When Erich met Irving... Merry-Go-Round (1923), Flicker Alley Blu-ray

  

“…inexcusable and repeated acts of insubordination… extravagant ideas which you have been unwilling to sacrifice… and your apparent idea that you are greater and more powerful than the organization that employs you.”

Irving Thalberg’s letter of termination to Erich von Stroheim

I’d seen the new restoration of this film at last year’s Le Giornate del Cinema Muto in Pordenone but sometimes in the rush of a festival you don’t always pick up everything about a film, especially one with such a complicated backstory as this. According to von Stroheim biographer Richard Koszarski in his book-length audio commentary, Erich spent something like 33 days directing the film, 20-25% of the total according to the accounts of Universal’s new Head of Production, Irving Thalberg, who fired him and Rupert Julian who replaced him and yet this film could hardly be more “Von”.

 

Koszarski quotes from the meticulous diaries of James Winnard Hum who was sent to man-mark the Austrian spendthrift by Thalberg, a 24-year-old “Boy Wonder” who was busily turning Universal into a business with a command-and-control structure that was not going to co-exist with the old ways of director-led films. Thalberg had more to offer than just a belief in budgets and schedules but having already had to intervene on the director’s over-spent Foolish Wives (1922), when von Stroheim wanted to keep on shooting, was not going to allow him to risk Universal’s financial well-being not matter how “inspired” the ideas. Foolish Wives had been a smash but maybe studios will one day learn that Thalberg’s creative due diligence was a necessary counterbalance to unfettered and expensive creativity.

 

So, enter Mr Julian, a director badly in need of a hit and who would later claim more of the film’s ideas as his own than were his due. Koszarski reads out von Stroheim’s script outline during his commentary and it’s quite clear that not just the story but the shooting instructions were followed pretty faithfully with the result that the film, with most of the original cast and crew intact, carries the hallmarks of its author and original director.

 

This means a film that is marked by the harshness of certain characters and the cruel fate of others all against a backdrop of a fantasy Viennese noble demimonde that von Stroheim convinced everyone was his too. The extremes of the characters’ backgrounds makes the cruelty all the more painful as fairground organ grinder Agnes Urban (Mary Philbin) is forced to keep on playing just as her mother is breathing her last by her monstrous boss, Huber (George Siegmann). This is further contrasted with her soft-focus flirting with handsome Count Franz Maxmilian von Hohenegg (Norman Kerry) who has the luxury of visiting her incognito feigning to be a necktie salesman.

 

The Count’s life is unreal as a matter of course though, marked by duty and ritual that obscures feelings and curtails freedom. He is due to be married to the daughter of the Minister of War (Spottiswoode Aitken), the Countess Gisella von Steinbruck (Dorothy Wallace) in a decision Emperor Francis Joseph (Anton Vaverka) has decided is in everyone’s best interests. All of this is far from the carefree Count’s mind as he slums it in Vienna’s playground, the Prater amusement park, and seeks out its main attraction, the Merry-Go-Round.

 

The film opens with a mix of stock shots of Vienna showing the gothic history, the night life and the sordid underbelly as a young mother says goodbye to her son and throws herself off a bridge into the Danube. Then we join the Count as he shakes off a luxury hangover care of his manservants’ attentions including a risqué glimpse of the Kerry derriere which caused issues with the censors – more so, according to Koszarski, than the sexual violence later in the story. You can always count on the moral arbiters to miss the real point can’t you?

 

Life is so different for the workers at the Prater fairgrounds with Huber treating everyone, including his wife Marianka (the great Dale Fuller!), who he pointedly gives a tiny portion of his meal to, not to mention Agnes and her father Sylvester (Cesare Gravina who will later play alongside her in The Man Who Laughs) as they try to care for Ursula, his wife, her mother, who is in the last stages of serious illness.

 

The visit of the handsome stranger lifts Agnes spirits and, given the poverty of her life, the comparison with his true status is almost comical still wheel of fortune wheel of fire… the Merry-go-Round if life and just in case we’re not sure about the cyclical nature of fate and despair, every so often a silver0skinned devil appears laughing over a carousel spinning helplessly below.

 

The pathos is broad-brush but the finesse of the cruelty is such that this is merely another tragicomic aspect of the hopeless duality of love, life and grinding duty. I really don’t know exactly how socialist von Stroheim was but this critique of naked greed and careless class couldn’t be more on point for the times. He may be mourning a “lost Vienna” but not if it was this unfair.

 

And still comes the misery, Nicki (Charles King) is Agnes’ friend, and he loves her even though his deformity and humped back preclude her romantic interest – in his mind at least. He has an orangutang which is his livelihood, but also a friend who looks at Huber with savage eyes (no less than the rest of us). He watches in anguish as she falls for the handsome Franz as there is nothing he could or would do to stop it.

