Outlaws and Jesters... Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 2026, Day Three

Landscape is image in Seastrom…

Robert Herring, Film Image: Seastrom, Close Up (Volume IV, Issue I, January 1929)

Director/actor Victor Sjöström used the coastline to stunning effect in Terje Vigan, but here he moves inland and upwards. Brilliantly photographed by Julius Jaenzon, The Outlaw and His Wife allowed Sjöström to play out his story against the rugged north Swedish countryside with his characters existing on the land and being shaped by it.

Jóhann Sigurjónsson’s 1911 play was set in Iceland but the War having rendered it impossible to use the original location, Sjöström used the barren edges of Lapland as a stand-in: Åre and Abisko in northern Sweden. Sjöström had previously directed the play in which has also played Eyvind and knew the role inside out as well as the way he was going to truly externalise it…

Writing in Close Up, primarily about The Wind, Richard Herring examined Sjöström’s environmental storytelling and the role it played in the Swedish cinematic style he helped to create realism in performance as well as place and celebrating a way of living that had often passed its time.

Their only law was their love…

Edith Erastoff

Eyvind arrives in a small town encountering a wool poacher Arnes (John Ekman) just about getting away with his haul hidden under lichen (makes great soup boiled in milk, apparently: how sparse was their existence). Arnes directs him to the farm of a well-off widow called Halla (Edith Erastoff – who was married to Sjöström from 1922 to her death in 1945) who would be able to offer him work. Calling himself Kari he soon begins to make his mark, his strength and intelligence marking him out as a superior worker.

He begins to get closer with Halla much to the annoyance of the local bailiff, Björn Bergstéinsson (Nils Ahrén) who has already been rejected by her in no uncertain terms. Someone recognises Kari as the outlaw Eyvind – wanted for stealing a sheep to feed his starving family and whilst he denies it to the Bailiff – easily besting him in a short fight – he confesses all later that night offering the hand himself in. But Halla is having none of it, she’s found her man and is sure of his character and they agree to head to the mountains and live outside society.

Will society leave them to it and most importantly will their love survive?

This is an unusual story and in Sjöström’s way is told powerfully and in ways that draw on the audience’s full engagement. As usual the camerawork from Julius Jaenzon’s is superb, highlighting the actors against the raw beauty of the landscape, atop vertiginous cliff faces or staring out across glaciated valleys: life in all its harsh simplicity away from the mean constraints of a society that placed the value of livestock higher than its citizens.

It's above all the rawest, purest of love stories and we had those two masters of musical drama, Neil Brand and Günter A. Buchwald on piano and violin and combining to fill the epic spaces of the rugged mountains on screen and the void between the two lovers and our watching hearts. This will be hard to beat the Swedes were creating cinema with a sense of vitality and reality that most others could not match. It wasn’t just Victor skinny-dipping in a raging mountain river but the places he and his troupe were willing to go in service to the story.

 

Manzini abides...

L’Arzigogolo (IT 1924), with Baldry, Bockius and Horne (BBH)

 

Never have we seen Italia Almirante so perfectly at her best; an exquisite figure of an intelligent woman, her plastic beauty - which her sumptuous clothes keep soft - makes the complex, enigmatic figure of Violante more lively and suggestive.

Luciana Grimaldi in La rivista cinematografica of November 30, 1923

 

The Italians, of course, had their own “Golden Age” and their own highly expressive cinematic language but by 1924 the cocktail party take would have their films in decline and the age of the diva, well and truly over. Well, let’s see what Italia Almirante Manzini has to say about that shall we?

Turns out rather a lot in what can only be described as a highly distinctive film that plays with form and expectation as a Violante, a princess on a schedule to accept a suitor but who just doesn’t want second or, definitely, third best, she wants to marry for love. Directed by Mario Almirante and based on Sem Benelli's "burlesque poem" it features spectacular costumes designed by Caramba as well as stunning Renaissance sets that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Fairbank’s Robin Hood.

Her suitors are an angry entitled knight (Alberto Collo), a strange man (Oreste Bilancia) with some kind of magical link to cats and rats… and a jester more philosophical than funny (Annibale Betrone). Violante wrongfoots them, as the narrative refuses to go the way you’d expect. As one Italian speaker pointed out, the translation doesn’t really do the original text justice as there is so much smuggled meaning in the script taken from Benelli.

