Regeneration (1915).

Review #2053: Regeneration.

Cast: 

Rockliffe Fellowes (Owen Conway), James A. Marcus (Jim Conway), Anna Q. Nilsson (Marie "Mamie Rose" Deering), Maggie Weston (Maggie Conway), Willam Sheer (Skinny), Carl Harbaugh (District Attorney Ames), John McCann (Owen Conway - 10 years old), and Harry McCoy (Owen Conway - 17 years old) Directed by Raoul Walsh (#399 - The Thief of Bagdad (1924), #907 - White Heat, #1333 - The Big Trail)

Review: 

The funny thing about the gangster film is that there really can't just be any one "first" of the genre. But you can still find curious examples in the days of the 1910s and the directors who were assigned to make them. In 1915, Fox Film Corporation was created with the merger of the Greater New York Film Rental Company and Box Office Attraction Company. Regeneration was one of a handful of films released in that year with the Fox moniker (as named for William Fox), but more importantly, it is the first film directed by Raoul Walsh. He had been an actor since 1909 and eventually found himself in the company of D.W. Griffith as an assistant. He would appear in various films as an actor, such as the now-lost The Life of General Villa (made in 1914, which actually featured the real Pancho Villa) along with the infamous The Birth of a Nation (1915) as actor/assistant director. He directed a handful of one-reel and two-reel films for the Biograph studio. In 1915, Walsh was 28 but asked to serve as director for this film, which would be filmed in Manhattan's Bowery district with real gangsters and prostitutes as extras. For the next couple of decades, Walsh would serve as a director in both silent and sound features. Walsh and Carl Harbaugh wrote the film based on the 1903 memoir My Mamie Rose by Owen Frawley Kildare (once called the "Kipling of the Bowery"), which had in turn been adapted into a 1908 play The Regeneration by Kildare and Walter C. Hackett (tragically, when Kildare saw the interpretation of the lead character, he became angry, and he later suffered a mental breakdown after a fall in the subway before he later died in a psychiatric center in 1911). 

So yes, to get to the road to films such as Underworld (1927), you have to consider films like this first. It probably isn't the most surprising thing that Walsh became the most enduring aspect of the film when compared to the cast (one of them in Sheer wears an eyepatch), because there is obviously promise within him as a director of cutting-edge drama. Granted, it isn't the most solid piece of social dramas when you think about the various films of the 1910s and 1920s, but Walsh makes a gritty feature of conscious atmosphere with promise of action to come. Fellowes actually was making his debut here in features (at the age of 31), and it ranks as his most noted of his appearances in dozens of films. He plays it okay, with a little bit of camera bulging but he does just fine in keeping this lingering tale of would-be redemption from falling off the rails. His desperation matters to us when it comes to a life learned of using fists to claw out of the bottom. Nilsson had moved from Sweden to the States just a couple of years prior in the early 1900s, and her silent film works are what she is most known for. This works out to probably the most noted performance of this film, which involves warm presence and curiosity for all that comes with willingly looking at both sides of the city. The path to beating out those bad habits of hard life in the streets (which just happens to involve finding love with a woman who is on her own journey in the street) is a gradual one, but it is an interesting one presented with useful curiosity, whether that involves a ship fire (one that evidently resembles the one that happened in 1904 on the General Slocum that saw many people die) or the lurid details of city life or the inevitable conclusion that comes in sacrifice. It is the curiosity of what could come from gangster films in later years that prove a key aspect in watchability for 72 minutes, since the key to getting people more curious about narrative drama is to give them a nice first taste of what could be done further. The drama comes out with enough conviction to make for a useful recommendation now, one that shows the potential of its director in dependability that would be accomplished in more ways than once. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

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.

Sky High (1922).

Review #1783: Sky High.

Cast: 

Tom Mix (Tom Newbury), J. Farrell MacDonald (Jim Frazer), Eva Novak (Estelle Halloway - his ward), Sid Jordan (Andrew Bates), William Buckley (Victor Castle), Adele Warner (Marguerite Castle), Wynn Mace (Henchman Patterson), and Pat Chrisman (Pasquale - Henchman) Written and Directed by Lynn Reynolds.

Review: 

In a way, this is exactly the time to spring a tale of a somewhat obscure director and the actor that starred in several of his films that became one of the first Western icons. Tom Mix was born in Pennsylvania in 1880, where he learned to ride horses from an early age. He worked a variety of jobs before breaking into film, one of which included working in a ranch with a touring Wild West show. Mix began his film career in 1909 with the Selig Polyscope Company, going from supporting actor to a star of his own in the near decade he worked with them. By 1917, he signed with William Fox's Fox Film Corporation, where he would make a string of Western films that consisted of shorts and feature-length (with Mix even directing some of the former category himself). His salary and the growing demand for imitation Westerns led to his departure from Fox in 1928; he appeared in fourteen films and one serial for two studios before his retirement in 1935. By this time, he had appeared in over 200 films, although a good deal of them is lost (a significant amount of Fox Film's silent film output was lost in a vault fire that occurred in 1937). What is remembered about Mix was the various programs that bore his name, which involved radio and comic books. Of course, one can't forget about the director behind the camera, even if time has perhaps made him obscure to audiences of the Western. Iowa native Lynn Reynolds directed Mix in nineteen films in a career that saw him direct 81 films (several shorts) from 1915 to 1927; he died that year, having shot himself at the age of 37 after a quarrel with his wife (about alleged infidelity on each side) led to him shooting himself.

The film we are talking about is a bit curious to consider. On one side, you have a government agent going around trying to find smugglers of Chinese immigrants (with "jewels and laces"!) and on the other side is the fact that this mostly takes place in the Grand Canyon that sees our hero rescue the ward of someone who just happens to also lead the gang. Of course, one can also see horse-riding and airplanes here, so we have a contemporary Western. Well, at least for the time, since it is now a century since this film was first released, although the stunt involving Mix and his plane is still quite interesting. As the successor to Western stars such as William S. Hart, one can see the interest audiences had in his flashy charm that showed grittiness within stunts while seeming capable in whatever story was thrown at him. In this case, a contemporary Western with shots of the Grand Canyon is a fair fit; Mix maintains interest in the film where a lesser actor might have made one go to sleep (or if the film really did try to build up chemistry with Novak beyond the contrivance levels it already was bubbling up to). Of course, MacDonald was a noted character presence for several years, and he makes a fair foil. Novak at least seems ready to have a go in cursory action, which makes up for the offbeat "ward" thing (hard to do when you look 25). The movie moves at a careful pace that seems just right for Reynolds to make solid work of, in that it has decent location shooting, a plot that makes semi-sense, and folks interested to make it happen with some enthusiasm. Granted, the movie isn't particularly great by any means, but one could do less to fill an hour than to deal with a movie like this. It may not be a seminal film of the silent era, but a century hasn't taken off its appeal when it comes to both Mix and Reynolds in the discussion of the evolving Western.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (1926).

