Thursday 29 October 2020

THE GARBO SILENTS

Martin Slidel’s reviews of Greta Garbo’s silent movies.
With an original poem commissioned from Brighton-based playwright Yassin Zelestine. 

Gerda Lundequist and Greta Garbo

THE STORY OF GOSTA BERLING (1924)
«««««
AB Svensk Filmindustri / Dir. Mauritz Stiller

The Swedish Film Institute 1975 restoration is a beautiful print. It is perfectly matched with Matti Bye’s 2008 score in the folk tradition, exquisite and jaunty in turn. The film in its entirety lasts three hours although it is pleasingly split into two equal parts. Lars Hanson who like Garbo also made the transition to Hollywood (where he would again star with her) is a charismatic lead, and part of an exceptionally strong cast. The film is extremely well edited, excellently paced, with carefully placed touches of humour to balance its pathos. 

The ‘story’ concerns the trials of an unfortunate preacher afflicted by booze. A sorry but poignant tale with a layered narrative mirrored in its stunning visual representation. Berling, thrown out of church, stumbles upon a new role as tutor to a clan of compromised aristos whose matriarch plots his union with her daughter. Her goal, to deflect the inheritance to her ill-gotten son Henrik. It is quite something to see Garbo, as Henrik’s Italian wife, in her first major film role. Stiller and she cast their spell and weave the viewer, like the intertwining plotlines, in. The fracas comes when the daughter discovers who and what is behind it all. Garbo’s performance is that of a pro. Equally so, Lars Hanson whose despair, when down on his luck once more, is heart-breaking. An initially slower and more reflective phase is led by the phenomenal Gerda Lundequist who rebuffs Gösta with her own tale of woe. A tumultuous dinner party in which the mayor turns out his wife (Lundequist) is riotous and ultimately soul-destroying.

It is remarkable how Stiller has mastered the art of motion image in its infancy. A pity, then, that he did not survive Hollywood. Any melodrama in this masterpiece is played-out minus the sentimentality ingrained in Tinsel Town. Part Two follows the immediate fates of the victims, sorrowful but poetic and aesthetically rich. The visual storytelling remains incredibly strong. It is slowly cranked-up to a fiery terror amid the snow. And from fire to ice… Garbo, in quiet panic, driven at speed across a frozen lake, no ‘silence’ in her dramatic range. The second half seems to speed by indeed. This never feels like the three-hour epic it is. Not in terms of entertainment value, too often lost these days. Part Two makes a satisfying conclusion not as a separate film but as part of a whole. Following darkness there is hope and renewal, making way for a refreshingly happy ending. It befits a wonderful film which more than merits it.




THE JOYLESS STREET (1925)
««««
Sofar-Film / Dir. G W Pabst

Set in a depressive pocket of post-WWI Vienna, ‘The Joyless Street’ makes contrast with the wealthier social stratum as a parable of the divisions between rich and poor. Joyless it certainly is. Quite different in tone from ‘Gösta Berling’. Garbo is different too – shedding her slight teenage dumpiness, now every inch the star, albeit in a less-than-glamourous role. When life recedes to its lowest ebb, a twist of fate marks a crossover between the two worlds. And, in its hour-long version, it is a tale which seems to simplify and refine itself towards its end. As much as two people able to connect are, in so doing, also able to resolve something of the trials of life.

The sadly common 60-minute edit is the outcome of different versions cobbled-together over the decades. Due the censors whose initial cuts were bloodier than any on (or off) screen. The challenge now is to view the original, fuller, if sorrier tale – wholly lacking from a scant hour. It was restored some seventy years later to a 150-minute running time. Of which, there are tantalising glimpses on YouTube. These alone add literal and emotional colour, depth and clarity. As joyless as times are in 2020, you will need a spare £30 to get your hands on the DVD via Edition Film Museum. (Maybe, like Greta, once I get a job...) It seems potent: the cost of art mirroring the ethos of Pabst’s intent. Not affording Garbo and Pabst the freer recognition so richly deserved. 




TORRENT (1926)
«««
MGM / Dir. Monta Bell 

‘Torrent’ is Garbo’s first Hollywood film in which she appears slightly different again. If anything, with a noticeably healthier glow befitting her role as the Spanish farm girl Leonora. She pulls it off, owing (and owning) its silence. The part surprisingly suits her. It in turn demonstrates her versatility, as does the evolution of the role within the film. Being Hollywood, there is a noticeably improved level of production alongside an effective rationale to entertain. This is supported by a strong narrative, very competently directed by Monta Bell. The screenplay by Dorothy Farnum is based on Ibáñez’ novel minus the definitive article. The adaptation leans towards a generic big-studio melodrama, reliant upon recognisable and somewhat hackneyed themes of class divide and maternal interference.

