That was the year that was… 2018's most silent nights

Once again the early 1900’s absolutely wiped the floor with the early 21st Century which is turning out less of a Fox than a Dog. Reality in the UK took something of a beating in 2018 but at least I had Berlin, Bologna and Pordenone with this being the year when I took to flying after a break of more than a decade to seek out more silent experiences in Europe. So, apologies if my list is more jet-set than train-set but most of these films will make it to the UK (provided we can sort out the customs arrangements…).

This blog was once described as picaresque and whilst I’ve learned so much from my “travel” I continue to find new surprises from the first 35 years of cinema and to build on impressions already made. I’ve only been a watcher of “live” silent film since April 2011 when Neil Brand and the Dodge Brothers played rip-roaring accompaniment for Brooksie in Beggars of Life, and it remains a joy to watch the archives emptied of their secrets and to see films projected and played for that have been hidden for decades.

And so, in no particular order and with apologies for all those I’ve missed off, here’s a snapshot of my favourite moments this year.

1. Sunrise (1927), Elizabeth Jane Baldry, Early Music Centre, York

I’ve waited years to see Sunrise with live accompaniment and Jonathan Best’s fantastic Yorkshire Silent Film Festival provided the perfect opportunity as I nipped over to York after a wonderful day at Sheffield’s Abbeydale Picture House. The Early Music Centre is a converted church and provided great atmosphere as well as acoustics for Ms Baldy’s gorgeous accompaniment. Murnau’s classic is the great fairy tale of the silent era and this was a special combination of sight and sound

2. Nelson (1918), Stephen Horne and Martin Pyne, Cinema No. 6, Portsmouth

Talking of the importance of place… South West Silents had the quite brilliant idea of screening Maurice Elvey’s ground-breaking biopic of Horatio Nelson in Portsmouth and all within a cannonball shot of HMS Victory herself.

Elvey filmed on Victory and this remains the only time this happened as Dr Lucie Dutton explained in her erudite introduction – a celebration of this remarkable British film and its director.  Stephen Horne and Martin Pyne illustrated the narrative with all due diligence and the old port resonated with joy on our greatest admiral’s birthday: perfect timing all round.

3. 7th Heaven (1927), with Timothy Brock, Teatro Comunale di Bologna Orchestra, Teatro Comunale di Bologna, Il Cinema Ritrovato Festival 2018

My first trip to Bologna and a feast of film and culture in one of Italy’s finest cities. We saw the restored Rosita with a full orchestra under the stars in the Piazza Maggiore but, after rain stopped play, 7th Heaven was screened at the Opera House instead and were left as high as Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell by the combination of screen, eighteenth century architecture and Timothy Brock’s sumptuous score. Wow.

4. The Great Victorian Moving Picture Show, John Sweeney and his Biograph Band, London Film Festival 2018

No other event carried more shock of the old than this year’s LFF gala in which dozens of late Victorian films – many from ultra-high grade 60-70mm negatives – were screened on the BFI’s IMAX. There was no peripheral escape from these huge memorials to our great grandparents’ age and John Sweeney’s perfectly judged score brought out the full flavour as the appropriately costumed Bryony Dixon talked us through this stunning archive.

5.  The Golden Butterfly (1926), Cyrus Gabrysch Kennington Bioscope

The Bioscope programmers leave no stone unturned in their efforts to brings us not only the rare and obscure but also the wonderful and the two Michael Curtiz (nee Manó Kertész Kaminer) films featuring the dazzling Lili Damita were amongst the highlights. This one was my favourite and I loved the combination of high-energy Lil with Cyrus Gabrysch’s quicksilver accompaniment.

6.  Christian Wahnschaffe (1919-21), with Stephen Horne, Berlinale 68

My first trip to Berlin and a chunk of the Festival’s Weimar Retrospective of which this sprawling two-parter starring the außergewöhnlich Conrad Veidt was the highlight. The second film is the best and Stephen Horne whipped up mighty storm for the intense conclusion. Herr Veidt’s fashion sense was also extraordinary; monocles, leather vest and jodhpurs are on my Christmas list.

