Art of... Selling Around a Sock, Wish Upon Voices, and Spanish Spoken Here, Says Seattle
LOMBARD AND MARCH, KNOCK YOURSELVES OUT--- Nothing Sacred was a
Selznick Technicolor comedy in 1937 that ran 77 minutes, aspects unique in
themselves, the more so as this feature later entered the public domain and for years evaded worthwhile prints. Best elements are presently housed at
Disney, owners of most Selznick output and seemingly indifferent to it all.
Kino has a Blu-Ray, “as good as it’s ever going to look” according to more than
one responsible reviewer. Considering dog-earness of previous editions, I'll concur to that. Nothing Sacred was credited to Ben
Hecht as writer with contributions by half the wits of Hollywood, Selznick with that sort of reach once gone independent. Carole Lombard and Fredric March
were independents too and came at a high price. The film cost lots and lost
money. Parts are funny, but funnier where you’re wired to non-ending wisecracks the lot of Hecht and help. These people lived under pressure to top
each other at dinners and cocktail gathers. Hecht humor varies, an emperor with
fewer clothes than others paid less than he famously was. Nothing Sacred was
remade with Martin and Lewis at Paramount and that’s probably where negatives
crossed up. There had been before a Cinecolor reissue for Sacred that yielded 16mm prints
to make collectors wonder if old-style Technicolor was good as it was cracked
up to be. Much of talk (and advertising) revolved around fist-fighting between
Lombard and March, each punched unconscious by the other to presumed comic
effect, which maybe worked better for posters and ads than in the movie. Sure it gave pressbooks
and theatre art shops plenty to chew on, the fight by far centerpiece
of all promoting, at least in 1937. Nothing Sacred looks good enough to enjoy, Lombard in color and such a sum-up of Selznick’s ideal for boxoffice.
He might have done better than with United Artists to distribute. They commanded
highest flat rentals at least from the Liberty during those years, and DOS
famously fell out with them on more than one occasion. Ultimate split led to his distributing work for himself.
OH TO HEAR THEM JUST ONCE--- Lately contemplated silent era sufferers and
realize how most seem worse off for not leaving voice evidence of how hard ordeals
were.Wallace Reid, Mabel Normand, Valentino, Mary Miles Minter … not one can we hear save a song Rudy recorded that disappoints for him not speaking as in
talking to us like his characters did minus sound. Valentino was after all not
a vocalist by trade. Sadness surrounding the lot would be more so (or less?) if we could
hear one or all utter for themselves. Reid got hooked on morphine and may have explained his pain had devices been handy to memorialize the struggle, but would Edison, or De Forest, or anybody, want to get Wally’s truth
down for fans or posterity to hear? Reid theatre ads are gateway to themes/genres
beyond just him. How regrettable so much of this star is lost, though we could say
that about whole of his peer lot. Who’s for seeing The Ghost Breaker and/or 30
Days? Neither appear to survive. Exposé features followed Wallace Reid’s death,
many like The Drug Traffic sold like horror films. Twenties public was taught
to shun, fear, and dread narcotic use. Reid’s wife made cottage --- no mansion
--- industry of scare shows suggested by what happened to her husband. Devils
with long horns came on heels of illicit drugs. You’d not sink lower than using
them. Reid might be recalled for other than his addiction were more of his
filmsextant. Most were comedies or action oriented. He was peppy like
Fairbanks and a model forReginald Denny, more to come, and might have lasted
long had fate been kinder. Would legacy sustain the more were there recordings and
a voice to associate with the silent face? Fairbanks and Denny got to talk, and
plenty, over lifetimes longer than Wally’s. What seems so ghostly about gone
players from pre-sound is so many who’d remain mute for all time.
Where squawk over lost voices, why stop with stars? There is after all
no hearing Oscar Wilde, Mark Twain, Ralph Waldo Emerson. They were stars too,
bigger ones in fact than most who’d emerge later on film, and we could ask why
none spoke for pioneer recorders. Emerson having died in 1882 would have been early
to such part, but Edison by 1877 was successfully catching sound, and Emerson with
his more than robust reputation as a lecturer would have been a natural to record.
