Tweet Gallery of Mastheads

[silentfilm]

I think that Mr. Brownlow himself should be the masthead for November.

[Mike Gebert]

Well, I have a 90th birthday of someone still living planned for next month (I'm sure some will figure that out quickly, and no, not the lady already discussed), and I have a Halloween image set for October. Besides, Veidt already appeared in a masthead, as did Chaney (though I have a great, ironic Browning-Chaney shot I'll have to run someday).

But if someone has a cool Kevin Brownlow shot, send it along, I'm all for honoring historians and such too (same applies if you have party pics of, I don't know, Jay Leyda, Lewis Jacobs, whomever)...

For what it's worth, here's my nomination for friendlier Masthead in September:

THE EYES! THE EYES! Not another masthead that watches me! NOOOOOO!!

It would make a change of pace to have some one who's not dead up there.

Bob

It would make a change of pace to have some one who's not dead up there.

Bob

Silent film stars are not dead. They will never die! Their pictures will live on forever!!!

As for MMM, I've always felt one (just one of many) of the key differences between her and Mary Pickford was that MMM clearly knew what f***ing was all about, and was more than willing to skip into the bedroom with you right now. Just look at the knowingness in her eyes, and the "Let's f**k !" expression on her face in the masthead.

Conrad, on the other hand, appears to be slowly and menacingly whispering, "What ees thees ... effing ... zat choo talk ... about ... Fraulein Minter?" as the knife slides down his sleeve into his grip.

Jim

It would make a change of pace to have some one who's not dead up there.

Bob

Mike,
I got a bunch of pics of Miriam Seegar if you need 'em.

It would make a change of pace to have some one who's not dead up there.

Bob

Silent film stars are not dead. They will never die! Their pictures will live on forever!!!

Jim

No, they're dead. They're really most sincerely dead.

It would make a change of pace to have some one who's not dead up there.

Bob

Silent film stars are not dead. They will never die! Their pictures will live on forever!!!

Jim

No, they're dead. They're really most sincerely dead.

Are You trying to say that Conrad Veidt is dead? When did THAT happen? Next you'll say that George Arliss is dead too. Actually, I'd guess all of us have had the question raised from our "non-film buff" friends over how can we watch movies where everybody is dead. I have responded by pointing out that they were very much alive when the movie was made. This inescapable logic usually disarms the question, and I try to point out that on film, at least, everybody is equally alive.

No, they're dead. They're really most sincerely dead.

Are You trying to say that Conrad Veidt is dead? When did THAT happen? Next you'll say that George Arliss is dead too. Actually, I'd guess all of us have had the question raised from our "non-film buff" friends over how can we watch movies where everybody is dead. I have responded by pointing out that they were very much alive when the movie was made. This inescapable logic usually disarms the question, and I try to point out that on film, at least, everybody is equally alive.

Veidt? Dead. Arliss? Dead. And the live people making films today will eventually all be dead. Me too. You too. Dead.

Dammit, just tripped over my scythe.

Well, I certainly hope that Michael Mann will be dead some day. His pictures are. Like mackerels in the moonlight.

Bob

No, they're dead. They're really most sincerely dead.

Are You trying to say that Conrad Veidt is dead? When did THAT happen? Next you'll say that George Arliss is dead too. Actually, I'd guess all of us have had the question raised from our "non-film buff" friends over how can we watch movies where everybody is dead. I have responded by pointing out that they were very much alive when the movie was made. This inescapable logic usually disarms the question, and I try to point out that on film, at least, everybody is equally alive.

Veidt? Dead. Arliss? Dead. And the live people making films today will eventually all be dead. Me too. You too. Dead.

Dammit, just tripped over my scythe.

Speak for yourself. Me, I've got secret plans for eternal life. Let's see, I think I filed them right next to my secret plans for world domination...

Jim

Speak for yourself. Me, I've got secret plans for eternal life. Let's see, I think I filed them right next to my secret plans for world domination...

Jim

I like to steal Woody Allen's quote from time to time:

"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work.
I want to achieve immortality by not dying."

[Mike Gebert]

Well, as noted above, September marks not only a 90th birthday of someone who now probably ranks as having the longest star career ever, but also, of our first still-living masthead honoree: Mickey Rooney. [CORRECTION: D'oh! I forgot about Baby Peggy]



From his lecherous midget in Colleen Moore's Orchids and Ermine in 1927 to at least A Night at the Museum in 2006 is 79 years, and it looks like he's got some titles still to come. He had his own short series as Mickey McGuire at 7, was young Clark Gable in Manhattan Melodrama at 14, Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Boys Town's toughest nut to crack, Tom Edison and Huckleberry Finn and, of course, Andy Hardy. Hard now to see why America in the 30s and 40s saw him-- short and bursting with showbiz energy-- as the image of ordinary American youth, but they did, and he was very fine in The Human Comedy, National Velvet, and the other peak titles of his star period. After that it's been one of those hang-in-there careers, with everything from gangsters to his infamous bucktoothed Jap in Breakfast at Tiffany's, but The Black Stallion was at least a fitting capper to his career... though it's now almost in the middle.

