Dorothy and Clara go filming. Get Your Man (1927) with Meg Morley/The Wild Party (1929)

She was too tough for Hollywood most of her movies were hits which Hollywood loves but she didn’t modify her looks or ways or manner and as a woman directing movies she was looked on by most as a freak and as that kind of woman she was accepted less and less. 

George Cukor on Arzner’s eventual departure from Hollywood

 

Before we get to Clara we had an entertaining and revelatory panel discussion of her director Dorothy Arzner’s silent films hosted by Bryony Dixon, BFI National Archive curator and featuring season curator Caroline Cassin, provider of the quotation above, and film historian Pamela Hutchinson also of Silent London.

 

Arzner was the missing link of female directors in Hollywood, bridging the considerable gap between late period Lois Webber and the emergence of Ida Lupino in a hostile environment that treated the idea of female directors almost as a novelty. She was, however, a “novelty” who made hit pictures with all of her four silent films being successful followed by her run up until the Joan Crawford vehicle, The Bride Wore Red (1937). She made just two films after this, including Dance, Girl Dance (1940) – screening later this month – partly because, as others had found, especially after the passing of Irving Thalberg, there was no escaping the displeasure of noted homophobe Louis B Meyer.

 

How Arzner survived so long is illustrated not only by her run of success and sheer professionalism, but also by her privileged background. Unlike, say, Billy Haines, who paid the Hollywood price for being openly involved in what Joan Crawford called the strongest marriage in Hollywood with Jimmie Shields, Arzner did not have to care what others thought of her sexual preference – she had a forty-year relationship with dancer/choreographer Marion Morgan – firstly because she was of independent financial means and secondly because she was a force of nature determined to be who she wanted to be; and that was very profitable for the powers that be. In fairness to Billy though, he made a hugely successful second career, aided by customers like Joan, Marion Davies and Eleanor Boardman. Joan also stayed friends with Dorothy and got her work directing her in Pepsi commercials later on.

 

Arzner described her time filme editing as the happiest of her working life... 35 films in one year alone.

Caroline Cassin explained the director’s background and how she gave up on her study of medicine and joined the medical corps in World War One before being drawn towards the emerging art of the cinema as a force for social good. With all the confidence of her background she started working her way up the chain in movies from a disastrous start as a typist to script and film editing with her meticulous eye for detail and inventiveness gaining her big break cutting stock footage of bullfighting in Spain with Valentino miming around in California for Blood and Sand. Further editing work followed as her discipline was recognised and she was kept very busy by the likes of James Cruze and others.

 

Arzner was “very game” as Hutchinson says, learning how to play with the boys, working out how to be Hollywood’s female director of big films, being on set dressed as a cowboy during The Covered Wagon and as a sailor for Old Ironsides, she had to prove herself theatrically that she knew what she was doing. Even Frances Marion – script-writer supreme – struggled with directing but Arzner was happy to take the leadership role ignoring expectations of both sexes.

 

Cassin says she was in a very privileged position an allowance from her father that enabled her to take more risks and pick and choose in her career. Also, as Hutchinson points out, previous women filmmakers from Alice Guy-Blaché, Lois Webber, Nell Shipman… had been married and this helped them to both fit into the heterosexual film business model and to fund productions. After divorcing their men, all three struggled to maintain their position, not so for Dorothy.

 

The final step to directing followed an enormous bluff from Arzner when she announced to Walter Wanger, the head of Paramount's New York studio, that she would have to change from Paramount to Columbia in order to do the work she wanted. Duly spooked Wanger gave her the script for the now-lost Fashions for Women (1927) featuring Ester Ralston in her first starring role, which emerged a hit enabling a repeat, Ten Modern Commandments (1927), with Ralston and Neil Hamilton, and a further film, Manhattan Cocktail (1928), with Nancy Carrol and Richard Arlen of which the splendid surviving final minute was shown, an array of silhouetted dancers with dynamic montage beyond, Skyline Dance by Slavko Vorkapich.

