In spite of the relatively advanced stage of my silent
film condition, I had never seen Harold Lloyd’s Girl Shy even though I
must have seen Speedy, for instance, at least ten times. Tonight it was
an absolute revelation and with Daan van den Hurk’s sparkling jazzy score, played
by the serially impressive Zerorchestra - conducted by the man himself - the
roof on the Teatro Verdi was lifted so high we could see clearly that this week’s
rain had stopped. Jazz is energy.
As with Saxophone Suzi the accompaniment
illustrated the potency of jazz for Jazz-Age films and whereas Neil Brand’s cue
had been more of the period – Benny Goodman or Paul Whiteman big bands “hot
jazz”, van den Hurk’s score was more post-Bebop/Birth of the Cool and sometime
in the modish fifties with beautiful blends of brass and reed instruments mixed
with scintillating vibraphone runs and a rhythm section that kept the beat note
for note with Lloyd’s tight script.
The era of the music was forgotten as we synchronised in
sympathy with the themes, a repeated passage that caught perfectly Harold’s
longing for respect, a cure for his stammer and love of Jobyna Ralston. This
was the second of seven films in which the two appeared and their famous
chemistry coupled with the fact that her timing and range are crucial to his
story working. I’ve seen plenty of romantic comedies of this period – Lubitsch’s
Three Women just this morning (see below) – but few have the feeling
that the stakes are as real as this.
That’s crucial to the film’s laugh-ratio as we acre about
the two connecting and are inflected with their awkwardness and little triumphs
or setbacks on a personal level. You can’t look at those faces for so long
without falling in love with their love just a little bit and, this wonderful,
rousing score made sure you still felt it as happiness filled the square
outside the Verdi as everyone, and I mean, everyone, was beaming!
Three Women (1924) with Philip Carli
Ernst Lubitsch’s touch is strong with this one especially
in the breakneck opening third from Pauline Frederick’s character Mabel inching
the weights on her scales to disappointment to Lew Cody’s weaselly Edmund eying
up her jewels one by one at the ball when they meet. Then there’s lovelorn Fred
Armstrong (Pierre Gendron) trying to find the right moment to give his
sweetheart, Mabel’s daughter Jeanne (May McAvoy) the $50 bracelet he’s had to
pawn his watch for, his progress is thwarted by split-second misfortunes as
Lubitsch plays out a dance of frustration with said present repeatedly being
pulled from and returned to Fred’s pocket… his last chance is lost when she
opens her mother’s late-arriving gift of a diamond bracelet.
I still feel that the film loses its way after this point
and whilst its still has good moments it takes the all too limited appearance
of Marie Prevost as Edmund’s good-time girlfriend to lift the closing segment.
There are missing pieces to the narrative which might explain what comes across
as Two and a Half Women, but Lew ain’t no Adolphe Menjou and the
likelihood of both women falling for him seems remote. The narrative moves
along too quickly off screen with Jeanne’s marriage and Fred’s qualification as
a doctor all of a rush.
So, OK, it’s not The Marriage Circle but it is
still a very amusing film with much to appreciate especially with Philip Carli’s
knowing accompaniment which delighted the audience packed in to see The Lubitsch!
This was the third of the director’s three films from 1924, after the MC and
before Forbidden Paradise with Pola Negri! I wonder if Ernst saw
something of his Polish collaborator in the marvels of Giornate poster girl
Marie P? As Michelle Facey said, the following year’s Kiss Me Again with
Clara and Marie has to be top of the list of lost films that need
finding!
Historia de un Gaucho Viejo (1924) with Mauro
Colombis
Who is the gaucho, amigo?
Why is he standing in your spangled leather poncho
And your elevator shoes?
Bodacious cowboys
Donald Fagen and Walter Becker
As the week progresses and between film, talking, eating,
drinking and um, blogging, things get a bit light-headed so forgive me for
another impenetrable cultural reference if you are under middle age XL… But
there was at least a film about Gauchos and a fascinating trip to Argentina it
proved especially as the Spanish intertitles had to be translated in real time
– good job that man! – competing with Mauro Columbus’ spirited accompaniment –
your efforts are much appreciated amigos!