From humble roots, Leonora rather astonishingly finds fame and fortune in Paris. Slipping effortlessly into dripping glamour and relishing it. On returning home, she faces down her former beau (a subtle and convincing portrayal by Ricardo Cortez). It is perfectly timed for the raging titular torrent metaphoric of the overpouring of inner ardour. The special effects are superb. These burst through the confines of the era, remaining legitimately contemporary as does – as ever – Garbo herself. Alack, the homely love of youth is not to be. No thanks to the shrewish matriarch, played in glorious appalling-ness by the excellent Martha Mattox. Rejected once more, Leonora makes tracks to the alternate world she has made her own. 

Arthur Barrow’s narrative musical score is commendable. Again, a great film, honest and poignant. As good as Garbo’s previous efforts but in a quite different manner. Nearly four stars! I already feel stingy. For, through the lens of a century past, it remains obviously apparent why it was such a huge hit.




THE TEMPTRESS (1926)
«««½
MGM / Dir. Fred Niblo

Her second Hollywood film and top billing already. But at what cost. A wise face in a juvenile role, a mystery in itself. However, the lavish production is a feast for the eyes. The leading lady sparkles opposite the charismatic and personable Antonio Moreno. A clear print benefits from a terrific score by Michael Picton. The opening masquerade is a joy, poetry onscreen, the editing imaginative and artistic. Its exquisite cinematography (typically William Daniels but coupled with Tony Gaudio) includes intriguing shots of Paris in the 1920s. However, the plot, though involving enough, threads themes of tangential experience extrapolated at a distance of light years. It is high-octane Soap.

A dramatic dinner party with its characterisation of legs beneath the table is outstanding. The entire film is expertly choreographed: each actor’s movement, their placement onscreen, the mime and gesture of the central figures and all those around them. Worth watching as an example of the best craft-person-ship on offer by Old Hollywood. Its former art: silent film far from silent. A transfer of action to ‘The Argentine’ is apt excitement in itself, lent gravitas by the ever-wonderful Lionel Barrymore. There Greta/Elena predictably attracts the worst kind of attention.

By its latter half, it does seem to lose the plot altogether – if ever there was one. Various suitors, sometimes en masse, squabble over Elena or die like her spouse at her overly polished heels. Another dam break, another ominous storm, another Ibáñez adaptation by Farnum. It is easy to envisage Mauritz Stiller’s thunderous fury at the studio. His successor Fred Niblo did a worthy job on this notable and enjoyable epic, more dazzling than ‘Torrent’ if not as affecting. Again, even via an historic mist it is clear to perceive its box office success. Suitably tragic closing scenes mark Garbo’s return to Paris years later where she depicts, in stark contrast, a drunken down-and-out. She alone claims the poignant, memorable, and provocative ending. 




FLESH AND THE DEVIL (1926)
««««
MGM / Dir. Clarence Brown 

A top-billing John Gilbert flick and rightly so, alongside the superb Lars Hanson. On one level, yes, another melodrama… albeit expertly executed and infused with realism and wit. Like its processor, beautifully shot and choreographed, a treat for the eyes. The fabulous 1988 score by Carl Davis, uncompromisingly thematic, is its perfect match. I had the pleasure of seeing him introduce the film at the BFI some thirty years ago. The film is, pleasingly, better than I remember. Gilbert appears every inch as attractive as his leading lady, and you find yourself needing to believe that their off-screen romance was real.

Brown manages with masterful ease to cut through the schmaltz, same as Garbo. William Daniel’s stunning camerawork cements it. Greta appears more astonishingly beautiful than ever. Despite of or because of her slightly wide shoulders (which I am so envious of) and her slightly heavy nose. It only seems to complement the ungainliness of youth, of which there is something innately appealing. She hasn’t completely learned to carry-off an already defining uniqueness. Impossible to accept how any sentient being could not fall instantaneously in love with her.

The film captures the lost days of first love, precious both in the history of cinema and of human experience. Barbara Kent’s portrayal of Hertha is very moving; you cannot help but be touched by her puppy love for Leo (Gilbert’s central role). These are top-notch performances. Eugenie Besserer, as Leo’s mother, offers a genuinely affectionate portrayal. George Fawcett as the beer-addled pastor is a delight. Brown wrings every last drop of emotion from the tale, and you don’t notice until it hits the floor. Unlike ‘The Temptress’ this keeps you gripped throughout, to its dark and bitter close.



