Main character energy… Java Head (1934)/Drifting (1923), BFI Anna May Wong: The Art of Reinvention

 

“That she is an exceptionally clever actress one cannot doubt. She may merely wander through a corner of the picture, but she’ll register a hit every time.”

H.C. “A Chinese Puzzle”, Pictures and Picturegoer, February, 1924¹

 

Two films made over a gap of eleven years which show how our hero did indeed reinvent herself to keep working. Season curator Xin Peng pointed out in her introduction for the second film that whilst featuring as a teen in films staring Colleen Moore, Priscilla Dean and Alla Nazimova, she enjoyed a longer career than any of them, transitioning into the talkies not just in English but German, French, Chinese and “The King’s English” required for her roles in British films especially when American became briefly unpopular. Priscilla’s last film was Klondike in 1932 at the grand old age of 36 and Colleen’s last was The Scarlet Letter (1934) when she was 35 and certainly in a position to do what ever she wanted, be it building a dolls house or investing her money wisely.

 

Wong did not have the luxury of being able to retire early and she was only just picking up steam in the early thirties when she found fame and some fortune outside of the USA, breaking barriers in the UK and Germany, learning stage craft and putting on shows in China and Australia. She was willing to learn, not just languages but also the dancing always expected of her and the diction required to conquer the microphone. And, what guts did it take to step on stage in 1929, alongside Laurence Olivier to perform The Circle of Chalk at the New Theatre in London?

Anna May Wong in Drifting

 

Drifting (1923) with John Sweeney

 

As Yiman Wang points out² Anna (AMW) was only ever a freelancer with no substantial contracts in the manner of these other stars and, of course, even at the time in Hollywood it was remarked upon by the industry observers how she was never given star roles, the most she could hope for was a secondary role she could and often did make her own. So it is with Drifting directed by her “mentor” and sometime partner³, Todd Browning, who was 43 to her 18… He had previously worked with her on Outside the Law (1921) when she was underage and he married yet infatuated by the “exotic” and – for him – “unusual” girl^4.

 

In addition to being “the most murdered actress in Hollywood”, Anna May Wong is arguably the greatest scene-stealer even when given stereotypical roles and predictable narratives. This film followed on from her first substantial role in The Toll of the Sea (1922) and was intended as a vehicle for Universal’s “queen of the lot”, Priscilla Dean who dominates the screen time but to limited effect in comparison with AMW, who, looking even younger than her age, shifts through her dramatic progressions with some force whilst Dean just looks angry most of the time which, given the confusions of the script, is not surprising.

 

Matt Moore and Priscilla Dean

The new white man is very guarded in his language – I don’t know, maybe he is not the mine chief he claims to be…

 

The story? Well… there’s something about a government agent Capt. Arthur Jarvis (Matt Moore) posing as an entrepreneur trying to re-open a mine which is somehow cover for his attempts to shut down the opium trade around Hang Chow, a village near the poppy fields run by the Jhanzi outlaws. In Shanghai, opium dealer Cassie Cook (Priscilla Dean) isn’t making much money out of the profession and as her best pal lies dope sick, she is forced to team up with the rascally Jules Repin (Wallace Beery wearing a devious beard) who persuades her they can get rich on the pickings in Hang Chow.

 

Here they team up with the scheming Dr Li (William V. Mong in horrific yellow face) who whilst being no relation to Dr Fu Manchu, is supposed to be the father of the fragrant Rose Li (Anna May Wong) no matter how unlikely this is based on appearance. Meanwhile Rose has fallen for the noble Captain Jarvis and spends hours watching him standing outside the mine talking to his reliably Irish assistant, Murphy (Yale graduate J. Farrell MacDonald who probably got his Gaelic nose busted playing college football…) about opening the mine and how the two of them will defeat the massed ranks of the Jhanzi.

 

As with Mary Pickford, Anna May Wong could cry on cue...

Cassie and Repin collude with Dr Li and the former goes undercover as a novelist aiming to find out more about Jarvis’ two-man army only to fall in love with him. This complicates things greatly as tensions mount and the Jhanzi attack bringing out the best and worst of everyone: will Cassie choose the money or the man and can Rose put love and life before her duty to her evil father?

