Stubs - The First Auto

The First Auto (1927) starring Barney Oldfield, Patsy Ruth Miller, Charles Emmett Mack, Russell Simpson. Directed by Roy Del Ruth. Screenplay by Anthony Coldeway, Jack Jarmuth. Produced by Darryl F. Zanuck. Run time: 75 minutes. Black and White. USA. Silent with sound, Drama.

Made at a time when Hollywood, specifically in this case, Warner Bros., was experimenting with synchronized sound, the beginning of the end of the silent era, the studio was making a film about the end of the horse as the main mode of transportation, The First Auto. The synchronized sound, captured on a disc synchronized with the film, included music, sound effects and a few spoken words.

Stubs - The Jazz Singer (1927)

The Jazz Singer (1927) Starring Al Jolson, May McAvoy, Warner Oland, Yosselle Rosenblatt (credited as Cantor Rosenblatt). Directed by Alan Crosland. Written by Alfred A. Cohn (scenario) and Jack Jarmuth (titles). Based on the play The Jazz Singer by Samson Raphaelson, which is based on his own short story "The Day of Atonement". Produced by Daryl F. Zanuck. Black and White. U.S.A. Silent/Sound, Drama, Musical

On April 25, 1917, a young University of Illinois graduate Samson Raphaelson attended the musical Robinson Crusoe, Jr. in Champaign, Illinois and was immediately impressed with the show’s star, who was singing in blackface, Al Jolson. Raphaelson could not take his eyes off the Russian-born Jew on stage, telling Everybody’s Magazine in 1927: "I shall never forget the first five minutes of Jolson—his velocity, the amazing fluidity with which he shifted from a tremendous absorption in his audience to a tremendous absorption in his song." He compared the intensity of the experience to the one Raphaelson had seen with synagogue cantors.

Al Jolson in Robinson Crusoe Jr., the play that inspired Samson
Raphaelson to write the short story "A Day of Atonement."

So moved was Raphaelson by the experience that he eventually wrote the short story, A Day of Atonement, basing its lead character Jakie Rabinowitz on the life of Al Jolson. He would later adapt his own short story into a dramatic play, The Jazz Singer which ran on Broadway for 303 performances starting on September 14, 1925, had a Jewish Vaudeville comedian in the lead role, George "Georgie" Jessel.

When the Warner Brothers were looking for a property to make into a film, they chose The Jazz Singer and brought Jessel out to Hollywood to star in the picture. Following the success of their film Don Juan (1926) with its synchronized music and sound effects, and in desperate financial need for a hit, the Warners decided on turning The Jazz Singer into a part-talkie.

They also decided to change the play’s ending slightly, with Jakie returning to the stage at the end. Jessel didn't like the change and the studio, strapped for cash, didn't like Jessel's demands for a bonus or a new contract to play the lead, so he was out. Desperate for a leading man, Jack L. Warner and his production chief Daryl F. Zanuck turned to another Jewish Broadway by way of Vaudeville performer, Eddie Cantor. But Cantor was hoping to help the studio reconcile their differences with Jessel. The studio looked else where and offered the part to the then forty-one-year-old performer whom the whole story was based on: Al Jolson.

The film opens with a written prologue: "In every living soul, a spirit cries for expression--perhaps this plaintive, wailing song of Jazz is, after all, the misunderstood utterance of a prayer."

Turn of the 20th Century New York City at the corner of Hester and Orchard
 Streets, where the film opens.

It is the turn of the 20^th century New York City. Cantor Rabinowitz (Warner Oland) is speaking with his wife Sara (Eugenie Besserer) about their son, Jakie (Bobby Gordon). The Cantor expects their son to follow him, in what has become a family profession, Cantor. He is looking forward to Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, when Jakie will make his debut, so to speak, singing "Kol Nidre," a traditional hymn.

Meanwhile, as they’re talking, Jakie is already working on a singing career, but far from a religious calling; he is singing at a saloon. This is noticed by the neighborhood “kibitzer”, Moisha Yudelson (Otto Lederer). [Note: A kibitzer is someone who, according to Meriam Webster: looks on and often offers unwanted advice or comment.]

Moisha rushes out of the saloon straight to inform the Cantor, who goes to the saloon and drags Jakie off stage and back home. The cantor is strict and, even when the mother pleads her son’s case, decides the only just punishment is a whipping. Apparently this isn’t the first time and Jakie threatens to run away and never come back if he’s beaten again. But as the mother listens through the door, the cantor whips his son. And true to his word, Jakie runs away. The Cantor is adamant that if Jakie isn’t singing with him that night, then he has no son.

Jakie (Bobby Gordon) keeps his promise and runs away after his father, Cantor Rabinowitz
(Warner Oland) beats him. His mother, Sara (Eugenie Besserer) is helpless to stop her husband.

While the Cantor sings the Kol Nidre for Yom Kippur and his mother is in the synagogue, Jakie sneaks back into their apartment, only taking with him a framed photo of his mother.

The Cantor sings Kol Nidre for Yom Kippur.

Years pass and Jakie (Al Jolson) has grown up to be a singer. We see him eating to the music of the band at Coffee Dan's restaurant, before he is introduced by the club owner. Suddenly, the film has synched sound as Jakie sings the poignant “Dirty Hands, Dirty Face,” an overly melodramatic song about a father’s love for his sometimes troublesome son.