 

Her third silent film, and the only one largely surviving, was Get Your Man (1927), with Clara Bow before she was given the chance to direct the studio’s first talkie again with Bow, The Wild Party (1929).  The roots of Clara’s success in The Wild Party can be seen in the relationship she established with Arzner during the making of Get Your Man (1927) and there are some similarities between the films notably the freedom of expression the director encouraged in her vibrant star and the trust is clear to see as in both silent and sound, Clara is at her best; an emoting powerhouse making the most even of some of the bum lines in The Wild Party. How good do you have to be to overcome lines that even Frederick March struggled with?

Get Your Man (1927) with Meg Morley

 

The BFI blurb described Get Your Man as a triumphant celebration of female sexuality and it’s hard to disagree watching this precious 35mm recovery/restoration: it’s not quite complete with two reels missing but the key moments are intact and others are covered by new intertitles to illustrate the humour and vibrancy of the story and Bow’s supernatural energies.

 

It begins in a modern fairy-tale France, with a young rich boy pledging to marry a young rich girl when they are both of age and soon we fast-forward 17 years to see the grown boy, Robert as played by Charles “Buddy” Rogers who had romanced Clara in the epic Wings, released in the summer of 1927. His father looks admiringly at the young woman, Simone de Villeneuve (Josephine Dunn) who clearly meets expectations of class and society:

 

She will make a fine wife, son. Imagine an innocent young girl… in an age when there aren’t any!

Buddy and Bow

 

Oh boy, clearly no one is expecting Clara Bow to arrive in this story. And arrive, she duly does as Nancy, a socialite on holiday in Paris at the same time that Robert has been sent there to collect the family pearls that father, Duc de Bellecontre (Josef Swickard) has sent to be re-strung for his son’s impending nuptials with Simone (Josephine Dunn) and tout Les de Villeneuves! The rom-com starts as Nancy nicks Robert’s taxi, then they meet again in the perfumery – cue astonished Clara close-up and winsome Buddy smile – before chance throws them together in the Wax Museum.

 

This sequence was choreographed by Marion Morgan, is a delight as Nancy is confused by life-like automatons and impressed with the tableaux vivant of Joan of Arc at the coronation of Charles VII; it’s all a bit more impressive than Madame Taussauds’ in Blackpool! Sadly, the whole sequence does not survive but there’s enough left in this charming build up to the inevitable spark with Robert. They meet as Robert crouches over, apparently part of a scene of murder before looking at Nancy and we see that “sweet Santa!” look from Bow – “it must be fate!”. He knows the museum off by heart and so offers to give her a guided tour, even though his memory is not quite as good as he promised.

 

This is where the film has the missing reels and the restoration used new title cards to fill the gap before part four resumes the moving pictures. Essentially it’s Nancy and fate versus the patriarchy as she has to battle not just Robert’s feeling of responsibility but the best laid plans of the Duc and Simone’s father, Marquis de Villeneuve (Harvey Clark); that’s three men vs one woman, they don’t stand a chance.

 

Clara waits to make a call

As Pamela said in the introduction, the film zips along at some pace and whilst it knows you know exactly where it’s going it contrives to entertain and surprise all the same! The ending is satisfactory in all the right ways and whilst a point has been made for the romantic audience they’ve also seen the might of Clara’s pluck blow away every obstacle and dusty preconception. Arzner enables her cast but especially Clara whose exuberance and expression does rather overshadow Buddy’s reliance on his good looks; he’s a charmer, but she’s a charmer who can act and rightly Dorothy gives her the screen time to show exactly what she can do.

Variety (12 Oct. 1927) described this picture as an ‘all-woman production’ with script from Hope Loring and Alice Brand Leahy, with choreographer Morgan and business manager Henrietta Cohn. It illustrates that there was a marketing benefit in Arzner’s position with the majority of filmgoers also “all-women”.

