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Brooksie's Silent Film Collection

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A 1916 Film Diary: The Foundling


Mary Pickford’s The Foundling was Margaret’s selection for the evening of Saturday 16th September, after she and her fiancee had spent a day at the Glebe Carnival at Wentworth Park. This event featured everything from a military procession and welcome home to returned servicemen, to a fancy dress parade. Margaret described it as ‘a great success’. At the following year’s Carnival, her little sister Grace would win First Prize for Best Original Costume for her nurse’s costume.

The story of The Foundling, described by the Sunday Times as one “of a beautiful sentiments and tender appeal to the finer senses,” was a return to a more archetypal role for the star after the atypical Madame Butterfly.

The latter film had been one of Pickford’s many attempts to broaden her appeal past the ‘Little Mary’ persona, and like the others, it would prove short-lived. "The public ‘typed’ Mary against her wishes," explained Adolph Zukor, the mogul who had staked the success of his Famous Players company on Pickford’s fame. "She was wanted complete with curls, puppies, and a jam-smeared face and brave smile while going through some of the worst adversity ever heaped upon a young girl."

In The Foundling, Pickford’s favourite collaborator, screenwriter Francis Marion, pelted Little Mary with every possible peril in order to show off the pluck and humour with which the actress’ persona was now inextricably linked.

Poor Molly O is abandoned by her father after her mother dies in childbirth, undergoing deprivation after deprivation at a foundling’s home. When her father returns to adopt her, another child is substituted, and she instead goes to live with the cruel mistress of a boarding house, who keeps her in virtual slavery. Naturally, she is eventually rescued and all ends well. ‘[It’s] the sort of picture that at one moment gives rise to a delighted chuckle, and the next raises a lump, in your throat,’ said Sydney’s Arrow newspaper, a description that could easily be used for many of Pickford’s productions in coming years.


The Foundling is famous within filmic circles for a number of reasons that have little to do with his content. Firstly, it was Pickford’s first self-produced film - remarkable, given that she was only 23 at the time, but no less remarkable than the fact that she was already earning $104,000 per year. With various bonuses for box office performance factored in, the figure inflated further to a staggering $500,000. Pickford would soon find even this sum inadequate, departing Famous Players-Lasky to help found United Artists in 1919.

Secondly, the picture had already been completed when a fire devastated the Famous Players lot in New York. While a number of negatives for recently completed films survived, having been stored in a specially constructed fireproof safe, The Foundling was destroyed. Partly re-cast and entirely remade under a new director, it made its debut in January 1916.

Pickford attributed the film’s soft performance to this change in personnel and its troubled production history, but reviews of the time suggest that both critics and audiences considered the story a little too similar to her other hits to be entirely satisfying.


Already one of Margaret’s favourites, Mary Pickford's fame was reaching its zenith in Australia when The Foundling was released. In America, she was known as ‘America’s Sweetheart’, but in other international markets, including Australia, her sobriquet was ‘The World’s Sweetheart’. After opening at the Strand Theatre, The Foundling proved so popular that the Waddington’s chain, which had exclusive rights to Pickford’s pictures in Sydney, decided to show it simultaneously at all of its major city theatres.

The film is extant in a number of American archives.

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A 1916 Film Diary: Fool’s Revenge


By now, the idea of the double-feature was well established in Sydney, particularly in the case of second-run pictures. This would have been attractive to Margaret, who had over a month’s picture-going to catch up on. On 14 September, she went to the Majestic Theatre at enjoyed The Fool’s Revenge, starring Maude Gilbert and W. H. Tooker, with The Secret Sin, starring Sessue Hayakawa and Blanche Sweet, as the supporting feature.

The Fool’s Revenge was based on a play by Tom Taylor, which itself was a loose adaptation of Victor Hugo’s play Le Roi’s Amuse and the opera it had inspired, Verdi’s Rigoletto. The story had already provided fodder for another film version, directed by D.W. Griffith, in 1909. The Fool of the title, a court jester in the original, was translated to a circus clown in this modernised adaptation.

Reviews paint a detailed picture of a lurid melodrama, reminiscent of the gothic horror stories that Lon Chaney later made famous, which included Victor Hugo’s own The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The clown (W. H. Tooker) murders the vampish wife he suspects of infidelity (Marie Gilbert) by throwing her off a cliff. 

The clown changes his identity to avoid capture. After making a fortune in the oil industry, he encounters the lecher who cuckolded him, and disguises his identity a third time, in order to pose as the man’s butler and set his sights on his beautiful wife. A convoluted and tragic denouement instead sees him inadvertently assisting in the scoundrel’s seduction of the Fool’s own daughter (Ruth Findlay).


Motion Picture News' Peter Milne praised the story's “unrelenting force and unsparing frankness,” while admitting that these very traits would turn off some viewers, and noting that some early audiences had found its dramatic convolutions difficult to take seriously. Moving Picture World's Judson Hanaford also held reservations, praising the directing and most of the acting, but wondering exactly what the film's series of increasingly tragic events was supposed to mean, if anything. “In trying to crowd five reels with climaxes he [director Will S. Davis] has lost his way,” he concluded. “The story is clearly continuous, but in his accenting of this and that he has obscured its inner significance.”


The Secret Sin tells the story of two young women, Edith and Grace both of whom were played by Blanche Sweet. Stricken by poverty and their father absent, the sisters are forced to do piecework to keep their family fed. A combination of pure chance and the strain of her work leads Grace into a sinister underworld: 

Grace is bribed by a drug friend to go around the comer into Chinatown and get him some opium. Grace goes, and in a joke, gets her first taste of the drug. Afterwards, when she and her sister secure  employment in a blouse factory, and she is suffering from overwork, Grace takes money from the house funds and gets opium to relieve the pain. She is not suspected, and later, when an ignorant doctor gives her morphine as a medicine, she becomes a secret drug fiend.

