Bold Bank Robbery (Lubin, 1904)

Siegmund "Pop" Lubin is remembered today perhaps as one of Edison's chief rivals in the patent wars of the turns of the last century. Lubin was based in Philadelphia, and is all too often referred to in the history books only for his "remakes" (rip-offs) of popular Edison titles.

It's true that the Lubin company turned out some pretty audacious imitations (their version of "The Great Train Robbery", released a year after Edison's version), but along the way, Lubin turned out some pretty interesting films which deserve to be evaluated on their own terms.

One such picture is "Bold Bank Robbery", made in 1904 by Jack Frawley (who also wrote and shot the picture). The film begins a group of men enjoying a drink and a smoke, dressed in elaborate tuxedos and top hats. They are framed in a theatrical manner in front of a painted flat. What's remarkable is the sense of space that this single, flat backdrop provides. It's both highly theatrical yet also hints at the kind of screen space that more sophisticated sets would come to provide in the near future.

The gentlemen depart, and head out to their horse-drawn carriage waiting outside the club. We are immediately aware of the use of the actual exterior location compared to the interior shot we had just witnessed.

Arriving at a home, they don masks and change into burglar garb, then head out to meet a car parked out front waiting for them. They are driven down to an embankment, where they proceed to tie up their driver and dump him in a ravine. The rest of the group drives off to the bank (another painted set), where they knock out the teller and proceed to blow up the vault, making off with bags of money and make their getaway in the car.

Meanwhile, a couple stumbles upon the bound body of the driver, laying on the side of the road. Telling them what has happened, the police are called, who track the robbers down to the home they are meeting in. A rooftop chase ensues, leading through the streets, through a lake, on a streetcar, and even on to a train. The police miss catching the last robber as he rides off on the train, so they have the station agent wire ahead to the next stop, where two officers wait for the robber to get off the train, whereupon he is placed under arrest. Finally, we see the three robbers serving time in a prison, working on a chain gang.

This ten minute film includes a tremendous amount of action. There are numerous chase scenes, and the final business, with the last robber being pursued through the streets, on the train, etc. is a remarkable bit of action staging. The exciting outdoor visuals contrast nicely with the painted flats of the interiors.

There are, of course, inevitable comparisons to be made to Edison's "The Great Train Robbery" and to Frank S. Mottershaw's "Daring Daylight Burglary" (produced by Charles Urban), both from 1903. Even the title is reminiscent of the latter film, and the staging of the action recalls Edison's "Great Train Robbery" in the bank scenes, and also the final chase with the law pursuing the criminals. Lubin's films may not have been the most original in their content or innovative in their style, but "Bold Bank Robbery" remains an exciting film in its own right, with some interesting location changes and, in a few instances, above-average production design.

Hollywood 2010: A Century of Hollywood Cinema

2010 is the 100th anniversary of filmmaking in the town that, more than any other single place, person or event, has come to represent the medium of film.

I am writing a research paper looking at the critical and public response to Cecil B. DeMille's "The Cheat", which I am writing for Dan Streible's Film History/Film Historiography course. I am gearing my research toward the early years of Hollywood, and specifically looking at the career of Cecil B. DeMille as it relates to the development of the film community in Hollywood. By focusing this first paper on "The Cheat", I hope to establish not just its high reputation in its own country, but the influence it had on film makers around the world.

The history of film in Los Angeles goes back a bit further than 1910, of course. As early as 1898, a short actualitie piece was shot right on Spring Street by the Edison company. Films were being shot in Los Angeles by 1907.



But the move to Hollywood, at the time a very small, rural village with a strong religious foundation, signified the development of a movie capitol for American production, which took hold by the end of the 1910s, as more and more companies from the East moved Westward in search of new locations, among other reasons. Film grew out of its infancy during the Nickelodeon era (roughly 1905-1912), as new film makers found new ways of expanding the expressive and dramatic capabilities of a medium that, just twenty years earlier, was barely a reality. Griffith, Sennett, Ince, and of course DeMille contributed mightily to this transition of film from a late-19th century technology to a 20th century art form.

