Showing posts with label Mary Astor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary Astor. Show all posts

Saturday, 3 October 2026

Action men… Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 2026, Day One


 

Doug has never leaped so high… He's perpetual youth, a three-ringed circus, the personification of all juvenile heroes, all rolled into one…

W. Ward Marsh, Cleveland Plain Dealer 19th October 1925


After a couple of days in Venice I spent my final night in a secure Air BnB near Venice Mestre Station. I say secure because it had a lock for the entry gate – a six-feet plus metal fence – then three locks between the outside and a room with a TV streaming late 70s Charlie’s Angels dubbed in Italian. When you leave, just drop the keys on the desk, said the guy and so I did, assuming there was a button on the fearsome metal gate to open it. There wasn’t and so, taking my life, cabin bag and laptop in hand, I scaled the fence and dropped myself quite stylishly onto the ground on the other side – it was a little further than I expected (this is not a Stunt Blog). It’s not easy bouncing around and climbing to escape a trap. But, as I was reminded several hours later in the Teatro Verdi, Douglas Fairbanks made it look easier than pretty much anyone ever on film. He loved it.


Day One and for sure, not Don Juan but, yes, Don Q – Son of Zorro - and a Fairbanks’ blockbuster I’ve never seen complete with a huge new score from Slovenska kinoteka given voice by the gathered might of the RTV Slovenia Symphony Orchestra as conducted by Andrej Goričar. If these films are familiar, it’s probably because of the influence Fairbanks had on popular culture and in particular, comics and the kind of books on sale alongside them. It’s all of a piece with Batman – still 13 years in the future – Flash Gordon, Doc Savage – Man of Bronze, along with earlier creations like Tarzan and John Carter of Mars from the, actually swashbuckling, Edgar Rice Burroughs. Superman was designed by Siegel and Shuster to look like Fairbanks* whilst the creator of the Marvelverse, Stan Lee both admired and imitated Fairbanks.


What all these characters have in common – including Stan - is a super-sense of positivity as well as strength, righteousness and charm and these were of course, everything that Doug brought to the screen both by instinct and design. He was the epitome of masculine purpose and verve at a time when such things were clearly defined and viewed as a good… whereas I am currently reading Jon Ronson’s The Castle: Adventures in a World of Unravelling Men and we need a hero.


Mary Astor and Douglas Fairbanks


101 years on, Doug was once again our man as Don Cesar de Vega, the son of Zorro also played by Doug plus a dusty grey wig, and a little padding round his middle. Doug is really trim in this film and that’s evidenced by high-waisted trousers that make him look more lithe than stocky or maybe he’d just worked too hard on the leaping around. There are incessant stunts that remind you of Robin Hood, Bagdad or Zorro, but that’s the deal with Doug – 42 at the time. He’s sent from Cali to Spain as his father before him and meets The Queen (Stella De Lanti) and visiting Archduke (Warner Oland) as he saves a crowd from an escaped bull. He makes enemies with nasty Don Sebastian (Donald Crisp) as well as the scheming Don Fabrique Borusta played by Jean Hersholt who always injects an element of pathos in his villains as if they’re being made bad by unfortunate nature.


What about the love interest I hear you say, well that’s Mary Astor (just 19…) as the delightful Dolores de Muro who becomes the source of conflict between Don Cesar and Sebastian. The film gathers pace, its relentless and you know why and where it’s going. Long story short, Cesar has to fake his own death to become the masked vigilante in thigh-high leather boots and a cape. Using his trusty whip he leaves a “Q” mark on foes just like his daddy left a “Z”… Yeah, right, whatever we all applauded when the goodies emerged and it was as the comic writer Alan Moore once said “a revenge fantasy for the impotent…” only much more in on the joke than that sounds!


The Danish Film Institute have done incredible work in restoring what has for so long only been available in 16mm and what we saw tonight was the film and good-hearted masculinity restored to former glories. The gathered throng in the Verdi were uplifted, inspired and set fair for a week of vibrant entertainment and reminders from the past of eternal virtues and the sheer power of good intentions.


Money madness

Before all this we kicked off with some David Wark with the latest restorations from The Biograph Project. These films are all from eight to twelve minutes long, but Griffith always squeezes a full story in there and ones that reflect the concerns of his audience in ways that reveal much. Money Mad (US 1908) features The Root of All Evil as it lures various thieves and beggars into a fight to the finish whilst The Christmas Burglars (US 1908) was altogether more wholesome as some pawn broker and his criminal colleagues take pity in a woman and her young daughter bringing them a seasonal surprise even if they did use chloroform to make sure they slept through Santa’s visit. Mr Jones at the Ball (US 1908) showed the perils of lying to yourself and your tailor about your waist measurement as the titular gent rips his kecks** at a fancy ball.


