Program Notes and Newsletter for April, 1957.
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First of all, were glad to report that we have moved, permanently (as far as any film
society is permanent!) to the Adelphi Hall. Here we are free of union intervention, and
we have considerably more elbow room that at any time in our history. We think that these
two advantages more than compensate for the fact that our new location is not quite as
central as some of our previous ones have been.
Thanks again, to Mr. Lon Hannagan, for his cooperation in furnishing the room at West 57th
Street, and thus enabling us to keep operating until we arranged this permanent set-up.
As before, one show will always be on the third Tuesday of each month. The second show
may vary, but will probably, as hitherto, be one week later. HOWEVER, OUR SCREENINGS
MAY NOT ALWAYS BE IN THE SAME ROOM. This month, certainly, they are not. Of course,
the room always be designated both in these notes, and on the notice-board in the
foyer of the Adelphi Hall, just inside the door.
John Adams of the Museum of Modern Art advises that there are still a few vacant seats
for the special Saturday morning series. This series is devoted to the running through
of everything in the Museum's vaults (other than films to be shown in the auditorium in
the regular way), and after a very auspicious first year of screenings, the second year
is now about to get under way. Among the items coming up are several Fairbanks, a group
of wartime documentaries, Betty Bronson's wonderful "Peter Pan" (worth the admission fee
in itself!), and a number of rare American silents - Colleen Moore, etc. Fee for the
whole series is $20 (about 75¢ a show!) and those interested should contact either John
Adams or Christopher Bishop at the Museum, 11 West 53rd Street.
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THREE PROGRAMS OF SILENT WESTERNS
This series is not in any way designed to outline the history of the western film; none
of the early films of Griffith and Ince are included, nor are such western milestones
as "The Covered Wagon", "The Iron Horse", "Wagon Tracks" and "Three Bad Men", which, we
hope, most of you are familiar with.
Rather it is a coverage of some of the top-liners among western stars, and a contrast of
the often striking differences in their methods of movie-making. Our coverage is not
completely comprehensive, since there are one or two unavoidable gaps. Art Accord material,
is rare even on 35mm., and apparently non-existent on 16mm. None of the great Buck Jones
westerns for Fox appear to have survived. Nor have any of the Tom Mix vehicles for Fox,
other than a couple ("Riders of the Purple Sage" & "Sky High") held by the Museum of
Modern Art. Rather than show Mix in an unrepresentative vehicle (i.e., a Selig one-reeler)
or a talkie, it seemed fairer not to show him at all. In the future, we hope to devote
at least one show to the sound western, and then both Mix and Jones can be included more
easily.
Each show has been arranged to illustrate as much contrast as possible, and happily it
has also worked out that each show runs exactly 12 reels - or three hours. There are of
course a number of interesting but not vital westerns that we had no room for in this
series - films with Yakima Canutt, Jack Perrino Bob Steele and other second-string western
stars. We'll fit the best of these into later shows.
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Note: The rather arbitrary statement is made on the last page that LAW AND
ORDER and TUMBLEWEEDS were the last great westerns. This is not so, and not the intended
statement, either. Space ran out before we could expand, discuss THE WAGONMASTER etc.!
APRIL 16
PROGRAM ONE: Adelphi Hall, 74 5th Avenue (off 14th Street), Room 10-C, at 7.30.
"THE RETURN OF DRAW EGAN" (A Triangle-Kay Bee Production) Rel: October 5 1916; 5 reels;
Directed by William S. Hart; Scenario by C. Gardner Sullivan;
photographed by Joseph August; Art Director: Robert Brunton.
Draw Egan (WILLIAM S. HART); Myrtle Buckton (Margery Wilson); Poppy (Louise Glaum);
Arizona Joe (Robert McKim); Nat Buckton (J.P. Lockney); and Robert Kortman.
Although an early, and "vintage", Hart, "The Return of Draw Egan" was already Hart's 33rd
film. It's a typical of the best of his early work - taut, incisively directed, good strong
meat with the inevitable Hart sentiment, but sentiment that was not as protracted
and unrestrained as it became in later pictures. Hart's love of the West, and his
insistence on an absolutely authentic representation of it, shows in every foot of this
film. The sense of dust and space, the rugged feeling of an austere, dangerous existence,
these are elements that Hart captured so magnificently, and which have vanished from the
facile and stereotyped western of today. Directorially, the film is very interesting too,
and shows Hart to be a man of few tricks but a thorough understanding of cinema sense: the
one time in the film that the camera trucks, it does so to tremendously telling effect.