The Cameraman.

Review #1774: The Cameraman.

Cast: 

Buster Keaton (Buster), Marceline Day (Sally Richards), Harold Goodwin (Harold Stagg), Sidney Bracey (Edward J. Blake), Harry Gribbon (Hennessey, the cop), with Josephine the Monkey, Richard Alexander, Edward Brophy, and Ray Cooke. Directed by Edward Sedgwick and Buster Keaton (#757 - Seven Chances, #762 - College, #805 - The Navigator, #877 - Three Ages, #908 - The General, #926 - Our Hospitality, #941 - Sherlock Jr, #1037 - Go West, and #1058 - Battling Butler, #1173 - Steamboat Bill, Jr)

Review: 

“When we made pictures, we ate, slept, and dreamed them.”

Buster Keaton, as is the case with several folks that thrived in the silent era, deserved better. He thrived best as one of the comedy pillars of the silent era, but his popularity underwent its demise not long after his decision to sign a contract with Metro Goldwyn Meyer. Of course, it actually really started with The General (1926), arguably his greatest film. The mixed success of the film at the time led his distributor in United Artists making sure to monitor him more carefully in expenses. With this film, it fell to MGM to try and manage him, with Keaton not even given credit for co-direction; Sedgwick, known for his un-credited work for 1925's The Phantom of the Opera (#774), shouldn't be diminished, since he tried to maintain his authority before quietly telling Keaton to help guide him. Keaton would later call his decision to join one of the worst of his life, one that would last until 1933. Instead of doing all the stunts, now he had stuntmen (after this film, anyway). Perhaps it is a coincidence that a movie involving cameramen name-drops the studio in the film. done by MGM. He wanted Spite Marriage (1929, the film released after this one) to be done ss a sound film, but the studio (headed by Irving Thalberg in production) wanted it to be done simply and under their control. As his workload got tougher in the next few years (which came with attempts at pairing him with Jimmy Durante for three films), his personal life fell apart, and he was fired from the studio midway through the 1930s. At any rate, this film managed to do quite well with audiences, even though it was believed to have been lost because of the 1965 MGM vault fire; three years later, a print was found in France, proving that is important to keep looking (a 1991 print was combined with this one to make the restored version one knows today). The film was written by Clyde Bruckman and Lew Lipton, with Joseph W. Farnham for titles. 

For what it is worth, the studio would show this film to new directors over the next few years about what a well-constituted comedy looked like. It is always hard to say just which Keaton film is the best, because he managed to do so well as one of the masters of the deadpan, the visual gag, and all-around master of charm. Even with a lessened capacity in terms of control with his comedy (i.e. not just him having an idea he could flesh out in the middle), he still is at the top of his game. His expressions in the face of amusing situations manages to never waver, always seeming to zone in on what is needed without becoming a malleable prop or just a stone face. He might not have as many dangerous stunts to pull around, but he still finds ways to make worthy humor come from arranged sequences, such as a street skirmish or sequences in a pool room. Day accompanies him with fair timing that fits what is needed, since one just has to make sure they don't look overmatched when it comes to being together. They match well, and the boat sequence is a useful one to note. At any rate, there are a few folks that Keaton pairs himself with for a gag, whether involving a monkey or with a hapless Gribbon (Goodwin does fine as the stooge). Of course, maybe the biggest smirk on my face comes with his scene at Yankee Stadium (an improvisation on his part), acting out the game to an empty crowd. At any rate, the sequence involving him shooting (or at least attempting) with the camera prove quite interesting, as a sort of film-within-the-film (which in that sense might remind one of Sherlock, Jr), complete with "mistake shots" and a climax with an absolute zinger for a line. The 67 minute run-time is effective to where one might want to see it twice just to absorb those visual gags again and again. It is the last great classic with Keaton in control, and he does everything one might see from him, never seeming compromised or constrained in his comic vision. No matter who stands out as your comic favorite of the silent era, Keaton's The Cameraman is still a great triumph for its era.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

I want to close this review off by acknowledging that today is the eleventh anniversary of the beginning of Movie Night. What a time we live in. 4,018 days since that day has seen 1,774 reviews, which means a review has been done every 2.26 days on average. As always, I wish to express my gratitude to anybody who has had the curiosity to check out this show over the years and anyone who has stuck around to check out what somebody on the Internet has to say about some random movie, whether good or bad. I hope that the years that follow lead to a continuation of interesting films to encounter and ponder about and that you are there to read all about it. Onward to the next row of films for the holidays.

He Who Gets Slapped.

Review #1771: He Who Gets Slapped.

Cast: 
Lon Chaney (Paul Beaumont, aka HE), Norma Shearer (Consuelo), John Gilbert (Bezano), Tully Marshall (Count Mancini), Marc McDermott (Baron Regnard), Ford Sterling (Tricaud), Harvey Clark (Briquet), Paulette Duval (Zinida), Ruth King (Maria Beaumont), Clyde Cook (A Clown), Brandon Hurst (A Clown), and George Davis (A Clown) Directed by Victor Sjöström (#1327 - The Wind and #1731 - The Phantom Carriage)

Review: 

It should only figure that having a prime presence in Lon Chaney and a noted directing figure in Victor Sjostrom would result in an interesting movie. Sjostrom had moved to the United States when he was hired to direct Name the Man (1924), and he modified his name to "Seastrom". He would direct a handful of films in America in the silent era, and this was the first one to be produced by Metro Goldwyn Mayer (MGM) in its history (albeit not the first released, since it was released in November for the holiday season), which if you remember had Louis B. Mayer as studio chief and Irving Thalberg as supervisor of productions, and the latter knew Chaney well enough from Universal Pictures to bring him to contract with the new studio. Sjostrom and Chaney would each benefit from the overall success that the film brought (one that made double its budget while being shot in the span of nearly two months). The film is adapted from the 1915 Russian play of the same name by Leonid Andreyev, with Sjostrom and Carey Wilson adapting it to the screen.

