The big finish… The Chess Player (1927), Mark Fitz-Gerald with San Marco Orchestra, Le Giornate del Cinema Muto! Pordenone, Day Eight

That was the way to bow out, thousands of soldiers on horseback running at and around the camera as they charge, quick cuts of faces in battle, sword slashes, men falling… all as Edith Jehanne’s character plays the Polish anthem on her piano, envisaging a triumph as the San Marco Orchestra played Henri Rabaud’s original score at full volume.

It’s been a grand – exhausting - week and this last push lifted our tired spirits high up to the huge screen of the Teatro Verdi, fully engaging in Raymond Bernard's images and thoughts brimming over with so many highlights and wonderful conversations with a community passionately interested in communication, history and preservation. A week of shared values which showed, as the man said, how culture transcends boundaries. With attendees from across the globe, Le Giornate proves this every year as, whether from the Lower East Side, the North West, the Far East or the East End, we all want to learn more and to enquire without. Cinema Muto: it’s film for the curious…

The Chess Player is a masterclass in late-silent cinema technique that was made at the same time as Gance’s Napoleon and shares some of the scope and invention with the mobile camera and epic scale as well as innovative cutting, framing and that focus on filming thought… as Charles Dullin’s character, the clockwork inventor, faces his demise he sees the clogs of life turning and his death comes not wearing a shroud or on horseback but as an automaton… with a scythe the shape of a clock’s ticker.

Edith Jehanne et Pierre Batcheff

It’s a film of two halves, literally as well as figuratively: set in Eighteenth Century Poland after the Russian invasion of 1776, the first part covers the delicate balance between the locals and the occupying army of Tsarina Catherine II (so different from Pola Negri’s Tsarina…).

Debonair Pierre Blanchar is the pig-tailed Polish noble, Boleslas Vorowski, a master chess player and military leader who’s adopted sister Sophie Novinska (Edith Jehanne) seen as a symbol of Polish independence with her face even painted on the army’s standards. Her ward is the mysterious inventor Baron von Kempelen (Charles Dullin) a man whose genius has earned him royal favour and yet who seems to harbour deep agendas.

Sophie loves Boleslas like a brother, and loves his unlikely best friend, a Russian officer Serge Oblomoff (Pierre Batcheff) in a quite different way. But love of country will soon intervene and tear them apart. A friendly game of chess between Boleslas and the Russian Major Nicolaieff (Camille Bert) as the officer’s relax in the mess, degenerates after a Polish dancer, Wanda (Jackie Monnier), is pursued by an aggressive group of Russian offices. Boleslas goes to her rescue and starts a fight that sparks a war.

Pierre Blanchar et Edith Jehanne 

The Poles succeed in driving the Russians from Vilnius but they are eventually defeated by the latter’s superior numbers. There follows the battle mentioned at the top as the real battle is imagined by Sophie at her piano… Jehanne is just superb in this moment, emotion playing across her face as fluidly as the piano combinations as she watched and hopes in tortured isolation.

The uprising is brutally suppressed and whilst Boleslas survives the battle he is badly wounded, as the Russians search him out the Baron has an idea… it’s crazy, but it just might work. And so, it is that we take a left turn down the alley marked Georgian Steam Punk or at least the 1920’s equivalent of science fantasy.

Catherine is the Great Big Cheat!

Von Kempelen has invented many disturbing automatons, including one of himself and a platoon of sword-wielding full-size toy-soldier and he has an idea how to hide Poland’s great hope as he recuperates… inside a chess-playing automaton called the Turk. The film now shows the tour of The Turk, accompanied by von Kempelen, Sophie and Wanda, as the mechanical wonder beats all comers and travels ever closer to Germany and freedom.

