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I've been so long in responding to the comment Who Am Us Anyway left the other day that I thought I'd just turn it into a short, blabbery post.
"You know, Who, I read a throwaway line in this week's New Yorker magazine that serves as the antithesis of the movie reviewing philosophy we adhere to here at the Monkey. In an article called "Tune In Next Week," Emily Nussbaum wrote:
As viewers, we rely on hierarchies to govern our notion of television ambition: cable trumps network, drama is better than sitcom, adult is worthier than teen, realistic is more grownup than sci-fi, grim beats sunny, PBS documentary tops Bravo reality show, and 'as good as Dickens' is superior to anything resembling a soap opera.
I don't know that Nussbaum meant that seriously Nussbaum doesn't believe in those hierarchies any more than I do, but I do know plenty of people who would take it seriously, especially if you substitute 'film' for 'television' and 'Erich von Stroheim' and 'Douglas Fairbanks' for, respectively, "PBS documentary" and 'Bravo reality show.' And I'm just telling you, Who, I'm not buying it.
This is my aesthetic criteria for judging a movie: does it move me (to laugh, to cry, to think, to leer at my wife lasciviously)? and does it do so in a memorable way, despite the passage of time and with it, the hype, buzz or cultural relevance surrounding the film's initial release?
Some movies you forget before you've even left the theater, some fade within a few years, but some are as fresh and exciting as the day they were made, maybe even more so.
Thus, as you scroll through the Silent Oscars and on to the Katie Awards, you'll see Chuck Jones next to Ingmar Bergman, Shirley Temple next to Alfred Hitchcock, and yes, even a grim, grownup head-scratcher like Abel Gance sharing the stage with Harold Lloyd. If it's good, it's good, and if it's not—at least in my often-wrong opinion—you probably won't find it here."
You'd never know it, but I've been busy updating my stand-alone Silent Oscars page (here)—it now comes complete with nominees in each category as well as winners all the way through July 31, 1927, the last day of the "pre-Oscar" era.
I've also expanded the best picture category, starting with 1914, to name the best drama, comedy and foreign language film of each year. If nothing else, the exercise underscored for me just how much the Big Three of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd dominated comedy in the silent era—with three exceptions, they swap the award for best comedy back and forth from Chaplin's debut in 1914 to the beginning of the sound era.
As you look at my choices (you will look at my choices, right?), keep in mind the point of the Silent Oscars is not to prove that I'm right and you're wrong, or that I'm smarter than you are or have better taste than you do or have seen more obscure movies than you have, but to point you toward the kinds of movies and performances that may spark in you a love of silent movies equal to the one I've developed over the last three-plus years.
At the very least, if you skim the top off these awards, watching, say, just the best picture winners, you'd still wind up with a pretty good feel for the silent era. That's worth something, isn't it?
Now back to "writing the great American novel ..."
Vaguely in honor of the 43rd anniversary of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walking on the moon.
In lieu of actual content.
In how many Laurel and Hardy shorts did Jean Harlow act?
A. 2
B. 3
C. 6
D. 8
In lieu of actual content.
How many times was Carole Lombard married?
A. 1
B. 2
C. 3
D. 4
And no, they don't count "in your dreams," thus, no "E. 30 million."
Our Modern Maidens was the second leg of Joan Crawford's "flapper trilogy," sandwiched in between Our Dancing Daughters (1928) and Our Blushing Brides (1930). Like its predecessor, Our Modern Maidens centers on girl-gone-wild Joan Crawford, this time playing Billie Brown, a rich, spoiled, Jazz addict. She's engaged to marry Gil Jordan (Crawford's real-life fiance, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.), but keeps the relationship a secret until he can secure a diplomatic post worthy of her ambitions.
"It's got to be Paris!" she tells him. "The big brass band for me!"
Meanwhile, her school chum, Anita Page as the hopelessly naive Kentucky, dreams of romance—and more.
"Love! Beautiful love!" she writes in her diary. "Will it sweep me away in a cloud of glory or steal upon me ... gently?"
