Nora Luckey (Kate Price), “always taking chances”, enters a sweepstakes for a piglet. Mike, “her close fisted husband”, disapproves of her “sinful waste of money” gambling, although being “born under a lucky star”, she always seems to win. Porkey comes home and there’s little danger he’ll wind up on the dinner table — he instantly wins Nora’s heart and becomes her beloved pet. Junior’s (Johnny Cahill) dog is evicted from his dog house to make way.
Mike and Junior have had quite enough and begin “building up a strong case against Porkey”, blaming him for eating all the deserts in the ice box and rolling the clean laundry in the mud (Junior, in fact, did both). Nora is irritated but unswayed by the conspiracy.
Nora’s luck wins her a fancy new hat, festooned with evidently real grape bunches. Junior accepts the delivery and amuses himself posing in front of the mirror wearing it. He drops it to the floor when he’s done, Porkey finds it, and helps himself to the grapes. That does it. Nora storms outside and returns with a hatchet, but before Porkey finds himself minus his head, Junior’s dog chases him out of the house and the picture. Just then two men enter, congratulating Nora for her latest win: another pig. Finding new use for the hatchet, she runs them off while menacing them with it.
I’ve collected a fair number of Kate Price Vitagraph shorts. This one is unusual because there’s no ethnic component. She’s usually very stereotypically Irish and speaks in dialect. I mean, take a film like Too Many Caseys: “Irish” is the entire joke. If you don’t find that especially funny, there’s not much else to laugh at. It probably would make She Took a Chance a lot more approachable to modern audiences.
My rating: I like it.
Coming up will be a film I’m particularly excited about. It’s a fairly early French drama — I’ll even make the hint a little easier and say it’s produced by Lux — about a love triangle between railroad engineers that results in a train wreck.
Oh, and in case anyone was worried, my medical debt has been completely resolved. The state will foot the bill — even for the helicopter ride.
In the past, I’ve briefly touched on 9.5mm home movie abridgments sometimes representing all that’s known to survive of a film and how these abridgments are by and large ignored. It was the policy of some archives until rather recently to dispose of all their holdings of a film if any part of it showed decomposition — it’s little wonder these abridgments that are, by nature, incomplete would be beneath notice.
Some films are represented in an even more slight degree. Expensive crowd scenes may have been cannibalized in the sound era for stock footage — a bit of The Battle Cry of Peace survives for that reason — or they may have been lampooned in shorts like the Fractured Flickers series. To the transitional generation, who lived through the talkie revolution, silents were not only old hat — they were embarrassments — things that were only suffered to exist that they might be mocked.
About two and a half minutes of The Dust of Egypt survives by way of The Movie Album, a 1931 Vitaphone short. The Movie Album wasn’t as entirely derisive of its subject material as Fractured Flickers — not entirely. The clip actually represents a few fragments as the excerpt snips out quite a bit of material within itself, but all are from the climax, just before the ‘it was all a dream’ reveal.
Geoffrey Lascelles (Antonio Moreno) has just proposed to Violet Manning (Naomi Childers) and she’s accepted. After a night of celebration, Geoffrey stumbles back home to sleep off his intoxication. Enter Simpson (Charles Brown), Professor Johnson’s assistant. The Professor is on a dig in Egypt and sends back a mummy, but the museum is closed and Simpson wants to leave it with Geoffrey until morning.
In his dreams, Geoffrey envisions Ameuset (Edith Storey), a princess of Egypt. She’s bored with life. Her magician, Ani (Edward Elkas), offers her a love potion that cannot fail, but the Princess demands something new. He instead presents a potion that will transmit her through time — thousands of years into the future — to an age entirely unlike their own. She’ll find love there, he promises, and kiss but once, for the second kiss will make her “as the dust of Egypt”.
Startled awake by a sound in the sitting room, Geoffrey goes to investigate. He finds the mummy quite alive and it is the very princess of his dreams. She at first believes he is a magician like her own Ani, in that he commands light at the flick of his finger, but she soon finds amusement with modern technology — the seltzer bottle, especially, entertains her to no end.
Afraid of what it would look like to be found alone with a strange woman late at night, Geoffrey does the first thing that comes to mind and calls the Mannings. Violet is put out. Geoffrey’s tale of five thousand year old Egyptian princesses does not strike her as terribly credible, and as he has no other explanation for Ameuset, she returns his ring.