It held me rapt in ways only the Sjostrom had managed today and I would urge you to seek it out. In terms of that “golden age”, this was Manzini’s final film as she headed back to the theatre and she is the perfect diva in this film, playing the role of the enigmatic princess with real depth and sheer power: it’s always better to burn out rather than fade away and here she shines brightly.

 

If the film was off the scale so was the musical accompaniment from Stephen Horne, Frank Bockius, Elizabeth-Jane Baldry using piano, percussion and harp in ways these instruments cannot have been designed to do, attacking the narrative and mood with a fast-moving attack that constantly rotated the leading lines and shots on target in much the same way as Liverpool FC’s Mane, Firminho and Salah in their prime.

The trio also played for Med Sporvogn Gennem Aarhu’ Gader (DK 1905) which provided a wonderful tram’s eye view of the city as well as other trams. I’m loving these rail-based films and feel we need even more!

Just look at it!!!!

A film from Italy’s golden age, the stencilled and hand-coloured Stellina, La Pescatrice di Venezia (1912) was an eye-popping pleasure with the selective colouring making the characters jump out of the screen on this restoration and La Serenissima looking bellissimo as she always does. It concerned the relationship between a poor fisherman’s daughter and a rich count who was keen on this fresh conquest only to find that pride can’t be bought. A dynamic and twisted tale!

Also screening at the Teatro Verdi on this fine Monday:

 

A sequence of comic shorts featuring Mr. & Mrs. Sidney Drew with whom I was unfamiliar, and which were most chucklesome. I was especially impressed with Ethel Lee who plays the fearsome Aunty in Auntie’s Portraits (1915) and the domineering mother-in-law in the fab Fox Trot Finesse (1915) – dancing clearly not healthy if used to excess. Philip Carli accompanied in style!

 

The first of the Spanish Cinema programme featured a variety of documentary shorts of which those from the 1890s from the Lumière brothers were the most interesting: 131 years on and we still look at humanity projected from film they captured. The score composed by Brais González was excellent and performed by the Caspervek Ensemble - Brais González (pianoforte), Laura Lorenzo (flauto), Virginia Lis (clarinetto), Óscar Presa (trombone), Ángel Saavedra Arozamena (chitarra spagnola).

 

In the rediscoveries I was already familiar with the smart comedy of A Victim of Circumstances (US 1913) as it is part of Christopher Bird’s collection and has been screened at the Kennington Bioscope to much glee as a young man forbidden from marrying a rich man’s daughter because he was temporarily taken to the police station, finds the tables turned as the old man get’s arrested for stealing a wallet. Instant Kharma.

This was rather more rewarding than Marshall Neilan’s rather repetitive and formless The Billionaire (US 1914) which wore out its welcome well before the 45-minute mark… not all Keystone films were golden.

Gabriel Thibaudeau nevertheless gave it his best shot on piano accompaniment.

To Germany and a clip from an unidentified “Antisemitic Film” which was horrifically cliched as you might expect with an older man bossing a younger woman around with exaggerated “Jewish” mannerisms. The context is unknown, but this kind of representation was loaded then as now, and I have to say that Meg Morley accompanied with the perfect tone and improvised composition.

Her work on the next film, Haddas Rache (DE 1919) was also exceptionally rich in driving themes and melodies – a “conversational” jazz-inflected style all of her own that served this tumultuous film well. Directed by Jaap Speyer, it featured some well-known Weimar faces including Reinhold Schünzel being a rat as usual and starred Mia Pankau as the woman scorned.

 

Ivy Close staying very still...

Lastly, I loved the films in the first part of the Greco-Roman Antiquities programme. There were a couple of Louis Feuillade (probably) films of which The Legend of Midas (FR 1909) was my favourite as he gets given asses’ ears after displeasing the Gods and then has to try and hide it.

The British film Pygmalion and Galatea directed by Elwin Neame in 1912 was good value and featured Ivy Close looking as young as I’ve ever seen her as Pygmalion’s sculpture that was “more beautiful than any woman” in the eyes of its famously woman-hating creator. He asks the Gods to make her real and generally gets what he deserves. I’m sure Ivy would soon bring him in line.

