Before You Die #618: A Throw of Dice (1930)

This is the 618th film that I've now seen out of the 1,199 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.much 

Original Hindi Title: Prapancha Pash

Director: Franz Osten

A rather fun, relatively light drama with a distinctively mythic feel. It doesn't break new narrative or acting ground, but the visual merits are noteworthy.

A Throw of Dice tells the story of two cousin kings living during an unspecified medieval period in India. The elder cousin, the greedy King Sohat, attempts to take over the kingdom of his younger, more handsome cousin, King Ranjit. Through assassinations and other underhanded tricks, Sohat very nearly manages to make a pauper out of Ranjit, as well as taking his beloved Sunita. In the end though, Sohat's various deceptions are revealed, he is defeated by Ranjit's supporters, and Ranjit takes back his kingdom.

The movie has plenty of plot swings, and they come off very much like a condensed soap opera. The pace is fun and brisk, and Sohat makes for a despicabble enough villain to make his demise rather satisfying. The characters are rather one-dimensional, though, with the only real complexity coming from the fact that the otherwise-amiable King Ranjit has a compulsion for gambling. This is what brings him to the very brink of total ruin, although everything does work out in the end. In this way, the movie comes off as a standard cautionary tale that one might tell children, making its appeal a bit more limited than a more nuanced story might hold.

Compared to contemporary films, A Throw of Dice feels rather lavish and exotic, not unlike The Thief of Baghdad. It isn't going to dazzle modern viewers used to much more advanced visuals, but for its time, this movie stood out. I have to think that it had a certain allure to those interested in foreign regions, as such places and customs were simply not seen in moving pictures much at the time. In fact, there are even a few documentary-style sequences which have nothing to do with plot and are presumably put into the film to simply amaze viewers who hadn't seen such footage of elephant riders, snake charmers, and other bizarre figures whom they had only read about or seen still photos of.

A Throw of Dice is a breezy, easily accessible affair from the silent era. It like a silent, black and white version of an extended parable. It won't challenge your values, and it won't expand your views of the world or humanity, but it can entertain your for its concise 75-minute run time.

That's 618 movies down. Only 581 to go before I can die.

Before I Die #615: Pandora's Box (1929)

This is the 615th movie that I've now seen out of the 1,199 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Original German Title: Die Buchse der Pandora

Director: Georg Wilhelm Pabst

I love my wife. She saw the rental box for this DVD and gives me a nice, sarcastic, "'Pandora's Box'? What is that, porn?"

No, it's not porn. But things do get rather illicit and dark in this movie. And it's done rather brilliantly, I might add. The movie follows the rise and fall of Lulu, a beautiful young woman whose wanton sexuality and lack of morals bring ruin to nearly everyone around her, and eventually herself. At movie's beginning, she uses her wiles to manipulate a reputable, older editor, Dr. Schon, into abandoning his scheduled marriage to another woman. Once married, however, Lulu continues to actively inspire jealousy in others, leading to the death of her husband. This forces her and a few of her hangers-on to flee Germany and take refuge in a rather seedy shipyard area. When she tries to use her sexuality and charisma to evade her debts, her plan backfires and sends her and her two remaining cohorts on the run once again. The three ultimately end up living in a hovel in a poor area of London. Here, Lulu is eventually approached and murdered by a Jack the Ripper-type psychopath.

The description can tell you just how dark this movie is. What makes it great are a few things. One is that I knew almost nothing about this movie. After the first 15 or so minutes, I thought I had the tone and entire plotline fully predicted, being more or less a Sister Carrie type tale, whereby a young seductress ruins an older, established man via his libido. While this does happen, it is really only part of the larger story, which is a more vicious tragedy. I suppose one could argue that there is a certain misogyny running through a story of a young woman who is at the heart of so much pain for those around her, but one could also argue that Lulu's life and death are a cautionary tale against selfish and greedy behavior. This might be a rather conservative message, but the telling of the story is admittedly riveting. The pace is quite brisk, with very little downtime, with nearly every scene moving things along. The movie is divided into seven acts, and by the end of the third, I was fully invested in the outcome.

Another strength is related to the film's seven act structure. Each act takes place in a very distinctive setting and time in the Lulu's wild life. Act one is in the apartment set up for her by her lovers. Two is in the theater, while three is at the wedding reception which resulted from Lulu's sabotage of her doomed doctor lover. And on they go, with each act and setting feeling like a clear chapter in the life of the ever-devolving affairs of a naive and immoral but enchanting young beauty. Many movies have as episodic feel, but very few of them, especially during the silent era, crystallize so effectively. Enhancing this general structure was some outstanding set and costume designs, captured exceptionally by top-notch camera work.

Lulu's doomed marriage to Dr. Schon falls apart at a break-
neck speed. And he's far from the first or last person who will
suffer from falling under her unconscious spell.

One final standout feature of this movie was it is another of a handful of late silent-era films in which we see more naturalistic acting, rather than the exaggerated variety more common in most movies of the time period (and even, in many cases, for a few decades afterward). Several actors in this movie pull this off rather well, but the feature actor Louis Brooks is the standout. Firstly, she is stunningly beautiful, but that's incidental, if necessary for the plot. There's an alluring, casual air about her manner that I associate with one of my favorite actresses from the very next era - Barbara Stanwyck. Brooks isn't always as smooth as Stanwyck would later be, but she has more natural, authentic magnetism than nearly any starlet that I've seen from the silent era.

When I checked this movie out of my local video store, the eminently knowledgeable clerk stated that Pandora's Box  was probably his favorite silent movie. I can now see why. Even if I might not rate it quite that highly, I would still place it in my top 5 of that era.

That's 615 movies down, only 584 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #613*: A Storm over Asia (1928)

*It's that time again. The fine people at the "1,001...Before You Die" headquarters have issued a new edition of their list, including 12 new movies from the last year or so. I'd already seen five of them, but this all requires an adjustment to my overall numbers. Hence the jump from film #607 to #613. With that out of the way...

This is the 613th movie that I've now seen out of the 1,199 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Original Russian Title: Potomok Chingis-Khana

Director: Vsevolod Pudovkin

Bair, the Mongol fur trader, offers his wares for sale. The
insulting price given sets into motion an ever-expanding chain
of events that lead to an massive outright revolt.

A curious old silent movie that, while overly long by today's standards, offered some social and political commentary that was novel for its day.

The movie mostly follows Bair, a Mongol fur trader who runs afoul of a chiseling, white supremacist English trader. After a scuffle during which an Englishman is killed, Bair goes on the run and joins a group of Russian partisans for a time, as they fight against English forces in the region. He is eventually captured and sentenced to death by the British; however, it is discovered that he is likely the only living descendant of Genghis Khan, the powerful ruler from centuries past whose legend still has a firm grip on the Mongolian people. Knowing this, the British enact plan to raise Bair to the status of ruler of the Mongols, hoping to use him as a puppet ruler through whom they can control the Mongolian people. Unfortunately for the scheming British, Bair ultimately erupts into fury at his and his people's being used and manipulated, and he rallies his fellow Mongols to war against the British.

