Fifty Years of Film in 50 weeks, #1: The Wildcat, 1921

This post marks the first in a weekly blog series that I intend to keep up throughout the year: I'm going to watch one film per week from successive years, starting 100 years ago. Stay tuned here for upcoming posts as I make my way through the remainder of the last silent film decade, the 1920s, all the way through to 1970. The only hard selection criterion is that it must be a film I've not seen before. This way, I'll have added significantly to my appreciation for film history. I'll be posting on Twitter, @bbandmoviegal, with updates and requests for input to my next's weeks choice. Follow along using the hashtag #50YearsofFilmin50Weeks, and wish me luck!

The Wildcat/Die Bergkatze 1921*

Director: Ernst Lubitsch
Writer: Hanns Kräly and Ernst Lubitsch
Cinematographer: Theodor Sparkuhl
Starring: Pola Negri, Victor Janson, Paul Heidemann

Why I chose it
I had just watched a celebrated pre-code film by Lubitsch, Design for Living (1932), and I was curious to watch more of his work, especially that from his pre-Hollywood period in Germany. And The Wildcat (Die Bergkatze) was the only film he directed in 1921. Additionally, I'd never seen famed Polish silent film actress Pola Negri perform. Like Lubitsch, Negri had also come to Hollywood in the silent era, and I knew that she had had affairs with both Rudolph Valentino and Charlie Chaplin. I was eager to get a sense of who she was in front of the camera.

'No-spoiler' plot overview
In an unnamed historical kingdom, a group of bandits capture a key military officer who had been banished to a nearby outpost because of his womanizing ways. The Lieutenant becomes enamored of Rischka, the wild, but pure, young woman who entices victims for the group. Ultimately, she lets him escape, but his superiors back at Headquarters wish to punish the bandits; they fail in this mission, but Rischka infiltrates the quarters of the Kommandant. A series of romantic entanglements ensue, with the Lieutenant torn between the Kommandant's conventional daughter and his lust for Rischka. For herself, Rischka would have to give up her own young man for a life of nice dresses. What will she do?

Historical Context
Before Lubitsch came to Hollywood and directed such classics as Trouble in Paradise, Design for Living, Ninotchka, and The Shop Around the Corner, he had worked in German cinema for around 15 years. He was known for his sex comedies and historical epics, a few of which starred Negri. Both Lubitsch and Negri were lured to Hollywood just a year after this film was made.

My Random Observations

• The film was shot in Bavaria, and the outdoor scenes look authentic, with knee-deep snow and frosty breath visible from the actors who did not seem to be dressed warmly enough -- I shivered along with them!
• In a very physical performance, Pola Negri was indeed 'wild'-she gallivanted around the screen, threw snowballs, and even pitched furniture out a window. She seemed to relish looking decidedly less than glamorous; of course, later in the film, we see her looking more conventionally beautiful as she tries to conform to 'society' such as it is.
• Clearly, this film is a farce, with greatly stylized, surreal, internal sets, and costumes that make the men appear more like toy soldiers than real ones (a commentary on the German military). There is quite a wild dream sequence near the end.
• The visuals are striking, especially the choice of all kinds of oddly-shaped 'frame masks' that pop-up throughout. Lubitsch isn't content with basic squares, circles or irises. See screenshots below for a couple of examples. Apparently Lubitsch was poking fun at D.W. Griffith's filming techniques.
• I didn't love the film, but I was impressed by it for its audacity and enjoyed Negri's performance. At about 90 minutes run time it seemed about 30 minutes too long. 
• But isn't it amazing that we can watch a film made 100 years ago?

Screenshots

Rischka's first view of Lieutenant Alexis

Rischka (Pola Negri) makes a play for her prey

Lieutenant Alexis (Paul Heidemann) in an odd frame

The would-be lovers face off

Those expressions!

In her dream sequence, Rischka dances with the
Lieutenant while an orchestra of snowpeople (polar
bears?) plays for them.

Read More
The Wellington Film Society posted an informative essay here.
Fellow CMBA blogger and silent film aficionado Movies Silently reviewed the film here
TCM's write up is here, with more background on Negri and Lubitsch's collaborations.

Where to watch
It's currently on YouTube, here, and has been released on DVD.

Book Review: Herbert Marshall, A Biography, by Scott O'Brien

Hooray! One of my favorites finally has a full-length biography: British actor Herbert Marshall (1890-1966).  Author Scott O'Brien has once again done a fabulous job with a lesser-known old Hollywood star, and those (like me!) who want to know about all there is to know about the talented, enigmatic Mr. 'Bart' Marshall should pick up a copy.  The biography was published in February of this year, and is available on Amazon, and also through the publisher's website Bear Manor Media.

[Check out my post on my favorite Marshall film performances here]

Mr. O'Brien certainly did his research. He unearthed many interviews published during Marshall's lifetime, but further, was able to talk to many of his friends and colleagues, other authors, and friends of friends, to get further insights into the real Mr. Marshall.  It should be noted that Marshall had a prolific stage career as well. O'Brien's book offers a complete list of his stage as well as screen credits. 