Mauro Colombis provided period appropriate accompaniment to the swords and sandals and there was zero controversy over the casting and the translations… It was a different time for mythical history in the movies!

 

 

 

12,000 mm under the sea… Wonders of the Sea (1922), Horne and Bockius, Bonn Silent Film Festival 2026

J.E. Williamson's career is emblematic of a period in filmmaking, long past, when pioneers were part-scientist, part-showman and part-promoter on endeavours that involved as much adventure as technology.

Brian Taves, Ph.D., University of Southern California

 

John Ernest Williamson was born in Liverpool in 1881 making him yet another Silent Scouser although he was not related to the Mr Williamson who laid out Williamson Square in 1745. No, his father was Captain Charles Williamson, a seafarer from Norfolk, Virginia who patented his "Apparatus for Submarine Work” in December 1903. This was a three-foot diameter tube, made of a series of interlocking iron rings covered with a mix of canvas and rubber and provided a waterproof connection between the surface and the sea below.

 

Originally designed for underwater repair work, salvage and so on, John adapted this to incorporate a six-by-ten feet diving bell with a large, reinforced, window which enabled him to film in actual underwater locations. This “Photosphere” enabled him to not only be the first man to take a picture underwater from a submarine but also to create a series of stunning films starting in 1914 when he took his device onboard his ship, the Jules Verne, to the Bahamas, where sunlight shines deep into the sea.

 

An observation chamber made entirely of metal, weighing three tons and equipped with a crystal window four centimetres  thick…

 

Moving Picture World proclaimed that “Jules Verne is vindicated at last… the panorama is as entrancing as it is new.” Whilst The Evening Standard (23 July 1914) suggested that the photosphere “has amazed the scientists and diplomats…” although I’m not quite sure why the latter were notable? His most famous film is probably 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea which aligned his technique with a purely fictional subject and included a mechanical octopus to match his imagined giant creature. He was clearly as inspired as any schoolboy by undersea adventure and creatures of the depths.

 

This sparkling new restoration from the Austrian Film Museum, combines archive fragments found across Europe and Australia to recreate this extraordinary documentary/adventure from 1922 but it’s not without modern day quibbles.

 

It may not have been widely known at the time but Octopuses, whether in their garden or not, are rarely dangerous to humans normally avoiding their pathetically four limbed fellow creatures rather than engaging in arm-wrestling or injecting them with poison (although some are venomous). Mr Williamson preferred to suggest that they were “formidable monsters” and at one point we even see a supposed victim of a savage cephalopod execution with a bit of skeleton next to a divers’ helmet… pull the other one John lad.

JE Williamson, Dick, Lulu and "painter" in the underwater studio

 

Similarly, whilst Conger Eels can look after themselves alright, the one we see proposed as such a danger to the divers - so much so that they ask for a spear to be lowered – just wants to be left alone rather than prodded by the intrepid explorers. The eels can grow over two metres and will attack if left with no other escape but this one’s a juvenile and unfairly pulled into the action. I’ve seen more frightening scenarios in a Georges Méliès’. Also, the barracuda is not “the most ferocious of all sharks” and it’s not even a shark.

 

Consider yourself told John Ernest, at least from the point of view of 2026. But this was all part of the “blended reality” of his films and this stretches back to his earliest films one of which featured him attacking a shark lured by a horse carcass into the sea. To most of the audiences of the time this would have been an exciting part of this window into an unknown world… and was very much inline with a whole raft of ethnographic documentaries then and in the decades to follow.

 

The premise involves a collection of colourful characters off to explore the seas around the Bahamas specifically “Treasure Island” whose reefs have claimed so many ships carrying riches… and around which we find the monsters. Sir Williamson is accompanied by master diver, Jack Gardner, ship’s Captain Ross and his mischievous son Dick who provides comic relief during the journey out to the island. Also included is “a talented painter” and his “niece” Lulu McGrath… It’s all very Jules Verne and in the spirit of his great adventurers.

