Pandora's Box (1929).

The Scoop:
Silent screen legend Louise Brooks had her signature performance as Lulu in this German masterpiece. She entices, she allures, she arouses, and today, 80 years later, she still breaks hearts, both male and female alike.

Brooks' performance, still among the sexiest and most charming ever in screen history, anchors G.W. Pabst's tearjerker about a reckless party girl who gets her comeuppance at the hands of Jack the Ripper.

Once you get beyond Louise Brooks, the rest of the film is fairly conventional, but very well executed. Based on a pair of popular German plays by Frank Wedekind, some of the subject matter went beyond the bounds of what Hollywood was doing at the time, although the basic "rise and fall of an evil, heartbreaking woman" plot -- and the troubling view of women's sexuality it presented -- was a cliché even by that point. But there are also good performances by Fritz Kortner and Francis Lederer, as the father and son who get ruined by Lulu's lust. And director Pabst does a superb job of holding it all together and bringing out the best in his leading lady. And as if that wasn't enough, her haircut became iconic and started a fashion trend.

The strong-willed Brooks, who was beginning to make a name for herself in Hollywood, fled to Germany to make "Pandora's Box" out of frustration over the lack of good roles available back home. The powers that be in Hollywood never forgave her for that, though, and this movie, which launched her to superstardom, also marked the effective end of her acting career.

This film, and Brooks in particular, contain all the elements of which greatness is made, and provide a marvelous swan song for the silent era.

Best Bit:
Lulu and Alice's dance.

Side Note:
Countess Anna, played by Alice Roberts, is believed to be the first lesbian character depicted in film. Roberts didn't realize her character was gay until filming began, and although she wanted to walk off the film, she was persuaded to stay and not break her contract.

Companion Viewing:
"It" (1927).

Links:
IMDb.
Lenin Imports.
Senses of Cinema.
Silent Volume.

Take a Look:
Watch it on the YouTube installment plan, beginning here:

It (1927).

The Scoop:
Here she is -- Clara Bow in all her glory.

Although she was already a rising star, her role as "the It girl" catapulted her career into the stratosphere. Her performance as the free-spirited store clerk looking for love in the big is still a landmark, raising the film above its purely mercenary origins. "It" was conceived a not-quite-blatant promotion for Elinor Glyn's advice book-cum-novel of the same name, which set forth her vision of how young women should act to nab the men of their dreams (essentially an early version of "The Rules" or "Mars and Venus," or any of the other bogus relationship help books that still pop up from time to time).

Unfortunately, Clara's stay at the top would be short-lived. In spite of her charismatic presence, she wound up becoming one of the many victims of the film industry's shift to sound production. She could never quite shake her strident Brooklynese accent (think Fran Drescher through a megaphone) and the clunky early sound recording equipment forced her to bottle up her energetic acting style and stand still while on camera. Her final film, "Hoop-La," came out in 1933, just six short years after her success with "It."

Glyn's book may be a relic of the Roaring Twenties, but Clara and the movie still live on. Delectable.

Best Line:
"Sweet Santa Claus, give me HIM!"

Side Note:
Look out for a cameo by a pre-fame Gary Cooper as a newspaper reporter. Like so many of the young men in Clara Bow movies, he wound up as her sexual partner.

Companion Viewing:
For a couple of other great silent screen sirens, check out "Pandora's Box" (1929) with Louise Brooks and "A Fool There Was" (1915) with Theda Bara. To compare "It" with Clara's sound work, there's "The Wild Party" (1929), which features a great concept and Clara's bubbly personality both squashed by the limitations of the medium, and "Call Her Savage" (1932), her best talkie performance.

Links:
IMDb.
Silents Are Golden.
The Clara Bow Page.

Take a Look:
That Clara, she's a charmer:


A trip to the carnival:

The Ghost of Slumber Mountain (1918).

The Scoop:
This short film by the legendary Willis O'Brien (best known for creating the original King Kong) and his partner Herbert Dawley is one of the earliest examples of stop-motion animation on film.

