Driven! The Desmet Automobile Show (curated by Elif Rongen-Kaynakçi for Pordenone 2014)

Jewel Thieves Outwitted. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

Al volante! / Driven! The Desmet Automobile Show
With e-subtitles in English and Italian, grand piano: Maud Nelissen, at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 5 Oct 2014

Elif Rongen-Kaynakçi (GCM catalogue and website): "As the internal-combustion automobile (also known as the “horseless carriage”) approached its first quarter-century at the end of the first decade of the 20th century, the thrill of speed was a universally shared sensation, in a way that far exceeded the earlier marvel of the railway: now the vehicle and the mastery of speed was in our own hands – we were emancipated from the authority of the official driver. Speed inspired artists: the Futurist Manifesto was published in February 1909, just when speeds at Daytona Beach were topping 125 miles (201.17 kilometres) per hour. Popular art could be more sceptical, like the English music hall song of 1908:"

"A hundred miles an hour he went, and quite enjoyed the fun, Till a brewer’s dray got in his way and his day’s work was done. Motor racing was the new sports thrill: in the U.S., the Vanderbilt Cup was launched in 1904, and in Europe, the French Grand Prix was established in 1906. The last Grand Prix before the First World War, in 1914, was won by Christian Lautenschlager’s Mercedes, averaging 65 mph (104.61 km/h), while Peugeot drivers reached averages of 99 mph (159.33 km/h) in other events. Such races were jointly promoted by tyre manufacturers like Goodyear, Pirelli, Continental, and Michelin. Before the Great War, when the internal-combustion automobile would move on to new uses and inspire more sombre images, motor cars were still essentially a mark of status for the affluent. Motor shows flourished, displaying ever more innovative models. Motor excursions were a social fashion. Controlled-access highways were introduced. By 1910, Turin’s FIAT was among the largest automotive companies, opening a factory in New York following successful export. Overall, car production grew rapidly, as companies like Ford (established in 1903) converted to the assembly-line concept in 1913, making cars more and more available to the masses."

"And for film-makers, motor cars and the thrills of speed were irresistible. They offered a chic and up-to-the-minute new style for travelogues. For comedies, reckless driving was an inexhaustible source of fun – and the cars of a century ago proved to be worthy of the “endurance races” they had been subjected to, standing up very well to being bumped around, without the deception of trick effects. The motor car could also be a dramatic tool to speed up the action, though equally sometimes a pleasing distraction from the flow of the narrative."

"This selection of films reflects some of the ways in which motor cars were celebrated in the films of the pre-War era. All but three of these films come from the great Desmet Collection now held by EYE Filmmuseum. Jean Desmet (1875-1956) went from being a fairground showman to become an important Amsterdam exhibitor and distributor until World War I. When he gave up his business, he thriftily retained anything that might be of value, including posters, publicity materials, and films, some 900 of which still remain in the collection. The Desmet Collection (1907-1916), bearing witness to many popular phenomena of pre-war society by bringing us what was fashionable among the audiences of the time, will be commemorated in an exhibition, accompanied by an extensive catalogue, in Amsterdam, starting in December 2014." – Elif Rongen-Kaynakçi

All prints are from the EYE Filmmuseum, Amsterdam. All film notes by Elif Rongen-Kaynakçi and David Robinson.

LES DÉBUTS D’UN CHAUFFEUR (Der chauffeur als Anfänger) (Pathé – FR 1906) D: Georges Hatot; SC: André Heuzé; VFX, SFX: Segundo de Chomón; C: André Deed; 35 mm, 60 m, 3' (18 fps); no titles.
    "A demon motorist who runs down old ladies, policemen, perambulators, market stalls, and men on ladders provided even better quarry for the early French chase film than rolling pumpkins and runaway bulls. The car chase was to prove an enduring tradition, still doing frequent service a century later." - AA: A comedy, a road movie, a demolition derby, a chase movie. An early example of the film farce concept where the world perishes as the demon motorist speeds on. Lamp posts, baby carriages, vegatable stands, cyclists, porcelain services and horse carriages are demolished. Good slapstick. A beautiful print.

Les Pyrénées pittoresques. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

LES PYRÉNÉES PITTORESQUES (Een autotocht in de Pyreneën) (Pathé – FR 1909) D: ?; 35 mm, 120 m, 6' (18 fps), col. (stencil-colour); no titles.
    "Four young ladies, with their chauffeur and guide (with redundant megaphone) tour the beauties of the mountains with their picturesque waterfalls. The motor car and its passengers contribute human interest and continuity to this beautifully stencilled travelogue. A novelty is the masked screen, showing the audience the landscape as it is seen by the ladies through their binoculars." - AA: A travelogue. Beautiful composition, a sense of the sublime in the landscape, spectacular use of the very long shot. This print gives a good sense of a refined use of the stencil colour.

Auto di Robinet. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

AUTO DI ROBINET (Ambrosio – IT 1911) D: Marcel Fabre; C: Marcel Fabre (Robinet); 35 mm, 82 m, 4' (18 fps); col. (tinted, Desmet method); no titles.
    "A later Italian version of the chase film. Robinet’s apparent lack of a vehicle registration plate sets off a chase by a band of idiotic and apparently blind police on bicycles. In this case it is the pursuers, not the motor car, which precipitates chaos. As a pay-off, Robinet reveals that his registration plate has been there all the time, had they known where to look." - AA: A farce, a chase film. The police force thinks Robinet has no registration plate, and the entire police bicycle corps is set to chase him. They are the most bumbling and inept policemen ever seen. They stumble upon a railway roadblock, a ladder... The ineptitude of the police is of cosmic magnitude. When they reach Robinet, he displays the registration attached at the back of his pants.

Panne d'auto. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

Panne d'auto. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

PANNE D’AUTO (Een autopech) (Celio Film – IT 1912) D: Baldassare Negroni; C: Francesca Bertini, Gemma de Ferrari, Alberto Collo, Emilio Ghione; orig. l: 320 m; 35 mm, 269 m, 13' (18 fps), col. (tinted); titles: DUT; Desmet Collection.
    "In this charming and precocious comedy-romance, the heroine challenges her rival suitors to compete to prove who is the fastest driver. The moustachio’d Lieutenant breaks his earlier records by reaching 100 kilometres within 15 minutes. Alberto’s 24-horsepower racer struggles to travel 10 kilometres before breaking down, leaving the couple stranded in the countryside. Even though Alberto proves a rather incompetent provider of food and drink in an emergency, the afternoon develops into a romantic countryside adventure, and love. Thus, despite his poor motoring prowess, Alberto proves the victor. After the breakdown and subsequent love-making, the motor starts up surprisingly readily – suggesting that already, a century ago, a breakdown could be contrived as a convenient seduction opportunity." - AA: A romantic comedy. Alice declares that of her two rivals she will pick the fastest driver. Alberto seems hopeless as his car breaks down by a spectacular landscape. In the middle of nowhere Alberto takes Alice to a walk in the nature, they touch, she surrenders... with faces glowing they return home, as upon their return to the car it turns out that the "car trouble" was a ruse by Albert. Beautiful print, beautiful toning and tinting.

LES GORGES DE SIERROZ (Eclipse – FR 1913) D: ?; 35 mm, 85 m, 4' (18 fps), col. (tinted); no titles; Desmet Collection.
    "A travelogue which appears to be more concerned with promoting bridges and auto roads than celebrating the natural splendours of the area. The “touring” car (model unidentified) – shown in impressive panning shots – is demonstrated as a means of sightseeing. The editing is curious in its continuous alternation of the waterfalls and the car emitting smoke." - AA: A travelogue with a lot of very long shots of mountains, rivers, and waterfalls, including a boat ride into the caves. Beautiful cinematography, fine toning and tinting.

Léonce flirte. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

LÉONCE FLIRTE (Gaumont – FR 1913) D: Léonce Perret; C: Léonce Perret (Léonce), Suzanne Grandais (Suzanne); 35 mm, 310 m, 15' (18 fps), col. (tinted and toned); no titles; Desmet Collection.
    "An episode in the ongoing saga of Léonce and Suzanne’s turbulent but loving married life. Spotting him through her binoculars flirting with an elegant lady, Suzanne departs the marital home in a huff – and in the family automobile. The automobile contrives to break down, obliging her to spend the night in a fisherman’s cottage, where Léonce, bicycle-borne, catches up with her. The cottage has only one bedroom, which the couple must share... The next day the automobile, having thus effected reconciliation, discreetly returns them home." - AA: A romantic comedy, Léonce Perret at his best, probably shooting at the Côte d'Azur. A comedy of remarriage, with Léonce winning back his beloved Suzanne, another piece of evidence of Perret as an originator of a noble line in the cinema that continued with Lubitsch, McCarey, Renoir, and Ophuls.

ROBINET CHAUFFEUR MIOPE (Ambrosio – IT 1914) D: Marcel Fabre; C: Marcel Fabre (Robinet); 35 mm, 127 m, 7' (18 fps); no titles; Desmet Collection.
    "Despite his chronic myopia (he has some difficulty finding his way into the car) Robinet takes a driving lesson from a firm that promises a licence within 24 hours. However, the destruction to the city caused by his first lesson costs him dearly: his apartment is left with not even a bed. Again the familiar car-chase stunts are done with surprising immediacy and vigour." - AA: A farce, a chase, a comedy of destruction, Robinet chauffeur miope belongs to the same line of development as Les Débuts d'un chauffeur, the first film in this programme. During his driving lesson Robinet destroys the city - not just objects but entire houses and is stopped by nothing less than a steamroller. There is no lynching here but a long line of damages claimants. Robinet is left with not a penny and but a tiny carpet on which he can sleep. Interesting tinting (olive). A good print.

L'automobile della morte. Photo: EYE Filmmuseum/Desmet Collection. Click to enlarge.

