Gently down the live stream… 12 from 21, Silent Film in the Modern Age

So, here it is... and what another resilient year it’s been for cinema. I saw a lot more films in theatres this year and stand in admiration all those involved in making this possible, so thank you for the projecting, programming, popcorn and perseverance. Thank you for showing me to my seat, introducing and politely requesting that we all wear masks… every little really does help. But this year’s list is dominated once again by digitally streamed films albeit from live events with Bonn, Bologna, Pordenone and others re-emerging and offering the choice to be there in person or the opportunity to watch from home. the way forward as many are still vulnerable whilst the pandemic lasts whilst those who could attend did so with appetite renewed.

So without further ado and in no particular order here's twelve highlights from the year behind us.

 

When Igor met Mary

1. A Kiss from Mary Pickford (1927), with John Sweeney, 10th Hippodrome Silent Film Festival

I’m hoping that 2022 allows me to attend Scotland’s premier silent film festival… OK, one of Europe’s premier festivals! This delicious soviet comedy typifies the focus on programming a mix of well-know and more obscure but historically significant films and is a film I’ve wanted to see for some time.

In 1926 Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks came to Moscow as part of a grand European tour and seeing how rapturously they were greeted, how fetishized they were as something beyond ordinary humanity, Sergei Komarov devised a means of using this to both shine a comic light on the nature of this ultra-fame. He had no special access to the stars, just a collection of newsreels and one crucial sequence in which Mary agreed to perform a short skit with Igor Ilyinsky at the end of which she kisses him on the cheek; the moment which makes this film transcend its sources, from meta to better.

John Sweeney provided accompaniment and delighted in every comedic twist and turn in this joyful film that is as much a celebration of the Muscovite sense of humour as its cinema. As John said in his introduction, this is exactly the kind of film you fall for… one that is largely unseen but one that is further evidence of the strength of Russian comedy and cinematic ideas during the Twenties.

 

2. Siren of the Tropics (1927), Günter A. Buchwald and Frank Bockius, Slapstick Festival 2021

My first missed Slapstick Festival for a few years but the programme was as strong as you’d expect especially this opportunity to see the great Josephine Baker in her first feature. At the time, Hollywood was certainly not ready to go as far as French directors Mario Nalpas and Henri Étiévant do by placing Baker as the main focus in La sirène des tropiques and by giving her a story largely free of the cliqued tramlines of other multi-ethnic stories. Baker is perhaps treated as more overtly sexual than most white actors at this time – she’s topless twice -  is portrayed as both innocent and with a childlike wildness; she attracts (white) male lust as well as love and protectiveness, revels in powerfully expressive jazz dancing – seriously, that core and the way she co-ordinates massive extensions without any apparent strain -  and yet her character remains in awe of western spirituality. So many questions… but it’s still a shock to see someone as naturalistic as her placed, largely, at the centre of a story from this period and one in which race is not really mentioned.

Live musical accompaniment was provided by Guenter A. Buchwald on piano and Frank Bockius on percussion, who, in addition to deploying an almost telepathic musical synchronicity, smartly avoided the cliches of cultural referencing. This being one of the great jazz babies, they gave us a rip-roaring, hi-tempo jazzed score that not only kept pace but lifted the film to the vibrational level of its all-powered star. When Baker eventually struts her considerable stuff towards the end of the film you felt that this is the moment the players had been pacing themselves for.

 

Marthe Fabris... L’Arlésienne

3. L’Arlésienne (1922), Il Cinema Ritrovato, Günter Buchwald and L’Octuor de France

 

A film with a fantastic sense of place, shot on location in the gorgeous city of Arles and the surrounding countryside of the Camargue, it’s almost entirely shot outdoors, featuring the images of locale and rural practice you’d expect from André Antoine, the director of L'hirondelle et la mésange (1920) and La Terre (1921).

 

This 4k restoration is a thing of beauty completed in 2020 by Fondation Jérôme Seydoux-Pathé and La Cinémathèque française from two unique diacetate prints preserved at the latter and it benefited mightily from musical accompaniment based on orchestral arrangements by Gabriel Diot from the score edited by Pathé in 1922. Günter Buchwald rearranged the score, which features compositions from Bizet (who incidentally wrote an opera based on this story), Gillet, Rachmaninov and others. He also added his own Impressions d’ Arles and conducted L’Octuor de France to create a perfectly synchronised emotional narrative that not only pull at present day heartstrings but also recreates the sound of the contemporary silent experience.