 

Her performances appropriate and splinter the stereotypes, upending their objecthood with a critical and sardonic twist…⁵

 

It’s an enjoyably odd film not just because of Browning’s uneven style but also a story that is, as The New York Tribune observed, “incoherent” with a “disagreeable” lead character⁶ that made them root for AMW’s Rose and they’re not the only ones. Anna May and J. Farrell are the most sympathetic watch as well as the token lovable kid, Billy the son of civilising missionaries, played by child actor Bruce Guerin who, when he grew up, became a professional pianist accompanying Bob Hope and many others.

  

John Loder and Anna May Wong clinch...

Java Head (1934)

 

AMW was 28 when she made this film and she first worked with producer Basil Dean on the theatrical version of The Circle of Chalk (1929) after he had been impressed with her performance in Piccadilly. The play had mixed reviews with her appearance praised and her “Hollywood accent” roundly condemned by such as the Bystander: “… it comes as a shock… to listen to the harsh nasal twang emitted from a figure of ancient China…” and the Graphic quipping “With Anna May Wong talking so American that Anna May Twang might be an apter name” ⁷.

 

As she did tie and again, Anna treated this setback as a learning experience and by the time of Dean’s Java Head she had learned the King’s English with the same alacrity as she did German and other languages. The result if her near perfect diction and characterful pronunciation that was usually more associated with the Orient at this time. Directed by J. Walter Ruben, with uncredited assistance from Thorold Dickinson and young Carol Reed, Java Head tells a story that would not have been legally possible in the USA with Anna May not only headlining but seen to kiss her Caucasian co-star John Loder. This ground-breaking moment was acceptable in Great Britain as the characters were married but even this is not especially evidence that, as Cole Porter was to report in the same year, “anything goes…” as the film gives mixed messages on racial tolerance and cultural-romantic compatibility.

The family meet...

 

The film is based in Bristol and the fortunes of two merchant shipping families, the thrusting Ammidons and the failing Dunsacks led by two former friends who had fallen out over twenty years earlier following a tragedy at sea.  Lovable Edmund Gwenn plays Jeremy Ammidon who even nearing the age of retirement is still passionate about his business and sailing ships whilst his land-lubber son, William (the great Ralph Richards), feels they need to innovate with steam and the fast clipper ships as well as the types of cargo they carry. Youngest son, the dashing Captain Gerrit Ammidon (John Loder) is eager for adventure and has the familial sea legs.

Gerrit sparks the old feud by falling for the Nettie Vollar (Elizabeth Allan), the granddaughter of old man Barzil Dunsack (Herbert Lomas) who in addition to hating the Ammidons, loves God a lot and in addition has yet to forgive Nettie for being born out of wedlock, one of a number of sins unmentioned but implied in a story partly based on implied opium trading and addiction. Barzil’s faulty logic drives Gerrit to sea and he leaves to make his fortune trading around the World.

 

A year later he returns and he has brought his new wife with him, Taou Yuen (Anna May Wong) much to the distress of his family, and of course lonely Nettie. She may well be a princess but this cuts no rice with the locals for whom she is “a heathen Chinese! From China!” who causes outrage when she attends church among all but the priest who hopes to discuss the teachings of Confucius with her. She also gets a warm welcome from Barzil’s son and Nettie’s uncle, Edward Dunsack (George Curzon) who is seemingly as addicted to China as he is to opium although again this is implied with Gerrit having brought a mysterious chest from Shanghai for him.

AMW generates MCE at the church

As the family gradually accepts Taou Yuen she forms a bond with Laurel, the youngest Ammidon child (an uncredited but spirited performer) who dresses up in Chinese clothes and make-up entering the room just as Edward is harassing her aunt and in his opium-addled state capable of anything. This narrative is also capable of anything and pulls a 360 or two over the closing sequences as Gerrit falls back in love with Nettie and starts to question his marriage. So too does Taou Yuen in ways that I can’t really explain here… themes very much of their time.

