The home fires, burning… Blighty (1927), BFI with Costas Fotopoulos

A film about the Great War that doesn’t feature any battlefield action, Blighty was originally to be called Apres le Guerre which more accurately reflects the intended audience than the action. It’s pretty much all about the Home Front and is a like a silent-WWI version of a Family At War.

In his introduction, King’s College’s Dr Lawrence Napper, author of The Great War in British Cinema of the 1920s*, explained that the war had been a subject for the British film industry pretty much from the Armistice and far from films such as Blighty being considered “anti-war” they were plugging into the mind-set of audiences who having experienced loss were all aware of the horrors of war yet were proud of the contribution they had made to peace. Films re-enacting battles like Walter Summers’ Battles of the Coronel and Falklands Islands (1927), Mons (1926) and Ypres (1925) as well as AV Bramble’s Zeebrugge (1924) (recently screened in Portsmouth on 28^th September**) were popular as indeed was this one which was being screened as part of the BFI’s World War One: Regenerations strand.

Directed by Adrian Brunel, Blighty focuses on the experience of the Villiers family who live in a well-upholstered Georgian pile in Park Lane and are so loaded they can even afford to have Jameson Thomas as a chauffeur. It’s interesting, that despite Mr Thomas’ best efforts this film is uplifted by the performances of the three main female actors.

Alright you 'orrible lot!

Nadia Sibirskaïa films are as rare as hen’s teeth and I’ve seen two in the last few days with this and the marvellous Au Bonheur des Dames. Best known for the extraordinary visual experiments of Menimentant she’s a fascinating player to add to the mix on this very British film. She has a febrile visage and features that quiver with emotion in an expressionistic and natural way instantly drawing the eye and the sympathy. Here she plays a refugee in France who meets, falls in love with, marries and has a child with the Villiers’ only son Robin (Godfrey Winn – a fascinating character in himself).

Robin starts the film off at university in old Heidelberg with lots of German friends all of whom enjoy a healthy duel as part of their studies. Robin is hearty enough to join in the fun but his first duel is called off as news breaks of the Russians mobilising after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand – those scars of honour will have to wait for the real thing.

The film recreates the assassination and features extensive footage from newsreels all of which would have felt as raw to the audience as images of 9/11 or 7/7. This mix of real and the imagined connected with audience sentiment whereas in 2017 people are complaining about the use of actual BBC reporters in the drama series The Bodyguard. It’s not so much that we’ve gone soft just that we don’t have the experience of suffering loss on this scale.

Lil and some bloke (Jameson T...)

Robin’s sister Ann is played by the remarkable Lillian Hall-Davis who brings her own emotional power to the screen with subtlety, utter control and the star power of a souped-up Keira Knightly. When Robin returns home to say that he has enlisted she hides her response in ways that leaves you in no doubt of the fear and quiet desperation just beneath the surface. She’s also concerned for chauffeur David Marshall although a number of experts doubted his suitability…

Sir Francis Villiers is played by Annesley Healey and his wife by Ellaline Terriss, the third of the terrific leading ladies (literally in her character’s case). She has perhaps the toughest role, carryong the pressure of playing the mother of a soldier, to be watched by thousands who had experienced the same anxieties and, ultimately, the same loss. It’s a role she carries with care and respect and she is so powerful.

These women are the emotional heart of a narrative that occasionally telegraphs its moves but, sadly, that was the reality of a situation in which men went off to war and lost their health or their lives.

The lack of gunfighting only serves to strengthen the unreality of the daily dread and the stabs of happiness that punctuate the fear only serve to heighten the tension and the sure knowledge that tragedy is only a telegram away… The audience had been there, felt that and wanted the comfort that this had not been in vain and that the future was positively underway.

Godfrey Winn and Jameson Thomas put it there!

Blighty does not disappoint in that respect and pays fair dues to the women who fought an agonising war of wait and see; keeping the home fires burning as brightly as they could.

Costas Fotopoulos marched along in spirited fashion on piano occasionally racing ahead of a narrative that struck most effectively in undemonstrative silence.

Further details of the other screenings in the BFI’s World War One: Regenerations programme are on the website.

*Dr Lawrence Napper’s The Great War in British Cinema of the 1920s is available from Amazon and all good bookstores.