‘Garbo Dans Ma Chambre’ by Yassin Zelestine, set as text art by Martin



LOVE (1927)
«««
MGM / Dir. Edmund Goulding

Garbo’s hopes of serious fare were marred by the studio’s decision to change the ending of Tolstoy. This provided an alternative ‘happy ending’ for American audiences whilst Anna’s fate remained a mystery in the original edit (possibly the better option). Another alternative for the European market granted her fatalism. I have only seen the happy’ version and feel unhappier for it. A rightful adaptation for its times? Why not, to keep an audience satisfied, it is all fiction to begin. Gilbo are quite the pair and it is easy to imagine the fans whipped into a frenzy, in the days of silver-screen idols enshrined in cinematic palaces. Likewise, the studio used the title to capitalise upon their supposed romance, with the publicity reading ‘Gilbert and Garbo in Love’. However, in bumping-off Karenin instead of Anna, to reunite the lovers in the very final shot, a classic is butchered.

I was lucky enough to see Arnold Brostoff introduce and conduct his orchestral score at The Barbican in London, in the early 1990s. His music offers affecting, gentle and sensitive motifs. A pity that the current print runs alongside a live recording, as you can hear the idiots in the audience retching their guts up throughout.

Easily noted, that Garbo has reached a new level of maturity and ease. Confident, calm, and stunning in every sense. Despite all, it is a more substantial platform for a nuanced performance captured as beautifully as ever by Daniels. English thespian Brandon Hurst is excellent as Karenin, his cold sternness in dichotomy with his wife’s passion. George Fawcett, terrific as the Grand Duke, quickly establishes a lively if silent repartee with Vronsky. The film has a definite lustre. Particularly touching are the scenes with Philippe De Lacy as the Karenins’ son. Though not destined for motherhood (or indeed love) in real life, Greta’s portrayal as a mother is affectionate and absorbing. As a dress rehearsal for greater things, for her unsurpassed 1935 talkie version, this first effort cannot be regretted.




THE MYSTERIOUS LADY (1928)
««««
MGM / Dir. Fred Niblo

In ‘The Mysterious Lady’, Garbo appears, in progression, more beautiful than ever. I feel as if I have written that before. She is astonishingly contemporary and, as with all classics, timeless. This is regardless that she finds herself playing another of MGM’s “bad womens” embroiled in another affair guaranteed to sour. This time, due the revelation that she is, no less, a Russian spy. And blindingly good she is at it. This is Very Hollywood and extremely far removed from her early European films: now trapped in the bubble of superstardom, every trapping of which she would forever be in denial of. 


Forgivably, though, this is stirring stuff; its visual narrative quite wonderous. Conrad Nagel, as the lover ageing alongside the arc of his fate, plays his part to perfection. Prison scenes in which he depicts a degraded officer’s torment are particularly affecting. The production maintains our attention, as does 
the fullness of character to which Garbo and Nagel are able to commit. Near close comes a cleverly played (and filmed) tension, descending, like the sweep of Greta on the sweeping stairs, towards something Hitchcockian. Death spliced with shots of Cossacks, alongside Garbo’s measure of realism, sparks brilliance.

The original film ran alongside music with sound effects, so that it was never purely ‘silent’. I viewed a version with a top-drawer score by Vivek Maddala which made for a highly enjoyable experience. It does ‘underscore’ that ‘Mata Hari’ has a ‘silent’ soundtrack being dialogue only. Its lack of score, to my mind, forever lacking. ‘The Mysterious Lady’ belies the simplicity of its title. It is, like ‘Love’ a bit of a run-through for its successor. However, of Garbo’s two spy films, it definitely has the edge.




A WOMAN OF AFFAIRS (1928)
«««
MGM / Dir. Clarence Brown

‘A Woman of Affairs’ was another huge hit for MGM. Its screenplay by Michael Arlen and Bess Meredyth is based on Arlen’s book ‘The Green Hat’ if significantly compromised to appease the censors. The studio again capitalised upon the Garbo-Gilbert coupling as the main leads of Diana and Neville. What initially appears as a fairly average love triangle is knocked out of kilter half an hour in, with the suicide of Diana’s husband. Garbo retains a magical ability to quietly dominate the scene as the grieving widow; her emotional control superb. Everything is laid bare and yet never overplayed. Thus rescued from borderline schmaltz, at times with near-devastating effect.

Proceedings do though, at stages, dip close to melodrama if of the more scandalous brand. Again saved by the mere presence of Garbo plus the emotional lynchpin of the great Lewis Stone. There comes another tragedy with the death of Diana’s brother, a desperate and agitated alcoholic very effectively played by an eighteen-year-old Douglas Fairbanks Jr. It is enough to land Diana in a nursing home. Here, affecting scenes are played-out with underlying desperation by a skilled quartet including the sensitive Dorothy Sebastian. I last viewed a print sadly depleted in sections, held together by William Axt’s original and attractive music. I also enjoyed a London screening with Carl Davis memorable 1984 score.