 

The greatest indignity of all awaits Agnes when, inevitably, the truth will out and she endures a humiliation in front of her “betters” and her father that is difficult to watch. This is as intended by von Stroheim but the director of 75-80% of the film deserves a lot of credit for largely taking script, cast and crew and making the film in the uncompromising fashion we identify with his predecessor.

 

There are also some very fine performances on screen and is this the best Mary Philbin role? She’s full on committed and never really crosses over the line towards purely melodramatic being believable sad and humiliated and in love all at the same time. Cesare Gravina is so intense and has just the face for this kind of gothic tale in which the cavernous depths of man’s everyday cruelty to man are ultimately compared with the First World War. Norman Kerry is, of course, a big lunk, but that’s what the role demands and many a better actor would struggle to complete his story arc… you have to see it!

 

The restoration features a newly commissioned orchestral score composed and conducted by Robert Israel, which contributes greatly to the emotional vibrancy of the cast and story and it’s a very rewarding watch and re-watch.

  

The restoration is fabulous and there’s an extra looking at it in more detail and much more:

 

·         Audio Commentary by Richard Koszarski - Go behind the scenes of the troubled production and explore Merry-Go-Round’s incredible filmic legacy with an in-depth commentary track from cinematic historian Richard Koszarski

·         Vienna Actualities - Explore Vienna in the years before World War I with 17 minutes of historical footage, courtesy of Filmarchiv Austria

·         Old Heidelberg (1915) - A new restoration of a feature from director John Emerson and producer D.W. Griffith, which served as an influence on Merry-Go-Round and also boasts Erich von Stroheim’s very first acting role

·         Restoring Merry-Go-Round - Go behind the scenes of the brand-new restoration with film restorer Serge Bromberg

·         Photo Galleries - Production stills, publicity, and other rare documentation

·         Souvenir Booklet - Featuring a new essay on the production by Richard Koszarski and notes on the restoration by Serge Bromberg and Lucie Fourmont

·         English SDH Subtitles

·         Reversible Cover Artwork – always a bonus!

 

Full details are available on the Flicker Alley website and those that re-sell US Blu-rays to the UK. It’s a fascinating part of the changing face of Hollywood as well as being one of Erich’s best concepts brought to life with a little help from his “friends” Rupert and Irving!

What goes around, finally comes around… Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 42, Day Three

 

Monday night and it’s time for something mighty begun by Erich von Stroheim and completed by Rupert Julien as the studio system clamped down on all that trust, creativity and budget abuse… not to mention Erich's "...flagrant disregard of the principles of censorship”. Lewis Milestone later claimed this as the moment when “the age of the director” was superseded by the producer system. Maybe Merry-go-Round (1923) is also then, the first example of a film that suffered as a result of no single vision?

 

It's certainly a film with many powerful moments, not least the finest performance I’ve ever seen from Mary Philbin as Agnes the poor fairground worker who is romanced by a Prince incognito played by Norman Kerry. There’s part of the problem as Norman is better at the confident Prince than the lovelorn warrior and the segment after WWI could have done with some trimming, re-editing. There’s also some issues with tone with the unremitting cruelty of the demon Merry-go-Round owner, played by George Siegmann who terrorises his staff, doesn’t care of they live or die and tries to sexually assault, feels very von Stroheim whilst the more romantic interludes, perhaps Julien – accounts vary.

 

But all this said, the film is dramatic and keeps you guessing right until the far from Hollywood ending – it’s not all joyous. It was a smash hit and tonight it looked as fabulous as is possible. It is the most complete version to date and the restorers of this new version spent 20 years conducting a worldwide search, comparing each of the elements shot by shot, to restore tints and scenes in order to reconstruct the whole film in its original form. It's a Hollywood classic with excellent support from Cesare Gravina as Agnes' Punch and Judy man father, George Hackathorne as the steadfast "hunchback" Bartholomew, Edith Yorke (Ursula Urban), the fab Dale Fuller as the wicked fairground owner's terrified wife and Dorothy Wallace as the Countess Kerry's Count is contratually obliged to.

 

Their efforts were supported further by two hours of finely wrought accompaniment from Mauro Colombis, Romano Todesco and Frank Bockius – currently the hardest working drummer in show business! The three combined as a tightly together as with the film and for the second night running my arms hurt from too much clapping: just stop it guys!

