Wednesday, 15 June 2016

Primal queen… Gertrude – The Cry, Theatre N16, Balham



“The cry isn’t in you; it’s outside you…” exclaims Claudius who earlier on had talked of the religion of his lover’s sexuality. Gertrude is a force of nature and this richly-textured play is in raptures about the language and the act of sex, love and bloody life.

This is a revival of Howard Barker’s extraordinary play which had its world premiere in the great hall of Elsinore Castle, a building Barker’s Hamlet wants to rebuild in glass so that there are no hidden corners for secrets or smuggled meanings.

Here Gertrude’s loyal servant, Cancan (Stephen Oswald) talks of walking the maze – a maze of meaning? This is one where I need to write carefully: I’m out of my depth and to paraphrase this Hamlet: “there are things in this World I don’t understand but others understand them entirely…” I think this is a play you need to see twice: the first time to allow the full visceral force of the ferocious performance and the second to pick the bones from Barker’s labyrinthine word-play.


In this respect, there are similarities with Tom Stoppard’s expansion of two characters from the same play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Stoppard looked for meaning in the lives of two plot devices who are stuck in an existential spiral as helpless as the coins they toss to alter the course of their lives whilst Barker has a freer approach in seeking out the motivations of Gertrude: the mother who so bewildered her son in marrying his father’s brother so soon after his father’s untimely death. But his approach is more counter-factual: what if…?

No time is lost in the revelation of the nature of Hamlet senior’s death and his widow-to-be’s role in it...I had always read it that Claudius was the ambition and the cruel drive but here it is not so: he is in thrall to a higher power and that is Gertrude herself.

Theatre N16 is an intimate space and the audience was left reeling by the opening moves as the sexually-charged coupling of Gertrude (Izabella Urbanowitz) and Claudius (Alexander Hulme) indulge in murder as erotic sport, poisoning their man before stripping off and consecrating their transgressive love on his dying body. A few hours before I’d been stuck in a particularly dull spreadsheet, but all thoughts of budgeting were blown away never to return for the rest of the evening: nothing was held back – this was a crime of passion in every sense.

A new look at the King and his stolen Queen...
The relationship between Gertrude and Claudius explodes the original characterisation to present a couple deeply in lust and driven by a primal urge to succeed, to live and to rule: their bond based on boundless sexual fascination.                                

The body of his father springs up to be revealed as Hamlet (Jamie Hutchins) who declared himself surprised at not feeling “it” more… he imagines he will grieve later; his mind a maze and his speech always obfuscating meaning, this Hamlet is  already playing the fool – a figure of unknown capacity and uncertain threat to the royal couple. People always give the Prince a hard time for his hesitations but in this psychotic environment how else could he survive?

Cascan and Isola
Other players emerge, Claudius’s mother Isola (Liza Keast) who begs Gertrude to leave her one son, knowing how destructive such a woman can be, having perhaps been one herself. She is Gertrude in thirty years having survived the ravages of rule with delicate cunning and feminine power of her own.

She chides Gertrude’s mourning skirt as being too short whilst admiring her long legs – she is always dueling with meaning and careful feminine challenge. But this is Gertrude’s hour and, power coursing through her; she encourages Claudius to perform another transgressive, and very public, display of affection at the funeral.

Ragusa's controlled tie-backs are replaced by a tousled rage of red hair by the end
Hamlet’s sort-of girlfriend, Ragusa (LJ Reeves, whose red hair becomes almost a character in itself as her narrative develops…) is surprised at how this family speaks so forcefully true – there is little time for mourning and even love and always they act impulsively, even Hamlet, shockingly in the end… his soliloquies more circular and to the point than in Shakespeare: in musical terms this is not pastoral-progressive- folk but punk – a cry of truth with no bushes beaten...

Hamlet not worrying about the sleep of death
Cascan provides a commentary on proceedings and Stephen Oswald’s Scottish burr grounds the words in sinister reality – Elsinore is a harsh place much like our own. He is fiercely loyal to his Queen bound to her as much as any man by his own form of love.

Claudius seeks his counsel, struggling to understand how, so soon after their exultant victory, he no longer hears Gertrude’s “cry”… has her passion out-matched his? He is blown away by the force of her and kindly love is not what she needs.