L’AUTOMOBILE DELLA MORTE (De doodenrit) (Ambrosio – IT 1912) D: ?; C: Oreste Grandi, Mario Bonnard; 35 mm, 249 m, 13' (18 fps), col. (tinted); no titles; Desmet Collection.
    "The automobile is central to this dark drama and its equivocal but presumably tragic ending. Oreste Grandi plays a motor taxi driver who is ruined and driven into exile in France through his wife’s selfish extravagance, but returns to avenge himself for her infidelity in his absence." - AA: A tragedy. The synopsis is above. The hatpin is the incriminating piece of evidence in this story of a disastrous marriage. The driver with his goggles and his massive fur coat reminds me of Jean Cocteau's review of Orson Welles's Macbeth. The finale is the death drive of the desperate driver who has taken his unhappy wife Nini with him. We see the wreckage by the shore. A fine composition, a beautiful print, maybe with a slightly duped look but lovely.

[ZIGOTO PROMÈNE SES AMIS] (Zigoto en zijn automobiel) (Gaumont – FR 1912) D: Jean Durand; C: Jean Durand (Zigoto); 35 mm 104 m, 6' (18 fps), col. (tinted); no titles; Desmet Collection.
    "The car is the unchallenged star, as it gyrates madly across roads, descends stairways, and repeatedly and destructively bursts into innocent homes. The leading vehicle must have been very stoutly constructed to withstand all this. It has a double for the later scenes, where it has been so beaten up that its wheels are at a pitiful angle, though it is still able to transport Zigoto’s persistently long-suffering friends." - AA: A farce, a demolition comedy. Again the world is at peril. With his car Zigoto assaults clothing stores, construction sites... the car catches fire and is extinguished by water. Zigoto gets to haul his car back home. An ok print with a slightly low contrast.

JEWEL THIEVES OUTWITTED (Hepworth – GB 1913) D: Frank Wilson; C: Jack Hulcup, Violent Hopson, Rachel de Solla, Harry Royston; 35 mm, 216 m, 11' (18 fps); no titles; Desmet Collection.
    "This may well be the most ambitious chase film of pre-war years: the hero’s efforts to avoid the murderous jewel thieves involve horse-drawn transport, trains, automobiles, and a lengthy and well-shot sequence with an aeroplane – an invention with less than a decade of history." - AA: A crime film, a thriller, an action film, a chase film. An early exciting example of British wit in crime action cinema, before Alfred Hitchcock, before James Bond. Impressive mise-en-scène, a dynamic sense of space, a natural talent in filming action, vigorous editing, resembling early adventure serials. An often beautiful print with a slightly high contrast from a source with occasional damage.

Regeneration

John McCann as Owen aged 10. From Projectorhead.in

Maanalainen New York (Fox Film Corp. - US 1915) D: R. A. Walsh; SC: R. A. Walsh, Carl Harbaugh; DP: Georges Benoit; C: Rockcliffe Fellowes (Owen Conway), Anna Q. Nilsson (Marie Deering), William Sheer (Skinny), Carl Harbaugh (District Attorney Ames), James Marcus (Jim Conway), Maggie Weston (Maggie Conway), John McCann (Owen, aged 10), Harry McCoy (Owen, aged 17), Bill Rathbone (friend of Owen); orig. l: 5 rl.; 35 mm, 4299 ft, 68' (17 fps); titles: ENG; print source: The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Preserved by The Museum of Modern Art; with support from the Celeste Bartos Fund for Film Preservation.
    With e-subtitles in Italian, grand piano: John Sweeney at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 5 Oct 2014

Richard Koszarski (GCM catalogue and website): "In his 1974 autobiography, Each Man in His Time, Raoul Walsh devoted seven full pages to his first feature picture, Regeneration. His account is quite flavorful and filled with classic Walshian anecdotes, some of which may even be true. Walsh was filling in a great historical blank spot here; Regeneration hadn’t been seen by anyone in decades, and unlike some lost masterwork of Griffith or Tourneur, it had no status at all in the developing narrative of film history. No one was looking for it, and no one was likely to challenge him on anything he might say about it. Then one day in 1976, when Walsh’s memoir was still in bookstores, a meter reader in Missoula, Montana, discovered a cellarful of nitrate in a building scheduled for demolition. The cache was acquired by David Shepard, who not only identified one of the titles as Raoul Walsh’s Regeneration, but recognized its significance. Shepard copied the already decomposing print onto 16 mm negative and donated the original nitrate to the Museum of Modern Art, which produced its own 35 mm preservation negative that same year."

"Publicity surrounding Walsh’s arrival at Fox in 1915 made much of the director’s “years of Griffith experience.” In fact, the few films he had worked on for Griffith were all he had to offer in the way of credentials, but they were enough to win him a remarkable possessory credit. Years before Frank Capra, Regeneration begins with a dramatic “name above-the-title” announcement: “William Fox Presents R.A. Walsh’s Drama Regeneration.”"

"Walsh’s film (for which he and his half-brother, Carl Harbaugh, took screenplay credit) is based on the autobiographical legend of Owen Frawley Kildare, which first appeared in book form in 1903 as My Mamie Rose: The Story of My Regeneration. An enormous success, it established Kildare as a “famous and exemplary instance of Progressive-Era self-transcendence,” as Tony Tracy wrote in Film History in 2011. Working with Walter Hackett, Kildare later adapted his story to the stage as The Regeneration, with Arnold Daly playing the lead on Broadway in 1908. (Tracy not only describes each incarnation of the Kildare story, but suggests that the Irish immigrant saga offered by Kildare is so highly fictionalized that it might be better understood as ethnic impersonator autobiography.) Ironically, Kildare was unable to manage his brief moment of fame, and after failing to repeat his initial literary success suffered a rapid physical and emotional decline, dying at the Manhattan State Hospital for the Insane on Ward’s Island in February 1911. This sad ending would provide the conclusion to August Blom’s unauthorized version of the Kildare story, released later that year by Nordisk as Det mørke Punkt."

"No earlier version of Kildare’s story contained anything much in the way of spectacle, and spectacle is what a Griffith man would have been expected to provide. So into the middle of this adaptation someone at Fox decided to incorporate an evocation of the worst civic disaster to strike New York in the 20th century: the burning of the excursion vessel General Slocum. On June 15, 1904, parishioners from a Lower East Side church had chartered the Slocum for a picnic cruise up the East River and then out to Long Island. They did not get far before a fire (said to have been caused by a discarded cigarette) raced through the ship, killing 1,021 people."

"Fox turned the filming of these scenes into a well-organized media spectacle, inviting “a large number of metropolitan newspaper men” to cover the burning of the ship (with yellow smoke pots) and the rescue of its passengers from the Hudson River. Much of this footage was shot near Nyack, but the New York Sun reported that the fire scenes were filmed closer to New York, off Spuyten Duyvil in the Bronx. Local residents called out police and fire rescue boats, fearing a repeat not only of the Slocum disaster, but also of the sinking of another picnic excursion boat, the Eastland, which had turned over at its pier in Chicago only a few weeks earlier, killing another 844 passengers. Scenes featuring “thirty professional diving girls who were to dive from the uppermost decks” appear to have been shot later near the yacht club at Glen Island, just north of the city on Long Island Sound. Critics and audiences were impressed with the scene, but few had any illusions regarding its relevance to the plot. Peter Milne, while praising the sequence as “excellent… melodrama,” also complained that “the ship is burned for no definite reason whatsoever.”"

"Reporters covering the action seemed surprised when the director ordered retakes of a fight over life preservers. “I want to see more men helping women, more life preservers in the air, more smoke and more excitement,” he ordered. As extras floated in the water, “dodging burning bits of wood and waste,” Walsh was said to have shouted, “Don’t laugh. Remember this is serious; you’re all dying and you’re all excited.”"

"Fox press agents told reporters that the fire in the film is deliberately set by Skinny after a fight between gangs, which is not what we see in the surviving print. Some accounts describe other missing material, including scenes of “Chinatown by night and day” featuring “Tom Lee, the Mayor of Chinatown” and “Rose Livingston, the Angel of Chinatown.” The Chinatown material may have been deleted on the film’s reissue in January 1919 (“care has been taken to eliminate everything interfering with fast, snappy, sustained action,” Moving Picture World reported), may have been lost to decomposition, or may never have been included in the first place. Edge code numbering on the surviving print shows that the stock was manufactured in 1918, consistent with the reissue date."

"In addition to Chinatown, press accounts also referred to scenes of the Lower East Side, Chatham Square, and especially the Bowery. Except for an episode showing a teenaged Owen working the East Side docks south of the Williamsburg Bridge, none of these locations can be verified. It would have been especially difficult to film on the Bowery in 1915, because the entire street was heavily shaded by a hulking elevated train line. Generic tenement scenes could more easily have been shot in Hell’s Kitchen, on the West Side, where several studios were located and the streets were wider, affording better light for photography."

"So when Variety noted that “Fox will have photographed reproductions of Callahan’s famous old Bowery saloon… Chicory Hall [sic], and other East Side reminders,” it meant that these locations had been reproduced in a studio, not photographed on location documentary-style. “Chickory Hall,” Owen’s gangster den, is clearly a set, as is the generic “Grogan’s,” built on a roofless open-air stage, probably at one of Fox’s studios in Fort Lee. Walsh’s memory of the open-air Ford’s Theatre set in The Birth of a Nation, built for the Lincoln assassination sequence in which he appeared as John Wilkes Booth, seems very strong here."

"One thing Walsh did not remember very clearly in 1974 was the ending of Regeneration – an account which might have gone unchallenged but for the discovery of the Missoula print two years
later. According to Walsh, the film ended with the camera moving in on a harrowing close-up of the grieving heroine, her face wet with tears after “mobsters hunted down and killed [her] reformed lover after he abandoned the rackets.” The scene is indeed tremendously effective, and works perfectly at the conclusion of one of Walsh’s greatest films – The Roaring Twenties." – Richard Koszarski

AA:  Revisited the debut feature film of Raoul Walsh, already displaying an authoritative approach as a director.

