Electric Gypsy… Le Giornate del Cinema Muto Day Three

Let’s start at the big finish shall we, let’s begin with the pure diva pomp and circumstance of Italia Almirante Manzini playing the Queen of the Gypsies in Zingari (IT 1920) which brought the Teatro Verdi to its feet with a combination of on-screen energy and the startling accompaniment from a super group comprised of Günter Buchwald, Elizabeth-Jane Baldry and Frank Bockius, let’s call them Baldry, Buchwald and Bockius or BBB for short (or B³ for even shorter). I appreciate that gypsy is an archaic term now and that Romani is now favoured, but this film is called “Gypsy” and no offence is meant (certainly not to my wife’s family, who have the heritage).

 

My Uncle played violin for the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra for 30 years and I remember him giving me a list of violin music to help understand the development of the modern style from Paganini to Jascha Heifetz as he also stressed the influence of Romani music on classical style. It wasn’t just Brahms who used to frequent "Zum Roten Igel*" (The Red Hedgehog) tavern in Vienna to listen to the gypsy musicians’ ferocity and dexterity and he was far from alone in being influenced by the techniques and sentiment.

 

And our pulses did quicken when Günter Buchwald unleashed the “gypsy” in his violin playing tonight, sure he can play the piano but this was him letting rip with glorious runs, double bowing and tapping (? I still don’t know how these things work?!) an instrument that is as vocal as any, with guttural scratching, lighting quick phrasing and pure tonal power. Not for nothing have I previously described Elizabeth Jane Baldry as the Hendrix of the Silent Film Harp and she matched the pace with startling runs of her own, again showing the flexibility and tonal variety of her harp. Elizabeth also sang as Günter played piano and Frank Bockius had, as usual, come to the party to swing and bring order and the beat to even the wildest improvisation.

 

It was the accompaniment that this spirited adaptation of Ruggero Leoncavallo’s opera Zingari (Gypsies), which was a huge success across the western world after its 1912 London debut and which was based on Alexander Pushkin’s narrative poem The Gypsies (1827). The film was directed by directed by Mario Almirante and is essentially an extended exercise in showing off Italia Almirante-Manzini. Shot throughout with huge rings of mascara with dark lipstick, there must be a close-up of the actress every minute, with lighting and camera angle centred on her full regular features, head normally tilted with an imperious angle.

 

Italia Almirante Manzini has a regal moment

As Vielka, daughter of the Gyspy King Jammadar (Alfonso Cassini) she is fierce and unruly, determined to sacrifice everything for the man she loves, Sindel (Amleto Novelli… who is a total miva!) even though he is from a rival clan and physically puts the old man in his place when challenged, starting the feud that runs the entire narrative. Vielka is supposed to marry Gudlo (Franz Sala), whose not a patch on Sindel so no wonder she burns their farmhouse and gets herself exiled. Will there be any happy ending, do operas ever have happy endings?

 

Feelings run high but then they always do in opera and in diva film even though there were claims in contemporary reviews that Almirante Manzini was distancing herself “ever further from the art… of certain divas, and marvellously moves toward reality and life itself…” (La Rivista Cinematografica, 11^th October 1921). I don’t think that’s sustainable when you look at the actual proto-realism of Francesca Bertini or even the elevated theatricality and movement of Lyda Borelli who just had more range… but this is a very impressive performance that utilises so much of the diva art!

 

Brava!!

 

Suzanne Grandais in Le Coeur et L’Argent (1912)

Louis Feuillade shorts with Daan van den Hurk, Elizabeth-Jane Baldry

The hardest working harpist in Northern Italy was also on call for a wonderful quartet of Louis Feuillade shorts in the morning session… I don’t want to be mean to David Wark but his French colleague had clearly advanced the art in a number of ways in the years following the Biograph shorts we’re seeing. All three of the films demonstrate a lighter touch in terms of both the narrative, the subject matter and the performance, communicating their purpose with fewer grand gestures and perhaps with the expectation of more audience empathy.

