Pen-Ultima Thule – The Edge of the World (1937 cut), Birkbeck College

“Edge of the World was entirely saved for me by the editor (Derek Twist) … I mean, Flaherty with no story – at least I had the semblance of a story – took about six months to cut Man of Aran, and then it wasn’t any good…”

Michael Powell, Powell, Pressburger and Others (1978) BFI

The last few decades have seen a bonanza of different mixes, demos and alternate cuts of the output of the most familiar musicians from The Beatles and The Stones to even JS Bach, Erik Satie and Taylor Swift (not together…). Each new variation fascinates and paints a picture of the artists on route to their eventual well-known statements, the elements of Strawberry Fields Forever are interesting because they sound so different to the magical mix created by George Martin and his “Boys” and they show how decisions were reached in search of the perfected final version.

So it is with film, with a boom in “Limited Editions” featuring different cuts of even the most esoteric of films. Getting to see a different version of a classic film some of us have seen dozens of times is pretty rare though and to see Michael Powell’s first major “personal” cinematic statement in a form not seen since its original release in 1937 is not only rare it’s almost certainly unique and it happened again on screen right here on 8^th July 2025 in Birkbeck Institute for the Moving Image Cinema a lifetime after it was last seen in this form.

How there came to be a copy of this Mark I release of the film is a story of its own and owes everything to conversations between passionate cineastes one of whom, Bob Geoghegan, Director of the Archive Film Agency and a man of many parts, knew he had a copy of the film safely stored on 35mm nitrate but not the exact age. SO it was that investigation revealed it to be a print from the year of release and one that was different from that we know in significant ways. He duly created a digital transfer from these materials for projection at this event.

Inspired by the evacuation of the Island of St Kilda a few years before, The Edge of the World has been recently restored by the BFI and I’d last seen this at Bologna in 2023 but this was something else entirely as Christopher Bird explained in his introduction to a room full of the very people you’d usually find in Il Cinema Ritrovato, some who’d come a long way for this rarity. Chris had scrupulously prepared a shot-by-shot comparison video for four key moments from the films, showing us three before revealing the fourth a very important moment from the ending shot which I won’t spoil.

Technically, Michael Powell is a much better filmmaker than Robert J Flaherty...

The video ran the two versions side by side and it was easy to see the gaps in the restored version against the fuller shots on this 1937 version. For whatever reason – and this is where the historians come in and dig deeper than the primary evidence – Powell re-edited the film in the 1940s no doubt when he had more success and clout behind him so that the version we have been watching all of lives is what he wanted us to watch some eight (?) years after it was first released. As he said in the quote at the top, Derek Twist brought this production home with Powell struggling with a limited budget and, after St Kilda’s owner refused, a last-minute change of location to the island of Foula across the North Sea to Shetland.

In general, the newly-revealed film showed more of the reaction shots to discussions between the main characters filling out the narrative and engaging us with more of the wonderful locals who we would see again when Master of Ceremonies, Professor Ian Christie, screened Return to the Edge of the World a BBC-funded documentary returning Powell, John Laurie and Grant Sutherland back to the remains of the society they filmed amongst. It’s a wonderful film and Laurie is full of mischief with a mystical twinkle greeting every islander who’s name he feigns to have remembered. A special time for both.

I’ve written about this film a number of times before on here but every viewing only makes it more impressive – not least because of the three or so “new” minutes but also the achievement of Powell’s team in making of the film was an epic adventure in itself. "200,000 feet on Foula" was Powell's original title for his book on the making of the film and references the immense amount of footage shot… thanks be to Mr Twist again!

Powell and drama-documentarist Robert Flaherty did not get on and their methods were so different with the Englishman choosing to use actual actors for his depiction of disappearing cultures. In the end the skill of the story making as well as the players and crew win the day for Foula. EOTW is about as political as Powell gets as he highlights the failure of government to support the islanders as they drown their dogs and cut their losses in the saddest of circumstances. I wonder what happened to the folk of St Kilda, Rachel Johnson, the last of the native St Kildans, died in April 2016 at the age of 93, having been evacuated at the age of eight… what stories did she and other tell of their traumatic changes? Powell caught the dramatic truth better than his rival over on the Irish Aran.