 

Lulu is there for a number of reasons but mostly to look very good in a swimming costume. She was runner-up in the first Miss America beauty pageant but equally importantly she can swim well and smile at the same time bringing glamour to the proceedings and diving to a depth of 12 metres with the aid of a 8 kg led weight which gave her more time to swim around in front of the submerged “studio” and she dives so well that Williamson repeats the shots in slow motion. A proper diving belle… although some will also be impressed with the muscular “local” who dives to retrieve the weight and swim it strongly to the surface.

 

Is this not a dreamlike spectacle, the vision of a new world?

 

The shots from the sea floor are indeed wondrous and it would be interesting to compare the coral and aquatic life now with then. We are so used to underwater photography that it’s difficult to imagine how mind-blowing this footage would have seemed at the time. A landscape as alien as Mars and about which we are still learning more with every year.

 

Lulu makes a bigger splash!

Next up are the divers who descend in search of treasure after they have bothered a few innocent fish. It’s still an awesome sight and they are operating two different breathing systems: one fed by a line from the surface and the other using carbon blocks to recycle the air. Both braver than me and a proxy for the audience’s adventure into this unknown.

 

We are also treated to a rare glimpse of the famous land mammal, inventor Alexander Graham Bell who descends in the photosphere just as you’d expect even for a pioneer in his 75^th year.

 

Talking of pioneers, this submersive treat was made all the more immersive by the singular talents of Frank Bockius on percussion and Stephen Horne on piano and everything else. They really pushed the boat out in combining to create new moods to connect with the old feelings and elevated the adventure in the most visceral of fashions. We need to see them play it under-water next in the spirit of The Williamson Technique and his approach to health and safety! Totally inside their depth and well played!

 

Bonn delivering yet another fascinating restoration.

 

 

 

 

 

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!

 

 

Knives Out… Sensation im Wintergarten (1929), Bonn Silent Film Festival 2025 streaming, with Günter Buchwald and Frank Bockius

We have only the crème de la crème…(at the Wintergarden)

 

As a child during our regular family trips up the Lancashire coast I would be terrified as we watched the daring young men and women on the flying trapeze in the Blackpool Tower Circus as they swung high above our heads with no safety net, only flesh, bone and sinew away from a fall to their death. I knew they probably wouldn’t fall but my heart was always in my mouth as I watched them take their chances and it was always a relief once they had finished.

 

Now none of these acrobats enlivened the jeopardy by fixing long swords to the floor and then to a hoop through which they would fly at the end of their routine but in Their Son aka Sensation im Wintergarten, this is exactly what the great “Frattani” does and it is not just his sweetheart who hopes he will keep on swinging rather than being sliced and diced in his shiny silk costume… it’s also exactly the kind of device an ill-wisher might use to finish the man off. It’s the most gruesome variant of Chekhov's gun principle, if you see it in Act IV it will, probably, “go off” by Act VII… Chekhov's water torture more like.

 

Looks easy doesn't it?

After the trapeze artists my relief was always short-lived for then we had the always sinister clowns, led by the legendary but scary Charlie Cairoli. Laugh? I could have cried. It’s safe to say that there was no danger of my running off to join the circus but this is exactly what young Count Paul Mensdorf does in this picture, escaping from his disciplinarian stepfather Baron von Mallock (Gaston Jacquet looking just as shifty as he would with Louise Brooks in Prix de beauté (1930), weasel eyes and untrusting moustache…). Mallock has somehow worked his way into the affections of Paul’s mother Gräfin (Erna Morena) and, having secured his meal-ticket treats her son with cruel disdain.

 

Paul (Alphons Schünemann at this point), runs away and comes across a circus and, watching through a break in the tarpaulin is captivated by what he sees. He’s spotted by a friendly clown Barry (a very good Vladimir Sokoloff, a Russian emigree who would soon depart for Hollywood) and pulled into the new family of acrobats and jugglers. He meets one of the young stars, the horse-rider Madeleine (Alexandra Nalder) and the two form an instant friendship.

 

Vladimir Sokoloff and Claire Rommer "enjoy" the show...

The film actually starts with Paul (Paul Richter) now a world-famous trapeze artist under the name of Frattani as he travels across to Europe on an ocean liner from New York. He’s spotted by a group of young women as he trains and we see a newspaper revealing that this “King of the Air” is coming to perform in Europe for the first time. There’s some good business with cinematographer Mutz Greenbaum’s camera following Paul as he swings back and forth finally puling the curtains on his admirers before focusing on the muscular form (had Herr Richter not fought dragons in Die Nibelungen?) and a thoughtful fade back to his childhood and the split from his mother who now believes him long dead.