The plot is simple -- two young boys ask their Uncle Jack to tell them a story, and he weaves a yarn about meeting the ghost of an old hermit on a mountain trip, who gives him magical binoculars which let Jack see into the prehistoric past. The prehistoric scenes, featuring O'Brien's stop-motion dinosaurs and birds, will probably seem crude by today's standards (not to mention the standards of O'Brien's later works), but still exude a certain charm. The seeds of O'Brien's later, more famous, work can already be seen. And if you watch it with a certain sense of humor, the rest of the plot becomes bizarrely entertaining.

The project started life as a feature, but after the usual "creative differences" Dawley cut down the film to 18 minutes and removed O'Brien's name. O'Brien would get the last laugh, though, by taking many of the concepts and models from "The Ghost of Slumber Mountain" and using them for 1925's "The Lost World," his breakthrough film that launched his long, legendary career.

Best Line:
"I tried to convince Joe to take off his clothes and pose as a faun."

Side Note:
Besides writing and producing the film together, O'Brien and Dawley also costar in it -- O'Brien as "Mad Dick" the hermit, and Dawley as Uncle Jack.

Companion Viewing:
"The Lost World" (1925).

Links:
IMDb.
1,000 Misspent Hours.

Take a Look:
The full film:

Manhatta (1921).

The Scoop:
The rise of modernism in art brought with it not only the elevation of abstract forms and structure, but also a faith in mechanical progress. The signature media of modernism -- photography, architecture and film -- celebrated modern machinery, the emerging American metropolis and the products of each. A bold new century required a bold new vision supplied by an energetic new generation artists. Among these were Paul Strand and Charles Sheeler.

Strand was a photographer whose pioneering work helped separate photography from the painterly conventions of the 19th century and establish its own aesthetic. While Sheeler was a photographer as well, his best known work came as a painter. But his canvases revealed a strong photographic sensibility at a time when most other painters were caught up in the maelstrom of cubism and, later, abstract expressionism.

Which brings us to "Manhatta," a collaboration between Strand and Sheeler meant to celebrate the modernist vision of New York City, with its new, towering skyscrapers and bustling population. Both artists were experimenting with motion pictures at the time and worked together compile this 10-minute short film, a collection of images of the city -- from the ships in its harbor, to the crowds in its streets, to its majestic skyline. The film is based on Walt Whitman's poem "Mannahatta," and excerpts from that work are used as intertitles.

While there are some impressive individual shots, they don't hang together as a narrative whole, particularly toward the end. And the intertitles just distract from the flow of the imagery. While "Manhatta" does not rank among Strand's or Sheeler's best work, it is a fascinating experiment from two great artists and also offers a great rare look at a much younger NYC.

Best Bit:
That one shot of the Brooklyn Bridge's supports, which is pure Strand.

Side Note:
"Manhatta" was added to the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress in 1995. By that point, the original negative of the film had long since been destroyed and only a single, damaged 35mm print was known to survive That print was used as the source for the digital restoration that's available today.

Companion Viewing:
"Koyaanisqatsi" (1982) -- although I love the fact that IMDb's automated recommendations include "Escape From New York" and Peter Jackson's remake of "King Kong."

Links:
IMDb.
Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Take a Look:
The full film, with a modern electronic soundtrack:


...and with a conventional soundtrack, if that's your preference:

The Wizard of Oz (1925).

The Scoop:
It is best to check your expectations at the door with this silent screen adaptation of L. Frank Baum's novel. It is a very different creature than the classic Judy Garland version.

What it is, mainly, is a vanity project for popular silent film comedian Larry Semon. Not only did he star in the film as the Scarecrow, but he also directed and co-wrote (along with L. Frank Baum Jr. and Leon Lee). The result strays pretty far from both the novel and the 1939 film. There are no witches, no yellow brick road, no Muchkins, and no Toto. What plot is left is minimal -- Dorothy, who was born the princess of Oz and sent to Kansas as an infant (for reasons that are never adequately explained), is whisked off to her homeland with some friends (who merely dress up in the familiar parts of the Scarecrow, Tin Woodsman and Cowardly Lion) and reclaims her throne with only token opposition.

The rest of the film's running time is filled, essentially, with Semon's ego, rendered in the form of seemingly endless, unfunny pratfall sequences and long, loving close-ups of Dorothy (played by his wife, Dorothy Dwan). The physical comedy is, frankly, a product of its time and, as such, does not hold up well today. It is well performed, particularly by Semon and the young, up-and-coming Oliver Hardy (as the Tin Woodsman), but isn't very inventive. Especially when compared to the work of Semon's contemporaries, Buster Keaton and Charles Chaplin.

