Review - The Strong Man

 April 18, 2022
 
The Strong Man – U.S., 1924
 

Legend has it that Charlie Chaplin shut down production of his 1931 film, City Lights, for a year due to a terrible case of creator’s block; see, he just couldn’t explain why a blind woman would mistake the Tramp for a wealthy patron. While that length of time might seem excessive, I can understand Chaplin’s desire to get it right, and perhaps part of his obsession with finding the right rationale was due to a film released just five years earlier that must have driven coherency-focused writers like Chaplin absolutely nuts. That film was Frank Capra’s The Strong Man, starring former circus, medicine show, and Vaudeville performer, Harry Langdon.
 
In The Strong Man, Langdon plays Paul Bergot, a Belgian World War I soldier stationed in No Man’s Land. When Bergot isn’t firing at unseen German soldiers, he’s gazing longingly at the picture of Mary Brown, a young woman who has confessed her love for him in a letter he must have read a million times. When he lets his guard down and resumes gazing at her picture, he is captured by a rather large strong German soldier who whisks him away presumably to a POW camp. I say presumably because the very next time we see him, he’s the assistant of this very same German soldier and traveling around the U.S. as the marquee member of a strong man act. I imagine the story of their pairing would have made for quite an interesting film.
 
Slapstick is sometimes described as a collection of humorous scenes loosely connected to a romantic subplot that hardly seems to have been given the time needed for it to blossom and engage, and The Strong Man fits this description for the most part. In addition to the scene in No Man’s Land, in which German bullets actually do Bergot a favor by exterminating the cooties crawling over him, there’s a humorous bit involving Bergot, the strong man, and some rather large luggage, a clever bit in which Bergot unsuccessfully tries to get away from a woman who hid a wad of stolen money in his coat pocket (she initially claims to be “Little Mary”), Bergot’s attempts at putting on a strong man act solo, and finally a long scene in which he defends Mary’s honor against a scoundrel intent on making Mary one of his “attractions” as punishment for her preacher father’s campaign against sin and vice. In other words, the film has enough creative elements to work wonders. There’s even an extremely clever bit in which Bergot is tossed from a wagon only to tumble down a hill and crash into the very same wagon as it continues its way down a hill.
 
My favorite of these bits is the one involving the femme fatale (Gertrude Astor) because of its extraordinary choreography. In one clever bit, the woman keeps trying to reach into Bergot’s pocket only for him to turn at the most inopportune moment. There’s also a clever moment in which Bergot has realized the woman is not Mary (for rather old-fashioned reasons) and begun to walk away after she feigns passing out (really, that happens). The only problem is that a good Samaritan just happens to be nearby and calls out that he can’t just leave her like that, which in reality, he can’t and doesn’t. The scene culminates in Bergot carrying the woman up the stairs leading to her apartment and mistaking a number of things for steps. This part of the film is comic perfection.
 
And yet the rest of film does not work nearly as well as it should, primarily because the romantic angle is a headscratcher. So, here are two characters established in early scenes as being in love, and yet apparently they’ve never met. Perhaps there was a pen pal program during the First World War that I’m unware of, but it is hard to imagine how true love could flourish under such circumstances, especially 80 years before the idea of social media existed (and I’m still not entirely sold on the idea that it can flourish there). In fact, much of what passes as narrative in the film involves Bergot searching for Mary and knowing her so poorly that he runs in the direction of anyone whose names just happens to resemble hers.
 
And then we meet her, and the romantic pairing makes even less sense. See, Mary Brown (Priscilla Bonner), like the little flower girl in City Lights is blind, which begs more than a few questions, not the least of which is Who wrote the letters? I’ll add a few more. How did they start corresponding? Who took the picture? And finally, What was her plan for their eventual meeting? Again, the film has no answers. It seems more content to make Bergot her knight in shining armor, which is fine, yet its disinterest in justifying its characters’ deep feelings, reminiscent of the way it avoids explaining how two soldiers on the opposite side of a war could end up a Vaudeville team, hurts the film, for why should viewers invest in a couple or partnership if the makers of the film had no interest in rewarding that investment?
 
Sure, the two characters share a sweetness after they actually meet, and the film’s closing moments evoke the kind of warmth and contentment that accompanies most happy endings. However, here those feelings feel unearned, a bi-product of our natural disposition to smile whenever a princess gets her Prince Charming, even as we sense how ludicrous their pairing actually is.
 
Still, The Strong Man remains a decent film. Perhaps my misgivings have more to do with the curse of looking back, for seeing things in reverse order can make progress look like reversion, stripping a film of its rightful role as a necessary step in the development of cinema. One would hope story rises above aesthetics, but sometimes it does not, and having seen an idea done better can make another rendition of it less impressive regardless of whether one can mentally put the two films in chronological order. City Lights spoiled us, and its greatness makes similar movies – whether predecessors or successors – pale in comparison. It’s unfair, but…really, who wrote the darn letter? (on DVD as part of Kino’s Harry Langdon… the Forgotten Clown)
 
3 stars

Review - It (1927)

April 18, 2019

It – U.S.., 1927

An existential question: What came first: the concept of It or the article defining It? I ask this because the answer actually changes what would naturally follow the publishing of Elinor Glyn’s article in the movie It, which was based on Mrs. Glyn novel of the same name. In Mrs. Glyn’s words (she appears in the film as herself), “With It, you win all men if you are a woman, and all women if you are a man. It can be a quality of the mind as well as a physical attraction.” Now, if this is a new concept that no one has thought of, then all over the United States, people would have a reaction similar to that of the character Monty (William Austin). He clearly has never thought that such a thing as It existed, so naturally he goes and looks for proof of it, staring at the faces of both men and woman, as if searching for evidence of an attraction of such might that resistance is futile. However, if It has always existed, then Monty’s reaction is peculiar. When a term or concept conforms to or substantiates something we have sensed but not been able to put into words, one’s reaction is more likely to be that of acknowledgement or relief that you can finally say what you have long had an inclination to be true.

