Movie Ushers
(Vanity Fair, 1916)
A word on movie ushers and those darn flash lights…
The Conde Nast cartoonist Ann Fish wanted her swank readers to know that she was another Brit who recognized the reoccurring formula that young Hollywood relied on all too often and even though the film business was still in it’s infancy, there was such a thing as a typical American movie.
Attached is a Vanity Fair cartoon from the days of silent film illustrating how unsophisticated those movies truly were and how wildly predictable the plots and characters always seemed to be. This cartoon, along with a number similar magazine articles on this site, illustrate that such thinking was not entirely rare.
Here are seven drawings by Henry Raleigh (1880 – 1944) that depict the sorts of silent film characters that were likely to be seen in the 1920s W.W. I movies. These sketches are accompanied by a few dry remarks by the Vanity Fair editors:
No matter how much we may wish to lose sight of the war, it can’t be done. There will always be reminders of it. You suppose that, just because a little thing like peace has been declared, the playwrights, the theatrical managers, and the moving picture producers are going to let a chance like the war get by? Since we have become accustomed to German spies, Red Cross nurse heroines, and motor corps vampires, we could never go back to the prosaic mildness of innocent little country heroines, villains in fur-lined overcoats and cub reporter heroes. No actor will ever again consent to play a society role in evening clothes with flap pockets and jet buttons, when he can appear in a war play wearing an aviator’s uniform and going around in a property airplane.
This 1918 silent movie was certainly mocked for its predictability…
As the rosy fingered dawn came upon America in 1913 it found Douglas Fairbanks, the man who would soon be Silent Hollywood’s fair haired boy, wowing the crowds on Broadway. The play, Hawthorne of the U.S.A., starred Fairbanks in the title roll and closed after 72 performances; he was also married to a woman who wasn’t named Pickford – but rather named Anna Beth Sully, who had sired his namesake. Life was good for the actor and he wouldn’t turn his gaze West for another two years. By contrast, his future bride, Mary Pickford (né Gladys Smith, 1892 – 1979) had been prancing before the cameras since 1909 and by the time 1913 rolled around had appeared in well-over 100 short films and earned the nickname Little Mary.
To be sure, the motion pictures that Hollywood produced during the late teens were very self-conscious, but they were beginning to develop smartness…
Los Angeles and its environs were crowded with new motion picture companies. The American Film Company, the Vitagraph Company, the Universal Company Christie Comedies and Selig found competitors springing up like weeds after rain: the demand for flickers was enjoying its first boom.
In the attached article, Metropolitan Opera diva Geraldine Farrar (1882 – 1967) relays her experiences as a film actress in The Hell Cat (1918) and The Turn of the Wheel (1918), and boldly declares that there is a big difference between acting in an opera and acting for the screen (who knew?).
There are a hundred intimate expressions of the eyes, the mouth, the hands, that can only be transmitted through the camera, and the strong and sometimes merciless light of the projection machine. And this is what the motion picture actress must clearly and everlastingly keep in mind: she is acting for an audience which is near enough to detect any insincerity of feeling or any sham in make-up.
Click here to read about physical perfection during the Golden Age of Hollywood.
To encourage the making and distributing of films that will promote faith in America, the Americanism Committee of the Motion Picture Industry was organized.
By 1921 the city of Los Angeles began to seriously grow, and the expansion was not simply due to the arrival of performers and extras and all manner of craftsmen that are required to launch a film production – but the city was also bringing in the sorts necessary to support a wealthy urban environment. Every thriving city needs a support system, and Hollywood imported tailors, milliners, chefs, architects and various other tastemakers who in turn attracted realtors, contractors, merchants and restauranteurs.
Strong arguments were put to verse by the popular song writer Howard Dietz (1896 – 1983) as to why the up-town theater crowd had it all wrong.
The picture theater is always dark
So things you throw won’t hit the mark.
The actor in the movie play
Can’t hear the things you often say.
The spoken drama’s always longer;
The movie hero’s always stronger.
Click here to read more comparisons between film and stage.
