Waving not drinking... Le Giornate del Cinema Muto, Pordenone Part One

Ita Rina reclines in Estonia

Good morning, good morning, we’ve watched the whole day through good morning to you*… aka Watchin’ 9 to Half Midnight. Pordenone takes no prisoners and on my first full day I saw everything baring the odd break for comfort, coffee and an ice cream.

So, let’s start at the very ending because that’s a very good place to start*, smuggling booze from Estonia to Finland with Slovenian Ita Rina (Tonka of the Gallows, Spring Awakening et al) as a bombshell blonde in Waves of Passion (Kire Lained) and Estonian/German co-production from 1930. This film is part of the Estonian films strand and epitomises the wonder of this festival – something I’d never heard of yet which sprang to life on screen in emphatically entertaining ways; accomplished cinema muto – German angles, Russian cuts… that felt like a cross between a Bogart/Bacall or sixties crime caper with an, admittedly not quite convincing, rom-com tension between Rina and her teasing co-star/director Vladimir Gaidarov.

Rina plays Betty, the daughter of Mart Martens (Raymondo van Riel), a man being blackmailed by spirit king Jaan Kõlgis (Fritz Greiner – who bears an uncanny resemblance to Wallace Beery both physically and in spirit) into smuggling hooch up the coast to Finland. A writer Rex Ronney (Gaidarow) and his journalist pal Raimondo (Ernst Falkenberg) are tracking the crooks and Rex goes deep undercover in order to ingratiate himself with Kõlgis and bust the whole scam wide open… He reckons without Betty though and in spite of himself, falls hard and now needs to rescue her and her father from these drunken, dancing mobsters.

Ita and Vladimir

There’s fighting and sea chases a-plenty and events move on at some pace with Rina being the class act that anchors the reality whilst Gaidarow is not so good, possibly distracted by his dual role (he stuck to acting only in future). Austrian actor Fritz Greiner plays very nasty and brutish Beery well indeed.

Things were lifted by spirited accompaniment from Gunter Buckweld channelling his inner Gypsy/Grappelli on violin, Frank Bockius percussively perfect, and Stephen Horne on accordion and piano. It felt like a late-night improv in a Tallinn nightclub and the three improvised superbly with and around each other’s lines which is, after all, how they work with the shadows on the screen.

Sylvia Bremer & William S. Hart - The Narrow Trail (1917)

Before this we’d had the first in the William S Hart strand, The Narrow Trail (1917) which with its pacing, performance and glorious scenery – including San Francisco Bay, showed how much of the classic Western was in place by this time.

Hart is mesmeric in this film and, in spite of his 53 years, his Ice Harding is a believable leading man effortlessly shifting from heartless highwayman to a lovelorn loser in search of a perfect second chance, he covers it all with actorly grace whilst sitting in the saddle with the true conviction of a western soul.

He’s saved by the love of a good woman Betty Werdin (Australian-born Sylvia Breamer – the spit of Helena Bonham-Carter!) who has more in common with him than he knows. There’s an excellent fight sequence in which Ice takes on half a dancehall in something approaching method-brawling; it’s people like William and Lillian that brought authenticity to the early screen.

One of The Great Faces!

There was grand accompaniment from Philip Carli who brought dynamic delicacy to this typical Hart film, reflecting the man’s own persona. Before the film they screened a talkie introduction to his classic Tumbleweeds made in 1939, in which the 75-year old could still eulogise the old West with passion.

The day began with studio films promoting their stars and services and which not only gave us a glimpse of the likes of the Talmadges it also showed films being made on the huge lots. There was A Tour of the Thomas H Ince Studios (1920) in which the man who played a major role in setting up “factories of dreams” was shown to have an empowering fitness regime; all the better to manage and control the production process. We also learned how Paramount’s kit was the best at handling faults in spliced film… as if there was ever any doubt, they were “paramount” after all.

We did a bruising two rounds with Reginald Denny in the serial The Leather Pushers the story of a rich lad who resolves to win back his father’s business fortune through boxing. It’s perhaps not the obvious choice given his education and background but it was good fun – as will Hart and Westerns, the Boxing rags to riches – even with a broken right hand – trope was well in place by 1922.

I went down to the crossroads... RIP Ginger Baker

The Devil’s in the details of course as, erm Emil Jannings proved in Murnau’s Faust (1926) which I hadn’t seen since 2012 when it was screened at London’s Royal Festival Hall accompanied by a score composed by Aphrodite Raickopoulou. Donald Sosin performed the honours here and I think I enjoyed the film more; it’s so over-the-top and yet so compelling; Murnau and Jannings are surely brothers from another mother.

The local orchestre dell’Istituto Comprensivo di Pordenone Centro (Scuola "Centro Storico")

and Rorai-Cappuccini di Pordenone (Scuola “Pier Paolo Pasolini”) accompanied Hal Roche’s Little Rascals in Dogs of War (1923) and Baby Peggy (yay!) in Carmen Jr. (1923). This was very effective and some of the funniest films of the day were well supported musically showing that Pordenone is “growing its own” future generations of expert accompanists.

Music alone cannot guarantee success in silent screening and even maestro John Sweeney’s precision playing couldn’t keep me engaged with Albert Capellani’s La Glu (1913). The film starred the impressive Mistinguett as Fernande, a woman who marries a Doctor but just can’t stop saying no… her constant affairs become confusing and more to the point, perfunctory. Capellani’s good but even he struggles to digest the source motivations from the novel which begat the film.

