Bela Lugosi's sinister eyes a highlight of 1923 film The Silent Command

 

Check out Bela Lugosi's sinister eyes! Nine years before close ups of Lugosi's eyes were a feature in "White Zombie," audiences at silent theaters enjoyed several scenes of Bela's piercing eyes in the 1923 feature film, "The Silent Command."

Lugosi was not a star in 1923, nor was he after this film. However, his screen presence and dark attractiveness was getting him noticed. Hungarian-born movie mogul William Fox was one who certainly was interested in Bela's talent. He likely saw him in plays such as "The Red Poppy" (in English) and "The Tragedy of Man." Lugosi performed that famous play in Hungarian in New York City. Authors Gary D. Rhodes and Kaffenberger, in "Becoming Dracula: The Early Years of Bela Lugosi, Volume Two," surmise Fox may have seen "The Tragedy of Man," and other Hungarian-language plays featuring Lugosi.

So, Bela got the call to be in his first U.S. film, "The Silent Command," a Fox film made with the participation of the United States Navy. It was a "Top Gun"- type propaganda film 60 years before Tom Cruise, and without jet fighters. Directed by J. Gordon Edwards, it starred Edmund Lowe as the hero, Navy Capt. Richard Decatur. Lugosi, (billed incorrectly as Belo), plays the villain, Benedict Hisston, an evil, wealthy, well-connected hater of America who plots to blow up the Panama Canal and subsequently split the U.S. Navy in half.

To stymie Bela's character's nefarious plans, Lowe's Capt. Decatur takes drastic steps. He intentionally strikes an admiral. He is kicked out of the Navy and separates from his longsuffering wife (Alma Tell). Hisston steps up and recruits Peg Williams (Martha Mansfield), a "vampire" in the romantic sense, to seduce Decatur. This is all designed to get Decatur, now working undercover, to help Hisston with the terrorist bombing.

"The Silent Command" was a higher budget A picture, partially filmed in Panama, and also in New York City. There are faux newsreels and excellent scenery shots, particularly on the sea. The climax involves an impressive action fight between Lowe's Decatur and Lugosi's Hisston on a boat. The film drags a little midway but it's a solid three-star movie.

It was praised by military leaders. "Becoming Dracula: The Early Years of Volume Two," has a 1923 newspaper ad with General John J. Pershing, commandeer-in-chief of the U.S. Army, and Theodore Roosevelt Jr., Assistant Secretary of the Navy, tub-thumping the film. Some showings included military recruiters at the theater. It was generally well reviewed.

Lowe, who was in four other Lugosi films -- including "Chandu the Magician" -- does a capable job. Lugosi is ridiculously listed sixth in the credits. He's clearly the second lead in the film. As usual, Bela has the best screen presence, evoking emotion and intensity in his role. He's also the best actor in the film. He was ignored in press ballyhoo but was interviewed about his role in Hungarian media. As Arthur Lennig has noted in the biography "The Immortal Count," Lugosi in America reconciled himself to not being a "Valentino" type, instead settling for sinister "villain" roles. Lugosi expressed amusement at being from Hungary, a landlocked nation with no navy.

Martha Mansfield plays her vamp role well. The actress would tragically die in late 1923 after suffering burns while filming a movie.

After "The Silent Command," Lugosi would continue his slow trajectory to stardom that would arrive in 1931. He continued to play villains in future films. In "Daughters Who Pay," he was a Russian spy. In "The Midnight Girl," he was a wealthy, insensitive rake who lusted after his son's girlfriend. He would continue in stage performances and roles in films through the Roaring 20s. "The Silent Command" is easy to find for free on streaming services. It can also be purchased.

-- Doug Gibson

Becoming Nosferatu anthology offers prose, poetry on German silent horror

 

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Review by Doug Gibson

It's been almost six months since the 2024 Robert Eggers' film version of "Nosferatu" (reviews here and here) enjoyed strong success at the box office. The film was mostly faithful to F.W. Murnau's interpretation of the vampire, and enhanced the monster's connection to its prey Ellen Hutter.

Academics Matthew Sorrento and Gary D. Rhodes have edited -- and contributed stories to -- a new anthology, "Becoming Nosferatu: Stories Inspired By Silent German Horror," Bearmanor Media, 2025. Mostly stories, along with poetry, the book includes takes on several era icons, including Caligari, Dr. Mabuse, "M," "The Golem," "Vampyr," Metropolis" and "Nosferatu." Some of the tales are set in the past; others in more current times. Some of the tales are serious; some are comedic, others satirical. Some stories find contemporary parallels.

When I review art, I resist the urge to search for passages that support my biases. I'm just looking for a great read. Despite its not-too-subtle political message, I quite enjoyed Robert Guffey's novella "The Land of Thieves and Phantoms." Set in modern times in California's Inland Empire (an area that can be considered remote albeit in California), a charismatic preacher-type pol named Henry Orlok runs for mayor of Lake Wisborg, a small community.

Although not particularly aesthetically attractive, he soon commands widespread support. Two acolytes include a schoolteacher named Ellen and a realtor named Knock. Orlok rallies the town against a longstanding cleric and a peaceful baker whose name and business create unfortunate anagrams. Orlok and supporters eventually force out the town's power structure. 

Guffey effectively weaves a town of individuals manipulated by fear, nativism, prejudice, a longing for security, and a desire to find scapegoats. He provides vampire tendencies from Orlok and convert-like zeal from his conquests. However, more subtle is that dark habits already within his converts are allowed to flourish. A mean-spirited, perverted teacher-turned librarian is given new life to persecute. A conformist businessman easily turns allegiances to Orlok despite the harm to others. Unrepentent, he frankly admits to the persecuted baker that he personally has nothing against him. 

