Lightning Sketches #1
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| Quick-Draw J. Stuart Blackton Demonstrates His Art |
Speedy and Shorter and Welcome, AI
Pioneer filmmaker J. Stuart Blackton got a start in vaudeville doing what was called “lightning sketches,” artist and easel on stage to astonish watchers by how fast he could draw. Stuart sped so at the game that he took up cartooning, which made switch to movies a cinch. This was pre-teens when everything in that business amounted to history being made. Lightning sketching is sort of what Greenbriar proposes here, a cousin to quickie cartooning before, and a way to jam more topics into posts under these new umbrellas. First off I confess to willing enslavement by AI, that innovation arrived at artistic place no longer to be ignored or dismissed. We’ve lived so long with black-and-white images to shun whatever proposes to assume its place. AI is not “colorization” to my eyes, being instead a reality we knew was there, at least once there, and now comes recapture. Yes, it feels to me like standing in front of those theatres. I tend to take years embracing new technology, having ignored VHS except for novelty or last-resort, like when Captain Blood showed up complete on cassette in 1986, a first time ever we could enjoy 119 minutes rather than 99. Still there was no giving up 16mm for the rest … until the rest became DVD and death of analog, the Night Film Ended as recalled previous at Greenbriar. I’m giddy each time I color convert an image till now monochrome. Think of AI as ideal way lobby cards looked where artfully tinted from the twenties forward. We’ve now passed that to a highest point knowable, not by way of process slowly got at, but gratification had instant, push-button the door to paradise. Do I somehow settle for less, joining philistines who would wreck our culture? If so, consider me and mine wrecked, and welcome to AI arrived at apex.
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| I'll Never Regard a Black-and-White Marquee Online Again, Now That I Can "Fix It" |
Latest from Lubitsch --- This was news alright, the second teaming of Maurice Chevalier with director Ernst Lubitsch. The Smiling Lieutenant was made particularly for an urban carriage trade. They wanted what mid-staters did not, so money had to come from bookings in the largest and perceived most sophisticated bergs. How to best and quickest get it was answered by roadshowing, twice daily shows at advanced prices. Here was asking a lot in May 1931, Depression teeth sunk in and admissions far harder come by. The Criterion bespoke home for the best, generally from Paramount, Wings having landed there for 63 weeks, The Love Parade soon after which suggested hard ticket possibilities for Chevalier-Lubitsch output. Two dollars was price for the ducats. To stand outside and regard a lavishly decorated front would alone have been worth that to me. The Smiling Lieutenant stayed fourteen weeks at the Criterion, a throughout-the-summer hit (An American Tragedy would follow with a late August opening). The Criterion seated 900, “a relatively intimate size,” said trade observers, especially by palaces up Broadway like the Loew’s State that could accommodate 3,000+. We could wonder how much negative cost was earned back for this single engagement, not forgetting theatre overhead always aspect of such an event.
Depth But Barely Dreamed Of --- My Blu-Ray of the 3-D Money From Home arrived a few days early, so here's rave all round for this summit of 3-D Archive artistry. Masterminds Bob Furmanek, Greg Kintz, and Jack Theakston have done it again, and that says plenty considering fabulous work they’ve done on previous depth releases. Let me go ahead and declare it: Money From Home is the best 3-D restoration I have so far seen, the expert triumvirate having spent several years to get things right, and with Paramount’s full cooperation, they sure did. Jack says in an extra that elements they used filled a room. Remember this was three-strip Technicolor which meant three strips of everything at 100 minute total, plus 3-D meaning multiple miles more of film to finesse. If not for this team, who on earth could have had enough patience, let alone expertise, to get such massive work done? I ducked Money From Home all these years thinking someday maybe it’ll show up on 3-D, grateful now for the wait as here’s an M&L to rank among favorite of theirs. Color also is astounding, Paramount truly on visual parade. We are privileged by receipt of Money From Home in 3-D considering a distinct minority of patrons saw it that way in 1953-54, that story told in 2014 at Greenbriar. Be sure also to consult the 3-D Archive's extensive production history of Money From Home here.