The photography by Joe August, one of Fords favorite cameramen, is top-notch too. And as
an example of how Hart's influence, is still felt, compare this film with a Bill Elliott
vehicle of remarkable similarity only a year or two ago, "Topeka". "The Return of Draw
Egan" encompasses most of Hart's favorite scenes including an almost immediate desire
for reformation and soul-cleansing when he first glimpses the heroine. Since, in this case
it is lovely Margery Wilson - "Brown Eyes", of "Intolerance" - it is quite understandable!
This is a fine, gutsy western in the old tradition, one of the best of the Hart-Ince
group for Triangle. And we recommend no late arrivals, as it starts with a whale of a gunfight
and chase!
"THE INDIANS ARE COMING" (A Universal serial) 1930; Directed by Henry MacRae; starring
TIM McCOY, with Allene Ray, Francis Ford, Wilbur McCaugh, Bud
Osborne, Lafe McKee, Edmund Cobb.
Extract from episode four; all of the 12th (and final) episode.
Midway between Hart and Fred Thomson stood McCoy. McCoy, like Hart, had a genuine western background, and in his early westerns at least (particularly those for MGM, directed by
Van Dyke) strove to inject authentic western lore into his movies. But McCoy was more of
a showman than Hart, and tended to exploit his western background rather than use it.
He made some fine sound westerns - for Columbia, Monogram, sundry independents like PRC and
Victory - and some very bad ones too. He never quite achieved the stature of Hart or Mix,
and was a bit too slick in dress - and too hammy in his acting - to create a completely
convincing picture of a westerner. Nevertheless, he was one of the beat of the second
echelon of western stars. "THE INDIANS ARE COMING" was both Universal's last silent, and
first sound, serial, being released in two versions. The exploitation of sound was shown
in a plot which stressed a romantic interest more than usual, achieved end-of-episode climaxes
on purely dramatic, as well as melodramatic, notes. This is particularly evident in the
last chapter, which comes to its conclusion on a long dialogue episode. (Our print is the
silent, titled version). Incidentally, the quite elaborate battle scenes at the beginning
of episode 12 are actually stook from an earlier Universal film, "Vanishing Frontier" - what
in "The Indians Are Coming" is a rout of the Indians was, in that picture, the massacre
of General Custer at Little Big Horn!
"THUNDERING HOOFS" (F.B.O., 1924) 5 reels; Directed by Al Rogell; story by
Marion Jackson; photographed by Ross Fisher;
Art Director - Frank Ormston; starring FRED THOMSON and SILVER KING,
with Ann May, Charles Mailes, Willie Fung.
Fred Thomson was the very antithesis of Bill Hart, and made the type of westerns that old
Bill thoroughly detested. They were slick, streamlined and showy, specialised in action
for its own sake, and presented the customary glamorised picture of the West. Fred
Thomson's clothing too, had a dude-like appearance to it, especially his gun belt and
white boots, which look like the cheap merchandise sold to those horrible little
youngsters who line up outside Madison Square Garden every year for the rodeo. Thomson
himself however, was far from a phoney - he had a pleasant personality, and was a fine
athlete. Most of the tricky stunts in this film he performs without a double. Thomson
was understandably tremendously popular, and his religious background (he had trained
for the ministry) and thoroughly "clean" and moral code of living earned him the support
not only of youngsters, but also of pressure groups - at a time when Hollywood was having
its trouble with scandal. From these FBO films he went on to specials at Paramount
("Jesse James") and died at the end of the silent era from a sudden illness. (There is a
typical Hollywood mystery surrounding his death, his ghost having reportedly appeared
shortly afterwards).
FB0 (Film Booking Offices ), an outgrowth of Robertson-Cole, and forerunner of RKO Radio,
made some fine little westerns with Fred, and with Bob Steele, Tom Tyler and Tom Mix.
They were fast, slick, and loaded with real production values. "Thundering Hooves"[sic],
far from being Thomson's best, is still a grand western. The action is beautifully staged,
the sets are solid and convincing, the photography crystal-clear throughout, and often
beautifully composed. Our print too, is in a fine state of preservation- a perfect and
lovely toned original.
Even for a deliberately tongue-in-cheek Fairbanksian western, 'Thundering Hooves" has
some surprisingly hard to-take moments - in particular, the wonder horse, Silver King's,
burying of Fred Thomson's father is a trifle incredible, and his placing of a cross and
flowers on the grave strain belief even more! However, perhaps one shouldn't apply a Bill
Hart yardstick to a Fred Thomson vehicle! A runaway stagecoach episode is particularly
well done, and the climax in a Mexican bullring makes for a really rousing finish, and
some top-notch athletic stunt work.
