Train kept a rollin’… The Signal Tower (1924), Stephen Horne and Martin Pyne, San Francisco Silent Film Festival Streaming

“… so, remember… never think of anything but your duty, until the track’s clear and your train’s safe!”

I’d previously seen a screening of Kevin Brownlow’s own copy of this film with Cyrus Gabrysch accompanying ferociously at a breathless evening at the Kennington Bioscope and this was a chance to see the restored film Kevin had played a major role in constructing with the SFSFF. There were no 35mm copies and so Robert Byrne of the SFSFF, Patrick Stanbury and Mr Brownlow worked with surviving 16mm elements, scanning materials at 4k, digitally repairing and creating a new 35mm negative from which prints were struck that were then dye tinted by specialist chemists in Prague.

The results were screened at the 2019 SFSFF and are astonishingly good, crystal clear with the beauty of the Californian forests fully enhanced and the locomotives as impressively highlighted as the actors. What is it about boys and steam trains? The accompaniment from Stephen Horne, aided by Martin Pyne/Frank on percussion, brought out the full majesty of the setting and the mechanics as well as one of the most febrile of conclusions in silent film.

Virginia Valli wrote a letter to Picture Play magazine from location in Mendocino County “I’m… just about as deep into the wilds of Northern California as any picture player has ever ventured. It’s beautiful; great redwoods, the bluest sky I have ever seen and brown and yellow maple leaves lending a dash of colour to the deep green of the firs. It’s so beautiful it’s actually awe-inspiring.”

This restoration certainly confirms that former and emphasises the “awe” in terms of Clarence Brown’s setting – the entire movie was shot in situ with sets built near the railway tracks – but also his treatment of the locos. In his introduction the Bioscope event and his essay for the SFSFF festival, Brownlow emphasised Brown’s fascination with trains. Brown was an engineer by training and clearly relished filming these steam-powered giants, getting up at the crack of dawn with his cameraman, Ben F. Reynolds, to record the trains powering through the pines with steam billowing above them and into the narrow sunlight.

The company hade rented a stretch of track which had only one service a day and so were able to take their time in presenting the life of this remote outpost and, with plenty of time to stage the most explosive of life-sized stunts: no scale models were damaged in the making of this film.

You can understand Brownlow’s passion for this is a film to make the rail enthusiast’s pulse race that bit faster as this is a film to increase everyone’s BPM as Brown winds the tension to almost unbearable levels: a runaway train speeding down towards a defenceless passenger train, a signal man fighting the elements and time to dislodge the tracks and faced with the horrific dilemma of having to save the many whilst his wife is under imminent threat from a boozed-up Wallace Beery with only one thing on his mind; a very vulnerable Virginia Valli.

Rockliffe Fellows watches an actual train steam by in a signal towerpurpose built on location

Those misty Mendocino Mountains contain a signal box vital to the effective running of the railroads and manned by just two men each working twelve hour shifts. The always upstanding Rockliffe Fellowes plays one of these “Tower Men”, Dave Taylor, whose wife Sally (Virginia Valli of Wild Oranges and The Pleasure Garden fame) and young lad Sonny (Frankie Darro) live in an idyllic wooden house near the tower – three miles from the nearest town.

Dave’s partner Old Bill (James O. Barrows) is indeed old and one-handed and so is replaced by Joe Standish (Wallace Beery) a man who’s flash suit and polished shoes mark him out as self-obsessed from the start and who is referred to as a “railroad Sheik” by one of the company’s engineers.

Dave lets Joe take over old Bill’s old room and he soon sets his sights on Sally even though her cousin Gertie (Dot Farley) initially acts as a kind of shield for his unabashed “sheik-ness”. Sally sends Gertie away to pay more attention to her fiancé unwittingly removing her own last line of defence… Joe soon makes his move and Dave kicks him out.

Wallace Beery and Virginia Valli

A storm is brewing though and as events take a serious turn on the mountain, Joe arrives late and, drunk in the heart of a crisis, forces Dave to take over and, once again kick him out. But that’s not the end of Joe’s nuisance as Dave sees him heading towards his home through the wind and rain… As disaster looms he must choose between Sally’s safety and his responsibilities to protect the passengers.

