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| When a Man Loves; Silent John Barrymore | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 23 2010, 12:17 AM (236 Views) | |
| CliffClaven | Aug 23 2010, 12:17 AM Post #1 |
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Balcony Gang, Foist Class
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Finally watched this on my DVR. It's a big-budget 1927 costume epic, set in the time of Louis XV. It doesn't have dialogue, but it does have a Vitaphone recorded music score that sounds very nice, technically and musically. The film itself is slick, lavish and mighty peculiar. It starts on a familiar path and then jumps the rails. Barrymore is a young man of noble family about to begin studying for the priesthood. Dolores Costello is a beautiful young innocent whose scoundrel of a brother -- Warner Oland, playing an occidental -- is about to deposit her in a convent because he's squandered the family fortune. A leering nobleman makes a deal to buy Dolores, but Barrymore overhears and heroically whisks her away to Paris. For the record, the moment he first sees Dolores he drops the medallion of St. Mary that was supposed to protect him from temptations of the flesh. In Paris, they rent a room, complete with haggish landlady and smirking maid. They resist temptation until late that night, when the storm outside causes Dolores to jump out of bed and into Barrymore's lap like a terrified child. Fade out on a hot kiss, fade in on them a week later, joyously cohabiting (and evidently not having left the room). While Barrymore is out to draw on his father's money to pay the rent and buy her some major jewelry, brother Oland arrives to inform her Barrymore will be arrested for abducting her. Then comes an sincere friend of Barrymore's, pleading with her to give him up, lest he lose father, fortune and honor (he's hugely relieved to hear she hasn't actually married him). Oland, who not too convincingly hides when this second visitor arrives, induces her to leave -- and rips off the part of the goodbye note where she pledges her love and promises to return. Barrymore finds the apartment barren except for Dolores's pet kitty (played by different color cats in various scenes) and desperately seeks her in the streets. He ends up sulking in a low class bar, still clutching the kitty (he does order milk for her while drowning his own sorrows). Meanwhile, Dolores realizes her brother has delivered her to the same sleazy nobleman and runs away. A brute grabs her and drags her into the same bar where Barrymore is brooding, but he doesn't hear her screaming or brother Oland "rescuing" her on behalf of her new master. Later, at a sidewalk cafe where Barrymore sits still clutching the kitty, his friend informs him that Dolores is now well known as the mistress of an infamous nobleman. At his urging, Barrymore draws on "his father's credits" to dress up slick and visit an aristocratic gambling club, where he sees her draped in jewels and finery. He renounces her furiously. A scene of Barrymore's father receiving the good news. He proudly points to a portrait of an altar boy -- presumably Barrymore as a child. A year later: Barrymore, now convinced "women have no souls", has resumed his studies and is one day from becoming a priest. Dolores appears and begs for his forgiveness. She left the nobleman that night at the gambling club, but kept the jewels and finery because, well, girls like pretty things. Barrymore glowers at her, then looks at a stained glass window of the Magdalen. Now I'm figuring the movie is going to end here, with Dolores redeemed by his forgiveness and seeking the convent. Or perhaps they actually marry and find pure, honest love far from the Big City. Instead, Barrymore rips off his black robe to reveal an open shirt and swashbuckler pants, kisses her passionately, and flees with her -- to the consternation of her ex-lover, who had her followed. Predictability sort of goes out the window at this point. Fade in on Barrymore and Dolores living in aristocratic splendor -- still unmarried, by the way -- with rich friends and amusements involving midgets and a trained monkey. Oh, and the cat is back. Oland hangs about for "crumbs of hospitality," which looks to be a large buffet for one. Barrymore throws money around and Dolores loves being spent on. You think, this is a questionable happy ending. But wait, there's more! Word arrives that Barrymore's father finally got wind of the backsliding and cut off funds. Oland promptly convinces Barrymore he can Make Big Bucks as a card cheat. Oland does some slick card work (using a double, judging from the carefully cropped shot); Barrymore picks it up instantly -- he explains he acquired a supple wrist by swinging the incense burner as an altar boy. With Oland and Dolores in tow, Barrymore goes to ply his new trade at the home of a fey aristocrat whose facial makeup includes odd symbols and asymmetric eyebrows. Dolores' ex-lover is there, hoping the King will help him get her back. The King, however, craves the "little Venus" and decides to play a hand of cards for her. The King, by the way, prides himself on being a fine card cheat. When they both play the ace of diamonds, the King essentially declares himself the winner and directs that his winnings be brought to his bedroom. Meanwhile, Barrymore gets into an insane swordfight with pretty much everybody, grinning like a lunatic. Upstairs, the King is persuaded that Dolores' reputation as a "public woman" would degrade him, so he hands her off to the ex-lover, who has her hauled off to be deported to Louisiana (eventually it's explained there's a penal colony there, not a Mardi Gras package tour). Fresh from his swordfight, Barrymore gets this info by nearly killing his host. He goes to beg the Prefect of Police for her freedom, but it turns out to be the ex-lover. He threatens Barrymore with the gallows; Barrymore goes back into scary lunatic mode and kills him. Barrymore escapes the pursuing police to join Dolores on the prison ship, where she has already caught the eye of the captain -- she inspires men's acquisitional instincts everywhere. Barrymore declares he's her husband (did we miss something?) and gets tossed in a cage full of