The end for Elvey and Eille... The Sign of Four (1923), Barbican with John Sweeney

We were warned before the performance to expect some vintage British racism and a high-speed motorboat chase – and the film didn’t disappoint.

The Sign of Four was released some months after the third and final series of shorter Sherlocks from Stoll films and, as the audience clearly knew, their hero’s fall from Cheddar Gorge in The Final Problem (1923) was far from fatal.

It marked the return of Maurice Elvey as director and his deft touches ensure a thrilling end to the franchise as Eille Norwood exits in style being much more at the centre of things than in the first Stoll feature when the Baskerville hound tended to dominate as The Great Detective went deep, deep undercover. Here, as in the three shorts shown earlier this month at the Barbican, Norwood emphatically demonstrates what Conan Doyle described as: “…the brooding eye which excites expectation” along with  his “… quite unrivalled power of disguise."

"...unrivalled power of disguise..."

Norwood explained his Sherlock method in the Stoll newsletter in 1921: “My idea of Holmes is that he is absolutely quiet. Nothing ruffles him, but he is a man who intuitively seizes on points without revealing that he has done so, and nurses them with complete inaction until the moment when he is called upon to exercise his wonderful detective powers…”

Norwood is indeed a remarkably “still” presence and his darting eyes, hooded by decades of actorly observation, never reveal all they have clearly seen…

Now for the awkward part… The film is over 90 year’s old and the story even older…when the Orient was often associated with dangerous mystery. The film starts with the arrival of Prince Abdullah Khan (Fred Raynham… yes; Fred!) at 222 Baker Street who spooks the life out of Mrs Hudson (Madame d'Esterre) with strange and intense looks. He also bothers Sherlock and Watson (here played by Arthur M. Cullin following the untimely death of Mr Willis after the end of the last series) by pretending to be Russian before Sherlock exposes him as an Indian… The nuances are lost on modern viewers but in the early Twenties the former could be heroic White Russians and the latter rebellious nationalist-terrorists.

The Prince has come to enlist the detective in finding a missing woman but is sent away with a flea in his ear for his deception, coincidentally passing the woman in question on her way in as he skulks off into the pearly-grey bustle of Baker Street.

Isobel Elsom

The woman is one Mary Morstan (Isobel Elsom soon to be the third Mrs Elvey) who wants Holmes to investigate the murder of her father – killed by a most un-British poisoned dart - and the pearls she receives every year from an address in Twickenham. She also has a mysterious set of four signs found on her father’s body: what do they mean for his death?

Holmes looks to camera and the title card reads “This should be exciting!” The boys are back in their well-honed routine and Eille and audience couldn’t be happier.

Sherlock soon deduces that the signs indicate a conspiracy between four men and that, whilst Miss Morstan’s father was almost certainly one of the four, another must have broken away and, through guilt, started sending the gifts to his daughter. Clearly the Prince is also connected…

Mary receives a message asking her to rendezvous at the American embassy at 7.45 pm, where she will learn more of her father’s demise. She keeps the appointment with Holmes and Watson in tow. There’s a function on at the embassy and Elvey creates a fascinating scene with ordinary London faces gawping with envious curiosity at the bright young things arriving in their rich attire – it feels like a pointedly political moment.

Man of mysteries

A man approaches Mary and takes her, Holmes and Watson to a large run-down house on the river bank at Twickenham. The boys soon disarm the man and discover he is Doctor Sholto (Humberston Wright) part of the conspiracy of four and in fear of his life from the two others.

The scene shifts to what looks convincingly like location shooting in India where the plot was hatched by prisoners who knew the location of stolen treasure. Mary’s father was the governor and he was included in the scheme… but Sholto made off with all of the loot himself leaving the other two, the Prince and Jonathan Small (Norman Page) to suspect and kill the Governor as their prime suspect.

Sholto goes to another room to fetch the treasure but is killed before he or his assailant can locate the treasure… and the game is truly on…

Sherlock gets to try a few disguises as the plot turns slightly procedural and the police arrive to jump to the wrong conclusions. This is, of course, normally Watson’s role but when he’s not paying close attention to Mary he’s being tortured by the baddies about that lost loot.

In spite of the police contribution, Sherlock gradually establishes the actuality and everything culminates in a genuinely thrilling race between motorboats and cars during which Elvey ticks off London locations from bridges Kew, Hammersmith and Tower to Fleet Street and the Strand: like one of those contrived “races” on Top Gear only better and without that Yorkshire bloke.