7. Exit Smiling (1926), Meg Morley, Kennington Bioscope 2nd Silent Laughter Weekend

Thoroughly modern Beatrice Lillie gives one of the most delicious silent performances in this, her only silent film and, on this evidence alone was quite possibly “the funniest woman in the World”. Sadly, she had better things to do with her time than make too many movies but what remains dazzles especially this one when accompanied with jazz-age cool by mighty Meg Morley.

8. Arcadia (2018), Paul Wright with music from Adrian Utley and Will Gregory

Not strictly a silent film this dazzling deep-dive into the BFI archives threw up a compelling narrative about the relationship between of our connection to the land and collective purpose. It was one of the most though provoking films of the year with an excellent score from Utley and Gregory who also featured three songs from the almost mystically-talented Anne Briggs: our identity is not defined by where we are but by how we are. More natural is what we need now not the enclosure of mind, body and soul…

9. The Dumb Girl of Portici (1916), with John Sweeney, Cambridge Film Festival

Lois Weber is Director of the Year starring in Kino Lorber’s massive six-disc compilation: Pioneers – Women Film Makers (box-set must-have of the year!) and with her reputation now elevated back to where it belongs. This film was her first blockbuster and featured legendary ballerina Anna Pavlova in the title role… the film is slightly uneven and Anna’s acting isn’t near the quality of her dancing but, I loved it all especially with maestro Sweeney’s accompaniment. He’s also on the Milestone DVD too with an orchestral score: essential!

10. Captain Salvation (1927) with Philip Carli, Orchestra San Marco, Pordenone, Le Giornate del Cinema Muto

This year’s festival got off to a flier with this powerful tale of redemption and human love on the ocean waves. Philip Carli conducted the Orchestra San Marco playing his own score and they whipped up a storm as did Lars Hanson as the preacher with doubt and the underrated Pauline Starke as the fallen woman who refuses to fall any further. I’d watched the DVD before but nothing prepares you for the combination of light and life when the music is played live.

Plus…

Woman of the Year: Jenny Hasselqvist

This may surprise a lot of people… oh, alright, maybe not. Jenny’s appearance in the restoration of her first film, Mauritz Stiller’s Balettprimadonnan (1916) was properly emotional, especially when she performs on stage at Stockholm’s Royal Opera House. She was Sweden’s leading prima ballerina over the period; a miracle of connected physical and emotional expression. John Sweeney was on hand to accompany the dance.

Man of the Year: Lars Hanson

Also in the above film, Lars, Lars, Lars… was probably my most watched silent star of the year and he never disappoints; handsome and able to fight, lose and regain faith, love, drink, climb and even sail. He’s always grounded and, like so many Swedes, effortlessly convincing.

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny and Lars, Lars, Lars...

Venue of the Year: Cinema Museum

Has to be. The Cinema Museum lives on thanks to unstinting support and the Kennington Bioscope is one of its shining lights. Here’s hoping I’m saying the same thing next December as the fight to save the Museum is not quite over.

Thank you to everyone who programmed, projected, promoted and performed – see you all again in 2019!

Duty and sacrifice… Nelson (1918)/Zeebrugge (1924), Cinema No. 6 with Stephen Horne and Martin Pyne

In which silent Londoners come down to the seaport in cars, momentarily confuse HMS Warrior with Victory and enjoy a slap-up fish and chips supper between naval adventures.

My cousin Bruce is a Royal Marine, he flies helicopters and has served in Afghanistan and Iraq in his time: a lad from a South Liverpool comprehensive who is now a Colonel and even helped teach a prince how to fly. I say this not just because I’m proud of Bruce but also because it illustrates the enduring opportunities the Royal Navy has offered to people regardless of class: if you have ability you can progress as Lambert and other commentators support, it was possible to advance based on ability even in the more structured society of the late 18^th Century.

Nelson left home to join the navy partly to alleviate the financial pressures on his father as the family struggled after the death of his mother. He was just 14 and far from the finest physical specimen and he even gets invalided out at one point, but nothing can stop his eventual rise. In all of this he is encouraged by his uncle, Captain Suckling, although not to the extent of favours.