Oscar Wilde too seems ideal for capture, having lived till 1900, and
there's alleged track of him reading from his final work, authenticity
challenged, debunked by experts who cite its revolutions per minute (78) a development
to come well after Wilde’s departure. Wishful thought causes many to claim legitimacy, this to illustrate how much we’d all like to hear the writer and supreme
wit of his era. Stateside equivalent to challenge Wilde would be Mark Twain and
he’s said to have experimented at home with cylinders to seize and hold his voice,
but not satisfied with results, he either destroyed same or let them get lost
(but what if somebody found them behind a secret panel at the Clemens home which
does still stand?). Closest we’ve got to hearing Mark Twain is an impression,
said to be dead on, by famed stage actor William Gillette who grew up a
neighbor to Clemens, knew the author well, and was in fact mentored by him. Of
acting legends emerged from the nineteenth century, there at least was one,
Edwin Booth, who graced cylinders with excerpts from Othello and Hamlet. Hardly matters you can barely hear him ... it's the man himself and that is what matters.
For all I know, the lot of now-silent personages were heard on radio,
for what do we retain of abundant hours spread by wireless to listeners as gone themselves as voices they heard, then forgot? There is reason to
believe Normand, Minter, Rudy, infinite more, stood before primitive
microphones to address home listeners. Sadness lies in virtually no recordings extant,
as who preserved radio transmission during the twenties and to what purpose? What if Mabel or
MMM, or both, ruminated as to how William Desmond Taylor got offed? Occurs to me that were it not for Warner Bros. inviting Roscoe Arbuckle to come in
and make six talkie shorts in 1932-33, we might never have heard the comedian’s
voice, would forever wonder what he sounded like. I assumeMary Miles Mintertalked for radio, if not during the twenties, then certainly during the
thirties when she was known to show up places and make with her opinions. How
many know Theda Bara did radio? Not me for the longest time. Imagine if we had
lost Chaplin right afterModern Times, or Fields before talkies could capture
his voice andessenceof being funny. Larry Semon was one who did not make it,
missed the switch but barely, so spoken word remains a mystery. William S. Hart did
single reels in guest capacity and introduced Tumbleweeds for reissue purpose, spoke
for radio, but where and to what listeners? D.W. Griffith made odd appearance introducing
the silent 1923 feature Dream Street, was back years later to share thoughts on
The Birth of a Nation for its sound-era revival. I’ve tried finding radio work
by former band teacher Priscilla Lyon but have so far come up only with Mayor
of the Town (her with Lionel Barrymore and Agnes Moorehead), but so far no Junior
Miss segments where she performed with Shirley Temple. Are all gone with the
ether?
NEVER NEEDED SUBTITLES TO BE FUNNY--- Is the Fox Theatre in Seattle fitting
foreign to the week’s comedy? Featured is Laurel and Hardy in Night Owls,
“twice as long, 10 times as funny.” Ladrones was how Night Owls went out to
Spanish-speaking viewership, length at 38 minutes, U.S. release that was Night Owls a customary
twenty minutes. The comedians did phonetic reading of lines unfamiliar to both.
Humor of Night Owls was visual, as with most L&H. It’s easy to enjoy foreign versions of their shorts minus subtitles. So too must have watchers that
’30 week in Seattle. For them, a Laurel-Hardy twice as long was that much wider
spread of joy, as was for me watching Ladrones, which happily survives, is
available on DVD and to my reckon one of the funniest of all Laurel-Hardys. Extended
go at housebreaking sees every imaginable thing go wrong for the pair. Seekers
after comedy done ingeniously right will laud loudly, few to shun spoken
language not their own. Seattle counted on audience arms to embrace humor rich even if it didn’t talk same as most watching. Evidence of this ad is all I
have to suggest it was Ladrones and not Night Owls unspooling for this engagement
but will stand by “twice as long” and what that appears to confirm. Further research in
trades might reveal other US theatres that used foreign-spoke comedies put
before domestic lookers, being longer lending them lure next to standard
versions. They play unique and almost exotic to fan following now. Small miracle Ladrones
was located in storage thirty years back among cache of Roach comedies.