 

In Berlin there are wonderful street scenes as the camera follows traffic through the Brandenburg Gates and along Friedrichstraße to the Wintergarden wherein are promised “Internationales Varieté”. The stage sequences were filmed in the Wintergarden and its huge auditorium allows director Gennaro Righelli to pull the camera too and from the performance area and across the audience adding so much atmosphere to the proceedings especially when using a multitude of local talent, dancers, high-wire artists, acrobats and chorus girls. The venue was destroyed during the war but rose again in Potsdamer Straße*.

I wish I knew who the Dodge Twins were?

Back in 1929, Paul is reunited with Madeleine (now grown up as Claire Rommer) who is queuing with dozens of other hopefuls at an audition for a chorus girl. She has fallen on hard times and yet not even Paul's status is enough to persuade the hard-nosed Varietédirektor (Adolphe Engers) to give her a chance. But the King of the Air is nothing if not determined and he manages to wangle her a shot as “Mademoiselle Madeleine, the famous dancer from the Folies Bergère” and, after instructing the orchestra to play the Eccentric Charleston knowing she can and does ace it, whetting the whistle not only of the salacious director but also of Baron von Mallock who has already made his entrance and sexually harassed half the usherettes before even making it to his seat.

 

The Baron has only gotten worse over the intervening years and is fleecing Paul’s mother as he spends his time gambling and cavorting with other women and he immediately sets his sights on Madeleine and her long legs. The sequence is so well handled with the camera pulling away over the audience as Madeleine dances across the stage giving a real impression of the space and also the atmosphere as the sub-plots line up with cuts to the Baron, the manager, Paul and Barry cheering on the jazz.

Gaston Jacquet and Erna Morena

Then we get the build up to Paul’s turn as Clown Barry sets up the deadly basis for his act, only a clown could show how sharp the swords are and only a laughable figure could reinforce the morbid possibilities of this shiny steel… the slightest slip and the acrobat is guaranteed a bloody end. Richter appears to be doing some of the work himself including balancing on his head on his trapeze but the trickier work must have been a stunt man? It’s edited well though and you can almost feel the audience as uneasy as I was as a child in Blackpool.

 

Paul is on top of his game but having found his love with Madeleine he starts to worry about his ability to perform, he now has something to live for and danger loses it’s thrill. Meanwhile the Baron won’t play fair with anyone and once he realises who Frattani is, there can only be one or two outcomes, especially when Paul’s mother also finds out. I can guarantee a stressful denouement.

 

Talking of magnificent men performing the seemingly impossible, I give you Günter Buchwald and Frank Bockius whose accompaniment was recorded live at the Bonn screening and reproduced for this streaming. The two are so familiar with each other they always play in sympathy with the action on film and the circus atmosphere would not be the same without Herr Bockius triplets and paradiddles whilst I still do not know how Herr Buchwald manages to seemingly play both violin and piano at the same time. Epic work gentlemen and next year, I promise, I will be in Bonn to see how this all works in person!

 

This was the premier of a new digital restoration from 2024-25 which built on earlier filmic materials combining a vintage positive print from the Swedish Film Institute with the DFF’s nitrate materials to create a version missing only a few sections which are covered by new title cards. It’s pretty complete, minus the third act, and whilst not exceptional is a very entertaining snapshot of German theatrical culture as well as film culture at this time.

 

This is as close as we’ll ever get to a night out at the Wintergardens!

Man on a wire... the documentary element gives the film more grounding

* The Wintergardens were – probably – the first theatre to screen films using the Bioscop projector in 1895 when its inventors the Skladanowsky brothers put on a show. This was, of course, a year after the Blackpool Tower Circus began its uninterrupted 130 years run. It all connects!