Jakie (Al Jolson) promises his audience "You ain't heard nothin' yet!"

The audience, of course, loves Jakie and he tells them, those famous lines that would change filmmaking forever, “Wait a minute, wait a minute, you ain't heard nothin' yet! Wait a minute, I tell ya! You ain't heard nothin'!” He then launches into another crowd pleaser, the upbeat “Toot, Toot, Tootsie!”. In the audience is a vaudeville dancer, Mary Dale (May McAvoy), who, like everyone else, hammers her table with a gavel to show her approval.

She “speaks” to him afterward, remarking that he has a tear in his voice, something which other jazz singers do not. Mary even goes so far as to get him a job in her troupe.

Time passes and Jakie has changed his name to Jack Robin. While performing in Chicago, he takes in a concert of sacred songs given by famed Cantor Josef Rosenblatt, and is deeply moved. Jack continues to write home to his mother, of course, boasting of his success. Moisha comes by to read the letters to her without his father knowing, because the two never have reconciled.

Jack, meanwhile, has grown to love Mary and is saddened when he learns she is leaving the troupe for a chance to appear on Broadway. [Note: One of the two show dancers we see watching Mary and Jack is none other than Myrna Loy.]

Before they were stars: Myrna Loy plays a dancer backstage during The Jazz Singer.

Jack continues with the show and has become the headliner, but one day when he’s about to get aboard the train to the next town, his manager stops him. He tells him that New York has decided he’s not to go on with the troupe. Jack is, of course, heartbroken to hear that, until his manager informs him that he’s been offered a part in a Broadway show.

Broadway means going home to New York and Jack is thrilled with the prospect. First stop is to see his mother, who is also preparing for the Cantor’s 60^th birthday, apparently back when this was considered old. Everyone who buys the Cantor a gift, including Jack, buys him a prayer shawl.

Jack sings for his mother when he comes home for a visit.

Mother is over-joyed at the reunion and Jack talks big about what the future will bring, promising to move his family to the beautiful Bronx, where other Jewish families have apparently settled, and to buy her a pink dress, something that would be a luxury compared to her rather limited wardrobe. Jack sits down at the piano and starts to sing his mother a song when father enters. He is not happy to see Jack and even furious to hear his son singing jazz songs in his house. A furious argument ensues and the Cantor orders him out, going so far as to tell his son, "I never want to see you again — you jazz singer!"

Father kicks his son out of his house, calling him a "jazz singer".

Yom Kippur comes and Cantor Rabinowitz is too ill to sing the Kol Nidre in temple. He dreams of his son singing in his place. Moisha goes down to the theatre where the show, April Follies, is in rehearsal, to see Jack. He tells him about his father and asks him to replace his father at temple. But Jack refuses; his life is in the theater now.

But Moisha is not through. The day of the final dress rehearsal with Jack already in blackface, Moisha brings his mother down to the theater to plead with Jack to reconsider. But Mary, playing a sort of devil’s advocate here, reminds Jack that he once told her that his career meant more to him than anything, even her. Jack refused to leave dress rehearsal and goes out on stage. Watching from the wings, Mother realizes that Jack has moved on, "Here he belongs. If God wanted him in His house, He would have kept him there. He's not my boy anymore—he belongs to the whole world now."

Jack returns home and forces his way past the nurse to kneel down by his father’s bed. The Cantor finally comes around and tells his son that he loves him. Mother suggests that it might help his father heal if he could hear Jack singing at the service. Just then, Mary and the show’s producer arrive. The producer tells Jack that if he doesn’t go on opening night, his career on Broadway will be over.

With his father dying, Jack is presented with a tough choice, feeling the pull of
Broadway represented by Mary (May McAvoy) and the show's producer on one side
 and tradition, represented by Moisha (Otto Lerder) and mother, on the other. 

But Jack does what’s in his heart and sings at the Yom Kippur service with Mary in the audience. Since they live next door to the synagogue, the Cantor can hear his son’s voice. He dies a happy man thereafter.

Jack defies the producer and does what his heart tells him to do.

And even though the show’s opening had to be cancelled, Jack still becomes a major star. When next we see him, he is the featured player at the Winter Garden in a show called Back Room. He opens the show, again in blackface, singing "Mammy" as his mother and Moisha sit in the front row, and Mary happily watches from the wings.

Jack wows the audience as he sings "Mammy" in blackface.

The Jazz Singer opened in New York on October 6, 1927 to coincide with Yom Kippur, around which most of the plot revolves. None of the Warner Brothers were able to make the premiere as Sam Warner, the biggest advocate of sound films, had died the previous day of pneumonia.

The presentation of the 89-minute film required 15 reels and fifteen discs, with each musical number on a different reel. The projectionist had to not only thread the film, but also synch the accompanying disc.

With so much riding on this film, there was great relief when it not only went off without a hitch, but turned into quite the sensation. The Jazz Singer became the biggest film in Warner Bros. history with $3.9 million at the domestic box-office. The film was only the second largest grossing film that year, being beat out by Paramount’s Wings (1927), which brought in $4.3 million. [Wings, along with Fox's Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans,would also win best picture, with The Jazz Singer being ruled ineligible because the Academy thought it would have been unfair competition for the silent pictures under consideration. The Jazz Singer would win a special Academy Award for Warner Bros. and Zanuck "for producing The Jazz Singer, the pioneer outstanding talking picture, which has revolutionized the industry".]