I won't give away the story's finale but it explores the totalitarian tendency to safely rehabilitate -- after their death and/or destruction -- the reputations of those destroyed.

Another story, a witty satirical tale, "Totenkopf," by Rhodes, involves a private detective, Jack Six, from Hollywood but now moving through Europe on assignment searching for the skull of the late director F.W. Murnau. As narrator Six admits, he's a conflicted soul. "... there were two of me, one investigating the Murnau case, the other investigating the me that was investigating the Murnau case." 

Jack Six's well-funded case moves him through conversations with ghosts, including Forry Ackerman, pining for Pola Negi, passages of Louise Brooks, and help from contemporaries, including Bela Lugosi biographer Robert Cremer. He moves through, bars, seances, hotel rooms, Ubers, cemetaries and cities in his quest. It's a fun read for genre fans. It kind of reminded me of Charles Bukowski's final novel "Pulp," where a jaded private eye searches for death.

One more Nosferatu-influenced story I'll mention is Argyle Goolsby's "Serpent on the Lace," a short tale that effective captures the mood and drama of Ellen Hutter's doomed but successful entrapment and destruction of the vampire.

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"The Good Doctor: An Editorial," by John Talbird, is a brief story that conveys the experience of those unfortunate patients submerged in a Caligari brain fog. 

I enjoyed Charles Rammelkamp's three stories. Two,"Der Golem," and Return of der Golem," provide the point of view of the monster, particularly his unrequited love for Jessica, and later another women.

Sorrento has a story, from the "Metropolis" section, "The Watcher," that traces the evolution and manipulation of an adolescent. Initially fascinated by street games, Julian becomes the protege of a Tall Man who leads him into a world of illegal boxing clubs, and punishment for gamblers. The youngster's name eventually changes.

I enjoyed a story "Yours Alraune," (from the 1928 film "Alraune"), by Martyn Pedler and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. A beautiful young woman named Alraune exchanges letters with film star Brigitte Helm, now an old woman. The two reveal a contrast of the younger woman, defining Helm by her films, and Helm's responses, which provide clarity and a realism and wisdom the younger woman will presumably attain.

"Mabuse's Last Scheme." by Jeffrey Ford, ("Dr. Mabuse the Gambler," 1922) is a good read with a fantastic ending. 

A poem, "Soul of Frankenstein," by Donald F. Glut, stuck with me. It's an eloquent, beautifully composed summary of the iconic novel.

Sorrento and Rhodes have done a fine job culling and editing stories that underscore the expressionist films this anthology pays homage to. I honestly enjoyed every story and poem. The anthology can be enjoyed by those in the know of the silent horror genre. And the stories can serve as inspiration -- for those unfamiliar with the film genre -- to appreciate the films.

Editor's note: To read an excellent analysis of the 2024 "Nosferatu' from Rhodes, go here.

Bela Lugosi shows screen presence in early silent 'Daughters Who Pay'

 

Review by Doug Gibson

For Bela Lugosi's birthday, I had considered reviewing his second-most-iconic-character film, "Son of Frankenstein." But then I was reading Gary Rhodes and Bill Kaffenberger's new book, "Becoming Dracula: Volume 2," and I was intrigued by some mid 1920s' silent films Bela acted in. One I watched, "Daughters Who Pay," impressed me, not so much with the film, which is mildly entertaining, but with Lugosi's magnificent screen presence. He's in his early '40s, and his commanding persona draws eyes to him in most scenes.

"Daughters Who Pay" was a 1925 states rights release that starred Marguerite De La Motte, a star of that era, who plays dual roles. There are separate plots that eventually intersect. The first involve young woman, Margaret Smith, who is essentially the head of a fatherless house. Margaret has a problem. Her loser brother, Larry, has frittered away, illegally, $10,000 from his firm. He faces ruin and prison if discovered. Margaret agrees to visit his boss and plead for mercy.

The other plot involves the boss, Henry Foster, who is upset that his son, Dick, is romantically involved with a Russian nightclub singer, Sonia Borisoff. The elder Foster demands his son give her up. Dick leaves, assuming he is cut off from the family fortune.

A theme of "Daughters Who Pay" is the Russian menace of the 1920s. Lo and behold we learn that Sonia is apparently part of a Russian spy operation. The local spy ring leader is played by Bela Lugosi, His name is Serge Romonsky. (Above is a photo of Lugosi with De La Motte in the film.)

Bela appears about 20 minutes into the film, interrupting Dick Foster telling Sonia that he's given up his money for her. Above at the top of the post (courtesy of the Bela Lugosi Blog) is a still of Lugosi in that scene. His youth, looks, and commanding sense are striking. He dominates the scene with an imperious air and visible contempt for the weak Dick Foster. "I can't say that I care for some of your American friends, my dear," Bela's character says in the titles.

Later in the scene, while they are alone, Bela's character orders Sonia to drop Dick Foster. She appears to have feeling for the young man, but reluctantly agrees. Bela's Romonsky lights up at this. He has feelings for Sonia. But she quickly rebuffs him. Offended, he leaves.

Meanwhile, Mary is unsuccessful in persuading Henry Foster to give her brother a break. She leaves and apparently runs into Sonia outside the Foster mansion, where the singer has been summoned. Once inside with Mr. Foster, Sonia agrees to dump his son, but only if he shows mercy to the brother of the woman she just met, Mary. Henry Foster appears bemused by this.

Meanwhile, members of the Russian spy ring are beginning to have suspicions about Sonia. Romonsky and the others make sure they are with Sonia when she tells Dick Foster their relationship is over. After she does that, crushing Dick, a triumphant Serge begins, in the parlance of the era, to make love to Sonia. She accepts a long kiss. After it's over, Romonsky recoils in shock, with blood dripping from his lip and mouth. (See photo below).