 

Ludwig Trautmann

Getting to know almost forgotten German, actor, director, writer, producer… Harry Piel’s tricks and flicks. Not for nothing was he known as "the dynamite director" as cars and illicit diamond factories blew up in today’s first film, Das Teufelsauge (The Devil’s Eye) (1914), a breathless adventure spinning at a Paul Auster level of coincidence much like yesterday’s Das Abenteuer Eines Journalisten (1914) whilst also featuring two drops from bridges into water, one more than Erblich Belastet (1913). It was clearly a winning formula although there were gasps when a horse appeared to fall off a bridge and certainly there was a high risk of equine injury when our hero and his pursuers are chased down a very steep sandbank on horseback.

 

Ludwig Trautmann plays François Rennée, an attaché) who is romancing Countess Rita Pignatelli (Anny [Anni] Timm) but, dressed as a Pierrot at one of her parties, gets accused of stealing her crown jewel, The Devil’s Eye… Even though she’s a woman of influence he has to go on the run, and charges off a clown on horseback, jumping of bridges into moving cars, performing a kind of pierotte parkour, a clown in constant motion off to prove his innocence. It’s inventive, comic-book fun and an improbable story well told by Piel.

 

The other Piel film was Das Rollende Hotel (The Rolling Hotel) (1918) was altogether gentler with a young private detective trying to help his friend Editor Tom marry the girl he loves rather than the suitor her father prefers on financial grounds. Even this took us into a wild chase with scenes high in the snow and of a portable hotel/caravan which, as you’d expect, crashed off a bridge and into the waters below! This was a very entertaining film with a lively cast including Heinrich Schroth as Detective Joe Deebs, Josef Ewald as Tom and the girl he wants to marry is Addy played by Käthe Haack who, in reality, chose Heinrich Schroth.

Italia Vitaliani

La Madre (1917), featuring Italia Vitaliani, an almost forgotten Italian Diva from the great age and who was first cousin once removed of Eleonora Duse, who was considered as her rival on stage for technique and naturalistic playing. La Duse influenced everyone from Bertini and Borelli to Asta and it’s rare to see her cousin on screen. Giuseppe Sterni’s film was only recently found and restored in the Netherlands and allows the actress to run through her expressive repertoire as the mother of a would-be artist who finds the wrong muse… she preservers to save him from himself and in her anguish provides him with the perfect portrait.

 

Diva film are perfect little arias that make sense unto themselves, every time I watch I relax and float down stream suspended entirely by belief.

Alternative title

The programme had this next section as Slapstick – Prog 2 "Clowns and Cretins"? I understand why this subtitle was chosen but “cretins” is now an ableist slur used to cover a whole range of neuro-atypical conditions. Yes, André Deed used a number of screen names but Cretinetti Che Bello! was made in 1909, we’re all historian enough to understand the title but we shouldn’t be reducing the significance of this word which, as the father of an ASD son I find uncomfortable.

 

On the bright side Deed is on fine form, with a typically surreal adventure – whatever his name he was anarchic and innovative, tearing himself apart and pulling himself together again.

 

As for the clowns, the famous Fratellini Brothers, François, Paul and Albert, get a chance to show parts of their act and then to fill out the thinnest of plots as they try and work out why Dolorès Braga (Yane Odoni) is the only person in the tent not laughing at their jokes. Dolorès, I’m with you babe, I was traumatised as a small child at Blackpool Tower Circus and I now can’t look at a clown without crying…

Madeline Hurlock, Ben Turpin and Dave Morris

In the battle of two mythical mid-European states Ben Turpin emerged as a surprise winner on account of laughs per minute and the coherence of his ideas in When a Man’s a Prince (1926) leaving Elinor Glyn’s project, The Only Thing (1925) in it’s wake as a confusion of anti-royalist/anti-revolutionary/pro-glamour. Ben’s on top form and the timing is impeccable throughout with a great supporting cast including Madeline Hurlock as a flirty lady-in-waiting, Dave Morris as Grand Duke Ludwig and Blanche Payson Hilda, The Princess of Amazonia!

 

On the plus side, having seen Eleanor Boardman in the deliberately “unglamourous” The Crowd, last month at the BFI, it’s great to see her on the big screen showcasing the kind of style she was famous for. She doesn’t have much to work with but does have good chemistry with the equally decorative Conrad Nagel and the two form a classy bubble in a story also full of Glyn’s entitlement and exploitative cruelty.

 

Boardman is Thyra, Princess of Svendborg, politically forced into a marriage with the ageing King of Chekia (Edward Connelly) and there’s a running joke about how he has ‘orrible big ears as do all of his family, even the one working with the revolutionaries. Its hardly a prospect that would delight and carries uncomfortable echoes of royal marriages before and since. Anyway, she fancies the British noble, he fancies her and yet what could stop her fulfilling her duty? A revolution perhaps, and one involving perhaps a bit too much tortured female flesh and outlandish cruelty for my liking. Mildly grumpy on Day Three... 