Beery does his usual top-notch job – his intensity belying his lighter, more likeable edge whilst Valli was the perfect complement, with a vulnerability running alongside her desperate resolution to resist the demon in her house; the film would not work as well without her imbuing Sally with so much depth and without Beery’s ability to kid us that he’s just not going to be as bad this time. Rockliffe Fellowes meanwhile, is the perfect heroic straight man to the descending chaos, a natural straight-backed affability informing his character.

Full marks to young Darro as well, aided and abetted by Jitney the Dog.

The family under threat

Biographer Gwenda Young describes The Signal Tower as one of Brown’s most personal films and he even made an appearance as a switchman trying to stop the runaway train as well as being “Conductor Brown” the addressee of a telegram. The “home invasion” represented by Beery’s character cuts to the heart of every relationship and powerfully contrasts with the accelerating disaster without. For the many or for the crucial few?

It’s a dramatic scenario and one that required a great deal of precision musical engineering from accompanists Stephen Horne and percussionist Martin Pyne with the latter providing the locomotive power to the former’s heat and steam. Brown’s film is full of controlled rhythms and contrasts from the towering bucolic surrounds to the dynamic force of the locomotion and the wayward intensity of the human drama and the score successfully navigated this triple track escalation to the film’s pulsating closure.

For the musician, every note’s a dead man’s handle – for the train driver, everything stops if you release your grip but the music is dependent on the continuation of a thousand stabs of precise pressure: all the right notes and all in the right order with Beery’s leery menace as much a threat as the speed of those locomotives. Stephen’s themes were as strong as you’d expect and the rhythmic requirements brought out the forces pushing the ultimate dramas of family, lives and morality under threat.

So, now is exactly the right time to join the SFSFF and to experience this film which is online until the 4^th April. There’s also a collection of some previous restorations and the promise of more to come. Full details are on their website here.

The Signal Tower (1924) with Cyrus Gabrysch, Kennington Bioscope

Kevin Brownlow was in his element, retelling the tale of his pursuit of this print of The Signal Tower over many years with a recalcitrant collector, a self-made millionaire builder with a penchant for train films and fifties American TV shows. Mr Brownlow finally won over the covetous constructioneer who released his grip in the face of unrelenting enthusiasm and graciously agreed to pass on the treasure and all of his collection in his will.

You can understand the man’s own passion for this is a film to make the rail enthusiast’s pulse race that bit faster in fact, this is a film to increase everyone’s BPM as Clarence Brown winds the tension to almost unbearable levels: a runaway train speeding down towards a defenceless passenger train, a signal man fighting the elements and time to dislodge the tracks and faced with the horrific dilemma of having to save the many whilst his wife is under imminent threat from a boozed up Wallace Beery with only one thing on his mind with a very vulnerable Virginia Valli…

Rockliffe Fellowes and Frankie Darro

It’s a dramatic scenario and one that required a great deal of sinuous dexterity from accompanist Cyrus Gabrysch who provided the emotive musical fuel for this clash of metal, man and machines: a run-away pianist who matched the film beat for beat. For the musician every note’s a dead man’s handle – for the train, everything stops if you release your grip but the music is dependent on a thousand stabs of precise pressure: all the right notes and in the right order with Beery’s leery menace as much a threat as the speed of those locomotives.

The Signal Tower is a film of contrasts with glorious pastoral scenes of engine steam drifting through the mountainous woodlands being very reminiscent of Brown’s mentor Maurice Tourneur – the man KB reminded us he had approached for a job having virtually no experience: the former car salesman promising that he would become the perfect disciple an act of hutzpah that began the career of the man who would eventually direct so many Greta Garbo films.

Rockliffe Fellowes

Those misty mountains contain a signal box vital to the effective running of the railroads and manned by just two men each working twelve hour shifts. The splendidly-named, Rockliffe Fellowes plays one of those “Tower Men”, Dave Taylor, whose wife Sally (Virginia Valli of Wild Oranges and The Pleasure Garden fame) and young lad Sonny (Frankie Darro) live in an idyllic wooden house near the tower – three miles from the nearest town.

Dave’s partner Old Bill (James O. Barrows) is indeed old and one-handed and so is replaced by Joe Standish (Wallace Beery) a man who’s flash suit and polished shoes mark him out as self-obsessed from the start and who is referred to as a “railroad Sheik” by one of the company’s engineers.