Grace goes to great lengths to conceal her growing problems from her sister and family, and the plot thickens when the two sisters fall in love with the same man, and Grace conspires to make it appear that it is her sister Edith suffering from addiction. There is an exciting climax in Chinatown as Grace is rescued from the clutches of a Chinese drug gang.


Though the leading man was the handsome Thomas Meighan, it was the villainous Chinese drug pusher Lin Foo, played once more by Sessue Hayakawa, who was given more prominence in advertisements, following the success of The Cheat. Moving Picture World gave the film a cautious thumbs up, praising the verisimilitude of its scenes of poverty and director Frank Reicher for adding excitement and thrills to what might otherwise have been a purely grim story.

While Fool’s Revenge is considered lost, The Secret Sin is extant in the collection of the US Library of Congress.

The Majestic Theatre, at the corner of Liverpool Street and Nithsdale Street, Hyde Park, had opened on 30 April 1915, making it the newest cinema in the Waddington’s chain, which also operated the nearby Strand and Globe Theatres.

Its proprietors seemed to have young women exactly like Margaret in mind. “The Globe and Majestic Theatres are so conveniently situated for ladies who like a quiet and enjoyable rest after a strenuous day’s shopping that they have become a by-word amongst Sydney’s shoppers,” said advertisements, and indeed, the large Mark Foys department store was only a few doors away. “All dress circle patrons are served with a refreshing cup of tea and biscuits or a Summer drink between 11am and 6pm.” 

The Hyde Park Margaret would have seen was very different from the one we know today - no St James or Museum Station, small saplings in place of the corridors of enormous trees, and of course, no soaring memorial to the victims of World War I. 

Little trace of this area remains intact aside from the Mark Foys building itself, which has been repurposed as law courts.

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A 1916 Film Diary: The Golden Chance


The Golden Chance, showing at the Globe Theatre on George Street, was Margaret’s choice of entertainment for the evening of 6 September. After two months of illness and uncertainty, she would resume her busy cinema-going schedule during September.

The ‘golden chance’ of the title referred to the prospects of a beautiful but downtrodden housewife (Cleo Ridgeley) who suddenly finds herself part of society life when she is brought in to substitute for an upper class woman at a dinner party. A rich bachelor (Wallace Reid) instantly falls in love with her, giving her a new opportunity not only for true love but for bettering herself. The chemistry between the two romantic leads was such that they were starred together in several more films.

Paramount Pictures, distributors for the Famous Players-Lasky production company, had by now firmly established itself in the Australian exhibition scene, and advertisements made liberal use of the excellent reviews it had received in America. According to Motion Picture News' Peter Milne:

Superlatives are dangerous, particularly the overworked word 'best,' and when employed to describe a Lasky picture the danger is even greater, for if we are inclined to say that such-and-such a picture is the best that Lasky has produced, next week there comes another even better — and better than best is— well, it's The Golden Chance. It is difficult to draw a definite line between the merits of the story and the direction… The story carries with it a load of suspense that keeps the interest at high pitch every minute of the time.”

Moving Picture World's Stephen Bush was similarly admiring: 

"The gloss on all the superlatives has been worn off by the ruthless hand of the press agenda and superlatives after all are the only terms in which justice can be done to this picture … it is rich in dramatic material and replete with genuine pathos … it is bound to add to the prestige of the motion picture everywhere."

Many reviews commented on how ideally the story was suited to the motion picture form, and the construction of its screenplay by Jeanie Macpherson was used as a case study in at least one screenwriting guide in later years. Director Cecil B. DeMille was himself so taken with the theme that he remade the story as Forbidden Fruit in 1921.

During 1915, the year of The Golden Chance's production, DeMille kept up an extraordinary pace. Not only did he produce thirteen features during the year, but made The Golden Chance back-to-back with The Cheat, filming the latter during the day and the former in the evening.

The critics may have hit the nail on the head when they judged that over-lavish praise was beginning to dull the public’s ability to tell genuine quality from ballyhoo. Margaret must have felt the same way, as she decided The Golden Chain was ‘not up to expectations’.


Wallace Reid was one of the premier heart-throbs of the era, his  persona clean-cut, cheerful and athletic. He had worked with a number of the pioneer companies before being one of the many popular actors to be signed by the burgeoning Paramount/Famous Players-Lasky. Eager to consolidate their growing stature in the industry, the company kept Reid, one of their major assets, very busy over the next few years.

While filming The Valley of the Giants (1919) in rural Oregon, Reid was injured in a train accident, and doctors prescribed morphine for chronic pain. As discussed earlier, morphine addiction was an emerging but still poorly understood phenomenon, and the methods to treat it could sometimes be little better than the addiction itself. Famous Players-Lasky kept Reid working as long as possible, but the world was shocked when the former matinee idol died in a rehabilitation facility in early 1923, at the age of 31.

Though Reid had been no hedonist, the stigma of addiction was such that his name was inevitably caught up with those of the victims of a number of other recent Hollywood scandals, including the mysterious death of rising star Virginia Rappé and the unsolved murder of director William Desmond Taylor, which exposed a seedy underbelly of drugs, drink and infidelity in the movie capital. 

Sadly, the talented Reid became irrevocably associated not with the outdoor life or a love of motor cars, as he had during his lifetime, but with the scourge of celebrity drug addiction.