And, of course, this masthead honors his co-star in many of those MGM movies of the early 40s, Judy Garland, as well. Her best films are not those in which she supports him, but there's still sweetness and charm in the films they made together, transcending the corporate sentimentality of MGM in the Mayer era.

From his lecherous midget in Colleen Moore's Orchids and Ermine in 1927 to at least A Night at the Museum in 2006 is 79 years, and it looks like he's got some titles still to come. He had his own short series as Mickey McGuire at 7, was young Clark Gable in Manhattan Melodrama at 14, Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Boys Town's toughest nut to crack, Tom Edison and Huckleberry Finn and, of course, Andy Hardy. Hard now to see why America in the 30s and 40s saw him-- short and bursting with showbiz energy-- as the image of ordinary American youth, but they did, and he was very fine in The Human Comedy, National Velvet, and the other peak titles of his star period. After that it's been one of those hang-in-there careers, with everything from gangsters to his infamous bucktoothed Jap in Breakfast at Tiffany's, but The Black Stallion was at least a fitting capper to his career... though it's now almost in the middle.

And, of course, this masthead honors his co-star in many of those MGM movies of the early 40s, Judy Garland, as well. Her best films are not those in which she supports him, but there's still sweetness and charm in the films they made together, transcending the corporate sentimentality of MGM in the Mayer era.

But could he win a staring contest with Mary Miles Minter?

So far it's a draw.

But could he win a staring contest with Mary Miles Minter?

So far it's a draw.

A hungover Mickey Rooney vs. a come-hither MMM? No contest, man. No contest at all.


Jim

He's not hung over. He's thinking about Norma Shearer.

Bob

[Mike Gebert]

By the way, Greenbriar Picture Shows has an interesting piece on an MGM star vehicle that fell apart, Summer Holiday.

Norma Shearer? Looks more like effects of "ice cream headache" to me.

Ben Affleck is dead. Unfortunately that doesn't stop him from making pictures.

I've never been a big fan of Garland or Rooney (although their teaming in the Andy Hardy films is effective) but I recently came across a half hour radio broadcast "live" from Hollywood & Vine of the 1940 Hollywood Christmas Parade. The coverage seems ad lib and zeroes in a float with Mick & Judy. They make a series of off the cuff comments to the radio audience in describing the parade and respond to comments and questions from passers-by. What caught my attention is that, unscripted as this event is, both teenagers are quite articulate and very well-mannered. Sure they were on their best behavior but somebody taught them manners!

[Mike Gebert]

Not that I'm prepared to accept Halloween being a mere 31 days away, with all that implies about winter, but here's our first son of a previous masthead and the makeup artist who did such indelible work on the Universal horrors, Jack Pierce. The picture comes courtesy of this Greenbriar Picture Shows piece on Chaney's later days publicizing low-grade horrors at Texas carnivals and the like. As for Pierce, he was regarded as a pretty tough character on the lot, but I think you see Boris Karloff's genuine regard for him in this clip.

Nice selection!

shave and a hair cut, 2 bits

Pierce has that 'monsters lead such interesting lives' look on his face while Chaney is worrying about whether this perm is going to turn out well.

Bob

[Mike Gebert]

Pierce has that 'monsters lead such interesting lives' look on his face

Snort!

Pierce really does look like Floyd the Barber.

[Mike Gebert]

"Hmmmmm, comin' in a little thick this full moon, Aaandeee..."

Pierce really does look like Floyd the Barber.

Yes, but Lon's/the Wolfman's expression suggests that it's Chico and Harpo doing the barbering: "Atsa fine boss, just one more little shnoop."

And to continue last month's theme, it's Napolean Bunny-Parte!

Bob

[Mike Gebert]

The suggestion was made above, and I couldn't agree more, that we honor Kevin Brownlow on the occasion of his well-deserved special Oscar for a lifetime of film history research. But it's one thing to make the suggestion, and another to find a decent photo of someone usually on the other end of the lens. So in the end, to make something that met the masthead's customary standards of image quality, I decided to bring in a bit of the flavor of the movies he loved so much— Albert Dieudonne looking typically stormy and intense in the film Brownlow is most associated with rediscovering and championing, Abel Gance's 1926 Napoleon.

But Brownlow's work goes far beyond that one film and its orchestral tour now almost three decades ago. If William K. Everson (whom the masthead honored last year) was the great historian of the Late Late Show era of film appreciation, Brownlow was the great one for the movie movie generation— not the first to interview crotchety old directors by any means (Peter Bogdanovich and the Cahiers crowd preceded him there) but certainly the one who took the most advantage of the fast-vanishing memories of the silent era to try to get primary accounts down while you still could. The result was, first, three books which rewrote how we looked at the era— The Parade's Gone By, The War, The West and the Wilderness, and Behind the Mask of Innocence. And then it was a series of TV documentaries which went beyond the usual nostalgic clip jobs of the era to conduct original research on early film in public— Hollywood, Unknown Chaplin, Cinema Europe and others. And that's not even to go into the Channel Four/Thames Silents, It Happened Here and Winstanley, and more. Thank you, Mr. Brownlow, for all you have done, and all we do because we read and watched your work.