As a gangster film Regeneration belongs to the "road to Hollywood" period, explored in Pordenone in the seminal 1988 festival, displaying different approaches and styles before the standardization of the studio system, the star system and the genre system.

The classic Hollywood gangster films glamorized crime, and they still do, albeit unconsciously. Regeneration tells an anti-glamorous version about gangs. Its basis is in realism, even naturalism. There is an almost documentary passion in recording in vivid detail the life of the New York slums at the turn of the century. The abandoned children, the laundrywoman at work, the drunken husband in rags, the uncared babies at the staircase, the life on the streets, the ice cube business, the construction sites, the saloon frequented by the underworld, the singing waiters, the super obese man, the guy with the giant nose, the dreary hideaway of the gangsters. Raoul Walsh observes all this at eye level, as one of us, not from above, not in the sense of the picturesque. We sense his compassion and empathy. We understand how abandoned and abused children become criminals in order to survive.

The visual storytelling is brisk. We follow the progress of Owen, orphaned at the age of ten, to a fighter and a leader of the gang. The images are stark, the editing is deft.

The first meeting of Owen and Marie at the saloon where the D.A.'s entourage has come to observe the exotic gangsters is a turning-point for both. Marie becomes a settlement worker. Owen starts on his own personal way of regeneration, freeing himself from the life with no future, learning to write, learning to help others.

Walsh is here already an excellent action director, for instance in the sequence of the burning ship and in the final battle sequence between the gangsters and the policemen.

But he is equally good in scenes of sadness, solitude, pain, suffering and deprivation. No other master of the gangster film was as profound in psychology as Walsh, from Regeneration till White Heat.

Many Walsh films are thought lost. Regeneration is a treasure, preserved from a source with signs of decomposition, even severe damage, with footage bordering on abstraction, yet making perfect sense.

Das Frauenhaus von Rio / Girls for Sale. Rio's Road to Hell

Vivian Gibson (Ilona Schwarz-Lopez), Ernst Deutsch (Plüsch). Ilona and Plüsch, old friends and perhaps more, meet after a long while. Now Ilona is a successful businesswoman and Plüsch a petty operator. Photo: Bundesarchiv-Filmarchiv Berlin.

Ilona's "art institute" in Rio. Photo: Bundesarchiv-Filmarchiv Berlin

Vivian Gibson (Ilona Schwarz-Lopez). Ilona overhears Verloost in a meeting. Verloost is desperately in debt, and Ilona proceeds to hire him as her private secretary on the road to Rio. Photo: Bundesarchiv-Filmarchiv Berlin.

Riscoperte e restauri / Rediscoveries and Restorations
The Steinhoff Project

Tyttökauppa Riossa (Das Mädchenschiff) (Sparvieri) (Orplid - DE 1927) D: Hans Steinhoff; P: Georg M. Jacoby; SC: B.E. Lüthge, based on the novel by Norbert Jacques; DP: Franz Planer; AD: [Hans] Sohnle & [Otto] Erdmann; prod. mgr: Bruno Lopinski; C: Ernst Deutsch (Plüsch), Albert Steinrück (Plümowski / Schröder), Julie Serda (his wife), Suzy Vernon (Kordula, his daughter), Vivian Gibson (Ilona Schwarz-Lopez), Hans Stüwe (Verloost), Kurt Gerron (Kastilio), Lissi Arna (Josepha), Robert Scholz (Alfredo), Gertrud Walter (Gertrud), Else Reval (Frau Garcia), Anna von Palen (Frau Gold), Eugen Neufeld (Captain), Georg Baselt, Bruno Eichgrün, Margot, Walther-Landa, Henry Bender, Margot Walter, Georg Baselt, Conrad, Gerlach, Sternberg, Schwarz, Damatow, Gungowski; première: 16.9.1927, Tauentzien-Palast, Berlin; orig. l.: 2683 m (2674 m. after censor cuts); DCP (from 35 mm, 2323 m), 93' (transferred at 22 fps), col. (tinted); titles: GER; print source: Bundesarchiv-Filmarchiv, Berlin.
    The Swiss source print has French and German intertitles.
    With e-subtitles in English and Italian, grand piano: Günter A. Buchwald with a percussionist at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 5 Oct 2014

Horst Claus (Catalogue): "Stories about the disappearance of innocent young provincial beauties ensnared by the unscrupulous white slave trade were popular throughout the first half of the 20th century. As a film genre, the subject can be traced back to Viggo Larsen’s Danish white-slave film Den hvide Slavinde (The White Slave Girl) of 1906/07. Twenty years later, its continued box-office appeal manifested itself in January/February 1927, when several German film producers announced, independently of each other, the forthcoming release of four Mädchenhändlerfilme (white slave trade films). Three months later, Ufa premiered Die Frauengasse von Algier (The Women’s Street of Algiers). A month after that, Hans Steinhoff began work on Das Frauenhaus von Rio (The Women’s House of Rio), at the Ufa studio in Berlin-Tempelhof. The film was in production from mid-June to the end of July, less than two weeks of which were spent in the studio. Location filming took place in Hamburg and the nearby village of Wohltorf. The picture’s final cost of 132,255 Marks and the speed with which it was made are characteristic of the German Mittelfilm (commercial films, similar to American B-movies, with a medium-size budget, made as everyday cinema entertainment for consumption by German provincial audiences). Asked shortly after its completion whether he was concerned at the prospect of being regarded as a commercial film director, Steinhoff replied: “Not in the least!” On the contrary, he explained, “People who approach these films with a sneer and try to find excuses for making them should leave them alone. Even the [then extremely popular] ‘Heidelberg-’ and ‘Rhine-films’ have to be made with love, artistic sincerity, and the full support of their director’s personality, as otherwise they would be unbearable.”"

"During the final days of the silent era Steinhoff was one of the busiest directors in the German industry, making up to five films per year. It was undoubtedly his reputation as an efficient, reliable filmmaker of commercially successful pictures that prompted the “Doyen of the German Film Industry” Oskar Messter and his partner, film producer Georg M. Jacoby, to choose Steinhoff to direct the first film of their newly-formed production and distribution company Orplid-Messtro. So convinced were they of the film’s quality and profitability that even before it was released they signed Steinhoff for another three pictures."

"Based on a novel by the creator of Dr. Mabuse, author Norbert Jacques, originally serialized in 1927 in the Wiener Allgemeine Zeitung, Das Frauenhaus von Rio was initially banned by the censor on the grounds that the finished product glamorized the milieu and presented its subject matter as an exciting adventure – contrary to the producers’ insistence that it had been made as a warning against the international white slave trade. To get the censor’s decision reversed, Jacoby and Messter managed to win the support of the “International Committee for the Fight against the White Slave Trade”. This organization actually became the film’s patron, and after three minor changes what had previously been considered as having a negative stimulating and immoral effect on its audiences, practically overnight became a valuable deterrent, praised for its socially useful and enlightening tendency: “In their brutality, the cruel and immoral scenes showing the slave traders at their ‘game’ are particularly well-suited to frighten off young girls from coming into contact with and being at the mercy of this type of person.” From then on (wherever possible), the film’s opening nights were promoted through and accompanied by advertising campaigns of the “International Committee … against the White Slave Trade”."

"A box office hit from the start – not least because of Ernst Deutsch’s brilliant portrayal of the slimy eternal loser Plüsch – the film kept its Number One position within Messtro’s distribution programme throughout the 1927-28 season. It was distributed across Europe, and in 1930 surfaced in the U.S. in a truncated 60-minute version with added sound, under the sensationalist title Girls for Sale, credited (without any reference to Steinhoff) to Bud Pollard, a minor American editor and director. Re-released and shown in May 1931 in New York as Rio’s Road to Hell, the film led to protests from Brazilian officials, who regarded it as derogatory and offensive to Brazil and Latin America. In 1949-50, Eugen York directed a German remake, with a script by Norbert Jacques."

"Due to the brittle condition of its nitrate original, the print screened at the Giornate is a 1:1 digital transfer of the film’s Swiss version, Das Mädchenschiff (The Ship of Girls), with German and French intertitles, held by the Cinémathèque Suisse. The plot relates the revenge taken by Plüsch, a small-time criminal and one of life’s losers, on his financially successful partner in crime, Plümowski, who constantly cheats him out of the spoils he considers his due. When he discovers that Plümowski leads a double life, as a respected Hamburg businessman and as a partner of the elegant Ilona  Schwarz-Lopez who runs a brothel in Rio de Janeiro, Plüsch devises a plan by which Plümowski’s daughter Kordula (whose ambition to become a famous dancer is violently resisted by her father) falls victim to Ilona’s scheme of luring innocent young girls into her establishment by promising them a successful dancing career in Rio. Comparing the print with the censorship card of the German original, the Swiss distributor seems to have removed a number intertitles considered
superfluous. However, most of the 360 metres missing from this version are due to the deterioration of the film’s third reel, and concern (a) Plümowski’s resistance to his daughter’s ambitions of becoming a dancer and his wife’s attempt to calm things down by sending Kordula to her uncle in the town of Eckernförde, and (b) a minor subplot introducing a particularly naïve Polish girl named
Josepha, who has officially replied to the advertisement for the supposed training opportunity in Rio and subsequently joins Kordula and Ilona’s secretary Verloost on their journey to Brazil. Because of
the missing material, she suddenly seems to appear from nowhere. The film’s original negative was destroyed on 24 September 1928, in a fire at Ufa’s printing lab Aktiengesellschaft für Filmfabrikation (Afifa), where it had been stored for safekeeping." – Horst Claus

AA: A mediocre entertainment film marked by an atmosphere of ordinary degradation.