Tunneling the English Channel (1907)

One of Georges Melies' most prophetic of his pseudo-science fiction efforts, "Tunneling the English Channel" is a delightful combination of political satire and fantasy.

Made in 1907, the film is presented in a lavishly hand-colored print (although the print used for the recent "Melies: First Wizard of Cinema" collection begins with a rather rough, black and white copy and switches to a pristine, hand-colored source about halfway through. This was presumably pieced together from the best surviving elements). The films begins with a sort of split-screen set up, featuring the King of England and the President of France getting ready for bed. As they dream, visions of the building of the tunnel underneath the English channel play out. We see the construction of the tunnel on both the English and French sides, as well as the celebrations following the successful completion of the project. However, their dream turns to a nightmare when disaster strikes as two trains collide in the tunnel, waking both the King and the President from their dream. At this very moment, an engineer comes to see both men with plans to build a channel tunnel, and both leaders forcibly eject him from the scene!

Delightfully stylized moments occur throughout. The set representing the channel tunnel is very elaborate, with sand and silt underneath the tunnel, and the sea itself above, in which we see various submarines, fish, and other aquatic creatures moving about. Melies packs an incredible amount of visual detail into every frame.

Melies' fascination with industry and technology is present throughout. In Melies' narration, written to accompany the film, he goes in to great detail on the scientific and technological details of the construction. In his book "Flickers: A Century of Cinema" (1995), British critic Gilbert Adair notes that, technically speaking, "Tunneling the English Channel" offers a more daring vision of the future than Melies' more famous film, "A Trip to the Moon", in that-while travel to the moon became a reality 67 years after that film's release, the Chunnel did not become a reality until 88 years after the release of this film.

The ending of the film, with both leaders soured on the idea of a tunnel because of their nightmare, leads to a perfect comic close to the whole film. There are some moments of fun political satire throughout, such as the moment when the leaders' respective footmen mock their pompous march in a celebratory parade.

A delightful film on all counts, this lesser-seen Melies title deserves its place among his best work. It is available as part of the "Melies: First Wizard of Cinema" DVD set, available from Flicker Alley, which includes 173 of the cinematic magician's films in pristine copies with the original hand-coloring and narration intact.

Rough Sea at Dover (1895)

There is something strangely haunting about this short (very short) actualitie piece shot by Birt Acres and R.W. Paul in what must have been one of their earliest efforts. It provides an interesting contrast to Edison's films in terms of the use of a location. Whereas Edison preferred to showcase a performer, making location a secondary issue of concern strictly for practical purposes, Acres and Paul showcase the sea as a subject in itself.

Shot on an apparently stormy, dour day at a pier at Dover, the filmmakers capture the raw energy made possible by the scope of the subject (the sea would return as a favorite subject for many future films, and its continual movement still possesses a hypnotic quality and a strangely cinematic element, which Griffith used to such good advantage when he shot his first film on the shores of Santa Monica beach nearly 15 years later).

The film also differs from the Edison approach in its use of two shots, one a full view of the pier, and the second a medium shot, taken a little closer to provide a greater detailed view of the waves.

Unfortunately, the surviving print (featured on Kino's "The Movies Begin" DVD set for those interested in seeing it) is in pretty rough condition itself. It would serve as a nice reminder to DVD producers that perhaps another set is in order, consisting of more of these early pioneering efforts from around the world, in order to shed some light on lesser-seen films by people like Acres and Paul.

Caceido with Pole (1894)

On the excellent Kino/MoMA Thomas Edison set, there is a fascinating little film that I've been tempted to write briefly about for some time now.

Titled "Caceido with Pole", and dating from 1894, the film is remarkable for being the first Edison film shot outdoors of the Black Maria. There is something strangely enticing about the film for this reason alone. Without further research, I can't be sure where the film was photographed, precisely, though it was almost certainly either right outside of the Edison lab, or in a very nearby location to Orange, New Jersey.