Violet provokes a rather extreme degree of jealousy in Ameuset. Geoffrey might not love her, but she’s surely taken to him. Suddenly she recalls Ani’s love potion and dumps it in Geoffrey’s glass. True to the sorcerer’s word, Geoffrey at once falls passionately in love with the Egyptian princess. The second kiss — —
Benson (Jack Brawn), Geoffrey’s butler, startles his master. He’s sorry to wake him so early, but a gust of wind tipped over the sarcophagus (or “the blooming mummy case”). Geoffrey inspects it to find it contains nothing but a desiccated mummy quickly turning to dust.
I have so much fun with reconstructions. I didn’t do a full one with The Dust of Egypt partly because there’s so little surviving footage and partly because I was working from an extremely limited number of stills. Most came from the novelization in Motion Picture Magazine, a couple from trade magazines, and a couple more from lobby cards I have. They were just about enough to present the story in a condensed form not much more elaborate than the summary above — to provide context to the surviving fragments and not strive far beyond that.
I can’t in good conscience give a rating. I can hardly tell what sort of a film it was from two and a half minutes of footage and a handful of stills. As it reads, the plot is pretty well bog standard for a mummy come to life comedy, but a well tread plot doesn’t mean the film couldn’t have tread it well. I like Edith Storey — I’ll say that.
Available from Harpodeon.
I was so excited to finally obtain a copy of this rarity that I was running it not five minutes after opening the box and I’m writing this within the hour.
EYE thinks they have a brief fragment of it and you can see it online, but it’s misattributed. I don’t know what film that is, but only the title card at the start is from Bella Butts — the rest is something else. It doesn’t even look like a Vitagraph production. I don’t recognize any of the actors. It’s probably spliced-together projection booth clippings. When film got damaged and the projectionist needed to snip a bit out and make a splice, those clippings tended to wind up on the projection booth floor. Whenever they got around to it and swept up, they were collected together and may or may not have been saved. I’ve certainly got a box full. The clips might vary from only a few frames long to a couple of feet or more, if there was a length of sprocket-hole damage. There was a market for them. Companies like Pordell Projector bought them, cut them into individual frames, and sold them as slides. Movielets did the same. They were sold in random little collections stuffed in tins like Altoids — I’ve got several of those as well. You can play around with the clippings, find similar looking material, try to piece together some sort of narrative, but it’s all a tremendous amount of guesswork. I’ve put together what might be 30 second-ish fragment of Liberty, A Daughter of the USA (1916), but I can really only be sure that the two titles are from Liberty. The film sold by Pordell and Movielets is generally too far gone to salvage — the tins seal fairly air-tight and nitrate decomposes rapidly when it isn’t allowed to off-gas — but if you find loose projection booth floor sweepings, they’re usually fine.
That was a long digression. Anyway, I’ve just acquired a copy that, minus just a brief bit of no consequence at the start, is complete and really is The Smoking Out of Bella Butts.
Bella Butts (Flora Finch), anti-smoking campaigner, arrives in the town of Hicksville to spread the word. At the Ladies Aid Society, she proves how injurious smoking is by giving the women cigars — promptly causing dizziness, headaches, and nausea. Among the afflicted is the mayor’s wife (Betty Gray), who demands that her husband ban smoking or else she’ll divorce him.
His back to the wall, the mayor (Hugie Mack) complies. All the town’s tobacco products are seized and burned in a great bonfire. This does not win the mayor many friends among the menfolk, who soon start trying to smoke corn silk to feed their habits. When a cigar salesman (Jay Dwiggins) arrives, all the men — the mayor included — hide out in a basement to chain-smoke away his samples.
The woman of the house (it’s either Florence Radinoff or Edwina Robbins — hard to tell. That’s the drawback of the first minute or two being missing — there’s no cast list and you just have to recognize the actors) sees smoke pouring from the window and thinks it’s on fire. The fire department is called and start blasting water into the basement. Forced out by the deluge, the men are caught red-handed. Butts is on hand to demand the sheriff arrest the mayor. The mayor hands him a cigar and he forgets all his duties.
Butts gets her bag and “leaves Hicksville to its doom” while the mayor watches, smoking on the porch.