**My post on the screening of Maurice Elevy’s epic Nelson (1918) and Zeebrugge (1924) at Number 6, Portsmouth is available here.

Oh, brother where goest thou...? Quo Vadis? (1924)

“It fell to Emil Jannings… to depict Nero as a flabby, fatuous, fawning, driveling coward, eager to burst into song and gullible enough to drink in the lying praise of some of the sycophants that gazed into his fishy eyes and noted his loose mouth, his swollen nether lip and his heavy features.”

Mordaunt Hall, New York Times 16^th February 1925

Henryk Sienkiewicz’s 1895 novel, Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero, contributed to his award of the Nobel Prize for literature and fired the imagination of early film makers with its potent mix of epic cruelty, romantic and religious redemption. The author sold the film rights to Enrico Guazzoni in 1912 and the resultant film was one of the proto-epics to beat nearly all others, massive in scale and emotional sweep.

Over a decade later, this Italian German co-production followed on with a cast of thousands, gigantic sets (real and constructed) and the combined star power of Lillian Hall-Davis’ emotional micro-management and Emil Jannings’ protean excess. Larger than life and twice as tiring, his Nero offers Lillian’s frail Licia the world and we cower behind her in the darkness as her faith rises up as the only defence against the monstrous ego of the man who is Empire.

Lillian Hall-Davis

It is a story older than the seven hills and one that operates on levels which resonate today and almost certainly tomorrow… Mad authority blaming ideological insurgents for domestic ills and demonising the non-conformant element as a way of shoring up their own position. 

Tacitus, a secondary source in this instance, is the only one who links the persecution of the Christians directly to the Great Fire of 64AD whilst most implicate the Emperor in the fire although this is also open to debate. As for Nero playing the lyre along to the conflagration, well, it seems fanciful to say the least… infamy, infamy… they’ve all got it in for him. Nero is a mad man for all seasons, a strong leader weakened by vanity who treats life like cheap wine, never crying over spilt blood as he tosses his people casually into the treacherous waters of his seemingly tranquil royal gardens. Eels consume the unfortunates and the fattened fish are his favourite food at banquets, as he grows fat on the product of his cruelty.

You can see the appeal for pre-Great War audiences and no less for those in the early twenties when Germany was still treating potential tyrants as amusing upstarts even after Il Duce had already been established as Italian Prime Minister. No one ever thinks it can happen again do they?

But, whatever happens in affairs of state, love conquers all and this story is about resistance of the heart as well as the soul… Thus Vittelius (Alfons Fryland) learns to both respect and love Licia after having her shipped from her adoptive parents to Nero’s court and then attempting to go straight past “Go” at Nero’s bacchanal only to be re-buffed. Christianity is a civilising force as well as an empowering one.

The1912 film may be more static – tableau style – but it has more urgency and this one feels very much held back by over cautious direction from Gabriellino D'Annunzio (who never directed another film) and his German “minder” Georg Jacoby (who did). Together they produced a film that features many fine moments that are somewhat diluted by the drawn-out narrative in between.

Emil Jannings

From the get-go Quo Vadis? is a contrast in styles between Emil and Lillian – not to mention the rest of the cast. More than the 1912 version and subsequent adaptations – not to mention the similar-in-storyline Sign of the Cross - this is very much Nero’s story and Jannings is the man for the job, setting a grotesquely high bar for Charles Laughton and all of the Nero’s to follow. It’s a fascinating study in unpleasantness and threatens to overpower all around him.

Lillian is steadfast in her blonde wig and whilst not quite looking First Century does carry the compassion and care that her emperor lacks even though Mordaunt the Picker thought her sometimes “methodical in her portrayal”. Gino Viotti makes for a venal Chilone Chilonides, betraying all sides until he finally betrays himself whilst Raimondo Van Riel is a noble Tigellinus, Nero’s general who deserves better.

The statue snogger

Elsewhere familiar characters don’t always stick in the mind as much as their forebears: Rina De Liguoro excels as the statute-snogging Eunice who falls for her master, Nero’s Mandelsonian advisor Petronius (Andrea Habay) who finally reciprocates after having her flogged… not sure what the message is there?