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PROGRAM TWO Adelphi Hall, April 23rd., 7.30., in room 11-B.
"ANOTHER MAN'S BOOTS" (Aywon, 1922) 5 reels; directed by William J0 Craft, scenario
by Daniel F. Whitcomb, photographed by Edward To Estabrook.
Starring FRANCIS FORD with Elvira Weil, Frank Lanning, Robert Kortman.
Although an active director of, and actor in, westerns and serials through the 20's,
Francis Ford's most important contributions to westerns were much earlier, when, as
a director under Tom Ince, he made fine little subjects on the Battle of the Alamo
and kindred material. "Another Man's Boots" is shown not so much as an example of
Ford's acting, but rather as an example of the quite creditable little "B" westerns
made by the really cheap independent outfits. (Everything else in our series is on a
much higher budgetary [sic] plane). Of course, many of these "B" westerns were just plain
awful - a little horror with Al Hoxie called "The Ace of Clubs" is worse than anything
even PRC turned out in the sound era."Another Man's Boots" is neither top independent
standard, not, quite certainly, bottom. It is a good, reliable example of the
general standard of the better independents - and as such quite an interesting film.
It has the usual signs of budget-paring - no expensive running-inserts, no big cast.
The episode of the heroine's runaway horse is done without the elaborate camera angles
and careful inter-cutting that made the runway in "Thundering Hooves" so exciting. In
fact, it follows exactly the same pattern as the runaway in Edwin S. Porter's "Life of
An American Policeman", in which the two riders gallop into long-shot static camera
set-ups. But, it's an intelligently handled little film, neatly put together, and with
workmanlike plot which seems to be a plagiarism from Hart's "Square Deal Sanderson"
(which may explain why Aywon never copyrighted the film!) Francis Ford obviously
emulates Hart in his acting too - especially in his romantic closeups. Within its
limited budget, the film is very well made; the camerawork in clean and attractive,
and the fights are quite well staged. There are some interesting comedy bits too,
touching on America's prohibition era, and the fact that in the twenties it was
considered a sign of effeminacy for a man to wear a wrist-watch The print is another
fine toned original.
"FIGHT IT OUT" (Universal, 1920) 2 reels. Produced and directed by Albert Ruesell;
story by W.C. Tuttle, scenario by Ford Beebe. Starring HOOT GIBSON
with Dorothy Wood, Jim Corey, Charles Newton, Ben Corbett.
Photographed by Alf red Latham.
In his early two-reelers at Universal, Hoot Gibson established a pattern that he adhered
to throughout his career - a light-hearted, bantering style, villainy that never attained
unduly serious proportions, and a good deal of comedy. Yet it was a fairly realistic
style, and one that at no times approached the ludicrous self-satire of some of the Rogers
and Autry musical westerns. Gibson could ride well, and look after himself in a scrap,
but like the films of George O'Brien, his westerns were often quite light on action.
There's relatively little action in this one, and perhaps because of it, "Fight It Out"
emerges as a very refreshing and enjoyable off-beat little western. The print is a toned
original.
"RED RAIDERS" (First Nationale 1927) Directed by Al Rogell; supervised by Harry Joe Brown;
story by Marion Jackson; starring KEN MAYNARD with J.P. McGowan, Chief
Yowlachie, "Tarzan", Ben Corbett and Lafe McKee.
"Red Raiders" is another example of the really slick little westerns that were being
turned out in the 20's. Star considerations apart, "Red Raiders" is quite as big a
picture as "Stagecoach" and some other "supers". The action is staged on a massive
scale, and the whole picture is dedicated to the proposition that action matters far
more than plot. Indeed, there really is no plot in this one - merely a situation -
and no real villainy. The film has no white heavies, and the indians are, as always,
collective and largely unmotivated villains. However, it is worthy of note that they
are presented sympathetically and as human beings - a rare note in the twenties, mid-way
between Ince's "Heart of an Indian" and Delmer Daves' "Broken Arrow". The titles,
incidentally, are full of little historical footnotes a la Griffith, and the cast includes
one indian whom, a title inform us, is the sole survivor of the Little Big Horn days.
Ken Maynard was at his peak when "Red Raiders" was made, and an absolutely first-rate
action performer. His riding stunts, even when completely unnecessary, are really
something to see. Maynard was less effective in the talkies, due to poor acting ability,
a tendency to ad-lib much of his dialogue, and an unfortunate over-fondness for liquor.