Christie and co also presented us with some fabulous extras including Smith (1939) a public information film promoting a charity helping ex-servicemen, The Embankment Fellowship Centre, which was once lost not just to film archives but also film history. This was introduced by the remarkable Mark Fuller who’d actually found the only remaining copy by tracking down the charity - now called The Ex-Service Fellowship Centres - who revealed that they not only have materials about the project but also a copy of the film! They are now called Veterans Aid and the film is available to view on their website.

We also saw the poignant, An Airman's Letter to His Mother (1941) which is so revealing of the times in which Powell made films and the nature of lived experience during wartime.

My thanks to the following:

• Christopher Bird
• Ian Christie
• Mark Fuller
• Bob Geoghegan

And also the audience of some of the most cinematically curious people in the country and, indeed, in the town!

The next event at the BIMI is Voices from the Chorus presented by Ian and Robert Denning. Full details are available on the Birkbeck website.

The Chaplin Touch… A Woman of Paris (1923), BFI with Mark Fuller, Cinema Unbound

Hollywood had been taught a new and sophisticated attitude to sexual relations by, of all people, Charlie Chaplin in a Woman of Paris…

Michael Powell, A Life in Movies

 

There was a moment when Edna Purviance’s character Marie St Clair, is being visited by her former love Jean Millet (Carl Miller) to discuss his painting her portrait. She’s seemingly done well for herself but as one of her maids opens a draw to fold away her washing, a man’s shirt cuff falls to the floor and catches the eye of Jean who notes as does the audience, the significance of such familiarity with a man’s wardrobe. It’s the economy of the moment and Chaplin’s cinematic intelligence that catches our attention now as we sit and do the maths for subsequent releases such as Lubitsch’s The Marriage Circle (1924) or Three Women (1924) and Monte Bell’s Lady of the Night (1925).

But we weren’t here to discuss the influence of Chaplin on his contemporaries but the impact of this film on an 18-year-old Michael Powell who at this point was just a regular cinema- loving bank clerk based in respectable Ringwood, Hampshire as Archers expert Mark Fuller explained in his informed introduction. I would say that Mark has forgotten more about Powell and Pressburger than most remember if not for the fact that I don’t think he forgets any details of these two. His diligence and thirst for knowledge led him to the rediscovery of Smith (1939) a short film Powell made to promote the Embankment Fellowship Centre with Ralph Richardson (and Wally Patch!).

"... using objects for their metaphoric and metonymic value..."*

Years later, interviewed by Kevin Brownlow in an unpublished article for Time Out, Powell recalled how he was collecting everything in a “romantic sort of way… and I looked on films the way that people did then, as a wonderful new plaything, but not serious…”. Then he saw A Woman of Paris, in either the Boscombe Hippodrome of Boscombe Cinema near Bournemouth, and “I was absolutely knocked by it, because suddenly the whole medium grew up.”

For Powell, Chaplin a clown with “all the power in the world”, had not only made a “grown-up” film, he’d done it out of pure love and loyalty for his long-time on-screen partner Edna Purviance, who was given the prominence you would expect of an Italian diva or a Pickford, Gish or Talmadge in a project with something of his innocence but also sense of tragedy based on the worldview you could expect of a man who grew up in the poorhouse. Charlie and Edna had also been romantic partners until his marriage to Mildred Harris but they remained firm friends and he supported her throughout her life.

The film was not a smash hit – perhaps Powell suggested, it was not just realistic but too realistic – but he felt more modern viewers should be made aware of it and the influence it had on the cinematic language of the twenties and beyond. Modesty would have forbidden but we certainly watched this film with fresh eyes after learning of its impact on Powell himself. Props to the BFI for including it in the Cinema Unbound programme and to bringing in Mr Fuller to explain the connection.

Adolphe Menjou and Edna Purviance

Charlie Chaplin not only wrote, produced and directed the film by 1976, he had even written the music for it which today we heard on a recording conducted by Timothy Brock. I must admit that I don’t always like Chaplin’s score but this one, possibly because if was for Edna, rang so true to the narrative and was like an audio commentary on his intent from the 87-year-old to his 34-year-old self. It was the last of his films he scored and it was to be his final completed work.