The bosses of the criminal network are matter-of-fact professionals - Albert Steinrück as Plümowski and Vivian Gibson as Ilona Schwarz-Lopez, in charge of the white slave traffic from Europe to the "art institute" in Rio.

Ernst Deutsch as Plüsch is a petty criminal determined to break it big. When Plümowski double-crosses him in a case of exposing a jewel robbery Plüsch devises an ingenious revenge / blackmail plan luring Plümowski's daughter Kordula (Suzy Vernon) into Ilona's next talent shipment.

The white slave traffic was a terrible problem then, and it is an even much bigger problem today. As Horst Claus reports above, white slavery films had become a successful film genre since 1906-1907 when Danes started producing films about the topic. Frenchmen made successful white slave films in the 1930s. In Finland Teuvo Tulio was an avid viewer of those films as can be seen in his films about prostitution.

The central subject is Plümowski's double life. In his private life he is a respected family man called Schröder. He is an over-protective father to his beloved daughter Kordula, and he would not like her to dance in an innocent evening celebration at the local garden restaurant. He drags her with force from the rehearsals.

The most exciting element of the story is Plüsch's revenge plan as he discovers his boss's second life. The most poignant turning-point is when Plüsch encourages Kordula to leave home: "You are a born dancer". But this well-deserved encouragement is only a part of his callous plan.

In George Loane Tucker's Traffic in Souls the businessman's double life was also a central story concept. I seem to remember that the exposure of the nature of his business took place at the very moment of his daughter's wedding. In the print we saw of Das Frauenhaus von Rio there is no such scene of public exposure of the source of the mighty man's wealth.

There is a dimension of a social background in the story of the trajectory of Verloost (Hans Stüwe). "Because of the war and the family situation I lost everything", he explains to Ilona.

The general feeling is tawdry in this work of pulp fiction. Memorable aspects:
    The amusing key to the secret code of the gangsters as the MacGuffin.
    Plüsch's naive fantasy of getting rich with visions of a roadster and a "Blockhaus in Zehlendorf". Seen in an elaborate daydream sequence with funny superimpositions.
    From behind the curtain Ilona slips 5000 Mark to Plüsch as he handles the Kordula exchange.
    The triangle drama on the ship to Rio: Verloost is attracted to Kordula and becomes her protector, and Ilona, who had had expectations of her own about the handsome young man, is openly frustrated.
    When Plüsch is getting the upper hand on Plümowski / Schröder, he announces his claim on a written note echoing what Plümowski had done earlier: 50.000 Mark.
    The sending of telegrams from the ship to Rio and from Rio to the ship expressed via inserts of animated waves.
    Kordula's subjective view at the institute in Rio as she discovers the bars on her window.
    The private dinner for Ilona and Verloost, Verloost balancing the table with paper.
    The peephole in the clock: from it Kordula finally sees what is taking place at the institute.
    Kordula saves herself from the clutches of her first customer via burning his hand with the cigar in his extra long protruding cigar holder.
    Ilona takes poison. Schröder strangles Plüsch and becomes mad like Mabuse did in the earlier famous story by Norbert Jacques.

My main lesson from this film is that I now admire Fritz Lang more. He created art from sensation in the Dr. Mabuse story by Norbert Jacques. Hans Steinhoff never rises above his subject-matter.

Horst Claus reports above that this is a 1:1 digital transfer from the Swiss print. There are occasional damage marks, even of total damage, and as reported above, footage is missing, but from an evidently extremely difficult source a watchable viewing experience has been made possible.

When a Man Loves

The real-life couple Dolores Costello (as Manon Lescaut) and John Barrymore (as Des Grieux). Courtesy George Eastman House, Rochester, NY. Click to enlarge.

Kun mies rakastaa (Per amore di una donna) (Warner Brothers Pictures – US 1927) D: Alan Crosland; prod: Jack L. Warner; SC: Bess Meredyth, based on the novel Histoire du Chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut (1733; rev. 1753) by the Abbé Antoine-François Prévost; DP: Byron Haskin, asst: Frank Kesson; ED: Harold McCord; AD: Ben Carré; ass D: Gordon Hollingshead; art titles: Victor Vance; titles: Don Ryan; M: Henry Hadley, perf. Vitaphone Symphony Orchestra, cond. Herman Heller; sd. rec: George Groves; electrical eff: F. [Frank] N. Murphy; stunts: Duke Green, Robert Rose; C: John Barrymore (Chevalier Fabien des Grieux), Dolores Costello (Manon Lescaut), Sam De Grasse (Monsieur Guillot de Morfontaine), Holmes Herbert (Jean Tiberge), Warner Oland (André Lescaut), Marcelle Corday (Marie), Charles Clary (lay brother), Templar Saxe (Baron Chevral), Eugenie Besserer (landlady), Rose Dione (Nana), Bertram Grassby (Duc de Richelieu), Stuart Holmes (Louis XV), Dick Sutherland (tavern proprietor), Noble Johnson (apache), Tom Santschi (captain of the ship), Tom Wilson (convict on ship), Tom Williams, Myrna Loy (prostitute), Louise Emmons (old woman in tavern), Jack Wise?, Scotty Mattraw? (bailiff); rel: 3.2.1927 (Selwyn Theatre, New York); orig. l: 10,081 ft (10 rl.); 35 mm, ca. 9900 ft., 110' (24 fps), sd.; titles: ENG; print source: UCLA Film & Television Archive, Los Angeles.
    Restoration supervised by Bob Gitt.
    A print with the Vitaphone score (originally sound on disc) reconstructed on the soundtrack with e-subtitles in Italian at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 4 Oct 2014

Catalogue: THE MUSIC

Philip C. Carli: "Henry Kimball Hadley (1871-1937), born in Somerville, Massachusetts, studied principally in the United States before finishing his studies in Vienna in 1894. On his return in 1896 he began an extraordinarily wide-ranging career as composer and conductor, achieving considerable success in both fields. His compositions include five operas, choral works, five symphonies, and much chamber music. He was the first conductor of the San Francisco Symphony (1911-15) and the first American-born conductor to hold a regular post with the New York Philharmonic (Associate Conductor, 1923-27). He was also, coincidentally, Lionel Barrymore’s music theory and composition teacher."

"Despite Hadley’s allegiance with the more conservative elements of American music, he did have an interest in music technology and links to recording in particular. His wife, soprano Inez Barbour, frequently sang popular and classical material in the major American recording studios. Hadley himself began making orchestral records by the acoustical process in 1921. Subsequent work with the New York Philharmonic led to him conducting the orchestra in the first musical short on the first Vitaphone program in 1926, a performance of Wagner’s Tannhäuser overture. The orchestra playing the compiled score by William Axt and David Mendoza for the accompanying feature, Don Juan, was directed by Vitaphone’s chief conductor Herman Heller."

"According to musicologist Hannah Lewis in a revealing article on the music for When a Man Loves (Journal of the Society for American Music, August 2014), it was Heller who approached Warners and Hadley with the idea of a through-composed score for John Barrymore’s successor to Don Juan, to be based upon the Abbé Prévost’s novel Manon Lescaut. The terms of Vitaphone’s contract gave Hadley only five weeks to prepare a score, intended to be mostly original, though use of other composers’ themes was allowed provided they were in the public domain. Payment was to be $5,000 – a relatively modest amount for a production whose shooting expenses alone have been estimated at $500,000. The score’s copyright would belong entirely to Warner Bros."

"In addition to giving Hadley access to a print of the film, Warners supplied a list of cues they thought musically important, with suggestions about their treatment. Hadley waxed enthusiastic to the press: “Much more opportunity is given the composer than in writing an opera, because in the moving picture the action changes constantly...I have written six operas and music in every form for voices and orchestra, but I cannot remember ever composing music to any theme which gave me such delight from beginning to end as ‘Manon,’ the most beautiful of photo-plays.”"

"Surviving musical material, including full score and sketches, shows that Hadley did not compose an entirely new score, but, like Handel and Rossini, reused past material, in this case the third act finale from his opera The Atonement of Pan. Considering the material’s bulk, the compressed schedule, and the very large orchestra demanded, Hadley may have had help in scoring, probably from Heller. It is also possible that Hadley was simply a very fast worker – one of the fastest in film music history, perhaps, as the full score also includes an unused 49-page overture."

"The recording took place in October 1926 at the Manhattan Opera House Vitaphone studio. Despite its rushed creation, Hadley’s score for When a Man Loves is superb; arguably, it is his finest dramatic composition. He was a conservative but fluent and inventive composer with a finely-tuned sense for instrumental color, and the orchestration is both characteristic and masterful. To some extent he followed established silent film scoring practice by dividing his work into 115 cues. But within those cues, when allowed the screen time, he proves an affecting and powerful melodist, as in the love theme for Barrymore and Dolores Costello, initially scored as a clarinet solo, or in the furious section accompanying the prison ship sequence at the film’s end. Though harmonies move with the fluidity of Wagner’s, his melodic and dramatic style owes more to Puccini and the early 20th century Italians, with their flexible expressivity and frequent coups de théâtre. The overall effect is much more like a combination of Tosca and classical Hollywood film scoring of the 1930s and 40s than the hybrid tapestries heard in Joseph Carl Breil’s scores for D.W. Griffith or Erno Rapee’s for Fox’s What Price Glory? (1926) and 7th Heaven (1927)."

"Finally, Hadley achieved something very special and indeed revolutionary: When a Man Loves is really a score designed to be heard as a recorded film score, rather than played live. The film is long; the score makes extraordinary musical demands, especially in the last two reels; and a live public performance with the film all the way through without a break might almost kill any orchestra. But by recording the score in ten-minute sections, following the length of Vitaphone discs, Heller and his musicians could take respite and deal with retakes before the next onslaught began. Mordaunt Hall in the New York Times was certainly impressed by the results: “This orchestra effect was so good that there were many in the audience who forgot until the last moment that there were no musicians in the pit. They were reminded of the absence of the orchestra when the body of musicians was depicted on the screen, and then the spectators were moved to applaud.” We should follow suit with our own ovation, honoring artists now long gone but whose work still brings astonishment and delight." Philip C. Carli

A longer, more detailed version of this note is available (in English only) on the Giornate del Cinema Muto website.

