A Screen Idol Takes It To His Audience

 

The Eagle (1925) Lets Rudy Get Everything Right

Rudy speaks!, except he never did, at least into microphones (wireless transmissions, yes, but who has them?). He sang, and not badly, albeit for primitive recording. He barely missed sound for exit on 8/23/26 at age thirty-one. Don Juan and Vitaphone had opened but weeks before (suppose he got a glimpse?). Long wish of mine was to hear Valentino, knowing chance of that to be same as most any nineteenth century notable leaving behind a voice (and yet, surprising numbers did, including names you’d not imagine … check You Tube for samples). More than one interviewer asked silent era survivors what Rudy sounded like, figuring his foreignness might mean an impenetrable accent. Not so, said one, Carmel Myers, “his voice was just beautiful.” Everything about Valentino seemed beautiful over years after he left, a halo hung by those who treasured an era he so strongly defined. Couple of movies were made about his life that were really some fictional guy’s story who had little to do with Rudy. There would never be a star like him again (would-be’s, yes, none to approach him), but what if Rudy had stayed, stayed long enough for talkies to reject him for any number of “sound” reasons. We know the casualty list of silent favorites far exceeds those who made the grade. Suppose John Gilbert had died that August day instead of Valentino. Would their endgames be simply reversed, history telling the sad decline of a once supreme Latin Lover, while lionizing a greatest of voiceless heartthrobs that was premature passed Gilbert? None of rivals along Latin line prospered on that basis with talk, most bent toward character work (and excelling at it --- Gilbert Roland, Antonio Moreno, Ramon Novarro). Valentino was most luckless for not living longer, something he obviously would have preferred even if the career had tailed off.

Indications are that Rudy was slipping as his close neared. A final two features, arguably the best of work he left, did less than hoped. The Eagle, a bolt off Fairbanks cloth, had dash, humor, Valentino less torrid, more sincere, in short putting over tops of his line, but was his a product near expiration? I compared figures for The Eagle beside other United Artists output of the time, was surprised it did not do better than $841K in domestic rentals (Little Annie Rooney took $1.1 million, The Black Pirate $1.5 million). Son of the Sheik would be an improvement with $1.3 million, some, if not much, of that attributable to morbid interest following Valentino’s unexpected death. For a vehicle so calibrated to public taste, The Eagle should have been the spike Rudy needed, or was he done in by a string of clucks Paramount earlier handed him? Very self-aware were remarks Valentino made when he appeared on stage for the Mark Strand premiere of The Eagle on Broadway. Part of what myself and doubtless much of his public liked about Valentino was that he did not kid himself as to who he was and what he had to sell. Even serrated-edge H.L. Mencken wrote a sympathetic profile when Rudy came to him for advice in managing press criticism gone lately to personal attacks. Valentino understood the value of a high-profile supporter in Mencken and so flattered him by seeking the help. Was this a calculated move? If so, it was a clever one, for Mencken was solidly in Rudy’s corner, a rare thing for rude indifference the columnist generally showed to screen personalities.

Original Caption Says Rudy Studies Hungarian and Vilma Banky English So They Can Talk to One Another

It was known by trade and public that Valentino was done with Paramount, fault shared by both quarreling sides. Interloping independent Joseph Schenck advanced Rudy what it took to complete dream home that was Falcon Lair, paying him $10K per week besides. Money for Valentino was like water through a sieve. You could give twice as much and he’d find ways to squander it. His union with Natascha Rambova was also in collapse. They posed kissy-bye as she entrained East, both aware the marital deal was done, but not realizing they were seeing a last of one another here. A nasty scribe called Rudy a sissy and bad influence on men as a whole, to which Italian hot-blood demanded a duel, at least a punch-up should RV come across the loudmouth. Here was what primarily led to the Mencken summit. Most saw The Eagle as needed tonic to virilize Valentino. Director Clarence Brown (seen above introducing his daughter to Valentino on the set) and once-writer-for Lubitsch Hans Kraly were assets Paramount had not, would not, expend on talent they took for granted. Rudy said frankly to trade press, “I have no desire to try to change public taste, even if that were possible.” He knew and said that Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and The Sheik were so-far highlights of a brief starring career. “The fans seem to want to see me in colorful, romantic roles and situations,” exotic costumes a necessary component to that. Valentino had sense enough to recognize what worked best for him after taking some frankly bad and contrary advise. He would listen now to those with ears closest to turnstiles. Rudy crossed country for New York’s Strand premiere to watch and hear for himself how a public would react to The Eagle.