 

King Charles, Eleanor Boardman and Conrad Nagel

Another fine day in Pordenone, feels like Wednesday but it’s still barely Tuesday. Weds is Hindle Wakes Day, in fact it’s Wakes Week in so many ways… (niche Yorkshire/Lancashire reference that will make sense come the day!!

Don't dream of clowns...

Back home… Penrod and Sam (1923) with Stephen Horne, Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 39

 

Every October we travel in time and space to Pordenone in north-western Italy for a week of silent film, socialising and the odd few hours of sleep. In these Covid-curtailed times we’re still transported digitally and emotionally if not physically by the streaming of an event many call home, as Le Giornate Cinema Muto goes online-only. It’s the best we could hope for as we hope for the best… for cinema and for culture.

 

Festival director Jay Weissberg captured the moment as he introduced a collection of travelogues, taking us from monochrome New York to silent London, via tinted Ostend and eternal Egypt, a magical carpet ride of spaces and people that are recognisably the same as those we know. He quoted from a Michel Robida article: “A journey in one’s armchair – a journey of the mind – is the nicest kind of journey, because it’s what we want it to be, because there are no obstacles, and all our dreams are granted.”*

 

There’s certainly something dreamlike about the Svenska Biografteatern footage of New York from 1911 – used in August Blom’s Danish film, Atlantis (1913) amongst others – which captures the attitude of the locals proudly being photographed in front of impossibly tall buildings, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square, the Flatiron Building on 5^th Avenue and Broadway… It’s a glimpse of the future world as viewed by our great grandparents – railways over head and below, constant motion as motor cars vie with horse-drawn carriages and electric trams, with one family standing out as they’re chauffeured behind the ghost camera, that of Antoinette Lochowicz, identifiable via its number plate.

 

Accompaniment for our tour was provided by Mexico’s José María Serralde Ruiz, whose well-travelled improvisations perfectly matched our feelings of awe and longing, trapped, as surely now as the moment when the light first struck the nitrate elements of the time.

 

Tonight’s main feature was the recently restored Penrod and Sam (1923), the second of the film adaptations of Booth Tarkington’s novels about young Penrod Schofield as he grows up in a small town that is an idealised mid-western America before the Great War. Tarkington wrote three books on Penrod, and later The Magnificent Ambersons, and there are public domain audiobooks of his trilogy if you’d like to hear more. The story as seen through the film, is something of an updated Tom Sawyer, with plenty of underlying adult themes if you look hard enough.

Sam (Joe Butterworth) and Penrod (Ben Alexander)

The opening title cards dedicate the film to “The spirit of Boyhood which always has been and always will be the same… “ and what follows is a superb capturing of childhood concerns from director William Beaudine who brings out some extraordinary performances from his cast of kids and, indeed, their pets – take a bow Cameo aka the noble Duke, Penrod’s dog. Beaudine was adept at working with youth and went on to direct Mary Pickford’s child-like fable Sparrows (1926) as well as a talkie remake of this film in 1931 and many more including Billy the Kid Versus Dracula (1966) which may or may not be as childish as it sounds.

 

Right here in 1923, he captured the life of a pre-teen as accurately as the Swedes shot those New York streets with be-freckled Ben Alexander (11 and a ½) coached and edited to a very impressive performance as the pugnacious Penfold. Penfold, together with his best mate Sam Williams (Joe Butterworth), lead a gang of boys dedicated to re-enacting battles based on very-specific childish logic and they also have a boys-only members club called the In-Or-In Lodge, which has a strict no-girls allowed policy – not even for Majorie Jones, Penfold’s “most beautiful girl in the world” – and a rigorous ’nishiashun ceremony.

Penfold is immediately shown to be, almost literally, at war with big Roddy Bitts (Buddy Messinger) the son of the richest man in town, and the story starts with light-hearted run ins between Roddy’s rebels and Penfold’s “Federal” forces. The rules of engagement are largely non-contact and wooden swordfights can only be won by first contact with the opponent’s clothing.

Boy's club

Interestingly Roddy’s most valiant soldiers are his “colors”, two black brothers Verman (Joe McCray) and the younger Herman (Gene Jackson) who are both treated as equals in the gangs even though they look noticeably poorer. Again, both lads give excellent performances and their position in the film feels so much more natural than other black performers in many other productions of the time.

 

Herman gets captured by Penrod and Sam and hidden in Penrod’s elder sister’s wardrobe until further notice. War is Hell.

 

We soon get to meet that sister, Margaret, (Mary Philbin, who’s next film was a staring one, in Erich von Stroheim’s Merry-Go-Round) as well as the parents, Dad (the super Rockcliffe Fellowes) and Mom (Gladys Brockwell, possibly Brooklyn’s eye-roll champion of 1915…) and the family dynamic unfolds. Dad’s about business, his evening cigar and the newspaper whilst Mom looks after the housework not covered by their black housemaid and Margaret is in love with Robert Williams (Gareth Hughes), Sam’s elder brother.