Catalogue: THE FILM

Jay Weissberg: "On the surface, it would seem that Warner Brothers and John Barrymore were good for each other. When he signed his second contract with the studio in early 1925, he’d just returned from London, where his production of Hamlet (as producer, director, and star) was generally considered a triumph – unexpected, given British wariness about an American playing the role in Shakespeare’s homeland. Laurence Olivier was seventeen at the time, and later recalled, “When he was on stage, the sun came out.”"

"Nascent talks with Ufa to co-star him with Emil Jannings in Faust unfortunately came to nothing, but on his return to the States, Barrymore was riding high from acclaim as America’s greatest actor. The terms of his Warners contract reflect this status: $76,250 per film, a suite at Los Angeles’ Ambassador Hotel, a chauffeured limousine, and approval of scripts and co-stars, among other perks. The initial agreement was for two pictures, but in September 1925, while completing the first, The Sea Beast, he negotiated for a third film, provisionally announced as Paolo and Francesca, based on Dante. In February 1926 Warners switched properties and publicized Barrymore’s new project as The Tavern Knight, from the Rafael Sabatini novel; the following month Alan Crosland came on board as director. Louella Parsons broke the news later in March that the next Barrymore film, co-starring Dolores Costello, would instead be Manon Lescaut. (Warners held on to the idea of casting Barrymore in The Tavern Knight, announcing it as John’s first all-talkie as late as December 1928; it never went into production.)"

"Manon was not exactly a fresh property: besides the three operas (at that time) adapted from the Abbé Prévost novel, there were already a number of film treatments. Production got underway at the end of March 1926, with screenwriter Bess Meredyth bowdlerizing the novel to make it more palatable to the tastes of the era: Manon is no longer Prévost’s capricious harlot but an innocent girl from the countryside, in love with the Chevalier des Grieux yet forced into an immoral relationship with the roué Guillot de Morfontaine. Variety estimated that the production costs for the lengthy shoot, which ended in early June, reached close to $1 million, though H. Mark Glancy, in his study of Warner Bros. grosses, gives a more likely figure of $500,000. Whatever the actual amount, there’s no denying the film’s lavish design: Ben Carré’s extensive sets included building an entire French village, and according to the hyperbolic promotional booklet, 24 original costumes from the Louis XV period were borrowed “from the French government,” with Warner Brothers posting a $24,000 bond to guarantee their safety."

"The release was delayed by several months, probably to allow some spacing between it and the earlier Barrymore-Crosland partnership Don Juan, which opened at the beginning of August. Like that film, the Manon story was used to showcase Warners’ collaboration with the new Vitaphone process: in early October, Film Daily announced that noted American composer Henry Hadley was preparing an orchestral score, to be recorded later that month. Motion Picture News mentioned a successful preview screening in Pasadena sometime in November, when the film’s title was still Manon Lescaut, but that finally changed in early January, when the studio settled upon When a Man Loves, no doubt to distinguish it from the Ufa film Manon Lescaut released in the U.S. in November."

"When a Man Loves opened in New York in February 1927, a full halfyear after Don Juan, which was still playing in a Broadway cinema. The premiere was a lavish event, and predictions of a long run proved to be accurate – the film remained in Manhattan for five months. According to Glancy, When a Man Loves earned back twice the amount it cost; Warner’s three Vitaphone synchronized films (Don Juan, When a Man Loves, and The Better ‘Ole) “accounted for 31% of the season’s total costs and returned 36% of total earnings.” Critical reception however was decidedly mixed: the crushing weight of expectation sat heavily on all John Barrymore vehicles in the immediate wake of his greatest stage triumphs. The Barrymore of Hamlet was not the Barrymore of Des Grieux, and many critics, fancying themselves arbiters of high culture, frequently expressed disappointment that America’s greatest actor had cheapened himself."

"While the New York Times called When a Man Loves “always entertaining,” others were less generous: Picture-Play Magazine’s Norbert Lusk complained that it was “stagy, artificial, implausible,” while Martin Dickstein of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle dismissed it as “twaddle and nincompooperie.” Oddly, Variety complained it lacked humor, especially off-the-mark as the film is peppered with amusement, starting with the delightful opening when Guillot de Morfontaine salaciously lifts the virginal Manon’s skirts in the name of helping her find her kitten. When a Man Loves is certainly melodrama, and it isn’t the book: hardly a scene remains of Prévost’s novel, and much is added, including scenes with Louis XV and an outrageously foppish Richelieu. However, it’s also grand spectacle, well-paced, and climaxes in a terrific mêlée aboard the ship taking Manon and Des Grieux to Louisiana (where, at odds with Prévost, the future looks bright for the star-crossed couple). Barrymore’s grand gestures are more theatrical than Douglas Fairbanks’ comfortably masculine bravado, though John’s athleticism, especially in the final sequences, has an infectiously energetic verve. Crosland unquestionably takes advantage far too often of “the Great Profile” (another source of complaint from critics), and it’s also true the star isn’t ideal in scenes of religious penitence. Yet he’s magnetic even when resorting to the mannered tics – a raised eyebrow, a slight cock of the head coupled with a non-derisive smirk – that endured throughout his career."
 
"Margot Peters, in her unforgiving book The House of Barrymore, reports that Ethel was perturbed to see her brother allow Dolores Costello to take the spotlight; the rising actress, daughter of matinee idol Maurice Costello, undeniably shines as Manon (Myrna Loy, an extra in the film and a near-conquest of Barrymore’s, said the ethereal Costello was “more like an orchid than a woman”). John had been having a romance with Mary Astor until he and Costello co-starred in The Sea Beast, when an affair blossomed; in August 1928 Barrymore’s second wife Blanche Oelrichs (aka Michael Strange) was granted a divorce, and in November he and Costello were married."

"Financially, this was John’s golden period. During the shooting of When a Man Loves he signed a short-term, two-picture contract with United Artists, at $100,000 per film and 50% of the profits (according to Variety), with an agreement to return to Warner Brothers on completion of the second movie. How he felt artistically is another matter. Many of his theatre friends weren’t happy: in 1926, Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson, the late 19th century’s leading Hamlet, was one of many urging him to return to the stage. He had offers for a 12-week season in London but declined, writing to Gerald Du Maurier, “I seem to have sold my kidneys for a mess of celluloid.” Proposals came and went, and Barrymore himself considered another Hamlet production in 1928, yet after six months of planning, he cancelled. Like much in his life, speculation as to “why” has overtaken his prodigious achievements, and the sniping continues, even to this day, for forsaking his position as America’s leading stage star. As acknowledged by Michael A. Morrison in his superb John Barrymore, Shakespearean Actor, John’s tormented nature defies easy analysis, and the almost gleeful accounts of his alcoholism, personal hygiene, and general bad behavior all too easily overshadow both the individual and his achievements. For the latter, read Morrison; for the former, go to the friends – Mary Astor, Myrna Loy, Arthur Hopkins, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Mercedes de Acosta – who write so movingly about this complicated, supremely gifted, and yes, tragic, man." – Jay Weissberg

AA: Worth experiencing thanks to Henry Hadley's marvellous score, an exciting display of a late silent symphonic music score. It is not Puccini, but effective in its own right. At the end we see the symphony orchestra bowing for applause.

The film: Manon Lescaut with a happy ending.

Starring John Barrymore and his wife-to-be Dolores Costello - their granddaughter is Drew Barrymore. The passion in the love story is real, and it is the greatest redeeming feature in this movie besides the Henry Hadley score.

Alan Crosland is a good but not an inspired professional. The huge production is effectively handled. There is a unique feeling of decadence in key sequences: the casino where des Grieux throws his gold coins on Manon, the court where both the King and des Grieux cheat at cards to secure the love of Manon, and the ship to Louisiana which negotiates the stormy Atlantic. The corrupt captain tries to have his way with Manon, but des Grieux incites a rebellion of his fellow prisoners: they break their chains and take over the ship. (Had the film-makers seen Battleship Potemkin?). Des Grieux and Manon hop into a lifeboat: yonder is America - land of freedom and everlasting love.

The toning and tinting is subtle in this print, and the restoration of the Vitaphone score is enjoyable.

Vitaphone Prelude

Shooting the Vitaphone short Quartet from Rigoletto ("Bella figlia dell'amore") with Beniamino Gigli

Le Giornate del Cinema Muto
Eventi speciali / Special Events
Serata inaugurale / Opening Night Programme
E-subtitles in Italian, Teatro Verdi, Pordenone, 4 Oct 2014

Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 2014 sono dedicate a Peter von Bagh
The 33rd Pordenone Silent Film Festival is dedicated to Peter von Bagh (1943-2014)
"We are the last generation which could know everything"
- The slide before the start of the show

Catalogue: "This year’s opening event is an exact recreation of the programme of the Selwyn Theatre, New York, during the first run of Alan Crosland’s When a Man Loves, starring John Barrymore, in February 1927. As then, the show commences with three shorts demonstrating the marvels of the Vitaphone sound system, with films of great operatic stars of the day alongside the comic singers Van and Schenck. The feature film is accompanied by an important score by Henry Hadley, performed by the Vitaphone Symphony Orchestra, under its director Herman Heller."