Dave lets Joe take over old Bill’s old room and he soon sets his sights on Sally even though her cousin Gertie (Dot Farley) initially acts as a kind of shield for his unabashed “sheik-ness”. Sally sends Gertie away to pay more attention to her fiancé unwittingly removing her own last line of defence… Joe soon makes his move and Dave kicks him out…

A storm is brewing though and as events take a serious turn on the mountain, Joe arrives late and drunk in the heart of a crisis – forcing Dave to choose between Sally’s safety and his responsibilities to protect the passengers. In the wind and rain the family pull together as the tension bore down on the audience… we applauded long and loud relief expressed clearly in every clap of hands.

Wallace Beery and Virginia Valli

Beery does his usual top notch job – his intensity belying his lighter, more likeable edge whilst Valli was the perfect complement, resolution that cuts through febrile emotional response. Rockliffe Fellowes is the perfect heroic straight man to the chaos all around whilst young Darro plays well aided and abetted by Jitney the Dog.

A massive tip of the hat to cinematographer Ben F. Reynolds who had previously worked on Greed – no higher recommendation is necessary.

Jitney the Dog is on the right.

On the under card were a trio of curios from Mr Brownlow’s celluloid cellar… which broadly matched the themes of the main film.

First up was a British pastoral documentary A Day with the Gypsies (1920) directed and photographed by Cecil Hepworth. The film was a little treat featuring some lovely shots of twenties Sussex countryside although the location is uncertain and so felt they saw Kent?

A John Ford film was next, a confusing comedy called By Indian Post (1919) in which a love letter from gets stolen from Jode MacWilliams (famous Irish-American cowboy actor Pete Morrison) by a fellow ranch hand and only arrives at its intended target with the help of a native American called Two Horns much to the delight of intended target Peg Owens (Magda Lane).

The prelims were concluded with breathless final reel of The Lucky Devil (1925) featuring Richard Dix racing car number 13 to victory in a wacky race of relentless pace…  John Sweeney accompanied all three and may well have broken the speed limit on this last film.

Another splendid Wednesday evening in Kennington and, whilst here's a rough copy of The Signal Tower on Youtube and a cheap DVD available from Alpha on Amazon - neither will compare to seeing the film projected on screen...

Bitter sweet… Wild Oranges (1924)

What was King Vidor's agenda? Raymond Durgnat and Scott Simmon make much of the director’s Christian Science background in their book King Vidor, American; his work the result of a constant struggle between the films he wanted to make and the need to produce popular product.

Wild Oranges (1924), like The Sky Pilot (1922) may well be one of those films were he smuggled in more meaning than was apparent to his paymasters at Goldwyn Pictures – something which pointed the way to more philosophical fare such as The Big Parade and, especially, The Crowd.

Frank Mayo

It tells of one man’s reaction to chance and the decisions he wrestles with in the seductive heat of South Georgia, the old South, shrouded in cloying strands of over-growth, animalistic passion and primal fears.

The music of chance...

The story begins with what now might be described as a Paul Auster moment: a scrap of newspaper is blowing innocuously across a dirt road, what’s that got to do with the price of oranges the audience asks until the horses pulling a passing trap are distracted and bolt pulling their passengers along a break-neck speed… and so it proves as the vehicle spins round a corner sending its passenger to her death on the ground.

Her husband rushes top his wife’s aid but it’s too late: she is gone… just like that leaving a hole in her husband’s heart he never expects to fill again.

Two men and a boat

Three years pass and the man, John Woolfolk (Frank Mayo) has been sailing the World with only his right hand man Paul Halvard (Ford Sterling) for company. He never feels compelled to set down roots and travels on in the hope of never meeting Love again.

On to a Georgian shoreline well off the beaten track and with a tricky approach over fast moving shallow waters: the perfect place to get lost and the perfect place to run aground…

So far so sad but what awaits is something else… An old man (Nigel De Brulier), looks on in rising panic, a victim of congenital anxiety but still shell-shocked by the civil war fought two generations before.

The locals spy the unwanted visitors

A disheveled giant of  a man, Iscah Nicholas (Charles A. Post) also regards the boat in the harbour with fear – his mind even more clouded than the old man’s and with a darker secret that gives him more rational basis for concern.

From the boat, John spies a woman swimming and it turns out not to be Delores del Rio taking an early dip but Virginia Valli… John looks on through binoculars and no doubt reminds himself of his vow to keep on moving.