 

In the after-screening Q&A, season curator Xin Peng pointed out that AMW was very keen to make the film and so the mixed outcome is a surprise but perhaps balanced by the more positive aspects of the film and the actor’s skill in presenting more than the script demands in terms of authentic character and feeling. Once again she rises above and subverts the surface narrative in ways we see more clearly now than most would in 1934.

 

The film was made in between AMW’s theatrical tours of Britain which demonstrate her relentless ability to conquer new territories and theatrical routes as she carved out an unique path across countries and cultural boundaries. A truly remarkable woman.

 

There is so much more to see and learn from this season and full details of Anna May Wong: The Art of Reinvention can be found on theBFI website. Do not miss out!

  

1.       As quoted by Yiman Wang in “To Be an Actress: Labour and Performance in Anna May Wong’s Cross-Media World”, University of California Press 2024

2.       Also, in “To Be an Actress…”

3.       According to David J. Skal and Elias Savada in The Secret World of Tod Browning, Hollywood’s Master of the Macabre, Doubleday, 1995 as quoted in the BFI’s screening notes.

4.       Katie Gee Salisbury in Anna May Wong: Not Your China Doll, Faber 2024. When Browning’s wife discovered the liaison she left him.

5.       In “To Be an Actress…”

6.       David J. Skal and Elias Savada again.

7.       Katie Gee Salisbury in Anna May Wong

 

 

Dirty rats… Outside the Law (1920), Eureka Masters of Cinema Blu-ray, Out Now!

What I was going to say is… we weren’t born crooks, were we?

It’s only right and proper that Tod Browning should be included as a Master of Cinema given his contribution to the horror genre and also, as here, the development of the gangster picture. Here in 1920, we have something of the flavour of the late twenties with the likes of Underworld or The Racket, following on from the prohibition-induced black market. Tod Browning directs with pace and that swaggering mix of suspense with cocky comedy that defines the bravado of the settled genre. There’s a moll, a truly vicious hoodlum and grandiose betrayal for love all against a rather over-egged moral thread that mixes Confucius with Californian Christianity. The clincher perhaps is when Lon Chaney’s gangster calls a faithless fellow criminal, “…you dirty rat!”. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case.

Outside the Law is dynamic, emotive, soppy, violent, fun and this new 4k restoration from a 35mm print looks crisp and clear, apart from a few short passages showing deterioration, really bringing the action and some very fine performances to life, The film is considerably enlivened by a sparkling new orchestral score from noted film composer Anton Sanko, which gives the film a modern but respectful “volume”. 

Lon Chaney

It was Tod Browning’s second collaboration with Lon Chaney after The Wicked Darling (1919) and, as if to make up time, he has two roles, one as Black Mike Sylva, a gangster with his face twisted by malice, and the other as Ah Wing, loyal servant to the sagacious Chang Lo (E. Alyn Warren), who possibly had a larger role in the original cut with what we have now being based on a 1926 re-release. Both these characters are played in “yellowface” as was the practice at the time and distasteful though this now is, Chaney does his usual trick of completely losing himself in make-up, false teeth and costume.

Whilst it’s the Man of a Thousand Faces we remember the undoubted star here is Priscilla Dean as Molly Madden (Silky Moll), who plays the Moll (ha!) to perfection, quick-witted and every bit as ready with a gun as the men. As she proved in Browning’s The Virgin of Stamboul (1920) as well as Wicked Darling, Dean was an actor of presence, range and natural warmth. She is top billed for a reason and you can see why she was such a star and how she earned the epithet, The Queen of Crookdom, in her run of nine flicks with Browning. She’s snappy, sassy, and self-determined in a way we don’t normally see.

Priscilla Dean lookin' mean

As film writer Eddie Muller has said, Priscilla “…was a feminist icon before such a label ever existed” and whilst Kim Newman rather dismisses her lasting cultural impact in his video essay on this release, she was undoubtedly a phenomenon at the time and therefore worth study. In Muller’s notes from the San Francisco Silent Film Festival 2017, he sums up the contemporary appeal: “the public loved the power she wielded on screen; especially the sceptical sneer that became the actresses’ trademark, alerting audiences that there would soon be hell to pay and Miss Dean would be cashing the cheques.”