And what about someone with It? Do they know they have a quality that others do not, or is It something they have to be told they have? Do they notice the stares and envious looks and smile, or do they spend their days in ignorance, never realizing the power that they have over the opposite sex? Is having It a blessing or a curse? After all, how many times do we read reviews that seem to suggest that a stunningly beautiful actress is somehow not believable as a scientist or doctor?

Those looking for answers to questions such as these would, perhaps, be better off not watching Clarence G. Badger’s 1927 film It, for, truth be told, I’m not sure that anyone involved in the film had a clear concept of what It was. Perhaps that is why the film gives us an amalgamation of the above ideas. It is undeniable unless you choose to deny it; it is irresistible provided that you are not strong enough to resist it; and it has always existed, yet had to be defined for people to have any notion of its existence – and this apparently includes people who have It.

The film begins just after the publishing of an article on It, In an early scene, Monty, one of those people I can only assume was born wealthy and has never worked a day in his life, surprises his wealthy friend Cyrus Waltham (Antonio Moreno), the new boss at the “world’s largest store.” Monty comes across Mrs. Glyn’s article and becomes obsessed with proving its veracity. First, he studies Cyrus’s face and comes to the quick summation that he doesn’t have It, a conclusion the film will eventually abandon. Then he begins, almost like a judge at a beauty pageant, to size up the female employees of the department store. Soon, he sees Betty Lou Spence (Clara Bow), and just like that, he has found his first authentic example of It.

So, just who is Betty Lou? If you expected her to be the city’s most popular socialite, you’re mistaken. Instead, she is an ordinary person - single, employed, not economically secure, and, to her credit, nothing she does reveals any awareness that she has It. Perhaps I should add a caveat to that last sentences – nothing she does reveals any awareness that she has it yet, for just as Cyrus’s It status fluctuates, so too does Betty Lou’s. More on that later. Her first look at Cyrus is enough for her to wish that she’d get him for Christmas, and she exclaims, “Hot socks – the new boss.” (No, really.) From there, the film is really about her pursuits of him – the first to get him to notice her and the second to break his heart.

I suppose your level of interest in the film depends on whether you accept scenarios in which two people are said to be in love with little or no time devoted to developing this attachment. If the film is to be believed, It is all that is necessary for two people to fall in love, and it justifies all of the eccentricity that follows. I found it a stretch, and my mind began to contemplate other reasons for Betty Lou’s instant attraction, such as the economic security that landing him would get her. After all, if Cyrus really has It, why is Betty Lou the only one of his employees or work acquaintances pursuing him? At least, Betty Lou has two admirers, although even that number seems a bit low for someone with It. Interestingly, as strong as It is in the film, it is no match for social constraints.

There’s a nice bit toward the middle of the film involving Molly (Priscilla Bonner), a friend of Betty Lou’s whose recovering from giving birth and staying with her for economic reasons. There is no mention of the baby’s father, and a later scene may remind viewers of the end of Chaplin’s The Kid. Personally it made me reflect on the powerlessness of single mothers and the prejudice that society had for those that broke long-standing taboos concerning sex and pregnancy. I wanted more of this storyline, and I was pleased to see it used as Betty Lou’s motivation in the second half of the film. Does it negate the film’s central theme of It? Slightly, yet it also realistically points out the obstacles that class and traditional views have historically put in front of love.

The heart of the film is of course Betty Lou, and it is obvious why the role gave Clara Bow the status of It-girl. She is every bit the picture of a 20^th century woman – feisty, determined, independent, principled, and uncompromising. She knows what she wants, and she won’t be deterred by setbacks. As for Bow, she was every bit as talented as you’ve heard. There’s an ease to her performance, a naturalness that draws the viewer in. Watching the film, I marveled over the joy she seemed to be having playing particular scenes, only to then remember that many of these blissful moments were close-ups and likely to have been played to the camera and not a cast member. A good example of this is when Betty Lou is interacting with Molly’s baby. Another occurs at the Ritz, when Betty Lou is trying to get noticed by her oblivious knight in shining armor. I look forward to seeing more of her films.

So, I liked It. I even got a kick out of Monty’s quirkiness, yet part of me can’t shake the notion that the film has more in common with How to Marry a Millionaire than Paul Fejos’s Lonesome. By playing fast and loose with the concept of It, the film weakens its central notion of It existing in the first place. Thongs of men should be fawning over Betty Lou, and Cyrus should be flirted with constantly. I suspect the times didn’t allow this. However, by focusing so much on the question of will they or won’t they, a key character gets lost. I refer of course to Adela Van Norman (Jacqueline Gadsden), the woman Cyrus may or may not intend to marry at the beginning of the film (the movie only tells us of her interest in tying the knot with him), and if we think about it, most of us are a lot more like her than Betty Lou. Adela has known and stood by Cyrus for most of his life, and she has grown fond of him. But she’s traditional and safe. She would never think of throwing herself at Cyrus or making him jealous by dating his best friend. She’s the kind of people whom men often overlook in pursuit of what’s exciting and new. However, isn’t that the type that we often look back on as the one that got away? (on DVD)

3 stars

*The DVD of It that I watched was released by a company called Mr. FAT-W Video. Other than slight cropping during the opening credits, the quality is quite good, and I have no hesitation recommending it.