The version I watched of this is apparently the "full" two-hour-and-change version, as opposed to the 74-minute version that is referred to on several database websites. Well, I could really feel those extra 45 minutes at times. The movie features more than a few slow-moving segments during which I presume the audience was meant to simply take in the scenery, as opposed to seeing the plot move along. This is especially true during the first half hour or so, when little happens beyond Bair bringing a rare, high-quality fur into town for sale. Things do get more engaging once he goes on the run from the infuriated British, but often the pace slows while scenes linger on repetitive sequences or mundane activities such as men smiling at each other. It also doesn't help that there are absolutely no well-rounded or fully explored characters in the picture. This is not completely uncommon for stories which tackle large socio-political and military themes, but it can be rather dull when all but one character acts in completely predictable ways.

There is one fascinating (if overly long) sequence where we
get some documentary-style footage of authentic Buddhist
ceremonies being performed. The precision and pageantry
of these ceremonies is curiously juxtaposed with English
military leaders donning their garb. Such commentary was
relatively sophisticated, based on other silent films I've seen.

All that said, A Storm over Asia does stand out from most other silent films that I've seen, including its contemporaries. It's the earliest film I've seen that offers a fairly straightforward tale of social manipulation, whereby one group - the British in this case - seeks to use religious belief and historical capital to create a shadow regime over a region. This shows a deeper and darker vision of international politics than what one would see in the films of D.W. Griffiths or a movies like Battleship Potemkin and October, two Russian revolution films which had a very obvious bias. This movie does the same, but expands its scope to outside of Russia's borders.

The end of the tale is quite unusual as well. Whereas many directors would have built an entire third (and even perhaps a second) act around a Mongol horde erupting with fury against their oppressors, it is this outburst of anger that serves as a foreboding exclamation point at the end of A Storm over Asia. It certainly has a very particular effect of leaving one with a sense that one overly arrogant group has just grabbed the tiger by the tail, and we viewers are left with the image of the snarling tiger just turning around and starting to take its first vicious swipe at its aggressor. I can appreciate how the story is much more about the causes behind a revolution rather than the actual fighting which eventually break out.

Overall and interesting film for its day, and one that does show why it is still considered important, nearly a century after its release.

That's 613 films down. Only 586 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #607: Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928)

This is the 607th movie I've seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm working my way through.

Directors: Charles Reisner, Buster Keaton

A solid Keaton flick, with some of his more memorable set piece stunts, though it doesn't top my two other favorite Keaton movies.

The setup and story are not wildly innovative for silent era comedies: the only son of a crusty old steamboat captain, William Canfield, Jr. (Keaton) returns home from college to see his father for the first time in many, many years. Much to his burly, working-class father's chagrin, Junior is a diminutive dandy, looking wildly different from his old man in both his tiny frame and his foppish style. Senior attempts to teach junior his trade, with little success. This creates bigger problems since their family business - their steamboat - is about to be put out of business by a brand new, larger, and more luxurious steam liner that has just moved into their river town. The rivalry with this other company is put on hold, though, when a massive storm blows through the town, endangering everyone in it. Junior, despite his many goofs up to this point, manages to save his father and several other prominent people in the town.

"Old Stoneface" Keaton's remarkable skills as a
physical comedian are on display throughout the
film, but perhaps never moreso than as he
fumbles his way around the steamships.

As with any Keaton flick, the story is hardly what matters here. It's all about the visual stunts and gags, and this film has plenty of them. The most notable is the grande finale windstorm, when entire buildings are literally crumbling around Keaton's character, as he dodges the debris coming at him from all directions. Although there were some impressive stunts in this very long sequence, I was actually more amused by a few of the simpler physical gags. What's always impressed me about Keaton were his uncanny agility and grace, and the massive eyes on his hilariously deadpan face. In this movie, there is more than one moment where he'll take a spill that could seriously cripple him, somehow catch himself, and never once change his facial expression. It dawned on me that he truly is the original Jackie Chan, in terms of putting his safety at risk for the sake of a movie. Only I find his impassive non-reactions far funnier than Chan's highly expressive face.

I've now seen about a half dozen of Keaton's movies, and my two favorites are still Our Hospitality and The General. Steamboat Bill, Jr. may have the more memorable final act in the eyes of historians, and it may have inspired the very first Mickey Mouse cartoon, but it wasn't quite as entertaining as those earlier movies of his.

That's 607 movies down. Only 580 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #606: An Andalusian Dog (1928)

This is the 606th movie I've watched from the "Before You Die" list which I'm working my way through.

Probably the most (in)famous scene from the film. Yes, that
is a straight razor in his hand, and yes, he's about to do what
you are afraid he's going to do with it.

Director: Luis Bunuel

If you know a little something about painting and/or film history, then the names "Salvador Dali" and "Luis Bunuel" ought to evoke notions of oddity, irreverance and surreality. And once you know that, you get some idea of what you're in for with An Andalusian Dog, a 20-minute short film conceived and written by Dali and Bunuel, and directed by the latter.

How does one describe the story, such as it is? Frankly, it's virtually impossible. I could give a detailed synopsis of what happens, but it would probably take no fewer than 5,000 words and far too much of your time. In very broad strokes, this 20-minute film short connects seemingly incongruous images, such as a woman having her eye cut open with a razor blade, (perhaps?) the same woman assisting a man semi-dressed as a clown who has had a bicycle accident outside of her apartment, a man with ants literally crawling out of his palm, and plenty of other strange and unsettling visuals. While it takes great imagination to even attempt to piece any of this together into any cohesive narrative, the one connecting factor may be that nearly all of the images are likely to unsettle a viewer in one way or another.

Need a mental workout? Just watch some images like a couple
of dead mules on tops of pianos and try to make heads or
tails of them. That's what this film has to offer.

My viewing experience was such that I was only glad that the film wasn't longer than 20 minutes. I simply don't know if my brain could have handled it. I don't mind strange and bizarre. I've watched, found merit in, and even enjoyed films by directors such as David Lynch and Lars Von Trier, two filmmakers unafraid to challenge audiences for a full 90 to 120 minutes. But An Andalusian Dog? It truly is the stuff of the human unconscious. It is no secret that Salvador Dali drew much inspiration for his surrealist painting and sculptures from his own dreams and hallucinations. This film is the movie picture version of just such visions. The movie has that typically dream-like quality where the connection between one moment, scene or sequence to the next is nearly impossible to predict. It might be a visual similarity, a random thought or impulse, or a loose word association. One could probably watch the movie a thousand times and come up with completely different interpretations every time, given the elemental nature of many of the images. However one does it, it is likely to tax your mind as it works to find some sort of meaning in it all. For such a strange work, more than 20 minutes would likely have been asking too much of most viewers, including myself.

I understand that this was probably one of the first well-respected surrealist films, and one that inspired many later filmmakers to break certain rules and conventions of cinematic storytelling. That stated, I can hardly say that I "enjoyed" this little film. I can appreciate its artistry and just how wildly imaginative it is, but I can't see myself going back to it unless it comes with a manual.

So that's now 606 movies down. Only 582 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #605: The Docks of New York (1928)

This is the 605th movie I've seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm working my way through.

Director: Josef von Sternberg

A tidy little tale that illustrates several evolutions in film storytelling just at the dawn of the sound age in cinema.

