Rich man, poor man… Bodakungen (1920)

The Tyranny of Hate is the English title for this film and that says much more about the theme of this film than the Swedish which means Boda King, referring to the dominant local landowner played by the larger than life Egil Eide.

Set in the early 1800s the film was typical of the rural dramas popular in Sweden at the time and could easily have been drawn from a Selma Lagerlöf novel as were so many of the films of Mauritz Stiller and Victor Sjöström in the silent era. Here Gustaf Molander, previously scriptwriter for Stiller on the Thomas Graal films and uncredited contributor to Sjöström’s A Man There Was, both wrote and directed. It was Molander’s first film as a director and he went on to enjoy a long career up to the sixties and including Ingmarsarvet (1925) itself based on a Selma Lagerlöf story and starring leading Euro-hunks Lars Hanson and Conrad Veidt as well as Sweden’s finest actress/ballerina, the legendary Jenny Hasselqvist.

Egil Eide looks down on August Palme & Wanda Rothgardt 

Bodakungen tells of the feud between two farmers one from Ödemo (Storden in the English titles) and the other from Rävgården (Hogarden). Sören Torbjörnsson, the "Bodakungen"/Boda King, is the most successful with a large farm and many hands whilst his family rival, Mårten (August Palme) is failing with just his young daughter, Gunnel (Wanda Rothgardt) to help him. Ten years ago his son Hans, was sent away to school and he has failed to compete without him to the point at which the Boda King is close to having him evicted, “this would never have happened had he stayed…”

Torbjörnsson is a boorish bully, revelling in his own success and intent on taking out the hated competition, ruling “with an iron hand and a cold heart.” The only thing that gives him pause is his daughter, Eli (Winifred Westover) of whom he is almost frightened of letting her down. His wife (Hilda Castegren) he is less concerned by and treats her little better than his employees and, like them she does whatever he wants her too.

Torbjörnsson buys Mårten’s debt from a debtor at twice the value just so that he can use it to turn him out lock, stock and barrel – have a mentioned what a git he is? In fairness both men cling onto their family hatreds but only one is going to win at this rate. This exchange takes place at the Boda Fair a lavish recreation of the fun of a rural fair with acrobats and a cheating weightlifter who gets roundly chastised for using fake weights after a dog picks them up and walks away…

It's good to be King, or is it?

After the fair, the two old men clash with Torbjörnsson beating his frail rival and then heading home to enjoy a feast and to bully all around him with his only shame being in response to Eli’s sad look at his behaviour. If only she were with him all the time he says, he is missing her judgement as much as her respect but he can’t control himself and the corrupting power he has.

The morning after he’s back in full effect, advising Mårten of the best place to commit suicide after he turfs him out of his ancestral home; “… the Wolfes Rock is steep and the rapids fast.” But Mårten has a warning of his own, saying that his crimes will find him out before trudging off homeless with his daughter.

The following day a “stranger” comes climbing up from the lake and for a second I think it’s Lars Hansen only to remember that it’s Uno Henning… Lars was undoubtedly busy filming Erotikon and nursing his wounds from the previous year’s rustic rough and tumble of A Dangerous Wooing (1919). He spies Eli and there’s an instant connection as he explains how he’s adventured all around the World and now he comes looking for his father… I know, if only he knew who he was talking to!?

Hilda is very impressed with Uno's Hans...

Hans, for it is he, the son of Mårten, though “little blue eyes” Eli little knows it, takes her hand and promises to tell her the name of her intended, who he says will appear to her before the sun goes down on Wolfes Rock. Little does he know it, but this is a dangerous wooing too.

 OK, so this romance is telegraphed in the long tradition of Montagues and Capulets but there’s still an obnoxiously stubborn old git to turn round and redemption to be obtained… and the film is satisfying in the delays it allows as the narrative is placed in ways that is neither melodramatic or mawkish. The “king” could easily allow more of Eli’s kindness into his business plan but he simply doesn’t want to until it is forced on him. This is a tale as true now as it ever was, just imagine if Papa Trump’s Ivanka was a decent person… she might even turn him round.