 

There is more about the venue and it’s destruction by Allied bombs in the Second World War here: https://www.berlinluftterror.com/blog/wintergarten-kabarett

 

Last word to Lotte Eisner writing at the time and quoted on the Bonn website…

 

Claire Rommer is allowed to show two sides of her talent, to be a charmingly quiet creature and suddenly transform into a spirited, eccentric dancer. This truly gives her the element of surprise that the film's narrative envisions. Her beautiful body wrapped in a glittering leotard, she dances a baker's dance, lithe and full of verve.

Lotte H. Eisner, Film-Kurier, No. 212, September 6, 1929

 

 

 

Spiderwoman... The Cave of the Silken Web (1927), with Richard Seidhoff and Frank Bockius, Silent Film Days Bonn 2023

 

Long ago, well before these days of superhero fatigue, it was perfectly reasonable to expect a film involving a league of spider-powered witches to take on a monk and his gang of animal heroes. At least in China, in 1927, where this uncanny adventure was no doubt a huge hit. This was not the China we know of course, a diverse country still carrying vestiges of imperial rule and split across territories years before the communist party take over.

 

The Cave of the Silken Web (Pan si dong) (1927) – or 西遊記-盤絲洞; 西游记-盘丝洞 if you want to be precise… was based on the classic story, The Journey to the West, which relates a monk’s pilgrimage to India during the Yang Dynasty (618-907, our time). As with other cultures, the early films tended to call upon the literary, artistic and performance heritage and China was clearly no different with this startling and entertaining mix of action, adventure and comedy; there’s a reason this story was so popular and it contains a magical melange of religion, sexy witches and, erm, magic all illustrated by an impressively choreographed cast.

 

The real delight here is the performance styles which combine the pantomimed exaggerations you’d expect from Western cinema but also the natural emoting you find too; just because you’re a spider-woman or a cannibal mage doesn’t mean to say you can’t act naturally and whilst there’s a joking knowingness there’s also a delicious matter of factness that infects these characters who only want what they want. I mean, is eating monks really so wrong?

Xia Peizhen  and Yin Mingzhu

 

The film was based on Journey to the West, a Chinese novel written in the 16th century during the Ming Dynasty and attributed to Wu Cheng'en. Apparently, this it is one of the four great classical novels of Chinese literature and predates the novel form in Britain, we’d have to wait for Richardson and Fielding for that although we were very good at plays at this stage. For folk of my age, another one of the great four novels is the 14th-century book Water Margin which was made into a very successful television series in Japan and dubbed by the great Burt Kwouk for UK presentation. The style is very similar, rapid action, mysticism and lots of humour.

 

Very little survives from Chinese cinema of this vintage and indeed this film was considered lost until a copy was found in the Norwegian National Library and restored with both Chinese and the Norwegian intertitles which add extra Scandinavian flavours. The first reel is lost as is a section in which our hero takes a bath possibly with the company of the spier women… guess we’ll just have to use our imaginations. It feels intact and something like a miracle, popping off the screen with so much style and energy.

 

The film was directed by Dan Duyu who directed some 30 films from 1922 to 1952 and who was married to the film’s leading spider woman, Yin Mingzhu. They ended up in Hong Kong and their daughter, Judy Dan, ended up in Hollywood with a bit part in The King and I and leading roles in War is Hell, Stagecoach to Dancers’ Rock and others. Yin Mingzhu has a story of her own though and she was already famous and married to a Frenchman, when she met Duyu, playing a part in elevating him to success. She had acted in the theatre and was also involved in the finance and production of films with the Shanghai Shadow Play Company (love that title!) and the Shanghai Talkie Company, both doing exactly what it says on the tin.

Jiang Meikang surrounded by his new pals...

Her character certainly shines through in this film as the leader of the seven spider women who interrupt a monk, Xuanzang (Jiang Meikang) on a pilgrimage to India where he has been tasked by the Emperor, “the Son of Heaven himself”, to collect sacred texts. He is accompanied on his quest by three disciples, the clever and mischievous Monkey (Wu Wenchao), the lazy and glutinous Pigsy (Zhou Hongquan) and Sandy (Dan Erchun) a river spirit, plus a fourth character - the Dragon prince - who has taken the form of a white horse (a white horse) in order to carry the holy man. All have been given their roles in order to atone for their misdeeds, and their wayward ways have hardly left them.

 

It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a monk, let me at him!