Preludio Vitaphone / Vitaphone Prelude
Catherine A. Surowiec in the Catalogue: "One fateful day in 1925, Major Nathan Levinson, a sound expert who had helped the Warner brothers launch their Los Angeles radio station KFWB, returned from a trip to Western Electric’s Bell Laboratories in New York, exclaiming, “I’ve just seen something that makes the Wizard of Oz look like kid stuff! ... A talking picture!” Sam Warner, the most visionary of the brothers, took the train East to see a demonstration, and was bowled over by the new sound-on-disc process in development, Vitaphone. Warner Brothers was soon in the sound business, operating under its own production entity, the Vitaphone Corporation. At first the Warners regarded Vitaphone’s main potential as making pre-recorded orchestral accompaniment and effects soundtracks for feature films available to cinemas all over America. But they also started filming live-action shorts featuring classical music, popular songs, and vaudeville numbers. These were made at the Manhattan Opera House, at 311 W. 34th St. in New York, in a studio converted from a grand ballroom rented by the Warners, supervised by Sam Warner and Vitaphone’s music director Herman Heller. In mid-1927 Vitaphone production would move to Warners’ new soundstage at their California studio, where the supervision of the “Vitaphone Varieties” shorts was taken over by former vaudevillian Bryan Foy."

"Most of these early shorts were static, with very little movement. Any sound was picked up by the sensitive Vitaphone equipment. Cameras were soon cocooned in booths, stages were draped and padded, and hissing arc lights were replaced by incandescent bulbs. Many shorts were shot at night, and during filming members of the crew even removed their shoes. Performers often took silent bows at their end of their numbers. Primitive as some of the films look today, they are a fascinating and valuable record of performers, repertoire, and performance styles of the time."

"By the summer of 1926 the Warners were ready to showcase Vitaphone, and they prepared their programme carefully, for maximum impact. John Barrymore’s swashbuckling period romance Don Juan was presented at a gala screening in New York on the evening of Friday, 6 August 1926, with a score recorded by the New York Philharmonic, and accompanied by a prologue consisting of six Vitaphone music shorts, with a spoken introduction by Will H. Hays, President of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America. Variety reported that the launch of Vitaphone was the talk of Broadway, with the public storming the theatre all that weekend to get in."

"Two other special Vitaphone showcase programmes followed in the coming months. The second, with the Syd Chaplin World War I comedy The Better ’Ole at the Colony Theatre on 5 October 1926, catered to more popular tastes, with Elsie Janis, Willie and Eugene Howard, George Jessel, and, prophetically, Al Jolson singing in A Plantation Act. The third and final Vitaphone special gala featured the John Barrymore-Dolores Costello costume romance When a Man Loves, which premiered at the Selwyn Theatre in New York on 3 February 1927. The three Vitaphone shorts we are presenting were all shown with it on that historic occasion." Catherine A. Surowiec

QUARTET FROM RIGOLETTO (Warner Bros./The Vitaphone Corporation – US 1927) D: ?; M: Giuseppe Verdi; libretto: Francesco Maria Piave; C: Beniamino Gigli, Giuseppe De Luca, Jeanne Gordon, Marion Talley; filmed: 1927; rel: 3.2.1927; © 4.4.1927; Vitaphone n. 415; 35 mm, ca. 810 ft (250 m), 9' (24 fps), sd.; print source: UCLA Film & Television Archive, Los Angeles.
    "The Warner Brothers, with an eye (and ear) for high culture, cannily negotiated a contract with the Metropolitan Opera; several early shorts featured the tenor Giovanni Martinelli, one of the stalwarts of the Met. This film of the quartet “Bella figlia dell’amore” from Verdi’s opera Rigoletto has two of the Met’s biggest male stars: the immortal lyric tenor Beniamino Gigli (1890-1957), a bel canto legend, sings the part of the Duke of Mantua, with Giuseppe De Luca (1876-1950), one of opera’s leading baritones, as the cloaked Rigoletto. Canadian-born contralto Jeanne Gordon (1884-1952) sings the role of Sparafucile’s sister Maddalena, here seated next to the Duke. Rounding out the quartet as Rigoletto’s daughter Gilda, here disguised as a man and wearing a cloak, is Marion Talley (1906-1983), the pride of Kansas City, whose signing by the Met at the age of 19 made the cover of Time magazine. At the time she was the youngest prima donna ever to make a debut at the Met in a leading role, so she was very much in the news, but she was thrust into the limelight too early and her career would be short-lived. The quartet is filmed mostly in long shot, on a set with a wall jutting in the middle, which creates almost a split-screen effect, separating the two couples. The accompaniment is by the Vitaphone Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Herman Heller." Catherine A. Surowiec - AA: An electrifying performance of "Bella figlia dell'amore". Beniamino Gigli, the loveliest honey tenor ever, at his best. Plan-séquence.

CHARLES HACKETT. TENOR CHICAGO OPERA COMPANY (Warner Bros./The Vitapone Corporation – US 1927) D: ?; M: Giuseppe Verdi; libretto: Francesco Maria Piave; C: Charles Hackett; filmed: 1926; rel: 3.2.1927; © 12.3.1927; Vitaphone n. 392; 35 mm, ca. 630 ft (192 m), 7' (24 fps), sd.; print source: UCLA Film & Television Archive, Los Angeles.
    "Charles Francis Hackett (1887-1942), born in Worcester, Massachusetts, won early acclaim for his beautiful lyric tenor voice, and was one of the first American tenors to establish an international career, performing in Milan, Rome, Monte Carlo, Paris, and London. Hackett made his Metropolitan Opera debut in 1919. He signed with the newly formed Chicago Civic Opera, and was one of its leading stars from 1923 to 1931. He rejoined the Met in 1934, leaving in 1939 to teach voice at the Juilliard School. Hackett was also a busy concert, radio, and recording artist.
    Hackett appeared in several Vitaphone operatic shorts between 1927 and 1930. Here he sings two arias from Verdi’s Rigoletto, in Renaissance costume as the Duke of Mantua, accompanied by the Vitaphone Symphony Orchestra conducted by Herman Heller. “Questa o quella”, from Act I, begins with an orchestral prelude, with Hackett entering onto a set populated with extras; he then comes
to the foreground to perform the aria. The second aria, from Act III, features Hackett alone in a tight shot sitting on a rough wooden table, drinking from the traditional “empty cup” of opera props as he sings “La donna è mobile”." – Catherine A. Surowiec - AA: More highlights from Rigoletto: "Questa o quella" and "La donna è mobile", but Charles Hackett has the unenviable situation of being played after Beniamino Gigli. From a full shot to a medium shot.

VAN AND SCHENCK. “THE PENNANT WINNING BATTERY OF SONGLAND” (Warner Bros./The Vitaphone Corporation – US 1927) D: ?; C: Gus Van, Joe Schenck; songs: “Me Too (Ho-Ho! Ha-Ha!)” (M, lyr: Harry M. Woods, Charles Tobias, Al Sherman), “Hard to Get Gertie” (M: Milton Ager, lyr: Jack Yellen), “Because I Love You” (M, lyr: Irving Berlin), “She Knows Her Onions” (mus: Milton Ager, lyr: Jack Yellen); filmed: 1927; rel: 3.2.1927; © 2.4.1927; Vitaphone n. 395; 35 mm, ca. 810 ft (250 m), 9' (24 fps), sd.; print source: UCLA Film & Television Archive, Los Angeles.
    "Gus Van (1887-1968) and Joe Schenck (1891-1930), a popular comedy and song act in vaudeville, on Broadway (they were featured in the legendary 1919 edition of the Ziegfeld Follies), and on early radio, perform four musical numbers representing their easygoing close harmony style and typical repertoire. Friends from childhood, they grew up in Brooklyn, forming a vaudeville act around 1910, and by the mid-1910s were headliners. Baritone Gus Van specialized in dialects, here displayed in two numbers, “Hard to Get Gertie”, done in the style of the famous black entertainer Bert Williams, and “She Knows Her Onions”, a rube characterization. Tenor Joe Schenck tickled the ivories at the piano – “Because I Love You” demonstrates his unique style: he could sing while playing with his back to the keyboard!"
    "Van and Schenck were keen baseball fans; their billing, “The Pennant Winning Battery of Songland”, reflects their effectiveness as a team at putting over a song (in baseball, the term “battery” refers to a pitcher and catcher who work together closely). After Schenck died suddenly of a heart attack on tour in June 1930, Van continued for years as a successful solo entertainer, billed as “The Melody Man”. This short gives a flavour of their act, period slang, dialects, eccentric piano style, and all." – Catherine A. Surowiec (The Catalog) - AA: Straight record of a performance of four songs, Schenck at the piano, Van just singing, also in the black idiom ("Hard To Get Gertie"). They are dressed in suits and bowties, but they also perform in very earthy styles ("She Knows Her Onions"). In medium shots.

At Teatro Verdi, it was a nice idea to start the festival with three famous Verdi songs.

Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 2014 dedication to Peter von Bagh

This dedication was projected on the Teatro Verdi screen every night during Le Giornate del Cinema Muto in 2014. Photograph: Kari Glödstaf.

Gornichnaya Dzhenni / [The Chambermaid Jenny]

Vladimir Gaidarov as George Anger, Olga Gzovskaya as Jenny, and Iona Talanov as François, the butler. Click to enlarge. Olga Gzovskaya and Vladimir Gaidarov are one of the three real-life couples starring on day one in Pordenone this year.