  

Meg Morley, “all-talented” herself, completed the experience with Clara-like energy and invention of her own with her modern-day jazz sensibilities playing catch and chase with the film’s rhythms and spirit. Meg enhances every film she accompanies and I was almost encouraged into an aisle-side Charleston by my daughter! This spirit lives on and Our Beth is keen to find out more…

 

 

The Wild Party (1929)

 

In Silent Women – Pioneers of Cinema, Francesca Stephens describes how Arzner brought a unique sensibility to the development of female characters – not just a subversion of the all-pervading male gaze but a presentation of believable and real personas. This could hardly be more apparent than in the opening scenes of The Wild Party as Clara Bow and her mates clown around in the dorm, relaxed and thoroughly modern.

 

Clara was a kinetic actress though and to enable her full range of expression Arzner devised the boom microphone, getting her sound man to lash the mic to a broom in order to allow both artists and camera to move more freely. So, rather than hover nervously within range of a static mic, Clara is free to run wild and gives a compelling and genuine performance and if she was scared or distracted by the microphone you wouldn’t know. Both Fredric March and the under-used Marceline Day join in the general over-enunciation of this period so cruelly lampooned in Singing in the rain.

 

Clara with Marceline Day as Bo-Peep

Clara plays Stella Ames, the loudest and most liked gal in her dorm of the all-girl Winston College. She is, as has been said elsewhere, very like Clara Bow or at least the Clara we think we know - bubbly, flirty, sassy and never someone to let a good party get in the way of study. One of the most under-rated actresses of the era, Bow was an emoting wonder able to hover between tears and smiles all in one moment of unconscious flow and here Arzner was able to harness this all in a sound context. And the voice? Pretty good as it goes no trace of Brooklyn to my Anglo-ears and clear diction that sounds more relaxed and natural than some of her fellow actors including Mr March.

 

In fairness Arzner clearly established a relaxed working environment and the antics in the dorm are naturalistic and familiar with banter and japes a-plenty. With the exception of her best pal, Helen Owens (Shirley O'Hara), chained to her desk studying hard and aiming high, the others are keen on a good time. There’s a Babs (Adrienne Dore) – there had to be! – and a gaggle of wise-crackin’, nail-paintin’, gum-chewin’ pals who generally treat schooling as that dreary period of obligation sandwiched between the hangover and the hair of the dog: Mazie (Alice Adair), Thelma (Kay Bryant), Gwen (Marguerite Cramer) and more.

 

Balanced against this is the strait-laced Faith Morgan (Marceline Day), something like the Head Girl who makes no secret of her disdain for the 24-hour party people. But then there’s the college creep, Eva Tutt (Joyce Compton) who’ll split on anyone if she thinks she’ll benefit. Given the girl’s lifestyles, Eva will find plenty of tales to tell and she listens well to Stella’s story of accidentally climbing into the wrong bed bunk on the train returning from vacation. The bunk is already occupied by a handsome man and the two narrowly avoid reputational damage.

 

Fredric March and Clara Bow

However, it turns out this man is Professor James 'Gil' Gilmore (Fredric March) the new anthropology teacher and queue rom-com friction between attracted opposites. Then there’s a genuinely unpleasant sequence in which the girls are harassed by a group of toughs who proceed to kidnap Stella with who knows what intention. The other girls alert Gil who runs off after the car cutting across the country roads to intervene and rescue the distressed dame. The relieved couple soon fall into each other’s arms but back in class it’s business as usual and Stella resumes her partying ways… the film isn’t quite ready to succumb to narrative convention just yet.

 

OK, the story is standard fare with some cringe moments relating to “savages” but what makes it stand out is the focus on the women – the men are almost incidental and surely this is one of the few films of this period that would pass the Bechdel test? It’s about love and loyalty and all the genuine feeling is between the women whether it’s Faith’s realisation of Stella’s goodness or the latter’s unselfish and steadfast love for her friend Helen.

