Archive for Elissa Landi

The Monday Intertitle: I Have Synd

Posted in FILM, Theatre with tags , , , , , , on October 14, 2013 by dcairns

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One of the Pordenone Silent Film Fest’s highlights this year was a season of neglected Swedish silent cinema. Most serious silent film lovers will be familiar with Sjostrom and Stiller’s work, but the movies screened here shone light on less celebrated directors such as Gustaf Molander, whose EXTREMELY long career (1920-1967) took in collaborations with both Bergmans, Ingmar and Ingrid, which not many people can say.

SYND (1928) brings considerable star power to bear on a story adapted from Strindberg (whose play was called Crime and Crime — not one of your snappier titles, August). Lars Hanson, in fuil-on eccentric artist mode and apparently channeling William Powell or something, is a struggling playwright and the radiant Elissa Landi is his devoted wife. When Hanson sells a play he is immediately tempted by the lead actress (French import Gina Manés). thereby graphically illustrating the marital advice given me by Michael Fitzgerald in Telluride (“Getting married is easy, but staying married when you become successful…”)

Very slick filmmaking — Molander’s favourite move is to push in at the end of scenes, which maybe he does too often, but it never fails to add a frisson. During a police investigation scene, witnesses describe events which are seen in noirish chiaroscuro to match the melodramatic slant these excitable members of the public put on things, then the same events are shown again with normal lighting as the hero supplies his innocent explanation.

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Landi is too much of a doormat, albeit a fragrant one, and Manés, while exuding woman-of-the-world vampishness, isn’t appealing enough to explain why Hanson would ditch his loyal, gorgeous and dementedly submissive wife — and consider murdering his child. I choose to quote Landi’s intertitle from the film’s climax, when Hanson slinks home and tries to win her back. She’s starting to weaken, but can’t think of a way to turn the conversation around to “I forgive you for considering the murder of our adorable child.” This is what she comes up with ~

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“But Maurice, maybe you haven’t eaten?”

The Sunday Intertitle: That’s the ticket!

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , , , , , on November 27, 2011 by dcairns

Bwahahaha! Is that a title card or is that a title card?

The anonymous image derives from Raoul Walsh’s THE YELLOW TICKET, a Tsarist Russian romantic epic which derives a chunk of its plot and a smaller chunk of its actual footage from THE RED DANCE, an earlier Fox super-production also helmed by Walsh. While that movie had something of a plague-on-both-your-houses approach to both Tsarist and Red tendencies, the 1931 re-imagining takes place in the run-up to WWI and so avoids offering any opinion on Bolshevism — except in so far as it portrays the Tsar’s state as unutterably corrupt.

Elissa Landi plays a Jewish schoolteacher forced to apply for a prostitute’s license just so she can travel to visit her father, sick in prison. Arriving too late, she finds that the titular ticket becomes an inescapable brand of shame — at least until dashing newspaperman Laurence Olivier arrives on the scene.

A quasi-sadeian melodrama of unfortunate innocence  ensues, with Landi torn between Olivier and the oleaginous advances of Lionel Barrymore, a police official who intends to use every trick in his moustache-twirling book of forcible seduction to have her (and at times it does seem, doesn’t it, as if these villains are all following the same set of instructions…) Barrymore’s most endearing trait is his cabinet full of weapons, souvenirs from the many unsuccessful assassination attempts he’s survived. But he should never have shown Landi the cabinet…

Pre-code content — full-on tit-and-bum nudity in the woman’s prison, albeit in extreme longshot (recalling FOUR FRIGHTENED PEOPLE, I wonder if there was an unofficial ruling on how close a camera could get to the undraped female form). Incessant lechery (Sternberg scribe Jules Furthman had a hand in the script). Implied virginity imperilled (a medical report demonstrates that Landi “has never practiced her profession”).

Landi, best known for SIGN OF THE CROSS, is excellent, and seems to exert a calming effect on the two mighty hams sandwiching her on each side — Larry is wonderfully relaxed and charming, with a certain vulpine edge kept just beneath the surface, while Lionel cloaks his villainy in a weirdly dithering manner, like an evil Frank Morgan: “You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, and you don’t — ah — eh — uh…”

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