Горничная Дженни [La cameriera Jenny / Chambermaid Jenny] (I. Ermoliev – Russia, 1918) D, SC: Yakov Protazanov; DP: Fedot Burgasov; AD: Vladimir Balliuzek; C: Olga Gzovskaya (Jenny [the young Countess Chamberot]), Vera Pavlova (Countess Chamberot), Vladimir Gaidarov (George Anger), Olga Kondorova (Baroness Anger, his mother), Iona Talanov (François, the butler), Dmitri Bukhovetskii (Nicol, a footman), Pol Mak, Vladimir Balliuzek (George’s guests); filmed: 1917-18; orig. l: 1793 m.; DCP (from 35 mm, 1429 m), 69' (transferred at 18 fps); titles: RUS; print source: Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation, Culpeper, VA.
    The screening ran 54 min.
    With e-subtitles in English and Italian, grand piano: Günter Buchwald - added with bass (XX) and violin (XX) - at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 4 Oct 2014

Peter Bagrov (Catalogue): "Chambermaid Jenny was made during a transitional period in Russian film history. The years 1918-1920 are known as an “interregnum” of state-owned and private film companies. The latter were centralized in Yalta, on the Crimean seashore. The Mediterranean climate here favoured filmmaking, and in case of emergency Crimea was the best gateway to Constantinople and further on to Europe – a path which most of the Yalta filmmakers followed sooner or later. The weather and the landscapes were so atypical of Russia they almost called for exotic melodramas set in an abstract country (something like a high-society Ruritania). Since the outbreak of World War I Russian films were purely entertaining and had little connection to everyday life. After 1917 this connection disappeared completely. Chambermaid Jenny seems to fit the pattern. There is nothing French in the story or the settings – only the names clearly indicate that this has nothing to do with the Russia of 1918. What’s really remarkable in this little-known film is its genre – a fact that was not missed by the press: “To move away from the clichéd forms of film art [Protazanov] tries to render on screen human life with all its tragic and at the same time comic streaks, to render it so that there is no caricature, and one can feel the breath of true tragedy and sufferings of the human soul. In accordance with these tasks the film to be released shall bear the title of a tragicomedy.”"

"Russian pre-revolutionary films knew class distinctions, just like Russian society: drama was a high genre, comedy a low one; and they were not to be mixed. The sets, the pace, and, first and foremost, the acting, had to be utterly different. Protazanov was the first one to break the law. So the Russian film historians Yevgeni Margolit and Marianna Kireyeva have every reason to call Chambermaid Jenny as revolutionary as Father Sergius – for the Revolution destroyed all the class barriers."

"Russian filmmakers were obsessed with death. Needless to say, practically all melodramas had a tragic ending. Yevgeni Bauer went further, starting a fashion for beginning a film with a funeral. Protazanov followed the lead in Chambermaid Jenny. The opening scene is a funeral, and, what’s more, the composition is a typically “Baueresque” one: a coffin in the background, a combination of curtains and columns forming a frame within a frame in the foreground, many flowers, and the characters situated in a statuary grouping of a sort. But this is not an imitation – it’s a parody; Protazanov called Bauer’s films “a cheap spangle made of ornaments”. For Bauer such an opening would indicate fate and despair, whereas Protazanov’s film turns out to be light and optimistic."

"After the death of her bankrupt father a young countess has to offer herself as a chambermaid under a false name. The young master falls in love with her. She loves him too, but the class difference is an obstacle to their happiness. Not only is there a happy ending, but the melodramatic plot is constantly overshadowed by dozens of humane, “household”, funny details. Funny not only for the audience, but for the characters as well. When the countess has to write herself a letter of reference, when the old butler teaches her manners, she is capable of laughing at herself. You would never see that in a prerevolutionary Russian film, because comical characters would never look at themselves from the outside, and dramatic characters were not supposed to laugh at all."

"There is nothing extraordinary in a wedding finale – after all, we know that the chambermaid is in fact a countess, so the class distinction here is imaginary. But the film has a truly democratic pathos. Jenny is good-humoured and open-minded: she enjoys chatting with her comrade chambermaid, and she grows to respect the old butler. At the end they are all friends, and the young aristocratic couple drinks champagne with the butler."

"When introducing his idea of a “tragicomedy” (or “lyrical comedy”, as this genre would later be called in Russia) Protazanov had an actress in mind before he came up with a story: the main part was intended for Olga Gzovskaya (1883-1962). A brilliant stage actress, she played at both the Malyi Theatre (a citadel of the “old school”) and the Moscow Art Theatre. Stanislavsky admired her and was easily influenced by her; Gordon Craig cast her as Ophelia in his Hamlet. Her screen career was launched in 1915 at the age of 32, and in the next four years she made 19 films. She was never particularly interested in film art; her goal was to give as much freedom to the actor as possible. So she often wrote screenplays for her own films (and according to some sources co-wrote the script for Chambermaid Jenny), and even invented a popular theory demanding “long scenes” with no interference from an editor. By 1918 she had a reputation as arguably the best actress of both the Russian stage and screen."

"The leading man was Vladimir Gaidarov, Gzovskaya’s husband and her partner in most of her films. Ten years her junior, he was considered no more than a handsome “dressing” for a great actress. But two years later they emigrated to Berlin, and the situation was reversed: Gaidarov became a movie star working with Murnau, Dreyer, Wiene, Oswald, et al., whereas his ageing wife made a few minor films and returned to the theatre."

"Most of Gzovskaya’s pictures are lost. Among those that are preserved, Chambermaid Jenny definitely gives the best impression of her charm and acting skills. Protazanov provided her with all the “long scenes” she aspired to, but did it in a clever way: Jenny is present all the time, either in the background or on the sidelines, living a parallel life – as a chambermaid should. These mises-en-scène should also be credited to Fedot Burgasov, a cameraman who later worked in France (where he was known as Fédote Bourgassof), and shot Kean (1924), Feu Mathias Pascal (1926), Michel Strogoff (1926), Casanova (1927), and Les Bas-fonds (1936). Chambermaid Jenny was only his second film." – Peter Bagrov

AA: Having seen Yakov Protazanov's austere Father Sergius (1918) whose style seems to hark back to an earlier period it was an interesting discovery to see The Chambermaid Jenny from the same year which does not feel so archaic at all. The visual storytelling is smooth.

Peter Bagrov argues that comedy was innate to Protazanov, and there is here a fine balance of drama and comedy, as Bagrov also states above.

From a funeral to a wedding we chart the saga of the impoverished noblewoman Jenny. There is a war and George, the wounded young officer of the air force, comes home to recuperate. They exchange looks. George hears Jenny at the piano, notices her ease with his little brother at playful dance, and sees Jenny reading books in English. George protects Jenny from the advances of a footman and later even from a fellow officer. The footman tries to frame Jenny as a thief of silverware, but he is exposed. There is a duel with the "offended" officer, and George is wounded again. A family doctor invites a famous specialist who instantly recognizes Jenny as the young Countess Chamberot.

The fairy-tale structure resembles the Nordic lumberjack sagas where the wandering lumberjack turns out to be the inheritor of a prosperous farm. But it is important that he discovers his true loved one as a man, as himself, not as a representative of property. Likewise here we feel that George would have selected Jenny anyway. The fact that she is a Countess is just an external confirmation of her inner nobility, which we have witnessed in many instances.

Olga Gzovskaya is natural and attractive in the leading role, and Protazanov directs the entire ensemble with an easy touch.

Fedot Bourgasov's talent as a cinematographer is already evident here - in composition, lighting, and choosing the right dramatic angle.

The DCP from the Library of Congress is stable and the definition of light is otherwise fine but deep black is missing.

Günter A. Buchwald's trio provided us an attractive hour of musical improvisation.

Odin nasladilsia, drugoy rasplatilsia / [One Plays – The Other Pays]

Vera Charova as Chouchou, a lady of easy virtue, and Vladimir Kriger as the old roué who realizes that Chouchou has a young lover. Click to enlarge.

Один насладился, другой расплатился [L’uno si diverte, l’altro paga / One Plays – The Other Pays] (Thiemann & Reinhardt - Russia, 1913) D: Yakov Protazanov; DP: Aleksandr Levitskii; AD: Cheslav Sabinskii; C: Vera Charova (Chouchou Dorée), Vladimir Kriger (old lover), Vladimir Torskii (Vovo, gigolo); orig. l: 400 m. (2 rl.); incomplete, 35 mm, 219 m., 12' (16 fps); titles: RUS; print source: Gosfilmofond of Russia.
     With e-subtitles in English and Italian, grand piano: Günter Buchwald at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 4 Oct 2014

Peter Bagrov, Natalia Noussinova (Catalogue): "Comedy was not a very popular genre in Tsarist Russian cinema; melodrama reigned. There were few gag comedies, and high comedy didn’t exist at all. (Among the rare exceptions are Piotr Chardynin’s The Little House at Kolomna, and, with a bit of a stretch, Vladislav Starevich’s The Cameraman’s Revenge, which parodied traditional farces.) The dominant and most appreciated subgenre of comic cinema was the farce, adopted by cinema from the stage."

"In Moscow and St. Petersburg between 1890 and the early 1920s there were many theatres specializing in farce; their repertoire was primarily drawn from Russian translations of foreign plays, with a preference for erotic subjects and stories about adultery. Quite often these were accused of pornography (the meaning of this word being rather vague at the time)."

"Cinema farce was more or less a copy of stage farce. It was above all centred on the acting, with little worry about editing or camera movement. It is interesting to mention in this respect the farces of Yevgeni Bauer, which have been very little studied, though he made more than a dozen. Their style is very different from his dramas. It was not by chance that Bauer’s wife, who often played the leading roles in his films, changed her name according to genre: Emma Bauer in dramas became Lina Bauer in farces. It is also interesting to compare the playing of the actors in Bauer’s films according to genre: while static and merely an element of the frame composition in dramas, in farces they became very animated, with exaggerated pantomime and gestures, the characteristic lively “types” of stage farce."

"In this context, Protazanov’s One Plays – The Other Pays is exceptional. It is impossible to generalize when discussing the style of Protazanov’s pre-Revolutionary comedies, because only this
one example survives. But this one little film is quite remarkable, and unjustly forgotten. The subject of One Plays – The Other Pays obviously came from an as yet unidentified foreign farce, of which one can find a trace in the names of its two main characters, Chouchou and Vovo. The conflict is classic: to hide her lover, a wife presents him to her husband as her tailor, which results in the lover
receiving from the husband a fee, instead of a slap in the face. Now for the spice in the sauce: the husband is not in fact the husband, but another lover and rich protector. Thus the triangle becomes super “immoral”: it is composed of a courtesan, her official lover, and her unofficial lover, whom she has met at a restaurant."