But, Major Nicolaieff recognises the playing style in losing to the machine and realises that the clock-work grand master hides a secret. He persuades their host, King Stanislas, to send the Turk to the Empress in St Petersburg… out of the frying pan… and into a no-win scenario for, not only does Nicolaieff now the secret, Catherine has an even bigger secret about Sophie which could completely undermine the fight for Poland… the pace changes but the strange atmospheric and claustrophobia of the last hour, make for thrilling denouement.

Blanchar and Dullin

There was indeed a mechanical chess player known as The Turk who defeated almost all opponents from 1770 to 1854 and baffled the best minds of Europe including Napoleon Bonaparte (not to mention Benjamin Franklin). Remarkably it was only “exposed” in the 1820s... some trick but it wasn’t in Poland and Russia.

Combining the two stories together makes for a unique blend and it worked so well with the full-blooded sound of the orchestra in the Teatro’s precision crafted acoustic space. Mark Fitz-Gerald conducted and deserved every bow in this most heated finale!

In Old Kentucky (1927) with Philip Carli

Our last John M. Stahl movie provided far gentler fare and was the rare opportunity of seeing James Murray not in The Crowd, although he was in several crowds and called on to do his trademark man-at-the-edge-of-his-tether routine. This film presumable happened after The Crowd – if the stories of Vidor’s discovery of the actor are true and probably Stahl’s use of Murray would confirm the chronology given his character arc.

Murray plays Jimmy Brierly the son of a long line of proud and successful Brierly’s (Edward Martindel) whom have made themselves rich through horse breeding and racing. Murray’s girl is Nancy (Helene Costello) and both seem well-adjusted kids… But when Jimmy gets called off to the Great War, things are about to change.

He returns a shell of the man he was before, drinking and unable to function let alone live up to father’s expectations. His relationship with both sweetheart and family breaks down and he walks away just as his father’s financial difficulties threaten the family’s future. But – you’ve seen this coming haven’t you… there’s always a chance at redemption if you happen to find your old thoroughbred in a army horse sale and the horse, who performed so valiantly with Jimmy in the tranches, is a “mudder”… the day of the big, make or break race approaches and it’s a dry sunny day… if only it would rain, the old nag would have a chance?!

The film features a number of actual black actors which is always a good thing to see although there’s a lead character in black face… still, this must have been progress. The film ends with Highpockets (Stepin Fetchit… real name Lincoln Perry) agreeing to marry Lily May (Carolynne Snowden) and as the two embrace, he picks her pocket… what a rogue! Snowdon especially performs well and does the right thing for her “employers” … she deserves more than being the comic relief and Stahl does allow her character through to the drama.

The Vengeance du Sergent de Ville (1913)

 Desmet Collection Discoveries, with Nick Sosin

The next generation got the chance to shine with Donald’s son Nick Sosin performing experimental and humorous accompaniment to a series of shorts.

I especially liked The Two Little Boys Next Door (1911) was a British short with the titular lads being very naughty indeed in battling their neighbours to Nick’s quirky accompaniment of hi-register scatt and ukulele.

Also good was Mes Voisins Font Danser (1908) featured the attempts of Max Linder to get some rest avec une malle du tete! There’s a choir rehearsing upstairs and they respond to his request to “turn that noise down” by starting to dance, so much so that, naturally the roof caves in. It’s comedy chaos but it’s also The Master, as Charlie called him, being masterly.

Louis Feuillade’s The Vengeance du Sergent de Ville (1913) was also a hoot as the policeman in question is a noisy neighbour, playing his horn far too load and forcing the other tenants to try stop him and resorting to slapping a paper mache model of the copper. My advice leave it out, he ain’t worth it!

The concentrated joy of these early shorts was a timely reminder of the prevalence and popularity of the short form comedy. And it was good to see at least a few this week!

So, that’s it, I’m leaving on a jet plane… DO know when I’ll be back again though! June for Bolgna and October for Pordenone and Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 38!! An excellent week and as Stephen Horne and Luigi Vitale collected the new David Gill Award for best musical collaboration – deservedly so for me  – Stephen dedicated it to all of the Giornate’s musicians, who even he is in awe of: me too and I’m not alone!