WILD ORCHIDS (1929)
«««
MGM / Dir. Sidney Franklin

Garbo offers an innocence to the character of Lillie. Despite or because of lavish locations the film meanders along, often diminishing to travelogue. You question why Garbo gave herself up so entirely to Hollywood, instead of returning home to weightier concerns. Granted, though, scenes of her flirting with herself in Javanese costume, prior the approaching shadow of Nils Aster’s prince, are quite something. Harder these days to accord sympathy to the privileged white elite, indulging in a tiger hunt and bossing-about indigenous servants, however appealing the coupling of Greta and Lewis Stone. 

It is a good enough film, with a good enough script by John Colton. The original score or ‘musical synchronisation’ by William Axt with its layered sound effects lends itself well to the visual narrative. But one finds oneself, in spite of oneself, yearning for the grit and drama of ‘The Temptress’. In its time it garnered favourable reviews and why not, with the star at the height of her power and influence. But time like stars fade. It now feels slightly over-drawn. A remaster and re-edit could offer something more deserving of its meritable qualities remaining. And yet... of all of the Garbo silents it, for some mysterious reason (perhaps as mysteriousness as its star) remains one of the most memorable.




THE SINGLE STANDARD
 (1929)
«««
MGM / Dir. John S Robertson

A second film with fellow Swede Nils Asther proves livelier fare than the first and a box office smash to boot. Again, different in tone. And, again, though Garbo is the centre of the eternal love triangle she pulls it off brilliantly. It does slip, however, into the by-now-familiar routine of The Divine One elevating (an above-average) melodrama light years beyond its origin. However, this feisty pre-Feminist parable, skilfully adapted by Josephine Lovett from the novel by Adela Rogers St. Johns, offers something a little different. Together with tantalising glimpses of the vestige of 1920s architecture and fashion. Unlike ‘Wild Orchids’ it is consistently well-paced with rarely a dull moment; John S Robertson makes fine work of direction. Johnny Mack Brown is perfect as the devoted husband. Whilst Asther, on return as the lovelorn lover, develops a more sensitive portrayal than before – ‘The Male Garbo’ as effective as his counterpart. Missing though, the poetry of Daniel’s camerawork if no criticism of Oliver T Marsh.




THE KISS (1929)
««««
MGM / Dir. Jacques Feyder

Another albeit above-par melodrama would be tedious if not for its speedy metamorphosis to a mystery-romance demi-thriller. A welcome return to Daniels on camera falls under the expert direction of Jacques Feyder (who went on to direct the outstanding German-language version of ‘Anna Christie’) and is further complimented by the stunning Art Deco sets of Cedric Gibbons. Not to mention the ultimate architectural feature of Garbo’s face.

A fine ensemble features Conrad Nagel and Lew Ayers. But Greta steals the show. Others appear as bit-part actors around her. Of course, it works. Sensationally so. The picture represents the height of the craft of the silents, the final effort of MGM and its greatest star. Never overdrawn, at an hour’s duration, it is pacey and entertaining. Just when the final court scenes seem to drag, there comes another startling flashback. ‘Garbo Smiles’ as the chapter closes with refreshing whimsy. A smash hit, both relieving and agonising for the studio.



These reviews do not include the 1928 film ‘The Divine Woman’ which was lost in the 1965 MGM vault fire.



GARBO DANS MA CHAMBRE

Azure dreamtime
In a ruptured evening
Go-to-bed / Make-up on
Like ‘Greta Garbo’ I drift drift…
Somnambulant ocean…

Snap! Acute Awake Alert
A white silhouette
At the edge of the bed
Some spectre goes there
Beware beware
A familiar visage / Regardez
La mademoiselle, white-veiled
Queen of Subterranea

Voile in layer’d transparence
Her stare fixed at me
Cannot move a muscle until
Lifted at last:
“With wisdom to impart
‘I put on my mask
‘Took life by instinct.
‘You must not be afraid
‘To do the same…”

Before I could answer her
She vanished:
Half Mata Hari / Half curious cat
Spun woven dreams into corporeality
I walked to the window
The night irresistible
Violet intoxication
My blood fecund, alive
Fixed myself up in a vintage look

She did not intend to be alone
But let alone / To chase shadows
And exits of alleyways
As well as the tread of the carpet, red
She didn’t look back / Neither shall I
Toute de suite!
Around the next corner I meet
Sid Vicious singing
“I did it my way…”

Spirit of the present
Phantom of the future
The dead are not threat
It’s the living to watch out for!
Fare thee well
The night remains ours, as
‘I put on my mask…’

TO NEW BEGINNINGS!
MAY THEY NEVER END!



– Yassin Zelestine