 

The films were part of a series, La Vie telle qu’elle est (Life as it is) made on reduced budgets with fewer actors, designed to be £modern and intimate” as Bernard Bastide says in the catalogue notes. Sadly, according to Bastide, whilst the series started well, it was not ultimately successful although for me at least the settings, more naturalistic performances and – crucially – using the same stock of actors, gives the films a continuity of tone and quality.

 

les vipères (FR 1911) was very much a film for today with a bailiff taking pity on an evicted servant (Renèe Carl) and asking her to look after his sick wife (Alice Tissot) and her domestic duties. Soon rumours spread like a meme on social media and before you know it the spark of doubt has grown into full-on outrage. As with now, nothing is learned and pain only ensues as the poor woman leaves the village for the sake of her good Samaritan and his wife.

 

Le Nain (FR 1912) is a startling take on a form of disability with more than a nod to Cyrano – these programmes don’t just form themselves you know! Delphin (later in Zero for Conduct (1933)) is a successful playwright who falls for the beauteous star of his latest success, Lina (Suzanne Grandais) but cannot dare tell her the truth that although he is an adult he has only the stature of a boy and still lives with his mother (Renée Carl again). He conducts a correspondence with the actress and they form a virtual relationship via the phone with a clever shot showing them talking, each at home and with a split-screen showing Parisian roads between them. It’s as brief as Saturday’s Cyrano was colourful and long but poignant all the same.

 

Suzanne Grandais is also the female lead in the next two Le Coeur et L’Argent (1912) and Erreur Tragique (1913) when she survives an assassination attempt by means of horse after her husband believes she is seeing another man after seeing them in the background of a movie: honestly, how much more meta do you need!?

 

"Fought in the war did you young Arlen, I ran away to sea as a boy!!"

 The Blood Ship (US 1927) with Donald Sosin

 

It was time for some bitter sea shanties and the unique ultra-violent stylings of Mr Hobart Bosworth by now getting on in years but still more than capable of leering with psychopathic rage out from the screen. The Blood Ship is based on the 1922 novel of the same name by Norman Springer and is very much tailor-made for a Hobart Bosworth blood bath. The star of the unforgiving Behind the Door had earned his sea legs at a young age after apparently running away from home at 12 then working as a cabin boy on a sea clipper for three years before work on an artic whaler. The son of a Civil War naval captain, he clearly heard the call of the sea but he became involved in theatre aged 18 when invited to work as a stage manager helping to produce backdrops, work he hoped would enable him to study art. Quite the shift for a man who, in Norman Springer’s words, looked like the sort of “hard case” you would find working the toughest seas… because, he actually was.

 

 

The Blood Ship was one some two dozen nautical films he made and it gives him full rein to bring his weather worn features and remarkable sensitivity for both red-hot fury and despair, to the role of a man robbed of life and liberty who is seeking revenge for more than he knows… and he ramps up the righteous anger with emphatic force as the full extent of his betrayal is revealed.

 

Directed by George B. Seitz it concerns The Golden Bough, a trading ship run by the brutal Captain Angus “Black Yankee” Swope (Walter James) a man who in the late 1880s was “cursed from Liverpool to Singapore as the cruellest master that sailed the Seven Seas…”. We find him ordering the lashing of a would-be mutineer aided by his equally unforgiving First Mate, Fitz (Fred Kohler who would play so many henchmen – he had a face for cruelty). The other crew seethe silently and only the Captain’s daughter Mary (Jacqueline Logan) tries to help the poor man.