But a reckoning is coming as Mårten decides to turn back from his exile and spend one last night in his farm. He bids farewell to his daughter and sets fire to the barn only to be rescued by Hans who also intervenes victoriously when Torbjörnsson tries to beat his father. From that point the tables do turn as the locals have had enough of his cruelty and, worse, his daughter’s love for him has gone. This is all very socialistic but there’s only one way back for the greedy landowner and that’s love as it always needs to be.

A domineering dad and a disappointed daughter.

Bodakungen is a very enjoyable tale and Molander’s skills nearly rival the Big Two’s with drama, morality and some gorgeous backdrops captured by cameraman Adrian Bjurman; you really cannot go wrong with Swedish lakes and mountains.

It’s more evidence, if any were required, of the strength in depth of Swedish film at this point and there’s plenty more where this one came from!

Capitalism at work...

Ain’t no mountain high enough… A Dangerous Wooing (1919)

A Dangerous Wooing (Ett farlig frieri) was Rune Carlsten’s directorial debut and he went on to make some twenty films up until the 1940’s. If you didn’t know better you might almost assume that this romantic comedy drama was the work of his more renowned Swedish contemporary, Victor Sjöström, with extensive shots of the Scandinavian countryside (actually the region around the Hardanger Fjord in Norway) but Carlsten shows a lighter touch.

The exterior camerawork is exemplary from Raoul Reynolds and Carl Gustaf Florin, showing the sweep of endless mountains and hills behind the  Husaby farm at the centre of this very human romantic comedy… The day-to-day struggles of existing on this land is set aside as the characters set about each other but in the end the physical challenges of their location ,must be over come in order for the day to be won.

Right rural ain't it?

Carlsten’s tone may be warmer but, as with Sjöström, he attempts to paint an historically-detailed picture of traditional rural life from the clothes and the manners to the daily routines of cows, cooking and horn-blowing and, of course, the endless scrapping. Unfortunately for the boys there seem to be very few eligible young women in the village and the men of a certain age can’t stop fighting over her.

Gull Cronvall and Lars Hanson

Aslaug (Gull Cronvall) is the winsome daughter of veteran cock of the walk, Knut Husaby (Theodor Blick) who freely describes himself as the “Wolf” and his two sons as cubs… although Sigurd (Hugo Tranberg) and Eyvind (Gosta Cederlund) seem scarcely feral.

The old wolf Husaby!

As the film opens we see the old Wolf repel an amorously-intentioned violinist (Torsten Bergström) who is unceremoniously booted down the garden, landing next to two other would-be suitors. The keen-eyed viewer may spot a young Uno Henning as one of them… he would later star so effectively  in A Cottage on Dartmoor and more.

Thormund (Hjalmar Peters), the wealthiest farmer in the area approaches with his only son, Ola (Kurt Welin) who has all of the financial backing and none of the front being a podgy lad who is easily despatched and dunked in milk by Uno and his accomplice.

The Competition...

Nor will he fare any better with Aslaug, who only has eyes for one man, the handsomely-capable Tore Næsset (the capably-handsome Lars Hanson) who is not only her pick of the bunch but far smarter than the competition. He and Aslaug are already in love and the one little thing standing in their way is his humble station... well, that and Aslaug’s fearsome father.

Tore is the son of a humble small-holder and even his mother (Hilda Castegren) tells him he’s too poor to score with the Wolf’s foxy daughter (sorry…). But, he’s a man crazy in love and determined to bridge the income gap.