 

It’s another grand showcase for Bow’s star power and she delivers, punching her way into the sound era with conviction. In the end it would be external factors that curtailed her career but she shone so brightly and her director did right by her here and in their silent film. Who knows what could have been had they carried on working together… Clara Bow was made for the Thirties, Pre-Code, Screwball… she had it all. Unlike some Clara clearly had no problem whatsoever with working for a female director and it showed!

 

When Connie met Johnnie… The Beloved Rogue (1927), John Sweeney, Kennington Bioscope

Michelle Facey’s well-researched introductions are a major feature of this temple of film ephemera, and she also turns a good phrase which is why I just have to steal her quip about the two main stars of tonight’s main feature. It truly was the meeting of two different cinematic cultures and Michelle showed a shot of Mr Barrymore, in costume, greeting Herr Veidt with a collection of some of Hollywood’s finest including script writer of this film, Paul Bern (the future, tragically short-lived, Mr Jean Harlow), Ernst Lubitsch and others.

 

I’d watched the Kino DVD of The Beloved Rogue some time ago but tonight we were treated to a 16mm copy that, as all the talk of the BFI’s Film on Film Festival reinforced, was a completely different experience, especially with this venue, this crowd and the wonderful improvisations of John Sweeney’s accompaniment. The source for the 16mm was different to that of the Kino version, no tints and missing the final chapter – a DVD transfer or the same generation print was used to close out the film – and, it looked and felt different, with the Bioscope’s projector whirring away at the back of the auditorium, there were new or newly-imagined details. The only true photographic memory is, of course, celluloid, a physical interaction with what has happened, light’s traces changing chemical compounds in ways digital is deluded if it imagines its impersonations are anything other than a facsimile.

 

John Barrymore’s attempt to out-Fairbanks Douglas has met with mixed reviews over the years, not least from himself (he described himself as a “ham” after the premier) and whilst his fan Orson Welles who liked the film but felt his idol was “not at his best”. But, whilst Barrymore felt he missed the mark by over-playing the colourful lead, François Villon: poet, womaniser and drinker who somehow also embodies the spirit of France, it’s not the easiest of briefs.

Jane Winton looks admiringly at John Barrymore

Based on an actual 13th century poet, The Beloved Rogue includes many florid moments invented (or over-invented) to add zest to this camp fantasy. It’s an all-too-easy target and yet… there’s an extraordinary energy around the crowd scenes in particular and Alan Crosland directs with style and free-running energy. The superb Conrad Veidt all but steals the show as a greasily ambiguous Louis XI and Marceline Day uses her clear, open expression to swoon-inducing effect as his beautiful ward Charlotte de Vauxcelles.

If there’s something about Johnnie and definitely Connie, it has to be repeated that there’s something about Marceline too, she has a very modern face and physique, and her wide eyes express something familiar and grounded. One of the great silent straight women, for Buster, for Harry Langdon, for Clara (Dorothy Arzner’s The Wild Party) and here for the good, the bad and the downright ugly. But that’s no way to talk about Conrad Veidt but here this most protean of silent performers seems to be inhabited by Richard III, doubled over in unctuous concern, turning his 6 feet 2 ½ inches frame into something frail and uncertain, deliberately allowing the 5 feet 10-inch Barrymore the higher ground. Veidt is morally ambiguous in effortlessly European ways and maybe John felt the pressure, just a bit…

Barrymore certainly shows a different side to his style as he throws the kitchen sink at creating a character big enough to fill William Cameron Menzies’ immense sets, rightly highlighted by Michelle as a stunning contribution to the film’s enjoyment. John certainly prepared well for the role and for a 45-year-old he’s rather ripped in the slightly odd torture scenes after he is captured by the film’s real baddie, the Duke of Burgundy. John’s in his shorts and gets beaten, flogged, dipped into flames and then winched high, before being selected as brutal entertainment for the wedding of the day…

Conrad Veidt

Set after Joan of Arc’s execution in 1431 (she came back strong after that didn’t she?) the film starts in a most un-funny way with the burning of Villon’s father at the stake… He was a patriot and fought in the name of a united France against the English and their Burgundian allies. His wife (Lucy Beaumont) prays that their son will inherit his spirit but, fully grown sadly he seems more concerned with spirits… Is this a redemptive story of fool to hero or does Villon play the fool to bide time?