The film runs at 71 minutes (at least for versions in the public domain and on television, owing to an increased frame per second rate), and it manages to do quite well in making grisly entertainment. Well, at least for a film that involves a man who experiences humiliation so great that he becomes a clown only referred to as "HE" that gets a chance at romance but also revenge. Folks familiar with the actor referred to as "The Man with a Thousand Faces" will find a worthy treat in Chaney's lead performance as a dutiful clown, which technically means he is doing a dual performance: the normal mild-mannered man in the opening and a clown that prefers to laugh at people within pain (of course, there is also exploitation too). In that sense, he does exactly what is needed in a resourceful performance of pathos that we are generally sympathetic to, as in the tradition most would know from his previous highlights like The Penalty (1920), and it probably made sense that he would portray a clown again with Laugh, Clown, Laugh just four years later (which also had a love triangle). In fact, he nearly overshadows the other two folks in this love triangle story. Thalberg took an interest in Shearer, and this worked out pretty well for each side (they married in 1927), and one can see why. She has the bright charm required for what is needed here, and she seems quite suited in matching with Gilbert. He was in the midst of turning into a leading man around this period, and even with a segmented role like this he rolls with it pretty well (i.e. he doesn't get lost as just a nice face to romance another nice face). It might qualify as a thriller feature, if you think about it, since one definitely gets curious over just what will happen with the (unstable) lead presence, particularly when Marshall and McDermott enter the picture. McDermott makes a useful adversary as a bully that doesn't need much screen-time to make it work out, while Marshall makes a worthy exploiting figure. As one of MGM's early standout features, one should certainly not hesitate to pick this feature out, particularly since it happens to now be in the public domain. As a whole, the film is breezy and always interesting when it needs to be when it comes to showing a look into the circus along with being a fairly built thriller that still holds well within the standards of its time. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Son of the Sheik.

Review #1726: The Son of the Sheik.

Cast: 

Rudolph Valentino (Ahmed / The Sheik), Vilma Bánky (Yasmin), George Fawcett (Andre), Montagu Love (Ghabah), Karl Dane (Ramadan), Bull Montana (Ali the Mountebank), Bynunsky Hyman (Pincher the Mountebank), and Agnes Ayres (Diana, The Sheik's Wife) Directed by George Fitzmaurice.

Review:  

“Women are not in love with me but with the picture of me on the screen. I am merely the canvas on which women paint their dreams.”

It is interesting to consider the lasting legacy that comes from a film like this, one with numerous aspects to consider. For one thing, it is one of the earliest examples of something that seems quite common now: the sequel. Believe it or not, folks did not exactly yearn for franchises and endless adventures with the same folks back in the silent era. Of course, this isn't to say that sequels were entirely void in that time, since there were quite a few novel sequels to various works (Tarzan, the Oz series, you get the idea); by the time of the mid 1920s, the movie industry had a glut of demand for features from audiences that producers were at a task to re-produce with formulas to keep the folks entertained (one producer once compared turning out films to being like a frozen custard machine). One must consider how this relates to Valentino, of course. All knowledgeable folks of film know Valentino came to prominence from the shadows of menial jobs (like dancing) and bit parts with The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921), and the release of The Sheik (based on the novel of the same name by E. M. Hull) that same year cemented his lover image into the eyes of many viewers. Fame, as one might expect, does not mean long lasting success, obviously. Valentino soon developed a hatred of the sheik image (one that women loved but men hated, go figure), and he found himself unhappy in his own love life (which included a bigamy charge) that crashed right with having troubles with Famous Players-Lasky that included a strike and lingering debts (which meant that he did not do a film in 1923). At any rate, Valentino may have hated the image that made him the "Latin lover" icon, but he needed to work. What better way to do a comeback for United Artists than to make a film that touched upon his earlier success? After falling out with Lasky, he landed with UA and starred in The Eagle (1925), which was a fair hit. Besides, Hull had already written a second Sheik book (The Sons of the Sheik, written in 1925), so UA had to just task Frances Marion (one of the most prominent female screenwriters of the 20th century) and Frédérique De Grésac (a French librettist, playwright and screenwriter) with adapting it to a film, while George Marion Jr was tasked with titles (Paul Gerard Smith was left un-credited). At the helm as director was Frenchman George Fitzmaurice, who went from being a set designer to director by the time of 1914, and he would direct dozens of features until his death in 1940. 

Of course, the other thing to talk about is the fact that this was the last film to star Valentino. The film was ready for showing in the big cities by July of 1926, and he soon went on a tour across the country to promote the film. On August 15, however, he collapsed in his hotel room; eight days later, having had surgery for a perforated ulcer that led to peritonitis after surgery, he died, at the age of 31). When the film was finally released nationwide, it became a huge hit, riding on the outpouring of grief shown by saddened followers of Valentino (which ranged from riots to hysterics to a fake honor guard for his funeral). Sudden deaths of stars isn't exactly uncommon, but there certainly weren't many that inspired this kind of reaction from folks. It was filmed in Hollywood and Arizona with sweltering heat and production design from William Cameron Menzies. With this, one can at least say that Valentino went out with a film worthy of his lasting image of being the dashing man to dazzle curiosity that was more than the sum of the parts that inhibited his prior Sheik effort. It is no better or worse than what had happened five years prior, mostly because the one difference really is the fact that he plays dual roles. He liked the art of movie-making and he even provided a few costumes to use along with doing his own stunts with this feature, one that certainly doesn't play on as many stereotypes as the original had (namely because the original work was already controversial with its depiction of rape) while being shorter to sit through at 68 minutes. The only other actor to return for this film was Ayres (who by this point had been cutting down on film roles in favor of stock holdings and married life), who has a few brief moments to share with Valentino (looking fairly well with the aged makeup, at least) while he gets to be paired with Banky (whom he had starred with in his previous effort with UA). He might not have liked the role, but he certainly fit well with what was needed for the sensibility of the time with drawing romance without having to do too much (or speak) to get it. He draws one in with plenty of glare and energy required to keep interest for a movie that isn't particularly interested in anything other than a cursory romance/adventure. Sure, him and Banky do seem to have a fair rapport with each other, but this is a case of fair returns of getting what you expect rather than anything more than "diverting" - it may seem goofy, it may seem a bit off-kilter, but it ticks all the boxes of serviceability without fuss or any embarrassment. It is a romp, pure and simple, but it is a likeable one that moves on each plot point with a fair beat and no dull lulls (which includes fair work from Menzies, who made an involving set with desert that doesn't seem entirely phoned in) that works with what Valentino did best in allure. It isn't his greatest feature, but it is certainly one that served as a worthy capstone for a man made for the time and place of the silent era.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Within Our Gates.

Review #1633: Within Our Gates.

Destiny (1921).

Review #1619: Destiny.

Cast:

Lil Dagover (Young Woman / Zobeide / Monna Fiametta / Tiao Tsien), Walter Janssen (Young Man / Franke / Giovan Francesco / Liang), Bernhard Goetzke (Death / Der Tod / El Mot / Bogner / Archer), Hans Sternberg (The Mayor), Carl Rückert (The Reverend), Max Adelbert (The Notary / The Chancellor), Wilhelm Diegelman (The Doctor), Erich Pabst (The Teacher), Karl Platen (The Apothecary), and Hermann Pischa (The Tailor) Directed by Fritz Lang (#333 - M, #500 - Metropolis, and #1365 - Scarlet Street)

Review:

"To begin with, I should say that I am a visual person. I experience with my eyes and never, or only rarely, with my ears—to my constant regret.”

