Dogs and Alligators… Kennington Bioscope Silent Weekender 2018, Day One

There’s a grand tradition of animal acting at the Bioscope and this third silent “weekender” carried this on in some style: two different dogs, a host (a “pool”?) of alligators as well as hair: not a hare, just hair but it’s close enough for my quality control.

Day One also featured maestro John Sweeney playing for four programmes and largely for films he hadn’t seen; the fact that he played four completely different and yet seamlessly compelling improvised scores says it all. It is not possible to take this for granted, and I am applauding as I type: bravo Mr Sweeney!

A candid shot on the set of Where the North Begins...

Where the North Begins (USA 1923), with John Sweeney

I’m not that big on dog-led features, the scars of Disney’s Old Yeller run deep; borderline child cruelty in my book from a company clearly with form (c.f. Bambi and many more…) but Rin Tin Tin is a German Shepherd with attitude and the fine-chiselled profile of a classic leading hound.

Directed by Chester M. Franklin, Where the North Begins, features many heroic moments from the dog du jour including wolf-battling, taking down obvious wrong-uns, even if they escape and an astonishing range of learned behaviours. This dog not only works out that humans are his friends and not the wolves he was raised by, he also calculates the correct speed and trajectory to leap through a window in order to save innocents from bad-guy assault.

The film was projected from a gorgeous tinted Kodascope print and was very enjoyable including fine performances from human side-kicks Claire Adams and Fred Huntley and some excellent hand-held camerawork showing sleigh rides, men on horseback and more. Abel Gance (probably) was going to cast a Golden Retriever in Napoleon but the insurance premiums were prohibitive, and a suitable fee could not be arranged with the dog’s people…

Nice hair... Gertrud Welcker

Die Geliebte Tote (When the Dead Are Living Again) (Germany 1919)

This film featured Gertrud Welcker in three and possibly four roles and Director Erwin Báron as a man who just can’t get her hair out of his head.

It’s pretty rum I have to say but striking all the same. Based on an 1893 novel by George Roenbach it became an opera and then finally a film. There may be elements missing but what we have is early-Weimar Gothic which mixes the real with the dreamt.

Axel Törnberg (Erwin Báron) is an artist visiting a fishing village where he meets and falls in love with local lass, Ingeborg Sunvall (Gertrud Welcker) who he starts to paint obsessively. Báron shows the painting as a still of Welcker which adds to the oddness: she/it looks pretty finished to me but the artist clearly thinks otherwise.

The two marry but Dagmar dies in childbirth leaving Axel distraught and hanging on to a lengthy cut of her hair as a means of maintaining their connection. Some time later he meets an opera singer who is the absolute spit of his late wife (played, naturally by Gertrud Welcker) … he starts to get her to pose as he attempts to complete the painting of Ingeborg but, now insane with jealousy as well as everything else, strangles the singer with Ingeborg’s hair.

He ends up in a lunatic asylum for ten years where – and it might be just me on this – one of the burses also looks a lot like Ingeborg/Opera singer. If true, this will not be the last role played by the hard-working Gertrud in a story that questions the nature of Alex’s reality and much more besides.

Is this the real life or is it just fantasy…? I’m not sure but I enjoyed every Germanic moment and Mr Sweeney took it all in his inimitable stride.

Guy Newall worries about his looks.

The Garden of Resurrection (UK 1919) with John Sweeney

It was time for a British silent film, this one directed by Arthur Rooke and starring Guy Newall and Ivy Duke. Guy was a witness at Maurice Elvey’s wedding, according to Elvey-expert Dr Lucie Dutton, proving the rule of Three Degrees of Maurice Elvey and the close links of the domestic scene were every bit as close as in the US or Sweden. A tight-knit group that produced increasingly-worthwhile films despite the War and competition from abroad.

Dr Lawrence Napper, author and Senior Lecturer in Film Studies at Kings College London is another champion of British silent film and he introduced this deliberate but highly enjoyable tale of renewal. As with the German film, the immense backstory of the Great War cannot be ignored and here was another character in search of new belief.

A contemporary review in the Hawick News and Border Chronicle was enthused, describing the film as … something more than entertainment. It is a restorative, perhaps a cure, for people who have lost faith in human kindness, who are ready to believe that all life is ugly.

