Review #1,361: 'Sherlock Jr.' (1924)

Whenever conversation happens to turn to the topic of silent comedy, it isn't long until Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd or Buster Keaton are mentioned. The likes of Fatty Arbuckle and Laurel and Hardy get honourable mentions, but Chaplin, Lloyd and Keaton form a Holy Trinity, completely untouchable when it comes to their bodies of work. Debate rages on about who was the best: Chaplin had the heart, Lloyd delivered the thrills, and Keaton was a pure innovator, and not only for the comedy genre, but for cinema as a whole. The Kid and Safety Last! are two of the finest examples, but has there ever been a more jaw-dropping silent comedy than Keaton's Sherlock Jr., both in terms of laughs and sheer invention? I think not, and even at just 45 minutes, Sherlock Jr. is still one of the funniest movies ever made, and manages to squeeze more jokes, stunts and ground-breaking cinematic trickery than most feature-length movies could ever dream of.

A hapless theatre projectionist and janitor (played by Keaton) dreams about being a great detective, studying the topic in between sweeping floors and finding customer's lost dollars. He also has a sweetheart (Kathryn McGuire), who he buys a $1 box of chocolates on his way to visit her, changing the price tag to $4 in a bid to impress her. But he has a rival in his quest for the girl's affections, a dodgy and dapper character known as 'the local sheik', played by Ward Crane. We meet the sheik as he is pawning a pocket watch for $4, which he stole from the girl's father, and purchases a $3 box of chocolates in a bid to win the girl's love and steal her from the poor projectionist. When the father (Buster's dad Joe Keaton) notices the watch is missing, the sheik slips the pawn ticket into the projectionist's pocket, framing him for the crime. After his detective skills backfire and he is banished from the girl's home, the dismayed projectionist returns to his work and falls asleep as the movie Hearts and Pearls plays.

The rest of the movie takes place within the projectionist's dream, where he fantasises about being the world's greatest detective, Sherlock Jr. At first it seems like a strange direction to take the story, but moving the action into the realm of fantasy allows Keaton to test the limits of what could be done with a camera back in 1924. He leaps into the screen as the audience watches on, using expert framing and cutting techniques to place the character into a number of perilous situations. One moment he is on a cliff's edge, the next he is surrounded by a pack of hungry lions. From then on, Sherlock Jr. simply doesn't let up, delivering a carousel of genuinely dangerous stunt work and hilarious sight gags. A personal favourite of mine is the game of billiards, during which Keaton pulls of a number of extraordinary tricks shots with the added excitement of knowing that one of the balls is actually a cleverly-disguised bomb. Unbelievably, critics panned it upon its release, labelling it as unfunny and strange. Nearly 100 years later, it is recognised as one of the most innovative films of its day, and rightly so.


Directed by: Buster Keaton
Starring: Buster Keaton, Kathryn McGuire, Ward Crane, Joe Keaton
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #553: 'The Thief of Bagdad' (1924)

Having made his name primarily in the comedy genre, silent superstar Douglas Fairbanks continued his transformation into swashbuckler with this lavish fantasy epic. Made on grand sets that rivalled the likes of Cabiria (1914), thanks to some spectacular set design by William Cameron Menzies, and featuring some ground-breaking visual effects, the real attraction of The Thief of Bagdad is Fairbanks himself, who compensates for some quite outlandish over-acting with an irresistibly athletic performance. The 1940 remake (for which Menzies was once of a few uncredited directors) cast Sabu as the titular thief, but relegated him to the sidekick of John Justin's Prince Ahmad. Perhaps the makers felt that making a petty thief the hero was a little more than the audience could accept, and so this works as a testament to the effortless likeability of Fairbanks.

The Thief (Fairbanks) roams Bagdad, taking what he pleases and going wherever his legs will take him. Unmoved by religion, he seeks any opportunity to steal, telling a holy man "What I want, I take!". Seeking the ultimate treasure, he and his associate (Snitz Edwards) break into the palace of the Caliph (Brandon Hurst), where he discovers the Caliph's beautiful daughter (Julanne Johnston) laying asleep. Yet when the guards are alerted, the Thief flees. With the Princess' birthday the next day, Bagdad awaits the mighty rulers and Prince's of other kingdom who will pay tribute to the Princess in the hope of winning her heart. The Thief plans on stealing her, yet when a twist of fate causes the Princess to love him back, he must embark on a mighty quest to bring her the rarest gift he can find, in the hope of winning the favour of her father.