Flora Finch was most known for starring opposite John Bunny in more than a hundred “Bunnyfinches” — domestic sitcoms somewhat similar in style to those of Sidney Drew. Bunny shot his last film with Finch in 1914 before starting on a live stage tour that no one knew he would not return from. (The Jarrs Visit Arcadia was posthumously released in 1915.) Finch continued the act solo, to greater or lesser effect.
In terms of theme, Bella Butts is not unlike the Red Seal film I reviewed a thousand years ago, ‘Morning, Judge (1926), in which Flora Finch enacts a ban on a can-can dancing. ‘Morning, Judge even ended with bungling firefighters as well. But the difference is that Bella Butts wasn’t awful. The jokes are less bottom of the barrel slapstick, which helps, but mainly it’s because the plot was followed through to its conclusion and the filmmakers didn’t just abruptly drop storylines as they became inconvenient. Including the main storyline.
My rating: I like it. I may just postpone the next film I’d intended on scanning and scan Bella Butts instead.
I think I must have referenced Auntie’s Portrait at least two or three times when talking about other Sidney Drew films, but I’ve never spoken about it directly. I should rectify that.
Auntie’s Portrait is usually cast as a “rare” film, but for all it’s supposed rarity, I’ve got five prints of it. The old standard definition video was sourced from the best print I had at the time, which still wasn’t very good — a bit soft and more than a bit dark. The new high definition remaster comes from the last print I obtained, which is just all around gorgeous. I’m very happy to have it as Auntie’s Portrait is my favorite Drew short.
Mr. and Mrs. Honeypet (Sidney Drew and Jane Morrow) are newlyweds. They receive a gift from Mrs. Honeypet’s wealthy aunt Flora (Ethel Lee). They dig into the box eager to see what it contains only to find a hideous portrait of Auntie herself. The Honeypets are obviously middle class, but they’ve got pretensions and this picture would disgrace their carefully curated walls. Not expecting Auntie to visit anytime soon, they decide to worry about it later. In the meantime, the portrait is consigned to the attic.
The next day, who should drop by but Auntie Flora, every bit as harsh and mean-looking as her picture. And about that picture — no sooner does she take off her hat and coat than the lorgnette comes out and she begins scanning the walls for it. Mr. Honeypet retrieves the portrait from the attic and tries to quickly hang it, but they don’t have a big place — just a few rooms downstairs — and he keeps being interrupted by Auntie. It seems like all is lost when he drops the picture and the frame breaks, but then inspiration strikes and Mr. Honeypet rushes out the back door.
Auntie, having gone round the house several times, has determined that her portrait is nowhere to be found. “I shall leave this house and never return,” she tells her niece, “and I’ll leave you out of my will, too!” She’s almost out the door when Mr. Honeypet barges in. “We sent it away to have this beautiful frame put on it,” he explains, showing her the picture with a new, elaborate gilt frame. “We wanted to surprise you!”
I tend to bring up Auntie’s Portrait when talking about Drew films because I really consider it the gold standard of their formula: newlyweds that are pretentious social climbers and probably a bit insufferable to be around, but not so bad that you want to see them fail. It’s not too confining as formulas go and there’s a lot that can be mined from it. There’s nothing wacky about the Drews’ better domestic comedies. Their world is really only a slightly heightened version of our own. You probably know people in real life not too unlike the Honeypets.
My rating: I like it.
Available from Harpodeon
And now, unless you enjoy my continued ramblings about Amazon, you can stop reading and I’ll think nothing less of you for it.
Claire McDowell is an actress who suffers a nervous breakdown and is sent to the country to recover. She’s accompanied by her boyfriend, Alan Hale (no, not the Skipper — that’s Alan Hale, Jr. This is the Skipper’s dad.) At the farm are a couple of sweethearts, Vola Smith and Victor Rottman. Vola expects Victor to propose any day now, but the arrival of the rusticated actress turns his head and he all but forgets about Vola.
The two girls concoct a plan: Vola will pretend to start courting Alan, which will make Victor jealous and refocus his attention back where it belongs. Alan is against the idea but at last Claire convinces him to play along. The plan works all too well: Victor does become jealous of his new rival, but on Claire’s last day at the farm, she finds a note from Alan proclaiming that he has really fallen in love with Vola and that the two have decided to elope (and we now learn that Alan Hale’s character is apparently named Charlie, but never mind that).