 

Xuanzang leaves his companions to beg for food and is called into their cave by the beautiful women, who are very keen to offer the monk their hospitality whatever that may entail… they fuss over the starving priest but when one of them (Xia Peizhen aka second spider spirit) goes into their kitchen she instructs are rather oily and over-excited imp who instantly knows the aim is to eat Xuanzang and thereby give themselves a taste of his spirit and possibly immortality. Takes all sorts.

 

By this time the monk’s companions are beginning to get suspicious and Pigsy goes off to investigate. Meanwhile, back in the cave the women offer the Monk meat which he cannot eat as he’s as vegetarian as he is holy and then persuade him to take a bath before deciding to join him in an unexpected twist. All thoughts of early seventies British sex comedy-style splashing about are quickly dashed though as the focus switches to Pigsy as he forces his way into find his master. He’s quickly trapped in a spider web as the action speeds up.

Don't let this man cook for you...

The scene shifts to a man in white, the thousand-year-old centipede spirit (He Rongzhu) who is with a younger Yellow Flower Daoist spirit (Chen Baoqi) reading magical texts; they look harmless enough but will soon join the attempted feast in the cave. Meanwhile manic Monkey enters the cave, transforms himself into one of the spider women and frees Pigsy, as the women try to get the Monk drunk – nothing seems to work on him not even the unseen mixed bathing…

 

The Spider Queen decides to marry the Monk and goes off to invite the man in white and others to her wedding whilst Monkey, Pigsy and Sandy are visited by Guanyin who tells them they need The True Flame and The Three Virtues to stand a chance against the demons. But is it too late as the wedding begins, with dozens of magical guests and The Dance of the Demons of Carnality begins with the Monk in the position of sexual prey normally reserved for women in Western scenarios.

 

There’s such a light touch to the direction and the fight scenes are so well put together, Monkey vs the Queen in a sword fight, the greasy cook and his huge metal mallet versus Pigsy and his rake and then all Hell breaking loose… The costumes and make up are exceptional and the performers presenting as relaxed and naturalistic in the context of this comedic pantomime. Maybe this was the spirit that the authorities wanted to suppress rather than the end product itself.

Wu Wenchao is the cheeky Monkey

Richard Seidhoff and Frank Bockius had so much fun with this, Franks’ percussive variety and energy reflecting the extremes of violence and drama whilst Richard weaved some delicious lines over the sweet and sour storyline.

 

This was another screening from Bonn and one of the biggest surprises of the week… the shock of the old! We wish there were more but what there is enough to illustrate how vivid Chinese cinema was at this period. A visual feast and an imaginative riot!

 

Xia Peizhen

The Hounds of Love… Hippfest 2023 Day Four

I’m no expert but I reckon the best pace to appreciate an ovation, apart from the stage of course, is up in the gods, with a view of the stalls erupting with cheers and applause whilst all around you in the wide sweep of the second tier join in even as you find yourself whooping. At the best festivals the applause accumulates through the day as the feeling moves in the face of fascinating presentations and high-quality programming and we saw it today, from the genius of Charlie Chase at the start through revelations of early women animators to stunning Ukrainian documentary and onto one of the canon, the iconic gothic neo-horror of The Man Who Laughs.

Neil Brand, John Sweeney, researcher Mindy Johnson, Ukrainian players Roksana Smirnova and Misha Kalinin then finally Meg Morley and Frank Bockius built up a momentum of good will and, indeed, vibrations throughout this splendid Saturday that reached a crescendo at the end of Conrad Veldts’/Gwynplaine’s great escape – with the aid of his dog Homo of course; have there ever been so many heroic hounds on one screen? The Hippodrome is circular in construction, built when Picture Houses had yet to find a set design, and that’s perfect for the acoustic and emotional response that built high into the rafters as the evening closed, a swirling storm of appreciation under the concave roof.

The day had started with a classic one-two from Charley Chase with Dog Tired (1926) and the mighty Mighty Like a Moose (1927) a work of World-cultural significance. Charlie’s the white collar comic, as Neil Brand suggested, a Basil Fawlty figure who always trips himself up with his over elaboration and yet who wins us back with his charm and self-depreciation; he knows what a fool he’s been. Things also tend to work out for Charley, he gets the girl (Mildred June) thanks to the unlikeliest of coincidences in Dog Tired and even after trying to bath her intended groom, a rich but untrustworthy duke (Stuart Holmes) after confusing him with the dog, also called Duke.