Francoise’s roguish tendencies are fully developed as he gleefully steals wine to get drunk with his friends and leads the All Fools Day street celebration as the King of Fools. This section is very well realised by Crosland who generates a visceral charge by moving his camera through the celebrating hordes as snow swirls across the city. Snow in April: Paris in the Snow-time? Just what we need after a week of high temperatures.

Amongst the revellers is the striking Jane Winton as The Abbess, Mack Swain, striking in a different way, and Slim Summerville as Villon’s buddies Nicholas and Jehan as well as Angelo Rossitto (later to star in Tod Browning’s Freaks) as Beppo the Dwarf. As the party gets started Francoise is in pursuit of one of his favourite things as he evades the constabulary and comes down the rooftops to cheat an innkeeper of some wine. He heads of linking arms and skipping with Nicholas and Jehan – there’s a lot of skipping. Jigging and general dancing for joy: how else to convey energetic adventurism to scale?

William Cameron Menzies' sets are stunning

Having been crowned King of Fools, Francoise regales his rapt audience with a poem and them mounts a statue of the King just as the Duke of Burgundy arrives for an audience with his cousin. Francoise makes merry at Burgundy’s expense, knowing him as a man of ambition who wants the crown for himself. But King Louis, a “slave to the stars” has his judgement clouded by the advice of his astrologer and is loath to confront his rival. He comes out of the palace and has no option to support Burgundy against the crowd and ends up banishing Villon from Paris – “his life”.

Riding with him is his ward Charlotte who is appalled to finally see the reality of the poet she idolises: is the most inspiring wordsmith in France really an uncouth drunken fool? But things are about to get worse as she is promised in marriage to Burgundy’s lieutenant, Thibault d'Aussigny (Henry Victor), part of Burgundy’s plot to gain quick access to Paris.

In exile, Villon turns into a gallic Robin Hood as he hijacks the King’s gifts to Burgundy and climbs the walls to use the King’s catapult to fire the food and drink at the city in order to feed the poor. He ends up catapulting himself to avoid capture and crash lands, of course, into the rooms of Charlotte de Vauxcelles, what are the odds eh? This sequence features a stuntman diving against foreground scenery with the camera at a right angle; the result turned vertical into horizontal and adds further momentum to the film’s relentless pace.

Every day's a Marceline Day

The young noblewoman soon learns that this surprise invader is the Francoise Villon, a man whose words have touched her like no other but, again not pausing for breath, they are rudely interrupted by Thibault and his troops, there follows an altercation involving bears in barrels, recently deceased poultry and a heavyweight chandelier. Francoise escapes and takes Charlotte with him over the rooftops he knows so well to the safety of his mother’s house. Queue emotional reunion and the sadness of a mother deceived by her own hope: will her son ever amount to the man she wants him to be?

The route forward accelerates as the King finds it expedient to order Francoise death but the poet saves his skin by convincing Louis that their lives and death are inter-dependent: with this swift turn of phrase, he guarantees his life as courtier. Now able to influence events in the way his mother always wished, he is still a commoner which means he can never marry Charlotte, but all are soon overtaken by events as Burgundy kidnaps her and is intent on completing her marriage to his cause.

Villon and his friends, plus an army from the goodly poor of the Cour des miracles, the slum districts of Paris, as also featured in The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, borrowed here in strictly un-historical manner natch. But there must be swash and there will be buckle and it’s a rip-roaring finale with the cast of thousands are moved so well among the towering sets.