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| A Book Filled with Revelation, Typical of William M. Drew. |
Final Straw --- There ought be a book by that title, when and what was moment when stars or others of movie hire got their fill and pushed away from the buffet for good. One that notably did was Billie Dove, at exotic left, who excelled doing Blondie of the Follies, then found herself dealt out by editing and service (at Billie’s expense) to first-billed star that was Marion Davies. Billie said “I’ve had mine” and quit movies cold. She tells that story and plenty more in William M. Drew’s At the Center of the Frame, a dazzling compendium of chats the author had with leading ladies of the twenties and thirties, published in 1999. Festooned with arresting stills, this volume and Drew’s companion book, Speaking of Silents, also made up of star interviews, are must-haves for anyone curious as to great female leads of past times and what became of them. Talks are detailed enough to get the essence of these personalities and depths they plumbed looking back. They’ll not be more books like Drew’s because there are no veterans left to testify so forcefully as here. I’m just thankful Drew went the mile(s) to get it all down when he did and present the lot in print.
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| Blood and Sand By Coincidence? No, Anthony Slide Did the Blu-Ray's Audio Commentary, and It's Excellent |
THE SILENT PICTURE --- Another who blazed history’s trail and still doing same was/is Anthony Slide, who edited/published “The Silent Picture,” a Brit publication from the late sixties/early seventies that lasted nineteen issues and had, among other things, breathtaking sit-downs with stars not approached by others, at least not successfully, but Slide always had a way with folk not so accessible to plain press and curiosity seekers. I had a pile of past issues gotten at shows but lately figured to fill in missing ones via eBay, thus recent grab of one where Slide spoke with Bebe Daniels for what had to be her final interview, husband Ben Lyon also present and commenting. I really like how “The Silent Picture” had ongoing commentary on attitudes toward silent film and the struggle to make audiences appreciate the era again. To think these were published while I was still in high school, Anthony Slide to this day active as ever and frequently showing up to audio-commentate for silent movies released on Blu-Ray. Nobody knows this stuff like him.
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| Unknown To Me Till You Tube Host Jake Reed Dredged It Up ... Bravo to Him! |
BLANCHE IS BACK and YOU TUBE HAS HER --- Never mind treks to museums and archives. I’m for sitting home and letting YT discoveries wash over me, especially where talkless favorites Blanche Sweet and Bebe Daniels venture into sound and such rarities unseen by me turn up on exemplary quality formats free for the viewing. Are we sailing upon digital magic carpets or what? YT provider Jake Reed lately added Blanche in The Woman Racket to his upload inventory, and it’s a 1930 creampuff, done by MGM, in fact Sweet’s first with dialogue, her a better Ruth Chatterton than Ruth Chatterton for my money. What a shame silent stars were being bum-rushed out sound stage doors, for Sweet had the goods as ever, age (34) setting stage for character work to come, but where to shine with so little studio opportunity tendered? She’d go east and do legit (in, among things, The Petrified Forest), then television, finally becoming senior spokeswoman for age of innocence few were left to tell of and yes, she spoke extensively with Anthony Slide and William M. Drew.
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| Seen This is Your Life, Bebe Daniels on You Tube? It's a Treat |
Bebe Does Song --- I toot my grateful horn not for archives that hoard, but for home archivists that share, like the Vitaphone Sound Project, whose work of late has been astonishing. They uploaded last week a 1930 musical from Radio Pictures called Love Comes Along, starring Bebe Daniels, Lloyd Hughes, and Montague Love. All Talk, All Music says the lobby card, as would others through avalanche of tunes till the format ran dry in 1931. Love Comes Along was of sort that might slither to surface on AMC back in eighties day, a likely source for the video cassette from which the Vitaphone Sound Project derived their online version. I did not expect such quality going in --- how could anything off ancient VHS look good still? --- here my mea culpa, because this transfer is astounding for what Vitaphone was able to coax from on-its-face unpromising material. Let’s just say (once again) that miracles are being wrought at home by preservationists who take it upon themselves to discover and then uproot one rare title after another. Remember in May of this year when I pearl-dived at You Tube? Well, there’s been oceans of oysters since, Love Comes Along just one more in a seeming endless parade of pearls. Dispatch yourself quick to Vitaphone’s content page and be amazed at what they’ve come up with so far. Such creators as these make every morning Christmas for classic gatherers.