Jack Dempsey Schools Valentino On How To Handle Those Who Would Impugn His Manhood

November 8, 1925 was the rainy day, 3000 jamming streets to fill 2,989 available seats inside. Word got out that Valentino was there, but he wanted to see The Eagle and gauge response, so did not alight the stage until a finish. Meantime there was a live prologue, the 1812 Overture, followed by “festive singing and dancing, to Russian melodies.” Trades would review live portions from B’way presentation houses in often hair-split detail, down to lighting effects, where spots landed, color of gels applied, these a most critical aspect of programs, for here is how theatres were truly judged. The full-up Strand, plus standing room close-in, heard Rudolph Valentino speak, a first time for virtually all listeners. Hordes stood vigil at the stage door Rudy would later exit, nothing left to chance for this unique occasion. Wonder what letters, diaries, or scrapbooks survive to give us their impressions. Fortunately, there is Mordaunt Hall’s New York Times review to quote Rudy’s words from the stage: “Mr. Valentino … thanked the audience for its reception of the picture, adding that he felt sure that by it he would regain that popularity that he had enjoyed a few years ago.” Rudy admitted to the audience “that his preceding photoplay, The Sainted Devil, was a poor picture.” Clearly he had washed his hands of Paramount. How often did any star stand before thousands and acknowledge his/her last effort as unworthy? I’m betting the crowd took Valentino very much to bosoms for his candor. And to think many of these would overflow streets less than a year later to view the actor’s funeral cortege. Trades was meanwhile watchful: “It is no secret that much of Rudolph’s future hinges on this picture. A smashing success right now would doubtless bring him back with a bang --- which explains why he wants to be right on the ground when it (The Eagle) opens in New York.”

Clarence Brown Directs Bears That Will Menace Rudy at High Points of The Eagle

The Eagle had a terrific opener week, near $50K in receipts, and was held for a second. What with disguises he assumes, you could say the star has three roles here, none played heavy, all laced for laughs a fresh direction for Valentino, intent on giving his public fun for their money. A next, and fated to be last, Son of the Sheik, kept levity with the mix. These final two play best of the actor’s output. Of silent stars, Valentino had a largest post-sound surge thanks to nationwide bookings of The Sheik, with an added score, that proved an unexpected hit for Paramount in 1938, a year well into audience impulse to jeer, or be mystified, by mute performing, ten years a lifetime or close for youth in attendance. And yes, they rollicked at The Sheik as it answered yes to all they guessed about old time movies better left to old times, save for chuckles an odd specimen might supply. Emil Jensen of independent Artcinema Associates was versed in retread of tires flat or with air enough to earn at least small house dates. He leased Son of the Sheik, and some months later, The Eagle, to eventual play singly, or as a pair. Whereas 1938-39 viewers could laugh at The Sheik, chances were better they would laugh with these. Critics noted polish few expected. Turns out Valentino delivered entertainment goods as efficiently as modern Hollywood. How different was The Eagle, after all, from present-day melodramas cast from same essential mold? To be more frank, what modern releases were so handsome as what The Eagle put on display? Here were audiences confronted by a silent movie they could not ridicule. Was there disappointment for that?

The Eagle was early to television. ABC saw ratings success with it in 1948, a novelty, and free besides. The Eagle and Son of the Sheik went into the Public Domain, prints sold to those with 8 and 16mm projectors to home-show them. Blackhawk Films had The Eagle in an abridged version. What remained of it came largely from Paul Killiam material. Raymond Rohauer was said to have elements used for a laser disc release of some years back. Neither did The Eagle full justice. Silent films truly rise or fall on print quality. Without it, you’ve got no show, or a substandard one. Kino lately put out a Blu-Ray to best-we’re-likely-to-get response. It will do because it will have to do. Older I get, the easier it is to adjust to such reality, maybe for finally knowing perfection is never attainable (but look at The Big Parade, The General, Wings, a few others that come close). The Eagle pleases withal, brief enough not to tire at 73 minutes, the film designed from a start for dawdle-free pace. 1938-39 observers were right to note how modern The Eagle played. To a large extent, it still does, and that is thanks to Valentino, who understood by this point what was needed to freshen his persona and hold a changing audience. Problem was times changing out from under him, which he could barely see coming thanks to departure at eve of an industry’s biggest so-far convulsion. Do Valentino’s admirers like him best for such ideal, if not deliberate, timing?