Vidor was an advocate of the filming of wild swimming

But the boat needs water and John ventures to land where he is captivated by the scent of oleanders and orange blossoms. He walks through the fruit trees encroaching all-round the once grand old house and stops to try some of the fruit… “Wild oranges – at first surprisingly bitter, but after a moment pungent and zestful with a never-to-be-forgotten flavour.”

He meets Millie (Virginia Valli) – the old man of the house’s granddaughter – who whilst she has inherited his timidity still has a clear and open mind: she can grow beyond the confines of the twisted plantation perhaps.

She and John talk and she reveals that she’s never left their land even though she’s read of the wider world… there’s a spark between the two and one that unsettles both John and the watching Iscah.

The next morning Iscah plays a mean game with Millie carrying her to the swamp where he perches her on a tree stump surrounded by alligators: he won’t release her until she agrees to a kiss. His only hold on her is through fear and the physical dominance he exerts.

Insert snappy caption here

But there are challenges to come as after chasing Paul away from collecting water with a knife, John returns to lay down the law: “don’t get me started… “ repeats Iscah to which John invites him to “start anytime he likes…” Iscah is finally meeting his match and he doesn’t know what to do.

Meanwhile Millie is lured by the promise of John’s boat and rows out for a trip which both thrills and then unnerves her… something had tied her to this land and she won’t easily be cut free.

Free all at sea

Things get darker on their return as her fears over Iscah are realised when he rushes at John with his knife… Millie throws her hands up expecting the worst only for John to easily disarm the younger, bigger but untrained man: he kicks his bottom (as I believe the American parlance has it?) as he throws the knife in the water.

But things are coming to a head and it’s not just Iscah who is losing his; John is getting too close to Millie and needs to make his escape. He cannot be unfaithful to the memory of his wife and he fears for the unlimited pain that the commitment of love can bring…

He points the yacht out to sea and looks to be on his way but as he steers in the dark he has visions of Millie; their potential happiness calling him back…

Meanwhile life is getting a whole lot more uncomfortable for Millie as Iscah proposes in his terrifying way and she only narrowly escapes his assault by blockading herself in her room… All is set for a mighty conflagration and, without giving anything away, Vidor sets up one of the most exhausting and convincing fights to the death you’ll see in silent film… it’s desperate stuff as every man, woman and dog are taken to the limits.

"Don't get me started..." "You can start anytime..."

Wild Oranges is in many ways a simple film but it benefits from this focus: five actors, a dog and two crocodiles… the confines of the boat, the decaying house and the physical constraints of the over-bearing local air, suffused with a musky fragrance that must affect the senses every bit as much as the heat.

John W. Boyle’s cinematography helps to capture this feel whilst Vidor and his editors keep the action at Southern Gothic pace – I was reminded of Mary Pickford’s superb Sparrows from 1926 which is a better film but who knows, Miss P may have seen this one?

I watched the Warner Archives DVD which comes with a splendid new score from Vivek Maddala which moves well with the storyline without overwhelming it as orchestral updates can sometimes do. Maddala’s pacing is bang on and really does catch the southern climes, the eerie warmth of the breeze and the fragrance of those bitter-sweet wild oranges.

The disc is available direct from the WB Shop or from Amazon.  

The first born… The Pleasure Garden (1925)

Hitchcock’s maiden solo flight appropriately enough kicked off the BFI’s second season of the restored “Hitchcock Nine”, a year after the new prints made their debut. This was the first time I had seen The Pleasure Garden and the restoration was superb as was the  spritely musical accompaniment from Stephen Horne, straight from the SF Silent Film Festival – the hardest-working man in silent-show business?

Based on the book by Oliver Sandys, and a screenplay from Eliot Stannard, The Pleasure Garden displays its director’s enduring fascination with theatrical sleaze and the troubling relationship between the watcher and the watched… Filmed in 1925 and first screened in Germany, The Pleasure Garden didn’t get a UK release until 1926 after the success of The Lodger. Even Hitch had to pay his dues.

The film opens with a chorus line dashing down a spiral staircase in a blur of energised costumery... They pile onto stage where they are ogled by a front row full of men in formal evening dress. The camera moves along the row revelling in their gaze, their faces contorted in lustful appreciation, and coming to an abrupt halt with a young woman bored to sleep… This may be a comment on the weak-minded lasciviousness of male cinema goers, but Hitch still shows us the legs…and we still watch.
 