So, thank you for the music Giornate players, you have ALL brought us so much joy this week and we are loving your work.

Arrividerchi and see you all in 2019!

The music of chance… Le Giornate del Cinema Muto, Pordenone, Day Five

 

It can be no co-incidence that the occurrence of co-incidence in the films of John M. Stahl is surprisingly regular: I mean, what are the odds? Yesterday's film, Suspicious Wives, relied on multiple instances of happenstance and today’s The Song of Life (1922) did too and in a much more satisfying and purposeful way.

Anyone familiar with the novels of Paul Auster will appreciate the role of chance in driving narrative and changing lives and Stahl’s deployment of sheer luck in this film was a question of stylistic impact and not, as Deadpool might say, “lazy writing” …

Co-incidence number one, a woman leaves her husband and child on the same day as he dies in a bizarre and frighteningly realistic railway accident. The film cuts forward thirty years to show that the move from dustbowl city just did not work out for the woman, Mary Tilden (Georgia Woodthorpe in a meaty role for a 62-year old), who is now struggling to make ends meet and not string enough to work even cleaning dishes.

Gaston Glass, Georgia Woodthorpe and Grace Darmond

Co-incidence number two; Mary decides to kill herself by drinking poison, but her cat knocks the drink from her hand and it drips through to the apartment below where a struggling writer, David (Gaston Glass) sees it drip onto his paper. He rushes up stairs and seeing that she has tried to kill herself invites her downstairs for breakfast and support. His wife Aline (Grace Darmond) returns and seeing the alacrity with which the older woman cleans up decides it’s a good idea if she moves in with them whilst she goes back to work.

Co-incidence number three: David’s book is about a baby abandoned by his mother on the day his father died… yes, Mary is his mother. This may seem all too convenient, but it sets up a rich melodrama that allows for much exposition on the nature of maternal love, abandoned children – why is David a writer? – and, ultimately retribution.

It’s the best Stahl so far and features some memorable moments in the happy-ish but poor lower East-side streets: two adorable children playing tricks on their dad, a cheeky monkey and a roof-top street party in the heat wave. There are some super exteriors of New York too.

Gabriel Thibaudeau accompanied on the piano with sympathy and taking each shock turn in his stride.

Hildur Carlberg

The film is an unusual love triangle – OK, quadrangle – but the programmers were smart lining it up after Dreyer’s The Parson's Widow (1920) which also features the (non-romantic) love between a mother—figure and two younger lovers.

This film, Swedish title Prästänkan, is much more defined and so remarkably controlled from the high-quality cinematography to the casting of so many memorable fizzogs: no Hollywood glamour here just real people with all their quirks!

It’s as madcap as Lubitsch and Pola but gradually evolves into a touching story of love, loss and community. Einar Rød – who looks like he’s on his way to playing an in-store acoustic set at Rough Trade East – is Söfren an unlikely aspiring pastor who is motivated by the “living” and not the calling as he applies for the vacant position. His sweetheart is Mari (Greta Almroth) and the two are banking on his winning the position.

Einar gets the gig but on one condition, the local law has it that the previous pastor’s widow can marry the successful candidate… This is when Hildur Carlberg makes her entrance as Margarete Pedersdotter and it is the most fascinating of castings, as with Stahl, another rich role for an older actor. Hildur is superb, scowling one minute and sardonic the next, making short work of Söfren’s blatant ambition and seemingly casting him under a spell. The two are wed and Mari comes to work at the parsonage as Söfren’s sister… Margarete sees this coming and blocks the two at every turn with her two faithful old retainers. It’s a good film for the older actors in general!

There were three people in the marriage...

It’s slapstick and subtle especially when Söfren dresses up as a demon to scare his wife to death… she wipes the floor with him as he raises his arms to show his slippers under the white sheet.