Ideal American Family

Herman’s escape from his wardrobe cell, hidden under one of Margaret’s dresses is typical of the tone of the film’s mostly slapstick first half but things do take a darker turn as the boys themselves take things too far in victimising their underserving enemies, bookish Georgie Bassett (Newton Hall), whilst their deserving ones, Robby, backed up by Dad (William V. Mong), up the ante by levelling false accusations and getting Penrod a “good lashing” from his father’s belt.

 

There’s a growing dislike between Penrod and Robby that gets more intense and, as they’re destined to become grown-up rivals like their fathers, there’s no particular happy ending other than the wealthiest having the fewest real friends. Even Mr Burns has Smithers…

Mary Philbin and Gladys Brockwell

Stephen Horne’s accompaniment played deeply on the narrative and emotional vectors as he presented slapstick lines at helter-skelter pace, aiming, as he said in the after screening discussion, “… to create the feeling that it was fun but… slightly out of control and that at some point (the fun) would come to an abrupt halt!” It was the kind of sure-fingered and thematically premeditated improvisation we’ve come to expect from Mr Horne and he rounded off the viewing experience with rich dashes of humour and a melodic flourish.

 

Also in the discussion, Katherine Fusco, associate professor of English at the University of Nevada, Reno, observed that the boys are imitating the adults and also instructing them as it is only through remembering how it felt to be a boy that Penrod’s father is able to help his son whereas Robbie’s Dad is millions of dollars away from being able to empathise. This has echoes today but it's fascinating to see how US writers and film makers have always been suspicious of capital wealth – not so much as socialists - far from it - but in the way that money brings conflicted priorities that, if not addressed after salutary lessons are learned, will bring nothing but bad fortune to you and those you are supposed to love.

Celebrating the spirit of '76!

So, Penrod and Sam was far from child’s play (sorry) and is a typical Pordenone gem, one that was very well polished by this Library of Congress restoration!

 

More to come for the next week and full details are on the festival website. The films are available to view for 24 hours so you can still catch the show if you’re quick.

 

* Images de Paris. Girouettes. Les rêves tournent au gré des vents, La Presse, 22^nd October 1934

Duke waits to hear his master's voice...

Pordenone 

What’s so funny? The Man Who Laughs (1928)

 An American film about seventeenth century England, based on a French novel, starring one extraordinary German and directed by another, The Man Who Laughs is a truly international picture. Made at the peak of silent film technique it features a rudimentary soundtrack – in Movietone – and represents a Hollywood high-point of expressionist unease from Paul Leni, the man who directed Waxworks and The Cat and the Canary.

The boy is abandoned

It says much for contemporary sensibilities that audiences were attracted to the dark disturb of this tale. Conrad Veidt plays Gwynplaine a man scarred for life from childhood by a group of travellers led by Dr. Hardquanonne (George Siegmann) who specialised in cosmetic disfigurement in order to create oddities suitable for circus performers. In this case, and following on neatly from Nell Gwyn and Charles II, the latter’s brother and successor James II (Samuel de Grasse ) has ordered the mutilation as revenge on the boy’s father who has displeased him. The father, Lord Clancharlie, is mercilessly squished in the Iron Lady and the boy’s face will forever be locked in an horrific grin… laughing at his father’s betrayal.

Conrad Veidt as Lord Clancharlie

Honestly, it’s five minutes in and you’re wondering whether to bail out whilst the going’s so bad… but the film’s style and substance begins to work its uncanny rhythm and hope emerges as the boy, cast adrift even from his tormentors, rescues a blind baby from the bitter cold and finds sanctuary with an itinerant circus performer called Ursus (Cesare Gravina) who lives in a caravan with his pet wolf Homo (Zimbo the Dog!). Now that’s a modern family!

Cesare Gravina

The years pass and naturally Gwynplaine’s clown-face has made him the most popular clown in town – people just can’t help but laugh when they see his hysterical smile but, in spite of the gadgetry and painful false teeth he wore, Veidt’s eyes give so much more away: pain but also something more, his love for blonde, beautiful and blind Dea (Mary Philbin) who loves him back. But she has never seen his disfigurement nor felt his smile… Gwynplaine cannot believe that she would still love him if she knew what he actually looked like.