After some good films in the very early thirties, he began to decline rapidly - although
still active, assisted by many doubles, until the mid-forties. Not a great western,
"Red Raiders" is a show-case for Maynard's amazing riding-skill, and for the application
of the "running insert" or riding closeup. Note how much more exciting the chase
scenes are, thanks to this dramatic device, than the chases - done with simple pans -
in our co-feature, "Another Man's Boots". Of course, "Red Raiders" wasn't proving this
for the first time - Griffith had done it years earlier in "The Birth of a Nation", and
even before that. Incidentally, the film is another collaboration between writer
Jackson and director Al Rogell, who also worked on "Thundering Hooves", Rogell gets a
surprising anoint of variety into his runaway stagecoach scenes - both films have such
a sequence, and each is quite different from the other.
"Red Raiders" - another good toned print - is a wonderfully exciting and spectaculars
western, one of the best we've run across in years.
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PROGRAM THREE: Adelphi Hall, April 30th., 7.30., in Room 10-D.
"THE PRAIRIE PIRATE" (P.D.C., 1925) 5 reels; Directed by Edmund Mortimer; produced by
Hunt Stromberg; from the story "The Yellow Seal" by W.C. Tuttle;
scenario by Robert Anthony Dillon; edited by Harry L. Decker.
Starring HARRY CAREY, with Fred Kohler, Lloyd Whitlock, Jean Dumas, Trilby Clark,
Robert Edeson.
One of the western stars most firmly in the Hart tradition was Harry Carey, although in
actual fact Carey's taciturn characterisation predates Hart in that he was active in
Biograph westerns for Griffith some four years before Hart made his first western. Perhaps
partly because his obviously leathery and non-youthful appearance prevented it, Carey avoided
the streamlined westerns that Maynard and Thomson made so popular. Hart's were always
westerns of the old school, sometimes a little slow on action, but always strong on plot.
There was a definite sign of Hart in those plots too: Carey's "Satan Town" was a very
creditable lesser "Hell's Hinges", and a respect for womanhood was a staple ingredient
with both Hart and Carey. This extends, in "The Prairie Pirate", to another Hart
plot motivation - the death of the hero's sister, and the tracking down of the man
responsible. There are signs that "The Prairie Pirate" was intended as more than just
another western; the mounting is elaborate, and the film gets off to a really punchy
opening. Somehow after that it descends into formula, and one gets the impression that the
film was running over budget, and had to be finished off in a hurry by cheapening certain
sequences. (The waterfall episode is not built up quite the way one expects). Nevertheless,
"The Prairie Pirate" is a well above average cater, and a fine print with amber and blue
tones throughout. Incidentally, Richard Talmadge can be seen doubling for Harry Carey
in the climactic reel. Fred Kohler was always one of the very beet western villains, and
is on top form in this one.
"TUMBLEWEEDS" (Hart-United Artiste, 1925; reissued in 1939 with a spoken foreword by
Hart); Directed by William S. Hart and King Baggott; Story by Hal G. Everts,
screenplay by G. Gardner Sullivan; photographed by Joseph August.
Don Carver (William So Hart); Molly Lassiter (Barbara Bedford), Kentucky Rose (Lucien
Littlefield), Noll Lassiter [sic] (J.Gordon Russell); Bill Freel (Richard Neill); Bart
Lassiter (Jack Murphy); Mrs Riley (Lillian Leighton); Old Woman (Gertrude Claire);
Old Man (George Marion); Major of Cavalry (Capt.T. E. Duncan); Kinman of the Box K (James
Gordon); Riley boy (Turner Savage); Hicks (Monte Collins); Hotel proprietor (Fred Gamble)
As a boxoffice attraction, Hart had been steadily waning in the mid-twenties. His refusal
to compromise with new western trends which called for slick, streamlined, "glamorised"
westerns was of course praiseworthy and just what one would expect of Hart. However,
in his determination, he seemed to bend over backwards to repeat the type of material which
was now considered out of date. His austerity of style was supplemented by a completely
unrestrained sentimentality, and, although very well along in years, he still persisted in
playing the allegedly youthful hero who ultimately won the girl. This reached its
ultimate in the unfortunate "Singer Jim McKee", a particularly wildy-plotted film, and
quite Hart's worst ever. In it, already a middle aged man, he undertakes to look after
the baby girl of an outlaw comrade. Years later, as her guardian, he is secretly in
love with her. Misfortune sends him to jail, and when, still more long years later he is
released, it is to find the girl waiting for him, ready and willing to accept his
proposal of marriage. Under the circumstances, it was not surprising that audiences were
veering more and more to the vigorous and less sentimental westerns of Tom Mix, films that
had a gusto and sense of lively fun rivalling those of Fairbanks. Hart and Zukor argued
bitterly over the sort of films that Hart was making, and, refusing to accept writers and
directors who would exercise control over him, Hart retired from the screen.