chained-up murderers with oiled skin. Another of the female prisoners angrily defends Dolores, insisting the poor girl is ill (she does tend to go limp when being manhandled, which happens a lot in this movie). Later. America is in sight. The captain is ready for the "little blonde dessert I've been saving for the last." Meanwhile, Barrymore -- now taking his scary lunatic mode up several notches, scrambling up the sides of his cage like an agitated chimp -- incites the prisoners to break their chains and take over the ship, launching an exciting new career as pirates. They do, not only killing off the crew but happily dragging the unwilling women prisoners up on deck for implied purposes (one has a baby; one of the newly minted pirates cheerfully grabs it and throws it for distance). Barrymore saves Dolores from the captain's depravations -- with help from prisoners who take bullets for him and Dolores' female protector who gets slapped aside. They escape in a lifeboat, leaving the carnage in full swing (a body almost hits their boat as they escape). Now, with freedom before them, the bedraggled pair kiss passionately. Don't know what happened to the cat; she dropped out of sight when the trained monkey showed up. This was fascinating not so much for the lurid stuff -- I've seen juicier silents -- or for what felt like the mashup of two or three stories, but for being amazingly amoral (as opposed to immoral). Garbo's vamps had to suffer or even die before the end titles, and other films involving Fallen Women and/or Erring Men would make clear that they were either worthy of a happy ending or deserving of punishment. The occasional unjust punishments were presented as tragic. The odd unearned happy ending was either satirical (like a scheming golddigger starting on a new victim) or an indictment (the lover from Woman of Paris going his merry way). This film presents the couple's behavior with no comment one way or another -- and doesn't really challenge you to have an opinion either. It's clearly stated that Dolores acquires a taste for luxury and isn't inclined to give it up, even to convince the man she loves. Barrymore, the divinity student, has no problem with shacking up, impulsively casting aside his vocation (twice), living extravagantly in sin, becoming a card cheat to maintain the lifestyle, killing a rival, and finally triggering an orgy of murder and rape to facilitate their escape. Oh, and everybody seems to excuse Oland for cheerfully selling his sister to a rich stranger and taking some pains to deliver her. No repentance/redemption; no blaming of cruel fate or society; not even a real suggestion that these were upright souls before circumstances conspired against them. It just seems to assume you'll root for these two very pretty actors for no other reason than their professed love for each other. Evidently it didn't have censor troubles and was a big hit. |
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| panzer the great & terrible | Aug 23 2010, 07:59 AM Post #2 |
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Mouth Breather
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The reason the tale's so lurid is that it's a movie adaptation of a major 19th Century French novel that was made into two different operas, both still performed today: Manon and Manon Lescaut. Sounds like the movie is faithful to the story until the last reel -- in the novel there's no lustful captain, no pirate uprising, and the two lovers die of hunger and exhaustion on the vast plains of Louisiana. I guess that wasn't deemed cinematic enough. Of course this was the height of Pre-Code laxity. We don't think of silents as amoral, but some were and if you based your story on something as high-toned as TWO operas, you could get away with a lot. Nice review, cliff. |
| Life is just a bowl of cherries, it's too mysterious, don't take it serious... | |
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| CliffClaven | Aug 23 2010, 11:25 AM Post #3 |
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Balcony Gang, Foist Class
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Intriguing. For some reason I found myself recalling the big MGM Madame Bovary. The only discernible theme seemed to be that Emma's husband and daughter were victims and the rest -- including Emma herself -- were no darn good. But they tried mighty hard to pretend that this dark character study was actually a parable or expose or something. A thundering prologue/epilogue with James Mason promised an important message. There were ringing condemnations of the disgusting country folk; the pompous and hypocritical middle-class folk; and the immoral rich folk -- in short, just about everybody. Oh, and don't forget cheap romantic fiction filling girls' heads with illusions. While they were decent enough to resist a pat "explanation" (She would have been happy without those dang books!) or a deathbed conversion ("I understand now!"), I was left with the feeling they were trying to claim sympathy for their central character by constantly suggesting she herself was somehow a victim. |
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| panzer the great & terrible | Aug 23 2010, 03:19 PM Post #4 |
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Mouth Breather
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When the Bovary movie came out, a lot of reviews said it wasn't as good as the book, but I've never read the book. I agree it's hard to figure what the movie is trying to say. I like the scene where they break the windows at the ball, but I'm told it ain't in the book. As near as I can figure the story is about how romanticism is bad for you, but I wouldn't swear to that. The movie seems to want to have it both ways: be romantic and condemn the romantic attitude. That's very MGM: too many fingers in the pie. If you're intrigued enough to watch an opera, the second, Manon Lescaut, is more entertaining because it's by Puccini, an Italian who wrote good tunes. Edited by panzer the great & terrible, Aug 23 2010, 05:26 PM.
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| Life is just a bowl of cherries, it's too mysterious, don't take it serious... | |
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