Elena Sangro’s Poppea is regally disappointed in her Nero who only has eyes for almost everyone else, especially Licia, after she encounters their son in the garden. But once the boy has succumbed to illness he blames Licia and all those Christians who protect her.

Nero is losing his tenuous grip on the body politic and dreams of a fire-side poetry performance – which he duly arranges through Tigellinus. Not surprisingly, the citizens of Rome are up in arms and following the suggestion of the treacherous Chilone Chilonides, the Christians have to carry the can and a special entertainment is laid on at the Coliseum.

Elga Brink and uncredited actor - anyone know his name?

Surely all are doomed… but don’t bet against Domitilla (Elga Brink) in the chariot race nor the mighty Ursus (Bruto Castellani, reprising his 1913 role) in a battle to stop a bull to which the frail heroine is precariously tied…

Some of the set pieces look stunning – the chariot race for a start, along with the mass revels and the burning of Rome. I liked the juxtaposition of the Christians praying with St Peter - “There is but one God above all of the others!” - alongside the virtual orgy in the palace - “Glory to Venus! Glory to Bacchus!” - and the tension is well built towards the climax. There are so many characters, a high level of skill is required to cover the ground smoothly and our directors fall just short even if their actors don’t.

It would, of course, help to have had a clearer view – I watched the a video of a screening on Arcoiris TV – the free Italian channel – which appears to have had access only to a so-so copy – good in some parts and terrible in others. Still, at least it does exist in good quality and, if it pleases Jupiter, will be screened properly at some point.

Bruto Castellani

Raimondo Van Riel

Alfons Fryland

Elena Sangro

Andrea Habay and Emil Jannings

Gino Viotti

A mighty wind… La Proie du vent (1927)

Lillian Hall-Davis

I watched René Clair’s And Then There Were None over Easter, it’s the kind of film that works with a multi-generational audience and a gentle, detached take on one of Christie’s more… nihilistic works. François Truffaut may have dismissed later Clair as only making films for old ladies but André Bazin, founder of Cahiers, was more constructive in saying that Clair “…has remained in a way a film-maker of the silent cinema.” Which is very much the case for ATTWN… everything bad happens in shadowy silence with wordy Christie expressed succinctly with atmospherics.

Two decades before Clair produced his third feature film, La Proie du vent (The Prey of the Wind) which feels a bit like one of Agatha’s – a group of well-off people trapped in a large country pile with passions aflame, mystery and murder in the air – but which also presents as more modern that his later film. There’s more visual narrative content and the story is told through shots reflecting the players’ thoughts and mood with sparing use of inter-titles.

Timeless silent technique

Maybe Clair never quite got over the restrictions of having dialogue or maybe I watch too many silent films…? Either way La Proie du vent marks Clair’s growing confidence as a film-maker en route to his late silent/early-talkie purple patch.

Oh, and we get to see Lillian Hall-Davis’ shoulders… and more than that, one of the finest British actors of the period shows us a stillness and emotional flexibility that still sets her apart. She is timeless.

Charles Vanel and plane

Events begin in the sky as fearless aviator Pierre Vignal (Charles Vanel) soars through clouded skies before coming in to land. He’s due to fly East to establish a new route for commercial flights to Russia but has to postpone when a newspaper reveals trouble in the Balkans.

We switch to the prisons of Libanie where a daughter, Hélène (Sandra Milowanoff),

fights for her mother’s life whilst her husband (Jean Murat) is released by the military junta. As her fellow prisoners round on her suspecting he may have sold their secrets to save his own skin, Hélène’s mother dies; Clair simply showing her crucifix slipped from her hand. Hélène puts the cross around her own neck, future very uncertain.

From mother to daughter

A year passes and Vignal finally sets out to prepare the company’s new commercial line but before he can reach the Russian border he hits a bank of huge clouds and a merciless storm that forces him to land anywhere he can. He sees only trees until a magnificent castle is revealed below, he comes into land but at the last his plane hits a statue and he crashes.

Hours later he wakes up bandaged in bed and looks across to see a beautiful woman sitting patiently by him, the Countess Catchiez (Lillian Hall-Davis) a vision of peace and hope. They are joined by her brother-in –law, the husband from the Libanie prison. 

