Dir - Alla Nazimova/Charles Bryant
Overall: GOOD
Oscar Wilde's 1891 stage play Salomé was adapted for the screen by the husband/wife team of Alla Nazimova and Charles Bryant, who take an experimental approach to the material that resulted in one of the earliest arthouse movies. The last film to be directed by either as it was independently made and a box office failure upon release, Nazimova also portrays the title character who was the Jewish princess responsible for the beheading of John the Baptist during the Herodian Dynasty in the New Testament. Striking and quirky stylistic choices enhance the bare-bones narrative which seems to unfold in real time. Similar to the 1911 Italian film L'Inverno which brought Gustave Doré's Divine Comedy engravings to life, the production visually recreates Aubrey Beardsley's illustrations from a printed edition of Wilde's source material, with sparse yet odd decor, costumes, and cutaways to an artificial moon all creating an off-kilter aesthetic. Even by silent era standards, the performances are deliberate and exaggerated, plus most of the running time has everyone barely moving and repeating the same dialog over and over again, but it remains hypnotic and eye-catching because of such curious stylistic choices.
WOLF BLOOD
(1925)
Dir - George Chesebro/Bruce Mitchell
Overall: WOOF
There is sadly no level of historical curiosity that justifies any viewing of what is considered to be the earliest surviving werewolf film Wolf Blood, (Wolfblood: A Tale of the Forest). First of all, (which cannot be stressed enough), there is no werewolf, but there are a small handful of shots of actual wolves if that counts as something, (it does not). Not only is there literally not a single shot of one in silhouette form even, but the main character ultimately does not even succumb to lycanthopy as the last act vaguely alludes to. Instead, all that happens is a jealous doctor telling a guy that he gave him a blood transfusion from a wolf so he would go crazy since his fiance was falling for him. Secondly, the bulk of the movie's narrative could not be more atrociously boring or dated as it pussyfoots around a lame romance and rivalry between two competing logging companies. So in other words, exciting stuff. By the time that even the most bare bones superstitious ideas are introduced, hardly any viewer could be expected to still be invested. This is a piece of relic celluloid with no payoff that should logically be left forgotten to time.
THE MAN WHO LAUGHS
(1928)
Dir - Paul Leni
Overall: GOOD
The third film directed by Paul Leni for Universal, (though the second to still exist as 1927's The Chinese Parrot is considered lost), The Man Who Laughs had an influence over future horror films if not being a horror film on its own merit. Well, it is also famous for inspiring in part the creation of DCs The Joker, with all three of the character's creators giving credit to a photograph of Conrad Veidt for providing them something to base the Clown Prince of Crime's trademark, exaggerated grin off of. In fact it is Veidt's performance that acts as the movie's saving grace. Having appeared in a number of landmark German horror films, Veidt excels in a role here that was originally planned for Lon Chaney, utilizing his eyes for all of the emotion needed to make him the primary focus. Adapting another of Victor Hugo's novels after the success of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, (which likewise was a historical melodrama as opposed to a horror movie), Universal's soon to be maverick make-up man Jack Pierce was responsible for the title character's unsettling deformity. Said design is actually given a more subtle look than the artist's future work, let alone the more elaborate make-ups of the studio's then current top billed Man of 1,000 Faces in Mr. Chaney.