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CINECON 50: Special Programs



John once again earned his title as ‘the Kevin Brownlow of film locations’ in this program, which focused on locations at Santa Monica Pier, Venice Beach, the Pacific Palisades, Chinatown and our favourite Cahuenga Boulevard. Not being as blazingly hot as last year, a large and enthusiastic group accompanied John on his tour of the area around Cahuenga, including descendants of both Harold Lloyd and Chaplin’s cinematographer, Rolly Totheroth. We no doubt baffled onlookers as to our fascination for apparently nondescript alleyways which, as we now know, are parts of cinema history.

The picture above shows John standing on the exact corner that Mary Pickford is seen peeking around in the wartime charity short, 100% American (1918).

If you haven’t done so already, please visit John’s fascinating website for more information on the silent-era shooting locations in Hollywood and elsewhere that he has tracked down.



Silent serials remain a blank spot for many film fans, but Ed Hulse, author of the recently released Distressed Damsels and Masked Marauders, aimed to change that, dispelling a number of myths about their production and marketing, and discussing the career of serial queen Ruth Roland. A Pathé promotional reel encouraging showmen to purchase their latest serial, Hands Up!, was of particular interest, while Episode One of The Timber Queen left us on a cliffhanger, as Ruth Roland careened through timber country on the back of a runaway train. It’s a fascinating new area for exploration, and I hope to see some more of these serials in future years.

Earlier in the weekend, were also treated to THE ADVENTURES OF TARZAN, Chapter 3 - ‘The Flames of Hate’ Here, we meet a stockier and darker Tarzan (Elmo Lincoln) than the ones we’re used to. Was it an ‘electrifying chapter’, as the poster boasts? Perhaps not, but the average cinemagoer would have got a real kick out of observing the menagerie of exotic animals and the concluding sequence of a jungle fire, which is tinted a vivid and effective red.

That wraps it up for this year’s Cinecon coverage. Thanks and congratulations go to Bob Birchard, Stan Taffel and the entire Cinecon team for making it all happen. I can’t wait until next year!


CINECON 50: The Silents

PATHS TO PARADISE (1925) - Our first delight of the festival came early. Betty Compson plays a canny conwoman who finds herself outwitted by the even cannier Raymond Griffith. The two are soon in competition to con a wealthy family out of a fabled diamond necklace, resulting in some very funny gags as they attend a fancy party, attempting to distract the family and each other, in order to make the theft. Eventually joining forces, they make a break for the Mexican border, and thus follows a prolonged, hilarious chase through all of Southern California! The story wraps up nicely enough without the missing final reel, although I understand that it has deprived us of a terrific final gag. Keep searching your attics, everyone!

$20 A WEEK (1924) - A wealthy industrialist (George Arliss) challenges his spendthrift son (a young and under-used Ronald Colman) to a bet in which they both agree to live on $20 a week. The comic possibilities of this scenario are abandoned in favour of complicated plot which has an incognito Arliss investigating criminal misbehaviour in the rival Reeves steel company, and a dullish subplot about Reeves’ flighty socialite daughter (Edith Roberts) adopting a child. Performances are good and the film itself is OK, but you get the impression it all worked better onstage.


ALMOST A LADY (1926) - Marie Prevost stars in this fun and frothy comedy as a fashion model who is talked into posing as a famous lady novellist as a favour to her boss’s ditzy nouveau riche wife (Trixie Friganza), who hopes to impress a visiting Duke. Little does she know that the handsome stranger (Harrison Ford) is no Duke but a fellow victim of mistaken identity. Friganza is always fun, Prevost looks beautiful in her many close-ups, and the setting allows for a number of gorgeous Art Deco costumes - one of which Prevost ends up losing piece by piece, in the film’s funniest sequence.

BEHIND THE SCENES (1914) - Pickford is a rising stage actress who marries a homebody (James Kirkwood). Just as she receives her big break, he demands that she give up her career in favour of life on the farm. She must decide between her husband and the career that she loves, and in choosing one, she comes to learn the value of the other. Arguably, there is a feminist message struggling to get out, but only arguably. The story is clear, the characterisations good, and the stage scenes interestingly rendered - and yet the film still lacked a certain something.

A few people I spoke to felt that the projection speed was a mite slow, an adjustment that might have made this as enjoyable as it felt it should have been.

COURT-MARTIAL (1928) - Betty Compson is Belle Starr, a Southern belle whose hatred of the North has transformed her into the feared leader of the meanest bunch of bandits in the land. Northerner Jack Holt manages to infiltrate her gang in an attempt to end her thieving ways, but finds her stealing his heart instead. With a plot like that, this should have been far more exciting than it is, and we know Compson is capable of much more than sitting around looking noble and troubled. Still, as a rare document of Columbia’s transition from the corned-beef-and-cabbage days to major player it remains of interest, and there are moments of inspiration in the cinematography.

The intertitles were a peculiar mishmash of English and Czech, but enough could be understood to easily follow the story.

IF I WERE KING (1920) - This intertitle-heavy historical drama had its moments, but might have been a reel or two shorter. William Farnum plays Francois Villon, a romantic Robin Hood figure who is championing a rebellion against King Louis XI (Fritz Leiber, in an outrageously over-the-top performance). It is not until the fourth reel that the central conceit is revealed when, in an elaborate ruse, the King tricks Francois into spending a week believing he has become the leader of France. As a rare surviving feature by director J. Gordon Edwards, it does give us some impression of what his numerous lost Theda Bara historical epics might have been like.


EAST IS WEST (1922) - Constance Talmadge plays Ming Toy, the daughter of a large Chinese family, who is constantly haunted by the prospect of being sold into marriage. Instead, she is adopted by kindly young missionary Billy Benson (Edward Burns) and brought to San Francisco. While she becomes fascinated by the local taste for jazz and chewing gum, Benson becomes fascinated by her. It’s not until she’s pursued for marriage by the sleazy Charlie Yong (Walter Oland) that matters come to a head.