Sweethearts

Thormund and his son arrive to propose to Husaby – and his daughter – and the Wolf declares that it’s her decision. She politely declines the course of her heart having already been set and then Tore declares his intentions only to be laughed out of the house by the older men and their sons: he is not worthy…

The counter-proposal is laughed off

But Tore is nothing if not steadfast and he continues to see Aslaug, fighting off attention from all comers during the course of her daily life minding the cows in the family’s extensive farm. As he bests every lad from the village, the Wolf decides it’s time to intervene… with the help of his two sons naturally…

Tore is ambushed by the sons and having easily beaten them both off is caught unawares by their father’s joining the fray. The three Husabys give him a beating and the Wold tells him that unless he makes it to see Aslaug the next Saturday, their engagement will be called off and she will have to marry  Ola Thormundson…

Tore evades the ambush

As Tore licks his wounds – in so much comedy bandage – the other families keep watch and make sure his entry to the farm and the single track to the out-house where Aslaug stays when minding the cattle, is impassable. Tore attempts a brave attack only to be repelled by weight of numbers… All looks lost until he stares out from his mother’s house up the impossibly high cliff to where his love waits…

Hang on...I've got an idea...

Rune Carlsten’s direction is assured and moves into a higher gear with the action scenes and the physically-impressive outdoors: the sub-polar light was key to Scandanavian success at this stage of cinema al fresco.

Lars is excellent as you’d expect and proves as adept at comedy as drama faced with the impressively-mighty Theodor Blick who you just wouldn’t want to mess with unless, that is, you were inescapably, bravely, in love with his daughter.

The version I watched was a copy of the 2010 restoration from the Svenska Filminstitutet which comes with an impressive, jazz-tinged score from Matti Bye. It's available on DVD from Loving the Classics purveyors of decent quality public domain cinema.

Uno Henning gets the cold shoulder

The razor’s edge… A Cottage on Dartmoor (1929)

Anyone still contending that the British silent film industry lacked quality in comparison with its continental cousins, will have had their arguments weakened over recent years with the restoration and re-evaluation of films by Maurice Elvey, Miles Mander and Alfred Hitchcock all of which demonstrated Hollywood finesse mixed with European élan and very distinct British sensibilities.

Then there's Anthony Asquith whose 1928 film Underground enjoyed such a renaissance last year and who has often been compared with Hitchcock upon the basis of that film and A Cottage on Dartmoor produced the following year. The comparisons are apt as I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so uncomfortable watching a silent film as when Joe holds his barber’s razor at the exposed throat of Harry… the world and the watcher hold their breath hoping that that sharpened steel won’t slice through vulnerable skin yet, horribly, shockingly, it does… “was that an ear?!” gasped my wife…well no, but it could have been…

As with the film we need to rewind to find out what happened and how… Cottage starts in the most thrilling of ways as a young prison escape drops down onto the grass and starts running for dear life across the moors. Asquith follows his progress across the barren moorland – it’s a very modern start establishing desperation from the off.

The man sees a cottage in the distance and, narrowing his eyes, runs on ever more determined to reach his goal… The scene shifts to the interior where a young mother Sally (Norah Baring) is caring for her baby, both so vulnerable and alone. The door bursts open: wind, rain and Uno Henning (for it is he) force their way into the warmth… “Joe!” mouths the girl…she knows him and precisely why he’s come.

Asquith’s style is dynamic and builds the level of tension very skilfully. Joe has unfinished business and yet there’s more going on between the two than simple hate…

After this momentous overture, the film pauses and takes us back to explain how these passions came to be roused…

Sally and Joe work in an upmarket barbershop, providing grooming services for well-heeled clients who don’t have the time to shave or file their nails… nowadays this would be a beauty parlour or whatever the term would be for a modern male boutique.

It's always the quiet ones...

Joe has eyes for Sally and is taking his time about making a move. He has tickets for a talkie but drops them in his nervousness allowing one of his colleagues to step in and make the offer to someone else.

A new customer arrives – the far from metrosexual Harry (Hans Adalbert Schlettow) and starts to impress Sally. He owns land in Dartmoor along with a nice cottage; he’s confident and cash-rich: Joe is consumed with envy to top up his sexual frustration.