Hamlet’s friend, Albert of Mecklenburgh (David Zachary) attracts Gertrude's attention and is willing to reciprocate as deeply as physicality will allow. His is still a youth and she is now pregnant but they find an erotic approach that feels like more like a negotiation than sex.

The younger man stakes his claim to passion
Perhaos the cry is for survival as much as for the affirmation of life (and sex) and in such a febrile environment survival is in flux and characters die in the matter-of-fact ways of a war – animals in the grip of forces they hardly comprehend.

It’s a wildly-thought-provoking ride and one of the most audience-challenging productions I’ve seen: no one feels safe in this space and you cannot fail to be engaged as you respond to the emotional exposure and devastating betrayals in close-proximity.

Has Albert the power to match Gertrude's desire?
Chris Hislop directs with chilling assurance and brings out the best of his extraordinary players. Izabella Urbanowitz gives her all as a regally-raunchy Gertrude for whom Nature no doubt is her goddess whilst Alexander Hulme’s Claudius is her equal and yet, held back by his own manhood, he cannot, finally, keep pace.

You have to see it. I doubt there’s a more incendiary play anywhere in London.

The show was produced by Andrea Leoncini and Jamie Eastlake for LWL Investments & Entertainment Ltd and Theatre N16 as part of Shakespeare 400. Ticket details are here - just three stops from Victoria - it's at the famous Bedford public house - historical home of alternative comedy and the darker elements of South London entertainments...


Thursday, 9 June 2016

Blood, Brutes and Black Bess – Kevin Brownlow’s Vitagraph home movies, Kennington Bioscope


It’s some kind of summer now: the start of the festival season and the Bioscope responded in its unique way with eight films in three hours. Our host Kevin Brownlow wanted to fit in another but most of us had homes to go to.

What we saw was a collection of 9.5mm prints intended for home viewing and which featured condensed versions of their source material ranging from one to three reels from the Vitagraph Company of America. Even stripped of their establishing narrative these films still made sense and were still impactful not least because of some spectacular action including horses racing a steam engine, cowboys, a steam engine ploughing through a forest fire and what looked like a full-scale sea battle.

But we also had Colleen Moore’s unique energy, Victor McLaglen’s physicality and a host of stars with successful careers and who should be better recalled: Irene Rich, J. Warren Kerrigan, Warren Baxter…

The latest in home projection technology!
In order to present these frail wonders on a large screen they had to be projected onto a small screen and fed through the digital projector at the Cinema Museum. The projectionist worked wonders, stopping the frames so the audience could read the intertitles and making running repairs when the celluloid snapped: hats off to Dave Locke who performed his usual wonders.

Black Bess/Black Beauty (1921) accompaniment by Costas Fotopulas

Jean Paige, Dobbin and James Morrison
Starring Jean Paige – later wife of this film’s director, David Smith – as Jessie and James Morrison as hero Harry, this film featured a stunning horse race at the climax as Harry rides the much-travelled black steed across country to outwit the baddie Jack (George Webb) and his inferior horse(-manship).

It’s exciting stuff and even with the under-cranking, showed immense courage from the riders as the race each other over field and fence in order to catch a steam engine.

The Ninety and Nine (1922) accompaniment by Meg Morley


This was Colleen pre-bob and Flaming Youth but she still presents with her trademark endeavour and pure focus even in a film described as “old school” by one contemporary review.

Colleen plays Ruth, whose parents have her lined up for a clearly unsuitable cheater when she, naturally enough, prefers the young and virile Tom (Warner Baxter). The bad suitor tries to fit the more deserving with a cheap charge of theft – employing the local “poor half-wit” to place Father’s wallet in an incriminating suitcase. But Warner’s too quick and stops the con chasing the boy off – not that this stops him being accused by parents who decide that it’s best for Ruth to go away to Forest Hill.

