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Bird's Eye and an Easter mouse
22 March 2008 11:25 amfound the London Bird’s Eye View festival (of films by female comics/directors/scriptwriters with female musical accompaniment) rather disappointing, I’m afraid. I don’t know how much if that was my rather jaundiced emotional state at the time, how much due to the fact that I don’t really get on with screwball comedy, and how much down to the inexperience of the female accompanists; poor Mary Pickford probably fared the worst, having her polished but somewhat formulaic late comedy "My Best Girl" severely sabotaged by a mosquito-buzz/droning accompaniment from a modernistic string group. It might have worked for an expressionistic tragedy, but entertaining it was not.
But then to be honest I wasn’t terribly impressed by the two piano accompaniments from an experienced female silent film player; they were competent, she clearly knew what she was doing, but didn’t strike on my part any spark. And the films didn’t catch light either: "Show People" is doubtless much funnier if you know more about the Hollywood characters of the era (I didn’t recognise anybody but Douglas Fairbanks in that apparently-famous pan across the acting talent at the high table — and only identified him by the tan!), and while "The Love Expert" is technically very accomplished for its era, I found the heroine positively annoying. (To be honest I was mainly interested in the first place in the Keaton family connection: so this is the sort of thing Connie was up to while Arbuckle and his young assistant were busy making too much noise in their shared studios, back in New York; and this is Natalie in one of her few screen roles supporting her sister. Poor Natalie. She really isn’t as talented or as attractive as her little sister, is she..?)
The night I probably enjoyed the most was the performance featuring Gloria Swanson in "The Danger Girl", an incoherent madcap Sennett comedy, and Ossi Oswalda in the early Lubitsch film "Ich mochte kein Mann sein". Neither of the films is especially polished, but it was the musical accompaniment that made them both memorable and funny; in other circumstances they might well have been a complete drag, but with sympathetic music they were genuine laughing material. Which makes me wonder about the others.
"The Danger Girl" got a close-harmony accompaniment from a vocal group, partly sung (some of the on-screen text), partly nonsense syllables, and partly oral sound effects, i.e. a speeding car approaching, a galloping horse, etc — and if that sounds bizarre, it was! At least half the laughs of the film were probably provided by the vocalists rather than the somewhat confused onscreen action, and at times they actually helped to clarify what was supposed to be going on; a happy blend of nonsense for a very non-serious film.
The Lubitsch got a more traditional accompaniment from a female jazz pianist, who was presumably accustomed to improvising — I actually enjoyed her approach more than that of the official silent film composer and pianist, although to be fair she didn’t have to provide nearly so much material, since this film is very short (only three reels). Again the film itself is no very great shakes (and certainly far less sophisticated than, say, "My Best Girl" from ten years later) but the total experience was uncomplicated good fun.
One of the cats brought in a mouse from the garden to the kitchen today; I should have been suspicious of his very subdued mew outside the door, but I let him come into the room and of course he shot straight up the stairs to play with the beast in comfort. One biff knocked it down a whole flight, at which point we discovered that it was still alive and tried to pick it up — the mouse, being terrified and no fool, decided that it didn’t want to be attacked by an even larger predator, inflicted a nasty bite and shot under a bookcase and through a hole under some pipes to take up residence under the floor. Where it still is, so far as I know, and will probably remain until it dies of starvation or finds a way back out into the bitter wind. The last one turned up dead months later when the smell became too unpleasant. I do wish the cats would kill their food first and play with it afterwards...
But then to be honest I wasn’t terribly impressed by the two piano accompaniments from an experienced female silent film player; they were competent, she clearly knew what she was doing, but didn’t strike on my part any spark. And the films didn’t catch light either: "Show People" is doubtless much funnier if you know more about the Hollywood characters of the era (I didn’t recognise anybody but Douglas Fairbanks in that apparently-famous pan across the acting talent at the high table — and only identified him by the tan!), and while "The Love Expert" is technically very accomplished for its era, I found the heroine positively annoying. (To be honest I was mainly interested in the first place in the Keaton family connection: so this is the sort of thing Connie was up to while Arbuckle and his young assistant were busy making too much noise in their shared studios, back in New York; and this is Natalie in one of her few screen roles supporting her sister. Poor Natalie. She really isn’t as talented or as attractive as her little sister, is she..?)
The night I probably enjoyed the most was the performance featuring Gloria Swanson in "The Danger Girl", an incoherent madcap Sennett comedy, and Ossi Oswalda in the early Lubitsch film "Ich mochte kein Mann sein". Neither of the films is especially polished, but it was the musical accompaniment that made them both memorable and funny; in other circumstances they might well have been a complete drag, but with sympathetic music they were genuine laughing material. Which makes me wonder about the others.
"The Danger Girl" got a close-harmony accompaniment from a vocal group, partly sung (some of the on-screen text), partly nonsense syllables, and partly oral sound effects, i.e. a speeding car approaching, a galloping horse, etc — and if that sounds bizarre, it was! At least half the laughs of the film were probably provided by the vocalists rather than the somewhat confused onscreen action, and at times they actually helped to clarify what was supposed to be going on; a happy blend of nonsense for a very non-serious film.
The Lubitsch got a more traditional accompaniment from a female jazz pianist, who was presumably accustomed to improvising — I actually enjoyed her approach more than that of the official silent film composer and pianist, although to be fair she didn’t have to provide nearly so much material, since this film is very short (only three reels). Again the film itself is no very great shakes (and certainly far less sophisticated than, say, "My Best Girl" from ten years later) but the total experience was uncomplicated good fun.
One of the cats brought in a mouse from the garden to the kitchen today; I should have been suspicious of his very subdued mew outside the door, but I let him come into the room and of course he shot straight up the stairs to play with the beast in comfort. One biff knocked it down a whole flight, at which point we discovered that it was still alive and tried to pick it up — the mouse, being terrified and no fool, decided that it didn’t want to be attacked by an even larger predator, inflicted a nasty bite and shot under a bookcase and through a hole under some pipes to take up residence under the floor. Where it still is, so far as I know, and will probably remain until it dies of starvation or finds a way back out into the bitter wind. The last one turned up dead months later when the smell became too unpleasant. I do wish the cats would kill their food first and play with it afterwards...