Dean plays Molly – aka Moll - the daughter of “businessman” Silent Madden (the most excellent, Ralph Lewis) who is determined to step away from his life of crime – ironically, Lewis was in an even earlier crime film called Going Straight with Norma Talmadge. They take advice from the sagacious Chang Lo and plan their exit.

Wheeler Oakman and Edward Alyn Warren not looking himself...

Unfortunately, Black Mike has other ideas and, planning revenge on people he really, really hates, he hatches a plan with Dapper Bill Ballard (the always-charming Wheeler Oakman who was also married to Dean at the time and the two have great rapport) to frame Silent for the shooting of a cop and force Molly into working with them. Silent is duly sent down for a couple of years, not found guilty exactly, just “in the general location” when the killing went down and leaving his daughter without a “protector”.

Molly, pained at her father’s injustice, happily goes along with a plan to rob jewels from a society party, little suspecting that it’s another of Black Mike’s traps and that he will leave her in the lurch for the cops to grab as he makes off with the loot. But, crime, as the title card says, can’t hold sway over the human heart and Dapper Bill confesses all to Molly with whom, naturally, he has fallen in love…

Priscilla and Ralph Lewis

The two collude as the deal goes down and they avoid even a triple cross before hiding out and going stir crazy waiting for the noise to die down. Is there still time to get back on the straight and narrow, will Bill penetrate Moll’s tough exterior with his puppy-dog eyes and the repeated intrusions of the cute kid from across the hall (Stanley Goethals) and will Black Mike discover them?

I’m not spoiling anything by revealing that there’s a huge bloody punch up at the end, much the same as in The Virgin of Stamboul and one heck of a gun fight in which Miss Dean plays a full part. The violent confrontation between Black Mike and Bill is bloody and set destroying… you wonder how they were able to choreograph such a scrap and it reminds me of other encounters, especially the bare-knuckled viciousness of Hobert Bosworth’s fight in the early part of Behind the Door (1919).

"Why, you..."

Clearly viewers knew a good fight well enough for these performers to take the punishment necessary to show them one on screen. It also feels very much part of Browning’s approach to filmmaking, drawn to the darker side of humanity and, even in the midst of genre entertainment, revealing a lot of emotional truth. In this world, the goodie couldn’t just expect superior technique to win the battle, they needed to fight for their lives. So, yes, there is some narrative artifice in the film but it’s unsettling enough to keep you gripped. Not a pure “classic” but certainly masterful.

On the subject of yellowface, whilst the likes of Sessue Hayakawa were big stars at the time, here there’s a fascinating cameo from an uncredited fifteen-year-old Anna May Wong, whose time would come certainly in terms of impact if not deserved career success.

Young Anna May Wong

Extras on this set include a new video interview with author / critic Kim Newman as well as an alternate ending from a 16mm print of the film, created in 1926 for a re-release – it’s not as good as the high-octane thrills of the main version but is still interesting. There’s also a lovely collector’s booklet featuring an essay by film historian Richard Combs.

No silent home should be without a copy and you can pre-order direct from Eureka by clicking on this link!

Dean’s mean… Outside the Law (1920), with Stephen Horne, BFI

 “Priscilla Dean… was a feminist icon before such a label ever existed.” Eddie Muller

As the BFI’s Bryony Dixon said in her introduction, the birth of the Hollywood gangster movie is normally placed in the late twenties with the likes of Underworld or The Racket, following on from the prohibition-induced black market, but here is an early contender from Tod Browning which has many of the classic ingredients; a Moll, a vicious hoodlum and betrayal for love. Outside the Law is a dynamic movie and the print we saw screened was largely superb, with so much detail on the big screen in NFT1.

It was Tod Browning’s second collaboration with Lon Chaney and, as if to make up time, Lon has two roles, one as Black Mike Sylva, a gangster with his face twisted by malice, and the other as Ah Wing, loyal servant to Chang Lo (E. Alyn Warren) who seemingly had a larger role in the original cut with what we have now being based on a 1926 re-release.

The look...