Vivien Oakland and Charley Chase

In Mighty Like a Moose, Charley and his wife, Vivien Oakland, both get plastic surgery on the same day, he for his buck teeth and she for her nose. They bump into each other and, failing to recognise themselves, embark on an illicit flirtation which culminates with Charley having to pretend to have discovered his own interlope and battling himself for his wife’s honour in the bathroom. It’s meta and it’s hilarious.

I’m definitely in the doghouse for missing Rin-Tin-Tin in his debit feature, Where the North Begins (1923) but, to be honest, I prefer his later stuff… this did leave me refreshed for the revelations in Mindy Johnson’s talk about early women animators. This is ongoing research but it’s clear that women we as involved in this line of work as they were in the whole film industry in the teens and early twenties before male corporate oppression. The focus was on Bessie Mae Kelley who worked with and inspired the likes of Max Fleischer, Paul Terry and Walter Lantz, not to mention some young fella named Walt Disney. As ever the prime movers in collaborative enterprises like film are hard to untangle but without doubt Bessie Mae deserves recognition and more will come as Mindy’s research continues.

Next up we went to Ukraine for a poignant documentary In Spring (1929) based in an around a Kyiv during the punishing first of Stalin’s five year plans, not that you would know it from a film with a no-doubt propagandist remit. That said, filmmaker Mikhail Kaufman’s face-paced spectacle shows the people as much as the landscape and the industry and their spirit says everything both historically and in terms of the daily lives. The work is as hard as it ever was and yet there’s joy amongst the enterprise and cycle-riding, sometimes backwards too.

 

Kaufman was Dziga Vertov and had been cameraman on Man with a Movie Camera; here he shows the same deft touches, the ability to make connections and convey dozens of micro-narratives within an over-arching “symphony” of the city and surrounds. The angles are acute, the cutting highly-energised and the overall effect is remarkable.

 

The same can be said of the accompaniment from Ukrainian musicians Roksana Smirnova and Misha Kalinin who created a deceptively space soundscape interchanging leading lines between Roksana piano and Misha’s effects-laden guitar. The connection between the modern invention and the century old film not only served the traditional purpose of accompaniment but obviously re-contextualised the essential continuities of a society now under so much threat. A wondrous humanistic statement and Alison Strauss in her introduction once again found just the right words to capture our support and sympathy; this festival has some heart.

Promotional poster for In Spring

 

After some tea and cake – Scotland you’re treating me – we took our seats for today’s big finish and the combination of Conrad Veidt’s teeth, Mary Philbin’s sweetness and Olga Baklanova’s erm, everything guaranteed the entertainment, not to mention Zimbo the Dog who plays Homo, the Dog!

 

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 represents a Hollywood high-point of expressionist unease from Paul Leni, the man who directed Waxworks and The Cat and the Canary. It says much for contemporary sensibilities that audiences were attracted to the dark disturb of this tale. Connie 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 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… or some-such evil.

 

On paper it sounds daft as all get out 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. Now that’s a modern family!

 

Connie and Mary

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.

 

Gwynplaine’s father may be long gone but he has an inheritance and a peerage he knows nothing about.  The current 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. The Queen’s evil aid, Barkilphedro (Brandon Hurst having A Ball!), 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…

 

A baddy, yesterday

Things are complicated by the Duchess Josiana’s response on seeing Gwynplaine’s show, she cannot decide whether to laugh or lust… there’s something more deeply intriguing about Gwynplaine’s unrelenting grin and she is determined to explore the possibilities.

 

The intrigue ramps up as Queen Anne appoints the clown to the House of Lords – I know! – and responsibility of state and political machinations once again threaten the happiness of all citizens… perhaps only Homo can save the day??

 

Meg Morley and Frank Bockius absolutely raised the bloody roof on this one with two hours of playful accompaniment with so much swing and propulsive charm – I love to hear their jazz sensibilities in this kind of endeavour and there’s was not a hit or a note out of place. Magnificent and everyone else in the room agreed with me!!

 

Bravo Hippesfest!