After this film, everything in Hollywood would change. Audiences wanted only sound pictures and every studio had to revamp their productions to accommodate. Livelihoods would be changed after The Jazz Singer. If you didn’t have a good speaking voice, you were through. [To see how this film affected Hollywood, I would recommend seeing Singin’ In the Rain (1952) or The Artist (2011), both of which have stories revolving around this transition.] Now sound was all the rage, and by mid-1929 the studios were almost exclusively making sound pictures. Chaplin was a noteable holdout, releasing the silent City Lights in 1931. European filmmakers would also transition to sound by the end of 1930.

While audiences were interested in the “novelty” of talkies, The Jazz Singer was also so profitable as it was because Warner Bros. changed the agreement with exhibitors as well. The film had to be booked for full rather than split weeks and the studio introduced a new financial arrangement with the theaters. Instead of taking a flat fee, Warner Bros took a percentage of the boxoffice. A sliding scale meant that the longer the film remained in theaters, the bigger the theater’s percent of the take. This virtually guaranteed long runs for the film.

Al Jolson is a force of nature, one of those performers who is on all the time. Jolson clearly likes the limelight; he comes across as one of those extroverts that have a hole in their soul that only applause can fill. And I know Hollywood is filled with those types of people, it just seems more pronounced in his performance in The Jazz Singer. I can’t say that he’s my cup of tea. His act seems dated and I’m not just referring to the minstrel show he always seems to be doing in this film. At the time this film was made, that was part of the culture and though it seems shameful now, it was an acceptable way to make a living. I don’t pretend to understand it, but I’m not going to criticize the past against our modern mores.

For the most part, Jolson is the only one we actually hear in the film. There are few snippets of Eugenie Besserer speaking, but only as it relates to Jolson. The film clearly revolves around him, as it should be, since he was who the story was written about in the first place. But the other actors come across more as set pieces than as real people. May McAvoy was no stranger to Hollywood, having been in Ben-Hur (1925), the epic that put MGM on the map. But here she is pretty much a prop for Jolson to act around.

Swedish born Warner Oland was a gifted character actor, who would later go on to greater fame as Oriental detective Charlie Chan in 16 films at Fox. You wouldn’t know by looking at him in this film that he was only about seven years older than Jolson. Still, his performance is very one note until the inevitable deathbed confession of love for his son.

One of the things that doesn’t work as well as you would hope is when the film transitions between synched sound and silent. In the scene that follows Jolson’s first sound performance, the silent section seems sped up and unreal. These sort of jolting transitions are all through the film. Perhaps they were overlooked when the film first hit the theaters, but now they seem very jarring.

The Jazz Singer is one of those stories that Hollywood has returned to more than once. Two other versions of the film have been made, including a 1952 version starring Danny Thomas and Peggy Lee and a 1980’s version starring Neil Diamond, Laurence Olivier and Lucie Arnaz. Neither subsequent version would have the same impact as the original.

Despite the historical significance of the film, The Jazz Singer is almost like a silent musical with some songs thrown in. And in comparison to William Wellman's Wings and F. W. Murnau's Sunrise, films which clearly demonstrate how far silent filmmaking had come artistically, The Jazz Singer is sort of a step back. With few exceptions, most scenes are shot indoors and the action is reduced to Jolson’s swaying hips as he moves to the beat of the music. Compared with Wings, The Jazz Singer seems almost claustrophobic.

From a historical point of view, The Jazz Singer is sort of a must-watch. This is the film that you can point to as a landmark and a cultural shift. Things, as they say, would never be the same after this one. But knowing that might not be enough. While I’m happy that I finally saw it, I can’t say that it is really a great film nor could I recommend it except to the most hardcore of film buffs. Sometimes, as in the case of The Jazz Singer, historically significant doesn’t mean it’s a good film.

Stubs – London After Midnight

London After Midnight (1927) Starring: Lon Chaney, Marceline Day, Henry B. Walthall, Percy Williams, Conrad Nagel. Directed by Tod Browning. Screenplay by Waldemar Young. Based on the story The Hypnotist by Tod Browning. Produced by Tod Browning. Run Time: 65 minutes (as seen 45 minutes). U.S. Black and White, Silent, Horror.

It’s not often that a lost film is resurrected. There have been some notable exceptions when films thought to be lost have been found and made whole again. Wings (1927) is an example of a film made whole when all seemed lost and they kept finding bits and pieces of Metropolis (1927) as they restored that masterpiece. Sadly, though, there are thousands of films that have been lost, 70% of all silents, and will never be made whole again.

Such is the fate of London After Midnight, Tod Browning’s first foray into vampire films; he would later direct Dracula (1931) for Universal Pictures. The last known print of the film burned in a vault fire at MGM in 1967. The electrical fire in Vault #7 on May 13 destroyed hundreds of silent films, including pre-1924 films from Metro Pictures, Goldwyn Pictures and Louis B. Mayer Pictures Corporation, as well as the silent Our Gang shorts from 1927-1929 and all the film prints of pre-1960 MGM Cartoons, including Tom and Jerry and cartoons by Tex Avery.

Some films survive only in memory and others have been found in private collections. But some films refuse to go gently into that good night and hang on in one form or another. In the case of London After Midnight, a version of the film was reconstructed in 2002 by Rick Schmidlin, a film preservationist who was behind the re-edited version of Erich von Stroheim’s Greed (1924) and Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil (1958). Using a collection of stills, as well as the continuity script held by the Library of Congress, Schmidlin and crew put together a version of the film. Robert Israel, noted composer, wrote a new soundtrack and TCM has been airing this since 2002.