With a hefty running time of 150 minutes, The Thief of Bagdad naturally suffers from some lengthy un-eventful periods, occasionally shifting its focus to the plans of the Mongol Prince (Sojin) to win the Princess by force and take over the city of Bagdad. But this is fantasy in its purest form, with magic ropes and carpets, various giant monsters, and a winged horse, all giving the opportunity for some dazzling and charming special effects that prove to be quite spectacular retrospectively. The film is an absolute visual delight, with the grand sets simply blowing my mind in an age of lazy CGI work. But like I said before, the true star is Fairbanks, failing to convince as an Arab but giving a performance of wonderful athleticism that pose no question as to why he was an absolute superstar in his day. The 1940 remake is certainly better remembered, especially for its glorious Technicolour cinematography, but Raoul Walsh's 1924 effort is simply beautiful, with some genuinely thrilling moments during it's climatic final third.


Directed by: Raoul Walsh
Starring: Douglas Fairbanks, Julanne Johnston, Brandon Hurst, Sôjin Kamiyama
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #521: 'Waxworks' (1924)

When a young writer (William Dieterle) sees an advert in the paper requesting somebody with a big imagination, he takes the job and finds himself in a wax museum, where the owner asks him to write stories about his three finest works. His models are of Harun al-Rashid, Ivan the Terrible, and Spring-Heeled Jack, and when Harun's arm accidentally drops off, the writer's imagination starts to wander, and he sets about telling his fantastical tales.

Although in essence a horror film, Waxworks is more of an anthology film, juggling genres and tones to fit the mood of the individual piece. While this can be an inventive and successful approach (Creepshow (1982), for example), it can also damage a film's flow if not carefully constructed, risking leaving one story in another's shadow if they also vary in quality. Waxworks suffers for this unfortunately, mainly due to the unevenness in the stories' running times, and the sudden shifts in tone. The stories increase in quality as the film goes on, which is a good thing, but in the case of Waxworks, it leaves a disappointing taste in the mouth given the running time of the final piece is within the blink of an eye.

The first story has German silent screen legend Emil Jannings playing Harun al-Rashid, who is informed by his advisor that the most beautiful woman he has ever seen (played by Olga Belajeff) is married to a baker in the city. Rashid goes to win the love of the beauty, but she has set her husband (Dieterle) off to prove himself as a man by stealing the wishing ring from Rashid. Taking a fantasy approach, this story also has a sprinkling of comedy. Jannings if a colossal beast, as you would expect, and brings his dramatic chops to a rarely-seen comedic role. Yet this section drags, and the beautiful expressionist sets don't manage to save it from becoming a silly pantomime.

Another German silent icon, Conrad Veidt, plays Ivan the Terrible in the second section, which focuses on Ivan's insane obsession with his potion maker, who can seemingly strike death upon anyone he chooses. It has all the wide-eye operatic tones of Sergei Eisenstein's own Ivan adaptations, with Veidt proving the perfect candidate for Ivan's descent into complete madness. And the final story sees the writer fall asleep at his desk and begin a creepy dream about being stalked by a killer (Werner Krauss) in the streets. It is the final story that remains the most impressive, but sadly only lasts about four minutes.

Weimar Germany brought some of the greatest screen icons and most innovative directors in cinema history to the fore during the free-spirited expressionist movement, and although by 1924 the movement was fading away, Waxworks has some fine examples. The winding, claustrophobic staircases of the city streets in the first story evoke the most popular film of the movement, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), and in a way, Waxworks almost feels like a homage to Robert Wiene's masterpiece, employing Krauss (who played the titular character) and Veidt who both starred. There is certainly a lot to admire here from a visual standpoint, but even three silent screen giants can't save it from being a slight disappointment, given the promise shown in the final story.


Directed by: Leo Birinsky, Paul Leni
Starring: Emil Jannings, Conrad Veidt, Werner Krauss, William Dieterle, Olga Belajeff
Country: Germany

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #449: 'The Navigator' (1924)

While his set-pieces were certainly on a lower scale than Harold Lloyd, and his films were less politically and socially aware than Charles Chaplin, the great Buster Keaton was certainly a resourceful man, and wholly dedicated to the art of prop comedy. In 1924, he would buy his biggest prop in the USAT Buford, a liner that served in World War I and was destined for the scrap heap until Keaton stepped in. Keaton and co-director Donald Crisp sat down to write a new comedy based around their new toy, a giant ship that was ripe with endless comedic possibilities, and one which Keaton had free reign. And out of this came The Navigator, one of Buster Keaton's most loved comedies.

Bored rich-kid Rollo Treadway (Keaton) decides one day to get married, and travels across the street to propose to neighbour Betsy (Kathryn McGuire). Confident that she will say yes, he asks his servant to book honeymoon tickets for Honolulu that very night, but naturally, she turns him down. Rollo decides to go anyway, and a mistake leads to him getting on the wrong ship, the SS Navigator, which has just be sold to an enemy by Betsy's father in an unknown war. Her father is seized while checking the ship by some local gangsters, and Betsy, hearing her father's shouts, wanders onto the ship before it is cut loose. The ship drifts out into the Pacific Ocean, with Rollo and Betsy all alone to face the perils of savage tribes, dodgy equipment, and having to make breakfast all by themselves.