Till then we’d seen stills from foreign versions but never the real thing
in motion. Who knew for sure they ever existed? My Spanish teacher in high
school, a refugee from Cuba, told me Laurel-Hardy ran in cinemas almost to the
day he fled in 1959. Bet there are vaults down there yet to yield treasure. Hal
Roach said his team did bigger business out of the country than in. Look how
L&H were received when they visited and later performed in the Brit Isles. AI
stats courtesy Google: Seattle’s Hispanic population in 1930 amounted to 15.9%, about 365,583. That
population was surely drawn in, as would be curiosity seekers and those wanting
double-dose of L&H. Few if any gag relies on language here. Is it safe to
say sight comics were most liked worldwide of all film performers, silent or
sound?
Is it safe to say sight comics were most liked worldwide of all film performers, silent or sound?
Right you are, John. Chaplin in the teens and twenties, Laurel & Hardy and Buster Keaton for decades. I might even stretch a point for The Three Stooges, whose shorts were released in silent form for the home-movie market. The tradition extends to Rowan Atkinson's Mr. Bean in the nineties (shown as in-flight entertainment on international flights long after its TV run).
There are some double-length Charley Chase shorts on the Roach DVDs, which benefit from his ability to speak (and sing) in Spanish. Did he do any other languages?
Worth noting that multiple language versions were a two-way street, with Hollywood remaking foreign hits and sometimes importing stars.
When did dubbing and subtitles take root as preferred practice? Did foreign audiences find these better or worse?
Hal Roach said that his multiple-language versions were extremely popular and he made lots of money from them. The international exchanges would complain to MGM: "Why should we take your pictures with subtitles when we can get pictures with spoken dialogue from Roach?" MGM asked Roach to stop making the international versions because they were hurting the company.
After 1932 the studios would make foreign-language features specifically for certain markets (for example, George Hirliman produced a series of Spanish-speaking musicals for MGM release in the late '30s), but there were no equivalent English-language versions.
The Laurel and Hardy films in Spanish were extremely successful in Argentina. In fact, LADRONES was the very first film from a major studio to be released in Spanish in the country, and it was by far more successful than the very few domestic productions. Their success was probably the biggest in the history of film and audiences were eagerly expecting them to the point that when these productions were abandoned their popularity went somehow down. All the studios did a few Spanish language productions (including some talkie remakes of silents), with Paramount going from big failure to another until they got Carlos Gardel. The Fox Film Corporation produced a series of original productions in Spanish that, except for the late Bob Dickson, Juan Heinink, and me, recovered a lot of information about them.
Well, there were some foreign versions stlll being shot of American features after 1932, especially where studios had stars with real international appeal. Fox made a French-language version of CARAVAN in 1934 with Charles Boyer, and both Paramount and Twentieth Century made french-language versions of their Maurice Chevalier vehicles into 1935.
Charley Chase also did some french-language versions of his 1930-31 shorts, but Roach mostly kept Laurel and Hardy cranking out as many as five different language versions of their first feature PARDON US. I think these multiple versions led to some of the developing rancor between Stan Laurel who felt like he and Babe were being overworked to make multiple versions without extra recompense.
I bought a LAUREL AND HARDY collection from Europe which includes everything including a Charlie Chase comedy in which they appear only for a few seconds. Also have the wonderful FLICKER ALLEY RESTORATIONS which are a tremendous gift.
It's remarkable how well they work together once it was understood they were a hot pairing.
The movies and the media with their gross exaggeration of the effects of drugs did much to make them attractive. Still do.
People complain about DVD and Blu-ray prices. Not me. I vividly remember paying much more for a single reel short on 16mm not to mention two reelers and features many of which had picture and sound quality not comparable to the wonderful restorations I'm getting now.
Some of those foreign language versions are included in the set.
Life may not be getting better with some who are getting older however I'm reaping a rich harvest.
"The hand of God, reaching down into the mire, couldn't elevate one of them to the depths of degradation," spoken by Wally Cook in the movie Nothing Sacred (1937) is a HUGE favourite.
Except for Bob Dickson and Juan Heinink in "Cita en Hollywood", nobody ever read it because it was originally published in Spanish. You can read it now in English in a book called "Hollywood goes Latin" (get it, read it) where it was incorporated and updated with more information, and I was trying to help them with information I was finding. For instance, if a film did not have a Spanish language version, the studios would simultaneously release the English version and the others in another language. But if there was a Spanish language version, the one used was only that one. For that reason, Bela Lugosi's Dracula was not released in Argentina up until 1939 because the Spanish language version was originally released. And there are of course the Carlos Gardel film, all in the public domain now, that were extremely popular, although there is no coverage about them by film historians. I grew up watching them, they have always been accessible because Gardel himself managed to remain relevant even after his tragic death. He is still relevant.