Donald Calthorpe is Nelson

This is one of many inspiration themes in Maurice Elvey’s likeable bio-picture made with in the last year of the Great War with inspiration as the aim. But whilst Nelson - or Nelson; The Story of England's Immortal Naval Hero - is certainly propaganda, it takes its facts and its audience very seriously. Nelson’s biography plays out with a minimum of gilded lilies and Elvey shows us major sea battles as forensically as possible with the aid of models, a chalk board and stop-motion ships. 

Elvey is here to salute the positives and is relatively subtle in this work. As Powell and Pressburger were later to show, to make good propaganda, you have to be fair to the opposition: hate isn’t enough especially when compared with pride and the need to do your duty. Here, as in actuality, Nelson’s last words were “thank God I did my duty” and there were more than enough reliable witnesses to his last hours as confirmed by Andrew Lambert in his excellent biography - Nelson: Britannia's God of War.

Nelson's women: Ivy Close as Mrs Nesbitt and Malvina Longfellow as Emma Lady Hamilton

Elevy expert Doctor Lucie Dutton recommended that book and also introduced the film, a significant part of her PhD thesis: Maurice Elvey:  The Development of a British Filmaker During the First World War. Long before filmmakers like Asquith, Mander, Cutts and that fella from Leytonstone proved the British could make decent silent films, Maurice was blazing the trail with forensic historicals such as this one and his amazingly ambitious Life Story of David Lloyd George (still one of my most cherished screenings back at the Barbican with Neil Brand accompanying). 

Lucie has waited a long time for this film to be screened again - as have I - and, having watched it on the BFI Player, I have to say it was so much more splendid on screen. Yes, the film is overly deliberate from time to time and feels limited in comparison to Lloyd George yet, not only was the director on a strict schedule and budget, he also had to re-shoot his scenes aboard HMS Victory and other sequences lost in a fire. To this day, this remains the only time the Nelson story has been filmed on the Victory and Elvey certainly felt a chill filming his main character’s death scene on the actual spot in which he died.

Roll call after the siege of Bastia

The film was a big hit and Lucie read out some reactions from schoolchildren most of whom had been impressed with our hero’s tussle with an unconvincing polar bear… clearly far more impactful for less-jaded eyes.

You can read my more detailed appraisal of the film here – it was a greater film with this screening and South West Silents are to be commended for arranging the weekend of Battleship Silents (Potemkin played on Friday night).

Maurice Elvey

Another feature of live performance is the accompaniment and we were blessed with the fascinating contrapuntal partnership of Stephen Horne and Martin Pyne. The two combined seamlessly on plenty of martial lines but also tripped off into more exotic tones one Nelson was in Egypt, his famous victory over Napoleon proceeded by jazzy rim shots, and excellent combinations from Mr Pyne on timpani and the bass drums. It’s fascinating to watch him work with Stephen Horne and it’s different from say the duo of Horne and Bockius: both percussionists put so much character in their playing. This suits Stephen very well and the next day I was to watch him accompanied by Elizabeth Jane Baldry on Harp… modern silent accompaniment is not just between the artistes and the screen but also between each other and the results are among the most rewarding improvisations you’ll hear anywhere.

Zeebrugge (1924)

We also had Stephen and Martyn accompanying the earlier screening of Zeebrugge (1924) which was a much more focused affair. Made by British Instructional Films (also known later for the films of Walter Summers, such as The Battles of Coronel and Falkland Islands (1927)) run by Harry Bruce Woolfe whose connections with a military very keen to make “celluloid memorials” celebrating key events of the Great War, explains their quite detailed approach – name checks for VCs and diagrammatic reconstructions, a record of what happened for the millions at home still grieving.

HMS Vindictive for the film

Zeebrugge was made with the consent of the Admiralty as they not only used their ships but also some chilling captured footage from a German U-boat showing allied shipping being sunk, a very uncomfortable watch even from this remove.

The story details the attempt to block the German Submarine base in the Bruges Canal by sinking three old cargo ships. The raid involved a flotilla of battleships led by HMS Vindictive, along with motor patrol baots and, surprisingly, the Mersey ferry boats Royal Iris and Daffodil. I was disappointed that the Royal Iris wasn’t the same vessel that used to ferry me across the Mersey but even so my Grandparents would have been passengers, although my and Colonel Bruce’s Grandad was busy in the middle East and India in the Great War.