The movie tracks the brisk meeting and bonding between Bill Roberts (George Bancroft) and Mae (Betty Compson). Roberts is a cynical, steely-eyed, hard-as-nails stoker, one who shovels coal into a ship's furnaces for fuel. While he and his fellow stokers are on dry land for an evening of R and R, he comes across a young woman, Mae, who tries to commit suicide by throwing herself into the river. Roberts saves her and soon falls in love, even marrying her in a hasty ceremony that very night, right at the bar where he had just earlier been getting drunk and brawling with other revelers. While initially getting married as a sort of lark and planning to hop a new ship the next morning, Roberts soon realizes that he loves the morose Mae more than he realizes. He jumps off of his new ship just as it is leaving port and rushes to find Mae at the local courthouse, where she is being charged for shoplifting. Roberts takes the rap for her, though, allowing himself to be sentenced to 60 days in prison. For him and Mae, though, this is a sort of blessing, as he will at least be on dry land and closer to her, rather than out at sea.

When compared to the other "great" movies that I've now seen from this era, The Docks of New York stands out in a few ways. Firstly is that it is a drama focusing on a segment of society very rarely featured in such films. Nearly the entire tale takes place in a beaten down dock area of New York City, a depressed section of the city where blue-collar workers struggled mightily to survive. The movie depicts the epitome of the "work hard, play hard" approach to life, where nights brought excessive drinking, fighting, and sex to anyone looking for them. This is a far cry from the loftier or more epic tales told in most other films of the day. There is a highly seedy element to the proceedings, but the movie isn't judging them. Rather, it uses Bill and Mae to evoke a certain amount of sympathy for such people. This is especially true for Mae, who has obviously been used and abused far too much in her young life. At this point in film history, not many quality films had offered such portrayals of the "lower class," with The Last Laugh and The Crowd being two of the few notable exceptions.

Something else I noticed in this movie is how we continued to see ever more subtlety in the star actors' techniques. Lead man Bancroft and lady Compson have clearly learned that they needn't mug or posture for a camera that can offer us telling close-ups of their faces and capture all of their smallest movements. And there is a notable ease with which Bancroft struts around the wild saloon where he and his fellow salt-of-the-earth types get into various scuffles. Such actors always unintentionally make their second-rate supporting cast look a little worse, though it can be a bit tougher to spot before the true boom of sound and dialogue. All the same, the leading actors do nice work evoking some feeling for their characters.

Bill and Mae, just outside of Bill's rundown room. This film
showed early mastery of dark and light that later movies
would turn into virtually an entire genre.

Perhaps even more than the characters, story, or actors, the visuals are quite impressive. Using methods that foreshadowed what we would see in the great noir films of the forthcoming decades, this movie used lighting and shadows to amazing effect. This creates a sense of lingering doom over certain scenes, especially those just outside of the bar and shanty apartments, where one can assume that nothing good is happening in the many nooks, crannies, and corners shrouded in darkness. This all sets a rather unique setting and tone for the movie, making it even more imperative that Bill and Mae find some sort of solace with each other.

Being a silent film, The Docks of New York is still trapped in several of that era's popular movie conventions, including silly slapstick gags here and there, and an oversimplified plot. Still, it is a decent movie for its time, and I was engaged for its very modest running time of 76 minutes. Those who enjoy silent era films would likely appreciate more than a few things about this one, even if it isn't the silent film likely to win over viewers not terribly interested in pre-sound pictures. 

Before I Die #604: The Kid Brother (1927)

This is the 604th movie that I've now watched out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Harold Lloyd

Mildly amusing slapstick farce from the tail-end of the silent film era. I didn't find it nearly as entertaining as most of the Buster Keaton silent comedies I've seen, though.

Typical of silent film-era comedies, the plot is hardly worth considering, even if a tad more complex that its peers: in the small town of Hickoryville in the western U.S., a traveling medicine show rolls into town. However, the town's most prominent family, the Hickories, are composed of a patriarchal sheriff and his eldest two deputy sons who despise such shows. When the youngest and by far most bungling Hickory boy, Harold (Harold Lloyd), accidentally grants the medicine show permission to perform in the town, two of the show's dastardly members take to conning and robbing the town of its funds to build a new, much-needed dam. Though quirky and diminutive Harold is not the physically-powerful type that his father and brothers are, he uses his craftiness and cunning to track down, outsmart, and eventually capture the pair of thieves in their hideout in an abandoned, sunken ship.

Similar to the films of Chaplin and Keaton, The Kid Brother is heavy on using its mostly deadpan star pulling off a variety of physical gags, often using the environment around him to deceive his various enemies. There are a decent number of amusing visual jokes, though they are geared more around the character Harold's knack for mechanical ingenuity rather than his own physical prowess. This is mostly why I found that I preferred Keaton's films - not only was the great "Stone Face" a much deader deadpan, but the diminutive gymnast's physical strength, agility, and timing have always set him far apart in my eyes. Lloyd's approach was different and respectable, but it simply didn't grab me the way Keaton always has.

I will say that I enjoyed how the story shifted to a rather fantastic setting for its final sequences. The set piece of the tilted, semi-sunken ship made for a great location for the showdown between Harold and the two villainous thieves. Though the pursuit and cat-and-mouse game felt a bit drawn out by its end, it was still one of the most unique segments I've seen in silent era comedies.

I'm glad that I finally saw a film by Lloyd, and I can see why he has often been mentioned in the same breath as Chaplin and Keaton. I must say, though, that while I will continue to take in Keaton's movies and enjoy them, I don't really feel the desire to seek out any more of Lloyd.

That's 604 movies down; only 583 to go before I can die.

Before I Die #601: The Unknown (1927)

This is the 601st movie I've seen out of the 1,187 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Tom Browning

Boy, for a film produced in 1927, this was one sick, twisted look at a diseased mind. It was also surprisingly compelling.

The movie centers around Alonzo (Lon Chaney) - a circus freak without arms whose act consists of his using his feet to throw knives and shoot a gun at a female assistant, Nanon (Joan Crawford). Alonzo has a deep love for Nanon, but a competitor for her affections is the macho strongman of the circus, Malabar. As much as Alonzo would love to take Nanon as his own, he is keeping two deep secrets: one is that he does, in fact, have both of his arms, which he keeps tightly strapped to himself when in public. The other is that he is a serial murderer and thief who uses his circus character as cover from the police. Alonzo does, eventually, have one arm surgically removed, in order to both cover up some evidence of a past crime and to become closer to Nanon, who has a severe dislike of "grabby" men and their invasive hands. After convalescing from this procedure and returning to Nanon, however, Alonzo discovers that she has fallen for Malabar and plans to marry him. Alonzo, in a quiet rage, attempts to sabotage one of Malabar's dangerous performances of strength. His assassination attempt is foiled, though, when Nanon jumps in to assist Malabar, forcing Alonzo to sacrifice himself to save her.