"The language of the film is rather original. First, the three actors were quite well known, not as actors from stage farces, but from the highly reputable Korsh private theatre. Their style of playing is quite different from the traditional style of farces; it is less exaggerated, without the usual coquetry towards the audience. The imagery and the visuals are also rather sophisticated. Curtains and screens divide the frame, giving it depth and perspective. The film contains an elaborate shot, of the kind that in the future would become almost a trademark of Russian films of “high culture”. When the hero enters a house, we see his silhouette in the shadows, and at the same time we see auxiliary happenings in different planes in the same shot: pedestrians passing by, automobiles approaching, horses trotting in a park. This shot is all the more remarkable because it has nothing to do with the rather crude story of the courtesan Chouchou, and there is nothing comic in it. The composition of the image in several perspective planes is anyhow a rarity for 1913."

"This innovative shot, as well as the language of this film in general, paradoxically anticipates the arrival of the mature style of the films of Bauer. However, it is not very surprising, because the film was shot by Aleksandr Levitskii, one of the best cameramen of pre-Revolutionary Russian cinema, who went on to work in the 1920s with Kuleshov and Eisenstein. One should also note that Protazanov has made some little discoveries: for example, he has found a way to avoid the vulgarity of a low genre (and consequent problems with the censors) while still accentuating the erotic side of the situation. Witness how we see only the arm and the head of the heroine as she hides behind a curtain, while it is absolutely clear to the spectator that she is completely nude."

"The film had some success. The press congratulated the Thiemann & Reinhardt company upon its debut (at least its first steps) in comedy. The film was innovative in other respects: it formed the bridge between farce and comedy, it announced the classic language of pre-Revolutionary cinema, and it surely represents one of Protazanov’s first experiments in the comedy genre." - Peter Bagrov, Natalia Noussinova

AA: The programme note by Peter Bagrov and Natalia Noussinova above is so excellent that there is little to add. There are funny touches and moments in this farce in which the events are outrageous but the approach is often subtle and restrained. Among the juicy characters is a hilariously slick tailor (the authentic one). The scene where the old roué and the young lover take each other's measure is also a funny one. Not a great film but truly something to see from 1913. There is a duped quality in the print; there is no black in it.

The Drews 1

Boobley's Baby with Mr. & Mrs. Sidney Drew (Sidney Drew, Lucille McVey). Photo: Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation, Culpeper, VA. Click to enlarge.

With e-subtitles in Italian (and for The Master Painter in English, too), grand piano: Philip C. Carli (not Antonio Coppola) at Teatro Verdi (Le Giornate del Cinema Muto), Pordenone, 4 Oct 2014

Steve Massa (Catalogue): "The witty and sophisticated comedies of Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew were an alternative to the rough and ready slapstick of Keystone and L-KO shorts. A light comedian from the stage, Sidney Drew entered films in 1911, first working for Kalem. He embraced the early medium much more than the rest of his illustrious theatrical family, becoming an innovative writer and director."

"The short When Two Hearts Are One (1911) was based on the vaudeville sketch that Sidney and his first wife Gladys Rankin had toured with for eight years. Rankin was the daughter of stage star McKee Rankin, and sister of Phyllis Rankin (married to actor Harry Davenport) and Doris Rankin (the first wife of Sidney’s nephew, Lionel Barrymore). Gladys wrote several plays under the name George Cameron, including Billy, also known as Billy’s Tombstones, a popular vehicle for Sidney. The pair joined the Vitagraph Studio in 1913, but Mrs. Drew died in January of 1914. At Vitagraph Drew was first part of the comic ensemble in shorts such as The Feudists (1913) and When Women Go on the Warpath (1913), and even played in dramas like The Master Painter (1913). He soon began to find his own voice, embarking on a series of domestic comedies for Vitagraph that included Jerry’s Mother-in-Law (1914), Pickles, Art and Sauerkraut (1914), and A Horseshoe for Luck (1914), in which he was paired with screen spouses on the order of Clara Kimball Young, Louise Beaudet, and Kate Price, as well as directing and co-starring in the clever feature A Florida Enchantment (1914). Sidney’s life and career took a new direction at age 50, when he met the young actress Lucille McVey. Working at Vitagraph under the name Jane Morrow, she had previously toured the world for six years presenting recitations on the concert stage."

"After marrying in July of 1914, by the end of that year they launched a series which chronicled the misadventures of an average married couple, who became known as “Henry and Polly.” Although they wrote and directed their films together, in interviews Drew gave his wife credit for the tone of their material: “I was practically born in the theatre and the theatre has been my world, but Mrs. Drew was born in the middle west and she knew the world of millions of American men and women to whom the little domestic incidents – such as getting cigar ashes on the carpet – are important.”"

"From this angle came wonderful shorts such as Boobley’s Baby (1915), A Case of Eugenics (1915), and The Professional Patient (1917). A huge success, the Drews moved on from Vitagraph to Metro, and then finally to the V.B.K. Film Corp., with distribution through Paramount. Sidney Drew’s health collapsed after the death of his son in World War I, and he died at the peak of the couple’s fame in 1919. Mrs. Drew soldiered on as a single, and became one of the few women to write and direct comedy films. At first she fulfilled their V.B.K. contract with shorts like Bunkered (1919), and then adapted and directed the “After Thirty” stories of Julian Street for a series of Pathé two-reelers that included The Charming Mrs. Chase (1920) and The Emotional Miss Vaughn (1920). The last film she directed, before her premature death from cancer in 1925, was the Vitagraph feature Cousin Kate (1921), with Alice Joyce playing the title role; the original play had starred Ethel Barrymore." – Steve Massa

WHEN TWO HEARTS ARE ONE (Kalem – US 1911) D: Sidney Olcott; based on the stage sketch by Kenneth Lee; C: Sidney Drew, Alice Joyce, George Melford; rel: 6.9.1911; 1 rl.; 35 mm, 712 ft, 11' (18 fps); titles: ENG; print source: BFI National Archive, London. - AA: The honeymoon woe for Pup the pet dog, not allowed on the train, in the hotel... Coarse comedy. Early cinema style with long takes and long shots. A print with a duped quality.

THE MASTER PAINTER (Een vervallen grootheid) (Vitagraph – US 1913) D: L. Rogers Lytton; story: Russell E. Smith; C: Sidney Drew, Courtney Foote, Rosemary Theby; rel: 16.7.1913; 1 rl.; 35 mm, 977 ft, 14' (18 fps); main title, titles: DUT; print source: EYE Filmmuseum, Amsterdam. - AA: Much better. There is a resemblance in the story to Vingarne / Mikael in that the old master is failing and the young painter is getting superior, falling in love with the young woman, here the old master's niece. At night the young man secretly improves the old master's work. "Now I've become the apprentice". Beautiful cinematography. Long takes, also medium shots. Beautiful sepia toning. From a print worn with dignity.

THE FEUDISTS (Vitagraph – US 1913) D: Wilfred North; story: James Oliver Curwood; C: John Bunny, Sidney Drew, Flora Finch, Josie Sadler, Lillian Walker, Wally Van, Paul Kelly, Kenneth Casey; rel: 23.8.1913; 2 rls.; 35 mm, 1296 ft, 19' (18 fps); titles: ENG; print source: Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation, Culpeper, VA. - AA: The feudists = the neighbours. I was thinking about Norman McLaren and also Max Davidson (Pass the Gravy). There is trouble with hen, calamity with seeds of plants unique in America, and mayhem with little children at their pranks. It all ends with reconciliation. The comedy is on the clumsy side. The source is largely horribly disfigured with water or nitrate damage.

BOOBLEY’S BABY (Vitagraph – US 1915) D: Sidney Drew; story: Paul West; C: Sidney Drew, Mrs. Sidney Drew [= Lucille McVey], Eddie Dunn; rel: 26.4.1915; 1 rl.; 35 mm, 1,000 ft, ca. 15' (18 fps); titles: ENG; print source: Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation, Culpeper, VA. - AA: Sidney commuting to his office on a train notices that those with babys always get a seat, so he buys a life size doll. Lucille at the office who kind of likes him is horrified by his callous way with the little one. There is an initial shock at Sidney's home, as well. And a prank by the co-workers who replace the doll with a real baby when Lucille is about to verify the case. Anyway, a year later: "sleep no more": Sidney and Lucille do have a real baby. Ok comedy. The source is partly so devastatingly damaged that there are stretches that are like abstract expressionist art.

A CASE OF EUGENICS (Vitagraph – US 1915) D: Sidney Drew; story: Templar Saxe; C: Sidney Drew, Mrs. Sidney Drew, Bobby Connelly; rel: 29.10.1915; 1 rl.; 35 mm, 745 ft, 11' (18 fps); titles: ENG; print source: Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation, Culpeper, VA. - AA: The story of a terrible boy child, in the tradition of the Willy comedies at Éclair, and Dennis the Menace. He is not their child, he is just on loan. The case gets so desperate that Sidney loses his mental balance, and, supported by his doctor, becomes a baby, himself. Lucille now is in a crossfire of two terrible babies, one little, one her husband. Mediocre comedy. There is a fatal disaster in the source towards the end, the image disappearing.

HER ANNIVERSARIES (Metro Pictures – US 1917) D., story: Mr. & Mrs. Sidney Drew; C: Sidney Drew, Mrs. Sidney Drew; rel: 4.6.1917; 1 rl.; 35 mm, 905 ft, ca. 13' (18 fps); titles: ENG; print source: Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation, Culpeper, VA. - AA: Sidney is the impossible husband who always forgets the anniversaries, and Lucille is an anniversary maniac who compiles a complete list of them all. Her birthday: everybody remembers but Sidney. Finally Sidney mistakes the wedding anniversary with Washington's birthday. There are funny moments in this one. A high contrast print.