There really isn’t much more to this than Connie dancing around making cute quips and looking adorable in her Chinese pyjamas, and certainly no grand statements about race aside from a rather cringe-worthy pronouncement that sits uneasily with the film’s ostensible message that ‘East or West, we’re all the same inside’. Some original reviews for the film were surprisingly lukewarm, and I find myself agreeing with them. It’s very pretty but doesn’t add up to much.

There is some significant damage to the first reel, and a few missing scenes towards the end are filled in by intertitles in this high quality restoration from EYE. San Franciscans will love the shots of old Chinatown.

KENTUCKY PRIDE (1925) - The tone of this heartwarming horse racing yarn becomes clear early on, when the horses receive top billing over the humans, and the narration comes from the horsey hero herself, Virginia’s Future. Stud owner H.B. Walthall’s kindly nature masks a gambling problem, plans for her glittering career as a racehorse go awry, and Virginia’s Future finds herself tossed out into a sometimes cruel world. Ford measures out the pathos in careful doses, and before you know it, you’re highly involved in her rousing story. Gertrude Astor is appropriately mean as Walthall’s gold-digging wife, while J. Farrell Macdonald doesn’t overdo the ‘Typically Oirish’ in his role as a stablehand turned police officer. Good clean fun.

TRAVELLIN’ ON (1922) - This subdued Western tells the tale of ‘Travellin’ On’, an archetypal William S. Hart Good Bad Man, who travels into town believing in nobody but himself - until he meets the wife of a weak-willed preacher whom the ornery locals are determined to run out of town. The film looks beautiful, thanks to quality art direction and unusual chiaroscuro lighting, and Hart’s fine-grained focus on grey morality is intriguing, but the pace is rather leisurely, and much like the film itself, Jon Mirsalis’ score tended to walk when it could have done with the occasional trot or canter. The third reel is missing, but the lack of a driving plot made the gap imperceptible.

THE ETERNAL GRIND (1916) - There was some doubt as to whether we’d get to see this fragment, as the video was late in arriving, but I’m very glad we did. It proved an unusual vehicle for Mary Pickford, and an appropriate film with which to celebrate Labor Day. 

Pickford is an impoverished New York garment worker supporting her two sisters - one a flirt, the other chronically ill. John Bowers, the compassionate son of the plant’s harsh owner, chooses to experience the sweatshop conditions firsthand, where he takes a shine to Mary. Meanwhile his dastardly brother is leading the flirt up the garden path, and the third sister’s condition is worsening. The surviving footage concludes about two thirds of the way through the story.

Bob Birchard valiantly stepped in to provide a running translation of the French intertitles, but the lengthy concluding crawl defeated us all, leaving the ending a mystery (Moving Picture World’s review provides some elucidation). In addition to the evocatively realised clothing factory and tenements, there are some great early shots of New York. 


THE WICKED DARLING (1919) - Guttersnipe Mary Stevens (Priscilla Dean) and her friend ‘Stoop’ (Lon Chaney) are petty street thieves. After stealing a pearl necklace from a socialite (Gertrude Astor), Mary is befriended by the deb’s rejected fiancé Kent (Wellington Playter). She finds herself transformed by his compassion and belief in her innocence, and sets about changing her ways. Can their love survive Kent’s discovery of her past transgression, and ‘Stoop’s jealousy?

Though it does mark Lon Chaney’s first appearance under the direction of Tod Browning, this film really belongs to Priscilla Dean, who is entirely convincing as the diamond-in-the-rough Mary. Photoplay’s typically high quality restoration made the best of a damaged source print and filled in some short missing scenes with explanatory titles. To my mind, the best silent of the weekend.

BRONCHO BILLY AND THE BANDIT’S SECRET (2013) - This sweet modern silent, put together by the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum to commemorate the centenary of Essanay’s arrival at Niles, finds Bronco Billy (Bruce Cates) seeking inspiration in the exploits of a local criminal gang for his latest film. Cates and Christopher Green Goodwin (The Sheriff) will have a long future in silents if they should so desire it, and a guest appearance by Diana Serra Cary surely boosted that good lady into the Guinness Book of Records. Nice work.


CINECON 50: The Talkies

HOLD THAT BLONDE! (1945) is a so-so screwball remake of Paths to Paradise (1925), seen earlier in the weekend, with the suave Raymond Griffith replaced by the less attractive Eddie Bracken, awkwardly Code-neutered into a dim-witted clinical kleptomaniac who has been prescribed a good marriage as his cure, while Veronica Lake has been tricked into a life of crime via blackmail. Little of the earlier scenario is retained aside from a few isolated gags and the central idea of the theft of a diamond necklace. A lengthy Harold Lloyd style thrill sequence was received with nary a titter, an essay on what works wonderfully in a silent, but just seems vaguely sadistic in a talkie.

THE BARONESS AND THE BUTLER (1938) - William Powell made a brief sojourn from MGM to 20th Century Fox to launch the American career of Frenchwoman Annabella in this enjoyable curiosity. Powell plays William Porok, butler to the conservative Prime Minister of Hungary (Henry Stephenson), who is suddenly elevated to Parliament for a progressive party that opposes everything his master stands for. 

Powell must juggle his commitment to the Parliament and the family - and deal with his feelings for their beautiful but spoilt daughter (Annabella). Ironically, the weak link is Annabella herself, who might better have been introduced via a smaller role. Her accent is sometimes hard to understand, and it’s rather incongruous coming from the daughter of an American and Englishman, but it’s a small quibble.