It's a fascinating scene; the most shocking part of the film. It also serves historically -- unintentionally of course -- as a preface to a future role, Lugosi as Dracula. It made me think a bit of Lugosi eying the blood on doomed Renfield's finger. The scene shifts to Sonia, who shows Lugosi the rose with thorns she had placed between her teeth prior to the kiss. 

Soon afterward, federal agents raid the location. Many spies are arrested. Romonsky and Sonia avoid capture. This convinces Romonsky Sonia is a traitor, and he arranges to set her up for capture and presumably death. 

I will not provide more of the plot except to mention this film is very easy to watch. Here is a YouTube link. The film is set mostly in the Hamptons and it was shot in winter, so there are nice scenes with New York snow. Reviews were middling, according to "Becoming Dracula: Volume 2," which includes snippets of many critics' opinions. 

The film has about 15 or so minutes of deterioration, for about 10 minutes in the latter middle and then heavy deterioration in the final several minutes. (The film is about 78 minutes). This does not prevent the viewer from losing the plot, or losing enjoyment in the film, but it will likely prevent this film from ever airing on, say, Turner Classic Movies. De La Motte's star diminished with the beginning of sound films. She made only a handful of sound films. George Terwilliger directed the film. John Bowers played Dick Foster, J. Barney Sherry played Henry Foster, and Joseph Striker played Larry Smith. As mentioned, De La Motte has two roles, which sets up a surprise at the end. Can you guess? 

Below is an April 20, 1926 ad for "Daughters Who Pay" from the Hattiesburg (Miss) American for the film promising free admission, with one purchase, for mom.

Ella Cinders is one marvelous silent film and Colleen Moore is great in it

Review by Doug Gibson

My initial reason for watching Ella Cinders, a 1926 comedy take on Cinderella from First National Pictures, was because I knew that my favorite silent comedy screen star, Harry Langdon, had a cameo with the actor who starred as Ella Cinders, Colleen Moore.

The cameo was great, very funny; but the movie is even better. It's a comedy classic and it's understandable that the winsome -- timid-but-determined heroine with the expressive countenance and bobbed hair -- Moore became a star.

Ella Cinders was a cartoon strip for decades in the prior century. It involved a beautiful step-child bullied and virtually enslaved by her widowed step-mother and her two far less attractive (and that's being kind) step-sisters. That's a familiar tale, of course. The setting is Colorado. Besides her screen-presence beauty, Moore is a genuine comedian who inspires pathos. I'm not scholar enough to analyze her talents next to other women silent stars, but with her pluckiness I do feel comfortable comparing her to Mabel Normand in two films, Mickey and The Extra Girl. (One of the Ella Cinder comic strips is below.)

So, Ella is pretty friendless except for one champion, the delightfully named Waite Lifter, the local iceman. (He's as handsome as a prince, by the way). One day, while cleaning up at a local get-together at her home she discovers news of a photo contest. The winner gets a screen contract in Hollywood. Ella sees it as an escape. To get the $3 needed to enter she babysits. She lifts a magazine from her sister on eye movement while acting. Watching her practice is very funny and special effects -- impressive for that time -- are used to have eyeballs move from side to side in the sockets.

(In the two stills below Moore's Ella is seen with her step-mother, Ma Cinders, played by Vera Lewis, and with her "prince," Waite Lifter, played by Lloyd Hughes).

Ella gets her photos taken and wins the trip. She won not for her beauty but because her eyes crossed while a fly was on her nose. The judges loved the comic effect. Her family shuns her but Waite sees her off on the train to Hollywood.

In the train, Moore shines in a scene where Ella takes a nap while alone on the train and wakes up with the car filled with Native American men in traditional garb. They are smoking cigars and Ella, wanting to be a good sport, tries puffing on one with comic results. Her acting in the scene is on par with Lucille Ball.

Once the train arrives in Hollywood Ella is hit with another major setback. The contest was a scam; the promoters are in jail. She's urged to go home but realizing how dire her prospects are there and the derision she'd receive, Ella musters the courage and determination to go it alone in the movie world and try to get a foot in the door.

This eventually leads to a funny sequence of scenes where she attempts to get past the guard at a studio's gates and is eventually chased through the lot by him. This includes the laugh-out-loud funny scene where Ella encounters Harry Langdon and mistakes him for another studio gate-crasher. Langdon, in complete "Little Elf" mode, listens quietly, using his facial expressions to provide encouragement. To avoid detection, he advises her to contort her body so he can place a tablecloth over her so she can hide as a table. It's clear that Harry was filming "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" at the time based on the clothes he was wearing. (1)

Ella is eventually discovered and caught. But she so impresses the director, played by Ella Cinders director Alfred E. Green, that she gets a film contract and favorable press notices in her hometown announcing she's a star.

I'll stop with the plot recap here except to mention we learn that iceman Waite Lifter is actually a national sports hero with a wealthy family. In a short scene we see him arguing with his father, who doesn't want him to marry Ella.

The film I watched clocks at 51 minutes. However, I believe the film is 74 or 75 minutes. Perhaps part of the film is lost and this is a shorter re-release print. It's still very enjoyable and with overall good pacing. The climax of the film involving a reunion of Ella and Waite seems a bit too abrupt and perhaps that is where cuts were made. I also wonder if a final resolution scene with Ella and her wicked step-family might be missing.

Colleen Moore had a long fascinating life. She retired from acting after starring in The Scarlet Letter in 1934. She was a shrewd investor, so much so that she was partner later in life with Merrill Lynch. Besides writing an autobiography, she also wrote a book on how to invest in the stock market. Born in 1899, she died in 1988.

Moore preserved her films through the Museum of Modern Art but was persuaded by Warner Brothers to give the nitrate films to the studio for preservation. Once there the films were ignored and not maintained. When Moore inquired about the films years later, she was deeply disappointed to learn that many had deteriorated beyond repair. She searched to replace the now-lost films with a little success.