"Help" from the Police

Elvey cuts quickly throughout and this last passage has smoothly multi-tracked perils like DW Griffith on fast forward – and yet this is a very British application of the technique being used to move the story along with maximum efficiency. A fitting end to the series and one that felt thoroughly modern.

John Sweeney was seen warming up his hands before kick-off and he needed considerable dexterity to keep pace. His improvisations expertly supported the story and, along with Messrs Brand and Horne he shows what a difference individual style makes to the silent experience. Every live performance is unique and this adds musical tales of the unexpected to every “fixed” silent text… Excellent entertainment for a windy Sunday afternoon!

The Sign of Four is only available from the BFI archives but hopefully these Barbican screenings will help it and the other Elvey/Norwood films get greater recognition.

Meanwhile, there’s more! Stephen Horne will be playing along to three Stoll shorts at the Phoenix Cinema on Sunday 5^th April - details on their website.

Maurice Elvey and Neil Brand at The Barbican - The Life Story of David Lloyd George (1918)

As Ian Christie said in his introduction, not many of the audience at London’s Barbican Centre would have seen a British silent film from 1918 before and certainly not one of this scale and sophistication.

We were gathered to watch a special screening of Maurice Elvey’s The Life Story of David Lloyd George with live accompaniment from Neil Brand and an introduction not just from the eminent Mr Christie but also John Reed from the Welsh Film Archive. Mr Reed not only played a major role in restoring the film; he found it after a mysterious disappearance for almost 80 years. Thrillingly, because the film had never been seen, it is pretty much in mint condition – this is cinema as it looked in 1918, no digital restoration, just the impression left by the light on the nitrate.

LG gave a five hour speech in Commons for the 1909 budget

Just why this lavish production, trumpeted for months in the trade press, never made it to the screen is not known. Kevin Brownlow suggests that, the war over and Bolshevism as the new threat, the powers that be didn’t want a film that celebrated Lloyd George’s almost socialistic achievements in the areas of pensions, health insurance and equality.

Whatever the political machinations, they can only add to the interest in what is a major historical document - a record of Britain during the Great War and which showed, like Birth of a Nation, that some issues remain unresolved even when consigned to “history”.

The young solicitor

At the end of the film, Lloyd George is seen ruminating about the peace process and resolving to make sure Britain is better prepared for any future conflict before realising that there must never be a “next time”…a highly poignant ending and one which reflected the horror at the blood-letting of the “War to end all wars”. Sadly, we now know the Second World War was birthed in the settlement of the First and Lloyd George lived on to see almost the whole of that mess too.

The film is faithful to its subject and, some childhood inventions aside, uses only dialogue culled from Lloyd George’s speeches and debates. This helps to side-step the pitfalls many subsequent biopics encounter in attempting to convert character and events into neat dialogue…

Pembrokeshire

But then Elevy makes the right choices throughout the film and underpins the documentary by using the actual locations from the small Manchester cottage where Lloyd George was born to the various buildings in the Llyn peninsular where he grew up and began his legal career. There are even some glorious shots of the bay at Portmadoc along with Cadair Idris, one of the highest and most beautiful peaks in this part of Wales (I climbed it last summer: stunning views all round!).

Cadair Idris

Elvey drove miles to film a few minutes of Llandudno in Hindle Wakes… it’d be nice to think he’d formed an attraction for North Wales based on Lloyd George.

Elvey’s commitment to realism extended to huge set pieces re-enacting a number of LG’s major speeches and featuring – literally – a cast of thousands. As Ian Christie pointed out, it would be a long time before any British director again operated on this scale. It’s particularly effective for the Birmingham Town Hall riot when LG’s anti-Boer War stance almost got him strung up: the streets are overflowing with extras… at least I think they were extras!

Birmingham riots

Norman Page also plays a major part in “keeping it real” and makes for an uncanny Lloyd George: there are times when you forget that it’s not the Prime Minister touring the munitions factories or being smuggled out of the Birmingham riot. It’s a measured performance and it has to ring true, especially with the subject matter still very much in power… a pressure performance! At least Michael Sheen’s frequent takes on Tony Blair have generally been after his reign ended (don’t write the old charmer off yet though).