What we have now is a record of the movie, but not the movie itself. The experience of watching “the film” is more like looking very closely at someone’s scrapbook while they tell you in great detail everything that is going on in a particular photo. There is no real acting or reactions between actors, just frozen expressions that on their own lose some of their bite, so to speak.

The film was shot in 24 days on a budget of $152,000; the shortest schedule and lowest budget of any of Lon Chaney’s MGM films.

Roger Balfour (Claude King) is found shot dead in his London home late one night. Within fifteen minutes, at 1:08 AM, Inspector Burke of Scotland Yard (Lon Chaney) is already at the scene asking questions. There is Sir James Hamlin (Henry B. Walthall), Balfour’s neighbor, friend and the executor of his estate; Williams (Percy Williams), the Butler who discovered the body; Sir James’ nephew, Arthur Hibbs (Conrad Nagel), who was next door in his reading room; and Balfour’s daughter Lucille (Marceline Day). There is a brief suicide note, “I am taking my own life. Forgive me, Lucille” and Burke declares it a suicide, even though Hamlin insists his friend would never take his own life.

Inspector Burke of Scotland Yard (Lon Chaney) is called in to investigate Balfour's death.

Five years pass and a creepy man with long hair and sharp teeth, known as The Man in the Beaver Hat (Lon Chaney) and Luna (Edna Tichenor) a pale woman in a long gown, also known as Bat Girl, rent the Balfour estate. The Man in the Beaver Hat tells the leasing agent (Allan Cavan) that they are moving in that night and are already expecting guests.

The Man in the Beaver Hat (Lon Chaney) leases the Balfour estate.

Smithson (Polly Moran), Hamlin’s new maid, is the first to see the couple and reports to her boss that the Balfour’s house is haunted and that the new residences are “dead people from the grave! Vampires is what they are!”

The maid, Smithson (Polly Moran), is the first to see the new neighbors.

Alarmed by his new sinister-looking neighbors, Hamlin calls in Burke to investigate, who comes to stay at the house. Also living in the Hamlin household are the other people who were present in Balfour's house the night he died: Arthur Hibbs, Lucille, and the butler.

Lucy (Marceline Day) five years after Balfour's death.

Hamlin insists to that these new neighbors might have been involved in Balfour’s murder, but Burke expresses skepticism about the idea, since the death was declared a suicide. But Hamlin has a copy of their lease and it is signed by Roger Balfour, whose signature he’s very familiar with.

Further, Lucille tells Sir James and Burke that she’s been hearing her father’s voice calling out to her from the garden. They tell her that they’ll take care of it, but later, Sir James tells Burke that he won’t be satisfied until he sees that Balfour is in his tomb. The two investigate and find that the tomb is indeed empty.

Meanwhile, Arthur reads up about vampires (or as they’re spelled vampyrs) and learns that when they sleep during the day, they will sometimes take the form of bats. “As such, they seek sleep in the seclusions of spots accursed.” He shows this to Burke and tells him that after what happened tonight, “I do believe in vampires!” To which Burke responds that “This is all ancient tommyrot!”

Their discussion is cut short when Smithson screams and it is discovered that she’s locked Lucy up in a closet. She explains that she did this to protect her after she was confronted by the Man in the Beaver Hat in Sir James’ house. She describes him as having wings like a bat and threatening her. Smithson’s scream is what scared him away and adds “And out of the window ‘e flew!”

The Man in the Beaver Hat scares Smithson.

Outside they all see the Bat Girl and the back of the man. Smithson is convinced more than ever that the man is a vampire. Sir James wants to call for the police to arrest everyone in the Balfour house, but Burke doesn’t want the police involved.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Lucy realize they are in love since she turned to him when she was in danger.

Arthur (Conrad Nagel) and Lucy realize they are in love.

The next morning, Burke and Hamlin go into the Balfour mansion. The house shows five years of neglect, with dust everywhere, paintings askew and the furniture still covered. But there is no one there. The only living creature they find is a bat. They flee.

The bat in the Balfour mansion.

Later, Burke tells Lucy that her father’s death was not a suicide and asks her to trust him and to keep the secret from everyone. She agrees.

When Arthur asks her what Burke said, she tells him she can’t tell him. Arthur doesn’t trust Burke, since he wouldn’t bring in the police the night before and worries that Lucy is under his spell. Lucy blurts out that Burke thinks someone killed her father.

That night, lights and strange noises herald the return of the tenants to the Balfour house. Burke and Sir James go to investigate. Looking through the window, they see the Man in the Beaver Hat, his butler (Andy MacLennan) talking to Roger Balfour. In the background, Bat Girl can be seen floating above the floor. Frightened, Burke and Sir James flee from the house.

Wreaths with swords through them are set up by Burke to protect Lucy from the vampires. Burke tells Lucy to obey his instructions. It is made obvious to all that Sir James is holding Lucy’s hands.

Wreaths with swords are used to protect Lucy from the vampires.

Burke and Arthur retire to Burke’s room to talk, where Burke tells the young man that he has long suspected him in Balfour’s death. A hypnotist as well as a detective, Burke puts Arthur into a trance but learns nothing new about Balfour's death.