As for Ella Cinders, it can be viewed at Amazon Prime and at EPIX network. However, neither of those prints have music. I recommend watching the YouTube print embedded below. Despite one odd scene of Moore "talking," it's an OK print with music that provides a fun 51 minutes for viewers. We can only hope that TCM Sunday Silents will provide a strong print, with Ben Model-quality music, in the future. If the longer version exists, that would be a treat to view as well.

1) During Ella Cinders, on a few occasions Moore brings her fingers to her mouth to express confusion or discomfort. The gesture is so much like Langdon that I can't help but wonder if he suggested to Moore that she use the gesture.

Three's a Crowd is Harry Langdon's costly masterpiece

Review by Doug Gibson

(This is our third original Plan9Crunch review this month of a Harry Langdon film. We are presenting these posts in recognition of the Harry Langdon Film Festival next weekend a the silent film history, Niles Film Museum in Fremont, Calif.)

There is a scene near the very end of "Three's A Crowd," 1927, that I find both heartbreaking and beautiful. Harry Langdon (No. 3) is about to lose No. 1, a beautiful young woman he has long pined for, and through a set of extraordinary events, managed to save the life of her and her newborn baby. For days she and the infant have recuperated at his meager tenement home up high above a long set of stairs. No. 3 (Harry) wishes for a fantasy. A charlatan has assured him that the young woman, who left an errant husband, will stay with Harry and both will raise the baby. But No. 2 (the prodigal husband) has returned, and No. 1 still loves him. They are leaving No. 3, and crushing a fantasy that deep down, he knows was impossible.

The minimalist comedian Harry Langdon, who ironically thrived in an era of slapstick, knockabout comedies, displays emotional chaos with his eyes, facial expressions, movements and other gestures. Once he looks down at the palm of his hand. The attentive viewer understands that is the palm the charlatan read before promising Harry romantic happiness with No. 2. Getting back to the crux of my point, just as the happy, reunited couple is leaving, with airy promises that No. 3 can visit them anytime, Harry clutches the sleeve of an overcoat draped over the woman. For just a moment, No. 3 caresses the wrist area of the sleeves. It's a fleeting moment, not noticed at all by the departing couple. But it's powerful, as it captures the deep reluctance and despair No. 3 has at losing what is literally his heart's desire.

Watch Three's a Crowd here.

I consider "Three's a Crowd" to be Harry Langdon's masterpiece silent film feature. He evolved his minimalist comic character -- who quietly through perhaps dumb luck and God's providence wins happiness and the girl in movies -- to a comic cipher who doesn't get the girl of his dreams, who doesn't find a place in the world, doesn't improve his financial means. In short, he is a survivor, who gets up every day and gets through it with a stoicism that only reveals emotion, and comedy appreciation, though gestures, both facial and body, and stubborn determination to both endure trials and create facsimiles of what he would like to have. (An example of this is found early in the film where Harry encounters a doll that looks a lot like him. Observing his boorish, bullying, and insecure, boss - Harry is an assistant to a trucker - playing with his young son, Harry imitates this by playing with his doll in the same manner.)

"Three's a Crowd" has a simple plot. No. 3, Harry, has a crush on a girl, No. 2, he has observed. Because she left her husband, No. 2, Harry is placed in a situation where he can both save her, get help for her when she gives birth, and provide her and baby space to recuperate. That leads to the climax previously discussed. There are greats bits of comedy in the film. Examples include Harry trying to get back through a trap door with a large curtain . Every time Harry tries to open the door to climb in, more curtain falls and he has to start over. More great comedy is Harry preparing a diaper for the infant. Daydreaming causes him to prepare it as a pie. There is a finale, epilogue scene that involves Harry returning to the false hypnotist's office. I won't give it away but it is laugh out loud comedy.

"Three's a Crowd" is a beautiful film to watch. The camera work of the surrounding area is perfect. As Gabriella Oldham notes in her biography, Harry Langdon: King of Silent Cinema, the star and director recreated a tenement neighborhood of three or four blocks on the studio, with 300 extras. Snow was realistically created in 90-degree California heat! The sights of tenement life, morning to evening, are captivating. I love the "snowstorm" scenes and individuals braving their way through the winds, bumping into poles, or the early-morning milk wagons, the busy late-morning afternoon streets, the lonely, steep staircase that leads to Harry's home.

I call "Three's a Crowd" a costly masterpiece. I acknowledge it has many detractors. It lost money and basically was the genesis of Harry Langdon's end as a leading features actor. Honestly, one can't blame First National Pictures for being angry with Langdon delivering a film so different from box office winners such as "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp," and "The Strong Man." And who can blame audiences, long accustomed to Langdon "Little Elfing-ing" his way to winning the girl and success, being nonplussed that the protagonist's lonely, dour life stays that way at the end?

But Langdon was evolving his character, and I think he succeeded. I urge readers to buy the KINO DVD release of "Three's a Crowd," paired with "The Chaser," and listen to David Kalat's commentary. He makes a strong case against the fabulist (when it came to Langdon) Frank Capra's criticisms that were, unfortunately, picked up by scholars like Leonard Maltin and others. "Three's a Crowd" was a financial bomb, but so was "The General," "Duck Soup" and many other films appropriately revered today. The late James Agee tabbed Langdon as one of the four comedy greats, along with Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd. He merits that. Unfortunately, Langdon's silent features are virtually ignored by Turner Classic Movies. I've never seen a silent feature aired. Occasionally the Sennett shorts are aired, and some of his Hal Roach early talkie shorts. That indifference is a sin of omission by TCM that needs to be repented of.