The film was believed lost until Mary Pickford revealed she had one in her archive and I wonder again how would we feel about The Beloved Rogue if it were still a lost film? As ever we need to count our blessings and thank the collectors, the restorers and the historians for preserving film in all its forms.

The rug stays cut when Josephine cuts it

Talking of which, the first half of the show combined a series of contemporary trailers for silent films including Ben Hur (1925) – which I’ve still to see on the big screen – a Marie Prevost film (it does exist but only on celluloid and with Serbo-Croat intertitles, one day maybe…) and others including King Cowboy (1928) starring Tom Mix and a-lot of Josephine Baker in Siren of the Tropics (1927)… oh my, there was steam coming off the screen! The art of the trailer is a valuable sub-genre all its own, cinematic striptease perhaps, revealing just enough, not too much and it provided quite the challenge for the accompanying Colin Sell who, of course, dealt with the flurry of action, emotion and revelation, with customary flair and sang froid! Grace under pressure these pianists!

It's been a great first half year for the Bioscope and my thanks and admiration goes as usual to all those involved in making these celluloid adventures possible. See you in September for more quiche, conversations and classic, rare, film!

  

The Cinema Museum where resides the Kennington Bioscope

A 35mm film projector, yesterday at the Museum.

My ship is coming in... Captain Salvation (1927) with Philip Carli, Orchestra San Marco, Pordenone Giornate del Cinema Muto

This was my film of the day without a doubt as it was the only film I saw today (thanks London fog etc) but others would be hard-pressed to compete with the visceral visuals of a larger than life Lars Hanson, massive Marceline Day, super-sized Pauline Starke and the gigantic sounds of Philip Carli with a full orchestra.

Lars Hanson, was the poster boy for last year’s festival but, presumably, got lost at sea, soon made up for lost time by forging ahead in the festival's glamorous opening gala. Was it worth the wait… but of course! The Swede’s tardiness was soon blown away by the forceful squals of this film – minds thrown to the elements and survival more than salvation the driver as Lars’ self-doubting preacher rediscovers himself with the help of a bad woman.

Worse things happen at sea and, if this film is anything to go by, that is entirely the case. But all the elements combined to magnificent affect in the Teatro Verdi: perfect, pure Pordenone on day one, just like last year with The Crowd.

So, began my second year at Pordenone’s unique Giornate del Cinema Muto … My debut is so still fresh that this year I barely looked right to see Venice, so intent was I on the Festival. One of tonight's comperes quoted David Robinson saying “welcome home”, but it’s not just the familiar, it’s a week-long Christmas full of unopened presents, all with World-class live musical accompaniment… It may be raining gatti e cani but who cares: no outdoor screenings are planned.

Captain Salvation was pleasing viewing as a Warner Archives DVD but tonight it was a genuinely uplifting combination of Carli’s sympathetic score and a story that is at least as much of the need for forgiveness and understanding as of spiritual concerns. You don’t have to believe in an ancient deity to want to treat people fairly and Anson Campbell stands up for what he believes as the local community turns on him for defending a fallen woman. This may well speaks to us as much now as in 1927 as our collective conscience tumbles backwards, grasping more at negativity as a way of defining a morality largely missing from every day.

Hanson’s Anson Campbell is young, vibrant and on the verge of priesthood and yet, he is always drawn back to the sea despite expectations. Lars’ sweetheart, Mary Phillips (the impossibly wholesome Marceline Day), is the daughter of the local priest and she looks forward to the time when he preaches from her father’s pulpit.

As its title suggests Captain Salvation deals with themes of Christianity and the sea - faith lost and regained on the edge of the world. Directed by John S. Robertson the film was based on the 1925 novel by Frederick William Wallace, a maritime journalist who had commanded a First World War Q-Ship. Not surprisingly, there's an authentic feel to the maritime action and if you like sailing ships, this film has some good ones.