He leaves Arthur in his room and goes to Arthur’s. In the middle of the night, Burke fires his gun after being attacked in his sleep. He first accuses Williams but lets him go. Sir James wonders what happened to Arthur and Burke adds to that suspicion, again refusing police help and asking Sir James to trust him.

Burke awakens Arthur, who doesn’t know he’s been hypnotized. Next, the three men go to Lucy’s room but find both her and Smithson missing. Lucy is over at her former home. In front of Sir James, Burke accuses Arthur of knowing what happened to Lucy.

Back at the Balfour house, her father is reminding her that she’s doing this for her father. She is given an old dress to wear.

Meanwhile, we see Burke conversing with The Man in the Beaver Hat, telling him they have the nephew and the butler where they want them, all that is left is Sir James.

Burke gives Sir James his gun and instructs him to go next door and ask to speak with Roger Balfour.

Meanwhile, Arthur breaks into the Balfour house in an attempt to rescue Lucille, but he's intercepted by Burke and a couple of detectives and taken away.

Sir James, acting at Burke's instructions, goes to the Balfour house, but is met out front by the beaver-hatted man, who puts him into a hypnotic trance and tells him that it is five years ago and you are at Roger Balfour’s house.

While Smithson and Burke observe, Sir James, under hypnosis, re-creates his actions the night Roger Balfour died, with Lucille and the butler, Williams, playing themselves, and Burke's double playing the part of Balfour.

Balfour has just signed his will naming Sir James the executor of his estate and Lucy’s legal guardian. The obviously smitten Sir James tells Roger that he hopes Lucy will be his wife someday. But Balfour rejects James’ idea of marrying his daughter, thinking the age difference was too great. Sir James leaves. Lucy thinks that eliminates him as a suspect, but Burke wants them to wait.

Balfour's (Claude King) double interacts with The Man in the Beaver Hat.

At 1:10 AM, Sir James returns and forces Balfour to write a suicide note and then shoots him with Burke’s gun. Burke, with police back up, swoops in and arrests Sir James for Balfour’s murder and accuses him of being the one who attacked him in Arthur’s room the night before in an effort to get rid of his rival for Lucy.

Later it is revealed that the man in the beaver hat and pointed teeth was really a disguised Inspector Burke, who was aided at times by a double. Smithson, the new maid, is actually an assistant detective; and the mysterious young woman is a stage performer working for the police.

The mystery of Balfour's death solved, Lucille and Arthur, who have come to realize how much they love each other, are free to marry.

The movie was a big success at the U.S. box office, but foreign books were below average. The film had domestic sales of $721,000 and a gross profit of about $540,000, making it the biggest success of Browning’s ten film collaborations with Chaney and putting it fourth for the studio’s 1927-28 hit list. London After Midnight finished behind White Shadows in the South Seas, The Cossacks and The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg. Critically, however, it was not considered to be their best film together.

Browning must not have been completely satisfied with the film either because 8 years later, he remade the story as Mark of the Vampire (1935). Names and circumstances were changed and the dual parts played by Lon Chaney were split between Lionel Barrymore and Bela Lugosi. That film came late in Browning’s career, which had been derailed by Freaks (1932) and would never recover. I have not seen the remake yet, but all the reviews from the time seem to indicate it is a better film than the original.

While I cannot comment on how well the film is made or acted, since there is really no film anymore, I can see the shortcomings of the story. London After Midnight is really a murder mystery with a horror film laid on top of it. I’m all for mixing genres, but in this case it doesn’t really seem to work all that well. The supernatural bent the story takes is a little out of left field as far as a technique to solve murders. This is so obviously a ploy to showcase Chaney’s makeup abilities, he is the Man of a Thousand Faces after all, but otherwise there is no reason for it. And frankly, the Man in the Beaver Hat looks more like a buzz saw with those sharp teeth, rather than a vampire with fangs.

Adding to the horror quotient, we’re told the Man in the Beaver Hat and Bat Girl are vampires, but short of a bat in the mansion, there really isn’t anything else that suggests it, except for Smithson’s accusation and that she’s in on the plot. And while I think the vampire story doesn’t really go anywhere, it’s the murder mystery that is even more of a head scratcher.

The only person who doesn’t think Balfour’s death was a suicide is the killer. How dumb does he have to be to insist the police investigate a crime he would otherwise get away with? And if Sir James was intent on marrying Lucy that he would kill for the right, why hasn’t he in the five years since her father’s death? As far as can be determined from the film, with the exception of some obvious hand holding, they are not even engaged. What’s Sir James waiting for? Or, perhaps scarier, how young must Lucy be at the beginning of the film?

I’ve heard you can tell how good a song is if it still holds up with only one person playing it on one instrument. In the case of London After Midnight, we’re left with only an illustrated screenplay, without acting and directing to obfuscate the plot holes. In its sort of naked form, the story doesn’t really hold up.

I’m all for preserving our film heritage and I’m happy someone spent the time and money required to bring it this far. I only wish that London After Midnight was as good as the effort they must have put in to its restoration.

In the mood for horror, check out our reviews of other Horror films here.

Stubs - Wings

WINGS (1927) Starring: Clara Bow, Charles “Buddy” Rogers, Richard Arlen and Gary Cooper. Directed by William A. Wellman. Written by Hope Loring, Louis D. Lighton. Story by John Monk Saunders. Produced by Lucien Hubbard, Adolph Zukor, Jesse L. Lasky, B.P. Schulberg, Otto Kahn. Music by J.S. Zamecnik. Run Time: 144 minutes. Color Tinted. U.S.A. Silent, Action, Adventure, War, Romantic, Drama.