"Three's a Crowd" is often described as a cloying attempt to duplicate Chaplin's "The Kid." I disagree. Langdon is not Chaplin's Tramp. He is a silent, ignored working-class cipher, with a dream that falls into his lap. Unlike Chaplin's Tramp, who is perceptive enough to understand the kid needs his mom, Harry assumes a fantasy -- with a palm reader's urging -- that can't realistically occur. Chaplin's Tramp also ends "The Kid" with a clear guarantee that he can have a relationship in the future. Despite promises from the reunited couple in "Three's a Crowd," there is no sense that No. 3 has a rewarding future with the couple and their baby. How can he? He's No. 3.

Also, despite Harry's hopes, there's an entertaining dream sequence by Harry where he is fighting the husband to protect the woman and child. Despite encouragement from the woman, Harry loses the bout. In his own dream, No. 3 loses. It underscores that "Three's a Crowd" is a sad tale of unrequited desires with comedy. It's hard to please audiences expecting slapstick to dominate.

Please watch "Three's a Crowd" above. Watch it more than once. Enjoy Harry Langdon providing great comedy in an understated, minimalist manner. And then e-mail TCM and urge them to show "Three's a Crowd" or another Langdon silent feature on a Sunday night. It's about time. As much as I love "The Kid," "The General" or "The Freshman" on TCM, they've probably played 100 times the past generation. Audiences merit a chance to sample Langdon's genius.

Long Pants – Harry Langdon Dreams of Romance

Review by Steve D. Stones

Long Pants, also known as Johnny Newcomer, is a 1927 silent era comedy directed by Frank Capra and starring comic genius Harry Langdon. This is the second and final collaboration between Capra and Langdon. (This is Plan9Crunch's second original Harry Langdon post this month, in recognition of the upcoming Harry Langdon Film Festival later this month in Fremont, Calif.)

In the film, Langdon plays baby faced Harry Shelby, a youngster who dreams of romance by going to the Oak Grove Public Library to check out reading material, such as Desire Under The Elms, to read in the privacy of his house attic. His parents hope that he will get married one day. His mother (Gladys Brockwell) says to his father (Alan Roscoe) “Short pants are keeping him off the street.” Young Shelby eventually grows out of the short pants and his life changes when he starts to wear longer pants.

One day, a beautiful femme fatale named Bebe Blair (Alma Bennett) gets a flat tire in front of Shelby's home. The driver of the car leaves to get help with the flat tire. Shelby sees Blair in the car and immediately falls in love with her. Shelby rides his bike around Blair's car in an attempt to get her attention and impress her. Eventually the two have a long kiss in the car just before the driver returns.

After Blair and the driver leave, Shelby finds a note on the ground that mentions getting married. Shelby assumes it is addressed to him from Blair and starts to dance happily in the street. Little does he know that Blair has no interest in him even though they both kissed. Blair has a boyfriend in the mob.

Although Shelby is to be married to his childhood sweetheart - Priscilla (Priscilla Bonner) and attend a Egg Festival with her, he dreams of being with Blair. On his wedding day to Priscilla, Shelby sees a front page headline in the local newspaper that Blair has been arrested. Apparently Blair is mixed up in a big crime racket.

Watch Long Pants here.

On that same day of his wedding, Shelby asks his bride-to-be to take a walk with him out into the woods. He takes a gun with him in order to murder Priscilla. Some of the funniest sequences can be seen during this part of the film. He asks Priscilla to close her eyes and count to five hundred as he slowly backs away from her in the forest to pull out the gun and shoot her. The problem is, however, that the gun keeps sliding down his pant leg, and he eventually backs into a barbed wire fence, then steps into a bear trap. Great comic, slap stick sequences during this part of the film.

The wedding is called off as Shelby comes to Blair's aide to help her escape from jail. After the escape, Shelby carries Blair around in a large crate on his back. A basket of light bulbs placed on the crate by a street worker begin to slide off the crate one by one as Shelby and Blair think gun shots are being fired at them. Some more great comedy sequences.

I find some of the more subtle images in the opening sequences to be the most interesting in the film, such as a shot of a swinging wood gate in front of a house, wrinkled long pants blowing in the wind on a clothes line, and the closing of an attic opening as young Shelby retires to the attic to read romance novels. These images help to symbolize Shelby's fate in the film.

Although Long Pants was a box office flop and signaled a downward spiral for the career of Harry Langdon, it is still required viewing for any Langdon fan. Kino Video released a DVD of Long Pants in 2000 with two other Langdon films included on the DVD – The Strong Man and Tramp, Tramp, Tramp with Joan Crawford. Don't miss this release if you're a Langdon fan. Happy viewing.

"The Unknown' is a silent era masterpiece

By Doug Gibson

When I watch Tod Browning's 1927 silent masterpiece "The Unknown," and I've seen the film many times, for 50 minutes time ceases to exist. I'm lost in a film that is simply Lon Chaney's greatest performance, and yes that includes "Phantom of the Opera" and "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." "The Unknown" is the most intense performance Chaney had, and 90 percent of the effectiveness is in his facial expressions.

The film involves a small circus troupe, owned by a gypsy entrepreneur. Alonzo the Armless (Chaney) is the star attraction, a man without arms who can do amazing stunts, such as throw knives around the pretty torso of the circus owner's daughter, Nanon, played by a very young, barely clothed, and very gorgeous Joan Crawford. Another star performer is circus strongman, Malabar, played by Norman Kerry. Malabar loves Nanon, but she shrinks from him, telling Alonzo that she hates to have men's hands pawing her.

Alonzo is assisted by a little person, Cojo (John George). Cojo helps Alonzo conceal a secret -- that he really has arms. In fact, he has a hand with two thumbs. Alonzo, it's learned, is on the run the police, who are looking for a suspect with arms. All this is interesting but ultimately it is supporting material to the film's theme, which is Alonzo's desire to posses Nanon and gain her love. I hesitate to say that Alonzo is in love with Nanon. He equates love with possession, and ownership. Chaney's facial expressions when Alonzo is near Nanon are movie legend, combinations of pride, desire, lust, deformed love, coveting, desperation.