Unfortunately for her, the man she dreams of is none other than Billie's beau, Gil.
When Billie takes up with a powerful Washington insider—ostensibly to help Gil's career, but really to help herself—Gil consoles himself with Kentucky's virginity. When she gets pregnant, things get complicated.
Yes, this is definitely pre-Code. With its emphasis on fast cars, bathtub gin and Jazz music, the film serves as a time capsule, if not of the reality of the Jazz Age then of how America perceived it. Unfortunately, the stock market would crash just two months after the film's release. By the time its follow-up, Our Blushing Brides, hit theaters in 1930, the fun was over and Crawford's carefree flapper had become a careworn shopgirl.
While Our Dancing Daughters was Anita Page's most famous role, and best, this one is her most adorable, and the one I imagine that drove her fans—including fascist dictator Benito Mussolini—to write her mash notes by the bushel-basketful.
Equally fine is Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., in one of his best silent performances, worth seeing, if for nothing else, for his spot-on impressions of John Barrymore, John Gilbert and his own father, Douglas Fairbanks, Sr.
Ironically, the least convincing performance in Our Modern Maidens is Crawford's own. Personally, I find it disconcerting to see her so wide-eyed and overeager, much preferring the world-weary cynicism of her best-known work. Although already a big star—a well-publicized marriage to Fairbanks, Jr. during filming didn't hurt—she wouldn't really hit her stride as an actress for another couple of years with such films as Dance, Fools, Dance and Grand Hotel.
Still, Our Modern Maidens is a frothy bit of fun and highly recommended for fans of Jazz Age frivolity. Mix yourself a gin rickey and enjoy.
Postscript: Our Modern Maidens was Crawford's last silent film, and if you haven't seen a silent film from this period, you may be surprised to discover it featured a synchronized score, sound effects and even some incidental dialogue.
In lieu of actual content.
Which one of his own films was Harold Lloyd's professed favorite?
A. A Sailor-Made Man (1921)
B. Girl Shy (1924)
C. Grandma's Boy (1922)
D. The Kid Brother (1927)
Beginning at 3:45 a.m. (EDT) this evening/tomorrow morning, Turner Classic Movies is showing three of my favorite silent movies. From the TCM website:
3:45 AM The Thief Of Bagdad (1924)
An Arabian thief sets out on a magical adventure to win a beautiful princess.
Dir: Raoul Walsh Cast: Douglas Fairbanks, Snitz Edwards, Charles Belcher. BW-140 mins,
6:15 AM The Sheik (1921)
An Arabian sheik kidnaps a beautiful Englishwoman to win her heart.
Dir: George Melford Cast: Rudolph Valentino, Agnes Ayres, Ruth Miller. BW-86 mins
7:45 AM Our Modern Maidens (1929)
In this silent film, a flapper offers herself to a diplomat to advance her fiance's career.
Dir: Jack Conway Cast: Joan Crawford, Rod La Rocque, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. BW-76 mins
By the way, the description of Our Modern Maidens neglects to mention some stellar supporting work from Anita Page. Now you're sold for sure!
Set your recorders boys and girls. Or better yet, stay up very, very late.
In lieu of actual content.
In 1915, Hal Roach began producing short comedies with what famous friend?
A. Buster Keaton
B. Charles Chaplin
C. Harold Lloyd
D. Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle
The first person with the correct answer wins absolutely nothing other than the Monkey's everlasting respect. I will award extra credit (in the form of extra respect) if you show your work, i.e., "it can't be so-and-so because ..."
As always, click on the image to view full-size.
I've been so long in responding to the comment Who Am Us Anyway left the other day that I thought I'd just turn it into a short, blabbery post.
As viewers, we rely on hierarchies to govern our notion of television ambition: cable trumps network, drama is better than sitcom, adult is worthier than teen, realistic is more grownup than sci-fi, grim beats sunny, PBS documentary tops Bravo reality show, and 'as good as Dickens' is superior to anything resembling a soap opera.
Some movies you forget before you've even left the theater, some fade within a few years, but some are as fresh and exciting as the day they were made, maybe even more so.
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