The opening sees the return of Anson from seminary as the locals in a small coastal town gather to greet him. Robertson uses his locations well as Mary runs from her house to greet her lover but as his ship rolls into the quay he is also met with disappointment by his stern Uncle Peter Campbell (Sam De Grasse) who views his sea-going passions with disdain.

Anson is not dressed in a manner befitting the clergy and clearly enjoys the sea air far too much... The small God-fearing community follows Peter's lead and generally disapproves of Anson’s resistance to the call of the cloth, but Mary is head over heels and can only see the good in her man. The two share some lovely naturalistic moments on the beach as Anson presents Mary with a ring and proposes marriage… this section looks scripted (not all silent film was...) and Day can clearly be lip-read… you can almost hear them. Day is so freshly naturalistic and counterpoints the more intensely-expressive Larson well.

The weather changes and they both know a storm is on the way. They make it back to Anson’s friends’ house in time but are called out along with the rest of the village as a ship runs aground and survivors are hauled onto land. It’s a grim scene – a foretaste of what’s to come. One of these poor souls is that of Bess Morgan (Pauline Starke) a fallen woman who one crew mate blames for the wreck. There’s little sympathy form the locals with Uncle Peter suggesting that she recuperates in the jail “where she belongs”. This angers Anson who demands that she be treated like everyone else as a “person”.

Battle lines of compassion are drawn across the community as Bess stays with Anson and his reputation is ripped to shreds… even Mary cannot stand it and is finally unable to resist the pressure of her simple-minded kin – all too eager to judge rather than help. Reader, it’s pretty much like social media out there…

Pauline Starke

There seems nowhere left to turn and Anson follows Bess onto a schooner and a new life beyond the poisonous village. They board and are greeted by the larger than life Captain George Fawcett (all six feet and four inches of Ernest Torrence… Clara Bow’s co-star in Manhunt and brother of City Girl’s David as well as being an opera singer as I was reliably informed by a man from Bristol!). But, from the frying pan they have fallen through the fire and straight into Hell. This is a prison ship whose warders are more brutal than their inmates, each of whom is branded and treated like animals. Anson soon becomes dragged into the hideous depths of the hold whilst Bess must contend with the lecherous advances of the not so good Captain.

Torrence is great as the relentlessly callous officer and Starke is incredibly moving as the woman who’s hard-heart softens. Anson’s faith in her has given her belief in good even as Anson’s faith falls away as all around him look lost and without hope of charity. He is driven almost mad by the extent of the cruelty and the depths of their despair until he gains courage in return from the woman he has saved.

Now, make what you will of the film’s Christianity but there’s no denying that Captain Salvation is a powerful story. It’s specific on the nature of Bess’ wrong-doings – she chides one man for leaving before paying… and unflinching in the brutality of the prison ship… as Anson says, this is Hell.

Ernest: not singing

Pauline Starke is more of a clear match for Hanson than the winsome Day and she goes from hard-hearted pragmatism to compassion and Christian sacrifice. It’s a journey that could be so cliched but one that she makes convincingly and there were some moist eyes in the hall.

Philip Carli’s score as played by the Teatro San Marco’s house orchestra was gigantic, not overwhelming the film but enhancing it with some compelling melodies and rich, satisfying orchestration. As I said at the top: pure Pordenone and a great start to the week!

And now it's tomorrow and in a few hours my first full day starts. It's Cine-muto-Christmas!

Marceline (Sunny) Day

Marceline Day deserves a gold star… That Model from Paris (1926)

“Dumb?” “No! French…”

This is not the most sophisticated comedy but it has a number of things going for it… well, OK it has one thing going for it and she’s called Marceline Day one of those timeless people who just looks like they’ve been dropped straight from 2017 back into 1926.

Marceline it was who went swimming with Buster in The Cameraman, stayed true to Lars Hanson in Captain Salvation and kept a straight face alongside John Barrymore in The Beloved Rogue.  She has lovely open face and a strong range of naturalistic responses to ensure she kept pace with her leading men. She has charm and knows how to use it, seemingly with no deliberation.