Conrad Veidt and Mary Philbin

Oh but there’s more… Gwynplaine’s father’s land and property was handed over to the family who betrayed him in the belief that he would never be seen again - he has an inheritance and a peerage he knows nothing about.  The beneficiary is one Duchess Josiana (Olga Baklanova – so good in von Sternberg’s Docks of New York and on fire in this film) who leads a life of carefree debauchery and expressive bathing as a servant’s key-hole view of her bathroom reveals…

Olga Baklanova

The troop travel to entertain the court of Queen Anne (Josephine Crowell) who has succeeded twisted James II and rules with firm Stuart authority aided by the Machiavellian Lord Dirry-Moir (Stuart Holmes).  As their weird play proceeds the crowd breaks into hysterics and yet Duchess Josiana cannot decide whether to laugh or lust… there’s something more deeply intriguing about Gwynplaine’s unrelenting grin.

She orders the clown to be brought to her chambers sending him a note from the woman who did not laugh – an inversion of the film’s title: is she to be his nemesis? For his part Gwynplaine reasons that if the Duchess can fancy him in spite of his disfigurement then Dea may also… so he travels with hope in his heart.

Brandon Hurst

Meanwhile… the Queen’s aid, Barkilphedro (Brandon Hurst), has found out that Gwynplaine is the rightful owner of the Duchess’ land: for her to retain her title and property she will need to marry him. The Queen orders his capture and immediate ennoblement.

Back in the Duchess’ boudoir, her advances have more than convinced Gwynplaine that he has appeal but his experiment over he rushes back to find Dea leaving  his noble partner confused and rather let down: not the behaviour of a gentleman…

Back in Ursus’ caravan Gwynplaine lets Dea feel the contours of his face for the first time and, in spite of her instinctive recoil on feeling the strange outlines she smiles already knowing all she need to love this man. And this would have been a happy ending were it not for the convolutions of Victor Hugo’s original plot and the relentless machinations of the Stuart state.

A guard arrives to escort Gwynplaine to the Queen’s castle… Usrus fears for the worse and the Queen’s men leave him with as clear an impression of the wrong idea as they can. The next day he and Dea are told that there man is dead and that they must leave England for good.

At the same time, Gwynplaine is dressed in ermine and fur and paraded into the House of Lords… where he will be ordered to marry the Duchess by Queen Anne herself.

No spoilers… All looks bad for the course of true love - can Gwynplaine escape from his new found wealth and position, refuse his Queen’s instruction and go in search of Dea? Knowing Victor Hugo you’d have to say not but this is Hollywood and the unexpected is always possible if not probable.

The Man Who Laughs was completed in 1927 and waited almost a full year for the addition of its rudimentary soundtrack which, to modern ears, adds little to the suspenseful story-telling of Leni and his crew but that's business.

Mary Philbin and Conrad Veidt

Mary Philbin doesn’t always get the recognition she deserves for her supporting roles to men with unusual faces, she’s as good here as I’ve seen her and has a real rapport with the remarkable Conrad Veidt. Veidt himself was an amazing physical actor who conveys so much subtle thought process even with his face half covered in that perma-grin.


The support is also excellent especially from the incredibly expressive Cesare Gravina, Brandon Hurst who oozes comic malevolence and Olga Baklanova who's very naughty throughout - were you watching William Hays?!

Olga "burns through the screen" as one reviewer exclaimed at the time...

Leni directs with gothic style and economy even confronted with the challenge of transposing Hugo’s long-form exposition into a digestible 100 minutes. He is very ably supported by head cinematographer Gilbert Warrenton and Laughs is a very good-looking film given the grim strangeness of the Veidt grin.

I watched the Kino DVD which comes complete with the soundtrack – music from William Axt , Sam Perry and Ernö Rapée along with the odd synchronised found sound and baying crowd noise… it’ll never catch on! It's available direct as part of their American Silent Horror collection and you can still find copies on Amazon.

The horror… The Phantom of the Opera (1925)

I don't enjoy most modern horror films. The genre's played out for me and I just don’t want to be “horrified” anymore, in spite of all that time growing up with Hammer and 70’s devil-rousers such as The Exorcist, The Sentinel, The Omen…The horror of it all was once strangely re-assuring and now it’s jarring... maybe cine-shock just wears off after repeated exposure?

One thing’s for sure, psychological tends to work better than physical (at least if you’re over 14) and I would venture that Dead of Night, The Haunting and The Others are longer lasting because of their restraint and focus on mood not gore.

There are numerous silent horror films that have stood the test of time but would I include one of Lon Chaney’s most famous in that list?

The man of a thousand faces had a career spanning two decades until his death aged only 47 in 1930. From what I can see he was a tremendous actor who was willing to endure almost any amount of physical discomfort in the making of a film (Christian Bale you are a lightweight...).

In The Phantom of the Opera he wears what looks like a very painful make-up which pulls his nose up (using wire) whilst his mouth is stretched wide to create the impression of a face that had been born malformed (as in Gaston Leroux’s original book).