Wings was the first film to win the Academy Award (1927/1928) for Best Picture (called Best Picture, Production). But despite this claim, overtime, it seems to have fallen out of favor and almost seems to have been forgotten all together. WINGS is sometimes unfavorably compared with the other “best picture” from that first Oscar ceremony, SUNRISE (Most Artistic Quality of Production), and for a time it was even considered lost. But a print was found in the Cinémathèque Française film archive in Paris and quickly copied to safety film. This year, a restored WINGS, derived from that print, will finally get a DVD and Blu-Ray release, as part of Paramount Studio’s 100th Anniversary celebration.

As part of that release, it was shown recently in the Paramount Theater. Since it is a rare opportunity to see this film as it was meant to be seen, I wanted very much to take advantage of the opportunity. I have already gone on record for my love of SUNRISE, and I wanted this review to be about WINGS itself.

My first impression after seeing this film is that it is a great movie, not only for 1927/28 but for now. The old adage that they don’t make them like they used to is appropriate when describing this film. The aerial photography is incredible since it is so realistic. The actors were actually up in the airplanes, in some cases actually flying them, for all the dogfighting scenes. There were no such things as rear projection, blue screens, green screens or CGI. Arguably, some of the shots of flying, especially the close-ups, could have been shot on the ground, but they weren’t. When you see Buddy Rogers flying and another plane passes through the view, that is really another plane flying by. Even the crash landings, though staged, were really crashes.

Coming less than a decade after the end of World War I, WINGS may have been made as a reaction to MGM’s successful THE BIG PARADE (1925), one of the first Hollywood features made about that war. Things haven’t really changed much in Hollywood, and when one studio hits with a particular genre or subject matter, you can be sure there will be copycats or similar types of movies made. Separating it from THE BIG PARADE is the fact that WINGS is essentially a film about flyboys. And it was made at a time when America was fascinated by flying. Remember, Charles Lindberg had just crossed the Atlantic in 1927, making himself and flying big news.

Add to the mix, the IT girl, Clara Bow, who brought with her star power based on her cute and sexy public persona. She was Paramount’s biggest star and was at the height of her popularity. Earlier in the year, she had made the film she is most identified with, IT. Sadly, her career, like so many others would collapse with the coming of sound and even though THE JAZZ SINGER was already out, the transition to sound was still in the future when WINGS was made and released.

In the film, Clara plays Mary, a small town girl with a crush on the boy next door, Jack (Charles Rogers). They have a friendship, more than a romance. We see her help him put together a jalopy, which she christens the Shooting Star. But Jack’s heart belongs to Sylvia (Jobyna Ralston), a city girl visiting the small town. As soon as the car is ready to drive, Jack leaves Mary and drives over to Sylvia’s so she can have the first ride. However, Sylvia’s in love with David (Richard Arlen), the son from the richest family in town. David returns Sylvia’s affections. Jack, for his part, is oblivious to Sylvia’s love for David, but he has disdain for his rival just the same.

Jack, we’re told, has always dreamed of flying and when the U.S. finally enters the war, he signs up to be a pilot in the Army’s Air Corp. Much to his chagrin, he finds himself signing up next to David. When he’s going off to war, Jack goes to Sylvia to ask for some sort of memento to take with him into battle. He finds one that she has already made for David, her photo in a locket with a personal note on the back of the photo. David walks in while Jack and Sylvia embrace. She later tells David that she couldn’t tell Jack the truth after seeing the way he looked at her. The two agree not to burst Jack’s bubble.

David, we’re led to believe has lived a sheltered life and while he loves his parents and they love him, it’s not the touchy feely kind of relationship. He feels more comfortable saying goodbye to the family dog and to the butler. Like Jack, he has a good luck charm, but rather than a photo, it is a tiny teddy bear that he used to play with as a child. We’re talking small, fit in your pocket-sized bear.

Just as Jack is leaving, Mary calls him over, hoping for a last chance for him to see she is the one for him. She gives him a photo of her, which is about as cute as they get, but she gets a handshake instead of a kiss.

Jack and David find themselves together throughout training and their eventual deployment. It is while training that Jack and David finally get into it. Jack lets his hatred for David bubble over and the two get into a fistfight. The fact that David won’t go down easily changes Jack’s mind and the two become best friends. On their deployment to Germany, they bunk for mere minutes with Cadet White (Gary Cooper).

I say mere minutes, because while they’re still unpacking, the tall and lanky White goes off to practice figure eights before eating and does not return. This brief appearance has been said to have launched Cooper’s career.

Meanwhile, back in small town U.S.A., Mary reads an ad for ambulance drivers for a volunteer women’s corp. Sylvia, apparently just waits.

Jack and David become heroes, shooting down German planes and winning citations. One of which gets them a pass to Paris on the eve of the Big Push by the Allies. Mary, who happens to be in Paris as well, hears about the recall of the troops and goes to find Jack. It is at the famous Les Folies Bergère, where Jack is not only intoxicated but smitten with another girl. Taking the advice of the washroom attendant, Mary changes into one of the dancer’s costumes in an effort to win Jack away from the woman in the bar. She only succeeds when she bubbles more than the other woman when drunken Jack shakes her. (Jack is having hallucinations and bubbles are his pink elephants.)