Virginia Valli disapproves...

The focus returns to linger on one excited individual who stares intently on the legs of one girl in particular… Noticing, she darts him an eyes-wide angry glance – but he’s too carried away to take heed.

It’s a great opening and, as critic Dave Kehr has noted, something like a "clip reel of Hitchcock motifs to come"…. there would be many more stages, old-age oglers and blonde dancing girls.

The limbs in question belong to chorus girl Patsy Brand (Virginia Valli) a girl with a heart of gold who soon comes to the aid of Jill Cheyne (Carmelita Geraghty) a middle class girl who wants a short-cut to the front of stage. Jill’s purse is robbed and she loses her money and letter of introduction but Patsy takes her in and the two start to share her Brixton bedsit.

Here we find two of Hitch’s soon-to-be-stock working class characters, Mr and Mrs Sidey played by Ferdinand Martini and Florence Helminger… neither of whom sound like they frequent the Ritzy! Both perform wonderful cameos, especially Martini with his malfunctioning crystal set and headphones.

Naturally they have a dog, Cuddles, who is a tremendously good judge of character. Jill’s fiancé, Hugh (John Stuart), arrives and is greeted like an old friend whilst his partner in colonial business, Leyet (the marvellously malevolent Miles Mander) is growled at.

Carmelita Geraghty and Karl Falkenberg

The two head off to the Orient (it’s never made clear where) and Hugh leaves Patsy promising to look after the pushy but scatty Jill who has started to impress at the theatre (the Pleasure Garden of the title).

But things start to fall apart, including the plot which meanders for too long as Jill plays around with bearded Prince Ivan (Karl Falkenberg) and Patsy somehow allows herself to get married to Leyet. The two honeymoon by Lake Como and there are some sumptuous shots from cameraman Gaetano di Ventimiglia but their relationship never convinces and it’s not clear why Levet wants the marriage… some twisted idea of love perhaps or is just there to supply the bad?

Leyet heads off to the east leaving Patsy increasingly unable to curtail Jill who hoards money whilst refusing to lend a hand when Patsy wants to visit her supposedly ill new husband (his excuse for not writing backfires…).

The unknown swimmer...

The narrative now gathers more cohesion as the characters head for dramatic – if predictable - collision. Patsy borrows money from her lahverly landlords and arrives just in time to see Leyet in the arms of a native girl (actress unknown but definitely not Nita Naldi!)… In a daze, Patsy finds Hugh and starts to nurse him but it seems that the crazed Levet is not finished with her.

In what one can only describe as an ‘orribly Hitchcock-ian moment, Leyet swims out to sea to great his girlfriend and then as you think they are to embrace, plunges her head underwater... It is a genuinely shocking moment, well-rendered and a reminder of his later, more unpleasant, work.

Will Leyet get away with it or will Patsy find true love with Hugh and, will we ever find out what happens to the needy-greedy Jill?

The restoration of the film is another superb job from the BFI, and resulted from intensive interweaving of four separate prints from what was identified as the same negative. The film is someway longer than the most commonly seen versions yet whilst this is a significant British silent film, this reveals some pacing issues as well as weaknesses in story logic. That said, there are also a number of bravura moments and Miles Mander is such an absolute cad!

Miles Mander: a bounder

With the originally run of the “Nine”, the BFI had fun by using a range of musical accompaniments, from orchestral to modern jazz, IDM/techno and even beatbox. Tonight’s performance gave Mr Horne the chance to show what a specialist could do and his playing was as quicksilver and emotionally sure-footed as we’ve come to expect.

He played piano – keys and strings – flute and accordion and, disconcertingly, sometimes at least two at once.  This is all the more remarkable when you consider that his music is improvised, making the lyrical connection with narrative tone all the more noteworthy: it’s one thing to walk the tightrope whilst juggling and quite another to do it playing so well!

The Hitchcock silent series runs throughout August at the BFI and The Farmers Wife is next up for me.

So far only the restored Lodger has seen release on Blu-ray/DVD but it appears that a Pleasure Garden DVD with Daniel Patrick Cohen's soundtrack may be in the works? It would be good to have Stephen Horne's music on there too.