There’s a forest fire on that Hill though and only one man can save the day by driving a train into the heart of the heat…

On the Banks of the Wabash (1924) accompaniment by Cyrus Gabrysch


This was seven reels chopped down to two and there was just enough to capture some good interplay between a young inventor, David (James Morrison) and Dolly (a young Madge Evans who was later to feature in the excellent Dinner at Eight). David has invented a revolutionary device to radio control boats and this almost leads him astray before steadfast Dolly shows him the value of real love.

There is an impressive sequence involving a flood and a rescue from a Mississippi river boat as David’s threatens to cost him everything…

The Man from Brodneys (1923) accompaniment by John Sweeney


Kevin quoted a scathing review from Picture Play which described the audience on this film’s Broadway presentation as being “exceptionally impolite” but we’re a lot more forgiving with a film we’re almost certain never to see in its full form.

What’s left showed a British colonial outpost under attack from scheming “Hindoos” and whilst the mind inevitably conjured up the closing scenes from Carry on up the Khyber, there was some impressive action as the plucky Brits enlisted the help of the exceptionally convenient and well-armed US Navy to win the day!

J. Warren Kerrigan stars as Hollingsworth Chase – we’ll see more of him in a while – along with Wanda Hawley as Lady Agnes Deppingham (not the Deptford Deppingham’s the other lot… the ones in the country) and Alice Calhoun as Princess Genevra.

No doubt Boris would have just loved it!

Behold This Woman (1924) accompaniment from Costas Fotopoulos

This featured Irene Rich as film star Louise Maurel who falls for John Strangeway (Charles A. Post) a lunk of a backwoods boy after her car breaks down in the middle of nowhere – there are no hotels and she has to stay with him and his backwards misogynist father. John follows her to California and glimpses another world in which his now-hipster beard must be trimmed to help fit him in.

There were some fascinating glimpses of period Hollywood as the two attempted to make the bridge between Tinsel Town and Country.  Marguerite De La Motte is also in it and we’ll see her again in a moment.

The Clean Heart (1924) accompaniment from Meg Morley


This was a strange tale involving Philip (Manhunt’s Percy Marmont) working himself into a nervous breakdown and finding solace in the arms of the aforementioned Marguerite as Essie Bickers. As with all these “small” versions you wonder not only how much concrete meaning has been lost in the picture play precis but also how the story itself has been changed.

This seem to be going fine for Philip and Essie until they enter a scenic thatched cottage and suddenly their relationship seems to advance from dreamy to divorce in seconds, as if the building was haunted by past traumas… Then we have drama!

Captain Blood (1924) accompaniment from Cyrus Gabrysch


The film was based on the novel, Captain Blood, His Odyssey, by Rafael Sabatini and was Vitagraph’s biggest success costing a fortune with what look very much like actual, near-full-size galleons sinking, engaging in battle and being blown up in spectacular fashion.

It also featured some rare Brownlow Benshi as KB translated French intertitles using a discrete light pen – all adding to the feeling that we really were being treated to some rare views.

Of the 110 minute original only these 30 minutes survive and we’re lucky to have those.


David Smith directs again and Jean Paige stars again as Arabella Bishop who is surely too good for the bold neo-pirate that is Peter Blood who is secretly a qualified physician! The studio held a ballot for their audience to nominate who should play Blood and Smith was distraught when our old pal J. Warren Kerrigan – remember him from paragraph three? – got the gig: he wasn’t a fan. But JWK does well as the dandy sea-way man…

There’s a huge amount of dramatic doings as you’d expect but whoever edited this all down left in sufficient humiliation of pompous British imperialists and magnificent sailing ships to keep me happy: a grand, albeit mini, adventure!

Big film, massive crew!
As The Screen review said: “Youngsters who revel in the ruddy activities of seventeenth century pirates, will find plenty to think and dream about in this picture.” Count me young then! They went on to find various faults including that “Miss Paige… is a very quiet little lady, intent on showing her profile… She has little real opportunity to act, and is only pretty.”

Best of all: “Charlotte Merriam's eyebrows are of an up-to-date variety, which we might hazard did not exist in those turbulent times.” People: always make sure your eyebrows are up-to-date!

Charlotte's are up-to-date but I'm not sure about Warren's!

The Beloved Brute (1924) accompanied by John Sweeney

A brother from the same mother...
Time was running out but it was decided to end with the bang and crash of Victor McLaglen’s Hollywood debut!