In the guise of being a friend, Chaney encourages Malabar to try to embrace and kiss Nanon, fully knowing that will repel the object of his desire. When Malabar is near, Alonzo's face often changes into a furious loathing individual, with envy, jealously and hate making his visage truly terrifying. One senses easily what a dangerous man Chaney's Alonzo really is when disturbed. Indeed, after being humiliated by Nanon's father, circus owner Antonio Zanzi (Nick De Rita) Alonzo swiftly finds him alone and kills him.

It's evident that if his possessive longing for Nanon -- one that Alonzo can only hide with great effort -- is not requited soon, mortal trouble may emerge soon. This leads Alonzo to engage in a macabre, desperate act that he hopes will win Nanon's love. When his ploy backfires, the minute or so where Chaney's countenance changes from hope, ecstasy, confusion, despair, anger and finally rage disguised as maniacal laughter is perhaps the strongest in silent films, and perhaps all films. The late Burt Lancaster cited the scene as the most compelling he ever witnessed in film. Alonzo's ensuing desperation leads to a climax that threatens Nanon, Malabar and himself.

Adding to the eccentricity and creepiness of this movie is its accurate descriptions of life in a small-town circus, a job that a younger Browning once had. Chaney was, as always, a perfectionist, and with Browning's direction gets excellent acting performances from Crawford, Kerry, and others. Although it looks on the screen as if Cheney is actually performing stunts, and everyday activities, with his feet, Browning used a an armless double, Paul Desmuke, to manipulate the toes. For a long time "The Unknown" was virtually a lost film, until a print was located in 1968 in Paris. The 50-minute version is missing a few unimportant scenes. The shorter version actually improves the film, making it leaner and more focused. Chaney's obsessive, jealous desire for Nanon is more focused, with fewer interruptions.

This film is shown several times a year on TCM. Don't miss it the next time it airs. It's also on DVD and snippets are found on YouTube, see below. The film was released by MGM. Versions seen today have a suitable creepy, semi-synthetic score. Watch the trailer below the snippet!

Cat and the Canary an early haunted house film

By Doug Gibson

“The Cat and the Canary,” a 1927 silent from Universal, directed by Paul Leni, a student of the German expressionist school, is a fun spooky/silly horror/comedy. It’s based on stage plays of that era — the 1920s — that were popular, with spooky forbidding mansions, red herrings, young lovelies in peril, bumbling cops, and homicidal maniacs. While “The Cat and the Canary” is a reaction to what was popular 85 years ago, it also over time is the genesis of many of the cliches that horror film viewers expect from haunted houses for at least two generations after the film.

There’s the forbidding mansion in a state of decay, the ominous housekeeper, the deceased, crazy-in-life owner who has gathered his heirs to the mansion for a reading of his crazed will. There’s the collection of eccentric relatives, including a young lovely and a bumbling good guy who has a crush on the lady. There’s the stereotypical murder, a killer on the loose, and escaped madman, a bumbling cop or two, a sinister doctor, a creepy lawyer, and a couple of other oddballs thrown in for good measure.

That’s essentially the plot of “The Cat and the Canary.” Twenty years after crazy old rich Cyrus West dies, he gathers, by his command, his heirs to the mansion. They include the young lovely Annabelle West (Laura LaPlanche), and her cousins, bumbling Paul Jones, (Creighton Hale), and more forbidding Charlie Wilder (Forrest Stanley). Hale’s Jones, by the way, looks just like a befuddled “Harry Potter,” complete with the glasses and unkept hair. How ironic that generations earlier, we had a “Harry Potter-ish” character in cinema. Of course, he’s not a wizard, although he ends up being the hero in this tale.

Not surprisingly, young lovely Annabelle is the heir and will keep her riches as long as the doctor is assured she is not insane. If she’s proven insane, an unnamed person, whose name is in the lawyer’s pocket, will inherit all the cash. (I forgot to mention that the envelope with that name was apparently opened up.) Such are the convoluted but fun plots. It isn’t long before the lawyer is murdered and a murderous fiend is haunting the mansion, trying to bump people off and harm our heroine.

As mentioned, director Leni incorporates much of the silent German expressionist film style. Expressionist thought puts feelings, inner particularly, above the action that is being portrayed. We feel the haunted house through the prism of the actors, more so than through the action we are seeing. The haunted mansion is almost dream-like in its many hallways, stairs, curtains and claustrophobic atmosphere.

I particularly like one of Leni’s touches at the beginning, where he portrays Cyrus West’s madness by portraying him as a “canary” surrounded by cats eager to feast on him. It is important to recall that this is a spoof, and there is very witty comedy throughout. Hale in particular plays the wimpy-turned-heroic hero as well as many silent comedians such as Lloyd and Chaplin. Also providing very strong acting chops is Martha Mattox, who plays the forbidding, gloomy housekeeper, Mammy Pleasant.

“The Cat and the Canary” was a big hit and was remade in 1930 as “The Cat Creeps,” which was Universal’s first sound horror film. A Spanish version was made as well. Unfortunately, “... Cat Creeps” is believed lost. In 1939, it was remade as a comedy vehicle for Bob Hope. There was a 1961 Swedish version made and in 1970, Richard Gordon produced a British version. However, the 1927 version remains the best version. The film was, as mentioned, based on a popular play of the same name.

The classic haunted house setting, the expressionist horror mixed with laughs provides a nice atmosphere fit for a Halloween viewing. The film is often shown on Turner Classic Movies.