Dan Mercer considers those Edwin Booth recordings:
For whatever might be written about stars of the stage, as for their grace of appearance or movement or their use of gesture or mime, theirs is a vocal art. If there is no record of their voices, then there is only a subjective impression conveyed, which can resonate only with a similar impression remembered by the reader of some other performance, perhaps of the particular actor or perhaps not. Their performances, then, become literary exercises in the Stanislavski "method."
In April, 1888, Edwin Booth had an Edison recording apparatus set up in his rooms at The Players in New York city and made two recordings, one of the famous soliloquy from Act 3, Scene 1 of "Hamlet," the other Othello's speech to the Venetian senate in Act, Scene 3 of "Othello." They were gifts to his daughter, Edwina. He wrote to her shortly after completing them:
"Just here the phonograph expert came with his machine and after listening to several musical examples (very fine), I recited Othello's and Hamlet's speeches for you. I will send them in a day or so. They are both excellent, much more distinct than those you have; but of course it is impossible (for me, at least) to recite with full feeling and warmth of expression in cold blood, as it were; still the effect is nearly perfect."
The recordings were donated to Harvard University in 1935 by the actor's grandson, Edwin Booth Grossman, when they were placed in the Harvard Theatre Collection of Widener Library. What became of the "Hamlet" recording, no one knows. It has never been found. A copy of the "Othello" recording was made, however, with as much of the surface noise of the cylinder removed as was possible with the technology of the time. This is still extant and has been widely circulated on the web, though, so far as I know, no attempt has been made to recover more of the voice as might exist in the original recording.
In a sense, what remains of the Booth voice is a poor thing, his hopes to the contrary. Especially in the first half, it is muted and obscured by pops and crackles, variable in volume, and sometimes inaudible. In another sense, however, it is astounding that we should hear anything of it at all, nearly 137 years after this utterance. Listening to it with the text of the speech open before us helps considerably. We see the words that were being spoken and thus are able to open our minds in anticipation of the sound that will issue forth.
What we hear is the work of a very fine artist, with a mellifluous voice, clear and distinct pronunciation, and a timing and emphasis as rhythmic as that of an ocean wave caressing the shore. The impression we have been given of actors of that period, especially when that period has been recreated, as in films, is of something strident and artificial. In this recording, however, there is a natural quality, not in the sense of everyday speech, for what is being spoken, after all, is verse, but of the words being expressed with such regard for their sound and meaning that there is nothing other than what attends them.
In one respect, however, Booth was incorrect; that is, to his ability to recite in "cold blood," for the speech becomes a living thing as he delivers it, and there is a rising note of emotion in the last couplet which resolves all that went before:
"She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd. And I loved her that she did pity them."
So, for myself, this one existing record of Edwin Booth's voice has greater value than all that has been written about him as a performer, for in this we find the artist himself.
(Part One) Among deans of film scholarship, William M. Drew shines bright. Greenbriar has celebrated his books before, and here he is to shed fresh light on silent voices we CAN hear (via You Tube links). No one knows this era like William, and I thank him for "erudition supplied," as Films in Review used to say:
Dear John,
In regards to your post about recordings of the voices of silent stars who never appeared in talkies, I was somewhat surprised that you listed Mary Miles Minter among those whose voice is likely lost to the ages. The reason for my puzzlement is that since MMM lived into the 1980s and was interviewed a number of times in her last years by writers chronicling the silent era I logically assumed that most of these were probably recorded and it might be possible to hear them online. I did some checking and quickly located a couple of excerpts of Mary being interviewed in 1970 by Charles Higham. Fortunately, Mary does almost all the talking. Here is part 1 in which she recalls William Desmond Taylor's death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YYjBrLJpyc Here is part 2 in which Mary describes her meeting with Mabel Normand after Taylor's death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB2kAt-Ymkc To be sure, these were recordings made long after the silent era and you might still be wondering what Mary Miles Minter sounded like when she was a young girl and a major star at the height of her career. I had thought it might be as remote a possibility that we could ever hear her voice in those innocent days before the Taylor scandal as that we could find a recording of Mabel Normand's voice. However, I was quickly proven wrong as, remarkably, I found a recording of her voice in 1920 at the age of 18 (not 20 as this YouTube uploading incorrectly stated.) Here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JhYUUIS3EA Despite the 50 years separating 1920 from 1970, it is still recognizably the same voice. To the list of silent stars whose lost voices I'd like to hear, please add Florence La Badie and Barbara LaMarr who, like Olive Thomas, died long before talkies and have also attracted a good deal of attention in recent years as well as Robert Harron, the star of many Griffith classics who likewise died young years before the coming of sound.