As Mr Mordaunt Hall wrote in his New York Times review: “Although Mr. McLaglen facially is no Ramon Novarro, Ronald Colman or a Rudolph Valentino, he has a sympathetic personality and a wonderful facility for appearing at ease before the inquiring eye of the camera.”

And it’s true, Victor shines on screen with a tremendous charisma which completely overshadows his boxer’s nose - in 1909 at Vancouver fought six rounds with Jack Johnson – he is a heck of a performer who appears to have hit the ground running in this “western with a soul”.

Marguerite De La Motte
Directed by Vitagraph mainstay, J. Stuart Blackton, the sequences we have showed an intense story of brothers lost and found but only after bare-chested wrestling – Charles (Victor) – who does know - letting David (William Russell) - who doesn’t – win.

The two then contest a battle over dancer in search of a better life, Jacinta (Marguerite De La Motte yet again, not that anyone was complaining) - who proved more than capable of looking after herself. Dynamic fun and you just wished there was more: but if this is all we have... that is so much better than nothing!

Yeah, you heard, six rounds with Johnson!
In the end we ran out of time and Kevin promised we’d all meet again for further films. Yes, let’s do this again!

A huge tip of a Ten-Gallon Hat to the Bioscope’s superb musicians too without whom we’d only have half a show – you can find out more about them on the Bioscope site: a remarkable ensemble who play all of the right notes always in the right order, even when faced with unknown films, celluloid snaps and cruel cuts in the action.

This was another special cinema club evening at the Cinema Museum and you know the first rule of Cinema Club is that no one should talk about Cinema Club: but you simply have to!

Friday, 3 June 2016

Art for art’s sake? L'Homme du Large (1920)


This film is based on a story by Honoré de Balzac and it’s interesting to compare with Victor Sjostrom’s treatment of a poem from Henrik Ibsen on a similar theme, Terje Vigen. There’s only three years between these two films which both have grizzled old sailors and a flashback structure explaining how they came to be so old and cold; locked to the rocks, eyes gazing ever seaward… Yet whereas the Swedish film is action-oriented and rugged, the French story is more mood-driven – the former turning poetry into adventure-narrative and the latter interpreting prose as poetry.

French cinematic impressionism… a loose movement including Gance and Germaine Dulac as well as L’Herbier, who all wanted cinema to make the most of its potential as an art in itself and not rely on literature, art and other disciplines and Marcel’s approach was to take from these others what his cinema needed in order to create something new: something musical.

Roger Karl
L'Homme du Large (Man of the Sea) is reputedly L’Herbier’s first major film – the earliest I’ve seen is his next but one, the splendid Eldorado – and it feels like it with a firm hand on the narrative tiller and elaborate title cards that show his interest in multi-media expression. This is a lot more deliberately artful than Terje Vigen but it’s not the better film, even though it is a very interesting one…

There’s plentiful use of cross-fades and double exposure as the director moves his characters’ thoughts around with measured assurance. He partly covers the lens to highlight a boat or a stroppy teen before revealing the full shot and frames his main performers centre screen as they experience the sea or the joy of a carnival. A split screen emphasises the different upbringings of a brother and sister whilst each has their own title card background – the boy a swirl of turbulent waters and the girl a floral illustration illustrating her qualities of unconditional love.

Siblings (and screen) split by parental expectation
To a polymath such as L’Herbier – trained lawyer, musician, playwright and poet – this all made perfect sense and his willingness to push the figurative boat out still wins over the battle-scared silent film viewer; this being the second time in a month I’ve felt the tears well upwatching a sea song…

The story begins with the dramatic appearance of Nolff (Roger Karl) a man in retreat from the human world, feared by his nearest neighbours and who has built his house on rocks far away from human safety – all the better to look at the sea: a force not of nature but of God in which he has entrusted his life. He speaks to no one, maintaining his unknowable vigil and yet a woman in white – a nun – walks through the village and towards him…


The screen blurs (a device he will use often in Eldorado) and the greying old man is now seen in his youthful vigour returning from a fishing trip to greet his wife (Claire Prélia), daughter and his new baby boy. He takes the boy and holds him up to the sea: a blessing, a baptism and a promise that one day he will work the waves in the same way as his father.