Harry takes Sally to the talkies and Joe follows – a night of guaranteed misery ahead. The following sequence is precious as Asquith shows us the cinema’s reaction to a new-fangled talkie showing us just what 1929 thought of the revolutionary but potentially faddy new gimmick. The band stop playing after the supporting silent features and break out the beer and sandwiches, old people struggle to hear the dialogue, straining their ear-trumpets screen ward whilst others fall asleep, deprived of the need to concentrate and ground down by stilted, squawky dialogue…

It’s fascinating in what it reveals of contemporary reactions but most of all it shows how knowing and blasé audiences have always been: go on, how many times have you lifted your 3D specs to peak at the time wondering how long you have till closing time? The drama must always come before the effects.

Just like Alfred, Anthony counter-positions this humour with the enfolding unease of the slightly too intense and extra-ordinary Joe…who, as the audiences tries to work out the talkie directs his unwavering gaze towards Sally.

The next time we see this uncomfortable triangle it’s back in the boutique where Joe is shaving Harry whilst Sally is polishing his nails. It’s an awkward moment at the best of times but Joe has a blade that is oh so sharp just centimetres from Harry’s stubbly neck. Harry chats up Sally and injury is piled on agony as Joe spots a large sparkly ring on the beautician’s finger…

Joe can stand no more and in a move that almost breaks the silence he makes the mistake that will alter all of their lives.

“Don’t move! Or I’ll cut his throat!”

Sally falls back in shock and the shop reels in panic as Joe’s thoughts are translated into potentially deadly action. For agonising seconds the situation is poised and then a policeman is called in, there’s a shout and something dreadful happens. Joe is caught between instant remorse and the desire for revenge…

Away to prison and his escape years later… surely he is intent on settling his account with the couple. But it’s not to be that simple as Sally quite shockingly hides him from the police and even trusts him alone in her room with the child… And there’s more as Harry returns and, after his initial shock and Sally’s pleading agrees to help Joe escape.

This is no ordinary love triangle and I won’t spoil the resolution. Needless to say Sally feels more for Joe than he realised and maybe Harry understands that… and the possibility that he wooed her away with his promise of financial security?

Ultimately Joe’s love for Sally is pure and passionate yet he is prevented from acting on it by his own timidity and social pressures. He’s a very modern hero/antihero who loves Sally as much as his own life.

This was the third time I’d watched Cottage and it affected me more than the first two – there’s some disturbing truths smuggled into this one.

The three leads are all excellent with Nora Baring perfectly cast as the girl who might say no and Uno Henning a ball of Teutonic energy, submerged in a mess of confliction.

I watched the BFI DVD which features a specially-written score from Stephen Horne, whose trademark lyricism is entirely in tune with the film’s spirit, helping to bring out the flavour of true love lost amidst the desolate moorland.

“Over the moors, take me to the moors…Oh Dartmoor, so much to answer for…” as Stephen Morrisey might well have sung.

The Love of Jeanne Ney (1927) Pabst amongst the best?

GW Pabst doesn't appear to always get the same level of unfettered respect as compatriots, Lang and Murnau. His career wasn't as long and varied as the former and he maybe didn't have the cohesive style of the latter. It's been said that his success with Pandora's Box was more down to Louise Brooks' spellbinding performance but Brooksie always gave him great credit. Surely it would be churlish to say that he was similarly lucky to have Asta Nielsen and Greta Garbo making him look good in Joyless Street?

Any doubts about Pabst's technical ability are removed pretty swiftly when watching The Love of Jeanne Ney (Die Liebe der Jeanne Ney) made in 1927. The camera work is stunning and he cuts quickly moving the action and emotion along at a pace. There are hand-held shots, rapid close-ups - used to humorous effect upon the death of a parrot - and some unorthodox camera angles used, as in the excellent Abwege, to show the cross-eyed decadence of crowded bars. There are also some fascinating street scenes of Paris with the Gares du Nord and Lyon looking especially splendid in granite grey monotone.

The plot, I have to confess, is a tad confusing and there is maybe too much thrown in and one outrageously overblown character...but it works overall because of the pacing, the images and the naturalistic and powerful, performances Pabst gets out of his cast.