Mary takes Jack to a hotel room. The assumption here is that she’s trying to get him a chance to dry out before returning to the battlefield, not to seduce him. Even if that had been her purpose, Jack is too drunk to do anything but pass out. While Jack is out, Mary decides to change back into her ambulance driver’s uniform. At the same time, MPs who are tasked with rounding up pilots burst into the room and see Mary half-naked with a drunken flyboy on the bed. This situation, though innocent as it may be, in the morals of the day, is enough to get Mary kicked out of the Woman’s Corp.

It is back on the battlefield, and minutes away from going into battle that Jack reads about Mary's resignation from the Woman's Corp. When Jack states that he's surprised that Mary would quit, Lt. Walter Cameron (Roscoe Karns), another pilot, suggests she was fired for sexual misconduct. Jack takes offense at that and almost comes to blows with Walter. David hopes that means Jack's affections have switched to Mary. But Jack insists that is not the case and shows David his good luck charm, the locket that Sylvia had intended for David. Jack had kept the locket a secret up to then and when he shows it to David, the photo falls to the floor. David finds it and reads the inscription on the back, that Sylvia had written to him. Seeing no way to put the photo back without Jack seeing the inscription, David almost fights his friend to avoid him seeing it. But they are called to their planes before that happens. David, who has already stated he fears he might not return from the mission, leaves behind his teddy bear.

On their way to shoot down some German observation balloons, David runs interference with four German planes, leaving Jack to go after the balloons. While David is initially successful he is eventually shot down. Crashing behind enemy lines, he is thought to have been killed when a German patrol comes upon him and shoots when he doesn’t surrender. A German flying ace delivers the news by flying his plane into the enemy camp to deliver the news in a tube.

But David is not dead and manages to make his way to a German airfield, where he steals a plane to fly back to the Allied side. However, on his way back he runs into Jack, who sees the German plane as another way to avenge his fallen friend, and he mercilessly shoots it down. When he lands to take a souvenir, he discovers that the dying pilot is David. Jack stays with his friend until he dies.

When the war is over, Jack returns to a hero’s welcome. He is relieved that David’s parents don’t blame him for the death of their son. And finally, Jack realizes that it is Mary he loves.

While all of this may sound melodramatic it isn’t. There are obviously places where it could have gone that way, but it doesn’t. And it is not all drama either. Comic relief is supplied by El Brendel and Gunboat Smith. El Brendel, a vaudevillian comic, plays Herman Schwimpf, who gets into scuffs along the way when his intentions are misunderstood. Mostly, he gets into it with his Sergeant (Gunboat Smith). Gunboat, a former heavyweight fighter turned actor, is perhaps best known for losing to Jack Dempsey in 1917 and again in 1918. El Brendel, ironically, left Paramount the same year as this film and went back to vaudeville. He would return to films again and again in his career, first at Fox and later in shorts for Columbia Pictures.

What helps set this film apart are the visuals in it. The shots revolving around flying and dogfights are simply stunning. William Wellman, a former pilot in World War I, brought realism to the movie. As stated before the actors who could fly were actually flying the planes. In addition to onboard cameras, Wellman also used platforms and balloons to capture some incredible shots.

In addition to flying, the shots of the battlefields are likewise spectacular. The bombed out landscape, as well as the subtleties of war, are truly captured here. And perhaps it took someone who had been there to bring it to life. The immensity of the battle scenes reminded me of the Civil War footage that D.W. Griffith shot in his flawed epic BIRTH OF A NATION. The realism captured would be either now be supplemented with stock footage or created using green screens and CGI.

And the camera work is not only spectacular for the flying and battle sequences. Be sure to pay attention to such scenes as when Jack goes to show Sylvia his Shooting Star car and when we enter the Les Folies Bergère. Like SUNRISE (1927), the camera work is sophisticated and something that would be lost for a time when sound forced everyone to gather round the microphone.

While WINGS was definitely Wellman’s first major film, it would hardly be his last. He would go on to direct such classics as THE PUBLIC ENEMY (1931), WILD BOYS OF THE ROAD (1933). A STAR IS BORN (1937), BEAUE GESTE (1939), ROXIE HART (1942), and the OX-BOW INCIDENT (1943). Wellman, also called Wild Bill, liked to work fast, disdained actors but hated actresses more. Known for bullying his actors, he did manage to the performance he wanted from them and seven of them would receive Oscar nominations for their troubles. Wellman himself, who was not nominated for WINGS, would receive them for A STAR IS BORN, BATTLEGROUND (1949) and THE HIGH AND THE MIGHTY (1954). His only Oscar came for Best Writing, Original Story for A STAR IS BORN, which he shared with Robert Carson.

Like other films made in the late silent era, WINGS is a sophisticated work. There are not lots of title cards, because, by that time, audiences knew how to watch a movie. They didn’t have to see every bit of dialogue written out for them to be able to follow the movie. The film also employs sound in some very interesting ways.

To begin with, silent films were not usually totally silent. Music usually accompanied their showings. While it may have started out as a way of drowning out other noises that might interrupt your viewing pleasure (coughing, talking, etc.), Hollywood quickly realized that music could be used to enhance the film. Oftentimes, films came with suggested pieces that could be played by the theater’s piano player or organist to set the mood. For really big films, music was written for them and played by an organist or a small orchestra for truly big budget films. Such is the case of WINGS.