To me, the elephant in the room in your post was not mentioning the voice of Pearl White as possibly being lost to time. Given all the years and much else that I invested in bringing her life to the public, I believe strongly that she needs all the publicity she can garner whether my book is specifically mentioned or not. Pearl lived a little over a decade after talkies were introduced. Far from being a forgotten recluse, she remained reasonably visible in the public eye including a well-publicized visit to the United States in 1937 a year before her death at 49. But are there any recordings of her voice from that time? As of now and despite my many years of research, I honestly don't know. My book on Pearl began in 2003 as a projected documentary for the now sadly long-departed Timeline Films which produced so many notable documentaries on silent stars in the 1990s and the 2000s. Had this documentary come to fruition, it is likely we would have undertaken a thorough-going search for recordings of Pearl's voice, both in the US and France. Based on my own search over the years, it seems unlikely that there are any recordings of Pearl's voice in America. She left for France at the end of 1922 and made only three return visits to the US in 1924, 1927 and 1937. Given the rather primitive state of radio in 1924 and 1927 and the fact that there is no record of her having appeared on the air, it's unlikely there would be any American recordings of her from that time. 1937, however, was the heyday of the golden age of bigtime radio. As this last visit was much more publicized than the earlier ones, it might have seemed much more likely that she was interviewed on the radio but again, nothing of the sort has surfaced. It is much more likely that her voice might have been recorded in France, her principal residence for the last 16 years of her life. There might possibly be French archives which have recordings of her voice, whether for radio broadcasts, sound newsreels, talkie tests which she reportedly made in the '30s, or private sessions of one kind or another. Indeed, there is one French newsreel website which has a film of her in 1933. Unfortunately, I was not able to access the actual film so I don't know if she spoke some words in it or was merely seen visually.
None of this, however, was absolutely essential to the writing of my book so I let it pass. Had the documentary I proposed come to fruition, then I am sure that there would have been the collective will and financing of the production to determine if there were any known recordings of Pearl's voice that could be used in the film. Olive Thomas was another silent star whose voice I wish we could hear. I was a consultant on Timeline's excellent documentary on her but clearly, if there had been any recordings of her voice, I think it would have found its way into the film. John Bunny is still another whose voice I wish we could hear (he was reportedly very good at dialects in all the years he was on the stage), but, again, no one seems to have invited him to make a record. As for my current prospects, as much as I would like to embark on new writing projects, I would say these days I'm more preoccupied with salvaging what I have published since my first articles appeared in 1978 than taking up my pen for new books or even articles. A number of my online articles have recently wound up in the Wayback Machine while my two books containing my interviews with major actresses of the Golden Years, Speaking of Silents and At the Center of the Frame, are now out of print. Needless to say, I want them back in print. In addition, I would like to find a publisher who would bring out a revised edition of Mr. Griffith's House with Closed Shutters incorporating new information I've since discovered. In any case, I hope you will find the recordings of Mary Miles Minter's voice of interest. And if you have any suggestion about how I can keep my work in film history continually available to the public, I'd very much appreciate it.
Dan Mercer on William M. Drew's voice discoveries:
This is such a pleasant discovery, the voice of Mary Miles Minter, just 18 years of age. Thank you, Mr. Drew.
It seems to complement her image perfectly, with that soft drawl from a time when voices portrayed regions and backgrounds and well as personalities. Hers suggests a certain sweetness, whether affected or not, which must have enchanted those of her fans who heard it. I know that it takes me back to my own college days, when voices such as hers were the musical accompaniment to what I was discovering of life, as to love and romance.
