Tweet Does Anyone Have the Murnau/Borzage? [reviews]

You might be able to get it from Mark Malkames. Last I heard he was still living in New Mexico, but I do not have coontact into.

[Mike Gebert]

Well, as you can see by the time elapsed since the last post on Song O' My Heart, my intention of watching the Borzage talkies straight through got somewhat... waylaid. Fact is, two tries at watching Liliom had ended in finding something else that needed to be done that night. But I watched Man's Castle the other night, and that convinced me that it was time to finally get through the film it owes a great deal to, Liliom.

I've seen four versions of Liliom at one time or another, counting a road show of Gordon McRae in Carousel when I was about 10, and the only one that really makes psychological sense to me is Fritz Lang's, with Charles Boyer. Carousel works fairly well because it's obvious that carny Billy Bigelow is a stand-in for all the war dead who never saw their kids grow up, but it's still hard not to find Billy self-indulgent for getting himself into a situation where he can't help dying, and then singing about it. Only Boyer captures Brandoesque psychological depths and confusion that make Liliom comprehensible as a figure full of self-loathing and low esteem, who mistreats his girl to build himself up and then hates himself for it. Lang's version works as therapy that finally helps Liliom understand himself, so he, in turn, can finally be of use to his wife and daughter.

And then there's Charles Farrell, in a mustache that makes him look 14 and giving a performance that suggests Charley Chase trying to play Stanley Kowalski. Farrell's own callowness, used effectively elsewhere (eg The River), only exacerbates every way in which we find Liliom a lazy bum and slacker, while making him seem too juvenile for his swagger to seem at all magnetic, let alone suggestive of inner depths and torment as with Boyer.

And this being 1930, though the film is technically well-made (and the print is absolutely gorgeous), it is very much filmed theater, with characters appearing at doorways just when they're needed to deliver a line that underlines the preceding scene, and a general feeling of dead air despite the imaginativeness of the studio backdrops. Dead air extends to Rose Hobart's performance, which is heartfelt by her, but too monotonously downbeat to really earn our empathy. What makes it worth watching— and it is worth watching— is the visuals; though the middle set in a surprisingly modernist home is a bit drab, the first act set mostly in the carnival is vivid and picturesque, and the last act, set in the afterlife, makes little sense in this version but is certainly like nothing else you've seen, except maybe The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T.

* * *



Well, we all know that Lang took another crack at Liliom just four years later; his version is much more poetic-realist than Borzage's Expressionist-tinged one, leading someone to observe, pretty accurately, that "Lang made the Borzage version of Liliom, and Borzage made the Lang version."

But as far as I'm concerned, Borzage too took another crack at it just three years after Liliom (1930)— or at least, he remade the earthbound parts of it that didn't work. Man's Castle has no supernatural elements in it, and the Liliom figure (Spencer Tracy) doesn't die, but otherwise the plot is virtually identical: a poor, lonely girl falls head over heels for a swaggering layabout type who seems, from the outside, to use and mistreat her. But her love sees past his cloddish behavior and fulfills her so completely that for her, the domestic life she makes with him is bliss. Then the day comes that a baby is on the way and the man gets mixed up with an untrustworthy friend in a robbery to provide money for wife and baby...

Casting makes all the difference and Spencer Tracy as the Liliom figure is convincing in ways Farrell could never be; you believe he could throw a punch that would knock somebody out, and you believe that there's tenderness under his brutishness, too. Loretta Young, likewise, glows with her secret love in a way that makes you see that it doesn't matter if he's worthy of her love or not; it's a thing unto itself. (She in particular gets a lot of help in the inner glow department from cinematographer Joseph August, of Portrait of Jennie fame.) The American depression setting (most of it takes place in a Hooverville) helps by making Tracy seem less of a bum; it's more understandable why he's not working a regular job, and he's not living off Young even if he's not exactly supporting her properly, either.

But the other big difference is that three years have passed and Borzage has regained the visual command that he had in silent days. Tracy and Young's squatter cottage is one of those Borzagean apartments like in Seventh Heaven or Little Man, What Now?, whose Expressionist misshapenness is relieved by a direct connection to the sublime, a little square of window looking straight up at the sky. And the film has an undercurrent of frank, healthy eroticism— rooted in the sexual hunger in Young's eyes— which is palpable in almost every scene. No dead air here; the entire movie seems to be curling up next to you under the covers, satisfied. Man's Castle is, perhaps, Borzage's first great talkie (that depends on the remaining titles in this set, I suppose), and the one that most successfully recalls his silent masterpieces in the context of a new, grittier talkie realism. But it's also a do-over of an early talkie that Borzage knew, by then, he hadn't gotten right the first time— and why. By the time this movie is heading to heaven on a train, Borzage knows that you don't need a fantastic plot to reach seventh heaven.

Well, as you can see by the time elapsed since the last post on Song O' My Heart, my intention of watching the Borzage talkies straight through got somewhat... waylaid. Fact is, two tries at watching Liliom had ended in finding something else that needed to be done that night. But I watched Man's Castle the other night, and that convinced me that it was time to finally get through the film it owes a great deal to, Liliom.

I've seen four versions of Liliom at one time or another, counting a road show of Gordon McRae in Carousel when I was about 10, and the only one that really makes psychological sense to me is Fritz Lang's, with Charles Boyer. Carousel works fairly well because it's obvious that carny Billy Bigelow is a stand-in for all the war dead who never saw their kids grow up, but it's still hard not to find Billy self-indulgent for getting himself into a situation where he can't help dying, and then singing about it. Only Boyer captures Brandoesque psychological depths and confusion that make Liliom comprehensible as a figure full of self-loathing and low esteem, who mistreats his girl to build himself up and then hates himself for it. Lang's version works as therapy that finally helps Liliom understand himself, so he, in turn, can finally be of use to his wife and daughter.