In many ways, the subject matter and presentation are no different from the countless other early Edison shorts, depicting popular vaudeville and show business figures performing a condensed version of their act before the static Kinetograph. Yet there is something undeniably vibrant, fresh and even cinematic about the performance of Juan Caceido as he performs elaborate leaps and somersaults on a wire.

For some reason, I find this short strip of celluloid both very exciting and also hilariously funny. The "outdoor" location plays a part in both. It's exciting to watch the elaborate tricks of the performance, of course, but it's also fun to see W.K.L. Dickson and William Heise, the film makers, discover the cinematic qualities of shooting outdoors in a natural location. The location in the case appears to be someone's backyard, with a tall wooden fence and a neighboring house visible in the background. This brings me to the part which I find so utterly hilarious-the idea of such a fantastic performance being recorded by the cinematic medium, then in the earliest stages of its infancy, against such a seemingly "normal" backdrop.

Edison films like this one are, of course, also a great reminder of the tremendously diverse kinds of entertainment audiences had available to them at the turn of the last century. Watching Juan Caceido seemingly effortlessly bouncing off the wire, while keeping his balance with a pole, and performing complex somersaults, is a spectacle to see. One can only imagine what other spectators must have thought.

Above all, it's a fun reminder of the joy, energy and even cinematic fervor that can be found in even a little film like this. Dickson undoubtedly shot the film outdoors for purely practical reasons (the act was too complex to shoot inside the Black Maria's confined space). Yet, whether or not he fully realized it, he was tapping in to the same kind of effects that "real" locations provide which Louis Lumiere would really take to new heights the following year (the moving leaves in the background of "August Lumiere and Baby" from 1895 captured audiences' attention as much as any of the staged foreground action).

While "Caceido with Pole" is hardly a groundbreaking film in any real sense, it nevertheless presents, for perhaps the first time in the American cinema, the qualities of outdoor shooting that countless directors have explored since.

Yoo Hoo Mrs. Goldberg (Aviva Kempner, 2009)

Yoo Hoo Mrs. Goldberg, a new documentary by Aviva Kempner, above all serves as a reminder of the importance of recorded media in preserving the American pop culture.

While TV programs such as I Love Lucy and The Honeymooners are still known and watched by audiences around the world every day, Gertrude Berg's pioneering situation comedy, The Goldbergs, has largely been forgotten by the public. Kempner's documentary explores the history behind Berg's landmark series. Berg's characters were a Jewish family, presented in a straightforward and matter-of-fact light.

Berg (1899-1966) began her career writing and recording commercials on radio. She launched her show "The Goldbergs" in 1929, which ran on the radio throughout the next twenty years before making the transition to television, as so many radio programs did. In the 1950s, however, the show was torn apart by changing tastes in humor, as well as the blacklisting of actor Philip Loeb, whose eventual resignation from the show left a void that was never to be filled.

Kempner does a good job of recording the memories of listeners (and later, viewers) who grew up on the show, including Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Ed Asner. It's astounding to think of the popularity of the program in its time, and how few people are even aware of it today. Berg, a media pioneer, is nearly forgotten today when compared with Lucille Ball, say. In excerpts from a "Person to Person" interview with Edward R. Murrow, we see the absolute all-consuming devotion that Berg brought to her show (writing nearly a script a day!)

The documentary indirectly stresses the importance of preserving recorded media. The Kinescope recordings of the TV's early years are a reminder of how much has been lost to time, and even that which survives is often in less-than pristine condition. Kempner has done a good service to Berg's legacy, helping to keep her work in the public consciousness and emphasizing Berg's innovation and contributions to early television.

R.I.P. Karl Malden (1912-2009)

This has certainly been a sad week for the passing of a number of celebrities, but I felt that, appropriate to this blog, I should mention that Karl Malden, former President of the Academy, passed away today (July 1, 2009).