It is easy to say that a film merits coverage because it came from a notable name. But how about one that turns a century old this year? Sure, Fritz Lang had his classics come around with films like Metropolis (1927), but one can't forget his earlier work. Lang did brief study in his native Vienna for civil engineering and art before moving to travelling abroad and later service in World War I for the Austrian army. He did a spell of acting in theater before moving into writing for UFA and other German studios and soon directing. Destiny, known in Germany as Der müde Tod: ein deutsches volkslied in 6 versen [Weary Death: A German Folk Story in Six Verses] (or Behind the Wall for US release), is the eighth feature film directed by Lang, who had begun his career with Halbblut in 1919 (which alongside his second film Der Herr der Liebe is lost). He continued with an assignment for a serial that resulted in two films with The Spiders (1919-20), which would be the first of numerous serials that he would be part of, with two-parters following in Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler (1922) and Die Nibelungen (1924). This was written by Lang and his wife Thea von Harbou, who wrote several films over the course of twelve years. Incidentally, the same year that they married was also the same year that Lang's mother passed away, although his version of Death came from his childhood memories upon having a fever, although it has been argued that he also may have been inspired by the Indian folklore tale Savitri and Satyavan. In any case, the love of Death, composed of horror and affection, was noted by Lang as a key player in his career, alongside fate and fear.

One should expect something interesting from a film opening in "Some Time and Some Place", and they sure do get a curious film. Technically speaking, what we have here is a parable in four parts, since it involves an interlinked narrative that starts and ends with Dagover and Goetzke, while three stories (referred to as "Lights", respectively) are told involving love and death that have certain actors sharing time together each time. Love and death seem to go hand in hand, whether that it is in "The City of the Faithful," or the Carnival in Venice, or during the reign of the Chinese Empire. The result is a film with eerie appeal, filled with numerous interesting shots and images that show what filmmaking could be in the 1920s in its strengths for storytelling and power while also being a useful mediation of death. Dagover was a considerable presence in German cinema, considering his varied career over six decades that led to work with directors like Lang and Robert Wiene to Maximilian Schell. She certainly does well for what is needed, careful in capturing the desperation needed alongside the needed nature for the other roles to play without just being drawn with a plain brush for costume drama. Janssen was in his second ever role of a varied career, and he does well here in the other role across time in star-crossed expression. One could argue this as the most notable film of Goetzke's career, but that would underscore his prolific nature, since he was in over a hundred films in forty years, and he seems to fit the description of what is needed from Lang involving mystery and dread with a pale and weary figure of the beyond. By the time the film moves towards its end at 99 minutes, one seems to be touched by its effectiveness, as it proves to be a key figure in what makes for a moody triumph of German Expressionism, probing the nature of separation and sacrifice that keeps its audience on its toes. It might not be the most memorable film to strike first in Lang's catalogue of work, but it certainly had an influence upon several filmmakers. Luis Bunuel was inspired by the film (specifically with the cemetery sequence) to make films (citing Lang and his films as the biggest influence upon him), while Douglas Fairbanks liked the trick photography effects used for the climax enough to get the rights to the film so they could grab the effects for use in The Thief of Baghdad (1924). At any rate, what we have is a grand curiosity of German Expressionism, dreary yet crisp in its filmmaking that serves as a useful silent feature and gem in Lang's career in terms of its look upon death and separation - and the figures that play their part on the board.

While I doubt I will reach the lengths of 2020 with reviews, there are still plans to do a few theme weeks throughout the year to further the perspective of cinema from various positions. One of these weeks, I'm pleased to announce, will focus on films done by directors never previously covered on Movie Night before. Looking at the catalogue of records of Movie Night show that there have been 958 different directors covered throughout the ten year history of Movie Night, so one can only wonder who is next on the list. A week of World Cinema is tentatively scheduled, along with a special surprise or two. Enjoy!

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Tabu: A Story of the South Seas.

Review #1335: Tabu: A Story of the South Seas.

Cast: 
Matahi (The Boy), Anne Chevalier (The Girl), Bill Bambridge (The Policeman), and Hitu (The Old Warrior) Directed by F.W. Murnau (#256 - Nosferatu and #499 - Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans)

Review: 
It should only make sense that F. W. Murnau would be behind one of the last great films of the silent era. He had directed twenty films (with eight now being lost) since beginning his career at the age of 31 in 1919 with Der Knabe in Blau (The Boy in Blue), having survived numerous plane crashes and being a prisoner of war during his time in World War I for the German Empire. He had grown up inspired by the works of Nietzche and William Shakespeare, viewing the cinema as an art form for the director to sketch with his camera, which he used to great effect with films such as Der letzte Mann (The Last Laugh) from 1924, which eschewed using multiple intertitles to try and help its story, or his film based on the German legend Faust in 1926 - his last German work before migrating to the United States. He had made two further films for Fox Film after the memorable Sunrise with Four Devils and City Girl, which did not prove successful. Similarly dissatisfied with the film studios over his vision was Robert J. Flaherty. He had began his career with the seminal Nanook of the North (1922), with his next feature being the first docufiction film with Moana (1926). However, he had gotten into disagreements with MGM over his meticulous way of shooting when doing White Shadows in the South Seas (1928), which led him to quitting production. The two had a common acquaintance in Flaherty's brother, and Murnau's desire to make a film in Tahiti combined with Flaherty's connection to natives led to a story written by the two for a film. By 1929, they had gotten started in location scouting and wound up with their lead actress in a cocktail bar. They had intended to receive funds to produce from a small company, but delayed transactions led to Murnau deciding to fund it himself. The following year, they had began production, with Flaherty filming the opening scene before technical issues led to Floyd Crosby being brought in to help shoot the film. These three were the only professionals on the film, with everyone else from the cast to the crew being natives (trained by Murnau). The changes made to the script to incorporate a love story did not please Flaherty, who spent most of his time developing the film in a lab, perceiving Murnau as arrogant and selfish. The film was made over the span of ten months before eventually being signed for a deal of distribution with Paramount Pictures for March 18, 1931. Tragically, Murnau would not survive to see the film premiere, having died in a car accident the week before. The film did not prove to be a success, although Crosby would win an Academy Award for his cinematography work; the film managed to survive despite World War II destroying the original negative, and time has helped the film's reputation as a fascinating silent piece that almost plays like poetry.

One does not have to wait long to see its hypnotic power take affect. It manages to tell a concise 84 minute tale on the power of its images (and occasionally translated messages) without needing to use overblown theatrics or sentiment to get its tragedy the right kind of meaning. One wonders what Murnau would have done when it came to direction if he had survived further in the sound era, really. Its tale of romance that falls prey to the demands of others and fate trying to deny them is a familiar one that can be said in any decade, which most certainly can make for great entertainment, or at least ones that are moving enough to inspire curiosity. This does fine in that sense because of its craftsmanship. Matahi and Chevalier certainly make the most of it, being figures for Murnau to mold for effect to where we see clear chemistry between them throughout the two chapters (fittingly named "Paradise" and "Paradise Lost"). Hitu rounds out the small cast with an imposing nature through old eyes that sell the dangers of forbidden love trying to persist over superstition. One doesn't need to have a complete understanding of the culture the film tries to depict to find themselves absorbed by what they are seeing, where patience does not wear thin or lead to much frustration. By the time the film gets to its tragic but swift ending in the seas, the film has sealed itself as a fascinating finishing point for an era where music and images took precedent over voice. On the whole, while it isn't quite as striking in every composition as his other works, Murnau manages to create a lasting great piece to sadly close out a career on with this film, a mesh of drama with his flourishes in camera combining with a depiction of people from another culture to make a useful curiosity piece that you should check out for yourself.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Pandora's Box (1929).