The film was Historia de un Gaucho Viejo (1924)
which presents as something like a western but with altogether more political
overtones explained by Andrés Levinson in his catalogue notes. The main
character Anastasio Ríos (José J. Romeu) is not just a leader of men but a
fighter for democracy in a story set before the introduction of the secret
ballot in 1912. He kills Contreras, the chief of police (Ramón Podestá), in
self defence and whilst you’d expect this to lead to a life of crime, he’s more
of a freedom fighter trying to right the injustice inherent in rural society at
this time.
After a successful raid to liberate some cattle
wrongfully taken by the authorities, he offers one of the men, Don Luna (actor
unknown) leadership and, as the two fight honourably with knives they end up
hugging in recognition of the other’s bravery and honour. This is no Duke Wayne
bar brawl but something that feels altogether more rough and real.
There are some uncompromising characters such as “El
Zorro” (Ernesto Etchepare) who is at one point bravely leading the police away
from his fellow and then another trying to sexually assault Mercedes (Mycha
Flores), Ríos’ daughter who is already involved with another man. He serenades
her with a guitar so some “western” tropes are universal.
Shot around the small town of San Rafael, located at the
foot of the Andes in the south of the province of Mendoza, the backdrops are
stunning especially with the residual colourisation. It’s another fascinating
education from Le Giornate and I am loving this South American road trip!
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For the Soul of Rafael (1920) with José María
Serralde Ruiz, Günter Buchwald, Frank Bockius, Gabriel Rigo (masterclass
student)
Someway north of the Argentina, round Mexico way there
was another remarkable score being played out by the above four piece, which
featured pianist José María Serralde Ruiz expertly inter-weaving Mexican music
of the period into the largely improvised score. Masterclass student, Gabriel
Rigo provided flamenco flourishes on guitar with Günter Buchwald on violin and
Frank Bockius hitting anything that didn’t move. It’s always a pleasure the see
the musical combinations the Giornate throws up and this one was especially fit
for purpose.
The film provided another rare opportunity to see one of
the surviving Clara Kimball Young features, an actress who was on a level with
almost anyone in the 1910s yet who has faded from memory after her career
stalled in the mid-1920s. She’s a highly watchable actor, similar perhaps to
Norma Talmadge but without the archive, or Lillian Gish without the lengthy
career.
Here she’s Marta a young woman raised in a convent who
has been pledged to marry Rafael (Bertram Grassby) the unruly son of matriarch
Dona Luisa (Eugenie Besserer) who hopes she will civilise her boy and keep him on
the straight and narrow. Before she leaves, Marta rescues and American Keith
Bryton – such a British name Keith! – from being killed by native Americans by
putting her ring on his finger. Naturally she falls in love with The Man with
the Ring and doesn’t realise that, according to native practice, she has
married him.
That’s not the only “crickey!” in the plot and the
reviewer from Moving Picture World, May 15, 1920 nails it: The story moves
on from this point to a happy ending, but with much action of tense and
strenuous nature in between. Still, it’s entertaining and fascinating to
see the actress and the kind of film that made her such a success with
audiences of the time.
Still, the accompaniment was excellent and it was good to
hear the injection of contemporary themes from the ensemble.
Dog walking brilliance!! Animals on Film…
When Winter Comes (US? 1921?)
Just as I’m missing my dog Mungo, here popped up a
splendid short documentary of a family holiday told from the point of view of
their dog. There are lovely shots of canine joy in the snow with colorised
sections too. It’s one of the unidentified films so, hopefully someone will identify
the filmmakers. Meanwhile, I can’t wait for my little four-legged fluffball to
meet snow come this winter!
With Sled and Reindeer... (1926) with Donald
Sosin
Erik Bergström’s documentary was screening as part of
Swedish Nature and Ethnographic Films strand and featured a young woman and her
family’s struggle to make a life farming deer in the far north of the country.
There were breath-taking backdrops accentuated by an opening tracking shot –
from a train? - of pure white snowy forests on endless mountains.
It is a recent restoration from the SFI and in addition
to looking gorgeous, captures a way of life that one presumes has disappeared.
The fascination then as now was man living in balance with nature. Life and
death were seen in this film as part of that process. A terrible beauty.
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