One of the very best films of the week and all the more so for John Sweeney’s continued revelries on the Teatro Verdi’s Fazioli piano.

Onto the afternoon and another film from a Balzac novel, the German Liebe (Histoire des treize) (1927), directed by Paul Czinner and starring his partner Elisabeth Bergner as the beguiling Antoinette de Langeais, a role previously played by Lyda Borelli and Norma Talmadge (The Eternal Flame (1922)) but here recreated more in line with the original story arc. Antoinette is unhappily married but will not allow any of her flirtations to develop, much to the frustration of the Marquis de Montriveau (Hans Rehmann) and, some of the watching audience…

Elisabeth Bergner and Hans Rehmann

Bergner is highly impressive in a series of sumptuous gowns and is a very nuanced performer on a par with the afore-mentioned on this evidence. The Marquis hatches a plan to teach her a lesson and you can understand why…

Günter Buchwald accompanied with grace and piano-patience.

The evening saw another orchestral treat with a screening of Mario Bonnard’s The Sposi Promises (1922) with the New Chamber Orchestra Ferruccio Busoni with Naonis Orchestra, conducted by Massimo Belli, performing Valter Sivilotti score.

I knew nothing about this film, which is always the delight of this silent shindig and it was… spettacolare! At first it looked like it was going to be a quirky rural comedy but by the end we had witnessed revolution, bread riots, invasion, massed battles, plague and some wild headgear.

Bonnard handles the epic and the intimate with equal skill and his quick cuts, tracking shots and framing is so consistent and compelling for a story that packs so much in. Sleep-deprived and a little bit groggy on Day Five, I was entertained enough to mouth “shhhh” in Italian to some chattering young Italians beside me (like they cared). When in Pordenone…

One Wedding and a Thousand Funerals

The restoration is sparkling and Valter Sivilotti’s score spirited and sympathetic: the best accompaniments always follow the film’s lead and have the confidence to run alongside with their own expression of the narrative. This was a huge deal for the Italians and Valter took his chance with the élan of Francesco Totti!

Bonnard adapted the classic novel by Alessandro Manzoni (1827) which is set in northern Italy in 1628, during the oppressive years of direct Spanish rule and the Milan plague of 1630, wikiparently the most widely read book in Italian history?

It’s an assault of characters and events but you soon get with the rhythm of a story based around the two lovers Lucia (Emilia Vidali) and Renzo (Domenico Serra – possibly a distant relative of Mike Myers?) who are forced apart by cruel nobility and feckless priests. It’s a lot of plot but in summary: One Wedding and a Thousand Funerals.

The cinematography of Giuseppe-Paolo Vitrotti is worthy of mention especially the aerial tracking on the baddy Don Rodrigo’s opulent dining table – I’ve seen this shot before but later (Dwan, Lubitsch?) and it sets the scene beautifully as the Spaniards revel in their ill-gotten opulence!

At the end you want to watch it all again which is handy as upstairs at the Teatro they’re selling the DVD edition published by the Fondazione Cineteca Italiana! There are mugs and t-shirts, but this will be my most Italian souvenir of Le Giornate 37!

Every day is like Sunday… Honest presidents, Red Hotels, wind and mountains. Pordenone Day Two

And so, the festival begins properly on day two with a mild hangover, sleep depravation and the unreasoned compulsion that it is vital to see everything.

We also started off with The Three Tenors of British silent film accompaniment: Brand, Horne and Sweeney and all three swung like jazz-age musketeers on the Verdi’s sensational piano: a reminder of the strength in depth and sheer variety of playing from the leading accompanists.

John Sweeney accompanied the first two sections of the John M. Stahl’s The Lincoln Cycle an extraordinary concept involving an American president who aims to only tell the truth and to be always keeping his promises? This speculative fiction started off with My Mother and My Father (both 1917); both are in superb quality and are very effective docudrama. The second was more exciting than the first – Lincoln’ mother dies – and featured a flashback illustrating Honest Abe’s long history of staying true to his word.