There was a sweet moral balance to One Touch of Nature (US 1909) and its portrayal of childhood mortality that should remind everyone that those Good Old Days weren't actually that good. It's Griffith on the soppy side but it worked then and it works now. Far more unsettling, from a modern perspective was the black face and the racial joke of The Valet's Wife (US 1908) but that's what was and there was context.

Philip Carli accompanied in comfortable slacks.

 

Italy Admiral Manzini and this film in one screen grab...


The Mask and the Face (IT 1919) was very much a film of two halves featuring this year’s Diva, Italy Admiral Manzini in a story directed by Augusto Genina. Now, I’m very much a believer in the three great diva: Bertini, Menichelli and Borelli but I have to say that Manzini runs them close without quite having the grit of the first, the impact of the second or the ethereality of the third. But we shall see this week, and she was off to a very strong start.


The story was adapted by Luciano Doria from a 1916 play by Luigi Chiarelli which had been part of the “grotesque theatre” style of the time according to Andrea Meneghelli in the 2019 Il Cinema Ritrovato Festival Catalogue. There’s little of this left in the film which spends the first half establishing various couples among the rich elite around Lake Como. Manzini plays Savina who is married to the possessive and aggressive Paolo (Vittorio Rossi Pianelli). For some reason she decides that their friend Luciano (Ettore Piergiovanni) is the kind of man she needs to have an affair with even though he is engaged to Marta. (Note to self: pitch for a reality TV series, The Real Housewives of Como aka Como Shore…)


Maybe buried under this is a critique of the listless bourgeoisie but it doesn’t carry much force until Paolo, discovering that his wife is having an affair decides that she is dead to him and exiles her from his life and property. He doesn’t want to know who her lover is but, in his rush, to punish his wife, pretends he has murdered her. Now before you point out the obvious flaws in this plan, don’t worry because Luciano is going to represent him in court and, he does it so well that gets his client off if only at the expense of trashing his former lover’s reputation.


Como Shore...


Savina finds out and is, to put it mildly, pretty disappointed but then an actual body is found in the lake – a woman so badly disfigured that they “recognise her immediately…” Savine is definitely dead but she’s not really and you can really tell where this is going except you can’t and that’s exactly what makes the last part of this film so much fun!


Mauro Colombis seemed to take it all in his stride, but this was the sleeper hit of the day!


We also saw the first part of a mostly lost film Ironies of Life (IT 1917), directed by Mario Roncoroni and featuring Manzini falling in love with Gian Paolo Rosmino. What we saw looked very good and was of the standard you’d expect of Italian cinema of this period.

 

I missed the series of short films in the Lazio programme but heard good things about Rails into the Olympus of Elegance (IT 1920?). Another time…


Sorry mate the Plaça Reial's the other way...

Before Doug, we took a ride on a tram through Barcelona in 1909, and it was the most visceral thing I’d seen all day. This is part of the Giornate’s Origins/Early Cinema – Phantom Tram Rides and Barcelona en Tranvía (ES 1909) took us from the Atarazanas/Drassanes area - then the city’s waterfront fortifications - to Bonanova, in the upper part of Barcelona. As the tram travels through the Passeig de Gràcia, it heads higher into the suburbs, streets that look familiar, but I wonder how many were changed by the Civil War and modernisation.


The filmmakers, Ramón de Baños Martínez, Ricardo de Baños Martínez had announced the filming, and this brought the locals out in their thousands and the real joy of this film is in seeing people walking, running, cycling and generally larking about in front of the moving image. It was as Giornate Director, Jay Weissberg said, a pure example of cinema and one that was poignant and very human on the big screen.


Stephen Horne accompanied and, as you would expect, he caught the mood, he savoured the joy.

 

A lot of cigarettes were smoked in today's films...


*From the brilliant Silentology website.

 

**Look it up in The Oxford English-Scouse Dictionary.

 

 

 

Thursday, 11 January 2018

Oh brother… Second Fiddle (1923) with Cyrus Gabrysch, Kennington Bioscope


I’ve been fascinated with Glenn Hunter since reading the book on which his lost film, Merton of the Movies (1924) was based and having seen his performance in Second Fiddle, I can now mourn the loss of his major hit even more. Hunter is a boyish, almost sensitive presence on screen but with a good range of physical and facial expression and a gift for comic timing: seeing him in the more knockabout Merton as the titular hero attempting to make his deluded way in Hollywood would have been a treat. As with Marion Davis’ character a few years later in Show People, Merton thinks he’s serious but everyone else thinks he’s hilarious.

In Second Fiddle Glenn Hunter manages to be both despite a plot so convoluted you could pin a tail on it and call it a “wonky”. He’s great and the film is a delight, once thought lost but tonight projected from Kevin Brownlow’s 16mm Kodascope print onto the Cinema Museum’s screen with lavish accompaniment from Cyrus Gabrysch.