The lead character, Bellairs (played by Guy Newall) is convinced that he is ugly and heads off to Ballysheen in Ireland to “recuperate” with his dog (played superbly by Newall’s actual dog) who, unlike the more physically-showy Rin Tin Tin, gets his own intertitles meaning that we see his thoughts!

Despite this load of old Bonio, the story is essentially serious as Bellairs becomes fascinated by a woman of mixed race, Clarissa (Ivy Duke) who is held virtual prisoner by her mean aunts who are ensuring she falls victim to Cruickshank (Franklin Dyall) a fortune hunter. Clarissa won’t believe in Bellairs’ warnings and even calls him ugly – which the truth can be more than the man perhaps.

There’s some great scenery with Cornwall doubling for Ireland and once again John Sweeney played a blinder. Humberson Wright also popped up as the local bore, desperate to tell anyone about Queen Victoria’s visit whether they want to hear it or not.

Newall and Duke were very much the Beckhams of their day with Dr Napper venturing that nowadays they’d be concatenated to “Guvy”: I think that one’s got to stick, don’t you?

We watched a 16mm print from the BFI National Archive and the screening was enabled with support from the AHRC project ‘British Silent Cinema and the Transition to Sound’ and of the British Silent Film Festival. This is a skip year for that Festival but this entertaining film gave me wistful thoughts of Leicester 2019. Roll on…

The Mighty Pearl White

Pearl White: A Cliffhanging Life, presented by Glenn Mitchell and Michael Pointon.

“You want some pluck? You can’t handle the pluck!” as Jack Nicholson has not so far said to his President… We have #fakenews but you simply can’t #fakeperformers like Pearl White.

Now Pearl’s a swinger and she’s frequently damned with the faint praise of being “plucky” but this hard-working, chance-taking gal worked her chances well and did most of her own stunts inspiring the likes of Lloyd and Keaton when they could only dream of her success.

Glenn Mitchell and Michael Pointon took turns in relating Pearl’s story whilst Mr Sweeney accompanied the clips. Pearl’s real name was White, Pearl White and she was a genuine phenomenon we should treasure what remains of her startling legacy even whilst wishing there could be more. She seemed very smart, beautiful and adventurous and it’s fascinating how her fame came at this point in history.

The suffrage movement was undoubtedly impressed. Reality quotient: high.

Her Night of Romance (USA 1924) with Neil Brand

Neil Brand accompanied this film – which he hadn’t seen – in the style of a Leo McCarey 1930’s screwball comedy and nailed it perfectly! There were times when I could swear I heard Ronald Coleman and Constance Talmadge talk and they were a perfect match.

It’s a close-run thing but seeing “Dutch” Talmadge (her mother thought she looked like a Dutch schoolboy… go figure?) on screen finally edged her into Number One position on the Favourite Talmadge League. That said, I’d have to see Norma’s hilarious Kiki – also with Coleman - to be conclusive.

Younger sister Constance is spell-binding in this film as is Ronald to be fair, but he doesn’t have her huge expressive eyes and comic energy. For this film she is billed as the star, but Ron’s time would come even with his markedly smaller eyes and his moustache.

She plays Dorothy Adams, unwilling heiress to daddy Samuel C. Adams’ (Albert Gran) immense fortune, who has had enough of men fancying her money and not her moxie – if that’s not rude? Enter Ronald as Paul Menford a Lord on his uppers who makes the mistake of joking with his attorney (Jean Hersholt: never joke with Jean) that he’ll give him 10% if he married her.

This is never Paul’s intention and a classic rom-com back and forth ensues. It’s made worthwhile by the excellent performances and Sidney Franklin’s smart direction: this was the feelgood hit of the day!

Sparrows (USA 1926) with Costas Fotopoulos

It was time for American Gothic, a trip to a baby farm somewhere in the swampy South for what Ernst Lubitsch described as "...one of the eight wonders of the World..."

Sparrows is influenced by European cinema – Mary and Doug had visited the UFA studios in 1925 - but was also influential with art director Harry Oliver also working on films with FW Murnau and Frank Borzage and, famously, cameramen Charles Rosher and Karl Struss both later winning Oscars for their cinematography on Sunrise.