Jeanne Ney (Edith Jehanne) is the daughter of a French diplomat based in Russia during the post-revolutionary civil war. Her father is set up by the scheming Khalibiev (the rat like Fritz Rasp...never has an actor been more aptly entitled...) and in the confusion is shot by Jeanne's lover, Andreas Labov (the ridiculously handsome Uno Henning).

Jeanne flees to Paris, as does Khalibiev and Andreas, she takes a job with her private eye uncle Raymond (Adolph Edgar Licho) working as a secretary alongside his band of detectives. Raymond's blind daughter, Gabrielle (played with some style by Brigitte Helm) is somehow enticed into engagement by the scheming Khalibiev who threatens all their lives with his greed.

It's a complex storyline but with some great set pieces. Just why no one spots Khalibiev for the fraud he is isn't clear but he's a great villain who lusts after Jeanne and treats everyone just like the street walker he picks up and casually shoves into his hotel room. He murders Raymond for the diamond his agency has found and there's an horrific moment when Gabrielle enters the room after the deed is done. She seems to terrify Khalibiev - as if with her sightless eyes she's looking right through him - and lets out a primal scream of mourning when she finds her father's body.

Khalibiev tries to implicate Andreas but Jeanne pursues him in the misguided hope that he can clear his name. He tries to use this in the most dastardly way to seduce her on a train but Jeanne learns the truth just in time. The ending is an optimistic one and reminds me of the Hitchcock dénouement at the end of North by Northwest; well, they're both set on trains and take mere seconds to resolve the plot! Cleverly done though, we want a happy ending and there are so many lose ends, Pabst provides this crescendo of hope and lets us do the rest!

Pabst gets some superb performances out of his cast. Edith Jehanne is so natural as the lovely and in love Jeanne (quite why this film was re-titled Lusts of the Flesh for the UK is beyond me: it's all about love and not some 1950's C-movie). It's hard to see Garbo (who may have had the role had she not headed west) doing the job any better and Jehanne gives more testament to the depth of modernistic acting talent in 1920's Europe.

Uno Henning also makes an excellent leading man and is a little underused. He went on to star in Anthony Asquith's superb A Cottage on Dartmoor but the coming of sound meant he wasn't more successful outside of his native Sweden. Brigitte Helm plays Gabrielle with a frail, halting physicality... dancing the role as much as anything. To some she appears to overwork the blindness but she gives a remarkable, consistent and quite moving performance. A great actress with a considerable range: from robots to rich countessas, wandering wives and innocents like Gabrielle.

If anyone oversteps the naturalistic line in the sand it's Rasp with his pantomime expressiveness, evil moustache and weasel features. But there is surprising depth in his playing and moments when he clearly doubts himself, is in fear or, indeed, in love with Jeanne or in pity with Gabrielle. Every good tale needs a bad rat and he's the man Jeanne and Andreas must overcome to win the day.

All in all this is a thoroughly entertaining film that alongside Abwege, Joyless Street, Diary of a Lost Girl and Pandora's Box, shows Pabst deserves to be aligned with the very best of Weimar directors.

The Kino DVD is very good; a fine clear print enlivened by Timothy Brock's excellent score - the music being always so important to silent films. You can buy it here.

Supplementary: Brigitte Helm as method actress? There's a fascinating quote from Close Up magazine (one of the first to treat cinema as academically important), from an interview with Pabst in 1929:

Interviewer: "Her performance of the blind girl in Jeanne Ney is one of her most striking. I don’t feel Brigitte Helm is acting. I feel she is in a trance. That she has the power to throw herself into a trance and to move and speak and live a life quite outside her own experience."

G.W. Pabst: “Ah, you see. You have it. Do you know the scene when she walks with Jeanne Ney in the streets of Paris, she was almost killed. The actor driving the taxi was not a driver really, but had had to learn. He was not very sure of his steering. Brigitte Helm walked right in front of him. I had to run before the camera to save her. Do you know why? She was blind. She simply did not see it.”