When I look back at the list of great movies of the silent era, which was about to hear its death knell when The Jazz Singer would be released later that year, The Unknown stands out as a bold and shocking gut-punch to mainstream sensibilities. While other popular films such as Metropolis, The Phantom of the Opera, and Sunrise had taken on some dark subject matter, they were done with a certain high-minded artistry or at least couched within more familiar and comforting settings. The Unknown, however, takes as its focus a truly dark and warped character, placed within the odd and inherently creepy setting of a traveling circus, and has him thinking black thoughts and committing dark deeds throughout the story's length. Five years after The Unknown, director Tom Browning would direct Freaks, which is very similar in tone and setting, and would eventually become his most famous (infamous to some) movie. This earlier work can be seen as the prototype for a certain brand of horror movies and even TV shows  that would come many decades later (it put me in mind of a few Tales from the Crypt episodes from the 1990s). For this, it has to be recognized as trailblazing.

The tale is, typically of the silent era, rather thin in terms of character depth or sophistication. Yes, there is some sinister mystery and morbid curiosity generated by Alonzo's dual nature as a deceitful murderer while also showing a fierce desire for Nanon. But it's not as if his love is anything more than a greedy desire to possess her, just as he wishes to possess the goods of those whom he robs and kills. The other primary characters - Nanon and Malabar - do actually show a dash of development, but it is of a rather sentimental variety.

Crawford as the assistant, Nanon, and Chaney as the sinister
Alonzo. Chaney, usually covered in makeup for his starring
roles, knew how to put on a wicked gaze.

A major saving grace of this movie, and what makes it still watchable today, is the performance of Lon Chaney. This was only the second Chaney picture I've ever seen (the first being The Phantom of the Opera), but he was mesmerizing. Chaney was known for being a makeup guy, but he actually had a face that was full of character on its own, made of of striking angles, strong bone structures, and dark, deep-set eyes. It was a face made for evil leering, and leer he does in this movie. It reminds me of how there aren't enough "star" actors today who have faces with actual character, but instead the handful of true leading men are handsome in fairly generic, universally appealing ways. It's been far too long since we've had a Lon Chaney or a Humphrey Bogart become a leading actor who can carry entire movies.

It bears mentioning that one other little detail may urge potential viewers to give this movie a shot: it's running time of a mere 50 minutes. There is really no dilly-dallying here. From the jump, things get moving and stay moving. This is probably how such movies should go. When a story is predicated on fairly simplistic characters, despite being in odd setting and in the midst of shockingly horrible deeds, the strange novelty can wear off quickly (I'm thinking of Rob Zombie's wacko horror movies like House of a 1,000 Corpses and the like).

Certainly ahead of its time, The Unknown still has an eerie, fringe and cult quality to it that fans of schlock horror are likely to still enjoy. It won't be for everyone, to be sure, but film historians and devotees of the genre are sure to find some value in this 90-year old rarity.

That's 601 movies down, only 586 films to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #597: The General (1927)

This is the 597th movie I've now seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Johnny Gray attempts to learn the art of war on the fly. The
movie uses some visual gags that you can see coming from a
mile away, but most of them are pleasantly clever and
unforeseeable, with crisp timing.

Directors: Clyde Bruckman and Buster Keaton

Another fun Buster Keaton picture, featuring some sequences, stunts, and gags that are quite amazing, given the time that they were performed and captured on film.

The story has Buster Keaton playing Johnny Gray, a locomotive engineer based in Georgia just at the start of the Civil War. He tries to enlist as a soldier, at the behest of his lady-love Annabelle Lee, but is refused on account of the officers think his value lies in his being a train engineer. A dejected Gray is then rebuffed by Annabelle, who is only interested in a man who will fight for the Confederacy. Gray is soon unexpectedly drawn in to the fight, however, when his beloved train The General is stolen by Union spies and taken towards the  north. Gray pursues them and, through a variety of ploys, tricks, and stunts, reclaims his train and, coincidentally, Annabelle.

As with all of the other handful of Keaton movies I've seen, the plot and characters are almost totally forgettable. Keaton movies are almost purely about the visual gags, with any storyline or character conflict merely serving to set up the sight jokes. While this can often lead to dull films, Keaton was the absolute master, and I find him highly watchable. His eye for visual gags was one thing, but it was his athletic grace, agility, and timing that made so many of those gags effective. While you can occasionally see some of the jokes coming from a mile away, there are plenty of them that derive their comedic power from their unpredictability. Others are so quick and so well-executed that they're just as funny now as they ever were.

In terms of the larger cinematic landscape, the most historically impressive aspect of the movie is the scale. For a comedy, the sets, props, and orchestration of the film are incredible for its time. Large sections of the movie involve trains moving along railroad tracks, with Keaton's Gray character involved with countless variations of gags that rely on the movement and spacing between two or more locomotives, often in geometrically challenging arrangements. All of these things were done with real trains on real railroad tracks, chugging along and through real landscapes. I haven't seen another comedy from that era that incorporated such large and impressive set pieces. Since I've been watching quite a few silent movies from this era lately, The General stood out as visually impressive in this way.

That's 597 movies down. Only 590 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #596: The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1926)

This is the 596th movie I've not seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working through.

Original German Title: Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed

Director: Lotte Reiniger

A brilliant and unprecedented work in cinema, even if it is one that has been somewhat forgotten in the annals of animated movies.

Using cutout figures as silhouettes, the movie depicts the wild adventures of Prince Achmed, a character from some of the tales in The 1,001 Arabian Nights, the famous collection of medieval fantasy and fairy tales from the Middle East. The handsome Prince Achmed is whisked away by the powers of an evil wizard, and he eventually must fight off various monsters and escape deadly traps. Eventually helping him are a powerful mountain witch and the famous character Aladdin, with his wish-granting, genie-housing lamp.

While the movie can take a bit of effort on the part of the viewer to maintain focus, due to its silent nature and the oft-soothing classical music score, it's an amazing feat of artistry. The cutout characters have a dazzling amount of detail and intricacy in the curves, lines, and edges worked into their figures and environments. Given that Reiniger decided to completely embrace two-dimensional storytelling (all films are 2-D by definition, but very few use strictly 2-D props), the amount of texture is amazing. Often, the eyes are busy taking in the details that Reiniger worked into the figures (she hand cut every one of them), and even more the characters and moods that she evokes through little movements of their hands, eyes, and heads. There is more than a little visual humor cleverly worked into many of the sequences.

The Prince (hidden on the right) sees the magical princess
for the first time. The detail in the cutouts, contrasted with
the simple but effective backgrounds, creates a palpable
world for these fairy tale characters and their adventures.

The story is, of course, the stuff of pure fantasy. One shouldn't go looking for emotional or psychological insights, or even development of character here. This is about people getting thrown into exotic locations and fighting evil wizards and monsters. It is rather fun for much of its short running length (it's only a tad over one hour), but the vibrancy can wear off after a little while.

A little research into this movie reveals that it is widely considered the very first feature-length animated movie. While animation and film techniques would far outstrip this movie within about two decades, it is clearly a masterpiece. I truly feel that this is a movie that even modern kids would enjoy, at least for a good half hour, if not for its entirety.

That's 596 movies down. Only 591 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #594: The Eagle (1925)

This is the 594th film I've now seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" List that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Clarence Brown

Not a bad little silent film hybrid of elements from classic tales like The Count of Monte Cristo and Robin Hood. While still smacking of several dated tropes, it provides just enough narrative fun to still have some entertainment value 90 years later.