The undoubted star though is Priscilla Dean as Molly Madden (Silky Moll), who plays the Moll (ha!) to perfection and, as she proved in Browning’s The Virgin of Stamboul (1920), was an actor of presence, range and natural warmth. She is top-billed for a reason and you can see why she was such a star and how she earned the epithet, The Queen of Crookdom, in her run of nine flicks with Browning. She’s snappy and sassy and dominant in a way we don’t normally see – Bryony was right in that, we’d want to watch more having seen this film.

Eddie Muller’s notes from the San Francisco Silent Film Festival 2017 we reproduced here and he sums up this appeal: “the public loved the power she wielded on screen; especially the sceptical sneer that became the actresses’ trademark, alerting audiences that there would soon be hell to pay and Miss Dean would be cashing the cheques.”

Lon One and Lon Two...

Dean plays Molly – aka Moll - the daughter of “businessman” Silent Madden (Ralph Lewis) who is determined to step away from his life of crime – ironically, Lewis was in an even earlier crime film called Going Straight with Norma Talmadge. They take advice from the sagacious Chang Lo and plan their exit.

Unfortunately, Black Mike has other ideas and, planning revenge on people he really, really hates, he hatches a plan with Dapper Bill Ballard (the always-charming Wheeler Oakman who was also married to Dean at the time) to frame Silent for the shooting of a cop and force Molly into working with them. Silent is duly sent down for a couple of years, not found guilty exactly, just “in the general location” when the killing went down (la, la, la in Ameri-ca…) and leaving his daughter without a “protector”.

Cilla and Ralph Lewis

Molly, pained at her father’s injustice, happily goes along with a plan to rob jewels from a society party, little suspecting that it’s another of Black Mike’s traps and that he will leave her in the lurch for the cops to grab as he makes off with the loot. But, crime, as the title card says, can’t hold sway over the human heart and Dapper Bill confesses all to Molly with whom, naturally, he has fallen in love…

 The two collude as the deal goes down and they avoid even a triple cross before hiding out and going stir crazy waiting for the noise to die down. Is there still time to get back on the straight and narrow, will Bill penetrate Moll’s tough exterior with his puppy-dog eyes and the repeated intrusions of the cute kid from across the hall (Stanley Goethals) and will Black Mike discover them?

I’m not spoiling anything by revealing that there’s a huge bloody punch up at the end, much the same as in The Virgin of Stamboul and one heck of a gun fight in which Miss Dean plays a full part.

Also worthy of note is a small, uncredited cameo from a fifteen-year old Anna May Wong.

Wheeler Oakman before and after...

Stephen Horne had fun with this one using piano, zither (?), bowls and flute – a one-man gamelan rolling out a stream mood-matching themes that blended seamlessly with the narrative in ways few can sustain. Sometimes his music is so good you don’t notice it – in the best possible ways – whilst sometimes you do look over to check that there really are only two hands involved. Nothing is ever sacrificed to the integrity of his duet with the performers on screen and, if you’d seen Priscilla Dean, you’d know what I mean.

 Another excellent dip into the archives at the BFI, next up is Maurice Elvey’s Palais de Danse

(1929) which will be introduced by Elvey-expert Dr Lucie Dutton.

Anna May Wong on the left.

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert… The Virgin of Stamboul (1920), Kennington Bioscope with Cyrus Gabrysch

“The moving finger writes and having writ, caresses a camel…”

This was one of Universal’s most expensive productions and starred the irrepressible Priscilla Dean as Sari, part-time street thief, occasional dancer and full-time force of nature. Kevin Brownlow introduced and held us spellbound recounting his meeting with Ms Dean who, even in her old age was larger than life being a volunteer driver of her local fire truck and as down-to-earth as any former Hollywood idol had any right to be.

Kevin saw this film half a century ago and doubted that it had been projected since and this is the pure essence of Kennington Bioscope; yes, we’re quite spoiled in London with screenings at the BFI, Barbican and elsewhere but at the Cinema Museum we get to see the rare and unusual. It matters not whether every one is a classic; there’s always something to appreciate and this audience is packed full of connoisseurs.