The boy, named Michel, grows up under his father’s guidance to become Jaque Catelain whilst his sister, Djenna, guided by her mother’s more enriching and compassionate hand, is Marcelle Pradot. Michel is a sneak and, given too much credit by his father, has grown with no moral compass – which is, yes, a poor state of affairs for a sailor. But, more than anything, Michel is repulsed by The Sea and recoils from the very thought that he might follow in his father’s footsteps.

"A life on the ocean wave!"
Michel is far more interested in the world of men and longs to explore the adult pleasures of the city encouraged by his ne'er-do-well mate, Guenn-la-Taupe (played by an impressive newcomer, Charles Boyer, who I predict will be a major star).

Matters come to a head at Easter as the family prepares for the service and the fair Michel and his pal plan to hit the town and visit the club at which actress-dancer-escort Lia (Suzanne Doris) will be performing: a faraway look in Michel’s eyes pictures both the lads looking on as Lia reclines…

Pictures of Lia... Guenn-la-Taupe and MIchel imagine...
Djenna arrives to try and persuade Michel to join them but he only turns up later immediately in search of a sub from his tolerant father. At the fair Djenna dances with a handsome sailor whilst mother persuades Michel to dance with her. She has a dizzy turn and falls and yet, as the family care for her, Michel is dragged away by Guenn-la-Taupe – he is weak and the lure of Lia is just too much even if he does sneak a peek from on high to make sure his mother is alright.

Easter Parade
Yet Mother is far from alright and is seriously unwell: the story comes to boiling point over a fraught section in which L’Herbier cuts repeatedly from his mother’s distressed state to Michel’s drunken adventures in the club. It’s a very effective juxtaposition which brings home the enormity of Michel’s betrayal and, as he gets drunker and chaos descends, things are about to get worse…


As she pleads for her son to return Djenna goes to fetch him but as soon as he has agreed to leave and come home he is persuaded by Lia to stay… On a promise Michel chances his hand as Lia’s lover dozes in alcoholic stupor only to be waken as the young man makes his move… there’s a fight and in a flash Michel stabs him.

Michel sees red...
Spoilers…

Nolff has also spent the night away and returns from fishing to learn the news – he bails Michel out but by the time they get home, mother has died…

Now, you’d think this would be a sobering lesson to the lad but it’s not long before he’s stealing the money left for his sister in order to buy some time with Lia. Nolff discovers this and after a furious chase… drags his son home to discover the full, devastating depth of his betrayal.


What is there left but to let The Sea decide on Michel’s fate: his father binds him in a net and casts him adrift aboard a small rowing boat soon lost in the waves… Is that the end of things only the woman in white holds the answer as we turn full circle and the beginning is revealed by the ending.

Summary…

L'Homme du large is full of lovely images and well-constructed visual continuity with cinematographer George Lucas working some intricate contrasts between light and shade as well as capturing the harsh majesty of the Brittany coastline.

Charles Boyer and Jaque Catelain
L’Herbier was to work with both Jaque Catelain and Marcelle Pradot many times: the later becoming his wife and the former a collaborator (co-editing here) as much as a performer. I find Catelain an odd presence sometimes, his boyish features so unusual for a leading man – being in the same frame as Charles Boyer doesn’t help – but he works well in his director’s world.

Roger Karl has an epic face that expresses monumental emotions whilst remaining as enigmatic as the ocean – his character’s masculinity undermined by pride and the inflexibility of those who have seen only their way work. What else could he have done for his son?


The film is available as part of a compelling “twofer” pack from Gaumont including Eldorado and is essential if you like French silent style with its pretentions and careful artistry. It comes with a fresh orchestral score composed Antoine Duhamel that may or may not contain elements of La Mer and which matches the film’s beats impressively throughout.  It’s available direct/via FNAC or from Amazon.

God's in there somewhere
Claire Prélia and  Marcelle Pradot
George Lucas' delicate contrasts
Michel hides from his family
Charles looks cool
Djenna's future is foreshadowed
A den and some rather unusual iniquity...