 

Swope is a cynical abuser and he knows that treating his crew mean will keep them in line and that they’ll escape the first chance they get without his having to pay them and as the ship’s hull touches the dock they’re all off. Meanwhile at Knitting Swede’s Lodging and Beds, where sailors are parted from their money and new “recruits” shanghaied, the handsome, some might say too handsome John Shreve (Richard Arlen) takes it all in before out muscling the Swede’s henchman (our own Syd Crossley). Then he tries to protect Mary when she attempts to escape her father’s ship and meets the mysterious brooding figure sat smoking a pipe at his table…

 

Both men volunteer for Swope’s ship though, John because he wants to protect Mary and the latter for reasons all of his own. This being a Hobart Bosworth production you just know there will be a hate-filled battle at the end of the film and few actors could match his convincing ferocity and righteous indignation. There is good support from Arlen and all including Blue Washington who is gifted with a dramatic role that doesn’t entirely rely on the usual racial stereotypes of this era – he has agency and isn’t the butt of the usual jokes, until the very end that is…

 

Donald Sosin accompanied as he has on this restorations recent Blu-ray release.

 

In addition, we saw a number of shorts that influenced our Charlie of which Max Linder’s Le Renez-vous (FR 1913) was the slickest and funniest as our handsome hero uses his charm to somehow secure a date with two different women at the same house… a victim of his own success one could say. Neil Brand accompanied this section and he has refined a slapstick technique all of his own with well timed and forceful lines that bring out the full flavours of the Verdi’s mighty Fazioli.

 

God’s Half Acre (US 1916) with John Sweeney

 

This film was impressive but also confusing as a missing reel left most of us wondering what had happened to whom and why? Still… it all worked out fine in the end even though we had to check the catalogue to find out why? Well made and on the sentimental side with a nursing home and a care home for children it provided a glimpse into the welfare provision of the United States at this time – TLDR: fine if we have the room and the generosity of spirit.

 

Henry Norman (Jack W. Johnston) is a novelist who travels to a care home called Rainbow’s End in search of inspiration for his next novel he finds it in the form of the bullying manageress and one of the young women who volunteer, Blossom (Mabel Taliaferro) who he terms as “a dear little mite of wonderment”. Blossom falls for him, initially ignoring his intellectual superiority but then running away after finding both an excerpt of his writing and the fact that he is married. Oh, I do hope this misunderstanding can be somehow rectified in time?

The film also uses the phrase “Pink tea talk”… which suggests a non-caffeinated intellectual preaching to the masses or perhaps someone using herbal tea for mischievous ends?

 

It was left to The Belgians to confuse us even more but then we had come prepared for their surrealist larks – Impose No Meaning, hold back conscious thoughts and just be in the moments watching the whirl. Henri Storck’s Op de boorden van de camera (1932) was a skilful montage of pleasing images passed more pleasurably than Charles Dekeukeleire’s Histoire de detective (1929) in which a detective called H investigated the activities of a suited man in hat called Jonathan who wandered around with his own purpose and his own thoughts and reached his own conclusions about which we cannot speculate.

 

Mauro Colombis’ role on the piano carefully followed a similar brief.

 

There were two shorts from the increasingly pleasing Fleischer brothers to keep us grounded in the realities of pen and ink! Fortune Teller lining up the evening’s big finish perfectly

 

*My mate Jon Banks is a member of a group inspired by this period called ZRI after the tavern – they are virtuosi and highly recommended if you want your classical music to quicken the pulse and even get you dancing! Details are on their website here!

 

 

Cinematographic-therapy… The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs (1912)

This smart film uses cinema as a therapeutic resource helping to cure one of the key characters of her mania and revealing something of the power the new medium was recognised as having. The woman gazes intensely at the screen as the events that traumatized her are replayed almost as life… in shock she staggers towards the screen and looks around at the back to see if it’s real: how can these images be?

I have had a very boyish fascination with pre-war films that would demonstrate pre-Birth of a Nation innovation but it’s impossible and it’s pointless – largely – the true test is whether or not a film is entertaining. Inevitably this is more likely to be those films whose production values are more aligned to modern tastes but beyond a certain point films begin to resonate as entertainment rather than academic studies… although there are many ways to enjoy watching a film.

Émile Keppens and Suzanne Grandais

The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs shows the advanced state of French cinema in 1912 being slickly made, inventive and still carrying genuine jeopardy and anxious resolution. Directed by Léonce Perret it is not so much a who-dunnit but a how-he-who-dunnit-gets-caught… a bit like Columbo only a bit snappier, with more forensic method and fewer cigars.

Perret uses some great locations, not least the titular cliffs, all of which are captured very well by cinematographer  Georges Specht as well as evocative Bauer-esque sets from Robert-Jules Garnier; rich in detail and depth of focus. There are no short cuts on the budget and there are dozens of different shots in the film which is remarkably well-preserved.

Events begin as the last will and testament of the Marquis de Kéranic are read out to his expectant cousin, Comte Fernand de Kéranic (Léonce Perret no less!) and young niece Suzanne de Lormel (Suzanne Grandais).  It’s the usual troublesome arrangement that can lead to trouble: Suzanne must make it to 18 without going mad or otherwise blotting her copybook or else she will lose all of the inheritance to her other uncle and tutor the Comte.

Now, this is asking for trouble but the Comte seems easy-going enough, surely nothing can disturb his peaceful stewardship of his young ward’s coming of age? Well… turns out the Comte has a gambling problem and is deep in debt. Perret reveals his predicament with the unfolding of a letter rather than through intertitles, the film takes the time to reveal its story and has a well-paced narrative that might well not have been tolerated in say the United States.

Léonce Perret and Suzanne Grandais

The Comte now reveals his true colours as he takes Suzanne for a walk down by the rocky Kandor seashore… the shots here are well made as the couple walk over pebbles past the craggy outcrops. The Comte asks his niece for her hand in marriage but Suzanne recoils, not just in revulsion but also because she loves another.

She runs off leaving her satchel which the Comte opens to find love letters from her beau, Le Capitaine Jean d'Erquy (Max Dhartigny)…  now he knows everything and begins to plot… alone in his darkly-lit study.

But next we see the Comte apologising to Suzanne and trying to make good but then we see him slip a sleeping draught into her drink before the two go for a walk down to the remote cliffs. Suzanne duly feints just in time for another part of the Comte’s plan comes into play. He has written to the Captain pretending to be Suzanne and has organised for them to meet at the rocks… as the soldier’s boat nears the Comte hides in the rocks with a loaded shot gun and lets off a smoke signal to attract the young man.

When he’s close enough the Comte fires two shots and Jean falls to the ground. Presuming him dead the Comte leaves them both to the mercy of the incoming tide… killing two lovebirds with one foul stone.

Lost at sea without a paddle...

Yet, Jean isn’t dead, far from it – he recovers enough to pull Suzanne into his boat and as he feints from loss of blood the two drift off into the uncertain waters. The two are lucky though and float ashore sometime later to be rescued by fisherman… but the experience has cost them: the Captain is too ill to be interviewed by the police whilst Suzanne has been driven catatonic by the near death experience… her mind is closed to all enquiries.

Thinking himself safe from any comeback, the Comte has Suzanne declared mentally unfit and proceeds to reap the benefit of the clause in his brother’s will that means he is the sole heir in such an event. All of his financial problems look at an end…

And yet… Suzanne’s maid writes to the Captain when he has recovered and suggests they contact one Professeur Williams (Émile Keppens) a man who has a reputation for solving the seemingly un-solvable psychiatric cases through revolutionary use of cinematic techniques!

Avoiding the use of intertitles

I must say no more about this fantastical plot other than to urge you to seek out this film and its remarkable closing sequence for yourselves!

Clearly the modern mind may well find few surprises but imagine the impact this would have had at the time when the arts of psychoanalysis and cinematography were still new and developing apace.

Re-creating the crime!

The director doesn’t act quite as well as he directs – Perret’s background was in comedy and it shows; his villainy being merely expressed with a half-smile and a shrug as Suzanne rebuffs his advances – but he gets good performances from his cast, especially Suzanne Grandais who moves from being madly in love to mad with ease. Her scenes with the cinema screen are particularly affecting even now…

I watched the Kino DVD which is part of their excellent Gaumont Treasures collection and comes complete with a super new score from Philippe Dubosson. If you haven’t already got it, it’s available direct from Kino Lorber or from the creative accountants at Amazon.

Léonce Perret