L'Auberge Rouge (The red hotel) (1923) followed with Stephen Horne on accompaniment.

Jean Epstein generates tremendous atmosphere with this tale of the, fairly, unexpected. It’s a darker than Poe mystery play in which a cold case is gradually resolved at a dinner party at which the murderer, completely unsuspecting, hears a traveller’s tale that implicates him after so many long years of evasion.

There’s quite stunning use of a hand-held camera as it roams around the dining room table over the candles and straight into fear-filled eyes as the story unfolds. This creates a claustrophobia to which is added the almost magic realism of the flash backs… a rain sodden inn, packed with people, furtive glances and everyone playing some kind of part. Even the servant at the dinner party looks like she’s involved… impressive attention to details that rewards the viewer with a greater concision than some of today’s other directors.

Gina Maines eyes are one of the main special effects deployed but she’s not alone in a striking and very effective cast.

Stephen Horne takes these supernatural elements in his stride and embellished Epstein with his unconventional explorations beyond the keyboards.

The first feature film in the John M. Stahl strand was Sowing the Wind (US 1921), a restored version from MoMA, screened on 35mm with accompaniment from Neil Brand.

An interesting if overlong tale of the moral double-think of 1920’s society, the film featured some out-right feminist intertitles as a grumpy rich man discovers to his cost that women are not just playthings. Women are treated poorly as male entertainment and despite being worshiped at clubs, they are then not being considered worthy of being married: even their daughters. Of course, this logic has to come a cropper at some point and the full soul-searing hypocrisy is only realised when it happens to one of the grey old men spouting the most vociferously about women’s’ place.

Stahl’s direction is slow and occasionally he mistimes reactions shots but the lead actors are watchable enough if a little wooden in some cases. Anita Stewart is very photogenic but she doesn’t always convince and neither did her romantic lead, Josef Swickard leaving the older supporting actors to do most of the dramatic heavy lifting.

Neil Brand accompanied and matched Stahl’s off beats with practiced precision clearly enjoying himself thoroughly on the Teatro Verdi’s splendid Fazioli piano and making light of the director’s uneven pacing.

Luis Trenker holds on

I’d seen Mario Bonnard’s stunning Der Kampf ums Matterhorn (The Great Conquest) (1928) in Berlin and once again was knocked out by the rugged scenery and the bravery involved in the technicalities of filming it. We flew over the Alps on the way out, the peaks little different from the clouds and here again was Bonnard taking our minds higher than expected in this tale supposedly based on actual events and the novel they inspired by Carl Haensel. It’s men of granite versus taller, harder rockfaces and a lot of fun!

Maud Nelissen accompanied and found the awe amongst the high peaks of drama with some dramatic sparse scoring matching the spaces of those hypnotic peaks and emphatic changes in density matching the action on the slopes.

In between these mighty main features, the Festival’s strand on advertising is proving highly amusing and that the more things change the more they get advertised the same: benefits, value propositions and brand building is classic work.

Ewald A. Dupont’s Das Alte Gesetz (The Ancient Law) (1923) was another film I’d already seen and this time featured accompaniment: Alicia Svigals (violin), Donald Sosin (piano), Romano Todesco (accordion) and Frank Bockius (drums). Details of my original viewing here.

James Cruze’s The Mating Call (1928) closed out the day as part of the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of Kevin Brownlow’s The Parade’s Gone By. It’s a fun film featuring the always excellent Thomas Meighan, the under-rated Evelyn Brent (originally-named Betty Riggs) and rather a lot of Renée Adorée who does what we call in the trade a “Hedy Lamarr” … My previous post is here.

Neil Brand accompanied and kept his eyes fixed on the keyboard.

And that’s Sunday, one day closer to what they’re already calling Jenny Hasselqvist Tuesday*!

*Well, I am…