Directed by Frank Tuttle the film was a truly independent production filmed in Queens of all places – it looked nothing like this rural community last time I passed through.  The cinematographer, as Mr Brownlow revealed, was Fred Waller the inventor of Cinerama and he does much good work with startling close-ups, atmospheric exteriors and a clever interior shot showing Hunter peering out in fear as a murderer creeps down the stairs towards him.

Hunter is Jim, the youngest member of the Bradley family and completely overshadowed by his older brother Herbert (Townsend Martin) a college boy who is seemingly everything his mother (Mary Foy) and father (Leslie Stowe) wanted. Jim suffers from low self-esteem, to put it mildly, and hasn’t the confidence to do anything other than screw up. A self-fulfilling prophecy of his own foretelling.

Mary Astor (in her sixth film) and Glenn Hunter
Jim hasn’t the confidence to make anything of his relationship with pretty Polly Crawford (Mary Astor, then just sixteen) the daughter of the local doctor (Otto Lang, Astor’s actual father, which is good to see given her youth). Polly clearly likes the young grease monkey but he’s too nervous to respond to any signals.

Herbert’s arrival home only pushes Jim down further. He had bought a dog as a present for his brother, but the latter walks in with an elegant pedigree hound far more aspirational than the lovable mutt Jim had in mind. Jim isn’t even confident enough to feel slighted by his brother as he moves in on Polly, he just assumes he’s not as good and Herbert’s not going to disabuse him, driving off with Polly as he tries to fix her car’s exhaust. Not so nice, a nasty Herbert.

That evening the Bradley’s dance to their record player, a 78 of an Argentine Tango allowing Herbert to show his moves with Polly while Jim is left with an umbrella. The film’s funniest sequence follows as Jim daydreams a south American scene with himself as a Valentino, cape and stylish gaucho look, nostrils flared and cheeks on full suck for some hilarious shapes. Hunter has delicate features and makes Ivor Novello look stocky, but he has the protean ability to inhabit the clothes; no wonder he was so successful on stage as well.

Tangoed... Hunter, Astor, Mary Foy, Leslie Stowe and Townsend Martin
The reverie is interrupted by the arrival of the sheriff as the town’s odd-bod, Mr Cragg (William Nally, craggy faced and a genuinely fearsome presence) has murdered his own daughter (Helena Adamowska) in search for the money she has hidden away in the hope of escaping his tyranny in their old dark house.

Mr Bradley heads off with the posse leaving his boys to protect Polly and their mother. Naturally enough Cragg comes to the house in search of food and money and Herbert makes off to tell the posse leaving his brother with a shotgun he forgets to load… The moments with Cragg circling the house are genuinely unnerving and Tuttle creates considerable tension.

Cragg breaks in using the door Herbert has absent-mindedly left open and Jim checks his weapon… in shock he tries to reach for some ammunition only to alert the intruder, but he confronts him all the same, his bluff enough to get Cragg to sit down as they await the sheriff.

But, as the law heads to the rescue, Jim is unable to keep holding the gun and faints. Cragg is caught though after Herbert shoots him – by accident more than design – and safely locked up, older brother is the hero whilst Jim is crestfallen. Matters get worse when Herbert covers up his oversight by loading the gun and Jim is accused of lying.

William Nally menaces Helena Adamowska
Miserable, and thinking Polly is deserting him too, Jim plans to leave for Boston only for a series of unfortunate events to unfold in a breath-taking final sequence as Cragg escapes, Polly’s car breaks down, Herbert gets desperate and all converge on that old dark house for truth and consequences.

Cyrus Gabrysch accompanied this enjoyable romp with deft precision – our feet tapping to tango rhythms, teeth chattering for Cragg’s demonic excesses and our smiles uplifted by glorious themes for young Jim’s redemption.

Earlier in the evening we were also treated to a DW Griffith short, Fighting Blood (1911) which featured a tense shoot out between native Americans and a family trapped in a log cabin, as Kevin said, almost a dry run for Birth of a Nation. The film included an interesting overhead shot of the action possible influenced by the work of Thomas Ince. Ince supposedly directed the second film we saw, The Heart of an Indian (1912) but it was Francis Ford who also starred in red-face, the most Irish Indian you could imagine. This film was altogether more subtle on the subject of native Americans and reflected the general pattern of more sympathetic portrayals before the sound era gave way to cliché.

Poignant shot from The Heart of an Indian (1912)
Lillian Henley accompanied in style with dramatic flourish as the drama played out on piano as on screen; the standard of accompaniment is so high at the Bioscope.


A grand start to the year and another sold-out performance at the Cinema Museum: they shouldn’t shut this place down they should expand it! Demand is on the increase and if you haven’t already signedthe petition to help keep the Museum in place please follow this link and support this unique venue.

Read more about Merton of the Movies here.