BUCK BENNY RIDES AGAIN (1940) - This is the sort of film Cinecon does so well - well produced, shamelessly and relentlessly entertaining, and unjustly forgotten. Jack Benny plays radio star Jack Benny, later assuming the self consciously faux-Western persona of Buck Benny as he pursues the lovely but unwilling Joan Cameron (Ellen Drew), a member of the singing Cameron trio, who are working at a fancy desert resort. Benny lets a number of fellow radio stars share in the fun, including Phil Harris and Dennis Day, but it’s Eddie ‘Rochester’ Anderson who almost steals the show as Benny’s butler, particularly when he pairs with Theresa Harris in a great song and dance number. Unrelenting fun.

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DIVORCE (1942) - This battle of the sexes comedy begins well, with sparkling dialogue and funny situations reminiscent of last year’s wonderful Suddenly It’s Spring, whose plot it resembles. Chauvinist George (Joseph Allen) becomes bothered by his hyper-competent wife Lynn (Lynn Bari). Literally bumping in to the helplessly feminine Lola (Mary Beth Hughes), he finds her subservience more to his liking. 

The film skids off the rails when Lynn’s new musician lover (Nils Asther, in an all-too-brief cameo), is dispatched for the sake of a rather nasty plot point, which both sides seize upon to further their agendas. Had this incident been better integrated, it would have made for a much better film - though this does not change the baffling matter of why Bari’s character works so hard to win back a husband who remains a complete oaf.

WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION (1957) - Billy Wilder’s courtroom drama not only remains a knockout, but one of the most beautifully cast films I’ve ever seen. Each suspect has exactly the right kind of ambiguity for their character - Marlene Dietrich’s mix of ice and fire for Christine; the earnest and yet evasive Leonard (Tyrone Power), while the mighty Charles Laughton anchors the film as the blustery barrister Sir Wilfred, with wife Elsa Lanchester in able comic support. In accordance with the concluding voiceover, I will not divulge the plot, except to say that if you’ve never caught the film and want to see a master at work, find a copy immediately. 

Ruta Lee, who played a minor role, was in attendance, and had some funny recollections about working with Laughton.


A LITTLE BIT OF HEAVEN (1940) - Young Midge (Gloria Jean, Universal’s intended replacement for Deanna Durbin) is the beloved daughter of a hardscrabble extended family with a big heart. When she crashes a live radio broadcast and proves a hit with the listeners, she’s signed to a contract and the family’s luck changes. Soon, they’re living in a huge mansion with fancy new friends, but Midge begins to suspect that fame and fortune aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. On the basis of Jean’s performance, it’s hard to see why she did not go further, except to say that she occasionally comes across as a little too polished. The supporting cast is good, and features Billy Gilbert as comic relief.

Of particular interest is Midge’s large coterie of uncles, almost all of whom are played by silent era veterans, including Charles Ray, Maurice Costello, Monte Blue, William Desmond and Noah Beery Sr.

HUMAN CARGO (1936) - I’ve enjoyed the Claire Trevor/Allan Dwan films of the late 30s that have been shown in previous years, and this one did not disappoint - a slam dunk as the best talkie of the festival. Claire Trevor plays a fast-talking society dame who wants a leg-up in the newspaper game. She receives one when she gets a lead on a human trafficking racket, much to the annoyance her rival, ace newspaperman Packy Campbell (Brian Donlevy). The two go undercover and form an uneasy alliance in an attempt to identify the ringleader, stumbling into further danger. 

Donlevy and Trevor are terrific, an attractive brunette named Rita Cansino shows promise in her short role as a nightclub dancer, but Helen Troy, as a switchboard operator-cum-Greek chorus, almost steals the show. The film whizzes by at a whirlwind clip. Thoroughly entertaining.


MEET ME IN ST LOUIS (1944) - Seeing this perennial favourite on the big screen was treat enough, but to see it in a jaw-droopingly gorgeous new million-dollar restoration was a knockout. The story probably needs no introduction - in any case, it’s one of those films you watch less for the narrative and more to become enveloped in the atmosphere, and this screening only served to remind us of Vincente Minnelli’s mastery on that score. Margaret O’Brien’s post-screening Q&A was quite brief, but contained some insights about performing with Judy Garland.

ALWAYS IN TROUBLE (1938) - In this very silly farce, Jane Withers plays the daughter of a newly wealthy family, whose madcap schemes to help her exhausted Papa see the family and a bewildered interloper stranded on a desert island, tangling with opportunistic crooks, and caught up in a fake kidnapping plot. I suspect that even the kiddies at the Saturday matinee for whom this was designed would have considered it pretty thin stuff.

ONE NIGHT OF LOVE (1934) - Anyone who has read Bob Thomas’ King Cohn will know this film by reputation, with reports of star Grace Moore’s capricious behaviour and fractious relationship with Harry Cohn. There is little trace of these tensions in the completed film, the tale of an aspiring opera star who rises to fame under a prickly Svengali, Monteverdi (Tullio Carminati). 

Moore sings beautifully and looks lovely, despite being saddled with some ghastly costumes, and I’m always interested to spot Mona Barrie, whose career began in Australia. The film risks wearing out its welcome as Moore ping-pongs between Monteverdi and the boy-next-door Bill (Lyle Talbot) but the lengthy excerpts from Carmen and Madame Butterfly are a highlight, and there is ultimately much to enjoy about this glossy production.


CINECON 50: The Shorts

Time to interrupt the film diary once more, for a report on Cinecon, marking its half-century as Hollywood’s best showcase of rare films, new restorations and other gems for the serious cinephile!

Firstly, the shorts - which appropriately featured a strong emphasis on Charlie Chaplin, given the 100th anniversary of his first film, and Flicker Alley’s sterling restoration of Chaplin’s Mutual comedies.