13 Comments:
Is it safe to say sight comics were most liked worldwide of all film performers, silent or sound?
Right you are, John. Chaplin in the teens and twenties, Laurel & Hardy and Buster Keaton for decades. I might even stretch a point for The Three Stooges, whose shorts were released in silent form for the home-movie market. The tradition extends to Rowan Atkinson's Mr. Bean in the nineties (shown as in-flight entertainment on international flights long after its TV run).
There are some double-length Charley Chase shorts on the Roach DVDs, which benefit from his ability to speak (and sing) in Spanish. Did he do any other languages?
Worth noting that multiple language versions were a two-way street, with Hollywood remaking foreign hits and sometimes importing stars.
When did dubbing and subtitles take root as preferred practice? Did foreign audiences find these better or worse?
Did foreign audiences find these better or worse?
Hal Roach said that his multiple-language versions were extremely popular and he made lots of money from them. The international exchanges would complain to MGM: "Why should we take your pictures with subtitles when we can get pictures with spoken dialogue from Roach?" MGM asked Roach to stop making the international versions because they were hurting the company.
After 1932 the studios would make foreign-language features specifically for certain markets (for example, George Hirliman produced a series of Spanish-speaking musicals for MGM release in the late '30s), but there were no equivalent English-language versions.
The Laurel and Hardy films in Spanish were extremely successful in Argentina. In fact, LADRONES was the very first film from a major studio to be released in Spanish in the country, and it was by far more successful than the very few domestic productions. Their success was probably the biggest in the history of film and audiences were eagerly expecting them to the point that when these productions were abandoned their popularity went somehow down. All the studios did a few Spanish language productions (including some talkie remakes of silents), with Paramount going from big failure to another until they got Carlos Gardel. The Fox Film Corporation produced a series of original productions in Spanish that, except for the late Bob Dickson, Juan Heinink, and me, recovered a lot of information about them.
Well, there were some foreign versions stlll being shot of American features after 1932, especially where studios had stars with real international appeal. Fox made a French-language version of CARAVAN in 1934 with Charles Boyer, and both Paramount and Twentieth Century made french-language versions of their Maurice Chevalier vehicles into 1935.
Charley Chase also did some french-language versions of his 1930-31 shorts, but Roach mostly kept Laurel and Hardy cranking out as many as five different language versions of their first feature PARDON US. I think these multiple versions led to some of the developing rancor between Stan Laurel who felt like he and Babe were being overworked to make multiple versions without extra recompense.
RICHARD M ROBERTS
I bought a LAUREL AND HARDY collection from Europe which includes everything including a Charlie Chase comedy in which they appear only for a few seconds. Also have the wonderful FLICKER ALLEY RESTORATIONS which are a tremendous gift.
It's remarkable how well they work together once it was understood they were a hot pairing.
The movies and the media with their gross exaggeration of the effects of drugs did much to make them attractive. Still do.
People complain about DVD and Blu-ray prices. Not me. I vividly remember paying much more for a single reel short on 16mm not to mention two reelers and features many of which had picture and sound quality not comparable to the wonderful restorations I'm getting now.
Some of those foreign language versions are included in the set.
Life may not be getting better with some who are getting older however I'm reaping a rich harvest.
"The hand of God, reaching down into the mire, couldn't elevate one of them to the depths of degradation," spoken by Wally Cook in the movie Nothing Sacred (1937) is a HUGE favourite.
Except for Bob Dickson and Juan Heinink in "Cita en Hollywood", nobody ever read it because it was originally published in Spanish. You can read it now in English in a book called "Hollywood goes Latin" (get it, read it) where it was incorporated and updated with more information, and I was trying to help them with information I was finding. For instance, if a film did not have a Spanish language version, the studios would simultaneously release the English version and the others in another language. But if there was a Spanish language version, the one used was only that one. For that reason, Bela Lugosi's Dracula was not released in Argentina up until 1939 because the Spanish language version was originally released. And there are of course the Carlos Gardel film, all in the public domain now, that were extremely popular, although there is no coverage about them by film historians. I grew up watching them, they have always been accessible because Gardel himself managed to remain relevant even after his tragic death. He is still relevant.
