Wouldn’t you like to go Behind the Scenes with DW Griffith and Florence Lawrence? I sure would, that’s why I was bright and early at the Verdi this morning for the 1980 Biograph package. Behind the Scenes, per the catalogue is the “happy exception” among the 1908 output. Well it certainly had punch. A distraught mother must tear herself from her daughter’s sickbed to kick her heels and shake her hips on the vaudeville stage to earn a crust. But as the crowd roars out for an encore, her baby girl is slipping away from this life; Grandma rushes to the stage door… If “too late!” is the essence of the melodramatic narrative then this was a textbook case. We stayed to see Lawrence reappear as the titular character in The Red Girl, in which a collection of ethnic stereotypes conspire to rob a “girl miner” but Lawrence defies racist convention to lend a hand instead. Impressive to see Lawrence Harry Houdini her way free after being tied up and dangled over a precipice above the rushing river. Extra exciting with John Sweeney at the keys, of course.
Today is dominated, though, by two films from ONE HUNDRED years ago. The year 1924 gave the world both Ernst Lubitsch’s Three Women and Harold Lloyd’s Girl Shy.
First, and most hotly anticipated by myself, was the Lubitsch. In this high-society caper of nods and winks and smoking guns we take a perch to watch the mercenary antics of one Mr Lamont, played by Lew Cody, whom we should all remember is never not once to be trusted. When he sees Mabel Wilton (Pauline Frederick) at a ball he is dazzled by her diamonds and begins to pay court. But then he meets her daughter Jeanne (May McAvoy) and her trust fund. And then again, once he has married Jeanne his head is turned, in turn, by Marie Prevost and her … assets. Meanwhile, Fred, a poor (for now) medical student, pines for Jeanne, and his mother longs to see them wed (she puts the doilies out specially). A delightful film, caressed by Lubitsch, funny and sweet, and sharp as a skewer between the ribs. Plus it contains a memorable visit to a “monkey bar”, in which booze is served under the table and toy monkeys drop from the ceiling – ah the glamour of the jazz age. I love Pauline Frederick in everything, but I was slightly wary of her here, as she appeared to be too sober a woman to be a giddy lady in the nightclubs, vain of her figure, seducing young chancers and neglecting her daughter. Well maybe she was, but when, towards the end of the film she cradled her sobbing daughter in her arms and shot a look that said “I’ll kill the bastard who broke my baby girl’s heart”, well the screen burst into flames. And the sight of La Frederick with the revolver in her hand could only be described as “bad-ass”. A word that, in truth, I rarely say out loud. But it is the right one, here. A terrific turn in a film that can no longer be considered minor Lubitsch.
Over lunch I dropped into the Collegium, to learn more about the Sine Nomine project which is going great guns and slated to return next year. Read more about the films here, and catch up with the tremendous progress on identification here. Today’s film was the deeply adorable day in the life of a “frizzy-haired terrier”, including winter sports and new boots for Christmas. We swooned, as a collective.
After lunch a strange, but exciting double-bill from the Ben Carré strand. First, The Death of Mozart (Étienne Arnaud, 1909), in which the great composer has visions of his masterpieces as he dies. A film designed to provide a great operatic spectacle, with the vignettes superimposed on the tableaux, and also with built-in music cues, of course. Sound and vision in harmony. This was to be followed by the tale of Spanish-colonial California For the Soul of Rafael (Harry Garson, 1920), a recent restoration by the Women’s Film Preservation Fund starring Clara Kimball Young and scripted by Dorothy Yost (AKA Lenore Coffee). Before describing the film, let me mention the musicians, who performed with such gusto and style in two very different modes for both films: José Maria Serralde Ruiz, Günther Buchwald, Frank Bockius and on the (essential) guitar, masterclass student Gabriel Rigo. Just a tour de force, which made the films so vivid and immediate.
The feature itself was far more entertaining than it had any right to be, with Clara as the innocent girl raised in a convent and betrothed by her beloved guardian to a scoundrel (Bertram Grassby), but who falls in love with a noble American instead (J. Frank Glendon). Thanks to Carré this is both very picturesque, sumptuous, even and has a certain air of well-researched authenticity. It’s a slightly hackneyed plot, and one could pick fault, while the attractive cast tend to pose well in front of those gorgeous backdrops more than they genuinely emote, but in truth it was tremendously well-paced and very enjoyable.
My final stop of the afternoon was another book talk. A triple-header, with Charles Musser talking about the edited collection New Approaches to Lubitsch: A Light Touch (Amsterdam University Press), which includes an essay by him, on Three Women, no less, Jennifer Horne representing the mammoth book (824 pages!) she also contributed to, The Oxford Handbook of Silent Cinema (Oxford University Press), and Geoff Brown being very entertaining and of course informative on his Silent to Sound: British Cinema in Transition (John Libbey Publishing), which was especially fascinating as, over recent years, many of us have seen him present various stages of this research. Much to enjoy here, and to think about, keeping our brains occupied over (a very good) dinner until the evening’s special presentation of a classic Hollywood feature comedy.
Girl Shy is also from a whole CENTURY ago, which is a huge distance. I am still slightly boggled by the data. How could you understand such a BIG NUMBER? Maybe 10×10, or say (10×8)+(2×7)+6?
Once again, let’s begin with the music, as you all know Harold Lloyd. Tonight we were treated to a new score for the film, written by Daan van den Hurk, performed by the Zerorchestra ensemble. A terrifically charismatic score, which immersed us thoroughly in the Hollywood mode of love and laughter, vamps and flappers, runaway dogs, boys meeting girls, boys losing girls and winning them back again after daunting physical endeavours – the whole shebang. It had zip, and zing and pow! I may not be able to pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time, but now I know. I can tap my toes while I giggle.
Girl Shy (Fred Newmeyer, Sam Taylor, 1924) is one of Lloyd’s best known features, though some distance behind Safety Last! (1923) in the recognition stakes. Here too there are thrills to spill though, especially in the frenzied climactic chase scene, with Lloyd hopping from car to car to horse to trolley to fire engine … on a wild chase to stop his beloved (Jobyna Ralston) from marrying a card (Carlton Griffin). And there is also tremendously inventive camerawork in pretty-as-a-picture pastoral settings, courtesy of cinematographer Walter Lundin. Lloyd plays a bashful, hapless young man with a stammer, who is nervous around the opposite sex, but that has not stopped him from writing a ludicrous seduction manual. Ah, how very 2024, but this time, with good intentions. While attempting to publish his dating advice, he does indeed meet a sweet girl (Ralston) on the train to California. But will she still like him, if the book he is so proud of can’t get a publishing deal? What do you think? Lloyd made a career out of being the boy least likely to, the faint heart who won the fair lady. He’s especially sweet here, but deceptively so – those stunts take guts.
Did you get the hint? I have been doing some sums and much as it shocks me to think about where the time has gone, it turns out that this post is my 100th daily Pordenone recap. ONE HUNDRED! That’s well more than 100 intertitles of the day, and at my reckoning, upwards of 110,000 words. And how many typos? Far too many to mention. Could it be that you, yes you, have read every single one? I can only apologise for any repetitions, deviations and obfuscations – and certainly for all the corny gags. If you have read just one post, or all 100, or somewhere in between, if you ever rushed up to me with a favourite intertitle or reminded me to leave the bar and start typing, or supported this crazy endeavour with the merest smile, then I offer you my heartfelt thanks and appreciation. Forgive me all my press passes?
Intertitle of the Day
“You will never see her again – now, she nun!” Polonia fobs off an extra-marital suitor in For the Soul of Rafael.