I’ve referenced the fall of the pioneering studios several times in the past. Biograph was already in steep decline when Cupid Entangled was released. Eleven months later, production would be halted. They simply couldn’t compete in the new market. I actually did a double-take on the release date when I started writing this; in terms of film making technique, Cupid Entangled looks more like it should have been made in 1910 rather than 1915. It’s only five years, but pre-war films exist in a different world. The acting, as well, is primitive. The actors are on a single plane, are always facing forward, and they address the camera more so than they do each other. Everything is a medium shot — no wides, no close-ups. Even the exteriors feel claustrophobic. Still, it isn’t badly written. I don’t know who did the screenplay, but it’s a fine sitcom plot.
My rating: Meh.
I don’t know what the next video will be. I’m working on a long film now that will hopefully be ready for Halloween, but I imagine something else will be out before then.
Can it be? Is it really finished? It doesn’t seem possible. The new reconstruction of The Juggernaut is done.
This review will probably be shorter than you might have thought. I’ve already said pretty much all there is to say about the history of the film in my Juggernauting series, and I don’t have much to add about the adventure it was reconstructing it either. I’m very happy with how it turned out, as I said before. I find The Juggernaut to be a fascinating film — I’ve said that before, too — but I don’t think I’ve ever commented on whether or not it’s a good film.
Let’s put it in a more modern context: it reminds me of Titanic (1997). I went to see Titanic when it came out. Somewhere at around hour 35 of the screening, the person I was there with leaned over and asked me when the boat was going to sink. I think a lot of people were leaning over to their neighbor and asking when the train was going to wreck when they went to see The Juggernaut in 1915. Like the iceberg, audiences knew the wreck was coming. It was all over the advertisements — it’s what the film was sold on, it’s what they were there to see.
It takes a long time to get to the train wreck.
The first reel starts off strong. After a brief introduction to our characters — Mr. and Mrs. Ballard, farmers; their son John (Earle Williams), who dreams of becoming a lawyer; rich railroad magnate James Hardin (Frank Currier) and his ne’er-do-well son Philip (William R. Dunn) — we get right into some action. On their way to market, the elder Ballards are struck at a railroad crossing and killed. John sells the farm and enrolls in law school, where he meets Philip and becomes his friend, despite blaming his father for his parents’ death. Philip is given to dissipation, and rather than meet John for a study session as planned, he joins a poker game with a gang of sharpers. A fight breaks out when he discovers he’s being cheated. He would be killed by one of them if not for the timely arrival of John, who smashes a chair on the hooligan’s head. End of reel one.
As for reel two… and three… and four… well, we’ll say it doesn’t keep up the momentum. A less charitable viewer might use the word “padding” to describe everything that happens after the fight and before the wreck.
John apparently killed the menacing gambler. Philip swears he’ll never reveal the secret. John and Viola Ruskin (Anita Stewart) meet on graduation day and fall in love, but Viola’s mother (Julia Swayne Gordon) has the Hardin fortune in mind and forces her to marry Philip. Viola dies giving birth to Louise, John and Philip drift apart.
Twenty years later, John is the District Attorney and brings a suit against Philip’s railroad, which has only gotten worse since he’s inherited it. Philip would blackmail John into dropping the case by threatening to reveal the murder, but Louise (also played by Anita Stewart) spoils it all by giving evidence to John that proves it wasn’t him — the sharper got into another fight later that same day and was killed then. The trial proceeds, Philip phones Louise to bring him some documents from his home safe, her car breaks down and she’s force to take… dun-dun-dun… the train.
We’re in the fifth reel now and have come to what everyone is waiting for. The train is speeding toward a bridge Philip knows is unsafe to cross, but he doesn’t discover until too late that his daughter is on board. He races out of the office and tries to head-off the train and warn them of the danger ahead, but he’s not fast enough. The bridge collapses and the train goes tumbling into the water.
Then the film forks in a couple directions. John has rushed to the scene as well. At the film’s premiere screening, he swims out to the wreckage and pulls out Louise, but the Juggernaut has claimed its victim — Louise is dead. Others got one of two alternate endings that vary in detail, but both end with Louise recovering and John professing his love to her.