A score was written for the film by J.S. Zamecnik that incorporated both original music themes as well as songs, such as George Cohan’s Over There and symphonic passages. This score was arranged for both orchestra and for organ. While there were no recordings to be used for this restoration, the score has been brought back to life and Zamecnik receiving the credit that eluded him at the time.

The film score also employs sound effects that were designed to enhance the film, such as machine gun fire and planes in flight. These were also done live when the film first was shown. Though as part of the move from silent to synchronized sound it is possible that by the end of its two-year theatrical run, some of the sound effects were no longer live.

To see WINGS is to be impressed, not only with the original film but with the restoration process. There are occasionally jump cuts perhaps from a missing frame or two, but considering the film was all but lost, its resurrection is all that more impressive.

A success at the time of its release, WINGS’ return to life is a triumph.

Stubs - Sunrise

SUNRISE (1927) AKA SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS Starring: George O’Brien, Janet Gaynor Margaret Livingston. Directed by F.W. Murnau. Written by Carl Meyer. Story by: Hermann Sudermann. Produced by William Fox. Run Time: 95 minutes, Black and White. U.S. Silent, Drama

Anyone who has been to Hollywood and Highland or who has knowledge of the Academy Awards will tell you that the first film to win Best Picture was WINGS (1927) a World War I actioner starring It girl Clara Bow, Charles “Buddy” Rogers, Richard Arlen and a very young Gary Cooper. However, that first Academy Awards, held in 1929, had two categories for the top films: Best Picture and something they no longer give: Best Picture: Unique and Artistic Production. While WINGS is renowned for its realistic flying sequences, it is by and large a forgotten film. It is the only best picture film not to be released on DVD.

SUNRISE on the other hand is still considered a classic. Made by F.W. Murnau, SUNRISE clearly has its roots in German Expressionism, a post-world war I movement that used symbolism and mise en scene (design) to add mood and deeper meaning to a film. Because money was tight in the Weimar Republic, German directors were forced to develop their own style, rather than try and compete with the films coming out of Hollywood. Murnau, best known for his Dracula adaptation, NOSFERATU (1922) and THE LAST LAUGH (1924) starring Emil Jennings, was one of Germany’s most influential silent era directors and a prominent German expressionist. In 1926, William Fox, invited Murnau to come to America and the result is SUNRISE.

The plot of the movie is slight melodramatic. A Woman from the City (Margaret Livingston), travels to the countryside on vacation and meets the Man (George O’Brien). The two have an affair right under the nose of the Wife (Janet Gaynor). The Woman tells the Man to sell the farm and come back to the city with her. The Wife, the Woman suggests, can be drowned in the lake and made to look like an accident. While the Man protests, he ultimately capitulates.

The Wife suspects nothing when the Man suggests a trip to the City. However, she grows suspicious of her husband’s motives when he stands up menacingly in the boat to throw her overboard, but stops when he realizes he can’t go through with it. When the boat lands on shore, the Wife flees.

She catches a trolley to get away, but the Man catches it, too. In the City, she runs into traffic only to be saved by her husband. Slowly, as the walk through the City, the Wife forgives her husband. He buys her flowers; they go to a church and watch a wedding. The Man breaks down finally and the two of them have reconciliation. After which they only have eyes for each other.

They wander through the City doing rather mundane stuff. They get their photograph taken, he gets a haircut, they go to an amusement park, they play a game in the Midway and they dance. When darkness comes, they jump on a trolley to begin the journey back home.

On the lake, their lazy moonlight trip home is disrupted by a sudden and violent storm that capsizes the boat. The Man wakes up on shore, but there is no wife around. He gets help from the townspeople and they search the lake for her, but only find a broken bushel of reeds that he had wrapped around her.

The Man goes home to cry for his loss. But the Woman from the City, thinking her plan has worked, goes to the Man’s house. But instead of finding an accomplice in crime, she instead finds the Man grieving for his Wife. Instead a warm embrace, he has a murderous rage and chases her down. When his hands are around her neck, the Maid calls out that his wife is alive. She had survived by holding onto the reeds and had been pulled from the lake by a fisherman.

As Sunrise comes, the Man and the Wife are a loving couple and the Woman from the City leaves town on a cart.

The acting, despite Janet Gaynor’s Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role, is a bit wooden. And the wig that Gaynor wears throughout is almost laughable. But it is not the acting or costume design that sets this film apart.

It is the style of the film and especially the cinematography by Charles Rosher and Karl Struss. The tracking shots are very impressive, with one of them lasting over four minutes. The most impressive to me was the shot when the Man is going to meet the Woman by the Lake. The camera starts out trailing after him and ends up in front.

Also, the use of sets. Not only did Murnau spend a lot on the sets for The City, but he made it seem even larger through the use of forced perspective. As an example, in the foreground will be normal-sized people and normal-sized sets, but in the background are little people and smaller sets.

Another thing that is noticeable is the infrequent title cards. Silent films and their audiences had developed a certain sophistication in story telling that did not require a title card for every piece of dialogue for the plot to be followed.

Watching SUNRISE is seeing an art form at its pinnacle right before it becomes obsolete. The same year SUNRISE was released, Warner Bros. released THE JAZZ SINGER and talkies became the rage. It would take Hollywood several years to regroup and in the meantime the artistry of films would also suffer. Some might say it never has fully recovered.