Now, there may have been a little cork in this vintage adventure but with Mr Gabrysch conjuring up a musical meltemi and Pruce – as co-star Wally Beery called her – whipping up a storm, this one flew by without presenting too many surprises: we even get the inevitable Omar Khayyam quote.

Zoonoses are diseases that can be transmitted from animals to humans.

In the streets of Stanboul, the striking Sari steals bread to feed puppies, kisses pigeons as she shares her food and even snogs the odd camel… that’s how committed ‘Cilla was and some evidence of director Tod Browning's gift for strange charm. Naturally she attracts the attention of Capt. Carlisle Pemberton (Wheeler Oakman aka Mr Dean) who is in town to cement an alliance with the Black Horse cavalry of Capt. Kassari (Nigel De Brulier, later John the Baptist, out of the desert in Nazimova’s Salome).

There’s also less welcome attention in the form of Sheik Ahmed Hamid (Bad-boy Beery) who collects wives like some men collect 16mm film and has trust and anger-management issues that spell trouble. Finding out that his favourite wife, Resha (Ethel Ritchie), has been carrying on with a westerner, Hector Baron (Edmund Burns), he kills the man in the mosque. Now, as luck would have it, Sari has snuck into the mosque, even though women, “not having souls” (a false understanding of Islam still persistent in Western views at the time), are not allowed to be there.

Wheeler Oakman was married to Cilla Dean from 1920 to 1926

Sari went there to try and teach herself to pray after overhearing Capt. Carlisle discussing her, and, clearly impressed, wondering out loud if he should teach her… You have the feeling that the Captain’s God may be required to help at some point, especially after Sari attracts the attention of the sour Sheik.

As Carlisle heads off to the desert – which seems remarkably close to Stanboul – Ahmed makes moves to marry Sari by making her mother an offer she can’t refuse… Can Christian fortitude triumph over misguided local custom and will Leery Beery emerge triumphant with his hareem enhanced?

It’s fast paced with a thoroughly predictable yet thrilling ending and Priscilla Dean is impressive throughout although perhaps not the most convincing casting given the film’s title. The film was based on a story by one Herbert Harwell Van Loan… who turned to writing after his vehicle hire business folded (that’s a lie).

Before this we same a vary rare print of a British film, Maria Marten (1928), which was based on a sensational murder in 1827. The film was introduced by Michael Pointon who explained the extraordinary circumstances of the murder where one William Corder shot dead his lover as they met at the Red Barn in Polstead, Suffolk. Corder buried Maria at the barn but pretended she was alive and living with him in Ipswich. He was eventually found out and hanged in public and the murder was so infamous that bits of the rope and indeed his body have been preserved to satisfy public curiosity.

The film moves things back half a century and turns Corder into a nobleman with additional characters to produce something that turns into something like a silent Gypsy Columbo.

There’s some interesting camerawork that showed director Walter West had been watching German films with a great pull-back at a dining table as the nobles celebrate and a sumptuous shot of figures silhouetted through trees on a hill as a man mourns in the foreground. The murder itself, though missing the deed itself, does have real atmosphere and, as the killer emerges from the Red Barn, the shadow of a noose falling grimly on his neck: we know he’s going to get his.

Australian actress Trilby Clark plays the unfortunate Maria and you have to take your hat off (ahem) as she does a good job as does wicked Warwick Ward as her murderer. He’s thoroughly nasty (a bit like a more charming, better looking and much tougher version of Jacob Rees Mogg) and makes the mistake of murdering a gypsy whose daughter he has put in the family way. The man’s son witnesses the event and, after his sister also kills herself, he resolves to join the constabulary and right these wrongs through legal means.

Trilby Clark

It’s sensational stuff but, combined with John Sweeney’s sparkling accompaniment, entertaining as well as historically interesting; it’s always good to see British films of this period and whilst it’s no masterpiece it’s better to exist than not.

And so ends another special year at the Cinema Museum and only 42 days until the next screening on 9^th January!

Warwick Ward and Pola Negri in The Way of Lost Souls (1929)

Beery looms...

Beware of false advertising...