While I do prefer the films of Chaplin, Keaton's reputation as the greatest physical comedian of all time is well justified, with his doe-eyed, helpless expression providing some great subtle comedy between the prat-falls (his nickname was the Great Stone Face). One of the opening scenes aboard the ship has the two characters sensing each other's presence and running manically around the ship, missing each other by inches. It's a remarkably well-timed moment, and McGuire (who co-starred in other Keaton films) proves game and much more than the archetypal love interest. Although I much preferred the likes of Sherlock, Jr. (1924), The General (1926) and Steamboat Bill, Jr (1928), there are some inspired moments here involving Rollo's helpless attempts to open a can of food, a rickety deck-chair, and an underwater sword-fight with a swordfish. If the ending is tinged with a bit of racism (they're black and on an island, of course they're cannibals!), it seems to be more of a case of innocent ignorance, and The Navigator is a 60-minute hoot, though some plot-strands are left somewhat neglected and open-ended.


Directed by: Donald Crisp, Buster Keaton
Starring: Buster Keaton, Kathryn McGuire, Frederick Vroom
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #410: 'Michael' (1924)

Famous painter Claude Zoret (Benjamin Christensen) is in love with friend, muse, and model Michael (Walter Slezak). They live comfortably and happily in their mansion, which is littered with Zoret's pieces with Michael as their inspiration. When the bankrupt Countess Lucia Zamikoff (Nora Gregor) comes to visit to ask Zoret to paint her, Zoret accepts but struggles to put any life into his painting. He can't depict her eyes, but Michael steps in and completes the painting. Sensing his infatuation with her, the Countess seduces Michael, and Zoret witnesses his relationship become more and more distant. Michael steals and sells Zoret's sketches and paintings in order to satisfy the Countess' spending habits, and Zoret eventually falls ill.

Although it's hardly tackled explicitly, and more suggested in looks, exchanges, and title-cards than sexual imagery, Michael's tackling of homosexuality was quite revolutionary in its day. Naturally, it failed financially and critically (although when Dreyer made The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) and became auteur, it has since been re-visited and praised), but it should be a film that any cinephile should see, especially those with an interest in the origins of Queer Cinema and the depiction of homosexuality in film. Benjamin Christensen, perhaps best known as director of the silent docu-horror masterpiece Haxan (1922), is masterful as Zoret, his face darkened with sadness, subtle jealousy, and tragic sentiment. Slazek and Gregor fair less well, and suffer in comparison to Christensen's depiction.

Although the climax is predictable, it has a feeling of inevitably which makes it fittingly moving and quite beautiful, similar in many ways to the ending of Dreyer's Ordet (1955). But the film is surprisingly rich and luscious, with Dreyer's usual blank canvas and bleak settings replaced by detailed sets, all captured by cinematographer's Rudolph Mate and Karl Freund (who appears here as art dealer Le Blanc, and would go on to work on some Universal's finest horror output in the 1930's). A wonderful, 'minor' work in Dreyer's wealthy filmography.


Directed by: Carl Theodor Dreyer
Starring: Benjamin Christensen, Walter Slezak, Nora Gregor
Country: Germany

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #339: 'The Great White Silence' (1924)

An extraordinary account of the doomed expedition on the Terra Nova by Captain Robert Falcon Scott to the south pole between 1910 and 1913, by cinematographer, Herbert Ponting. This document follows the ship from New Zealand as it lands on the antarctic coastline where the team set up a camp. Here, Ponting films both the people and their actions, along with the wildlife that inhabits the area.

Much of the middle section of the film focuses on the wildlife, documenting the habits of seals, penguins and gulls. Throughout these animal parts, the "narrator" (obviously being a silent film , these narrations are provided within inter titles) almost seems to place human characteristics to them (such as stating that a male penguin searches for his "bride"), his observations at times entertaining and occasionally amusing. Unfortunately, some of the practices for capturing footage seems very archaic to modern viewers, as Ponting often interrupts nature to capture certain footage; a practice that I'm sure David Attenborough would be astounded with.

Obviously, Ponting did not follow the five men who set off from camp to reach the south pole. As history is now aware, those men never returned alive. With some incredibly stunning images of polar caps, icebergs etc, the film is a beauty to behold. Unfortunately, the film was not really successful at the time, and Ponting died in poverty 10 years after its release. However, the British Film Institute has released the film in a beautiful digital transfer that means that this film of historical importance may live on for future generations to enjoy.


Directed by: Herbert G. Ponting
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy