The Strong Man.

Review #2036: The Strong Man.

Cast: 

Harry Langdon (Paul Bergot), Priscilla Bonner (Mary Brown), Gertrude Astor (Lily of Broadway), William V. Mong (Holy Joe), Robert McKim (Mike McDevitt), and Arthur Thalasso (Zandow the Great) Directed by Frank Capra (#102 - Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, #319 - It's a Wonderful Life, #456 - It Happened One Night, #1356 - Meet John Doe)

Review: 

"If there is any shortcut to fame and fortune in motion pictures, it is as a gag man. Here you may jump to the top overnight, after the short probationary period, which is long enough to show you whether you have the stuff that makes gag men." - Frank Capra

"Comedy is a satire of Tragedy...deliciously comic moments, on the outside, are full of sad significance for those who realize the sinister characterization of the situation.” - Harry Langdon

In 1926, Frank Capra made his feature film debut as a director. But I'm sure when you think about Capra, you think first of those iconic films he did in the sound era such as It's A Wonderful Life (1944). But the story of Capra is one with plenty of interesting turns beyond just being a television staple every year. The son of Roman Catholics who left Italy for America when he was five, Capra studied chemical engineering at the California Institute of Technology but found himself having to do quick little jobs to get by during and after college, one of which involved selling books. He entered the film industry because when a film studio opened up in San Francisco, he implied he had "film experience" that got him into the door of directing various little films and getting himself other jobs, and one of those was as slapstick comedy director for the famed Mack Sennett, which he did in two separate stints in 1918 and 1924, with other stints in between including Hal Roach's Our Gang. Sennett, who had his own film stage and studio with Keystone, was once known as "King of Hollywood's Fun Factory", and various people appeared in Sennett productions that ranged from Harold Lloyd to Gloria Swanson (of course, the apparent talents of the actor vs. influence of Sennett is an interesting point to raise). Capra would direct his first film (12 minutes) with the independent Fireside Productions in 1922 with Fultah Fisher's Boarding House, which he also wrote, casted and edited based on the poem "The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House" by Rudyard Kipling. And then of course there is Harry Langdon. The Strong Man is one of two films that he made as star and producer with Capra, with the other being Long Pants (1927). In 1925, Langdon had signed a deal with First National Pictures that let his corporation (named after him) have full creative control to produce movies.

Admittedly, Harry Langdon was basically forgotten by me for a long time when it comes to mentioning the big names of the silent comedy era. Remember that his first feature was Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (1925), which was a success for the man once referred to as "The Little Elf". But Harry Edwards did not return to direct the next Langdon feature due to going overbudget. Online spelunking reveals several writers, with Arthur Ripley credited for the story while having Hal Conklin and Robert Eddy being labeled as "adaptors" and Reed Heustis for titles to go along with other writers with Tay Garnett, Clarence Hennecke, James Langdon, and Tim Whelan. One thing I can say about Langdon is that breaking into film when one is nearing their forties is quite remarkable. The Iowa native had honed his craft within medicine shows, vaudeville, and stock performances, so he obviously had an in-route to being a film presence that could both differ from the usual expectations that had come from being in league with Mack Sennett for the short films (i.e. Langdon was not a frantic comic) and the comic presences of the time that rivaled him in stature (to put it in perspective, in a film essay for 1949, Langdon was thought to be one of the four kings of silent comedy but the first biography of Langdon did not come out until 1982). All of this makes for saying he was a worthy pantomimist that makes for a useful team with his director in Capra (who knows who came up with a lead character being a Belgian emigrant) that does within careful pacing for a generally sweet feature. It is warmly funny in a way that feels entirely his own within an episodic structure (roughly five of them) with a handful of highlights, whether that involves him asking around just who "Mary Brown" is on every corner to the point where he falls under the situation with a vamp that leads to an amusing chase in a big house. Of course, the sequence involving him trying to help with a cold while on a packed trip that leads to him picking the wrong batch to rub over his chest (cheese!) is likely the most amusing sequence in execution that rewards timing. While Bonner does not have as much screentime as one might think about when it comes to doing a silent comedy with a "love interest", she does fine with the material presented here, with the sequence of the two meeting each other in town and sharing just who they've been since "The War" being a sweet little moment in understanding. By the time the film gets to its climax (for a film that runs at 75 minutes) involving a big coat and a cannon, the movie has shown the talents of its star within clownish rhythm that will please fans of silent comedy in what they see from one of the big names that came across at the right time for it.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Mark of Zorro (1920)

Review #1677: The Mark of Zorro.