 

Lyda Borelli 

4. Fior di male (1915), Bonn Silent Film Festival with Cellophon

 

I’m not having a best of list without a new-to-me classic Diva film and here was a prime cut of imperial Borelli in all her operatic pomp and with a collection of magisterial emotional displays only matched by her gorgeous and frequently changing wardrobe. Only in Italy miei amici and it took a German film festival to highlight that point.

Accompanying were the Cellophon duo, aka Paul Rittel and Tobias Stutz who both play cello in ways that are emotionally resonant and respectful of the source visuals. They used admirable flavour and restraint with both recognising the need to underplay when confronted by the operatic fireworks on screen using this most mournfully flexible of instruments in musical tribute to perhaps the greatest Italian silent film diva…

Another excellent presentation from this year’s Bonn festival and I have completely run out of reasons not to go there in 2022.

 

Magda Holm

5. The Girl in Tails (1926), Stephen Horne and Elizabeth Jane-Baldry, Bonn Silent Film Festival

I’m to be disgraced simply because I’m a girl. A meek and mild, simple and unassuming girl…

Karin Swanström’s uplifting film, a delicate mixture of comedy and drama that fully lives up to its promise as A Light Summer Film Story especially with truly delicious accompaniment from Horne and Baldry, without whom no remote access Bonn would be complete. It is notable for addressing so many issues that might be considered more modern concerns and it tackles proto feminism in ways which are never black and white, flowing naturally with the story. It’s sophisticated about its subject and uses cross-dressing as a means of creating conflict as well as comedy and makes points about fairness that doesn’t bang the drum so much as rolls it around the ballroom between social conservatism and the heroine’s “fight against injustice”.

Stephen’s multi-instrumentation and Elizabeth-Jane’s harp work so well together as they leave each other so much space and support, sharing the leading lines with the harp being used as percussion and bass as well as the heavenly flourishes you’d expect. There were some exceptionally lovely themes and the improvised was hard to separate from the pre-arranged which says it all. The ideal accompaniment for this delightful film!

 

Leslie Howard and some of my old neighbours

6. Breaking the silence… The Wit and Wisdom of A.A. Milne, BFI, with Bryony Dixon and Neil Brand

This was not my first cinema of the pandemic but it was the first silent screening with live accompaniment since March 2020… and, what a way to break the silence with BFI Curator Bryony Dixon providing expert introduction and Neil Brand accompanying with all the contextual flourish and narrative instinct you would expect.

There were two films written by Alan Alexander Milne for Minerva Films, founded in 1920 by the actor Leslie Howard with his friend and story editor Adrian Brunel. The company’s board of directors included C. Aubrey Smith, Nigel Playfair and A. A. Milne. First up was The Bump (1920) featuring Smith as the famous explorer with a “bump” that enables him to find even the darkest parts of Africa but in London he gets hopelessly lost. Smith was 57 and the film makes great play of his cragginess with a sequence notating the origins of the scars on his face, a shark bite here and a lions’ claw there; he’s explored the world and has the autographs left by every predator he’s met.

The second film featured Leslie Howard in Bookworms (1920) another witty tale of love and adventure this time transporting a knight and fair maiden to Edwardian semi-detached suburbs in what is now West Wimbledon. Turns out the location was just around the corner from where I used to live too.

 

Henry Edwards

7. The parade returns… The Joker (1928), with Stephen Horne, Le Giornate 40th Edition Streaming, Day One

The 40th Edition of Le Giornate del Cinema Muto mixed physical media and digital content with the cinemuto-philes returning to Pordenone for the full programme including live screenings, accompaniment and lashings of Aperol Spritz late into the night… and a lighter schedule available online and worldwide. It was the best of both worlds and the best we can hope for as the cautious C-19 recovery continues.