Blown off course by the wind and crash-landing at the Castle

He discovers that he is in Styannik Castle in Slovakia. His wounds will take some time to heal but as they are so secluded he must stay until he is healed. Vignal lets his company know he will return as soon as he is able and then relaxes into his daily routine which includes daily visits from the Countess.

One day he hears the sound of hammers on wood but is assured it’s only minor repairs…

The Countess and the Pilot

Clair explains the growing romantic interest between the pair through Vignal’s interest in his ladyship’s cigarette… as she leaves the room he stares at the ash tray and the unfinished cigarette she has left. He lifts the cigarette to his mouth to smell it, to taste it and then pops it in his mouth to savour the taste – racey stuff – before promptly dropping it. Hearing her return and unable to pick it up, he puts his own cigarette in its place and, as she lifts his light into her mouth she picks up and passes back what she thinks is his… It feels almost perverse but is well observed.

Sensual cigarettes

Vignal’s feelings for the Countess grow stronger and at the same time so do his insecurities concerning the exact nature of her relationship with her sister’s husband. He says that his wife died but we saw too much of her grief and struggle to really believe that.

Getting closer?

Clair concocts another superb sequence to illustrate Vignal’s emotional storm; convinced that the Countess is having an affair with her brother-in-law, the pilot daydreams his way into her boudoir to find her undressing – those Hall-Davis shoulders revealed! She is surprised by his appearance and a scuffle follows before her supposed lover comes into the room. A gun falls to the floor but she hands it to her brother-in-law who points it at Vignal: cuckolded in his own reverie the bitter-sweet taste of seeing his love comprehensively betrayed.

The imagined room...

Clair harks back to his surrealist past in these moments but they are pure cinema that express thought through camera, cut and counter-point and do not simply rely on performance but the choreography of imagined action flowing from desire…See... that’s what a glimpse of Lillian’s shoulders (and ankles) has done to me!

Key moments in the daydream

 Meanwhile, back to the narrative…  Vignal comes to realise that he is not alone as a house guest after a visit from a surprisingly very much alive Hélène who reveals that she is being held captive by her husband, sister and the mysterious Doctor Massaski (Jim Gérald). She says that both she and Vignal are in grave danger and must find a way to escape as soon as they can.

Jean Murat

Snapped out of his dreamy funk, Vignal switches into the man of action he usually is and thus begins a desperate game to make an escape from under the noses of their urbane captors… Everybody is hiding something though, even the Countess with the dreamy eyes and yet who can Vignal really trust? Is he recovered enough to make the right choices, what exactly is the reason for Hélène’s luxuriant captivity and why is she still alive if what she knows is so potentially damaging?

Hélène comes out of hiding...

Clair’s plot is maybe not so clever as his realization but he creates an atmosphere that involves the viewer right through until the shock of the dénouement. But I can say no more…

La Proie du vent might not be amongst the very best of Clair but it is a really enjoyable film all the same with substantial performances from the small ensemble led of course by the divine Lillian. As a lapsing Surrealist, Clair has something to say about the male instinct with his adventurer all too willing to play the lover or the rescuer of women and there’s an element of self-deception in both: which cigarette do you chose Pierre? We’re all prey to our emotional storms from time to time.

On the run

The cinematography is superb and Clair uses and array of cross-cuts, overlays and montage to reveal his characterizations and mood. But it’s his choice of action that can be the most impressive with a shot showing Hélène and her husband trying to embrace through the tiny window of her prison cell among the most moving.

The version I watched was the 2009 restoration which comes complete with a specially-written score from Ibrahim Maalouf who plays it with a quintet of himself on trumpet, Mark Turner on tenor saxophone, Larry Grenadier on double bass, Clarence Penn on drums and Frank Woeste on piano.

These are jazz songs involving the feel of Miles Davis and which run intermittently along with the narrative. It’s mournfully impressive and whilst occasionally running over the action it works well in matching the overall mood. The soundtrack CD, called simply Wind, is available for download from eMusic or as a CD fromAmazon – likeable as a stand-alone experience. I’m playing my copy as I write!

Annoyingly, the film itseld doesn’t seem to be currently available on commercially and I am indebted to my friend Sandy in Paris for showing me her copy recorded off the television. Surely time for a box set along with Un chapeau de paille d'Italie and Les Deux Timides eh Lobster?