Baby Peggy: no bull

The Pride of the Firm (1914) was directed by Carl Wilhelm and featured Ernst Lubitsch as Siegmund Lachmann a young man with retail ambition and healthy libido, who struggles to balance his “interests” in a work context. Like other film of his early period this one referenced Lubitsch’s own background as the son of a tailor who was less interested in retail than cinema. It’s more a series of situations/sketches than a feature narrative but it’s still fascinating to watch the director as an actor his eyes always so alive with mischief!

And that was the Sunday that was. Now, show me the way to the next coffee bar…

The dog remins Ernst of the films he may be missing... 

*Have you heard of the BFI's Musicals Season? 

Royal Festival Hall - Faust (1926)

The latest stage in my Murnau education took place at London’s Royal Festival Hall where I watched his 1926 classic, Faust, accompanied by a splendid new score composed by Aphrodite Raickopoulou . This was superbly performed by the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Benjamin Wallfisch and ably supported with some jaw-dropping piano improvisations from Gabriela Montero.

It was an evening that lifted the spirits and sent the audience away on a high…we didn’t trash the seats but we smiled our way home into the night, chattering and tweeting our satisfaction. Just what is it about silent films and live performance?

Having watched a good few silent films with live music this was my first full-blown orchestra and in the voluminous setting of the South Bank’s biggest venue, the big band worked exceptionally well. The audience was, how shall I put this, my friends … rather more… sartorially focused than your usual silent gig; more of a concert crowd perhaps?

But, even though the wife and I felt slightly under-dressed, it was a warm, friendly and highly-appreciative gathering.

The screening was introduced by Hugh Grant, a surprising choice perhaps (and one that helped lure my Catherine out on a Monday night) but one quickly explained by the fact that he’s a mate of Aphrodite’s as well as a fan of her music. He gave a typically bumbling yet humorous introduction, revealing a few fun wiki-facts on Murnau, Jannings’ unfortunate later choices of Nazi propaganda work and embarrassing the allegedly “flakey Julia on the cor anglais….”

There was also a round of applause, which I think I started, when Mr Grant made a reference to the “faustian pact” of Prime Minister David Cameron with former News of the World Editor Andy Coulson…

Apparently delighted that Aphrodite had at last been able to put out this music having “gone on about it for years”, he was gracious enough to reveal his own admiration after repeat viewings of the film.

I hadn’t seen the film before and, having viewed an excellent production of Marlowe’s play at The Globe Theatre last year, it was interesting to compare Murnau’s 1926 version of the legend. Mr Grant’s wiki-research had revealed that the story was based on a medieval alchemist who had tried to find a cure for the plague only to be accused of selling his soul…

Gösta Ekman played this Faust and gives an impressive performance as the man who surrenders all to ambition even if his road to Hell is initially paved with the good intention of curing the plague.

At the start, Faust is an old man but he reverts to his pretty youth for much of the film – an androgynous figure who’s layers of make-up reflect his misguided attempt to conceal his real self. It’s hard to feel sympathy for what looks like a refuge from Bolan or Bowie’s glam backing band but we do…there but for the grace of God…

Emil Jannings, who I last saw as the doorman in The Last Laugh – puffed out with pride one minute, literally diminished by failure the next - gives another extraordinary turn as Mephisto.

What a range he had, physically imposing and powerful yet capable of these quicksilver changes in stature and poise…all matched by his hugely expressive face: an operatic performance in all but name, complete with knowing laughs and grand gestures.

Mephisto sets the story in motion by betting the guardian angel that he can lure Faust’s soul away from God.

This he does with much alacrity sending a pestilence to Faust’s town and forcing the old man to risk his soul for a day’s “trial” of demonic power. He hopes to use this for good but he cannot cure those protected by crosses and his rejected by the god-fearing villagers.

Mephisto turns this to his advantage by offering Faust his youth and the old man buys it, setting off on a series of selfish adventures with his cunning “servant”.

But then Faust is thrown off course as he comes across the beauteous Gretchen and falls for the most innocent soul in the village.

Camilla Horn got the part of Gretchen that had been intended for Lillian Gish, the latter couldn’t make it and so Horn undertook not only her first film but also first full acting role (although her legs had been in a previous Murnau film, according to Hugh…).

She acts very well, in spite of what looks like a longer version of the hairpiece worn by Janet Gaynor in Murnau’s masterpiece Sunrise. It matters not, she’s great “very beautiful with a natural open smile” said Catherine and is particularly moving during the later scenes as Mephisto’s plan to ruin it all begins to come to fruition.

She makes the horror and the tragedy believable and her acting is a naturalistic counter weight to the pantomime villainy of Jannings and the foolishness of Faust. She’s the hero and not him.

The outline of the Faust story is familiar to most and quite clearly it isn’t going to end that well but Murnau moves the narrative in characteristically forceful manner towards the tragic denouement.

Yet, this is not quite the Faust that I saw in The Globe and there is a twist in the tale.

As you’d expect Faust is beautifully photographed by Murnau’s cinematographer Carl Hoffman, a major figure in expressionist cinema who also worked on Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. The set design from Robert Herlth and Walter Rohrig, is also amazing, another Murnau film shot entirely in studio?

The music was simply superb - very moving - and the Philharmonia Orchestra filled the huge space of the hall to the brim. This was maybe even louder than the Utley/Gregory Joan of Arc I saw last year and really suited what is an operatic and mightily expressive story.

It was another powerful example of the importance of music to silent film and the ways in which it can revitalise the creative existence of the latter bringing out new flavours, emphasising existing impressions and helping to re-connect audiences with the creative spirit of the film makers.

Music and Murnau worked in perfect tandem and to loud, sustained acclaim.

The Kino and Masters of Cinema Faust are available from Amazons all over, but I think I’ll wait until a version is available featuring this soundtrack. There's a sample here on YouTube.

Don't miss it if you get the chance to experience it live, clear and loud!