Director William Beaudine turns Oliver’s incredible swamp-stage into a world of mysticism and dread as children on a baby farm (yes, they did exist) are abused by Gustav von Seyffertitz’ Dickensian horror, Mr Grimes a man who’s answer to most things is to just drop them in the swamp and let then be sucked into oblivion.

Mary is 34 by this point and her Molly is a child-woman grown-older though her responsibilities as de-facto mother for the unfortunate waifs around her, including babies, whereas in A Beast at Bay (1912), the DW Griffith short screened before this main feature, Mary is 20-going on 16. It’s always an issue for modern audiences but in Sparrows it’s the fear that matters. Producer Pickford knew exactly what she wanted and put Beaudine under such pressure that falling ill he could not complete with the un-credited Tom McNamara finishing off the story, no doubt with Mary’s help.

It’s a film with hidden messages and as Amran Vance pointed out in his introduction, may even provide and allegory for the repeal of slavery with, for example, the hymn in Molly’s dream of her dead baby, also featured in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Molly leads the children to safety through impossibly dangerous swampland; sinking sand and alligators added to by a mad dog and hoodlums… she may be pointing the way forward for many more.

Costas Fotopoulos played up a storm and left the audience on a high after a full day.

The only “worry” I have is that, if anything, Sunday looks even better… Bring it on!

Gypsies, tramps and arsonists… Fante-Anne (1920)

I saw this film at last year’s silent film festival in Pordenone and whilst I was impressed, it was slightly lost in the rush of Scandinavian and other silent treasures. Watching it again on this sparkling Norwegian Film Institute DVD/Blu-Ray pack, I can appreciate its strengths a lot more: superb lead performers, top-notch cinematography and location backdrops to die for.

All this you tend to take for granted with Scandi-silents, but this was the first Norwegian film to be made by entirely by Norwegians and not led by Swedes, Danes or Germans. It was also, wiki-parently, the first film to feature professional actors, in this case led by the formidably expressive Aasta Nielsen - a 23-year old theatre actor and not the Danish Asta (an extra “a”) already established as Europe’s leading lady.

Directed by Rasmus Breistein, Fante-Anne (Gypsy Anne) was based on the 1868 novel by Kristofer Janson and, like so many films of the North, attempts to recreate the rural past as accurately as possible with milk-maids, grizzly farm hands and romantic dramas set to rural rhythms.

Norway's Aasta Nielsen

It’s also a film with a message and in which the outsider, the un-belonging gypsy, has to fight for her rightful place in a society constricted by tradition and prejudice. There are similar narratives throughout the films of this period from Europe to the USA addressing class as well as race: given the view of gypsies even now, integration in straight society would be as unlikely as say marriage between the leads in Broken Blossoms or The Red Lantern. The times, they were, very slowly, a-changing and, as usual, liberal artistes were leading the way.

Anyway… what we have here is a gently gripping story of a love triangle that succeeds in the improbable task of confounding expectations in ways that reinforce the morality of the tale. It’s a little slow perhaps but so absorbing especially here with the new orchestral score from Haldor Krogh as played by the Norwegian Radio Orchestra which looms over the action like the peaks on either side of the valley in which the Storlein family farm is based.

Elsa Vang in a tree

Here a young orphaned girl Anne (Elsa Vang) is taken in and grows up like a sister to Haldor Storlein (Olaf Solberg) with farm hand Jon Sandbakken (Einar Tveito) like the father she never had. The two children play, and we see Anne quickness of thought and playfulness, Haldor the slower of the two and often the butt of her pranks and the one who gets caught when her mischiefs gets spotted.

The years pass and Haldor is now played by Lars Tvinde and Anne by Aasta Nielsen; the two youngsters are still very close and, more than that are united by un-fraternal affection which causes the young man’s mother (Johanne Bruhn) some anxiety: the girl is not from here and of unknown origin, she cannot marry her son.

Meanwhile Jon’s affection is far from paternal and he surprises Anna by asking her to marry him… Anne smiles it off, she loves Haldor and just doesn’t think of the poor Jon as anything other than the surrogate he’s always been to her.