"TUMBLEWEEDS", almost two years later, was his comeback picture, It was also his most
expensive, with a budget of $312,000, and by far his biggest enterprise to date.
Those who expected Hart to have given in, to have made the sort of western that audiences
apparently wanted, were sadly mistaken. In "Tumbleweeds" Hart had reverted to type with
a vengeance, although apparently having taken some of the earlier criticisms a bit to heart,
had reduced the number of sentimental scenes involving himself. However, he had not
reduced the intensity of those that he retained -- and the climactic reunion scene is
unfettered Hart emotion at its peak!
In many ways, "Tumbleweeds" is one of the very best of the screen epics. It is staged on a
lavish scale, but again, Hart's refusal to introduce action for its own sake, his methodical
pacing, and his refusal to "streamline" development, made it seem a trifle slow and old-hat.
The giant landrush sequence notwithstanding, its epic qualities were appreciated, and noted,
to a far lesser degree than those of the generally inferior "The Covered Wagon". However, "Tumbleweeds" was a much more popular film than "Singer Jim McKee" had been. It opened to
excellent reviews, and top business at the Rivoli in New York. The record, however, was
not sustained. UA disliked the film, and sought to cut it to 5 reels. Hart prevented this.
UA hit back by deliberately mishandling the film, booking it into minor situations where its
potential could not be realised. Hart took the case to court, charging UA with failing to
exploit the picture, and won his case. (Hart took on many of the big boys, and never once
lost a case!) However, his victory here was only a technical one, for the damage had been
done. While Hart recouped his production costs, he estimated that he had lost half-a-million
dollars in unrealised profits. Discouraged, he retired from films permanently -- although
still remaining on the fringe. He made a guest appearance in Marion Davies' "Show People"
(1928), coached Johnny Mack Brown and Robert Taylor for their respective Billy the Kid films,
and sold his old story, "0'Malley of the Mounted", to Fox for a George O'Brien western.
However, he was so distressed at the routine results that he refused to sell any further
properties for remakes. Instead, he settled down on his Newhall Ranch and wrote. (Hart's
books are tough going, deliberately couched in western vernacular, and full of a rugged
but far from rhythmic poetry. But they're well worth the effort of sticking to, and his
autobiography, "My Life East and West", is especially readable, even though a trifle
romanticised and inaccurate).
Reverting to "Tumbleweeds", Hart placed in it many of his old Ince cronies - Richard Neill,
Lillian Leighton and others. The use of Lucien Littlefield as a comic partner was an odd
touch, and probably only an unconscious sign that Hart had noted the existence of this
cliche in the newer westerns. A stickler for authenticity to the last, Hart hated faking
of any kind, and thus there is fairly little stunt work in his landrush sequence. The
crashing of a wagon is rather crudely done at one point, and this is typical of Hart, and
a flaw that can be noted in "O'Malley of the Mounted" and other films. If Hart had to
resort to smoothly organised stunt work to get an action effect, he'd rather avoid it - or get
around it as well as possible by purely editing effects. This is especially notable in the
scene where Hart escapes from the stockade. A double performs the very tricky vault over the
wall. But rather than have the same double mount the horse, and then pick up Hart from a
different angle, Hart puts in a jump cut, and in the same scene, takes over from the double,
to do his own riding. (This may have been partially vanity too, for Hart disliked it to be
known that he used doubles, and in this way he was probably trying to create the impression
that he did the leap too). The landrush itself is a grand-scale affair, and contains at
least one shot of sheer poetry - Hart galloping along on his horse rides over the crest of
a hill, the camera angled in such a way as to give the impression of man and rider literally
flying. The land-rush, quite superior to the one in Wesley Ruggles' "Cimarron", is a mighty
sequence, and is introduced by some fine editing. Between the title "Ready for the signal for the maddest stampede in American history" and the actual start of the rush, there are 684
frames, split up into 25 separate shots, the shortest of which runs for only 5 frames. This
sequence is almost mathematically constructed, the shots of the tense homesteaders running
twice as long as those of the disinterested observers. At one point in "Tumbleweeds'', Hart
sadly removes his hat, looks at the oncoming trail herds, and says "Boys, it's the last of the
West". It was a prophetic statement. With the exception of Edward Cahn's magnificent and
under-rated "Law and Order" (1932), "Tumbleweeds" was the last of the movies' great westerns.
Notes & Enquires: Bill Everson, Manhattan Towers Hotel, 2166 Broadway, NYC 24
Committee: Dorothy Lovell, Charles Shibuk, Edward Gorey
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