It looks very uncomfortable but that is a key part of the mix in this great, pure-play, gothic adventure that could have been diminished by so many remakes, reworkings and the music of the night…

Directed by Rupert Julian in 1925, The Phantom of the Opera has not fared well over the years and is still some way short of a full restoration. I bought the excellent Carlton double DVD set which features no less than three versions of the film, a poor quality full length version from 1925, the 78 minute, part-talkie re-release from 1929 and a good quality 91 minute silent version from the same year. The later version featured some new shots and actors just to confuse things further.

Watching the 91 minute version first, I was impressed by the immensity and detail of the sets that took L’Opera Paris and exaggerated it… just a bit! In these opulent settings we see the well-healed audience arrive to view the ballet. All is on a grand scale and the ballet dancers flow across the stage in motion speed-corrected glory.

After the show they dance around the theatre workers like hyper-active nymphs, sharing stories of the mysterious figure haunting the opera house. The Phantom… who is gradually revealed through shadows, flapping capes and glimpses of his all too solid form.

This figure begins to exert a greater influence on events as he threatens the opera singer he doesn’t like Carlotta (Virginia Pearson in the original version) so that the one he does, Christine Daaé (Mary Philbin) can take her part. Christine duly takes the role and sings the house down.

After her performance she begins to hear a mysterious and compelling voice talking to her through the wall of her dressing room…urging her to join him, and beginning to control her. Another threatening note arrives before the performance of Faust, but Carlotta is determined and takes to the stage only to meet with misfortune after a massive chandelier falls crushing some of the audience.

Now the Phantom takes more direct action and abducts Christine down into the ancient cellar rooms where he keeps his well-appointed lair.

Frightened but emboldened by his keenness for her, Christine cannot resist sneaking up on the Phantom whilst he plays the organ and gently slipping off his mask. Enraged he turns round toward the camera revealing a genuinely horrific face! It was alledgedly at this point when many original audience members feinted and it is still shocking today.

Chaney had made himself up really well but he’s also acting through all this and it is this that makes the monster real and as with all the best of his kind, slightly sympathetic. But… he can’t make Christine love him and she is allowed to return to her world on the understanding that she tells no one of what she has seen and that she does not see her beau Raoul (Norman Kerry) .

In the film's most famous sequence, the bal masqué, the action is startlingy in two-strip technicolour - a rarity for 1925 and worth the price of admission alone. It really does the action, costumes and scenery justice as the Phantom arrives wearing all red and a skull mask and proceeds to terrify the revelers.

The bal scene is the only surviving colour section and the late Hélène Bromberg brilliantly reproduces the hand painted colour tinting for the other sections such as the phantom on the roof.

Christine and her beau escape to the top of the theatre but the Phantom drags her down to the catacoombs. Raoul (Norman Kerry) is soon in search of her accompanied by Inspector Ledoux (Arthur Edmond Carewe) a lurking presence throughout who has been on the case for some time.

Things hot up as the Phantom uses the old torture chambers to trap the men, sneaks off under water to ensnare Raoul’s brother and looks to be unstoppable. But his collateral murders – never entirely explained – have taken too many souls and the brother of one (an enraged Gibson Gowland who played McTeague in Greed) leads a gang set on murderous revenge.

The closing stages are a thrilling set piece Including a chase past Notre Dame Cathedral - still standing following Chaney's star turn as the Hunchback in 1923. The various strands culminate in near death, a dramatic escape and final watery justice…

I enjoyed it far more than I expected to. Chaney is excellent and exhibits a tremendous physicality in acting through his make-up. Whether he's wearing a mask or smothered in his horrific face paint, you know what he's thinking. The Phantom is the way he looks and he reacts to the world with horror. He will kill anyone who gets in his way and is only stopped by the force of his love for Christine.

Mary Philbin is a little over-wrought at times, but she’s very well cast as the kind of singer any ghoul would fall for and… this is an opera after all! She shows her more naturalistic range in Sloman’s Surrender and was no mere scream queen.

There’s a choice of soundtracks on the Carlton set and I opted for the stirring orchestral score from Gabriel Thibaudeau which works really well given the grandiloquence on display. There's also a highly-informative commentary from Dr John Mirsalis who explains the background to the different versions.

Available at a very reasonable price from Amazon, don’t be put off by the modern musical and see this through your best pair of 20’s opera glasses.

Never judge a film by a musical based on the book...

Edward Sloman remembered... Surrender (1927)

This is a slightly odd but very well-made film of love and duty from an almost neglected director; Edward Sloman.

Kevin Browlow’s “Parade” stopped to include Sloman and bemoan the fact that so few of his works survived. Whilst there are slightly more than was thought at the time, Brownlow was especially impressed with his print of Sloman’s 1927 film, Surrender.

