full-scale battle scenes adding his own flourishes as riders are silhouetted against a dusky sky, troops advance under a dawning sun and Bunker Hill is viewed through the rigging of a British man of war. There are also a number of moments when the camera rides amongst the charging soldiers – Abel Gance was almost certainly watching – and over rough terrain when the cavalry attacks – mounted on another horse perhaps?

Bitzer's camera tracks the men and horses over battlefields

The war scenes are worth the price of entry alone and Griffith went to great pains in representing the battles of Lexington, Concord and Bunker Hill. He may have had a cast of thousands rather than the tens of thousands for Birth  and Intolerance but he makes good use of them building genuine tension using his individual heroes in his usual contrapuntal way. The closing sequence sees the rebels riding hard to rescue a beleaguered fort housing their women and children. They are distracted by a skirmish with British troops before they can ride onto the fort, Griffith cuts to individual struggles and reactions, slowly people are killed and the forts begins to give way; there’s no way the rescuers can make it is there?

Carol Dempster: not Lillian but not bad either

Those individuals have often been criticised and none more so than Carol Dempster who, whilst not being Lillian Gish (a many dozens have pointed out), is Miss Nancy Montague the daughter of the loyalist Justice Montague (Erville Alderson). On this evidence I thought Carol did a swell job and it is not her acting that gets in the way of on-screen chemistry with the dashing Nathan Holden (Neil Hamilton: how good looking was Commissioner Gordon in his youth?!), it’s the story-sprawl. Then again: I believed it and realistically, it’s hard to play the American Revolution as a romance.

Brilliant Lionel Barrymore

Charles Emmett Mack is interesting as Nancy’s brother Charles a sword-wielding playboy who won’t shirk from the fight when he sees injustice for himself; he joins the rebel fight and bravely gives his life as, mortally wounded, he crawls across the battle field to hand his comrades some desperately needed gunpowder: the kind of vignette Griffith excelled at and it is well-acted.

The aforementioned Barrymore is the undoubted star performer and his centered theatrical expertise blasts most of the rest of the screen as some over-emote and generally gurn either as over-enthused baddies or misplaced comic relief.

Louis Wolheim gets mean as Capt. Peter Hare

There is some truth to his character - a native New Yorker who trained and practiced as a lawyer and became an Indian agent for the King.  This legal training did not seem to instil adherence to the concept of justice and he was indeed amongst the most hated loyalist of the region especially after his role in the 1778 Cherry Valley massacre in which a mixed force of Loyalists, British soldiers, Seneca and Mohawks under his command killed some 30 settlers, mostly women and children.

The Rebels battle through snow and flame

In the film, he is the focus for revolutionary sentiment – the taxation thing is all well and good but here’s the cutting edge of colonial brutality - leading his cartoon band of baddies into action and fuel-injecting the rebel cause as the film builds to a climax.

The scenes of the “loyalist” mercenaries attacking women and children still shock and, when they break down the fort’s outer wall, the ensuing assault on these innocents is uncomfortable to watch… maybe not so “polite” after all…

Massive set piece conflagrations abound!

America is nearly three hours long and it is tribute enough to DW that it doesn’t feel that long. Yes there were a lot of lengthy title cards and some uneven pacing but there were dramatic sweeps the equal of any contemporary in the rapidly-changing cinema of the early twenties. Some reviews of the time complained the Griffith was getting dated but isn’t that always the way when someone has been so ground-breaking – so vital… Innovation is subject to diminishing returns as others pick up, learn and refine and even the most brilliant of artists cannot maintain the same momentum. You get the feeling that DW needed time and more sympathetic collaborators – off screen – to really move on…

A tip of the hat too goes to Costas Fotopoulos who played along with remarkable energy and invention: he played a major part in helping us re-connect with the spirit of Griffith’s enterprise: bold, ambitious and with hands of steel!

The Red Man's View (1909)

Before the main film, we saw a very interesting short The Red Man's View from 1909, which showed a different side to Griffith the patriot and southern gentleman. Here he deals with the impact of the white man’s expansion on native cultures. The Indians are cruelly pushed off their land even though their chief looks close to death. The white men aim to keep young Minnewanna (Mary’s sister Lottie Pickford) but finally relent after the chief’s death and the pleading of her sweetheart Silver Eagle and (Owen Moore - Mary’s future husband).

It’s a poignant study and underplayed enough to let the audience draw their own conclusions about the film maker’s sympathies…

Lottie second left... Owen Moore in the middle, I think?

The BFI’s Griffith season continues throughout June culminating in those massive blockbusters the paved the way for tonight’s main film, Griffith’s last really big moment...

Promotional poster showing America's spectacular sequences