July, 2007
GOLDEN SILENTS
If I were a genie from a magic lamp and I could perform any wonder of my choosing, I would transport everyone I know—and a few million young moviegoers, as well—to the Castro Theatre to share the experience of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival. This annual event, now in its twelfth year, has become a shining example of how to present great films, rarities, and informational conversations about the state of film preservation for a large and appreciative audience. It’s not just a bunch of old fogies screening vintage movies; this is an elegant event which reflects the sensibilities and cultural vibe of that most cosmopolitan of California cities.
Artistic director Stephen Salmons, Executive Director Stacey Wisnia, and Judy Wyler Sheldon, president of the Board of Directors (and daughter of the great William Wyler) lead a dedicated team of movie-lovers and volunteers to make this weekend truly memorable. They don’t miss a trick, from preparing informative slide-shows preceding each film, to forming alliances with a variety of cultural organizations for special presentations.
The lineup this year was especially tantalizing, a canny combination of bona fide classics and lesser-known titles. For its opening night attraction, the festival committee chose one of my all-time favorite movies, Ernst Lubitsch’s The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927). I’ve always adored this picture, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it play as well as it did to a packed Friday night crowd, in a beautiful 35mm print on the enormous Castro screen, accompanied by Dennis James on the Mighty Wurlitzer. Dennis is a showman through and through, not just an accompanist, and he makes use of the instrument’s wide range of capabilities to wring every drop of humor or heartbreak out of a film. He also made excellent use of “The Drinking Song” from Sigmund Romberg’s operetta score.
The icing on the cake was a moving and eloquent introduction by San Francisco Chronicle film critic Mick LaSalle, who managed to crystallize the essence of this film and the Festival surrounding it. “This has nothing to do with nostalgia,” he said. “It’s not about looking to the past, but about finding the present in the past.” (I wish I had a transcript of his entire speech, and if I were to use my genie’s power, I would reproduce it here.) Incidentally, in keeping with that “no stone left unturned” policy of the SFSFF, the opening night, cosponsored by the Goethe-Institut in San Francisco , wound up with a party featuring German food and an oom-pah band.
The audience at the Festival is surprisingly diverse. For a Hal Roach comedy program on Saturday morning there were a fair number of kids, which added to the fun. At the opening night party a young man introduced himself to me and explained that The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg had been the first silent film he’d ever seen! I asked him what impelled him to come, and he told me that the event sounded interesting enough for him to take a chance on buying a weekend pass. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like this fellow before, but I would give anything to send him on a speaking tour, like a revivalist preacher, to spread the gospel of silent film and the notion of opening oneself up to new experiences.
One of the joys of this weekend was hearing such a variety of music in conjunction with the movies. One wouldn’t think that silent film accompaniment is a growth industry, yet the array of talent, including relative newcomers to the field, was dazzling. Dennis James is a past master on the theater organ, but I’d never heard Clark Wilson before, and he was equally good if notably different in his style. After seeing Alla Nazimova’s Camille (1921) with Rudolph Valentino, it seemed to me that Wilson gave the best performance of all. He managed to bring nuance and subtlety to a film that didn’t have those qualities on its own. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra did yeoman service by recreating the original score for William A. Wellman’s Beggars of Life (1928), bringing a surprisingly low-key approach to this mood piece. Although he has been one of the Museum of Modern Art ’s stalwart musicians for many years, I had never heard Donald Sosin in person before, and he too was superb, even tackling the daunting task of supporting four slapstick comedy shorts at the Hal Roach program. I can’t think of anyone who could have done a better job.
If I seem to be tripping over my superlatives, it’s because the San Francisco Silent Film Festival was such a bountiful experience. Even Charlie Tabesh, Vice President of Programming for Turner Classic Movies, who was honored over the weekend along with TCM host Robert Osborne, was quick to point out that he didn’t consider watching films on his channel to be a substitute for seeing them in a great theater like the Castro.
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Serge Bromberg, of France ’s LobsterFilm, charmed us all with a program he has presented in Paris for many years called La Retour de Flamme–-literally “saved from the flames.” The short films he presented were made during the first decade of the twentieth century, but I doubt that many people have seen them looking as good as they did in these exceptional 35mm prints, many with original tints and hand-stenciled colors. Bromberg completes the picture with his enthusiastic introductions and piano accompaniment.
An archival program offered Patrick Loughney of George Eastman House, Mike Mashon of the Library of Congress, and Rob Stone of the UCLA Film and Television Archive an opportunity to discuss some of their activities and show off some recent restorations and acquisitions. There is little in the silent film spectrum that wasn’t covered in some way over the course of this weekend. Rob brought along a sampling of what he calls peripheral films—trailers, promotional shorts, and the like—which I could watch all day long.
Louise Brooks fans, who are legion, packed the Castro on Saturday night for the screening of Beggars of Life, Jim Tully’s tale of hoboes in which she and Richard Arlen make an absolutely gorgeous duo. It was introduced by William Wellman, Jr., the able keeper of his father’s flame. The 35mm print was enlarged from the only surviving copy of this important film, a 16mm original owned by the late William K. Everson. I first saw this when Bill screened that print many years ago, but I never dreamt that it was a unique copy. It made a surprisingly good transition to 35mm, although some of the beautiful lighting suffered somewhat because of wear and tear to the original. (I asked Pat Loughney if it would be possible—or feasible—to now digitize that 35mm blowup, improve the contrast and remove some of the scratches, then transfer it back to film. He anticipated my question and said it’s one of his priorities to do just that. Modern technology offers possibilities for film restoration that didn’t exist just ten years ago.)
The Eastman House also provided a series of unusual short subjects rescued in recent years from an obsolete format (28mm) and restored to 35mm. These included actuality films like How a Cowboy Makes His Lariat to a travelogue offering a time-trip to Castle Hot Springs Resort in Arizona . One of my favorites was a domestic comedy starring the popular team of Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew called Her Obsession. Here is a delightful situation comedy that’s devoid of slapstick, relying instead on clever situations, dialogue cards, and the winning performances of its stars to put over a charming story about a wife who’s obsessed with losing weight.
Anyone who thinks that special effects have to be generated by a computer would do well to study the hair-raising runaway train sequence in the 1927 feature Valley of the Giants, which to these eyes (and those around me) seems to have been filmed “for real,” using flatbed cars loaded with lumber. When the train inevitably jumps the tracks and the contents are spilled, they hurl into a gulley and crash right in front of the camera, sending splinters into the lens!
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The weekend came to a rousing finish as Dennis James accompanied another great 35mm print, of Cecil B. DeMille’s last silent film, The Godless Girl (which will be included in this year’s DVD set Treasures III: Social Issues in American Film, from the National Film Preservation Foundation). The come-on for this movie is that its heroine, played by Lina Basquette, is a wild-eyed advocate for atheism who stirs up trouble at an all-American high school, butting heads with handsome, God-fearing James Duryea, the son of a minister. But Jeanie Macpherson’s heavy-breathing screenplay makes straw figures of both characters, who by the second half of the story all but forget their passionate beliefs and spend most of their time mooning over each other. That second half, by the way, takes place at the most horrific juvenile detention center ever put on screen, with a leering Noah Beery as the head guard!
The Godless Girl gets sillier as it goes along, and it seems to go on for days, but Dennis James’ energy never flagged and he, as much as DeMille, held the audience in his grip to a very late hour on Sunday night. One thing you can always say about C.B.—he was never dull. We all left the Castro tired but happy... and I for one can’t wait for next year’s festival. To learn more, go to www.silentfilm.org.