Einar Tveito

We know this story, we think, and surely the young lovers will follow their hearts to break with the requirements of the rural social order? Haldor’s mother has other ideas and pushes her son to abandon his ideas and court more worthy women whose lineage is without question. Sure enough, after a month of not seeing Haldor as she works as a milk maid up in the hills, Anne discovers he has been seeing a wealthy farm girl, Margit Moen (Kristine Ullmo) and they are going to be wed.

This naturally pushes all of the wrong buttons for Anne, betrayed and humiliated by her life-long friend. Jon warns Haldor of what she might do but the young dunderhead has underestimated his old friend just as he always did when they were younger. Anne takes things to another level, torching the new house he has been building and as the magistrate investigates, surely there’s a high price to pay for this impulsiveness…

Anne and Haldor share a joke

But the true heart of the story is only just starting to be revealed and I won’t spoil it.

Cinematographer Gunnar Nilsen-Vig deserves credit for some stunning composition, a world of crystal clear close ups and magnificent vistas, the farmers often dwarfed by their hugely impressive surroundings. The Scandinavian films of this period had almost every other country beat in terms of the natural backdrops and they were also favoured by the light for at least part of the year. In North America you’d have to be Nell Shipman to find this kind of rugged beauty and very few had followed her example by this stage.

Aasta Nielsen is superb, amongst a very naturalistic cast and she looks very much at home with farm duties as well as the drama. Einar Tveito, who will later feature in Dreyer’s The Bride of Glomdal and many more, is also good as the love-lorn Jon who has the most complex story arc of all – the transition from “uncle” to suitor is not an easy one after all.

Fante-Anne is a “bunad” film – one that looks back to the rural tradition – but unlike most other films, it doesn’t over romanticise the period and obviously highlights the inequalities that came with it. Too often the past and costume dramas are an escape for audiences but not here, it looks nice yes, but it is not a fair society.

The Fante-Anne dual format is available through Amazon or direct from the Norwegian Film Institute – well worth your time, I mean, just look at the view.

Special relationships… Separate Tables (1958), BFI Dual Format

Featuring a mighty cast list including a host of great British character actors, Separate Tables famously saw David Niven win a long overdue Oscar and Wendy Hiller deservedly winning Best Supporting Actress. This adaptation of Terence Rattigan’s play – or rather plays – is a “home game” for the Brits and no one is over-shadowed by the glamour of Rita Hayworth or the muscularity of Burt Lancaster, strangers in this strange land of repression and ancient manners… the film was however, shot entirely in Hollywood.

In his commentary, director Delbert Mann, says that a sound stage was the only way of creating a cinematic narrative based on a play with originally just two sets: the living room and the dining room with those separate tables. Harry Horner’s innovative design used a lot of glass which not only gave an impression of the hotel space it also showed action around the characters. Even as the film begins, and the camera pulls towards the hotel, we can see the characters moving inside and, many times after this, action continues beyond the glass either inside or outside. As Burt Lancaster’s character goes outside we can see Rita Hayworth’s already following him – this constant motion creates a very fluid rhythm for the film as characters move from one scene to the next and the narrative baton is passed directly onto the next runner.

Wendy Hiller, a midfield general moving the narrative through Harry Horner's glass set

The glass also allows for some sublime lighting both from without the “rooms” as well as within; for example, one room is darkly lit for an intimate scene between Burt and Rita but with a glow from outside the walls reminding us of the pressures of their circumstance.

It’s such a well-controlled and thoroughly entertaining film that it’s hard to believe Mann was initially reluctant about directing given the “Britishness” of the story. He was duly sent to Bournemouth to find out more about the largely-retired population that informed Rattigan’s work – the writer’s mother lived there along with other inspirations for his characters – and this re-assured him that, fundamentally, this was a universal story about loneliness and fear.

Rita Hayworth and Burt Lancaster sitting at their own tables

Separate Tables was originally two separate stories featuring the same two actors playing the four leads with only the hotel manager, Miss Cooper, playing the same character across the two parts. Mann merged the two narratives together and had Rattigan re-write with help from John Gay. The result is a masterclass of ensemble playing honed not only by the theatrical experience of the largely British cast but also Mann’s insistence on rehearsing for three weeks before shooting. His camera direction and placing of the characters in the controlled space of the set is masterful.