The story is based on a classic Alexander Pushkin story, focusing on Vladimir Doubrovsky, a Russian lieutenant who incurs the wrath of the Czarina by rejecting her unwanted advances. No sooner does he do this than he discovers that his family estate has been wrongfully usurped by Kyrilla, a greedy and treacherous bully. Dubrovsky becomes an outlaw, dons a mask, and dubs himself "The Black Eagle." As the Eagle, he harasses and steals from Kyrilla's followers and hangers-on, giving his takings to the local poor. His grand scheme is to kill Kyrilla himself, when the time is right. The chance presents itself when Vladimir is able to adopt the role of a French tutor for Kyrilla's daughter, Kuschka. Although Vladimir does get his chance to kill Kyrilla, his newfound love for Kuschka stays his hand. He ends up being captured and sent to the Czarina, who orders his execution. Vladimir is quietly set free, however, by a sympathetic general, and the former Black Eagle goes off with Kuschka to be with his true love.

It's a fun little adventure tale with brisk pace and enough plot turns to be engaging throughout its sub-90 minute running time. It is a tale which borrows its tone from the great adventure tales of Alexander Dumas and lesser imitators. There are deceptions, intrigues, wronged innocents, a romance, and the emergence of a "hero of the people." No, it doesn't really add anything new to the genre, but it's a fun distraction that was done well for a 1920s silent film.

This is actually the very first movie that I've ever watched starring the first great cinema heartthrob, Rudolph Valentino. Being a silent film, it's impossible to comment much on the man's acting ability, but he certainly held the screen well and does fine in the title role of the noble and clever Vladimir. Although  not as broadly charismatic as Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. in The Thief of Baghdad, it's not difficult to see why Valentino became the object of obsession of female viewers all over the world.

I don't know that I'd ever feel the need to watch this one again, although it is a fun example of the fairly lighthearted adventure tales of the silent era.

That's 594 movies down. Only 503 to go before I can die.

Before I Die #593: The Big Parade (1925)

This is the 593rd movie I've watched out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" lists that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: King Vidor

For its time, a surprisingly hard look at the horrors of war, though one that would hold up better if not for an overly long and farcical first half.

The movie focuses on James Apperson, a layabout son of a wealthy industrial capitalist based in New York City. After seeing a parade for troops heading to Europe to fight in World War I, Apperson is swept up in patriotic fervor and enlists in the army. In service, he befriends a couple of working class New Yorkers in his platoon- the bartender "Bull" and the riveter "Slim." The platoon is sent to France, but they spend their first several weeks away from the front lines and instead kill time and boredom in a small French village. Apperson takes a fancy to a local French woman, who returns his affection. Soon, however, Apperson's platoon is sent to actually fight. At the front, Apperson's platoon meets strong resistance from German snipers and heavy artillery, which mow down a large number of Apperson's comrades in arms, including Slim. Apperson heroically charges towards the German lines, taking out several soldiers and an artillery setup, but he loses his leg in the process. Upon returning home, Apperson finds that while his parents are proud of him, the horrors of war have left their mark on his psyche as well as his body. To find solace, he returns to France and finds the young lady with whom he fell in love.

The second half of this movie is clearly the standout feature of it, as it is the earliest example of a well-done, hard look at war that I've seen. From the chilling opening moments of the fighting, with Apperson's platoon slowly walking through sniper-infested woods and getting picked off one by one, to the outright chaos of the nighttime artillery bombardment, the terrors of armed warfare are made far clearer than audiences would have seen in motion pictures at the time. There is an appropriate sense of loss and misery conveyed through much of these latter parts of the movie, and I feel that this is what sets it apart and makes it a classic.

The sequence with the snipers in the forest is far quieter than
the later scenes of the nighttime bombings, but I found them
actually more harrowing. It is the actual battle scenes that
keep this movie firmly among the important films in history.

The first half of the film, though, can drag. Far more of it is dedicated to lighthearted sight gags and a dash of slapstick, more in keeping with the free and easy fare of a Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin movie. I think that a small dose of these things would have been fine, but the movie spends over an hour in this tone. It took patience for me to get through this first half, but the payoff of the second half was worth it.

Apparently, this was the highest grossing movie of all time in the United States, until Gone With the Wind came out 14 years later. It's not hard to see why, as it made an early and profound statement against warfare, during a period when the country was most certainly still dealing with the psychological fallout of losing so many people to its horrors. Fans of historical war movies and silent movies in general will want to see this one, as it was a clear prototype for later war movies like All Quiet on the Western Front, The Best Years of Our Lives, Paths of Glory, and many others.

That's 593 movies down. Only 594 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #591: The Phantom of the Opera (1925)

This is the 591st movie I've now seen out of the 1,187 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working through.

Directors: Rupert Julian and Lon Chaney, Sr.

One of the better silent movies I've seen, with a few elements that still hold up fairly well.

The movie is, of course, based on the Gaston Laroux novel of the same name, published in 1910. It follows the same basic plot: at the Paris Opera House exist strange rumors of a "phantom" that lurks about the shadows of the venue. One night, the Phantom makes himself known by threatening the current prima donna Carlotta to step down and allow the younger, talented understudy Christine Daae take the lead role. While Carlotta does this initially, for fear of her life, she refuses the second time that the mysterious Phantom makes the same demand. This refusal sends the Phantom into a frenzy, whereupon he crashes the massive chandelier into the audience during a performance. He follows this by kidnapping Christine and secreting her away to his lair - a massive, trap-laden, labyrinthine system of catacombs beneath the Opera House and other parts of Paris. The Phantom explains only to Christine that his name is Erik and that he is madly in love with her. He also shows himself to be a brilliant organist, although he is clearly unhinged. Erik does allow Christine to go free, upon the promise that she will abandon any romantic relationships and become his sole pupil. When Christine eventually tries to escape from this maniacal bond, the Phantom kidnaps her again. Her would-be suitor Raoul and Ledoux, a member of the Paris secret police, pursue the two into the catacombs, where they find themselves trying to evade the Phantom's many lethal traps. Hot on their heels is a mob of Parisians who have discovered Erik's existence and are storming the catacombs for him, as well. Raoul and Ledoux do manage to escape with their lives and Christine, barely. Erik flees his lair, only to be caught by the mob, pummelled to death, and thrown into the river.

It's a wild tale that covers a lot of ground in the film's brisk 91 minutes, and it was one of the very first horror/adventure movies. Seeing it today, in 2016, it's easy to see why it is considered to have kicked off the entire genre - a genre which gave birth to the later hit monster movies like Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy, and so many others. Phantom of the Opera creates a wonderful and frightening fantasy world for viewers to get completely lost in. While the first scenes in the Paris Opera House are nothing special, they do build the mystery around the Phantom well enough. But once Christine is first abducted and we get into Erik's underground lair, we are drawn into a world that has its own spooky allure. It is a combination of mazes, canals, and lavish rooms and decorations which has an effect similar to some of the more adventurous sets and moments in later movies like those mentioned above.

The reveal of the face underneath the Phantom's mask. This
still may look a bit comical, but the scene itself has a
surprisingly powerful effect. Modern films could probably
learn something from this about how horror does not require
hyper-complex special effects. 