And then there's the Cowardly Lion, played as a mincing charicature by African-American actor Spencer Bell, who is also given the unfortunate screen name of G. Howe Black.

It is sad to say, but an evening watching this movie is just not time well spent.

Best Line:
"In spring, the young man's fancy turns to -- lollipops."

Side Note:
The androgynous Phantom of the Basket is played by Frederick Ko Vert, a well-known drag performer of the time. He had a handful of similar film roles throughout the 1920s, and also designed the costumes for "The Wizard of Oz."

Companion Viewing:
"The Wizard of Oz" (1939).

Links:
IMDb.
Verdoux.

Take a Look:
An abridged version of the first half of the film:

The Ten Commandments (1923).

The Scoop:
Cecil B. DeMille's first version of his classic film "The Ten Commandments" contains many similarities to the later, more popular movie, while also containing many of the conventions of the silent era. The story is told in two parts -- an extended prologue telling the Biblical story of Moses, and a morality tale set in modern times.

The prologue, which was the only part remade by DeMille, is the best, containing many classic moments. It's these parts that work best for modern viewers, since they are also the parts DeMille later reused in the remake with little alteration. At its heart is the thrilling chase scene between the Israelis led by Moses (Theodore Roberts) and the army commanded by Pharoah Ramses (Charles de Rochefort) that culminates in the parting of the Red Sea.

After setting the mood with the history of how the Ten Commandments came to be, DeMille jumps us ahead to early 20th century America to see the power of the commandments in action. This modern story -- concerning a long suffering mother (Edythe Chapman), her good son (Richard Dix), sinful son (Rod La Roque) and the woman the two men love (Leatrice Joy) -- has not aged well. There's very little drama here, just heavy-handed examples of sin and redemption. Completely preachy and overwrought. Unless you've got a strong curiosity about that sort of thing, just stick with the first half.

Best Bit:
The death of Pharoah's son.

Side Note:
The screenwriter Jeanie Macpherson started out as an actress and went on to become one of the pioneering female writers and directors in silent films, as well as one of the 36 founding members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

Companion Viewing:
"The Ten Commandments" (1956) and "Intolerance" (1916).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
Moses uses the power of early visual effects to part the Red Sea:

The Busher (1919).

The Scoop:
This baseball themed drama is pretty standard fare for its era -- perhaps even somewhat conservative, given that it is preaching the evils of big city life at a time when the film industry (and mass entertainment as a whole) was embracing the joys of urbanization.

Charles Ray (the reigning heartthrob of his day) plays Ben Harding, a small town pitching star who gets discovered by a major league club and heads to the big city. While there, he turns his back on his hometown supporters and succumbs to the requisite temptations of booze, women and gambling. He eventually washes out, returning to his hometown in disgrace. But out of that disgrace comes the chance to redeem himself and win back the girl he loves.

The look at old-time baseball is fun, but the rest hasn't aged well and the last half of the movie is just plain tedious.

Best Line:
"Take it from me -- that guy's got more curves than a stovepipe!"

Side Note:
Ray's costarring cast includes Colleen Moore and John Gilbert, who would both go on to eclipse his stardom in the silent era, only to find their careers stalled after the advent of the talkies.

Companion Viewing:
"Headin' Home" (1920) and "The Natural" (1984).

Links:
IMDb.
Silents are Golden.

Take a Look:
Sorry, nothing to offer you on this one. Obviously, there are still a few holes to fill in the Internet.

Headin' Home (1920).

The Scoop:
Terrific vintage baseball footage highlights this film, which was designed as a vehicle to showcase the New York Yankees' newest slugger, Babe Ruth.

Ruth was the first great media superstar in the world of sports, becoming a household name as much for his appetites (for food, booze and women, not necessarily in that order) as for the way he single-handedly changed the face of baseball. And "Headin' Home" marked the start of this. It was his film debut (he plays himself, a role he would return to often) and purports to tell the story of his rise from a mispent youth in Haverlock, Maryland, to the baseball superstardom.