Written by Sidney Low the film covers Lloyd George’s life in meticulous factual detail – what else could you do with a living subject - from his humble beginnings to the Great War victory that seemed sure to guarantee his lasting reputation. Up to this point (Marconi Affair aside) LG had been largely sure-footed but there were to be later complications...

The great orator

Shortly after his birth, LG’s father’s failing health led the family home to Pembrokeshire. His mother moved in with her brother, a man of conscience who greatly influenced LG’s morality. He was also inspired by the preaching of his teacher and in a Griffith’s touch; Elevy shows us brief re-enactments from the scriptures. LG was moved but in a non-conformist and Welsh way - a man of his own people as egalitarian in this film as British movies ever got.

Man arrested for stealing bread...

LG becomes a successful solicitor with his quick intelligence and skilled oratory playing a major part. He marries his childhood sweetheart and a visit to Parliament convinces him to become and MP and, his reputation enhanced by the episode of the LLanfrothen Burial Case, he squeaks past the Tory candidate by 19 votes to become MP of Caernarfon Boroughs

There follows scenes of LG’s passionate debates in Commons (one of which got him suspended for a week) along with the public meetings which stirred the electorate as well as enraging them.

LG is greeted by the ghosts of PM's past... Disraeli on left.

Measured against modern Liberals, LG seemed to be largely free of compromise and with a distinct programme allied to a deep-lying morality. You feel like cheering as he becomes Chancellor and steers through the People’s Budget from 1909-11. This was a key point in the curtailing of both Royal political influence as well as the ability of the House of Lords to block the enactments of the lower chamber. In other words, the elected assembly prevailed and Lloyd George was a great parliamentarian for this alone.

"The workhouse doors open..."

But it is LG’s performance in World War One that is most celebrated and this section covers the last hour or so of the film. LG is shown resolving the ordinance supply issues which so threatened the allied efforts. Rail routes were improved and manufacturing was re-prioritised to ensure higher levels of viable ammunition.

LG takes over as Prime Minister in 1916 and helps to unify the Allies who are soon to include the USA. The films propagandist agenda tips the hat to all involved parties but this was wartime and audiences need sense to be made of the deaths of millions. LG ensures the appointment of General Foch as commander in chief of the allied forces and this is the key appointment as the German forces were finally forced into surrender.

Prime Minister David Lloyd George

It’s a huge film covering a lot of ground but it never drags… Elevy’s inventiveness moves the narrative along and by focusing on snapshots of key events would have touched many a nerve with contemporary audiences. He considered it his best film* and whilst Hindle Wakes is the more enjoyable, this film is a huge accomplishment for the time.

Amongst the supporting cast is the future Mrs Hitchcock, a teenage Alma Reville, as LG’s daughter Megan and there’s also a blink and you’ll miss it cameo from Peggy Carlisle a Liverpudlian lass who played Mary in Hindle Wakes… I think anyway!

Peggy Carlisle cameo?

Neil Brand accompanied the film, and his score included the odd touch of contemporary music to add context all within a more modern composition. It was superbly sympathetic to the story and he played with energy and invention for the full two hours and twenty minutes: a mighty effort!

His score is featured on the National Screen and Sound Archive of Wales DVD which the Barbican had kindly placed on sale in their Level 3 Shop (still there if you’re quick). In addition to a 16 page booklet there’s a second disc featuring an introduction from Philip Madoc along with interviews with Kevin Brownlow as well as Mr Brand. It’s also available direct from the Archive where you can also find extensive clips and more details. It is absolutely essential for all aficionados of early British cinema.

Norman Page and Alma Reville with some odd "ducks"

You can only wonder what impact this film would have had if it had been released in 1919. I’m sure the public would have flocked in their millions to celebrate their Prime Minister and Britain would have had a film to celebrate of similar stature to DW Griffith’s epics.

Also, if Birth of a Nation revived interest in certain unpleasant political strands in the US, isn’t it possible that Elvey’s film may have played a similar role in cementing the altogether more positive achievements of liberalism at a time when it was being compromised. The Liberal Party never recovered from the need for Conservative support in the latter years of LG’s premiership and they were soon out-flanked by the Labour Party. Could this film have helped LG’s party to stay more true to themselves?

Just a thought. You can’t buck a long term trend in political culture with a mere film… can you?

*Thanks to Lucy Dee, “Miss Elvey”, for that snippet!

LG working hard with his secretary