VITAPHONE FROLIC (1937) gives the audience a front row ticket to a typical vaudeville show of the era. A peculiar act in which a very flexible man dressed as a life-sized golliwog allows himself to be thrown around like a rag doll is the most memorable of the four acts on display.


BRIDE AND GLOOM (1921) is a great Monty Banks comedy which I found much superior to The Covered Schooner, which we saw at Cinecon in 2012. Monty must scrape together $5,000 to marry his wealthy lady love, so he takes out a personal injury insurance policy. Unlike our typical silent comedy hero, he’s trying his hardest to get hurt - but failing miserably! A cute ending makes Sherlock Jr style fun of the standard fade-out of the time. Good shots of early Los Angeles no doubt provided John Bengston with some homework.

KID AUTO RACES AT VENICE (1914) - It’s only moderately funny, but the fascination here is in seeing ordinary people watching Charlie Chaplin as a complete stranger for the first and last time. In its restored state, the revelation is all the greater. The picture is so sharp that it’s hard to believe that a week has passed since it was filmed, much less a century.

THEIR FIRST MISUNDERSTANDING (1911) - Mary Pickford and real life husband Owen Moore play a newly married but jealous couple who find various ways to rib one another before finally reconciling. Sensationally discovered in an old barn in 2011, it’s unremarkable as a film but intriguing as a historical document. Given that Pickford credited herself with the scenario, you wonder if she already suspected her marriage to Moore would not be smooth sailing. Director Thomas Ince and an unrecognisable Ben Turpin appear as extras, but the real eye-opener was seeing Little Mary pretend to smoke a cigarette!

THE ADVENTURER (1917) provides a succinct summary of Chaplin’s acrobatics, with which we’re all so familiar - but the restoration allows us also to see the nuances for the very first time. Several times, I spotted Chaplin flick the audience the merest glance as he works his way further into trouble, as if to say ‘Ahem. Bear with me, now …’ To me, the Mutuals remain the purest expression of what Chaplin did best, and kudos once again to all who were involved in their restoration.

In a longer-than-expected break in the program, we had the surprise treat of MOTHER GOOSE IN SWINGTIME (1939), a short of the Mickey’s Gala Premiere celebrity spoof genre which looked great on the big screen in full Technicolor.


SNAPPY SNEEZER (1929) - This is a good example of a short that would have been perfectly charming as a silent, but sometimes feels a little clunky as a talkie, despite the presence of the always likeable Charley Chase. Charley’s got problems with hay fever, and the man he sneezed all over on the streetcar turns out to be the father of the girl he wants to date (Thelma Todd). Needless to say, things don’t go smoothly, as Thelma’s driving lesson turns into a literal roller coaster ride.

SCRAM! (1932) - This hoot-worthy Laurel and Hardy short has the boys, told by a court to beat it after being charged with vagrancy for sleeping in a park, befriend a wealthy drunk who invites them home. The trouble is, it’s not his home, and the blonde they accidentally get drunk is not his wife!

THE MASQUERADER (1914) - Chaplin plays a rejected actor who attempts to trick his director into giving him another role by returning to set dressed as a flirtatious actress. The main interest in this short is glimpses of the real-life Keystone studio in action. That, and contemplating that Chaplin makes a disturbingly attractive woman.

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A 1916 Film Diary: “Saw Louise Lovely with Fred”


Margaret must have enjoyed Louise Lovely’s first appearance with Universal’s Blue Bird Photoplays, as she rushed out to see her second release, The Grip of Jealousy, as early as possible - this time bringing along her fiancée, Fred.

The film told the story of the feuding Grants and Moreys, one family from the American North, and the other from the South. Pretty Southerner Virginia Grant (Louise Lovely) falls in love with Jack Morey (Colin Chase). They are secretly married; tragically, Virginia dies in childbirth and the child is raised by the family’s slaves, under the belief that it she actually the child of a slave and her brutal owner, Silas Lacey (Lon Chaney). As the girl grows into a beautiful young woman, there is a complicated battle both over her actual parentage and her hand in marriage.


It is difficult to say how the sensitive racial issues would have played out, except to say that in keeping with conventions of the time, there were no black actors in the cast, the roles being played by white actors in blackface. This included several members of the Belasco family, the famous thespian clan led by David Belasco, who had elevated one Gladys Marie Smith - later Mary Pickford - to stage stardom.

The Mirror of Australia considered that while her role provided Louise with a good opportunity to demonstrate her abilities, ‘the story is ordinary in theme but good in construction.’ Moving Picture World, while hailing its high production quality and a powerful performance by Lon Chaney, also expressed reservations: "There is effective characterisation and not a few of the scenes are given a thoroughly artistic presentation; but the picture in its entirely is likely to leave a vague, rather unsatisfactory impression … the many characters are likely to become confused, an unfortunate circumstance that must discount the effect of scenes very well handled, if considered individually."

Lon Chaney made a second appearance alongside Louise, as did Hayward Mack, a tall and handsome character actor who had been prolific since the early 1910s, but is little known today. His career still appeared to be going strong as he entered the next decade, which makes the reason that he chose to drink poison at his home near Lafayette Park, Los Angeles on Christmas Eve in 1921 all the more mysterious. He was 39 years old.

Along with the Grip of Jealousy as the main feature, there was the now familiar series of sweeteners - an episode of a serial, The Broken Coin, written by and starring Grace Cunard; a Henry Lehrman comedy short Caught on a Skyscraper, which no doubt contained the hair-raising thrill sequences for which Lehrman was already famous, and a war short, entitled Scientific Warfare. As with The Grip of Jealousy, all of these films are thought to be lost.


While The Grip of Jealousy was the second of Louise’s films to be shown in Sydney, it was actually the first released in America, and its marketing indicates the extent to which the actress’ persona had been carefully constructed. “Bluebird Creates New Film Star,” boasted America’s Moving Picture World, in explaining that Universal’s Joseph de Grasse had noticed extraordinary potential in the girl who had initially worked at his studio as an extra.

For several years, Louise was one of Universal’s biggest stars, but a contract dispute meant she ended with the company on poor terms. She was never quite able to regain her former profile, and returned to Australia in the mid 1920s in order to give public lectures on the art of film-making, assist in a national talent spotting quest, and to begin her own local production company. Though her sole production Jewelled Nights (1925) was beautifully produced, it did not cover costs and proved to be her swan song.

Louise lived out her days in Tasmania, where her second husband, Bert Cowan, managed Hobart’s Prince of Wales Theatre. Few of the patrons who made their purchases from the little old lady who manned the refreshment stand might have realised that she had briefly been one of the world’s most beautiful and famous women.


The Haymarket Theatre was a brand new establishment which had opened earlier in the year, on 22 April. Aside from its nearly 2,000 seats, the new theatre boasted a dramatic electric sign, an innovation that was rapidly becoming more common. “It consists of two sprays of water, one on each side of the building, rising out of a fountain supported by two giant fish,” explained the Sunday Times. “The sprays arch inwards to the centre and fall into the words comprising the name of the theatreemerging underneath in the form of huge drops,which fall splashing into a shallow trough.”

The theatre would later have a unique connection with Australian cinema. Renamed the Civic in the early 1930s, it became for a brief time the only major cinema ever to show an exclusive program of Australian films. It was one of many George Street theatres demolished during the mid 1980s, rendered obsolete by the major multi-screen cinema development further up George Street. It is now the site of a shopping arcade.

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A 1916 Film Diary: Tennessee’s Pardner


Although she did not mention the film in her diary, perhaps Margaret enjoyed The Cheat better than we are aware. At the end of a difficult month, she revisited the film’s star, Fannie Ward, in Tennessee’s Pardner. The venue was Waddington’s Strand Theatre, which once sat on Pitt Street, approximately across the road from the still-extant Strand Arcade. It was demolished in 1928 amidst ambitious plans to construct a new shopping arcade between Pitt St and Castlereagh St which were never realised - at least, not until many decades later.

The tale of Tennessee’s Pardner was adapted from the famous short story about the ‘Forty Niners’, or participants in the California Gold Rush, by American frontier author Bret Harte. The adaptation was a very loose one - for one thing, the ‘Tennessee’ of the original version was not even a woman. “Apart from the title of the setting … the play has not much in common with Bret Harte’s story,” grumbled Melbourne’s Punch. ”All the same, it it a fine drama well produced and acted.”

The Tennessee of this version was a ‘waif of the plains, a child of the desert,’ according to the Sunday Times - a baby who is abandoned by her mother after her father is shot, and brought up by a group of kindly ‘Forty Niners’ who christen her ‘Tennessee’. One of the miners, Jack Hunter (Jack Dean) vows to make the girl his ‘partner’ in every gold discovery he makes. The baby grows up into a beautiful young woman, who becomes curious to know about her parents. Little does she know that the man who killed her father now has romantic designs upon her.

"No expense has been spared, by the producer to build up the surroundings of the great past as a fit setting for the picture," reported the Sunday Times. “In a break we are taken back to those roaring days of ‘49, with all their brutality, their charm, and their dangers. Bret Harte was a ‘Forty-niner himself, and he knew what he was writing about when he told his wonderful story. [Producer, Jesse L.] Lasky has not failed in his efforts to make the picture ring true.”


A number of beautiful sequences were shot at the famous San Fernando Mission in California. “This wonderful mission, with its many rooms and outbuildings, was built by the Jesuit priests, with the assistance of the Indians, in the early days of the 19th century,” explained Sydney’s Referee. “It was in one of these missions that the little girl Tennessee was brought up under the guidance of an old priest, before being taken to the little mining town of Sandy Bar.”

It was the leading lady who scooped the lion’s share of critical plaudits. “Rarely has a woman artist brightened the screen more delightfully than Fannie Ward in this picture,” raved Moving Picture World. Character actor Raymond Hatton also received admiring notices. He would go on to appear in literally hundreds of Westerns, the last of which he shot almost exactly fifty years after filming his role in Tennessee’s Pardner.

Margaret seems to have been very fond of the Western genre, and gave Tennessee’s Pardner one of her best reviews of the year: “Splendid.” The film survives in full in a beautiful 35mm print, which appeared several years ago at the annual Cinecon classic film festival in Hollywood.


Part of the curious fascination of Fannie Ward was her preternaturally girlish appearance. By the time she made The Cheat, she had already been a well known stage actress for a quarter of a century, and when she played a teenager in Tennessee’s Pardner, she was 44 years old. Much speculation centred on exactly how she maintained her youthful looks, one theory suggesting that she injected her face with paraffin wax, which occasionally melted under the stage lights!

Ward claimed that her looks were the product of nothing more than skipping breakfast, eschewing white bread and red meat, and a daily application of ice to the face as a ‘muscle tightener’. The rather taut smile she displayed in later years suggests that an early form of plastic surgery made the greater contribution. Ward delicately avoided questions, admitting that she supported what was already called ‘face lifting’ when it was absolutely necessary, though adding “Most women don’t need facial surgery. They could do a lot for themselves without it.”

Ward continued to play on her youthful looks well into the late 1920s when, aged sixty, she opened her own beauty parlour called The Fountain of Youth, and appeared on vaudeville as ‘The Miracle Woman’.

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A 1916 Film Diary: “Saw Louise Lovely”


Two terrible years of war,” Margaret says in her diary for 4 August, a day when she received further bad news - her younger brother Jack had been injured in combat. Friends rushed to the Higgins household to hold a vigil as they waited for news.

Families were often told very little after a soldier was injured, other than that their condition was stable and non-serious, and they would be notified immediately of any change. It was over a week before Jack was able to cable his parents from his hospital bed in London, and inform them that his injury - a gunshot wound to the arm - was fortunately a minor one.

Nor was there any further word on the fate of Margaret’s friend, still missing without trace, though she recognises that the possibility of good news is very slim. ”Oh unhappy day,” she says on the 13th. “Poor Frank McKay missing since July 20th. No hope. Lord have mercy on his poor soul. I cannot realise it.

There was a welcome respite on the 11th, when Margaret travelled to the Haymarket Theatre for a special occasion: the release of Tangled Hearts, the first American film of the Australian-born film star Louise Lovely.


The notion that Louise Lovely was Australia’s first international star of film is somewhat overstating the matter - Marrickville-born swimming star Annette Kellerman is just one of several candidates for that role - but there is no doubt that she became one of the highest profile.

It appears that it was the canny marketing of Universal Pictures that suddenly inspired Australians to remember the vaudevillian named Louise Carbasse who had appeared on their stages with her husband, Wilton Welch, only a few years earlier. Though she had also appeared in several Australian films, they had not received wide promotion or distribution, and as far as many Australian viewers knew, the film that Margaret saw was Louise’s film debut.

It seems that Margaret did not attend vaudeville - at the time considered a rougher cousin to legitimate theatre and potentially unsavoury entertainment for a Catholic girl - so it is unlikely that she ever saw Louise Carbasse on stage, but the fact that she was thrilled that a young Australian woman like herself was making a name in the film business can be judged from the fact that whenever Margaret saw one of her films during 1916, she noted not the name of the film, but the name of the star.


Tangled Hearts, which is now lost, told a rather melodramatic story that was outlined by Sydney’s redoubtable Sunday Times. It is a peculiarity of silent era reviews that crucial plot details were frequently revealed - a possible annoyance for readers of the time, but fortunate for us today when they are all that remain of many pictures:

Montgomery Seaton (Hayward Mack) and his wife, Lucille (Louise Lovely), are society folks. Among their friends are John Hammond (Lon Chaney) and his wife, Enid (Agnes Vernon). Enid and Montgomery were once sweethearts, and she confides in him. Before marriage she had a child, and through the death of a friend she had now to find a new home for the child. Lucille sees them together and is jealous. Montgomery pretends to Hammond that he wants to find a home for his child, the mother threatening to expose him unless he looks, after it. Hammond agrees, and Enid has her own child.

Vera Lane and her wooer, Ernest Courtney, are also friends of the Seatons. Lucille finds some verses Montgomery has written for Ernest to give Vera, and her jealousy grows. Her suspicions increase when she hears that Montgomery has taken a girl, Enid’s daughter, to the Hammond home.

Vera consoles Lucille, and tells her to try to win her husband back by flirting with other men. Enid writes a letter to Montgomery, expressing her gratitude to him for getting her child into her home. Hammond finds it, and is shocked to learn that the child is his wife’s and, presumably, Seaton’s. Hammond confronts Enid and Montgomery with a revolver. Hammond takes Enid home, and Vera persuades him to forgive her.

Louise would make a number of films with Lon Chaney - later legendary as a horror actor, but an equally fine dramatic character actor - as well as with her female co-star, Agnes Vernon. Renamed “Brownie” Vernon, the latter would go on to repay the favour to Australia, to which she would travel in 1919 to become the leading lady for another local star, Reg “Snowy” Baker.


The fact that Baker himself later found some success in Hollywood is a reminder that Louise was by no means the only famous Australian in the film capital during the silent era. Aside from Baker and Annette Kellerman, she was in the company of Harry ‘Snub’ Pollard, Billy Bevan, Leon Errol, Enid Bennett, Arthur Shirley, Sydney Deane, J.P. McGowan, Clyde Cook, Sylvia Breamer, Paul Scardon, Sidney Bracey, Marc Macdermott, Mae Busch, Hazel Deane, Dorothy Cumming and May Robson, just to name a few. Australian performers were so numerous in Hollywood that they even gained a nickname - the ‘Gum Leaf Mafia’. 

Known during her stage career as Louise Carbasse, Louise loathed the syrupy name given to her Universal Pictures scion Carl Laemmle, the circumstances of which were explained by Melbourne’s Punch:

When she first arrived in America, or rather when her first picture arrived, there were neverending mistakes in the spelling of her name, until wires were shooting all over the country to ask how she spelt herself. Laemmle, who was at the first showing of her picture at the Universal offices, kept saying “Isn’t she lovely ?” Everybody said the same. Then the head of the Universal ask ed her name, and everyone said something different, till finally, Laemmle exclaimed, “Oh, let’s call her Louise Lovely !” And Louise Lovely she is.”

It seems that the matter was even more complicated than that. Numerous trade reports agreed that Louise had decided to eschew ‘Carbasse’ as too difficult to spell, but had settled upon her married name, Louise Welch, as the alternative. No later had this been announced than she was rechristened a third time. ”General Order No. 9360 - To all Universal Publicity Men: Kindly arrange to have Louise Carbasse-Welch-Lovely reach at least an approximate decision regarding her name before October,” joked Motion Picture News in early 1916. “The next issue of Motion Picture News Studio Directory goes to press then, and we want to know who she’s going to be.”

Universal’s choice may have had less to do with pronunciation and more to do with positioning Louise as a challenger to another ‘lovely’ screen star - Mary Pickford.

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