The Juggernaut was a popular film — it played for 750 days and made an obscene amount of money. It’s interesting to see, as time goes on, how the ads for it change. Earle Williams is the star in 1915. In 1917, Anita Stewart and Earle Williams are both top billed. In 1920, Anita Stewart is the star.
I must say, Anita Stewart gives the only decent performance. Earle Williams’s idea of emoting is to just spike the camera. The intensity of his emotion can be gauged by how long he holds eye contact with you — romantic, pathetic, tensive, it doesn’t matter, spike the camera. Now Julia Swayne Gordon, she is acting. My word, does she chew the scenery. The thing is, I’ve seen Gordon in other films and she’s nowhere near as hammy as she is here, even in her very early work. I’m sure she was directed to act like that. I’m sure even in the final take just as she’s about to devour the set whole, Ralph Ince is just off-camera yelling “BIGGER!” I will give credit where it’s due, the man knew how to block a scene. The scene where John overhears Viola and her mother arguing about Philip in particular, I though that was expertly arranged. He just couldn’t direct actors for beans.
We’ve come down to the rating. The Juggernaut is a fascinating film, and it does deliver the promised full-scale train wreck, and it is thrilling for two or three scenes, but is it a good film? No, not at all. Not one bit. But would I recommend it? The narrative is weak and the acting is horrid, but it’s less a movie than it is a spectacle. Go in with that mindset, don’t trouble yourself with paying too close attention to the middle bits, and you’ll love it as I love it.
My rating: I like it.
I think I’m going to take a few days off, but I’ll give you a hint as to what the next video will be. I needed part of Wanted:- A Nurse (1915) for The Juggernaut and it didn’t make any sense not to go ahead and scan all of it. So that’s waiting on the hard drive for whenever I care to get around to it, but that won’t be the next video out. We released an HD remaster of The Victoria Cross (1912) not too long ago. Coming up next will be another before-he-was-famous Wallace Reid film. One more hint, just as in The Victoria Cross, he also plays a lieutenant in this one.
Available from Harpodeon
I read the novel this film is based on a couple years ago. David Harum, the book, isn’t about David Harum. The main character is John Lenox and the story follows him as he struggles to get ahead in life, hoping to one day be wealthy enough to make a suitable husband for the rich Mary Blake. While traces of that are here in David Harum, the film, this David Harum very much is the focus of the story, with John fading quite into the background. I’ll say upfront, I don’t fault the film for that. Novels and movies are two different media, and what works in one may not work in the other. A faithful David Harum adaptation would be terribly dull, just by nature of how the book is written.
David Harum (William H. Crane) is a successful banker in the small town of Homeville, New York. His cashier, Chet Timson (Hal Clarendon), is a slimy fellow who thinks he’s a great deal more essential to the running of the bank than he actually is. It comes as quite a shock when he finds himself fired and a new man, John Lenox (Harold Lockwood), at his place behind the counter.
John is in Homeville following the suicide of his father, who had gotten himself into some particularly dire financial straits that have left John virtually penniless. All he has left is a worthless tract of wasteland, which he would sell but David has a hunch that it may turn out to be of some value.
Chet is involved in a counterfeiting operation. He had been taking the counterfeit bills from some nefarious character and exchanging them for real currency at the bank. Now it seems to have caught up with him and the Feds are in town investigating. Chet is sweet on the schoolmarm, Mary Blake (May Allison), who plainly favors John over him. Seeing a chance to kill two birds with one stone, he plants the counterfeits on John and alerts the authorities.
John is arrested, but David suspects a set-up. He finds the other man involved in the counterfeiting plot and forces him to confess. Unmasked, Chet finds himself persona non grata and the whole town gathers to ride him out on a rail. Incidentally, the engineering report that David had been waiting for finally arrives: that wasteland of John’s sits atop an enormous oil reserve worth untold fortunes.
It’s quite a departure from the novel’s plot. The counterfeiting operation, the federal investigation, the love triangle, Mary being a teacher (or even being in Homeville at all) — those are all inventions of the film. There were some counterfeit bills in the book, but they weren’t even a subplot, much less the central conflict. They were just a minor incident in John’s apprenticeship — David testing his integrity. No, if you were expecting to see the book put to screen, you’d come away from David Harum disappointed. Taken on its own, however, David Harum is an enjoyable film. The story holds together and doesn’t drag, with a good mix of exciting and tender moments and occasional comic relief, but even disregarding that, you have to commend the film for its faultless cinematography. I especially liked the tracking shots that take you down the street to the bank — you get a good feel for Homeville, both as it’s physically arranged and, more abstractly, the way that it all converges on David Harum.