The scenes that bookend the movie are authentic, shot at actual Yankees games in the old Polo Grounds (their home before Yankee Stadium opened) and are a real treat for fans of baseball history.

Of course, the story that comes in between is more fanciful than factual. We're treated to scenes of Ruth carving his own bats from trees he chopped down, saving little girls' beloved pets from the evil dogcatcher, and rescuing damsels in distress. But the film catches him at his youthful best -- slim and full of energy, not the broken down older Babe we would see is his later, better known films and newsreel footage.

However, through all the trite silent comedy shenanigans and slow second half, Ruth's larger-than-life personality shines through and it is that, along with the game footage, that makes "Headin' Home" worth a look.

Best Bit:
The dog-in-the-meat-grinder dream sequence. Eep!

Side Note:
The Babe's love interest is played by Ruth Taylor, who would later become the mother of writer/comedian/actor Buck Henry.

Companion Viewing:
"The Babe Ruth Story" (1948) and "The Natural" (1984).

Links:
IMDb.
Silents are Golden.

Take a Look:
This clip strings together scenes from several silent baseball films, but the first features the Babe hitting his big home run in "Headin' Home":


The full film is available at the Internet Archive.

And, just for fun, here's the 1932 short "Fancy Curves," in which Babe tries to coach up a women's baseball team:

Greed (1924).

The Scoop:
Avarice, violence, hate -- it's all here, every bit of the dark side of human nature. "Greed" is an adaptation of the Frank Norris novel "McTeague," about the disasterous consequences a lottery jackpot has on the lives of two men (Gibson Gowland and Jean Hersholt) who are battling over the same woman (Zasu Pitts). The film is also both Erich von Stroheim's masterpiece and perhaps the most notorious example of loss of creative control in film history.

The original director's cut was nearly nine hours long and was only shown once, to a group of studio executives. After the studio took control, the film was edited down to only 140 minutes. Most of the outtakes were eventually destroyed. Several attempts at reconstructing the movie have been made by film scholars over the years, but it was not until 1999 that Turner Classic Movies released the most complete restoration.

Using the small amount of surviving outtakes and still photographs from the lost scenes, the newest version runs just over four hours. While that might be a mind-numbing length for most movies, "Greed" holds its own the whole way -- and still feels incomplete. Too bad this is probably the most complete version we will ever get to see.

Best Bit:
The grim ending, shot on location in Death Valley. (The 37-day shoot was just as hard on the actors as it was on the characters. Hersholt lost 27 pounds and had to be hospitalized when it was all over.)

Side Note:
Herscholt was better known for his philanthropic efforts, and is the namesake of the Jean Herscholt Humanitarian Award given at the Oscars. He was also the uncle of actor Leslie Nielsen.

Companion Viewing:
"The Treasure of the Sierra Madre" (1948).

Links:
IMDb.
Frank Norris' original novel.
Fan site.

Take a Look:
TCM offers this spoiler-y clip from the Death Valley sequence. Watch with caution!

Newsreel footage of the cast and crew trekking into Death Valley:

A Fool There Was (1915).

The Scoop:
Theda Bara was the first of the silver screen's sex goddesses, and this is the film that launched her reputation. In fact, the word "vamp" was invented specifically by the studio (the Willam Fox Vaudeville Company, the ancestor of today's Fox Film Corporation) to describe her in this role.

The plot and script are conventional for the era -- a loose women tempts then ruins a series of wealthy men -- and it can be rough slogging for the modern viewer. But Bara's performance alone makes it memorable and worth watching today. It would be nothing without her. Every celebrity sex symbol and every movie vixen to come after owes a major debt to Theda.

Best Line:
"Kiss me, my Fool!"

Side Note:
The lack of preservation of early films has really taken its toll on the work of Theda Bara -- she was the biggest star of her time, but the only other feature films of hers that still exist in their entirety are her pre-fame "The Stain" (1914) and "The Unchastened Woman" (1925), which was made on the downside of her career.

Companion Viewing:
"It" (1926) and "Pandora's Box" (1929).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
You can see the film in its entirety on YouTube:

Queen Kelly (1929).

