Showmen Sell It Hot #2

 

Showmen: Silent Standout, Peggy in Color Print, Mush to See Smith, and Lubitsch Chopped Down

RIDE, HORSEMEN, RIDE (1921) --- Show them this to demonstrate how a silent feature can captivate viewership readily as it did a hundred years back, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse my … anyone’s … best argument against the silent era as hopeless antiquity. Quality has been fine a long time, Kevin Brownlow and team having rescued and refurbished Four Horsemen when to do so with silents was bold stuff (1993). That remains attitude now, though I’d argue restorations of pre-talk have risen in at least niche estimation, judging by online interest when titles emerge from century-long hibernation. Thirty-two years seems eons to those who follow ancient action interrupted by titles with music hopefully to propel both, Warner Archive taking ’93 rehab of ’21 effort to new height the fruit of digital makeover and visuals improved the more. To reiterate: Four Horsemen is not just for those long put to apologizing for film without talk. This is vigorous, fleet-pace epic telling of Great War impact on an Argentinian clan with roots in countries soon to face off on Euro battlefields. We seldom see sweep of this sort by modern tellers, and I wonder not at all that The Four Horsemen was long considered flat out the best not only of silent movies, but movies overall. Above revival ad dates from late 1926, consensus putting Four Horsemen at a top of All-Time lists. Someone asked John Wayne decades later to list his favorites and he included this, as would leagues of others no longer with us perhaps, but evidence of what and why they exulted is here for Blu-ray consumption. Risking contradiction perhaps, I’d say only The Birth of a Nation passed Four Horsemen for pennant that was perfection in filmmaking before voicing commenced. My not mentioning Rudolph Valentino so far is merely to affirm Horsemen would be a same landmark with or without the star born therein, though rest assured, his is the spark to ignite and hold narrative grip. Valentino was a vital if not saving grace of any show he was in, being bonus here to what is remarkable already, Rudy a linchpin among many to keep our attention undivided. Do suspend whatever doubt lingers at prospect of sitting for a silent, let alone at two hour plus length, and give this a try. It’s in all ways a viewing revelation.

ROTOGRAVURE OF OUR DREAMS --- Sometimes a frameable keepsake came no more expensive than whatever a Sunday edition cost in 1941, weekend inserts tendering color portraiture of stars and up-comers Hollywood groomed for top placement. One of these was Peggy Moran, she of lineage that was pinup photographer Earl Moran, raising question in my mind, was Peggy ever a subject for Dad’s camera? She surfaced at a Burbank autograph show I attended during the nineties. None of us forgot Peggy so long as The Mummy’s Hand unspooled somewhere, which it had and relentlessly would from release to TV along with other Universal monsters in 1957. Those who toiled in such then-minor films (in Mummy’s case 1940) had faint grasp of what their work meant to those who came upon their efforts on childhood television. We must all have seemed absurd, if not developmentally blocked, to Peggy and peers who stayed enough years to meet fans for work never figured to last beyond first-runs and likely oblivion after. I threw Peggy a curve by asking not about the Mummy, but instead Deanna Durbin. Don’t recall the specific question or her answer. Peggy Moran like many starlets toiled through minor parts in important films and major parts in unimportant films with a goal same as many a hire at the time … locate a mate with good prospects and settle down in comfort with family to follow. Peggy did that and prospered, director Henry Koster her pick and both living well as he went on directing features into the sixties (The Singing Nun his finale). It was said she had considerable influence over creative decisions Koster made. Pinups of the sort shown here were kept by fans who’d hang them or create scrapbooks. Image quality speaks for itself. I’d mention that no daily around NC had color content like this alongside Sunday funnies, although perhaps a few got round to it in 1941 when Peggy’s image appeared. If they had, and I’d been around with scissors, surely albums would have made by me rather than collecting them decades on from old timers present during glory publishing days.

HURRY DOGS, SHOW STARTS SOON! --- Exhibitor comments were trade gust of honesty against gale of hyperbole the lot of industry-controlled press. Twas ever thus except where are today's showmen speaking truth to power that controls flow of industry data? What managers wrote and mailed to exhibitor magazines could be took to bank by colleagues hardened by lies via engines run on lies, or to put it kind, gross exaggeration. Gleaned from above commentary was “team-cutter” being a dog sled, oft-means of conveyance for those amidst “rural population” of Sturgis, Saskatchewan. Wish I could access a photo of their Regal Theatre, but would lens freeze where trying to capture such place? Reference is made to temperatures at fifty-nine below, which surprises me that humans survive in cold so severe, let alone could drive dogs ten miles to see Whispering Smith, which we know was/is a swell 1948 western, but this good? Imagine parking the pack outside while seeing Smith in comparative Regal warmth (did they brag of comfort at ten degrees above freezing?). Local friend told me of his uncle and boy-chums in 1943 tying ponies in front of our Allen Theatre for Son of Dracula, a commonplace on local streets at that time. “Everyone was happy as could be” might sum up attendees to hard-earn pleasure of a day out for films. I often walked to the Liberty (apx. a mile) and for it felt righteous, especially where there was snow on the ground and surfaces limited to foot traffic. We saw For a Few Dollars More in such circumstance, not a little spooky where no vehicles were present upon exit onto Main Street. Our Liberty, like the mail, always ran.

GOOD AS BROADWAY FOR A FRACTION OF MONEY --- To beat Broadway’s time was a dream seldom attained by outlier cinemas, but distributors sometimes flattered us by playing specials day-and-date with New York first-runs, venues separated from the Main Stem by a state if not several states here offering The Merry Widow at popular prices while ultimate up-towners were still paying two dollars to see the Astor roadshow. What went unmentioned in these ads was what came with The Merry Widow at the Astor, Major Bowes of amateur hour fame doing his radio broadcast live from the theatre’s lobby. Just entering was splendor enough, arc lights outside giving off a “weird blue mist” to fall upon observers up/down the block (was that stuff toxic?). Special treat Astor patronage got, unwittingly as things turn out, was a complete Merry Widow which late in the engagement got a censor haircut, instruction sent on 10/29/34 to all Metro exchanges that Code-commanded trims, significant ones, were to be made immediately. This played havoc to prints, and integrity, of The Merry Widow, fated henceforth to go in denuded state. Irving Thalberg, who fought the edict vigorously, made sure a complete print survived for posterity’s sake. This fortunately is what we see today, but not what audiences were inflicted by for a remainder of 1934 and into 1935. All general release prints were physically, and hurriedly, cut prior to all engagements in every territory, disrupting the flow of dialogue and music. Surely a public noticed, and resented, damage so severe to an otherwise sparkling Ernst Lubitsch musical comedy. A strict-enforced Production Code would cast its baleful shadow over screens everywhere, viewers crying foul where they saw evidence of vandalism such as was done here. We’re blessed that Irving Thalberg took action to rescue The Merry Widow and preserve it as Lubitsch intended.

Thanks to precode authority Mark Vieira for Production Code info on The Merry Widow.