UPDATE: 8/13/2026: Being drunk still on AI and its impact on vintage marquees, I revisited a couple of columns and waved wand over stills stalled by black-and-white now rendered full color and what a difference it makes. See Mutiny on the Bounty Meets Day at the Races in 1950 and Time Travel to 1938.















18 Comments:
(Part One) Subject in today's post William M. Drew has been pondering AI reconstructions of lost films, and here are some of his conclusions so far. Hopefully there will be more to come ...
Dear John,
I'd be very interested in your perspective on the issue of AI reconstructions of lost films or major missing sequences from surviving films. I'd been pondering the idea for some time when I learned recently of an ambitious effort to restore or recreate the deleted 43 minutes from Orson Welles' The Magnificent Ambersons. Here is an online article from May of this year: https://wellesnet.com/magnificent-ambersons-ai-progress/
There have also been several recent efforts available on YouTube to "reanimate" a celebrated silent film that was completely lost, the legendary London After Midnight. Here is a link to perhaps the most successful of these attempts by a devotee in Japan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxP4Oy1Kgc4 This painstaking moving image reconstruction of the Lon Chaney/Tod Browning classic closely follows Rick Schmidlin's stills-based 2002 reconstruction of the film for TCM, including the same running-time of 46 minutes. For comparison, Schmidlin's version can be viewed at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBnFWZNJqls
The advent of AI in reviving films of the past opens up a whole number of questions far more challenging than the debate over "colorization" that was so hot 40 years ago. My position at the time, which I stated in a 1987 article published in Movie Collectors' World, was that colorizing vintage black and white films was an undesirable travesty. In only one instance did I support this technology--namely, in restoring color to films that had been originally filmed that way but had survived only in black and white copies. As it happens, several individuals have recently done that online to early musicals like On With the Show (1929), the first all-Technicolor, all-talking feature film. While "colorization" is still in wide use online, it has hardly banished black and white films of the past from the public consciousness as I had feared it might in what I concede is my thankfully outdated article from 1987.
From the standpoint of the artist, the contrast between "colorization" and a technology to make still images move is obvious. Throughout most of cinema history, there were various color processes available, whether it was Pathecolor, Agfacolor or Technicolor among those on the market. By and large, one can assume the artists accepted black and white in the many decades that this was the prevailing format as is attested by the many 1980s/90s attacks on "colorization" by a number of distinguished cinema veterans including Claire Trevor in my interview with her. When it comes to the issue of motion, the very essence or meaning of the word "cinema" or "kinema" in the original Greek means motion. If the artists who became involved in "film" had wanted to relate narratives in still images, presumably they would either have turned to comic book series like Classics Illustrated or attempted to revive the technique utilized by Alexander Black in his 1894 presentation of Miss Jerry utilizing a series of still photos to tell a story. One can assume, therefore, that cinema artists would most likely have preferred that given the choice, they would have opted for animating still images from a film of theirs that had either been entirely lost or was missing a number of vital sequences as a result of studio interference.
Part Two from William M. Drew:
Any criticism or reservation concerning AFI reconstruction or restoration of an entire lost film or one missing significant footage as a result of studio interference should, I believe, be directed at the degree to which such replacement work involves material somewhat alien to the original production. The people working on the Ambersons reconstruction say that their process of reclamation will involve actors or body doubles of people who in all probability were not even born when the Welles film was made. Also, this being a sound film, AI simulation of long-deceased players' voices will apparently be required to supply lines of dialogue that were cut from the film. It would seem that there were far fewer photographs of missing sequences from Ambersons than there were for Erich von Stroheim's Greed. The example of an illustrated sketch given in the Wellesnet article on Ambersons suggests that there was extensive use of storyboards rather than photos to cover the entire production. That would apparently explain the planned use of living human performers today to complete the project, something that was not needed for the Japanese AI restoration of London After Midnight or the likely reconstruction of Greed based on Rick Schmidlin's 1999 version in which the stills from the missing sequences would now be brought to life via AI animation.
