by Allan Fish
(USA 1918 84m) DVD1
So elergant
p Jesse L.Lasky, Mary Pickford d Marshall Neilan w Frances Marion novel William J.Locke ph Walter Stradling ed uncredited m Philip C.Carli art Wilfred Buckland
Mary Pickford (Stella Maris/Unity Blake), Conway Tearle (John Risca), Marcia Manon (Louisa Risca), Camille Ankewich, Josephine Crowell (Aunt Gladys Linden), Herbert Standing (Sir Oliver Blount), Ida Waterman (Lady Eleanor Blunt), Lou Conley (nurse), Gustav Von Seyffertitz (surgeon),
Trying to watch a Mary Pickford film in the UK is like searching for the sangraal. None of her films have ever been released on video, let alone DVD, and they are never seen on the box. Did she do something to provoke her cousins across the Atlantic to such a boycott, or is there perhaps a more explainable reason to do with copyright? Could it even be that there wouldn’t be much of a market for them? It’s true, some of her films are almost unwatchable today, not because of their technique, but their sentiment. Try watching The Poor Little Rich Girl, Heart of the Hills or Suds now without laughing, or even more so her most famous dual role, in Little Lord Fauntleroy. Better than all these are My Best Girl and Sparrows, two family gems of their day with much to interest any serious devotee of the silent movie art form. There’s no doubt, however, which is her best film, the only one which has any claims to being called a classic, and another in which she played two parts.
Set during World War I, Mary plays two contrasting characters; the eponymous Miss Maris, a cripple confined to her bed, to whom the real world is literally all fluffy bunnies, orchids, castles and towers. She’s loved by everyone, even warns those entering her ‘throne room’ to leave all misery outside the door. She also plays Unity, a feisty but unloved orphan who is adopted, she thinks, by a loving mother. It turns out that the woman only wanted her to do the housework for nothing, while she spends her days drinking heavily. What she doesn’t realise is that her husband, who has just walked out on her, is the beloved of the invalided Miss Maris. Fate, needless to say, will have their lives interlock for some time to come.
Coming as it did towards the end of the worst conflict in humanity’s history, the film seeks to preserve a morality that the allies were then fighting over. No moralistic cliché is left unturned, but the film is so skilfully made as to defy criticism. Even the title cards have a touch of the surreal, romantic poetry about them, such as when describing Stella’s room, where she “dwells serenely within a dream world, created by those who love her, unaware of sorrow, poverty or death.” There’s something hilariously tragic about the famous scene where, after her ability to walk is restored to her, Stella meets some beggars at the bottom of the garden and immediately returns to her aunt to matter-of-factly ask for a few grand to give them, as if they were the only people in despair in her beautiful world. In the hands of a lesser actress, or a lesser presence, than ‘America’s Sweetheart’, the role could have been enough to make you want to drown her, but you do find yourself liking her in spite of yourself. Even so, one is drawn more to the feisty tomboy, Unity, with the unplucked eyebrows and the funny walk, and her sacrifice at the altar of love is a moment guaranteed to make even the most hardened fellow feel a lump harden in his throat.
Technically, the film is certainly a wonder, with its use of double exposure no less impressive that that used decades later in the likes of The Prisoner of Zenda, while Walter Stradling’s photography is truly exquisite. It also showed the under-used talent of Mickey Neilan at its best, who could have been one of the greats had the bottle not got hold of him. It’s Pickford’s show, and Neilan shows her to best advantage in every scene, with particular emphasis on the sequence where Stella realises the harshness of the world. No-one could accuse it of changing cinema, or of advancing the art, but it is a perfect example of the sort of sentimental but beautiful fable that went out with the Ark.
A review brimming with enthusiasm and a film I can’t wait to see. Luckily this one IS on Netflix, so arrival is imminent – I’d say it will be at my doorstep by week’s end but I suspect some other titles will be knocking it off its perch before it has time to arrive. Still, will be seen soon.
Mr. Movie Man. It looks like you will have no time to sleep over the holidays!
On the contrary, Peter – as of tomorrow I am finished catching up with my to-see list, finished writing Examiner reviews for about a week, and suspending Netflix for a little while (though I admittedly do have a couple other things I’m working on before year’s end). By “imminent” I meant early to mid-January…which is imminent in my world!
I read of her countless times. The esteem Pickford has lavished on her here in the states is well known. Yet, as shameful as this sounds, I have never actually seen a single film of hers, to my knowledge. I agree with MovieMan here, your writing is beautifully enthusiastic and descriptive and it makes a reader really want to see what it is that has you waxing poetic. As I said before, I don’t really see this as a competitive count at all, actually more like a lengthy crash-course on an era so few of us have tried to tackle. I’m learning something new every day……
And that’s what I intended it to be, Dennis. It’s me with my missionary hat on for the only time.
I would have thought “Sparrows” to be her best film, but it’s clear you think otherwise. Interesting.