The first vampire of the screen - Theda Bara

Theda Bara as The Vampire in the film A FOOL THERE WAS (1915)

By Steve D. Stones

The lovely Theda Bara in A Fool There Was is not so much a vampire who wears a cape and sucks the blood from victims, like Bela Lugosi in Dracula (1931) or Max Shreck in Nosferatu (1922). She is a seductress who sucks the life out of married men – who then lose everything, including their wives, children and social status. A Fool There Was is a tale of lust, infidelity and seduction.

John Schuyler, played by Edward Jose, is a wealthy Wall Street lawyer and statesman called by the President of The United States to sail to England as a special envoy to settle claims with Great Britain. His mistress, played by Bara, joins him on the voyage. Soon, Schuyler's friends and wife find out about his affair. His life quickly begins to crumble, as his friends and loved ones turn their back on him.

Bara was born Theodosia Burr Goodman in Cincinnati, Ohio on July 29^th, 1885. She is considered cinema's first female “sex symbol” and “femme fatale.” Her career spanned 40 films between 1914 – 1926. Most of these films are considered lost from a 1937 vault fire at Fox Studios in Fort Lee, New Jersey – where Bara shot most of the films.

In 1917, Bara moved to Hollywood to film Cleopatra. Hollywood at that time was quickly becoming the entertainment capital of America. Hollywood was the place to be if you were an actor at that time. A Production Code was not enforced until 1930, so Bara was known for wearing very revealing costumes in her films. This may be one of many reasons why some refer to Bara as a “vamp.”

Only six of her forty films are said to exist today, including: The Stain (1914), A Fool There Was (1915), East Lynne (1916), The Unchastened Woman (1925) and two short comedies made for Hal Roach Studios – Madame Mystery and 45 Minutes From Hollywood. Some footage of Cleopatra (1917) managed to survive at the Museum of Modern Art's film collection in New York. Bara never appeared in a sound film, which adds to her sense of mystique and intrigue.

Bara eventually got tired of being typecast as variations of the vamp character. When her contract ended in 1919 with Fox studios, she assumed other roles would be forthcoming. This did not happen. She instead headed to Broadway in 1920 to star in "The Blue Flame." The performance was a success, but the critics thought it was terrible.

The Fort Lee Film Commission in New Jersey dedicated Main Street and Linwood Avenue as “Theda Bara Way.” Her image also appeared on postage stamps in 1994. A 2006 documentary – The Woman With The Hungry Eyes – was made about Bara's career.

For further information about the career of Theda Bara, refer to Phil Hall's book – In Search of Lost Films (Bear Manor Media 2016). Hall's book is reviewed here on Plan 9 Crunch. Happy viewing.

The Unknown highlights Lon Chaney's intensity

By Doug Gibson

When I watch Tod Browning's 1927 silent masterpiece "The Unknown," and I've seen the film many times, for 50 minutes time ceases to exist. I'm lost in a film that is simply Lon Chaney's greatest performance, and yes that includes "Phantom of the Opera" and "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." "The Unknown" is the most intense performance Chaney had, and 90 percent of the effectiveness is in his facial expressions.

The film involves a small circus troupe, owned by a gypsy entrepreneur. Alonzo the Armless (Chaney) is the star attraction, a man without arms who can do amazing stunts, such as throw knives around the pretty torso of the circus owner's daughter, Nanon, played by a very young, barely clothed, and very gorgeous Joan Crawford. Another star performer is circus strongman, Malabar, played by Norman Kerry. Malabar loves Nanon, but she shrinks from him, telling Alonzo that she hates to have men's hands pawing her.

Alonzo is assisted by a little person, Cojo (John George). Cojo helps Alonzo conceal a secret -- that he really has arms. In fact, he has a hand with two thumbs. Alonzo, it's learned, is on the run the police, who are looking for a suspect with arms. All this is interesting but ultimately it is supporting material to the film's theme, which is Alonzo's desire to posses Nanon and gain her love. I hesitate to say that Alonzo is in love with Nanon. He equates love with possession, and ownership. Chaney's facial expressions when Alonzo is near Nanon are movie legend, combinations of pride, desire, lust, deformed love, coveting, desperation.

In the guise of being a friend, Chaney encourages Malabar to try to embrace and kiss Nanon, fully knowing that will repel the object of his desire. When Malabar is near, Alonzo's face often changes into a furious loathing individual, with envy, jealously and hate making his visage truly terrifying. One senses easily what a dangerous man Chaney's Alonzo really is when disturbed. Indeed, after being humiliated by Nanon's father, circus owner Antonio Zanzi (Nick De Rita) Alonzo swiftly finds him alone and kills him.

It's evident that if his possessive longing for Nanon -- one that Alonzo can only hide with great effort -- is not requited soon, mortal trouble may emerge soon. This leads Alonzo to engage in a macabre, desperate act that he hopes will win Nanon's love. When his ploy backfires, the minute or so where Chaney's countenance changes from hope, ecstasy, confusion, despair, anger and finally rage disguised as maniacal laughter is perhaps the strongest in silent films, and perhaps all films. The late Burt Lancaster cited the scene as the most compelling he ever witnessed in film. Alonzo's ensuing desperation leads to a climax that threatens Nanon, Malabar and himself.

Adding to the eccentricity and creepiness of this movie is its accurate descriptions of life in a small-town circus, a job that a younger Browning once had. Chaney was, as always, a perfectionist, and with Browning's direction gets excellent acting performances from Crawford, Kerry, and others. Although it looks on the screen as if Cheney is actually performing stunts, and everyday activities, with his feet, Browning used a an armless double, Paul Desmuke, to manipulate the toes. For a long time "The Unknown" was virtually a lost film, until a print was located in 1968 in Paris. The 50-minute version is missing a few unimportant scenes. The shorter version actually improves the film, making it leaner and more focused. Chaney's obsessive, jealous desire for Nanon is more focused, with fewer interruptions.