As we begin, the camera moves down as Sibyl Railton-Bell (Deborah Kerr) walks out of the Beauregard Hotel, and sits pensively on the steps, sad face framed by the iron railings of the place she lives under her mother’s command. She is waiting for her friend Major David Angus Pollock (David Niven) to come back from his walk and when he does the two share a strange intimacy; his cliched formalities hiding something and she tentative and far younger than her years. Inside the Beauregard they are greeted coolly by her mother Mrs. Maud Railton-Bell (Gladys Cooper, forces’ sweetheart from the Great War and one of the great Dames of 20th Century theatre), who is clearly not impressed with the Major and barely tolerant of her daughter.

Deborah Kerr: you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave?

Mann establishes his characters quickly and economically and we soon understand the other residents, mild-mannered Lady Gladys Matheson (Cathleen Nesbitt), Racing Post subscriber Miss Meacham (May Hallatt, who played the role in London and on Broadway) and retired teacher Mister Fowler (Felix Aylmer) who will spend the day waiting in vain for a former pupil to arrive. Almost everyone is older than they want to be and lonely, even Sibyl, prevented by her mother from the slightest independence.

The exceptions are a couple of young students, Charles (Rod Taylor) and Jean (Audrey Dalton) who have booked the Hotel for revision and a little more.

Deborah Kerr and David Niven, two lonely people

Buzzing purposely around her guests is the hotel manager Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller) who keeps her head whilst so many are about to lose theirs… and despite Doreen (a lovely cameo from Priscilla Morgan, who will one day marry Clive Dunn), a waitress with attitude.

Then Hollywood comes staggering drunkenly through the patio doors in the form of Burt Lancaster playing John Malcolm, a writer who lubricates his work with frequent trips to the local pub. John and Pat are engaged but the latter is perhaps under no illusions; why does her man drink so much?

Then a car pulls up and the guests rush to the window to see a glamorous new arrival, Anne Shankland (Rita Hayworth); two Americans in Bournemouth at the same time? As John sits down at his table for dinner his mouth drops as he sees Anne, his former wife, seemingly diverted to the seaside on route to her wedding to catch up with her ex…

I read the news today, oh boy...

Meanwhile the Major has seen something shocking in the local paper, he has been put on probation for inappropriate behaviour towards women in the local cinema and what had been private is now public. Before long, Mrs. Railton-Bell, discovering his secret and the truth of his rank and background, is agitating to have him removed from the hotel. Sibyl is beside herself, her friend guilty of such behaviour… her worst nightmare from the only man she trusts.

The two stories play out in balance, a narrative challenge especially as resolution nears, but the passions are well balanced between Mrs R-B’s puritanical mania and the still vibrant affections of John and Anne. In the middle of both is Pat… in love but logical.

Pat has John's number

Wendy Hiller was apparently reluctant to play the role after seeing that Miss Cooper was less significant than in the stage play but she is excellent – the glue holding everything together, a moral and physical centre connecting the characters as she maintains order in the Beauregard. Mann praised Hiller for her consistency of performance and style; she never over-emphasises but it’s all there and you know what she’s thinking as the bravest person in the hotel, no doubt with a huge backstory we can only glimpse.

For Rita Hayworth this was quite unlike anything else she’d ever done, and Mann said he thought she “frightened to death” with all the experience around her but this was one of the roles she was proudest of.

Rita radiates

In David Niven’s case he tapped into depths Mann didn’t expect he could given the distance between himself and the “Major”, he’s superb throughout and if the last scene doesn’t bring a tear to your eye you may need to check your heart. That’s partly down to Deborah Kerr and Mann was convinced that if her part hadn’t been cut down to speed up the introduction of the Hollywood contingent (not his choice) she may well have won the Oscar she was nominated for.

Separate Tables is out on 20^th August on BFI dual format and comes with a handsome booklet and extras including Mann’s commentary and an in-depth audio interview with Burt Reynolds at the BFI in 1972.

Essential watching and listening available from the BFI onlineand in their shop. If you're quick you can pre-order!

Gladys Cooper in 1958 and back in the 1910s...