Is the movie still scary in any way? For the most part, no. However, the scene during which Erik's mask is pulled off and reveals his horrid face is still incredibly unnerving. The makeup work done to transform Cheney's face into such a hideous visage, paired with the framing and shooting of that scene are still incredibly affecting. I'll also say that the movie wasn't afriad to portray Erik as a completely homicidal maniac, with him outright murdering various people in rather brutal ways. It keeps the stakes high enough, even if the characters are nearly all one-dimensional. This is probably one of several steps that led to the enacting of the Hayes code several years later, but it's still fun to see the filmmakers go for it, even so long ago.

As for the characters, there's not much there. The shame of it is that the title character was ripe for some true depth and analysis, being a psychotic who clearly had a passion for and ability with music. The movie touches on Erik's background briefly, but they never get into what could have been a more interesting study of the sharp dichotomy of his character. This is probably far too much to ask from a movie made in 1925, but I can't help it as a modern viewer who's been treated to plenty of great horror movies that delve into the psyches of rich, if terrifying, characters.

Of the 40-odd silent movies I've now seen from the "Before You Die" lists, this is actually one of the few that I would consider watching again. Thanks to its fantasy and horror elements, transporting affect, and overall narrative leanness, it could be fun to see it again.

That's 591 movies down. Only 596 to go before I can die.

Before I Die #590: Seven Chances (1925)

This is the 590th movie I've seen of the 1,187 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Buster Keaton

Decent Buster Keaton flick, with some of his great visual gags, but it doesn't top one or two others I've seen.

Like the other handful of Keaton movies I've seen, this one uses a simple premise to set off all sorts of pratfalls, culminating in a sequence that goes on far to long for my modern sensibilities. Keaton plays James Shannon, a young lawyer who is part of a law firm that is near financial and professional ruin, thanks to the missteps and malfeasance of his shady partner. A ray of hope emerges, though, when Shannon receives a telegram that a wealthy uncle has died and left him an inheritance of seven million dollars. However, to receive the money, Shannon must be married by a pre-determined date - a date which happens to be the very same day that Shannon receives the message. This sends Shannon and his partner scrambling to find a bride for the potentially-new millionaire, with only a few hours to do it. Shannon first goes to his lady love to propose, but a series of misunderstandings leads her to shun him. He then grows more and more desperate with every passing hour, trying everything he can think of to convince some young woman to marry him that day.

As with the other Keaton movies I've seen, the story is hardly the point. It merely exists to set up humorous sequences and exchanges, and Keaton certainly delivers much of the time. I've always liked Keaton more than Chaplin, as I've found his deadpan look and amazing physical abilities more entertaining than the Little Tramp. Seven Chances features some great visual gags, to be sure. But I found that it was almost always the smaller, subtler ones that were the best. Shannon and his partner departing from an unnoticed second office door just after a messenger has determined to watch the primary door like a hawk. Keaton's amazingly agile about-faces when he confronts someone or something he hopes to evade. My appreciation of Keaton has always been just how watchable he is even when seemingly minor things are happening on screen.

One of the best-known images of the legendary chase scene.
This whole thing goes on for far too long, in my opinion. Then
again, I've never found chases very funny.

But the problem is that the movie features too many "big" gags, which I found overly long and not terribly interesting. The most obvious is also the one for which the film is most famous - the grand chase finale. The way the story shakes out, Shannon's business partner puts out an ad in the daily newspaper telling everyone about the inheritance and inviting any willing woman to show up at the church later that day. Of course, thousands of women show, sending Shannon on the run from hordes of cash-hungry single ladies (your Beyonce joke here). This grows into a 15-minute long chase throughout the entire town. While there are one or two funny sight gags mixed in, I found the extended chase more and more boring with every passing minute. Keaton does his best to utilize his considerable acrobatic and gymnatic skills, but the chase was more about the set pieces, props, and the hordes of women chasing after him. I simply didn't find these things as funny.

Of the handful of Keaton movies I've seen, this one falls behind Our Hospitality or even Sherlock Jr. It's definitely worth seeing for fans of Keaton or old-school silent film comedies, but don't be surprised if you zone out a bit during some of the the more prolonged sequences.

That's 590 movies down. Only 597 films to watch before I can die.

Before I Die #568: La Roue (1923) [The Wheel]

This is the 568th movie I've seen from the 1,172 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working through.

Director: Abel Gance

Early silent film dramas can really try my patience. Ones that are over two hours are even more taxing. So when I saw the running time of La Roue (French for "The Wheel") at a bulky four hours and 21 minutes, I marshaled my strength. Steeled as I was, it still was not enough to overcome the tedium that was this movie.

As with several other films from around this era - especially D.W. Griffith dramas such as Orphans of the Storm or Broken Blossoms - La Roue piles on the melodrama steady and thick. The story revolves around (see what I did there?) Sisif, his son Elie, and his daughter Norma. Sisif is a widowed railway engineer who, after a horrendous train accident, rescues the toddler Norma, whose parents have died in the wreck. Sisif takes Norma home and raises her as his own daughter, right alongside his son Elie, who is almost the same age as Norma. Though the family grows up poor, they are generally happy for some time, with neither Norma nor Elie knowing of Norma's true origins.

Once Norma becomes a young woman, however, things gradually take a dark turn. Sisif, knowing that Norma is not his biological daughter, develops a lust for her. He desperately attempts to subdue his urges and guilt through work and alcohol, but this creates more problems. He eventually attempts suicide, which fails, sending him further down a depressing spiral. Sisif ends up marrying Norma off to his boss - a greedy extortionist who also has a strong desire for the young woman. The problems complicate and grow until a fatal showdown between a couple of those involved.

This shot shows one of many effective uses of double
exposure. It also shows Sisif staring into the camera - a 
visual that became numbingly repetitive. 

For a movie released in 1924, the idea of incestuous (even adopted) lust is a rather dark and controversial topic. And generally, I did find that La Roue dealt with it in a relatively serious and commendable way, casting it all in terms of a Greek tragedy taking place within a low socio-economic class. That said, the story hardly seemed to need over four hours to be told. (I read that the original cut of the movie was over seven hours! I can't even imagine.) This is in keeping with nearly all silent dramas of the day, especially those that were innovative in terms of film grammar and technique. I can only assume that the many extended close-ups and dramatic sequences were meant to allow the audience to drink in the emotion of the story. For viewers in the 1920s, this may have been less taxing. For me, though, much of it now feels highly overwrought. Because films became much more efficient and subtle over the succeeding decades, many of the scenes in The Wheel simply drag. There were multiple times when I would zone out for a few minutes, only to bring my attention back to the movie and find that it was still in the same scene, conveying the same plot point or emotion.

I do understand why the movie is considered important. Director Abel Gance showed a mastery of editing and advanced film techniques that were on par with the all-time great directors of his day. Compared to the movies of Griffith or Von Stroheim, Gance used quick cuts, overlaps, and changing visual rhythms in ways that were still quite new for the time. And he did imbue the film with a grand, epic feeling that was rarely granted to such humanistic stories at the time. When taken with the social commentary of the tale, it is not hard to see why this movie is considered a landmark in cinema.