This film is shown several times a year on TCM, and is on in a few hours after this post, on Oct. 8, 2016, at 6:30 a.m. EST -- don't miss it the next time it airs. It's also on DVD and YouTube, with part one above. The film was released by MGM. Versions seen today have a suitable creepy, semi-synthetic score. Watch the trailer below!

An interview with In Search of Lost Films author Phil Hall

Interview by Doug Gibson

Recently, we reviewed Phil Hall's fascinating new book from BearManor Media, "In Search of Lost Films." You can read our review here. Phil's book provides us all hope that our fondest and most-hoped-for lost films may surface, whether in dusty foreign archives, the end shelf of a private collection, or even at a yard sale.

Today, he answers several questions related to his work, providing readers more insight into the search for lost films. You can buy Phil's book here and here. On with the interview!
---

1  
            If someone with unlimited resources was looking for a typical lost film of the 20s or early 30s, one that was fairly widely distributed, where are the best locations to search

             Hall: If we are talking about American films, the best places would be foreign archives. A lopsided majority of recovered American films turned up in Europe and many have emerged in Australia, most likely because the distributors for those films didn’t bother to recover the prints from their overseas releases. If you are talking about Asian films, the same answer would apply: Indian and Chinese films that disappeared in their respective countries have turned up in archives and collections with a significant Asian expatriate population.

1    Why was silent film so disregarded by film companies so quickly? Did sound film make it seem obsolete quickly?

           Hall: The popularity of sound films was fast and furious, catching many film companies off-guard. Indeed, “The Jazz Singer” and the early talkies were initially seen as novelties by the Hollywood studios and many film critics. But audiences were the ones that ultimately decided what they wanted to see and once dialogue and synchronized music was incorporated into films there was no turning back.

          In retrospect, this was curious because so many early talkies were not very good, while many silent films from the 1927-1929 period represented the apex of screen art. But obsolescence did not occur over immediately: many small town U.S. cinemas were not able to afford a rewiring for sound until the early 1930s, so there were still venues for silent movies. Silent production continued in Russia, Japan, China and other nations well into the mid-1930s, while many independent and avant-garde U.S. productions remained silent well into the 1940s

Why were motion picture companies so lax for so many decades at preserving their products? I refer mainly to allowing nitrate film to store inefficiently and corrupt, and allowing these old films’ prints to be stored in the same location?

Hall: Because they never saw films as anything more than a disposable commodity. Prior to the advent of television, once a film ran its course in release there was no place for it to go, unless it was a mega-hit that could be re-released every few years. Plus, storage was expensive (especially off-site in warehouses). Unfortunately, the film companies lacked contemporary prescience in realizing the cultural, historic and commercial value of the older films.

1    In your opinion, what are five “lost” films that you think are likely to be found?

Hall: That’s hard to say, because films that were considered to be irretrievably lost, such as Orson Welles’ footage for “Too Much Johnson,” have miraculously turned up in the least likely places. I would like to imagine that Welles’ footage for his unfinished “Moby Dick Rehearsed” is still out there (it was last seen in the late 1960s), and I would hope that the Kubrick preserved the deleted pie fight climax from “Dr. Strangelove.” Otherwise, I would wager that three long-lost silent comedies – Harry Langdon’s “Heart Trouble,” Laurel and Hardy’s “Hats Off” and the first Marx Brothers film “Humor Risk” are resting in the dusty corner of a private collection or a foreign archive.

1    Why is so much excess footage, edited out of features, not preserved? I refer to "The Wizard of Oz," "Greed," "Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman," etc. It amazes me that a director like Stroheim would not have saved his first cut of "Greed," for example.

      

                Hall: There was no perceived commercial value for deleted sequences – the whole notion of including deleted sequences as part of a film’s release only occurred when home video came into the forefront. Plus, as stated earlier, storage of film is expensive, and storage of footage that was cut from a release was not considered practical. With “Greed,” von Stroheim had no control of the footage that he shot – that was an MGM production, and he actually reneged on his original contract by going far over the original budget. I am surprised the film was ever completed, let alone released. 

1    There are a lot of grindhouse films that are lost, particularly Andy Milligan films. Where’s the best places to look to discover these non-nitrate lost films.

             Hall: Those are most likely in private American collections – very few theatrical prints were made from those releases, and the lucky people that snagged the prints after their releases were over probably put them away and forgot about them.

      What are three key things you learned from researching this book?

            Hall: First, I have the most patient publisher on Earth: the book was delivered a year late because of the extraordinary level of research and fact-checking required. Second, I never truly realized the depth and scope of lost films until I started doing research on the subject. And, third, many people are unaware that so many films are lost, and I honored to be able to introduce them to this issue.

1    Finally, what advice do you give to the average person on find a location to stumble across a lost film? Where should they?

     Hall: Lost films have  turned up in the strangest places – garbage bins, garden sheds, basements, and even in archives and museums under the wrong label. If you are in the U.S. and find a rare print, get in touch with a reputable archive, such as the Library of Congress, the Museum of Modern Art or the George Eastman House, to ensure that the film is properly stored and can receive the appropriate restorative care.

       Although you mention in the book that the Medved brothers wrote about the gay porn film, "Him," why do you think they did?

     Hall: “Him” was included in “The Golden Turkey Awards” in the chapter on bad porn concepts. I don’t know if the Medveds actually saw “Him” or read about it from a trade journal review. I assume they didn’t see the film – I can’t imagine Michael Medved in a gay porn venue. When the book came out in 1979, the film was not considered lost. It wasn’t until the early 2000s that people started to realize that no print of “Him” was in circulation or available from any adult film sources, and it was only then that it was declared a lost film. Of course, had it not been for the Medveds, we would never have known it existed in the first place.

    Thanks very much for your time, Phil.