Side note, we can be pretty sure that filming wrapped by May 7th, 1915 at the latest, since the ship they’re on is the Lusitania.
My rating: I like it.
Available from Televista. I’d usually link directly to the distributor’s website, but I just can’t get it to work, so have an Amazon link instead.
Lionel Strongheart (Tom Mix) is out on a hunting vacation in the hills. He stumbles across a couple of moonshiners — Joe and Jeff — who shoot him. When they discover he’s just a hapless tourist, they take him back to their cabin where Nellie nurses him to health. Nellie is Joe’s daughter and Jeff is in love with her, although she turns down his marriage proposal. Joe promises to plead his partner’s case, but that’s sidetracked when Sheriff Jim comes with a warrant for Jeff’s arrest. Meanwhile, Nellie and Lionel have fallen in love and decide to marry.
There’s something about this film that doesn’t sit right with me. Several things, actually: it doesn’t look or play like the sort of films Tom Mix was making at Selig in 1915; I can find no release notices for a Selig film by the name “Man Hunt” — not in that year or at any other date — nor any newspaper ads or reviews; it looks most natural at around 22fps and not the 16-18fps Selig films usually run at; Mix looks noticeably older than he does in, say, Sage Brush Tom (1915), which I happened to watch immediately before running The Man Hunt; and the plot is awfully intricate for the film’s run time, and it strikes me as an abridgement of a longer work.
What I have is a 16mm print released by Castle Films — I’m not sure when, but the edge code of the film stock dates it to 1964. The titles are replacements. It names Tom Mix (and him alone), but it doesn’t suggest that it’s a Selig production or that it was originally released in 1915. The only place I can find making those claims is IMDb, and IMDb is… not exactly the most reliable resource.
I don’t think it is a 1915 Selig one-reeler. I think it’s probably a cut-down of one of Mix’s later Fox releases, either feature length or at least two or three reels long, and that “The Man Hunt” is simply the title Castle assigned it and not what it was originally called. Now I could be wrong, but that’s my impression. With that said, I can’t really criticize the film’s abruptness, pacing issues, or its weak character development — as what’s here may not be representative of what might have been intended.
So what can I say? Well, I can say that none of the cast is acting with even the slightest conviction. It’s good that the film tells us that Jeff is in love with Nellie, or that Nellie doesn’t care for the man, or that her father inexplicably does — because none of that comes across otherwise. The titular manhunt, which is introduced dramatically with “THE MAN HUNT IS ON!”, is an oddly sedate affair. The sheriff and I suppose deputy ride slowly up to the still and simply slip the handcuffs on Jeff without any real struggle or urgency and the film just fizzles out afterward. Father’s involvement with the moonshining operation seems to be forgotten, as does the attempted murder.
What’s here isn’t good, and I can’t imagine what isn’t here was very good either. In short…
My rating: I don’t like it.
Another splendid jungle adventure from our old pal Colonel Selig.
Charles Clancy (Earle Foxe), a representative of the Great American Circus, is in Africa trapping exotic animals — mostly large cats, but also a zebra, a rhino, and an elephant. He meets John Gladding (Fred Hearn), a trader who lives in the jungle with his daughter Kate (Vivian Reed). John is sick with the plague. Charles offers to stay with them, but John insists that his daughter will see him through.
The very instant that Charles leaves, John dies. The native servants, evidently frightened by the plague (and I don’t see why they shouldn’t be), refuse to stay in the cabin and all but one flee. Kate is left alone with Wamba (Walter Beckwith). She sends him out with a message to Charles.
The very instant that Wamba leaves, a lion pounces on him and he’s killed. Unlike in The Last Man (1924), where the menacing puma was just a dummy, a very real lion jumps on the stunt man here and falls on top of him when they hit the ground. This is happening literally steps from the door, but Kate doesn’t seem to hear it. She’s in the cabin with a couple of tame leopards. She’s holding a stick and doing some kind of circus act with them while her father’s corpse is presumably in the corner of the room… you know, this is a really weird scene. Anyway, she evidently decides that she needs some air.