A Fool There Was was originally produced in 1915 starring Theda Bara in the vampire roll; but as the view of women changed in society, to say nothing of popular culture, the producers in the early Hollywood dream-factory decided to re-stage the production with a racier woman in the lead -a flapper-vampire, if you will. The reviewer was sympathetic as to the need for a new adaptation but pointed out that the actress who was re-cast in the Theda Bara roll, Estelle Taylor (1894 — 1958), left the audiences wanting. It was also pointed out that the censorship menace hangs heavy over ‘A Fool There Was’.
In 1919 Theda Bara wrote an article for VANITY FAIR MAGAZINE in which she swore off ever playing a vampire again; click here to read it.
Attached is a brief review of Civilization, the silent anti-war film produced by Thomas Ince in 1917. Sadly, Ince underestimated the power of film as a means of persuasion; World War I raged on for another year and a half following it’s release.
Attached is a decidedly pro Lilian Gish (1893 – 1993) article concerning the silent film actresses‘ meteoric rise under the direction of D.W. Griffith, her mediocrity when paired with other directors and her much appreciated march on Broadway.
Lilian Gish is the damozel of Arthurian legend, tendered in terms of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Her heroines perpetually hover in filtered half-lights, linger in attitudes of romantical despair. They forever drift farther from reality than the dream, and no matter how humble their actual origins, the actress invariably weaves them of the dusk-blues, the dawn-golds of medieval tapestries.
Click here if you would like to read an article in which Lillian Gish recalls her part in Birth of a Nation.
Click here to read articles about Marilyn Monroe.
Attached is a decidedly pro Lilian Gish (1893 – 1993) article concerning the silent film actresses‘ meteoric rise under the direction of D.W. Griffith, her mediocrity when paired with other directors and her much appreciated march on Broadway.
Lilian Gish is the damozel of Arthurian legend, tendered in terms of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Her heroines perpetually hover in filtered half-lights, linger in attitudes of romantical despair. They forever drift farther from reality than the dream, and no matter how humble their actual origins, the actress invariably weaves them of the dusk-blues, the dawn-golds of medieval tapestries.
Click here if you would like to read an article in which Lillian Gish recalls her part in Birth of a Nation.
Click here to read articles about Marilyn Monroe.
Attached is a small column that credited U.S. Representative Charles Hiram Randall (1865 – 1951) of Los Angeles for having proposed legislation before Congress that sought copyright protection for the benefit of scenario writers in Hollywood:
Congressional Randall [Prohibition Party] of California has introduced a bill in the House of Representatives for the protection of scenario authors, by providing for the issuance of a copyright on the scenario upon reciept of two typewritten copies to the proper department in Washington.
The attached is one from a series of articles that appeared in MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE penned by a Hollywood insider during the high-fashion days of silent film. The reader will be alarmed to read that even as early as 1916, plot-stealing and other forms of Hollywood plagiarism were in full swing.
A few weeks earlier, a California Representative had introduced an anti-plagiarism bill to Congress.
Click here to read about the Hollywood plagiarism game of 1935.
The attached article is about Sessue Hayakawa (1889 – 1973), the first Asian actor to achieve star status in Hollywood:
No, Sessue Hayakawa, the world’s most noted Japanese photoplay actor, does not dwell in a papier-mache house amid tea-cup scenery. He is working in pictures in Los Angeles, and he lives in a ‘regular’ bungalow, furnished in mission oak, and dresses very modishly according to American standards.
No doubt, this is one of the funniest pieces you are likely to find on the topic of acting and costuming in silent movies. It was written by Frederick Lewis Allen (1890 – 1954) and Frank Tuttle (1892-1963); both men approached the movies with the low expectations that were probably all too typical of theater lovers at that time. Frederick Lewis Allen is best remembered today as one of the better chroniclers of the Twenties and author of Only Yesterday (1931) while Frank Tuttle would find himself, in a few short years, directing movies in Hollywood. Tuttle was one of the few Directors who successfully made the jump from silent films to sound and continued working; at this writing, he was an Assistant Editor at Vanity Fair.