 

The streaming got off to a rip-roaring start with a big party in Nice, featuring the annual carnival, covered extensively, including one or two hangovers and a reunion of Mander and Horne; not a long-lost music hall pairing but the star of The First Born, accompanied once again by the man who produced one of the most memorable scores for modern restorations at the London Film Festival in 2011. Directed by Danish Georg Jacoby this “Euro pudding” had a charming cast to match its location and story of playboy jewel thievery with The Joker played by the British actor and director, Henry Edwards, in prototypical Bond fashion admittedly more Niven than Craig.

 

Ellen Richter

8. Moral (1928), with Donald Sosin, Le Giornate 40th Edition Streaming, Day Seven

 

The rediscovery of Ellen Richter was one of the big themes of this year’s Giornate live in Pordenone and she did not disappoint digitally either. She’s one of those performers who naturally draws the eye and apart from having charisma to burn she has a richly centred persona with a smile that radiates glee as powerfully as sardonic rage. You don’t mess with Ellen but, if you do, she’ll have you back and relish a cool revenge that aims not to destroy but to educate; it’s not just piano she teaches, it’s self-respect.

Here she plays stage performer Ninon d’Hauteville who causes a stir when her troop come to play in the provincial town of Emilsburg and whilst battling the self-appointed Moral Society, gets the chance to teach the Prince Emile XXVII’s “milksop” of a son piano and much more besides. There’s much comedy and cabaret and the fashions are spectacular but so is Ellen and knowing that enables even the truly improbable garb to hang naturally and unselfconsciously. Donal Sosin accompanied with the appropriate sense of occasion and humour.

 

9. Maciste All’ Inferno (1926), with Teho Teardo and Zerorchestra, Le Giornate 40th Edition Streaming Day Eight

This was Bartolomeo Pagano’s 26th performance as the likeable lunk who combines power and morality as the Italian superuomo first introduced in Cabiria (1913). It was something like a cross-over event in the Dante Extended Universe, a follow-up to L’Inferno (1911) with a soul-devouring Lucifer drawn directly from Bertolini, Padovan and De Liguoro’s masterpiece, a feature film diligently drawn from Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy.

 

It’s a wild ride with amazing special effects from the legendary Segundo de Chomón along with direction to die for – literally – from Guido Brignone, along with set and costume direction from Giulio Lombardozzi. Maciste must fight in Hell and it’s ugly, fierce and outrageously sexy. Hellzappopin’ alright and wonder it left such an impression on Federico Fellini who remembered it as the first film he ever saw – aged five or six? – even down to the details the capture of Maciste by Proserpina (Elena Sangro).

Spirited accompaniment was provided by Pordenone-born composer Teho Teardo who’s electronica was accompanied by local favourites the Zerorchestra along with Accademia Musicale Naonis and cellist Riccardo Pes. For this tale of many contexts, the cello represented Dante’s “voice” whilst the booming brass of the Accademia Naonis was that of Maciste. This was the performance that kicked off the pre-Festival event in Teatro Zancanaro, Sacile and I’d have loved to have been there in person to see it. Next year… next year.

 

Franciszka Themerson

10. Europa (1931/2). BFI London Film Festival 2021, Opening Night

Well, I made it to one festival at least… this was the first night of the BFI London Film Festival and the screening of a film not seen since 1933; a World Premier of its restored version no less, followed by a second screening. Europa was the first film made by Stefan and Franciszka Themerson, two radical minded Polish artists who believed in the political importance of art at a time of confusion.

This was an extraordinary session, not just in terms of the content but also the context given by William Fowler, BFI National Archive Curator, along with renowned Polish film historian and programmer, Jasia Reichardt who first met the Themersons as a child. Europa was based on a poem from Anatol Stern publishing in Reflektor magazine in 1925, attacking the relentless violence of propaganda designed to undermine critical thinking and fuel populist sympathy. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? An important film and one believed destroyed by the Nazis, Europa has outlasted them and stands as a message to us all.

 

Their house

11. Back home… The House on Trubnaya (1928), with Cyrus Gabrysch, Kennington Bioscope 

This was my first visit to the Cinema Museum since March 2020 and it was a delight to see the Kennington Bioscope back up and running. The KB carried on through the pandemic with KBTV on YouTube and whilst the path to the old place is all still familiar, what a time we’ve had. The old team was back together in the flesh and as star of stage and small screen, KBTV’s MC Michelle Facey introduced and John Sweeney warmed up for the first films… we partied like it was 2019.