Review #1329: Pandora's Box.

Cast: 
Louise Brooks (Lulu), Fritz Kortner (Dr. Ludwig Schön), Francis Lederer (Alwa Schön), Carl Goetz (Schigolch), Krafft-Raschig (Rodrigo Quast), Alice Roberts (Countess Augusta Geschwitz), Daisy D'ora (Charlotte Marie Adelaide von Zarnikow), Gustav Diessl (Jack the Ripper), Michael von Newlinsky (Marquis Casti-Piani), and Sigfried Arno (The Stage Manager) Directed by G. W. Pabst.

Review: 
One could apply the cliche that any year is a turning point for film, or say that it was a year of big change. To add another cliche, 1929 was a special year for film in numerous aspects. The era of the silent films was soon to be a thing of the past (or at the very least wasn't as popularly used). Musicals were now getting to be a trend to look for in the rushes (along with making sure they can say the words in the microphone without trouble). The first Academy Awards were presented by presented by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences on May 16 (with winners announced months before the event), where it had silent films regarded as the most outstanding and unique (Wings and Sunrise, respectively), which wouldn't happen again for over 80 years. But hey, every decade brings in and lets out film stars onto the screen (some on their own terms), and one who burned just as bright as others in terms of electric presence was Louise Brooks. Brooks had spent the earlier parts of the decade in dance, having joined the Denishawn School of Dancing and Related Arts company at 15 in 1922, although she was dismissed two years later. Her work with the Ziegfeld Follies (noted for their revue productions on Broadway since 1907) led to interest from Paramount Pictures and a contract in 1925. In the four years prior to Pandora's Box, she had appeared in thirteen films (the last one being The Canary Murder Case, a film she refused to do sound re-takes for). She made three films in Europe (the last being Miss Europe in 1930), but she appeared in just six more films in the following eight years, which she had attributed to be informally blacklisted from Paramount (declining an offer to star in The Public Enemy did not help matters either). As for Pabst (born in Austria), he had begun his film career in 1923 with The Treasure, had a knack for developing talent as a important director during the Weimer Republic. He had directed films with actresses who would become stars, such as Greta Garbo and Leni Riefenstahl. The film was based on two plays (generally referred to as the Lulu cycle) from German playwright Frank Wedekind - Erdgeist (Earth Spirit) and Die Büchse der Pandora, which were performed in 1895 and 1904, respectively. The two plays also served as the basis for an opera by Alban Berg that would premiere in 1937, and the first play had been adapted for film in 1923.

In any case, it would seem the choice by Pabst to use Brooks (with Marlene Dietrich as a second choice) paid off in the long run. Who else could pull off such an exotic and absorbent performance? It may be a silent role, but she sure likes someone doing a modern performance, one that stood out from other performers of the era with such magnetic desperate energy that compels attention each minute she is on screen, driving chemistry (and ruin) with her co-stars in a frank and honest manner, which still resonates after over nine decades and plenty of dramas across the world, whether silent (like this one) or not. She just has the energy to be oneself in passion without needing a trick in hand. Kortner and the others follow along with fair results, where one can see themselves drawn in to a spark from their eyes without needing to fall back to sentimentality, which go well for Lederer and Goetz. It clicks on its sensibilities with an eye for the crowd without needing to overload the senses, where shock for a scene (such as its death scenes) doesn't seem inauthentic. For such a transgressive film, it is no surprise that there were numerous versions shown in theaters with notable edits. In one version, Lederer's character is changed from being Kortner's son to his secretary. In another, the ending gets rid of Jack the Ripper and has the main character join the Salvation Army. In any case, the film has managed to survive to find in the market of curiosity at 133 minutes alongside other films of its ilk, a winner for the 1920s that maintains standing after several decades on the heels (and bob haircut) of its main star, who endures now on the basis of work abroad like this - and for good reason.

Next Time: As it turns out, 1929 is a triple-header extravaganza. What better way to move forward with seeing the progression of film than The Broadway Melody? 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The Wind (1928).

Review #1327: The Wind.

Cast: 
Lillian Gish (Letty Mason), Lars Hanson (Lige Hightower), Montagu Love (Wirt Roddy), Dorothy Cumming (Cora), Edward Earle (Beverly), and William Orlamond (Sourdough) Directed by Victor Sjöström.

Review: 
For the year of 1928, change was imminent for film. Lights of New York, the first all-talking full length feature was released in July of that year (released through Warner Bros with the Vitaphone system, improving from their previous efforts). Sprinkled within the top grossing film list were mixes of silent and sound (or at least part-sound) films, such as The Singing Fool (the follow-up part-talkie musical by Warner Bros with Al Jolson) or The Circus (one of numerous Charlie Chaplin films that highlighted the decade) and so forth. The actors of yesteryear would either transition into the burgeoning era of voice or would find themselves doing other avenues of work besides film. Lillian Gish was a key pioneer as an actress for the silent era, who had transitioned from stage acting in the early 20th century to appearing films by 1912, with her highlights primarily being her work from D. W. Griffith, which I've noted before with Way Down East (1920). The rise of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1924 led to Gish signing and starring in films with them, with this being the last of the three made with the studio. This was the last of the three films she made for MGM (along with her last silent role), which was not a huge success upon release, having been delayed a year before release. This was the penultimate American film directed by Victor Sjöström, who was noted for work in his native country of Sweden in the decade with films such as The Phantom Carriage (1921) before moving on to sign with Louis B. Mayer to direct in 1924 with Name the Man, and he and Gish had collaborated on The Scarlet Letter two years earlier. Gish went back to theater acting in the following decade, although she would appear in films from time to time until her death at 99 in 1993, while Sjöström directed four more films (his last being in 1937) and returned to acting in the theater and in film, with his last performance before his death in 1960 being Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries (1957).