Dan Mercer considers those Edwin Booth recordings:
For whatever might be written about stars of the stage, as for their grace of appearance or movement or their use of gesture or mime, theirs is a vocal art. If there is no record of their voices, then there is only a subjective impression conveyed, which can resonate only with a similar impression remembered by the reader of some other performance, perhaps of the particular actor or perhaps not. Their performances, then, become literary exercises in the Stanislavski "method."
In April, 1888, Edwin Booth had an Edison recording apparatus set up in his rooms at The Players in New York city and made two recordings, one of the famous soliloquy from Act 3, Scene 1 of "Hamlet," the other Othello's speech to the Venetian senate in Act, Scene 3 of "Othello." They were gifts to his daughter, Edwina. He wrote to her shortly after completing them:
"Just here the phonograph expert came with his machine and after listening to several musical examples (very fine), I recited Othello's and Hamlet's speeches for you. I will send them in a day or so. They are both excellent, much more distinct than those you have; but of course it is impossible (for me, at least) to recite with full feeling and warmth of expression in cold blood, as it were; still the effect is nearly perfect."
The recordings were donated to Harvard University in 1935 by the actor's grandson, Edwin Booth Grossman, when they were placed in the Harvard Theatre Collection of Widener Library. What became of the "Hamlet" recording, no one knows. It has never been found. A copy of the "Othello" recording was made, however, with as much of the surface noise of the cylinder removed as was possible with the technology of the time. This is still extant and has been widely circulated on the web, though, so far as I know, no attempt has been made to recover more of the voice as might exist in the original recording.
In a sense, what remains of the Booth voice is a poor thing, his hopes to the contrary. Especially in the first half, it is muted and obscured by pops and crackles, variable in volume, and sometimes inaudible. In another sense, however, it is astounding that we should hear anything of it at all, nearly 137 years after this utterance. Listening to it with the text of the speech open before us helps considerably. We see the words that were being spoken and thus are able to open our minds in anticipation of the sound that will issue forth.
What we hear is the work of a very fine artist, with a mellifluous voice, clear and distinct pronunciation, and a timing and emphasis as rhythmic as that of an ocean wave caressing the shore. The impression we have been given of actors of that period, especially when that period has been recreated, as in films, is of something strident and artificial. In this recording, however, there is a natural quality, not in the sense of everyday speech, for what is being spoken, after all, is verse, but of the words being expressed with such regard for their sound and meaning that there is nothing other than what attends them.
In one respect, however, Booth was incorrect; that is, to his ability to recite in "cold blood," for the speech becomes a living thing as he delivers it, and there is a rising note of emotion in the last couplet which resolves all that went before:
"She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd. And I loved her that she did pity them."
So, for myself, this one existing record of Edwin Booth's voice has greater value than all that has been written about him as a performer, for in this we find the artist himself.
(Part One) Among deans of film scholarship, William M. Drew shines bright. Greenbriar has celebrated his books before, and here he is to shed fresh light on silent voices we CAN hear (via You Tube links). No one knows this era like William, and I thank him for "erudition supplied," as Films in Review used to say:
Dear John,
In regards to your post about recordings of the voices of silent stars who never appeared in talkies, I was somewhat surprised that you listed Mary Miles Minter among those whose voice is likely lost to the ages. The reason for my puzzlement is that since MMM lived into the 1980s and was interviewed a number of times in her last years by writers chronicling the silent era I logically assumed that most of these were probably recorded and it might be possible to hear them online. I did some checking and quickly located a couple of excerpts of Mary being interviewed in 1970 by Charles Higham. Fortunately, Mary does almost all the talking. Here is part 1 in which she recalls William Desmond Taylor's death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YYjBrLJpyc
Here is part 2 in which Mary describes her meeting with Mabel Normand after Taylor's death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB2kAt-Ymkc
To be sure, these were recordings made long after the silent era and you might still be wondering what Mary Miles Minter sounded like when she was a young girl and a major star at the height of her career. I had thought it might be as remote a possibility that we could ever hear her voice in those innocent days before the Taylor scandal as that we could find a recording of Mabel Normand's voice. However, I was quickly proven wrong as, remarkably, I found a recording of her voice in 1920 at the age of 18 (not 20 as this YouTube uploading incorrectly stated.) Here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JhYUUIS3EA Despite the 50 years separating 1920 from 1970, it is still recognizably the same voice. To the list of silent stars whose lost voices I'd like to hear, please add Florence La Badie and Barbara LaMarr who, like Olive Thomas, died long before talkies and have also attracted a good deal of attention in recent years as well as Robert Harron, the star of many Griffith classics who likewise died young years before the coming of sound.