Taking all this into consideration, I would be inclined to agree that there is potentially an artistic legitimacy in AI restoration of what was lost than what had been lacking in most usages of "colorization." However, the question arises as to how many still photos of lost films were retained by the studios. Would it be possible for a London After Midnight restoration or reconstruction to be applied to the first adaptation of The Great Gatsby (1926)? How many still photos of this Paramount production have survived? If only a few exist, then a person would have to attempt recreating the film primarily on the basis of supposition or imagination. I suspect that the visual record of a vast number of lost silent films, perhaps even the majority, amount to no more than a handful of glossy stills along with a few images in magazines and trade journals of the period.
The possibilities of AI with respect to film history range from the sublime to the ridiculous. I make no claims to being an expert in this new technology but I wonder if it might be possible to replace footage in films with severe nitrate decomposition or material with generational loss resulting from excessive duping. Couldn't the AI mimic the basic image in this damaged footage while restoring it to its original clarity? Or am I being an impractical dreamer in advancing such an idea?
Part Three and conclusion from William M. Drew:
I am also cognizant of possible dangers resulting from abuse of this new technology. For example, we could be confronted with the kinds of forgeries that have long plagued the older arts. Someone could come out with a long lost silent that he said he had rescued from complete destruction. He would say that he had copied the last surviving print of an early film by transferring it to a VHS tape. Then just before the VHS itself decayed, he would claim he copied it onto a DVD which he was now releasing to the world in a new Blu-ray version. In reality, he would have simply manipulated a few still images of the lost silent into a feature that had hardly any real basis in a photographic record of the film, making it essentially a forgery. But it might take the dedication of experts to determine that his phenomenal "discovery" was a hoax.
The ridiculous could also include absurd fabrications that no one would take seriously, such as someone concocting features co-starring such unlikely romantic pairings as George Arliss and Jean Harlow, W. C. Fields and Greta Garbo, or Clark Gable and Edna May Oliver in tales of grand passion. Or there could be a teaming of, say, Olive Thomas (died 1920) and Veronica Lake (born 1922) as two shopgirl friends in New York who land a job on Broadway in the "Follies." At the decidedly lower margins of taste, there could be--perish the thought!--filmic versions of the notorious "Tijuana Bibles" with fabricated cinematic depictions of the stars engaged in all kinds of sexual activity that many would be all too inclined to believe were real.
Note that all of the possibilities of AI, whether good or bad, that I've envisioned would be resulting from the deliberate, conscious actions of humans, not the nightmarish dystopia that many are predicting in which the machines run amok and dominate men and women rather than the reverse.
Again, I would appreciate any thoughts you might have on the coming role of AI in shaping or reshaping film history.
Warmest regards,
William M. Drew
John, you did a honey of a job on that Chevalier marquee. I usually don't go for colorization, but that looks like the real thing. Nice job on the others, too.
"Couldn't the AI mimic the basic image in this damaged footage while restoring it to its original clarity? Or am I being an impractical dreamer in advancing such an idea?"
The answer is a resounding big, bold, loud, YES! to first question and a quiet no to second.
The movies themselves are the first AI. Rudely called BASTARD THEATRE they were despised. A fellow took the still photo recreation of LONDON AFTER MIDNIGHT and used AI to turn it into a motion picture. Not a very good job was done however he showed both what can be done and, hopefully, inspired someone to do it better.
I'm waiting to see some with way more patience than I have work that magic with the films of Erich Von Stroheim.
There is an AI colour version on line of Dreyer's JOAN on line. An abomination as far as I am concerned (and I believe Dreyer would but we never know).
I do know Fritz Lang did not use colour tinting on his silent. Colourizing them is a betrayal of his design.
But, hey, it is happening.
As for "Tijuana Bibles", well, Bill, you've sowed the idea in someone's head (not mine). We will see them.
I have VCI's restoration of THE ADVENTURES OF TARZAN which has been all prettied up. I really wish it hadn't.
Again, but what the Hell, it is here when before it wasn't.
I am not fond of colour tinting on digital silent film. To my eye it weakens the image. Looked better on film.
The new is generally not welcomed until three generations have passed.
Great post. Thanks. Great reply from William M. Drew.
For the DVD of the 1933 "King Kong", Peter Jackson and crew did a speculative recreation of the lost "spider pit" sequence, using 1933 methods and enabling the sort of making-of documentary Willis O'Brien evidently wouldn't allow at the time. While the results were impressive and plausible, they emphatically decided against actually inserting it into the original movie, or providing an option for the home viewer to do so.