This film was an adaptation of the 1925 novel of the same name by Dorothy Scarborough, which depicted a lonely small town Texan life in the 1880s, ending with the main character being driven mad by the corpse of the man she killed (after being raped) being uncovered by the wind that leads her to wander into a windstorm. The ending for the film was notably different from the book in that it was a happy one - although it has been said that it was imposed onto the film over a filmed "sad" ending, this does not seem the case. Gish and Sjöström were not fans of doing this ending, but the sensibilities of a public wanting something happy to close their viewing experience in the 1920s wins out, I suppose. It doesn't harm the film as a complete whole, mostly because it is compels attention for 78 minutes without hesitation, a drama of suffering in the elements that resonates without needless extravagance or maudlin sentiment. The film was primarily made in the Mojave Desert (with over 90 degree temperatures), with eight airplanes being used to help simulate wind (no points for wondering how bad conditions must've been for crew having to deal with all that air and sand). Gish is at her finest form here, displaying fragility and depth with a steely soul that urges to persist on and confront her fate like poetry with grace, whether when having to handle the harsh conditions of a small windy town (which can seem quite literal at times) or some of the people that come from it. Hanson (a Swedish actor who had his career turn to Hollywood with a few successes) does fine with Gish, having a reasonable screen presence when needed. The rest of the cast do well with their parts when needed, whether villainous with Love or comedy relief with Orlamond. The film is an engaging one, wracked with chills that make for quite a moody piece to view for the curious at heart. It is one with plenty of entertainment through its direction, acting, and effects that make it a welcome gem for the silent era and film viewers.

Next Time: 1928 strikes again with In Old Arizona.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Underworld (1927).

Review #1325: Underworld.

Cast: 
Clive Brook ("Rolls Royce" Wensel), George Bancroft ("Bull" Weed), Evelyn Brent ("Feathers" McCoy), Fred Kohler ("Buck" Mulligan), Helen Lynch (Meg), Larry Semon ("Slippy" Lewis), and Jerry Mandy (Paloma) Directed by Josef von Sternberg.

Review: 
"Shadow is mystery and light is clarity. Shadow conceals--light reveals. To know what to reveal and what to conceal and in what degrees to do this is all there is to art."

Sometimes you just need a crime film to wind you up for entertainment. This was the film that helped to serve as a template for gangster films to develop that would come along in the next decade, while also helping to deliver its director and writer to further projects over the next several years. It should only make sense to cover a film from Josef von Sternberg, who forged a career in the latter parts of the silent era with his directorial efforts that were characterized by his expressive camera work. He had gotten his start in film in 1919, working with silent directors such as Roy William Neill and Emile Chautard, with his first film credit being for The Mystery of the Yellow Room as assistant director. He had his debut as director in 1925 with The Salvation Hunters, which he also wrote and co-produced. It subsquently recieved a private viewing at the home of Charlie Chaplin, which led to being tasked to direct a film starring Edna Purviance named A Woman of the Sea (1926). A preview screening did not fare well with Chaplin, who decided to not release the film, which later had its negatives burned seven years later in order to note it as a loss for tax reasons, although production stills survive. He had signed by Metro Goldwyn Meyer, but he left the studio after troubles on both The Exquisite Sinner (soon re-shot by Phil Rosen) and The Masked Bride over his vision. He was hired in 1927 by Paramount Pictures "technical advisor for lighting and photography". He was tasked to reshoot scenes and recut footage for Frank Lloyd's Children of Divorce (1927) when executives determined the film was not releasable in its current state. The success of his revision led to him being tapped to direct this film.

One can see various gangster tropes fairly quickly into the film, namely with its maverick criminal lead, a messy love triangle, memorable nicknames, and of course a shootout for the climax (really half of these could be culled for a Western). It all ends up to make a breezy 80 minute experience. Style is a thing that can fit for any decade, and this is one is certainly bold enough to keep up with such demands from its director. The cast do well with the material, such as Brook, who

certainly has the eyes to sell a down-and-out drunk without needing to swagger in hysterics. Bancroft certainly seems bold enough to play an eccentric heavy, devoted to his work, loyalty, and women that provokes attention whenever on screen. Brent plays out the main triangle fairly carefully. The rest of the cast fill out quite well, and the film is relatively engaging without complicating itself in too much detail. It captivates the curiosity in ways that would play itself out further for future films when it came to a focus on criminals and what made them tick, for which von Sternberg does with bold confidence.

The writing for the film was done by journalist and playwright Ben Hecht, who earned an Academy Award for Best Original Story (awarded until 1957) at the very first Academy Award ceremony in 1929 (the award window would not be tightened up to honor just the preceding year until the 1935 ceremony). Hecht became one of Hollywood's go-to people for screenplays, while von Sternberg found success with various studios before his last film in Jet Pilot (1957). He had his conflicts with studio executives over the years when it came to trying to compromise his artistic vision, but he managed to pull off a noted career with the style that came through on screen, with this film being a key piece of his legacy of shining entertainment.

Next Time: The Jazz Singer.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

3 Bad Men.

Review #1324: 3 Bad Men.

Cast: 
George O'Brien (Dan O'Malley), Olive Borden (Lee Carlton), Lou Tellegen (Sheriff Layne Hunter), Tom Santschi ("Bull" Stanley), J. Farrell MacDonald (Mike Costigan), Frank Campeau ("Spade" Allen), Priscilla Bonner (Millie Stanley), Otis Harlan (Editor Zach Little), Phyllis Haver (Lily), Georgie Harris (Joe Minsk), Alec B. Francis (Rev. Calvin Benson), and Jay Hunt (Nat Lucas) Directed by John Ford (#398 - The Last Hurrah)

Review: 
When it comes to making a classic Western, John Ford as director certainly comes to mind. Ford had a lengthy career that spanned nearly 50 years from his first in The Tornado (1917) to his last with 7 Women (1966). He could direct any sort of genre, whether a Western, drama, war documentary, romance or some sort of drama. In any case, it seems appropriate to pick a film like this from Ford, seeing as a great deal of his silent films are now lost, alongside the fact that it was also his last Western until another classic thirteen years later with Stagecoach. This also ties in to the film's main star in O'Brien, who starred in ten films for Ford (such as The Iron Horse (1924), Ford's first epic) while becoming a popular star for this decade in his own right. It is nice to see a Western that likes to try and play with other genres and succeeds in doing so, having highlights of comedy and romance that gel pretty well with a solid cast. It is a pretty riveting film that comes from Fox Film Corporation (who you might recognize from their subsequent merger with 20th Century Studios in 1935), juggling its plot and numerous characters with careful ambition, where its episodic nature plays out nicely for 92 minutes without overstaying its welcome. It is a film "suggested" by Herman Whitaker's 1916 novel Over the Border, with the scenario and adaptation being done by John Stone while Ralph Spence and Malcolm Stuart Boylan did the titles. There are quite a few Western tropes to spot here, such as bad guys gone good, a last stand for prominent characters, some sort of historical element (in this case, a land rush in the Dakotas), and so on. But it never seems like a cliche waiting to be made fun of because of how interesting Ford can make the landscape seem. Stock characters can still make for great entertainment if one has the right sense of direction to let the actors deliver some effort to them, and Ford does that well. O'Brien and Borden prove to be pretty watchable, having decent chemistry together, compelling to watch when faced with each other or when with the rascally "bad men". Tellegen proves to be a capably ruthless adversary, whose fierce eyes and disposition gel pretty well when needed for a showdown or just being rude to someone who wants to marry him. The highlight proves to be the outlaw group, headlined by a soulful Santschi, who carries this group to redemption with charm and tenderness. MacDonald and Campeau are also pretty good in giving some chuckles (as set up by the title cards). The rest of the cast prove just fine, particularly when it comes to a good ol' bar fight or the land rush. It is a curiosity worth checking out, where one can see a game cast work with equally sturdy foundations for a fun adventure along with seeing an early example of a memorable film by John Ford when it came to delivering capable entertainment that served him well over the course of the next few decades with sound and Westerns.