Chaplin was frustrated by the reaction to the film and it’s a shame for Edna that it didn’t raise her profile in the way it did for Adolphe Menjou who was to feature in Lubitsch’s The Marriage Circle and many more. Edna is superb though and in addition to wearing some fabulous costumes that would have graced a Borelli or a Boardman, gives such a nuanced and commanding dramatic performance. Her timing is, of course, perfect and whilst Chaplin’s comedies had always required dramatic chops, here she’s inverted her usual performance with some controlled comedic touches mixed with a dominant and thoroughly convincing lead performance as a woman torn between two lives and loves.

There are Germanic touches in the sets and lighting and the film feels almost more European than American but what would you expect from a boy from Kennington. But the themes and the timing – sometimes comic and otherwise tragic – are all his own.

Edna looks nervously towards the future

The film opens with a bravura shot of a small house in a French village with the enclosing camera gradually revealing the figure of a young woman staring with concern from her bedroom window. The young woman, Marie St Clair (Purviance) nervously packs her bags in her room and as her father creeps up the stairs and locks her door, Chaplin gradually reveals the scenario: an elopement is being planned and both sets of parents disagree.

Marie’s lover Jean Millet (Carl Miller) helps her climb down from outside her room and they walk to his house where an equally frosty reception awaits. What has caused this parental disapproval is not made clear but it’s deep-seated. Refused entry back home, the couple head for the station to catch a train to Paris: their city of hope. Jean leaves Marie to go and collect his things but, tragedy strikes when his father has a heart attack and dies. A fateful miss-communication then occurs as the lovers telephone each other and Marie, thinking than Jean has just got cold feet, heads off to Paris alone.

A year later she seems to have found her feet exceptionally well, being the kept woman of Pierre Revel (Menjou), “the most eligible bachelor in Paris”, living in luxury and spending her time socialising or being prepared for the next occasion along with her proto-flapper buddies Fifi (Betty Morrissey) and Paulette (Malvina Polo). Everything is well except for the fact that Pierre is planning to marry the wealthiest spinster in Paris. The story is revealed in the papers but Marie doesn’t know until her helpful friends show her, she hides her disappointment well: she’s learned a great deal of city ways. Pierre tells her that it won’t change their relationship but she’s not convinced.

Parisians un-winding...

She sulks and stays in whilst her friends head off to an outrageous party in the Latin Quarter… Chaplin gives a good party and clearly enjoys showing the risqué side of life as the drunken debauch is topped off by an elegant striptease in which a young woman (Bess Flowers - sometimes dubbed the Queen of the Hollywood Extras) is gradually revealed to the on-screen audience as a white sheet is slowly unwrapped: glasses and monocles are raised even by the women and a drunken man faints in dis-belief.

Fifi tells Maria she can’t miss out and she heads over only to open the door to the wrong address, a small apartment home to a struggling artist: it’s Jean. So, chance has re-united them and whilst their guards are now up, Marie invites Jean to paint her. As Jean arrives wide-eyed at her opulent home Marie finds out with a shock the reason for his none-appearance and her sympathy shifts back but there can be no simple reconciliation especially when Marie sneaks at peek at her portrait and, rather than paint her in the stunning satin gown she has chosen, Jean depicts her as she was when he left her. This can’t be healthy and it’s a very neat touch from the director.

Carl Miller

But as romance is re-kindled, parental dissatisfaction again plays a part as Jean’s mother – disapproving of Marie’s lifestyle – makes him promise not to marry her and he agrees only for Marie to overhear at the door… The course of true love never runs smooth and in real life second chances are few yet Chaplin’s players are compelled to try and there’s a very elegant mess building that he plays out as well as in any of his comedies. The relationship between Marie and Pierre is especially well handled, so many then transgressive aspects left unsaid but the full meaning conferred perfectly by these two wonderful players.

Ultimately the film stands as testimony to Chaplin’s enduring qualities as an instinctive and innovative filmmaker as well as to his loyalty and influence. It should also ensure that Edna Purviance’s reputation remains as simply one of the finest screen actors of the period: not just a "straight guy" or a foil but the emotional foundation on which he built some of his finest work. As for Mr Powell, we can see the inspiration he took from this work and the role Chaplin had in inspiring his fellow Englishman: a daisy chain of genius.

Powell loved this simple intertitle as Pierre laughs at Marie's frustration: a perfect moment...

Edna abides...

*Chaplin: Genius of the Cinema (2003), Jeffrey Vance,  New York: Harry N. Abrams.