The book uses a chronological approach, and blends detail about his stage and film engagements with events from his personal life.  O'Brien adopts a matter-of-fact tone, and steers clear of drawing psychological inferences or embellishment.  The biography may have benefited from a bit more probing into the drive and ambition that Marshall would have mustered to overcome his disability, as well as the psychological toll over the years. The sources being ultimately limited most likely do not allow for that. 

  

When I first became a Marshall devotee a few years ago, I watched nearly all his films that could be found, and read as much as I could about him. Sadly, there wasn't much.  But I felt that I was pretty thorough in my own personal research, if frustrated with the lack of detail and contradictory reports.  So, I will admit with a modicum of pride that I was familiar with much of the detail of Marshall's life in the book.  Yet, there was much that I didn't know.  Here are just a few facts that were of particular interest to me:

War Injury:  Most classic film fans know Marshall lost a leg in World War I, and worked in Hollywood using an often painful prosthesis.  Many accounts state that he lost his *right* leg.  Thankfully, O'Brien confirms it was actually the LEFT, which is what I suspected all along after, as I mentioned, having watched nearly all of his available films. I can't explain why this is important to me, as Marshall, while not exactly hiding his injury, preferred not to talk much about it.  It's perhaps the laziness of other writers or researchers to be careless with facts that annoyed me whenever I came across this little error.  O'Brien even specifically cites author Mark Vieira as the source of this information.

1930s Hollywood glamor: Marshall with Trouble in Paradise co-star and friend Kay Francis 1930s Hollywood glamor: Marshall with Trouble in Paradise co-star and friend Kay Francis

Longevity:  Marshall worked his entire life, making his last film just a few months before he died at age 75.  According to O'Brien, Marshall never considered retirement.  This I find particularly interesting. It is not entirely clear if there were financial reasons, or Marshall just loved to work.  

Complicated personal life:  Having married five times and a carried on a significant relationship with Gloria Swanson during his adult life, it's natural that his personal life must have been complicated. But what I didn't know was that, according to comments by those that knew him, he was more of a ladies' man than even his documented relationships may have had you believe. His immense personal charm was a valuable asset in this regard.  That said, by all accounts, he was a generous, kind, and self-effacing person.

His connections with other stars:  Marshall was close to many in his profession. He was a lifelong friend of fellow British character actor Eric Blore. Marshall and Blore starred together in the comedy Breakfast For Two (1937), in which Blore played Marshall's valet. Barbara Stanwyck was the leading lady. It's a lesser known but still fun screwball comedy. Ronald Colman was also a close friend.  Both stars died before Marshall, and he grieved when he lost his old friends.

Eric Blore (left) and Marshall relax while making Breakfast for Two (Picture featured in O'Brien's biography of Herbert Marshall

Love of Trouble in Paradise:  What is one of my favorite films was apparently a favorite of Marshall's as well.  This gem from 1932 is a classic Ernst Lubitsch pre-code sophisticated European comedy. 

His middle-class upbringing: To those of us on this side of the Atlantic, a British accent often connotes education and/or breeding.  Marshall had a fabulous voice and terrific use of the 'Queen's English'. He was admired his entire life for that, and for his brand of 'Britishness' and gentlemanly manner. He sometimes bristled at being labeled a 'gentleman' because in the UK he was decidedly middle-class, having been born in a family of working actors.

Marshall's life and career arc have the advantage of extending through the full first half of cinema history, on two continents. For that reason alone, the biography is a fascinating read - how one person navigated serious setbacks, cultural barriers, etc., to find consistent work in the industry until the mid-1960s. 

My Favorite Herbert Marshall Performances

Herbert Marshall is another one of those names that will elicit blanks stares from most everyone today.  When Turner Classic Movies (TCM) included him their lineup of featured stars in the 2014 edition of 'Summer Under the Stars," it was the first I'd heard of him, but after I saw a just few of those films, I became a big fan. Many will cite his fine, deep velvety baritone voice with the upper class British accent as his best asset, and perhaps rightly so.  But given the right vehicle and quality direction, he was a compelling, strong screen presence with ability to portray so much more than the staid, suave, and often cuckolded gentleman roles into which he was typecast.  I noted with distinct pleasure that TCM had scheduled a day of his rather obscure 1930s films tomorrow (Jan 19th), and I will be looking forward to watching the ones I haven't yet seen -- Make Way for A Lady, and Woman Against Woman on DVR, of course.   In honor of Mr. Marshall, and in celebration of his recent turn on TCM, I was inspired to share my favorite five performances of his here.

 Marshall was born in England in 1890 to a theatrical family, but came to the profession only after he gave up a career in accounting shortly after college.  He then enlisted to fight in WWI and was a casualty of fighting in France, where he lost a leg (some reports say it was his right, but observing his movements closely, it seems to me it may be his left; he never really discussed it publicly). He resumed his acting career after a long convalescence and learning to walk with a prosthetic.  He came to Hollywood in the early 1930s and rose to relative stardom with leading man roles as a free-lance actor who never signed a long term contract. Later in life he had numerous character roles and starred in many radio programs. He was known as a polite, charming, if not an attention-seeking personality. He had five marriages, and a somewhat scandalous romance with Gloria Swanson in the mid-1930s, which broke up his marriage to English actress Edna Best.  He had two daughters, the first his daughter with Best, who became actress Sarah Marshall.  He continued to work almost until the end of his life; he died at age 75 in 1966.