Boris Barnet’s The House on Trubnaya is very clever slapstick mixed with social observation and the required political messaging: if all bosses are as venal and self-serving as in the film – even over a decade on from the Revolution – then workers need to join unions to support themselves and others, not to mention their ducks… It never lectures just wends its peculiar way scoring laughs over political points and that’s exactly why it remains so watchable.

Cyrus Gabrysch accompanied in style and relished this return to the silent film “club” he helped found. This was a fitting welcome home to him and everyone else involved in this wonderful collective.

 

Léontine takes flight

12. Anarchy in the UK… Nasty Women: A Comic Tribute, BFI with Meg Morley 

There was a guy, I’m not sure if you remember him, who once referred to his presidential rival as a “nasty woman” long ago in The Time Before. In response film historians Maggie Hennefeld and Laura Horak ran a programme of comedy shorts at the 2017 Le Giornate del Cinema Muto featuring women behaving nastily for comic effect. As there is plenty more where that came from the BFI decided on a re-run with a new-old favourites thrown in.

Thus, we had Florence Turner’s incredibly flexible fizzog in Daisy Doodad’s Dial (1914), Alma Taylor and Chrissie White giving plenty of cheek in Tilly’s Party (1912) and Texas Guinan our riding and out gunning the men in The Night Rider (1920). There was also the enigmatic gallic anarchy of the legendary Léontine, also known as “Titine” in France and Betty” in the United States, about whom almost nothing is known. Three films Léontine s’envole (1911), Léontine enfant terrible (1911) and Léontine garde la maison (1912) showed her daredevil comic flair and it is to be hoped that her story emerges in more detail. What a talent she was.

Meg Morley accompanied with thematic variety and satisfying melodic invention. No two scores were the same and she kept pace with the on-screen anarchy with the acuity of a seasoned jazz player, one used to working as part of an improvisational team, this time with her bandmates on screen.

A splendid afternoon on the Southbank and we drank a toast to the nasty but nice trailblazers who are being remembered anew.

 

So much more to discover in 2022… I hope to see you all then!

 

Iron man… Maciste All’ Inferno (IT 1926), with Teho Teardo and Zerorchestra, Le Giornate 40th Edition Streaming Day Eight

And, as always, the masses sided with the strongest…

 

This was essentially a cross-over event in the Dante Extended Universe, L’Inferno II plus Maciste XXVI equalling a completely decadent vision of Hell and an Earth of fairy tale pleasantry. It was a return to the glories of ground-breaking Italian film making with a soul-devouring Lucifer drawn directly from Francesco Bertolini, Adolfo Padovan and Giuseppe De Liguoro’s masterpiece, a feature film diligently drawn from Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy. Three years later and Giovanni Pastrone’s sensational Cabiria introduced the character of Maciste, a mighty slave who rescues the Roman girl of the title. The character was played by Bartolomeo Pagano who returns here for his 26^th performance as the likeable lunk who combines power and morality as the Italian superuomo.

 

I could quote the works of Professor SE Finer on the enduring nature of political cultures but it’s not an over-stretch to say that the Italians had always favoured strong individual leaders and, indeed, this film accepts as much with the quote at the top. Il Duce was indeed a fan and wikiparently adopted several trademark Maciste poses as part of his fascist fantasy. He was prime minister when Maciste All’ Inferno was made so perhaps that puts a more intense spin on that line… Mussolini was five feet sex inches whereas Pagano was fully six feet and Lord knows what his chest measurement was.

Maciste assailed by hundreds of extras!

Anyway… this is such a wild ride with amazing special effects from the legendary Segundo de Chomón along with direction to die for – literally – from Guido Brignone, along with set and costume direction from Giulio Lombardozzi. This looks like Hell and it’s ugly, fierce and outrageously sexy. Hellzappopin’ alright with Pluto (Umberto Guarracino) ruling over all he surveys with the definite exception of his second wife Proserpina (Elena Sangro… statuesque ain’t the word!) and daughter, the barely clothed Luciferina (Lucia Zanussi).