Here she is most definitely the leading lady and in all ways as her male co-stars fulfil supporting roles and she is the centre of the situation and most of the comedy. We still have films led by women but were there proportionately more in the silent era? Marceline must be in 90% of the scenes and her nominal co-star Bert Lytell looks out of his league, in spite of a winning smile shining through his make-up…

Marceline is Diana Prince or possibly Clark Kent's sister

Like so many comedies of the time, this one is set in a department store. Marceline, heavily disguised as be-spectacled plain Jane Miller, works as a cashier. When floor manager Mr. Katz (Otto Lederer) hands out free tickets to his daughter’s debut at the Follies, poor Jane has no one to go with (not credible, even with those glasses on) and no posh frock to wear. Fellow wage-slave and well-connected ambitious blonde Marmie (Eileen Percy – also very good value) agrees to accompany Jane and also comes up with a scheme to borrow one of the dresses from the store…

On the night, Marmie is accompanied by her sugar daddy, Morgan Grant (Ward Crane) who brings a pal along for Jane even though he quickly decides she’s more his type… Oh Marmie, he may have money but he’s not that sweet!

Marmie watches Morgan try and impress Jane

Cue some follies action featuring Sabel Johnson  as Katz’s that, frankly, I wouldn’t be handing out tickets for if my duaghter was on stage: shocking! But Mr Katz is soon diverted by the realization that one of his store’s dresses is being worn by his cashier!

No matter how Jane tries to hide behind her stole she isn’t getting away from this one and faced with the certainty of a bad Monday morning opts to escape for a good night back at Grant’s opulent pad.

Whilst Marmie and his pal dance, Grant’s devious plan takes shape as he offers her a modelling job at the store and – in a note he doesn’t show to Jane, we see him offering to pay all of her salary… What a rat and, looking up at an inopportune moment, Marmie notes the suspicious intimacy between the two. However, what she has missed is Jane rebuffing the traitorous letch – he apologises but his is the long game…

Jane duly arrives and gets the gig – the Manager (Arthur Hoyt) being delighted at this additional free helper – and  then, the real set up begins… a visiting group of French models are minus their star attraction and so, of course, Jane, the rookie, can stand in for her as no one knows what she looks like!

The only, or rather main, complication is that Jane doesn’t speak French and so must act dumb to avoid being found out. Nothing could be simpler n’est pas?

Bert is overjoyed to meet a French gal

Meanwhile, the son of the store owners, Robert Richmond (Bert the inert) has spotted Jane’s talent immediately and begins to try and befriend her using her native language? All Jane can say is “no!” and shrug her shoulders, not even “non!” but the universal language of Anglais.

There is much fun to be had over this simple device, especially when Robert takes “Miss DuPont” to a French restaurant and they both end up with ham and eggs. Gradually Jane warms to his charms and even begins to translate his little notes professing admiration in French.

Meanwhile wicked mean Morgan is pushing Jane hard to meet with him alone…

Eileen Percy as Jane's pal, Marmie

How long can Jane avoid his creepy clutches and how long can she carry on being French without Robert finding out? More to the point, what chance does Mr Grant have if Marmie finds out his plan for Jane?!

Directed by Louis J. Gasnier That Model from Paris is a slick enough vehicle for its star and makes the most of a competent if unexceptional script.

It’s worth watching for the two main women characters - Eileen Percy’s Marmie is a gal to be reckoned with and you wouldn’t want to see her mad, especially when she’s getting a facial! Marceline Day clearly had star qualities and not just the most regular features in Hollywood. She is not as remembered as perhaps she could be and, according to the Silent Film Hall of Fame from whom I obtained this DVD, she has not even got a star on the Walk of Fame.

On this evidence, and the aforementioned roles alone, she deserves one.

Marceline Day and Bert Lytell