Next Time: Tribute to the Decades approaches a year of awards and sound first with Underworld.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Adventures of Prince Achmed.

Review #1323: The Adventures of Prince Achmed.

Cast: 
Directed by Lotte Reiniger and Carl Koch.

Review: 
The Adventures of Prince Achmed (known as Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed in its native country of Germany) is a magnificent achievement. It endures as the oldest surviving feature animated film in existence, surviving where two prior Argentian features (El Apóstol and Sin dejar rastros) from Quirino Cristiani had not. This survived despite the fact the original nitrate print (with color) had been lost. The film was restored by German and British archivists through the Desmet Method to restore the film and its colors from a black-and-white print. The previous years of the 20th century saw an evolution in terms of what animation could do to begin with, starting from 1906 with Humorous Phases of Funny Faces, a three minute film that showed hand-drawn scenes on a chalkboard done by J. Stuart Blackton. In any case, it is still remarkable to make a film like this, done with silhouette marionette being photographed movement by movement, with Reiniger describing them as being "cut out of black cardboard and thin lead, every limb being cut separately and joined with wire hinges." The backgrounds were also cut out with scissors from transparent paper. This film was in production for three years, with roughly 96,000 frame-by frame stills being utilized in the film. One gets the feeling of seeing shadow puppets when first viewing the film, but do not forget that this she is doing all of this one frame at a time, with no live-action manipulating. For a film that is over nine decades old, that is quite the achievement. The film is based of elements from One Thousand and One Nights, combining "Aladdin" and "The Story of Prince Ahmed and the Fairy Perī-Bānū". There were numerous avant-garde animators that helped work on the film, such as Walter Ruttmann (who also directed avant-garde fare such as Berlin: Symphony of a Metropolis), Berthold Bartosch (who went on to do work such as The Idea), and Carl Koch (Reiniger's husband and occasional assistant to Jean Renoir). Each helped with various sequences, such as help with ocean waves and the skies with cutouts from sand and soap, while wax was being used to convey the flying horse and various magic transformations. One is in awe fairly quickly from the craftsmanship displayed in each act, but I think the greatest highlight is the water sequence. In the film, the Princess and the maidens fly with feathered garmets to a stream for a bath. The movements made in that part are already quite nice, but it is the ripples and shimmer of the water surface that seal the deal, since it looks quite realistic with detail. The characters themselves all look fairly distinct, where one can figure out what is going on without needing more detail or even voices for a film that displays usually two colors: the background color and black for the silhouettes. You need films like this to remind oneself of what it means to tell a story in one's own vision, whether with or without actors or even a considerable budget. One is amazed at what one can tell in 65 minutes from cut-outs and occasional title cards (whether in German or another language), such as flying horses, or wizard battles, which proves to be an excellent climax of images (along with a modern recreation of the music) that inspires curiosity just as much as the other images do. On the whole, this is an easy film to recommend, one with plenty of imagination and wonder that rewards its viewer with diverting entertainment that serves its decade with pleasure and amazement.

Next Review - Another film from 1926, with 3 Bad Men.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Battleship Potemkin.

Review #1322: Battleship Potemkin.

Cast: 
Aleksandr Antonov (Grigory Vakulinchuk), Vladimir Barsky (Commander Golikov), Grigori Aleksandrov (Chief Officer Giliarovsky), I. Bobrov (Young sailor flogged while sleeping), Mikhail Gomorov (Militant sailor), Aleksandr Levshin (Petty Officer), N. Poltavseva (Woman with pince-nez), Lyrkean Makeon (The Masked Man), and Konstantin Feldman (Student agitator) Directed by Sergei Eisenstein.

Review: 
Yes, it only figures to pick a film as notably subversive as this one for 1925 in Tribute to the Decades. Despite any biases I may display towards communism (and countries that practiced it then and now, which applies especially to China), I did not let that get in the way of saying that this is a good film. I may indulge a line or two occasionally about my gripes with left/right-wing politics trying to seep their way into films where it does not belong (such as with the recent Academy Award for Best Picture nominees), but it generally should not serve as some sort of key reason I don't like a film. Enjoy the review.

The middle of the decade continued the run of plenty of notable classic films across cinema. Ben-Hur became the biggest hit of the year (alongside being the most expensive silent film ever made). The Gold Rush proved to be the best comedy hit of the year (along with arguably being one of the greatest comedies ever). Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack (who went on to co-direct classics such as King Kong) collaborated for the first time with Grass (1925), which followed a tribe in Persia. But it isn't hard to deny the power of a certain Soviet feature when it comes to its place among world cinema. What can one really say about a revolutionary film like this? It is the kind of film that fits the film school circuit as an example of what one can do with editing and montage, where the focus is not so much an individual but the collective as a whole, which one would expect from a Soviet production meant to inspire the masses with its own form of propaganda, which led to bans in numerous countries (including the Soviet Union itself). Eisenstein had directed his first film eight months earlier with Strike, which dealt with a factory strike in 1903 that used animals as metaphors for the condition of numerous individuals. It was made to commemorate twenty years since the mutiny of the battleship Potemkin, which had already been dramatized in 1906 named La révolution en Russie, which ran for four minutes. The film is not meant to be a complete re-telling of the story of the mutiny, as one could expect from a dramatization. If that were true, one would have to show scenes of the Russian fleet being unable to capture the ship around the Black Sea (to the point where Emperor Nicolas II called the attempts "difficult and shameful story") before Romania gave the sailors asylum, with the ship itself left nearly sunk with the Romanian flag on before it was renamed the Panteleimon before being turned into scrap metal prior to production. If you want to be even more pedantic, the famous Odessa massacre on the steps sequence never happened in real life either, instead being used for dramatic effect, although it should be noted that it was inspired by a massacre that occurred five months before the mutiny and demonstrators. The point of the film was to inspire passion and thought with its montage, where the focus is on the images and not so much on the mostly amateur actors (although Aleksandrov would become noted for his later directorial work). One will likely find themselves wrapped up in the drama of the mutineers and at least pick up the urge to research more about it (along with other various revolving topics, but that's another story). It definitely doesn't get in the way of viewing the Odessa sequence, which is easily the highlight that can be dissected on the most on its rhythm of delivering such emotional intensity without missing a beat, with its influence being seen quite clearly in other films to follow (such as The Untouchables). There are plenty of images one could highlight that stand out (such as the sequence involving the raising of a red flag to thunderous music), but the shot of the baby carriage rolling down the steps is the most obvious one to go with when talking about the punch the film can pull. There are plenty of great films out there that stand out for their entertainment value or their innovation in style and form, and this is one that stands for the latter category with pride, where it isn't surprising that numerous publications found it one of the greatest films ever made for several decades. For the curious at heart when it comes to wanting to view films beyond American ones, this would likely prove a fine one to consider (particularly since it is readily available to find on the Internet), alongside the curiosity for silent films for the decade.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

The Sea Hawk (1924).