 

No wonder it left such an impression on Federico Fellini who remembered it as the first film he ever saw – aged five or six? – even down to the details of Proserpina’s capture of Maciste. If Albert Camus is right and a man’s work is nothing but a trek to rediscover those great images in whose presence his heart first opened then, ladies and gents, I give you Satyricon and many more…

Pluto... Umberto Guarracino

Back in the Underworld, no one’s finding much satisfaction and after Maciste despatches a troop of demons back from whence they came, Pluto despatches his best guy Barbariccia (Franz Sala, who is having the time of his life!) to Earth with a group of others all wearing evil cloaks, hats and leers. Their mission, should they choose to accept it, is to gather as many good souls as possible including that of Maciste.

 

After his many adventures, Maciste has settled in a rural idyl, tending his garden, smoking fine tobacco and drinking barrels of fine wine. He looks after his lovely neighbour Graziella (Pauline Polaire) and all is peace until the arrival of Barbariccia and the boys… After a direct confrontation doesn’t work, Macist’s brawn versus Barbariccia’s brain and magical cheats, the latter looks to find the former’s weaknesses. He targets Graziella who, though far too holy for a direct attack, is vulnerable when helping Giorgio (Domenico Serra) a young man thrown from his horse by a demon storm. The two youngsters fall in love and soon a baby arrives only for Giorgio to hop off back to the city and his bachelor freedoms, this distracts Maciste enough for Barbariccia, having stolen the baby, to trap him and transport the big man straight to Hell.

 

Franz Sala giving his all

Now the fun really begins… as Maciste fights off hoards of demons, Brignone depicts his raunchier version of Dante’s inferno and Pluto’s women try to trap Maciste into kissing them for, if any earthman kisses a she-demon he is turned into a demon and condemned to remain in the fiery pits. Well… upon the basis of the images shared here, how long do you think Maciste is going to last?

 

But damnation is not the end and there’s battles a plenty as all Hell breaks lose as Barbariccia storms Pluto’s palace.

 

This hugely enjoyable romp was perfectly accompanied by Pordenone-born composer Teho Teardo who’s electronica was accompanied by local favourites the Zerorchestra along with Accademia Musicale Naonis and cellist Riccardo Pes. For this tale of many contexts, the cello represented Dante’s “voice” whilst the booming brass of the Accademia Naonis was that of Maciste. I think this was the performance that kicked off the pre-Festival event in Teatro Zancanaro, Sacile judging from the applause at the end and, as with everything streamed, I’d have loved to have been there in person to see it!

Elena Sangro

 

Before all this we had maestro John Sweeney accompanying three Vitagraph shorts that told stories of Japan at a time when the West was fascinated in the still emerging country. Thoroughly entertaining the three shorts said as much about the country that made them as their subject: Love of Chrysanthemum (1910), Ito, the Beggar Boy (1910) and Hako’s Sacrifice (1910).

 

So, another year over and done and a brilliant “bundle” of digital and live screening… here’s to 2022 and a 41^st Edition viewed in person! 

Fellini particularly remembered Lucia Zanussi's belly button - fact!

OK, how Dante was this film?

Almost nine circles...

Feeling in Limbo

The wind-buffeted second circle... 

Nude heretics (probably) level six...

The Malebolge, eighth circle for fraudsters...

Old Nick exactly as he appears in  L'Inferno (1911) below...

For 'tis no enterprise to take in jest,

To sketch the bottom of all the universe…

Strong feelings… Maciste in Love (1919), Kennington Bioscope with Meg Morley

"Virtually everyone who has written about Maciste agrees that his strength, energy and vitality are meant and were understood at the time, as a nationalist allegory for Italy and a nation coming into its own…” Robert A. Rushing, Descended from Hercules: Biopolitics and the Muscled Male Body on Screen

After the epic Eagle of France, the Lion of Italy who turns out to be something of a pussycat or a least a Top Cat with a smile almost as broad as his chest and a twinkle in his eye signalling fun more than anything else.

It was time for some swords and sandals and some pumped up adventure at the Bioscope and a reminder of the simple joys of silent adventures into past. Maciste had originally appeared in Cabiria played by the mighty Bartolomeo Pagano as a black slave but he was brought back as a modern Italian through the meta-textural route of a woman phoning the actor's agent in Maciste (1915) after having seen him in Cabiria.