That kind of reverence will fade as the urge to second-guess creators, many but not all long gone, becomes irresistible. Especially for copyright holders looking to sell refreshed goods and perhaps extend copyright on a revised version.
One could, for example, give "Suspicion" the ending Hitchcock said he intended. Or make the leads in "The Enchanted Cottage" as non-attractive as the script requires them to be. Or carefully tweak "Seven Year Itch" to indicate Tom Ewell's character actually had a one night stand (Wilder planned to imply it with a hairpin in his bed, but even that was too much for the 50s), so his consequent panic would be based on what actually happened rather than a disproportionate reaction to an unlikely possibility.
The rationale of What the Creators Intended opens the door to everything from reinstating lost deleted scenes (the giant bats from "Tarzan Escapes") to altering or adding dialogue from an pre-censor script or even source material defoliating all those Production Code fig leaves in sex farces and crime stories). Of course this has been going on forever via cuts, rewrites, and comparatively crude technology. But as it becomes increasingly easy and affordable, expect excuses to become thinner and thinner. "Problematic" actors will be replaced as easily as problematic lines; inconvenient plot lines and settings as well. And "problematic" will be defined as anything personally, politically, or financially discomforting to a studio executive.
I much appreciated William M. Drew’s insight regarding the use of AI for the recreation of missing sequences in films or even of films altogether lost. Well done! I would only add that, in recreating sequences or films based on still collections, a still may be evocative of a sequence or shot, but the sequence or shot itself was, in a sense, made up of a vastly greater number of stills. That is, it would have been made up of frames of film intended to be run through a projector at the rate of 16 frames per second or more. These frames, which would be the equivalent of stills in this analogy, would have comprised images in long, medium, and close-up shots, which would have been composed or edited in a particular manner by the director or someone overseen by him. In recreating a sequence, then, one would look to the editing reflected in the existing film, or if the sequence or shot being recreated was dissimilar from the existing footage, from the director’s other work. Likewise, if the entire film was being recreated, one would look to the work of the director most similar to the subject of the film. Other records, such as annotated scripts, production notes, interviews, and the like, would also provide clues as to the director’s intentions and what was accomplished. The fidelity of the recreation to the original sequences or film would be affected by the number and type of stills evoking a shot or sequence. So, the more stills there are, the greater the opportunity for fidelity.
Never knew till recently that AI could look so good as this. Safe to say I am a convert for life.
I don't doubt that AI as applied to classic era films will be corrupted in no telling how many ways, but for the moment at least, it seems a more good than bad thing.
For me an equally greater concern is this causing rights holders to think 'hey, lets just load all the films into AI and dump all those cans of film that are just taking up space!' It'd be like Fox's short-sighted decision to dump all their original nitrate material in the 70s. These digital creations (and that includes our precious Blu-Rays) will only last for as long as there is electricity to run our devices. Keep film in good shape though, and you could still crank it through a projector in front of a candle lantern...
Mr. McElwee, are there any particular YouTubers you'd recommend for finding freshly public-domain goodies? I looked up 'The Woman Racket' and saw at least 2-3 different accounts with it.
Jake Reed is your guy for THE WOMAN RACKET, and he's got plenty of other good stuff.
Thank you for the tip!
Dan Mercer back with more people and picture observations (Part One):
“Funny Screen Experiences” by Louise Brooks
I understand that "Funny Screen Experiences" was a newspaper column supposedly written by Louise Brooks about some mildly amusing mishap on the set of "The Show-Off." No doubt someone in the studio publicity department was the actual author, Louise only the unwilling lessor of her name on the byline. The picture suggests how she might have been a little askance about the results.
Vivian Leigh in “Waterloo Bridge”
That exquisite beauty could seem as though it was fashioned from porcelain, immutable and removed from tenderness. Not here and not in this film. Her character has a heart which yearns and reaches out. She reveals it. There is also a fate which shepherds her steps into the darkness awaiting her. She senses it but walks along that path all the same.
“To Catch a Thief”
Those looking for intrigue will be disappointed, but for colorful locales wrapped around this delicious teaming of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly like gold foil on a bon bon, they'll find it most entertaining.