The first Royal Iris

The raid was only marginally successful and 227 died with a further 356 injured compared with just 8 killed for the Germans – and yet it still made for a heroic tale for a population still processing the balance of their losses. A.V. Bramble and H. Bruce Woolfe direct very competently and using a mix of animated schematics and convincing live action show the bravery involved whilst also paying tribute to the named personnel who gained VCs and other medals.

It's almost a century since the war ended but we should never take these sacrifices for granted.

It was a grand day out in Portsmouth and an excellent initiative from James Harrison and South West Silents. Silent Portsmouth as a success and the presence of one of the stars nearby was poignant indeed…

HMS Victory

HMS Warrior at sunset

A hero for our times… Nelson (1918), BFI Player

My first thought in watching Maurice Elvey’s celebratory life story of Admiral Lord Nelson was that there was surely hardly anyone producing films of such length and scope in Britain at this time: a two-hour epic covering many years and battles across oceans... something that matched the ambition of American or European features. The film is not as good as the director’s next, The Life Story of David Lloyd George but that was backed more heavily before being pulled for many and complex reasons (c.f. Dutton, L).

Nelson - or Nelson; The Story of England's Immortal Naval Hero - is certainly propaganda, but it takes its facts and its audience very seriously. Nelson’s biography plays out with a minimum of gilded lilies and Elvey shows us major sea battles as forensically as possible with the aid of models, a chalk board and stop-motion ships. In its own way it reminds me of Monsieur Gance and his treatment of Napoleon (who, naturally, also makes his appearance here as less of a poet warrior than an implacable foe… France being our ally at the time of filming).  The style and technique of these films are worlds away, but both directors clearly saw their leads as key to their countries’ ideals of heroism and success.

Napoleon and Nelson both made their way against the odds – and established orders - on the basis of tremendous intelligence and daring. They were glory hunters and self-promoters but maybe that’s the price you pay for your heroes?  I’m sure Horatio would have approved of this film although maybe he’d have liked the crowds bigger at Portsmouth… just as Napoleon might have wanted a fourth screen added to the tryptic at the end of Gance’s film.

Napoléon Bonaparte

Elvey is here to salute the positives and is relatively subtle in this work. As Powell and Pressburger were later to show, to make good propaganda, you have to be fair to the opposition: hate isn’t enough especially when compared with inspiration and the need to do your duty. Here as in actuality, Nelson’s last words were “thank God I did my duty” and there were more than enough reliable witnesses to his last hours as confirmed by Andrew Lambert in his excellent biography (as recommended by Elvey-expert Lucie Dutton).

In the last section Nelson is in bucolic retirement in the beautiful gardens of his house in Merton, along with Emma Hamilton, his intellectual equal and the life of his love, only to be called away when Bonaparte looks to be making a pre-emptive move on the British fleet. In this time of great uncertainty, Pitt, his government and the admirals, turned to their unfailing naval leader, the man whose intelligence and intuitive genius had helped win battles across Europe and down to the Nile.

It was a battle too far, but Nelson won, and the course of history was changed.

1918

When this film was commissioned, there was still no certainty in the result of the Great War and, Nelson’s leadership, luck and determination was still the inspiration required on land and sea. The film starts in the now with the grandfatherly Admiral Fremantle persuading a young lad that there’ s a future in the navy and how the service has been funded by Kings and the Commonwealth as gifts to the people. An impressive shot of HMAS Australia and HMS New Zealand (part of the Royal Navy but funded by New Zealand) forging through rough seas with magnificent intent.

He tells the boy to study the life of Nelson and leaves him a copy of Southey’s Life of Nelson. Then we start the story of Nelson, someone who always had to fight against natural disadvantages but who never backed away from a thing that looked worth doing!  Whether it was falling from trees climbed far too high or fighting with the boys far too big, young Nelson was a boy of courage and endeavour.

He enlists in the navy at just 14 even though he is not considered the finest specimen and he even gets invalided out at one point, but nothing can stop his eventual re-appointment. In all of this he is encouraged by his uncle, Captain Suckling, although not to the extent of favours: the navy is an opportunity for any man made of the right stuff and as Lambert and other commentators support, it was possible to advance based on ability. This is fascinating in of itself and our hero does indeed have extraordinary resources.