Pulled, impossibly, from the past, Maciste was a character from a simpler age engaging with a modernity that was changing Italy more quickly than some might like. Then as now people were attracted to the simple solutions born of strength rather than obscure strategies: a one-man “squadrismo” being a more effective solution for problems than debate with experts or establishment…

Bartolomeo Pagano throwing fellow cast members around in an earlier film

Maciste was a phenomenon that spanned Italian cinema’s early golden age, its commercial false dawn (371 films were made in 1920 and just 8 in 1930 according to Jacqueline Reich in The Maciste Films of Italian Silent Cinema) through to the 1960s and two films from the notorious Jess Franco in 1973 – one of which was, of course, The Erotic Exploits of Maciste in Atlantis.

Its original star was a former Genovese dockworker was either the winner of a competition to appear as the strongman in Cabiria or had been talent-spotted by actor Dominic Gambino. Either way he went down a storm and Maciste Innamorato was his eight outing. It represented a real departure as this was apparently the first time the character had ever fallen for a member of the opposite sex which is surprising as he is Italy more than he’s an Italian?

The woman in question is the worryingly petite Ada Thompson (the lovely Linda Moglia who was so good in Cyrano de Bergerac) who is in conference with several other bright young things on her father’s terrace when they notice a Maciste film being made. Excited by the movie star in their midst she insists on inviting him to dinner and dad (Orlando Ricci) is only too happy to oblige.

It’s not just the women who flock to admire Maciste, he carries two of the young men, one on each arm, up the steps and all are excited to see how his physical exuberance will express itself over dinner – how big a plate will he actually need.

But as the elite entertain themselves, the disenfranchised are being secretly up by Thompson’s min competitor who is encouraging them to strike with the aid of three employees he has bribed. These men, the wonderfully named Sherlock, Job and Bile are superb creations craven cowards who will prove very useful a throwing implements as the story unfolds.

The strikers advance on the Thompson mansion and start smashing windows. Boss-man Thompson bravely faces them down but it’s only when his super-strengthened new friend wades in that they initially retreat with one man held aloft by a pole Maciste casually drops when the agitators become film fans and start back for his autograph. Ah, the power of celebrity to sooth even syndicalist passions.

Maciste persuades the striking workers...

But even this new intervention won’t stop the baddies and they kidnap Ada in an attempt to blackmail Thompson into selling his business ridiculously cheap. He’s tough and his new pal is even tougher and the fightback begins with extraordinary round after round of capture, fight, flight and re-capture as Maciste runs rings around the hapless baddies who’s only advantage is numbers.

Call me cruel but I did especially enjoy his use of Bile or was it Job, as a human battering ram or when he casually flung Sherlock over his shoulder: in those days of high-quality good-guys it was tough work being a henchman.

Directed by Luigi Romano Borgnetto it’s all done remarkably well and the pace is mostly maintained throughout. It’s a feel-good movie, a Fit Club and a world in which might is not just right it’s funny too: Maciste is a winner in almost all things…

Some impressive framing from Borgnetto

Meg Morley accompanied and perfectly matched Maciste with musical muscle that flowed easily from covering his table-turning machismo to his more heart-felt moments: even the strongest man in the world can have his heart broken. Meg was there for him.

Before the main feature we were treated to a lovely-looking L'esclave de Phidias (1917) directed by Léonce Perret. This film featured many wonderful set-pieces from maidens mournful in summer gardens to heroes anguished on rugged coastlines. Based in ancient Greece this was a tale of forbidden love and over-vigorous revenge as sculptor Phidias (Luitz-Morat) falls for his model Callyce (Suzanne Delvé) and cruelly dumps his courtisane Quinta (Madeleine Ramey).

Quinta frames her former man, arranges for Callyce to be flogged and lives it up in transgressive all-comers style as he is exiled. The lovers have the lasting love though as they are joined in loving exile against sparkling Aegean seas.

Luitz-Morat and Suzanne Delvé

John Sweeney accompanied for this film and I could have sworn he was wearing a toga… or at least sandals.

There can never be enough films about the ancient world and those Greeks with their quaint notions of democracy before a fall.

Both films were projected on 35mm on prints supplied by the BFI: a real treat.