It is hard, however, to sit through four-and-a-half hours of it. This one is recommended only to the most devout of film historians and silent movie aficionados. 

Before I Die #563: Foolish Wives (1922)

This is the 563rd movie I've watched out of the 1,172 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Erich Von Stroheim

One of the more laborious silent films that I've watched. I can make a guess as to why it is considered a "must watch," but I had to do some mental work to arrive at this guess.

The movie follows a trio of con artists posing as Russian aristocrats in Monte Carlo during the 1920's, when the area was already a noted playground for the wealthy and "social elite." One of the thieves is an authentic Russian aristocrat, the womanizing Count Karanzim (Erich von Stroheim), but the other two are mistresses of his who are posing as his cousins. Though Karanzim is essentially broke, the three are living off counterfeit money as they hatch their newest scheme - to swindle a large amount of money from Helen Hughes - the wife of a visiting U.S. ambassador. The young and gullible Mrs. Hughes falls for Karanzim's charm, agreeing to give him the money and even falling for him romantically. Karanzim's maid, whom he has been stringing along for years, becomes jealous and attempts to burn the Count and Helen alive in their rental estate. The pair escape, but Karanzim eventually meets a brutal fate at the hands of the protective father of another of his female "conquests."

This film was a good example of why I am not a connoisseur of silent film. Like many of its peers, Foolish Wives is slow in pace and rather shallow in characters. Of course, this is an easy reaction to have when the film is seen 93 years after its release. The advances in film technique and storytelling have simply far outstripped the innovations which progressive filmmakers like Von Stroheim were employing nearly a century ago. Taken with other "classics" from the era like D.W. Griffith's Orphans of the Storm and Broken Blossoms, Foolish Wives is part of a group of older films which were essentially simple fairy tales containing a few themes that were relatively mature for their day. Every character is a one-dimensional villain, victim, or hero, with no real attempt to explore deeper motivations or emotions. It can make for rather dull viewing, especially when the story takes nearly 150 minutes to tell.

One of countless wide shots which showed scope and
perspective that only the best-funded and well-directed
movies of the era could boast.

I can only guess that the film is considered a classic because of its technical merits. The locales, sets, and costumes are as lavish as anything you are likely to see from a film made at that time period, and I imagine that this was a further growth of the scale on which a story could be told through cinema. More impressive, though, is the camerawork and editing, which is clearly among the absolute best of the era. Viewers may have to remind themselves of the context of filmmaking's history to see it, but this film was among the first to exhibit mastery of camera techniques that have long since become standards of the art.

The only other Von Stroheim movie I've seen is his much later The Grand Illusion, which was released in 1937 and which I enjoyed far more. That later film added the sophistication of plot and character that I found sorely lacking in Foolish Wives.

Before I Die #550: Dr. Mabuse, The Gambler (1922)

This original poster from Germany suggests how
titanic the title character is, looming over all.

This is the 550th of the 1,160 films on the "Before You Die" list which I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Fritz Lang

A clear and engaging step forward for film, if not exactly as "timeless" as some would have you believe.

Dr. Mabuse bears all of the typical trappings of silent films. The acting is physically exaggerated. The plot must be kept relatively simple, given the lack of sound and, hence, true dialogue. The pacing is rather slow, by any cinema standard after the advent of sound five years after this movie's release. Despite these, I found myself drawn into much of the film. It struck me as a far superior version of the 1915 film series Les Vampires, a "classic" which I found interminably dull.

The story is essentially a crime drama/suspense tale, focusing on a complex cat-and-mouse game between a nefarious mastermind criminal, Dr. Mabuse, and the state's attorney, Mr. von Wenk. Mabuse is a sort of prototype of Hannibal Lector - a brilliant but sociopathic psychoanalyst who uses his knowledge of the human mind to manipulate others into giving him what he wants. While Mabuse never does anything as grisly as the cannibalistic Lector, he does bend various people to his will, taking from some their tangible goods like money and jewels, while evoking from others their blind and unquestioning loyalty. As a concept, he's a rather terrifying figure who was a sort of twisted amalgam of the arch-villain Moriarty and a soulless Sigmund Freud, the latter of whose theories were still quite fresh upon this film's release in 1922.

The search for and pursuit of Mabuse is mostly what drives the plot and the movie. In truth, the story takes far too long to tell. The movie was actually two films that add up to a four-and-a-half hour epic. If the same story had been told with more efficient pacing, though, it should really only have been two or two-and-a-half hours, maximum. There are still many sequences that were clearly products of their time - scenes of simple movement of bodies and props, rather than any actions or interactions which further or deepen the story. I only assume that, like all other films of its time, such scenes were enough to dazzle audiences for whom movies were far from a typical part of life. Fortunately, the movie is divided into many acts, which made for convenient pausing when the length got too taxing for me.

When not trying one's patience a bit with overlong scenes, though, the plot is a classic criminal pursuit. What sets this apart from others from the era, though, is the relative psychological complexity of Mabuse himself, as well as a few of the secondary characters. Admittedly, most of the characters are typically one-dimensional "heroes" or "villains;" but Mabuse and a few of his victims show more depth than one would find in contemporary films like those of D.W. Griffith. Mabuse's motivations go beyond mere greed, and the swell of his boundless megalomania can be fascinating.

Just one of the many scenes which exhibit Lang's eye for
striking set designs and shot framing. These techniques,
along with overlap dissolves and other special effects, really
set this movie apart from nearly all of its contemporaries.

The other obvious merit of this movie is the highly skilled film technique which Lang was employing. While there are plenty of "filler" sequences which are no different from any other silent films of the time, there are many striking scenes. With a keen eye for framing, composition, and set design, Lang put together many truly artistic moments in this movie. You can easily see some of the creative seeds that would eventually grow into the style that he would use several years later in his masterpiece Metropolis, the film that is widely regarded as the "Omega" of German expressionist movies.

Though there were some contemporary films that probed the human condition and social woes with more depth and pathos, such as Micheaux's Within Our Gates, Dr. Mabuse is clearly a titanic film. I suppose it to be too long and simplistic to win over viewers with no interest in silent films. However, those with any curiosity about a major early step in the evolution of film will find much to appreciate in this 93-year-old classic.

That's 550 films down. Only 610 to go before I can die...

Before I Die #540: The Smiling Madame Beudet (1922)

This is the 540th I've now watched of the 1,162 films to see "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Germaine Dulac

It's a short, sharp little tale, and it's one that features a ton of early innovative film techniques.

The Beudets: one miserable wife and one oblivious husband.
If it weren't so short, this film would be a chore to watch for
most modern viewers. 

Clocking in at a very spare 26 minutes, The Smiling Madame Beudet tells the story of an intelligent middle-aged woman stuck in a loveless marriage. She escapes the drudgery of life with her boorish husband by daydreaming of a more glamorous life. Her husband is fond of playing a trite gag in which he will put an empty pistol to his head and pretend to be suicidal. One day, his wife puts a bullet in the gun, hoping for her husband to unwittingly kill himself. The story goes more from here, with a tragic twist.