The very instant that Kate leaves, a growling tiger rushes for her. She runs back inside. The tiger paces in front of the door. She reaches for the pistol at her hip, but that won’t do. She instead takes an elephant gun from the wall and loads a cartridge. She shoots through the window, but I guess she was aiming at the lion? I don’t know, but the tiger doesn’t care and I guess she doesn’t have any more bullets. She opens the door and commands the leopards to attack… and they do. They kill the tiger (or rather, they roll around with a tiger puppet for a while) and Kate calls them back inside.
A year passes. Charles is back in the jungle, or maybe he never left, but at any rate he finds the sun-bleached skeleton of Wamba, and on that faithful lost messenger, he finds Kate’s cry for help. He rushes to the cabin but it’s not so much a rescue as Kate and her leopards seem to be perfectly fine. Back at the boat (there’s a boat evidently), someone named Tom writes to Charles that they’re ready to leave and he’d better come aboard. Charles writes back that he’s staying with his new wife.
The story is nutty and I love it. I expected that, but what I wasn’t expecting was how well shot the film is. It looks much, much better than it has any right to, with some creative framing, well-timed cuts, and appropriate reaction inserts. I think that the legitimately good cinematography coupled with the supremely kitschy storyline really elevates the film to something special. It’s different from The Last Man, which really only works on a so bad it’s good level. This is an unusual but entertaining mix of good-bad meets good-good.
My rating: I like it.
Bob (Harry Benham) is a college boy who’s “squandered [his] fortune”. He goes to his guardian (Riley Chamberlin) in search of fresh funds. Mr. Southwick is a businessman of some sort and it’s quite plain that he has little faith in his charge’s financial acumen. All the same, he makes Bob the offer that he’ll give him a position next week with a salary equal to whatever money he can make elsewhere this week.
Southwick’s stenographer, Betty (Mignon Anderson), is sweet on Bob and lets him in on a secret: although Mr. Southwick is the boss of the company, Mrs. Southwick (Ethel Stevens) is the boss of the money. She’s just come in to draw $500 for beauty treatments to recover her “youthful charm”.
Bob poses as Madame Blanche the Beauty Doctor and launches a targeted ad campaign (targeted at Mrs. Southwick, that is) promising to make any woman look younger than her daughter and claiming to be endorsed by all the crowned heads of Europe. When Mrs. Southwick arrives at Madame Blanche’s parlor, another client is ahead of her in line. She watches the ancient looking woman step behind the curtain. Out of view, Betty takes off the wig and old-age makeup. When Mrs. Southwick sees her again, she looks 40 years younger. Once it’s her turn, Mrs. Southwick readily consents to Madame Blanche’s fee.
Next week, Bob returns to the office and tells Mr. Southwick that he’s ready to take the job for $500 a week.
I first saw Madame Blanche, Beauty Doctor (1915) theatrically at a film festival, and although it was over a decade ago, I remember it being a very light 35mm print — light to the point that the image was so blown out that it was barely possible to discern what was going on. The Thanhouser video, though looking like a VHS transfer, is a great improvement quality-wise. This time around, I found the cinematography to be quite impressive for a 1915 short comedy. It effectively mixes medium shots with close-ups and makes good use of shallow focus for the inserts that draw the eye to the intended subject. I particularly liked how the waiting room scene was handled: Mrs. Southwick needs to be present, and the audience needs to see Betty colluding with Bob, but Mrs. Southwick shouldn’t see Betty until after the “treatment” is finished. To fulfill all three requirements without resorting to a stagey-looking aside, the scene is shot with Mrs. Southwick sitting in front of a mirror. She’s looking in a different direction, but from our angle, we see Betty and Bob.
As far as the actors go, I wasn’t feeling Harry Benham in the role of Madame Blanche. Benham can’t pull off being a woman, and further, he can’t pull off being young (if IMDb is to be believed, the guy was only 31, but it’s a hard 31). Mrs. Southwick would have to be blind to fall for the disguise. I also didn’t care for his constant mugging for the camera, especially when compared to the much more subdued performances turned in by the rest of the cast.
On the whole, though, I enjoyed the film and would recommend it.
My rating: I like it.
Available from Thanhouser