Grace Kelly in Edith Head designs for “Rear Window”
It was understood once that the frame complements a painting. As with a painting, so with clothing and a beautiful woman. If a woman be beautiful, as Grace Kelly was, then let that beauty find emphasis and variation in what she wears. In this potpourri, I shouldn't want to distinguish one outfit from another, but that ensemble of white halter top and long, fern green skirt suggests that Kelly's back and shoulders were a neglected aspect of her sexual allure.
Proposed Film of Barbara Payton’s Life
The most difficult aspect will be suggesting her talent, because her opportunities were relatively few and none allowed her to approach her potential. Thus, it will be something evanescent, but unless the audience understands what was lost, the sense of tragedy will be lessened. Every tragedy involves the destruction of something, but what?
Louise Brooks in “Diary of a Lost Girl”
The conundrum of the tree falling in the forest is well known. Does it make a sound if there is no one to hear? It means that sound is a perception; thus, there must be someone to hear if it is to be perceived. But what of a film? Can it be great if there is no one to see it? Can a performance in it be recognized for its sublimity if the film is unknown? Fortunately, these are moot questions in the case of "Diary of a Lost Girl." Its greatness and the extraordinary performance of Louise Brooks in it are well known today. The pity is that it was so long before our eyes were finally opened.
“I Walked With a Zombie”
Val Lewton had a poetic approach to art but found himself heading a B unit for RKO Radio Pictures making cheap, sensational pictures. Fortunately, he was allowed to make what he wished, so long as it justified in some way the garish titles conceived in advance for the exploitation possibilities of the films. So, "Curse of the Cat People" followed the success of "Cat People" with a sensitive tale of a little girl who ran ahead of the other children, while "I Walked With a Zombie" might be "Jane Eyre in the Caribbean." Always, there was an appreciation that the fears and terrors that beset us are less those that rend the flesh as tear at the soul.
Part Two from Dan Mercer:
Press Release of Natalie Keaton Having Given Up $104,000 a Year to be With Buster
Press agents have imaginations fragrant with fantasy. But there was a time when Buster and Natalie were happy together, if only because they were still in the process of learning who the other was. Their own ideals had not been confounded yet.
Virginia Bruce in “Winner Take All”
Virginia Bruce was a remarkable and, I think, most underrated actress. She brought a decided carnality to her role as a playgirl in "Winner Take All," of which this scene is only a suggestion. During the same year, however, she also appeared as the demure wife in "Downstairs" and the debauched innocent in "Kongo." There were three roles, then, that required her to play completely different characters spanning a great emotional range, which she did most persuasively. That she was also an extremely beautiful woman makes it almost unfathomable that she never became a major star.
“Seven Chances”
A more conventional comedy, not without its charms, but who would have expected that colossal finish?
Adrienne Ames
Adrienne Ames worked all over Hollywood, from big studios like Paramount and Fox to Tiffany, Progressive, Republic and other small ones. What she brought to all the pictures she made was a porcelain-like beauty that the camera might have considered at its leisure, and not without pleasure. But she would have had to move and say lines as well, and somehow there wasn't sufficient faith in her abilities there to provide her with more substantial roles than the programmers she usually did. In one of her pictures, "The Death Kiss," a murder mystery for Sono Art - World Wide, she appeared opposite David Manners, Bela Lugosi, and Edward Van Sloan and was required to look alluring and especially beautiful. She did that very well.
Barbara Payton in “Trapped”
"Trapped" is a not bad docudrama of a type popular in the late forties, a sort of grafting of film noir with the police procedural. The acting by John Hoyt and Lloyd Bridges is good and the suspense picks up when the camera goes outside on location, where the darkness is real. Unfortunately, Bridges fell ill during filming, so the plot rambles on a bit during the last third, which was redone to make Hoyt the lead protagonist. However, the picture also provides a glimpse of what Hollywood saw in Barbara Payton then, when her career was on the rise. She plays a beautiful and alluring young woman making bad decisions for the sake of a bad man, does it well, and garners a good deal of sympathy for someone who seems caught up in a bad crowd, yet remains essentially decent and loving. Her looks, manner, voice, and way with a line all suggest the promise of an actress who would do better things later on, but this would remain a tantalizing but largely unrealized possibility.
Lupe Velez
Interesting that an actress with so fiery a personality so often played Madonna-like roles early on. Something about that cameo-like beauty embraced what she herself would not.