Based on Lea Lyon, Alexander Brody's 1915 drama, Surrender tells of a Jewish community in an Austrian village on the border with the Russian empire at the outbreak of the Great War. Whilst political tensions are running high, life in the village seems undisturbed. The village’s moral leader is Rabbi Mendel Lyon (powerfully played by Nigel De Brulier…strangely reminiscent of Tom Baker), who, as well as providing spiritual guidance, arbitrates in disputes and provides wise counsel.

He has a daughter, Lea Lyon (Mary Philbin) whom he dotes on and who is betrothed to Joshua (Otto Matieson), an eager young man one suspects early on isn’t quite smart enough for her.

Into this setting comes a Russian prince, Constantin, played with superb energy by the great Ivan Mozzhukhin (Ivan Mosjukine here) in his only Hollywood film. Having established himself as a star in Europe, most notably in Casanova (made earlier in 1927), Mozzhukhin was sourced as a potential Valentino substitute following The Great Lover’s passing. He was made to have plastic surgery to shorten his nose whilst an interpreter had to relay Sloman’s direction as Mozzhukhin – seemingly – spoke little English.

There is an exceptional outdoor sequence when we first find Constantin out hunting. Brownlow remarks on the excellent camera work showing the Prince’s view of his quarry which turns out be only a squirrel which he refuses to shoot. Soon entirely more impressive fair comes within his sights as he finds Lea sitting beside the river, she is shoe-less after his dog has retrieved her footwear and marooned on a rock.

Constantin “rescues” her and the two quickly strike up a rapport as she is charmed by his skilled courtship. This fits with Mozzhukhin’s “Casanova” persona and some commentators have argued that what comes next was “out of character” given his previous casting but, surely, an actor is the sum of all his parts…not just the one? OK, there is Hugh Grant…and there was Valentino…but Mozzhukhin could clearly act!

The couple are interrupted by Constantin’s troops and Lea’s father; it is time for war and the Rabbi has, unknowingly, only just begun the defence of his daughter’s honour.

The Cossacks begin their invasion and Sloman’s direction is superb as he shows the clashing together of their army and the village. Two farm workers see the advancing army and speed on horseback to the still peaceful village to relay the news: “The Cossacks are coming. THOUSANDS OF THEM!” scream the intertitles superimposed over the men as they arrive with their warning.

But, it’s too late and the village is quickly over run.

Constantin recognises the Rabbi and seeks out his daughter. She refuses his advances and is reminded of her “duty” to love Joshua. Constantin scoffs at this, love should be an instinct…yet this doesn’t prevent him from trying to force Lea into his own arms. In his anger he gives her an ultimatum: she must come to his room that night or he will burn down the village with all its inhabitants.

In spite of the moral dilemma, Lea decides that committing this sin is the only way to save the village. There’s another great sequence when she is shown walking through the village between houses boarded up with desperate hands reaching out for help and the Russian soldiers holding flaming torches ready to follow their orders.

Lea reaches Constantin’s room and the village is saved… But how far has she been made to go against her beliefs, how cruel has Constantin been and... will she be damned for her actions?

Soon the Austrian counter attack reaches the village and it is the Cossacks’ turn to flee. Is there any kind of future for Lea and Constantin?

The film diverges from the play in its resolution and this is true to form for Hollywood of the time – without giving too much away. This may account for it’s less than entirely coherent storyline, but it’s an engaging story none-the-less. Whilst Sloman directs expertly with a good deal of camera movement and vitality, he paces the story well and brings out the best from the actors and their characters.

The situation is melodramatic, as was the play, but also realistic enough for audiences still recovering from "the war to end all wars" and at a time when the Hebrew faith was no less contentious in some quarters, than it was in the following decade and beyond.

Mary Philbin does well to match Mozzhukhin’s dynamism and the two make an eye-catching and, ultimately sympathetic pair. This is a stretch given Constantin’s brutal threat to the village but he may have expected her favour based on their previous meeting and possibly that’s the way Russian Princes behaved when thwarted... in wartime (in Hollywood). Philbin is mostly remembered today for two horror films, Phantom of the Opera and The Man Who Laughs (I love that this was the template for Batman's Joker!) but had a fair dramatic range as shown here.

But the star is really Sloman. Maybe as Matthew Sweet has recently written, we are fascinated by silent film because so much is lost or in ruins – Surrender is certainly bloomin’ hard to get hold of. Maybe it’s just nostalgia for a period we never knew? Or, just maybe, it’s because we enjoy reconnecting with the simple skills of film directing and acting faced with an excess of over-produced and self-referential modern movies?

If it’s pure hand-crafted and hand-cranked film you’re after, Edward Sloman knew how to make it. Surrender proves that! It is a shame that the film and more of his work isn’t readily available… maybe one day.