The movie is far too short to become boring, and it is an interesting piece of early cinema. One reason is that it uses several early techniques such as overlap dissolve and other editing tricks to offer visuals which were rather novel for their day. A modern viewer will likely not be impressed, but it helps to keep in mind when the film was made.

Some research reveals that The Smiling Madame Beudet is also credited with being one of the earliest feminist films. Feminism in movies has evolved by leaps and bounds since 1922, especially within the last thirty to forty years, so this 93-year-old movie will not offer you anything new on that front. Still, this fact does cement its place in film history.

It's hardly a "must watch" movie, though real film history buffs will certainly appreciate much of it.

Thanks to the marvel of public domain, you can even watch it, legally, for free:

That's 540 films down. Only 622 to go before I can die...

Before I Die #522: The Phantom Carriage (1921)

Original Swedish Title: Korkarlen.

Director: Victor Sjostrom

A silent film that exhibits some impressive advancements for its day. Unfortunately, its day was 94 years ago.

Actually, The Phantom Carriage was a nice change of pace from the other silent films I've watched recently, in that it tells a ghost story in the vein of Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, though with a much darker tone. It follows the story of David Holm, a vicious and miserable man who lives for little more than drinking and making other people's lives as unpleasant as his own. he has abused his wife to the point that she has left him, taking their two young daughters. This has sent Holm on a prideful quest for vengeance upon his wife. Along the way, the tuberculosis-stricken man constantly tries to infect others with both his physical disease and his venomous hatred for others.

He tracks his wife to a town where a Salvation Army nurse, Maria, tries to assist him, despite his brutal rebuffs. Maria persists, though, and she does manage to reunite Holm with his wife and children. But Holm is hardly a changed man, and he soon resumes his past abusive behavior. Even worse, Maria has contracted tuberculosis herself, and her health goes into a rapid decline.

Holm's wife eventually leaves him again, and he hits the streets as a hate-filled vagabond. On New Year's Eve, his tuberculosis finally kills him, but this is hardly the end. His soul awakes to find a spectral carriage waiting for him, but not to transport him to the afterlife. As the final person to die before the new year begins, Holm is destined to take the mantle of the coachman, reaping all the dead souls for the following year. The horror-stricken man goes into a panic, and he is forced to revisit all the suffering that he has visited upon others in his life, before he takes on his new posthumous task.

The movie is one of the better ones I've watched from the silent film era, though easily one of the grimmest in overall tone. No other films that I've seen from the time period dealt so readily with spousal abuse, degenerate behavior, and widespread death in the way that The Phantom Carriage did. And the acting, while still far less organic that modern performances, is noticeably more natural than many of its contemporaries, including other classic contemporary films like Broken Blossoms or Way Down East. There are several powerfully brief and subtle facial expressions by Holm that offer the hint of the tortured human beneath the prickly exterior. These more delicate suggestions of character are some of the most engaging in the movie.

While certainly a striking effect, the film gives us overly
long sequences featuring the ghastly coachman riding along
on the phantom carriage.

The movie did, though, require a fair amount of patience on my part. Many of scenes belabor their points a tad too long. This is also true of the special effect of the titular phantom carriage itself. The ghostly appearance of the coach, achieved with double exposure, was surely an impressive and haunting effect back in 1920. The problem is that the filmmakers were all too aware of this and milked it for far too long. There are a few overly long sequences of the carriage slowly moving along different landscapes for minute after minute. The visual ingenuity was probably amazing in its day, but nearly all viewers in the 21st century are likely to find it tiresome.

The Phantom Carriage is a good silent film, but it is still not one that I would recommend to anyone but fans of silent film. Viewers with no interest in films from this era are unlikely to have the wherewithal to sit through its 104 minutes, just to enjoy a handful of transcendent moments. 

Before I Die #520: Way Down East (1920)

Director: D.W. Griffiths

This is a film that clearly stood out in its day. By tackling the sensitive social issue of gender inequality and double standards, Griffiths wasn't going down an easy road. For that, the film is highly commendable. However, like nearly all silent films viewed nearly a century later, this one didn't hold my attention for its two-and-a-half hour duration.

The story follows Anna Moore (Lillian Gish), a simple girl living in very modest circumstances in New England. In an attempt to garner some much-needed financial support, Anna travels down to Manhattan to visit some extremely wealthy relatives. In the middle of the upper-class jet set, she is seduced by a wealthy and unscrupulous playboy, Lennox Sanderson. Sanderson not only seduces her, but sets up a sham marriage in order to deceive and sleep with her. Anna becomes pregnant, Sanderson abandons her to her fate, and she eventually loses the baby to illness.

Anna is, quite literally, shown the door after the conservative
and bombastic Mr. Bartleby learns of her "shameful" past.

Now a "stained woman," Anna moves to a new town, where she assumes a new name and finds work doing various chores for the Bartelbys - a prosperous farming family; however, the family lives near the estate of the Sanderson family, whose son Lennox was the cause of Anna's misery. The Bartleby son, David (Richard Barthelmess), falls in love with Anna and hopes to marry her. Eventually, though, Anna's past catches up with her. Through gossip, people learn about her past "marriage" and child, and her employer turns her out. In a fit of misery, Anna becomes lost and almost drowns in the nearby frozen river, but David manages to save her. The two get married, along with two other couples in the town.

If the film had stuck to telling the story summarized above, it probably would have been an hour shorter, much more intense, far tighter, and a film that holds up extremely well 94 years later. Alas, the film doesn't maintain a coherent tone. Mixed in throughout an otherwise thought-provoking tale are bewildering moments of slapstick comedy more at home in a Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin movie, though not nearly as funny. It seemed an extremely odd film for such things. My guess is that this was simply to keep hold of a 1920 mainstream audience's attention, instead of having them deal with a heavy drama the entire time.

Another reason that this movie was a bit taxing is the same reason as nearly every other silent film - the overblown gesticulations. Admittedly, Lillian Gish was much more subtle in her gestures and movements, which was what made her one of the greats of her era. Richard Barthelmess is a bit more nuanced, as well. Nearly all other actors, though, go over the top. The stomp around, contort their faces, and generally act as if they are still giving a stage performance for children. I understand that this was all a part of the great transition from stage to film in the first few decades of cinematic storytelling, but it doesn't make it any easier to watch.

The rejected and dejected Anna, passed out on an ice floe,
awaiting a death that would a welcome release. But hey,
it's still Hollywood, right? We know Hollywood can't
let such a dismal thing happen.

The climax of the film is a mixed bag for me. The scene on the river is actually very impressive. There are some well-done stunts with David hopscotching across ice floes to rescue Anna, which could not have been easy to pull off with 1920 technology and effects. Yet it still looks pretty decent. I must admit, though, that the "all's well that ends well" ending was a tad disappointing. Maybe it was a bit of pandering to the audience again, but I feel the film would have had far more power if Anna had been allowed to die, leaving those responsible to live with how their attitudes caused it. Instead, we have a male hero dash in and save the damsel in distress, which somewhat perpetuates the stereotypes that the movie sought to tear down.

It's a good movie, to be sure, but I'll never need to watch it again. The theme holds great weight, and there is some notable acting, set design, and technical skill. Still, the movie has lost more than a little since it was created.