Review #1321: The Sea Hawk (1924).

Cast: 
Milton Sills (Sir Oliver Tressilian), Enid Bennett (Lady Rosamund Godolphin), Lloyd Hughes (Lionel Tressilian), Wallace Beery (Capt. Jasper Leigh), Marc McDermott (Sir John Killigrew), Wallace MacDonald (Peter Godolphin), Bert Woodruff (Nick), Claire Du Brey (Siren), Lionel Belmore (Justice Anthony Baine), Cristina Montt (The Infanta of Spain), Albert Prisco (Yusuf-Ben-Moktar), and Frank Currier (Asad-ed-Din) Directed by Frank Lloyd (#099 - Mutiny on the Bounty)

Review: 
It only figures one needs to build their own ships to really sell their adventure films. At least that is what director Frank Lloyd felt was the best way to approach his film when it came to ship action. At the cost of around $200,000, wooden exteriors were outfitted to existing craft by designer Fred Gabourie (whose best work was props for Buster Keaton silent films), which was soon utilized for scenes on the coast of Catalina Island in California. The footage of the ships in battle were re-used in 1940 for The Sea Hawk (a Warner Bros production with Errol Flynn that had its own distinctive plot as opposed to being a remake). What can one expect from a silent spectacle like this? Well, quite a bit, given that it is an adventure film with pirates, disloyal brothers, sea-slaves, and other various elements, all of which make for an adequate time at 123 minutes, where spectacle will sail the seas far more prominently than its attempts at romance, which in of itself is okay. It takes quite a bit of build-up before it finds itself on a ship, but it all proves to be worth it, mostly because it never seems too stagey or overblown to detriment. When it comes to headliners, Sills is a fair pick for such a rugged role. He had started his career in acting on a whim in 1906, inspired by a visit to the University of Chicago by stage actor Donald Robertson (who had his own stage company) while he was working as a professor (Sills had graduated from the university previously, studying psychology and philosophy on scholarship). In the span of eighteen years leading up to this film, he had found himself on Broadway and subsequent transition to film in 1914 with The Pit. It was this film that helped him find major status, although he would die of a heart attack at the age of 48 in 1930. In this respect, he does pretty well with displaying a rough-and-tumble nature without having to put all the emotion in silly gestures. Bennett walks through her role just as well, where one needs to balance a bit of passion and scorn without so much time on screen, with chemistry between her and Sills feeling pretty assured. Hughes plays off panic fine, although he is overshadowed not only by Sills and Bennett but also by Beery. One cannot resist a colorful rascal of a pirate when done right, and Beery does this in spades, as one would expect from the noted character actor (who would find further success in the following decade). The rest of the actors do just fine, where one needs to just make sure nothing incredibly hammy lurks in the way of the main stars. On the whole, it isn't too surprising to see why this was the audience favorite for 1924, as it is an interesting spectacle piece filled with ambition and useful components (notice in one scene the hand-coloring for the torches in a night scene) that make for a worthy curiosity piece to hold up over the decades. One can't really go wrong with adventure and a small bit of romance to go along with a viewing.

Next time: Battleship Potemkin (1925).

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Covered Wagon.

Review #1320: The Covered Wagon.

Cast: 
J. Warren Kerrigan (Will Banion), Lois Wilson (Molly Wingate), Alan Hale (Sam Woodhull), Ernest Torrence (William Jackson), Tully Marshall (Jim Bridger), Ethel Wales (Mrs. Wingate), Charles Ogle (Jesse Wingate), Guy Oliver (Kit Carson), and Johnny Fox (Jed Wingate) Directed by James Cruze (#1263 - The Roaring Road)

Review: 
What is it about the Western that inspires such curiosity? What inspired so many directors and studios to make their own tales (or adapt works) about cowboys, gunslingers, and other various subjects that dominated the film landscape for over half of the 20th century, doing so from the very get go with the first one shot in the United States (and second overall) in The Great Train Robbery (1903), which captivated audiences with its action in such quick time at 12 minutes. The evolution of film production in the two decades that followed meant that at some point one would strive to make a big budget Western epic to hang their cowboy hat on, at least until someone made one that looked better. The honor of being known as the first big-budget Western epic (made for roughly over $700,000 from Paramount Pictures) falls to this feature, which is adapted from the novel of the same name by Emerson Hough. Expense was not spared when it came to research to get costumes and locations scoped out, particularly when it came to finding a herd of wild bison (alongside other animals like oxen and horses) to roam the plains, complete with authentic wagons. If that sounds daunting enough, try being an actor having to spend months in the desert of Utah, dealing with various weather elements alongside being fairly distant from railroads, with one sequence involving wagons fording a torrent being a risky one to film in part because they had to actually swim for it alongside the accompanying horses and oxen. Simply put, one can trace Western epics and the level of craftsmanship one must take in executing ambition from costumes to characters to this film, which manages to hold itself fairly well without becoming too much a thing of the past.

It is an honest spectacle, welcome of curiosity for those who seek out fair pleasures. It has exactly the kind of things you would expect from a Western, with a clear hero, romantic lead and heavy to follow, and one can take a guess as to how these pioneers will do in their journey from Kansas to Oregon for 98 minutes - as long as one does not find themselves checking their watch from time to time or peeking at what comes next, you should do fine. It is the journey that counts when it comes to films, and how one enjoys the ride or trip with these actors and views that counts most, and this one does fine with that in mind - you could probably see this and at have some sort of interest in wondering about the plight of the pioneer, whether that means trouble with just getting to where they need to go or in-fights and so on. The highlight proves to be Torrence and Marshall, giving a bit of amusement as the comic relief, while Kerrigan and Wilson prove adequate if not too memorable people to look at through the lens of a routine romantic Western. Regardless, it proved an audience hit, making roughly seven million dollars, exceeding films now regarded as classics for that year such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Safety Last!, which now can all be found in the public domain for one to eye with curiosity. This film may not stand too highly with some of the Westerns that would come to pass over the next decade and beyond, but it still holds ground as a resilient charmer when it comes to entertainment, and that surely will prove enough for those who want to seek it most.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.