Malden had a long career in films, dating back to the 1940. His first significant role was in director Elia Kazan's drama, "Boomerang!" in 1947, and he subsequently turned in perhaps the finest performance of his career in the same director's "On the Waterfront" in 1954. Also for Kazan, Malden turned in excellent performances in "A Streetcar Named Desire", and another Tennessee Williams adaptation, "Baby Doll" (1956), a controversial classic. One of his most underrated performances came in 1953, in Alfred Hitchcock's neglected masterpiece, "I Confess". Other memorable films include "Fear Strikes Out" (1957), "Birdman of Alcatraz" (1962), John Ford's "Cheyenne Autumn" (1964), "Patton" (1970), and MGM's all-star Western epic, "How the West Was Won". On TV, he was best known for his role as Detective Lt. Mike Stone on "The Streets of San Francisco".

The Haunted World of Edward D. Wood Jr. (1996)

This 1996 documentary remains perhaps the most thorough look at the man who came to earn the reputation as the "worst director of all time". It focuses a great deal on his failures, which is also a big part of the problem I have with it.

The film consists of interviews with a number of Wood's friends and collaborators, beginning with Crawford John Thomas. Thomas and Wood set up a commercial production company in Hollywood in 1947, the year they both arrived there. Interviews with Thomas lead in to some rare behind the scenes footage of Wood directing a 16mm Western short with future collaborator Conrad Brooks, who produced the short film with his brother to serve as an acting demo reel. The footage shows Wood, impeccably dressed in a sports coat with his Errol Flynn mustache, enthusiastically directing the scene.

We next see outtakes from an unfinished early short, "Crossroads of Laredo", which Wood produced in 1948, ostensibly to sell to television, although it's hard to imagine the film, which essentially amounts to a home movie, being shown on TV at all.

The major Wood films are addressed individually, with comments from a whole host of collaborators, including makeup man Harry Thomas, actors Conrad Brooks, Lyle Talbot, Paul Marco and Gregory Walcott, even Rev. Lynn Lemon (who produced "Plan 9 From Outer Space". There are also comments from Vampira, one of the key members of Wood's cinematic entourage, as well as actresses Dolores Fuller and Loretta King. Bela Lugosi Jr. has very little positive to say about his father's work with Wood, whom he sees as a "user and a loser". This may seem rather harsh, since by most accounts Wood and Lugosi shared a deep friendship, and Wood did provide Lugosi with work, even if it was below the standards of his best work.

The problem I have with the documentary is that it focuses too much on Wood's failures. While his career in the movie business could hardly be labeled "successful" by any conventional definition, the simple fact is that Wood succeeded where so many have failed; namely, in actually making his films.

I'd like to see a serious, non-ironic study of Wood's contribution to independent filmmaking. Not that I would encourage some sort of postmodern view that elevates Wood to "auteur" status on the basis of effort alone, mind. However, as has been pointed out, Wood made very well have been the first horror/science fiction filmmaker who actively loved the earlier serials and B-movies of his youth, and who sought to recreate some of their spirit and energy. Considering that his films still hold up as entertaining more than half a century after their creation, I think it's fair to say that he succeeded in terms of entertainment value, even if the production values and technical craftsmanship are genuinely subpar. It should be noted, though, that when given a half-decent budget, as he was with 1955's "Bride of the Monster", the results are actually quite good. "Plan 9 From Outer Space" is justifiably recognized as a poorly-crafted piece of filmmaking, but one has to consider the extreme difficulties Wood faced in just getting it finished at all. And there's still no denying that Wood populated his films with memorable characters that are rather unlike anything else in Hollywood cinema of the time.

The documentary does skirt over Wood's final years, jumping from the completion of "Plan 9" to his death in 1978 in a superficially brief amount of time. Granted, the details of Wood's final years are not necessarily the kind that one would want to dwell on in a biography, but he did produce a prolific amount of work in that period which should not be ignored.

This documentary can be purchased as part of the "Ed Wood Box", a DVD set which features his major films (plus a recently-restored film "Night of the Ghouls", which Wood completed in 1959 just after shooting "Plan 9", but which he was unable to release as he never had sufficient funds to have the negative developed. The film was restored in 1983 by Wade Williams.)