Cast: 

Douglas Fairbanks (Don Diego Vega/Señor Zorro), Marguerite De La Motte (Lolita Pulido), Noah Beery (Sergeant Pedro Gonzales), Charles Hill Mailes (Don Carlos Pulido), Claire McDowell (Doña Catalina Pulido), Robert McKim (Captain Juan Ramon), George Periolat (Governor Alvarado), Walt Whitman (Father Felipe), Sidney De Gray (Don Alejandro Vega), and Tote Du Crow (Bernard) Directed by Fred Niblo.

Review: 

Admittedly, one could likely do no better in trying to find a more diverting time for the age of cinema than the 1920s. It has now been a century since that era, but one can still see the seams of its past now more than ever. Douglas Fairbanks proved to be one of the era's innovators and stars in that time, although he had an early start in the previous decade. The Denver native had begun acting from a young age, but his star started its rise after he had turned 30 with D. W. Griffith and Triangle Pictures in the mid-1910s, with his films generally falling as comedies (although there were occasions of his athleticism being shown); it was not long after that he soon formed his own production company to help produce and/or write movies as well. It would set the stage for a key moment in 1919 within the film industry when he joined together with Griffith and fellow stars Charlie Chaplin and Mary Pickford to form their own joint venture company in order to combat attempts to control contracts and work by exhibitors. The result was United Artists, and Fairbanks would star in the first film produced by UA with His Majesty, the American (1919). His next two films also fell into the realm of comedy, but he was soon inspired to make his biggest gamble yet - channeling his athleticism into a swashbuckling adventure role, and he co-wrote the scenario with Eugene Miller. Zorro was created in 1919 by pulp writer Johnston McCulley for the novel The Curse of Capistrano (which was serialized in All-Story Weekly). As it turned out, what was meant to be one tale only ended up being the first of a string of stories done by McCulley, which would be spurred on by the demand of the public because of the film, and he would do a variety of novels and short stories for four decades before his death in 1958 (he lived long enough to see Zorro on a new screen of media with the television series, famous in its own right despite its quick life). A semi-sequel followed this film in 1925 with Don Q, Son of Zorro, although that was re-tooled adaptation of a different work with Zorro, and several films have followed with the character since, such as the 1940 adaptation of the same name. The stories generally took place within pre-statehood California (Spain and Mexico each had control of the state in the late 18th century before 1848); supposedly, the exploits of Joaquin Murrieta (an outlaw in the time of the Gold Rush) proved an inspiration to McCulley, and it should only be fitting that Murrieta was thought of as akin to Robin Hood, since one could also make the connection for Zorro as well, but the double act of Zorro would prove an inspiration to Bob Kane in his collaboration with Bill Finger for the character of Batman in 1939. 

One shall not forget to mention its director with Fred Niblo, who managed to direct over forty films in the span of sixteen years. The Nebraska native started directing when he was 42 after having done years of vaudeville and theater. He would work with Fairbanks the following year with another swashbuckler in The Three Musketeers (1921), although it is his work with Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (1925) that is perhaps most memorable. At any rate, The Mark of Zorro proved to be the first of numerous movies for Fairbanks that fell into the historical action adventure genre, which would go all the way until The Iron Mask (1929). If Robin Hood (1922) is one of his grand highlights, one has to at least give credit to this film for being the first in its attempts at generating grand entertainment that will generally hit most of its marks in its own manner. For 90 minutes, it makes for an efficient magic trick that has the passion required in elevating a fight against oppression into a charmer that showcases Fairbanks playing a worthy balancing act. He gets to play the foppish mild-mannered nobleman that likely hones well to the comedy films he had done in the past, and he does pretty good with that in mind, silly but never too out of depth for when it comes time for the main man to show up. When playing as Zorro, he proves adept at playing to the action required while proving a capable hero without bloat - the stunt action looks real without making a mockery of what one likes to appreciate about the fine art of dashing through folks that makes it almost seem like a game without forgetting about the key focus of adventure in freedom. Truly he had a comfortability to handling the costuming and sets that overrides any fear of hammy acting. De La Motte was still fairly fresh in acting, having made her debut in support with Arizona (1918), which had Fairbanks as the lead. She does fine, playing well to having to balance interest and passivity when with Fairbanks that results in a few curious moments. There is a trio of adversaries with Beery, Periolat, and McKim. Berry (older brother of Wallace and son of Noah Beery Jr, who each also became actors) is probably the most memorable, one that plays the fool at times to Fairbanks that does his best with a swordfight that has him get marked in a friendly placed with the trademark from Zorro. The others do well, reasonably seeming fierce while making their mark on action scenes seem useful. Having fun in the hay while running from folks never seemed so freshly interesting, when you think about it. No matter how many Zorro films you have seen, there is still something to behold about the spectacle generated from this movie. While it isn't a greatly consistent story, it certainly still stands as an early winner for the decade and for what was to come in the action adventure genre, where the spectacle and costumes could only go in varying directions from there, for which Fairbanks and Niblo would be key contributors.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.