“The Big Sleep”
The original version is marvelous and a little more comprehensible, if that means anything for a movie with more loose ends than confetti at a World Series parade. But this one is generally considered the iconic version, with the Bacall embellishments and the post coitus cigarettes. From my admittedly offbeat perspective, however, if you want to see Raymond Chandler's Marlowe in a Raymond Chandler story, however, I'd suggest Robert Montgomery's "Lady in the Lake."
Part Three from Dan Mercer:
Arrest picture of Barbara Payton
Her hands are clasped together like those of a little girl, wanting so much to reach out to someone, when she knows that no one is there to hold her, no one to take her hand. The sense of aloneness is profound, also a terrible weariness. She doesn't want to live like this anymore. She just wants it all to stop.
Newspaper Clipping Announcing the Marriage of Louise Brooks and Eddie Sutherland
I imagine the marriage seemed like a good idea at the time. There is picture of them together at a party around then, she in a sheath dress, sitting on a sofa with a bright, sinister smile on her face and an arm dangling casually between his legs as he sits on the sofa arm. He's smiling, too, but it's the slightly goofy smile of someone who may not be entirely aware of what he's gotten himself into.
Trailer for the Lost “The Great Gatsby”
The eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleburg, gazing blindly from a decaying billboard overlooking a wasteland, were prominently displayed in the novel, also its dust cover and, it seems, no less forlornly in the trailer of this lost film adaptation.
If Louise Brooks’ costume in “Now We’re in the Air” had been in color
Perhaps cream or ivory in the arms and skirt, which would add a bright contrast to the fur, and teal for the bodice, to complement the undertones of the fur, creating an eye-catching contrast. The cloche hat would be teal with a white and mauve head band. There being no true primary colors, perhaps even the two strip Technicolor process available then would have captured the look of the costume with some fidelity.
Norma Shearer in “Romeo and Juliet”
Norma's Juliet was admirable for the sweet way in which she spoke the words and her sincerity, but the production was too overborn with reverence for the work as to allow passion or the frivolity of youth. She caught more of that in the little skit she played with John Gilbert in "The Hollywood Revue of 1929," her face fresh and her hair long and lustrous, as though awaiting the bridal bower, than she did here.
Cartoon of Buster Keaton and Mae Scrivens arriving at “King Kong” premier
A rather flattering glimpse of Mae Scrivens, who was a handsome woman but no dainty doll, as here.
Portrait of Mary Philbin and Conrad Veidt from “The Man Who Laughs”
A theme found in so many horror and fantasy films, where a man monstrous in his appearance is loved by someone who can only see his heart.
John Gilbert was born on July 10, 1897
The fascination with Gilbert persists. He was not the most handsome of men, the decisions he made in his life were sometimes erratic, even absurd. Yet he remains the epitome of the romantic, for his utter commitment to romance. His eyes are a revelation, for the heart given over to someone--something—who fascinates him. There was nothing before that moment, there would be nothing after, only the moment itself which must be entirely realized or lost. In this is a kind of eternity. The absurdity really lies in how far he will exceed the limits of the commonplace to obtain it.
Some say that his career faltered with the coming of sound when his voice was found to be inadequate. His talkies, however, reveal a mellifluous, well-modulated voice. The problem was not the voice but what was said with it. More particularly, there was an apparent belief then that everything should be said aloud, even things that might be better said in silence. His eyes revealed the depths of his feelings, when words could only provide a pretext, not a resolution. By the end, there was a greater understanding, if only by him, but the silence then was borne by a profound sadness.
He had lived with such utter self-belief and commitment. He began to die when this seemed only to be the stuff of delusion.
In "The Silent Clowns", Walter Kerr describes how silence and under cranking enabled a kind of fantasy / heightened reality impossible in sound. He focuses on how comedians had to sink or swim in a talkie world, adding that John Gilbert's costume romances likewise fell to earth with natural speed and tinny soundtracks. Kerr contrasts Gilbert, cast in movies playing by the old rules, to Ronald Colman, previously working the same street but reborn as Bulldog Drummond, modern dress and language fitted to exploit rather than resist sound.
Just as you say, Donald, undercranking was an asset to silent film, certainly comedy, and it doesn't benefit some of these revivals on DVD to slow them down so much.
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