This is quickly proved in artic waters when the young officer defends his men from a rampaging polar bear, an event which is portrayed in graphic details that are simply impossible to relay… safe to say the bear comes off second best and Nelson’s momentum to success builds.

Battle of St Vincent - Nelson boarding the San Nicholas...  "surrender and be damned!"

Elevy is meticulous in his detail and replicates the major victories in Nelson’s rise faithfully starting with the incredibly bold attack on the Spanish fleet at the Battle of St Vincent in which he attacked their flagship, the San Nicolas, after leading his men through an adjacent vessel. The director details the ship movements in these battles and we see clearly how Nelson’s instincts led to counter-intuitive surprises for the opposition.

One man could indeed make a difference!

What a message for 1918 and indeed for 2018… perseverance leads to Victory (of course) and of course, Elevy uses the actual HMS Victory when the time comes with some gorgeous shots looking down on Nelson as he boards the vessel as if stepping up to a higher level.

Bothered by Britannia in delerium dream

There is impressive use of visual metaphor throughout the film; Horatio clutching his locket of Emma when thinking of his love or Nelson viewed within the Union Jack and as literally the heart of nationhood. The young Nelson is visited by Britannia and great admirals past as in delirium he dreams of his future greatness in much the same way Gance’s man saw the ghosts of Danton and the fathers of the revolution. These men are so great they must surely have been divinely aware of their fate… inspiration teasing a forgone cinematic conclusion.

Given his budget, Elvey also injects as much actual awe as he can muster with impressive shots of battleships out at sea and numerous location shots even though the Defence of Calvi (1794) looks like it’s taking place in Kent, we still get a feel for the action.

Out of the shadows

I like the use of shade in creating dramatic intimacy, with shots out of the dark of Nelson leaving for battle or in the thoughts of his family as he is away from home. For a while this was a family formed by his marriage to Mrs Nesbit the widow – played by the excellent Ivy Close (another link with Gance as she later played in La Roue, his epic of transgressive love off the rails…) but, in a shockingly frank title card she is dismissed; Nelson craving action and warm-hearted appreciation which his wife lacked the power to supply…

Sorry Ivy, it’s not you it’s him.

Donald Calthrop and Ivy Close

The film stops off in Naples which seems a world away from the wars with its flimsy regent (Edward O'Neill) less interested in his elegant and intelligent Queen than Mrs Emma Hamilton (the suitably eye-catching American actress Malvina Longfellow) the wife of the British envoy to this small Mediterranean ally. Sir William Hamilton (Allan Jeayes) scarcely notices Nelson’s instant fascination with his wife whilst the pair are happy to use her to encourage the King to resist Napoleon’s advances. Much adventure ensues as the Neopolitans revolt (and having been there I can understand why, a tough city not given to powder-puff princes…) and Nelson leads the escape following a nail-biting siege.

Malvina Longfellow,

Back in Britain, after all of these successes – Nelson settles down eventually with Emma after his dear friend Hamilton passes away. They live in the rural bliss of Merton, probably not that far from Wimbledon Dog Track as it used to be and the bog Sainsbury at Abbey Mills, and there are superb sequences of them in lush English gardens. Emma gifts Horatio (formerly Herbert actually) a baby and all is bliss. That is, until Bonapart escapes and the fight for Europe reaches the make or break Battle of Trafalgar.

Nelson seems happy to settle but he knows there is no other option but to do his duty and, possibly, he is the only man who can do what is required.

Nelson and Emma in the garden of Merton

Even if this were not true, it’s what those watching in 1918 wanted to see and Elvey, who had based the script on the aforementioned Robert Southey’s biography of Admiral Horatio Nelson, made sure this was what they got. More reading is required to find out exactly how much Nelson is myth but in 1918 this was as much as needed to be. England expected as every man was doing his duty.

You can view Nelson on the BFI Player in very decent quality. There’s no score and I trust that one day soon, it will be screened. After all, how many British feature films get shown from 1918 let alone films of this ambition and importance? Given the specific circumstances of the War, I wonder how the film came to be and how it was received? I’m sure we’ll get the answers soon…

Let's make this quite clear!

Produced under the sole direction of Maurice Elvey