Here are five performances of his I've enjoyed the most, so far, in chronological order.

Jeanne Eagels as Leslie Crosbie
and Herbert Marshall as Geoff Hammond

1) The Letter (1929, D.: Jean de Limur)  This is not the much more famous 1940 William Wyler film of the same Somerset Maugham novel, which Mr. Marshall also starred alongside Bette Davis.  No, this early talkie was a pre-code version starring doomed actress Jeanne Eagels, and Marshall as the lover.  (In the 1940 version, the lover was not an actual role on screen).  This was a very early film role for Marshall, and he sinks his teeth into the few moments of screen time he has -- he comes across as a caustic, privileged young cad who is eager to move on from his dalliance with Mrs. Crosbie (Eagels). He does have a few moments of tenderness with his new lover, Lady Tsen Mei.  I wasn't as impressed with Eagels, and thought Reginald Owen was one-dimensional as the husband, but it's interesting to watch in comparison to the later version; the ending, in particular is distinctly different.

Kay Francis, Herbert Marshall, and Miriam Hopkins
in Trouble in Paradise

2)  Trouble in Paradise (1932, D.: Ernst Lubitsch)  This sophisticated comedy is considered one of the best pre-code films and one of Lubitsch's best, as well.  It's in my top five favorite films of all time; in fact, it may just be perfect.  From the romantic love triangle, to the clever visual and verbal innuendo, some sight gags, terrific pacing, and spot on performances that were ever-so-slightly tongue-in-cheek, you absolutely cannot go wrong with this film.  In the first example of Marshall's talent being brought to the fore by the skill of a good director, as jewel thief Gaston Monescu, he is perfectly understated, yet slyly comic here.  He's more than handsome and charming enough to cause two gorgeous women (Kay Francis & Miriam Hopkins) to fall for him, believably so.  His line readings are a delight.  One of my favorite exchanges: Lily:  "Who ARE you?"  Gaston: "You know the man who walked into the Bank of Constantinople, and walked out with the Bank of Constantinople?" Lily: "Monescu!"  Marshall worked for Lubitsch again in 1937's Angel, but that did not have nearly the same magic.

Marshall and Margaret Sullavan bond over coffee in The Good Fairy

3) The Good Fairy (1935, D.: William Wyler). Another comic role of a different kind came to Marshall in this William Wyler film, starring Margaret Sullavan in the "title" role.  It's a screwball gem, scripted by soon-to-be director Preston Sturges -- if that provides context about the quality of the writing -- from the play by Ferenc Molnar.  Marshall is a delight as a poor legal scholar who is too "honest" to be successful and becomes the unwitting beneficiary of Margaret Sullavan's 'good deed'.  He is definitely NOT suave, and has a nervous habit of running a comb once or twice through his beard.  He also has a hilarious solo scene in which he prattles excitedly about a new pencil sharpener (!).  His chemistry with Sullavan is very strong, and the two make a very lovely couple.  Frank Morgan and Reginald Owen are amusing as variations of their stock comic characters.

4.  The Little Foxes (1941, D.: William Wyler).  Another Wyler film -- he clearly was a terrific director for Marshall.  This one was his second film with Bette Davis, and he played victimized husband Horace Giddens to her poisonous Regina Giddens in this adaptation of the Lillian Hellman play about a dysfunctional Southern family.  The tone is mostly dark throughout, but it's a riveting production with good performances by the entire cast.  Marshall, by turns warm and sympathetic, then angry and righteous, plays the role of a dying man so convincingly that you feel his pain almost viscerally.  His subtlety as an actor is revealed when you know he wants to trust his family, but because he's smart, he cannot hide the growing realization of dishonest motives and crimes being perpetrated.  Interestingly, Davis and Marshall had a warm relationship off-screen.

Davis & Marshall in The Little Foxes

5.  High Wall (1947, D. Curtis Bernhardt).  In this noir, Robert Taylor is a veteran with PTSD, employed by Marshall, who finds himself accused of murder.  It's a psychological thriller as well, with Audrey Totter as the doctor who tries to help Taylor.  In this one, Marshall shows his ability to be slimy, two-faced, and scary.  It takes some questionable narrative turns, and I'm not enamored of Taylor's performance particularly, but it showcases the often underappreciated range of Marshall, who in my opinion, really steals the movie.  

Honorable Mention:  If You Could Only Cook, Foreign Correspondent, The Painted Veil, Mad About Music, Angel Face.

Don't miss him in the Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode "Little White Frock," or his appearance on the popular "What's My Line?" TV show in which, as the 'Mystery Guest, he gracefully responds to Dorothy Kilgallen's question as to whether he considers himself a 'character man,' with, "The day has come, yes."  Video link is below.

Finally, for a greater appreciation of his fight to overcome his war injury, read this article published in 2014 by SAG-AFTRA, image below: