Action figures

Why don't we have more of these?

I discovered a wonderful action figure of Lon Chaney from the famous (and, sadly, lost) film London After Midnight. You can also get figures of him as Erik in Phantom of the Opera and as Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I did find, much to my delight, a series called Silent Screamers Action Figures. These gems include the Frankenstein monster from Edison's 1910 version of the classic tale (in which Charles Ogle played the monster) and Count Orlok from Murnau's classic Nosferatu.

These figures were all sold out at the website I checked. But they're sold all over the place.

How about some other figures?

- John Gilbert and Lillian Gish in La Boheme

- Valentino and Agnes Ayres in The Sheik

- Buster Keaton and Brown Eyes in Go West

- Harold Lloyd and Jobyna Ralston in Girl Shy

- Ronald Colman and Vilma Banky in any of their movies

- Richard Barthelmess and Lillian Gish in Way Down East

- Wallace Reid and Gloria Swanson in The Affairs of Anatol

- George O'Brien and Janet Gaynor in Sunrise

Come on, people! Get with it! Make some!

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Buster Keaton Convention

The 15th Annual Damfino Convention will take place October 2 and 3, 2009, in Muskegon, Michigan.

Events include:

- A screening of Buster's classic film, The General

- A walking tour of Buster's former neighborhood in Bluffton.

- A banquet on Saturday night.

- A reception at the train depot in Muskegon.

For more information, tips on places to stay, downloadable registration forms, and more, take a look here.

The Arbuckle scandal

This, in my opinion, was one of the biggest tragedies ever to strike Hollywood.

Things were going so well for Arbuckle in 1921. He was a famous comedian, he was the first in his field to make a million dollars a year (a fabulous sum now, and truly astronomical then). He had introduced to screen the incomparable Buster Keaton, and in 1921, Buster made his first feature film. The two were good friends, and Arbuckle needed all the friends he could get after all hell broke loose.

In Buster Keaton: A Hard Act to Follow, footage was included of Buster being interviewed about his friend Roscoe (who was NEVER called "Fatty" by his friends; he hated the nickname). Buster said indignantly, "Certainly he was wronged! He was no more guilty of that than I was!"

As for what really happened during the infamous Labor Day party, we may never know. A week later, a would-be starlet was dead, and Arbuckle was blamed for causing her death. The accounts vary wildly; either Arbuckle was a sex fiend who assaulted this poor, innocent young woman, which then led to her death of peritonitis due to a ruptured bladder, or this extremely active young woman, already infected with more than one sexually-transmitted disease, died of peritonitis from a ruptured bladder as the result of a botched abortion, one of several.

Certainly, Hearst was willing to put the blame squarely on Arbuckle. Buster stated that Hearst said - in front of Buster himself - that the Arbuckle affair sold more papers than the sinking of the Lusitania.

When I watch the movies Arbuckle and Buster made together, Buster's genius is obvious, even in his very first role. Arbuckle was no mean hand at physical comedy himself, and he had some pretty good little routines, but had it not been for the storm surrounding him, much of which continues to this day, what would have happened to him? He didn't have the staying power that Buster did, or Harold Lloyd. He did have talent, though, and his joy in making comedy still shines through.

Buster's walk

So many people have imitated Chaplin's walk. I've never seen anyone try to imitate the way Buster Keaton walked, and I've never known anyone to remark on it, either.

It's one of the many things that strike me when I watch him. He has this particular walk, very distinctive, that fits in perfectly with the characters he plays. It's almost a toddle, as if his character is still, primarily, a child. Then he breaks out of it and starts to run, to dance, to climb, but he always returns to that walk.

Even after watching his films over and over again, it's hard to describe it, exactly. He moves through the chaos almost as if it had nothing to do with him (and, often, it doesn't). He toddles, he stumps, he staggers - but whatever he does, it's the right movement for what he is doing at the time. In a way, it's something like a wind-up toy, arms and legs in their own special harmony.

There are none of Chaplin's cane-twirling affectations about Buster; his walk is so much a part of his onscreen character that it can be difficult to focus on it alone. And he never lost it! In the episode of The Twilight Zone ("Once Upon A Time"), he takes on the character, and the walk, with the utmost ease.

Such genius.

Another dream couple

This may raise quite a few eyebrows.

I was thinking about dream couples (see my previous post by that title), and I came up with one that may seem ridiculous, but it works for me:

Lillian Gish and Buster Keaton.

Yes, I know Lillian was noted for tragedy, and Buster for comedy. Some of you may be shrieking, "No! Dorothy was the comedy player, not Lillian!" I know Dorothy was the comedienne of the family, and a good one, but as far as I'm concerned, there wasn't a single thing Lillian couldn't do, on screen or stage. The same is true for Buster.

They both had an amazing ability to do whatever it took to make the scene - and the film - as effective as possible. They both took enormous risks. They were both completely dedicated to their craft. Lillian subjected herself to hypothermia (Way Down East), intense heat and wind (The Wind), and starvation (La Boheme). Buster came within a hair's breadth of drowning (Our Hospitality), stood still while the front of a house fell around him (Steamboat Bill, Jr.), and ran a wild ride on the handlebars of a riderless motorcycle (Sherlock, Jr.).

Buster has an edge here, having suffered a serious injury on the set of Sherlock, Jr. without realizing it, and only discovering more than a decade later that he had broken his neck (the scene where he is dangling from the chain of a water tower, and the flood of water throws him onto the railroad tracks).

Both were perfectionists; both gave it their all.

So, you may ask, in what sort of film could they have costarred?

Answer: I don't know. Light comedy, perhaps; Lillian was noted for her deeply tragic roles, and it would be nice to see a change of pace. One of Buster's misfortunes on film was that his leading ladies - with the exception of Sybil Seely - simply didn't register much; they were there, and they went through the motions. Lillian would never have been one of the bland, faceless crowd; she'd have given as good as she got, and I think they'd have been marvelous together.

Performances

Here is a list of some of my favorite performances in silent film. Yes, I'm sure I'll be returning to this topic, too.

Lillian Gish. Well. Is there anything Lillian couldn't do? I doubt it. I don't have just one favorite performance; here are some of them:

Lucy in Broken Blossoms. Pushing up the corners of her mouth in a rictus rather than a smile, while her eyes overflow with terror; regarding a doll with wonder and quiet joy.

Anna in Way Down East. The baptism scene is my favorite in the movie. She gently applies water to the baby's head, then looks heavenward with an expression of pleading on her face. Lillian claimed that the baby's father, who was watching the filming of this scene, fainted while it was being filmed. She heard a thump as he slid to the floor.

Mimi in La Boheme. Starving herself for three days to make her death scene more realistic. Holding the back of a cart and letting it drag her along a street. Throwing herself at John Gilbert as he attempts to storm out of the room. Everything works in this performance.

Okay, on to other performers.

John Gilbert in The Show. God, what a triumph it was for him, and what a great talent was dimmed so soon. He's the ultimate anti-hero; someone you simply can't stand, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, but Gilbert makes you watch him. You can't take your eyes away.

Henry B. Walthall in The Birth of a Nation. Such a shame the film took the slant that it did. Walthall effortlessly takes control of his scenes, matched only by Lillian Gish as his love interest. His best scenes, for me, are the battle scenes where Ben Cameron is ducking bullets; the scenes in the hospital, when he is recovering from his wounds; and the love story with Elsie Stoneman.

Conrad Veidt in The Man Who Laughs. Having the corners of his mouth wired in a permanent smile, able to show his feelings only through his eyes. How many other actors could do it?

Lon Chaney. Here's another one with a string of excellent performances. Among them:

Tito in Laugh, Clown, Laugh. Portraying a middle-aged man who has fallen in love with his foster daughter, to whom he can only ever be her father. The look of pain on his face when interacting with her near the end of the film is heartrending.

The Miracle Man. I know, I know - only a few minutes of footage still exist. Even so, it's enough to show Chaney's incredible ability to work with his body, as his character is "healed" by faith.

The Penalty. He was brutal in that film, and it works perfectly. His physical stunts were no less impressive; hauling his whole body upwards by means of pegs inserted into holes in the wall never ceases to amaze me.

Buster Keaton. Everything Buster did, was uniquely his. That ability he had to convey a wide range of emotions without laughing or smiling is one that nobody will ever be able to do again. All of his performances are my favorites, even if not all of the films are.

Harold Lloyd in Girl Shy. Harold's "glasses" character can get on my nerves, but here, rather than being the typically brash young man, he's shy, withdrawn, and has a stutter. I was most impressed by the scene where he is pretending to his girlfriend that she never meant anything to him, and begins to laugh. In the midst of his laughter, you see an expression of deep disgust on his face that makes the scene even more poignant.

More later.

Crushes

I belong to an Internet group for lovers of silent film. For the most part, the group is pretty quiet. We get news of screenings worldwide from one member, and occasionally someone posts some news concerning silent film, but not much else, except for the recent flurry of excitement when the missing footage of Metropolis was discovered.

Last year, though, one of the members started a thread that became wildly popular. We were all to list our favorite "hot" silent stars. The key word was SHALLOW.

Responses came thick and fast. The men were listed first, until someone broke the ice and started listing women. Then the names came even faster. One member asked to be removed from the email list, as a result.

After doing a brief tally of the candidates, I discovered the winners among the men:

Richard Barthelmess and Rudolph Valentino. These two received the most mentions. Ronald Colman ran a respectable second, and Wallace Reid was third. Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd outstripped Douglas Fairbanks and fellow comedian Charlie Chaplin.

Among the women, the winner was clear:

Clara Bow. She received far more mentions than Greta Garbo, who, though on the list, lagged behind Corinne Griffith, Jobyna Ralston, and Pola Negri. Clara ranked above them all.

There were a few odd mentions, such as George O'Brien and Conrad Veidt. One member voted for Rin-Tin-Tin. The enthusiasm was something I haven't seen on the list before or since, at least until the Metropolis news, but at least one member didn't share the joy, as shown by this plaintive message:

"Will this thread ever die? It's like the time someone left their autoresponse on and flooded everyone's mailbox."