Part Two from William M. Drew:
To me, the elephant in the room in your post was not mentioning the voice of Pearl White as possibly being lost to time. Given all the years and much else that I invested in bringing her life to the public, I believe strongly that she needs all the publicity she can garner whether my book is specifically mentioned or not. Pearl lived a little over a decade after talkies were introduced. Far from being a forgotten recluse, she remained reasonably visible in the public eye including a well-publicized visit to the United States in 1937 a year before her death at 49. But are there any recordings of her voice from that time? As of now and despite my many years of research, I honestly don't know.
My book on Pearl began in 2003 as a projected documentary for the now sadly long-departed Timeline Films which produced so many notable documentaries on silent stars in the 1990s and the 2000s. Had this documentary come to fruition, it is likely we would have undertaken a thorough-going search for recordings of Pearl's voice, both in the US and France. Based on my own search over the years, it seems unlikely that there are any recordings of Pearl's voice in America. She left for France at the end of 1922 and made only three return visits to the US in 1924, 1927 and 1937. Given the rather primitive state of radio in 1924 and 1927 and the fact that there is no record of her having appeared on the air, it's unlikely there would be any American recordings of her from that time. 1937, however, was the heyday of the golden age of bigtime radio. As this last visit was much more publicized than the earlier ones, it might have seemed much more likely that she was interviewed on the radio but again, nothing of the sort has surfaced.
It is much more likely that her voice might have been recorded in France, her principal residence for the last 16 years of her life. There might possibly be French archives which have recordings of her voice, whether for radio broadcasts, sound newsreels, talkie tests which she reportedly made in the '30s, or private sessions of one kind or another. Indeed, there is one French newsreel website which has a film of her in 1933. Unfortunately, I was not able to access the actual film so I don't know if she spoke some words in it or was merely seen visually.
Part Three from William M. Drew:
None of this, however, was absolutely essential to the writing of my book so I let it pass. Had the documentary I proposed come to fruition, then I am sure that there would have been the collective will and financing of the production to determine if there were any known recordings of Pearl's voice that could be used in the film.
Olive Thomas was another silent star whose voice I wish we could hear. I was a consultant on Timeline's excellent documentary on her but clearly, if there had been any recordings of her voice, I think it would have found its way into the film. John Bunny is still another whose voice I wish we could hear (he was reportedly very good at dialects in all the years he was on the stage), but, again, no one seems to have invited him to make a record.
As for my current prospects, as much as I would like to embark on new writing projects, I would say these days I'm more preoccupied with salvaging what I have published since my first articles appeared in 1978 than taking up my pen for new books or even articles. A number of my online articles have recently wound up in the Wayback Machine while my two books containing my interviews with major actresses of the Golden Years, Speaking of Silents and At the Center of the Frame, are now out of print. Needless to say, I want them back in print. In addition, I would like to find a publisher who would bring out a revised edition of Mr. Griffith's House with Closed Shutters incorporating new information I've since discovered.
In any case, I hope you will find the recordings of Mary Miles Minter's voice of interest. And if you have any suggestion about how I can keep my work in film history continually available to the public, I'd very much appreciate it.
Warmest regards,
William M. Drew
Dan Mercer on William M. Drew's voice discoveries:
This is such a pleasant discovery, the voice of Mary Miles Minter, just 18 years of age. Thank you, Mr. Drew.
It seems to complement her image perfectly, with that soft drawl from a time when voices portrayed regions and backgrounds and well as personalities. Hers suggests a certain sweetness, whether affected or not, which must have enchanted those of her fans who heard it. I know that it takes me back to my own college days, when voices such as hers were the musical accompaniment to what I was discovering of life, as to love and romance.
Thanks again.
Post a Comment
<< Home