The Scoop:
Produced by star Gloria Swanson and her paramour Joseph Kennedy, this film really belongs to the extravagant director Erich von Stroheim, who imbued this routine romantic melodrama with his usual opulent and perverse excesses. The result is another of von Stroheim's unfinished masterpieces -- truncated, yet with just enough of his genius intact to tantalize the viewer with what might have been.

Swanson plays the title character, a poor waif whose love affair with a dallying prince (Walter Byron) earns her the wrath of the princess (Seena Owen, who, in the most famous scene, whips Kelly before throwing her out of the palace) and personal struggles in the African jungle. The story is strictly formula for the period, and the only reason to watch it today is for von Stroheim's signature direction.

Unhappy with his work and far overbudget, Swanson fired von Stroheim before the film was finished and, although it was finished later by famed cinematographer Gregg Toland, it was not released in the U.S. until the 1950s. It was such an expensive boondoggle that it effectively ended both Swanson's and von Stroheim's careers in Hollywood (not that the director needed any further help with that by this point).

Best Bit:
The S&M fire of the whipping scene.

Side Note:
Years later, Swanson made her comeback in "Sunset Boulevard" (1950) as a vain former silent movie star and was able to convince director Billy Wilder to cast von Stroheim in the role of her character's former director turned chauffeur. As if those real-life parallels for the two weren't enough, clips of "Queen Kelly" are used as one of the films the characters had made together.

Companion Viewing:
"The Merry Widow" (1925).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
There's a lengthy (but frustratingly unembeddable) clip here, which includes the whipping scene.

The Crowd (1928).

(No, Desuko's summer hiatus isn't over yet, but I just thought I'd toss up another review to let you all know this site hasn't disappeared altogether. Expect the regular update schedule to resume in mid-July. In the meantime...)

The Scoop:
Writer/director King Vidor's masterpiece is one of the unheralded classics of the silent era. The story follows a young man (played by the appropriately anonymous James Murray, who never had another starring role) who goes to New York to make his name, only to find tragedy as a faceless member of "the crowd," that teeming mass of striving humanity that populates any large city.

The film shows the influence of the German expressionist movement of the time, not just in its visual style, but also in its theme of humanity being warped and crushed by the industrialism of the modern age. But this pathos is interlaced with touches of humor and presented with a visual creativity that's rarely been matched.

To capture the authentic look and feel of the streets of the big city, Vidor shot on location and went to great lengths to hide the cameras from passersby. There is even one shot of a policeman hassling Vidor and his crew to "move along," which was kept in the film for effect.

"The Crowd" is a real treat, and should be one of the first stops for any exploration of the silent era.

Best Bit:
The camera going down the giant slide at Coney Island.

Side Note:
Production dragged on so long that costar Eleanor Boardman had enough time to get pregnant and deliver her child, all before shooting wrapped.

Companion Viewing:
"Greed" (1924), "Metropolis" (1926) and "Brazil" (1985).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
Apparently there are no clips available online, so here are some stills to give you an idea...

The Scarlet Letter (1926).

The Scoop:
Even into the 1920s, Nathaniel Hawthorne's most famous novel was still being censored in many parts of the country, so mounting a film version was no mean feat. Star Lillian Gish was the driving force behind getting this film made, and it was her years of persistence in petitioning studio executives and local morality groups that finally paid off in the release of this film. And she didn't stop there; she followed through with one of her finest performances of her career. Her interpretation of Hester Prynne is still vivid and moving more than eight decades later.

In addition, this adaptation by writer Frances Marion and director Victor Sjöström boasts gorgeous cinematography and the resotred print from 2000 has a wonderful new score by Lisa Ann Miller and Mark Northam. Forget Demi Moore -- Gish's Hester Prynne is perhaps the definitive screen interpretation of that classic character (particularly during the devestating punishment scene), making this one of the greatest silents ever made. Even Lars Hanson's occasional overemoting as Arthur Dimmesdale cannot dampen the power of this movie.

Best Line:
"It would be pleasant, sir, to walk beside thee and hear thee condemn me for my sins."

Side Note:
Before coming to MGM to make this movie, Gish had previously directed "Remodeling Her Husband" (1920), starring her sister Dorothy.

Companion Viewing:
"Greed" (1924).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
You can stream the whole film from Google Video.