And then there's Charles Farrell, in a mustache that makes him look 14 and giving a performance that suggests Charley Chase trying to play Stanley Kowalski. Farrell's own callowness, used effectively elsewhere (eg The River), only exacerbates every way in which we find Liliom a lazy bum and slacker, while making him seem too juvenile for his swagger to seem at all magnetic, let alone suggestive of inner depths and torment as with Boyer.

And this being 1930, though the film is technically well-made (and the print is absolutely gorgeous), it is very much filmed theater, with characters appearing at doorways just when they're needed to deliver a line that underlines the preceding scene, and a general feeling of dead air despite the imaginativeness of the studio backdrops. Dead air extends to Rose Hobart's performance, which is heartfelt by her, but too monotonously downbeat to really earn our empathy. What makes it worth watching— and it is worth watching— is the visuals; though the middle set in a surprisingly modernist home is a bit drab, the first act set mostly in the carnival is vivid and picturesque, and the last act, set in the afterlife, makes little sense in this version but is certainly like nothing else you've seen, except maybe The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T.

Well, I have to take issue here with some of what you've written. Having played Billy on stage in the musical, I can assure you the self-loathing and therapy are in the stage version. Sadly, due to time restraints, a bad screenplay adaptation and, most damagingly, the Breen office, the film musical is woefully emasculated.

Although I agree with you that the Lang version is better, I find Farrell the only really bad thing about the 1930 film. Not only is he too callow and woefully miscast, he's a black hole of energy and sucks the life out of every time he opens his mouth. Hobart is a bit too one-note but is effective. The rest of the cast is grand and Borzage's direction is fine.

And yes, God, is it a beautiful film to look at.

[Mike Gebert]

I think Hobart's performance is sort of like the comments about Mae Clarke a while back. She can be very sympathetic, it's a solid performance... but she just doesn't have star power. Where Loretta Young is far from my favorite 30s actress, but boy, when she moons after Tracy, the screen lights up like Times Square. And that makes all the difference in terms of how much we're likely to be invested in her love for a guy who doesn't really deserve it (though it's also true that she domesticates/redeems Tracy a lot more over the course of Man's Castle).

Another big difference is that Tracy and Young have real interplay, which takes a lot of the sting out of his callous and insulting manner toward her, makes it seems increasingly affectionate (though I'll understand any feminist objections to his character). Where in the '30 film, every line seems to be done walkie talkie style (wait for the previous person to finish, press a button, begin talking). Which is 1930 as much as it's Farrell, I'm sure.

I think Hobart's performance is sort of like the comments about Mae Clarke a while back. She can be very sympathetic, it's a solid performance... but she just doesn't have star power.

I seem to be the only Rose Hobart apologist on this board, but I'd like to point out again that she complained bitterly in her autobiography about Borzage's indifference towards her during the filming, in particular his refusal to rehearse her scenes. This was her screen debut.

That said, she was never going to be a major movie star, no matter how pretty she was.

I think Hobart's performance is sort of like the comments about Mae Clarke a while back. She can be very sympathetic, it's a solid performance... but she just doesn't have star power. Where Loretta Young is far from my favorite 30s actress, but boy, when she moons after Tracy, the screen lights up like Times Square. And that makes all the difference in terms of how much we're likely to be invested in her love for a guy who doesn't really deserve it (though it's also true that she domesticates/redeems Tracy a lot more over the course of Man's Castle).

Another big difference is that Tracy and Young have real interplay, which takes a lot of the sting out of his callous and insulting manner toward her, makes it seems increasingly affectionate (though I'll understand any feminist objections to his character). Where in the '30 film, every line seems to be done walkie talkie style (wait for the previous person to finish, press a button, begin talking). Which is 1930 as much as it's Farrell, I'm sure.

To be fair, Tracy gives Young a lot more to play off of. Hobart does what she can with a role with the built-in trap of turning one into a dish rag.

AND, IIRC, she's a stage actress (who had just played the role on stage) in her first film - and - she's saddled with Farrell.

When she was a guest at Cinecon (and this was the film they ran) she talked about the difficult time she had altering her performance style to work on screen.

[Mike Gebert]

Yeah, I agree that you have a whole host of typical-for-1930 factors working together to make the film stiff.

I wonder if Borzage didn't rehearse her because he figured the last thing she needed was more practice, as opposed to perhaps capturing some tiny bit of spontaneity. Or, he could have been hammered at the time, but it's a thought.

Yeah, I agree that you have a whole host of typical-for-1930 factors working together to make the film stiff.

I wonder if Borzage didn't rehearse her because he figured the last thing she needed was more practice, as opposed to perhaps capturing some tiny bit of spontaneity. Or, he could have been hammered at the time, but it's a thought.

Or he realized what a trainwreck Farrell was in the part and focused his energies on damage control for him.

I wonder if Borzage didn't rehearse her because he figured the last thing she needed was more practice, as opposed to perhaps capturing some tiny bit of spontaneity.

Possibly, but she said she had to do 36 takes for her death scene, which couldn't have helped her spontaneity. I think that Hobart and Borzage came from two different worlds, had trouble communicating, and may have started out with a certain amount of personal animosity towards each other.

Also, this was Borzage's second sound film, which must have been tough. And as Ms. O'Dowd points out, getting anything useful out of Farrell must have taken up a lot of Borzage's time.

[Mike Gebert]

Actually, his death, but her scene... I'm not convinced it was clear that Farrell was lousy in 1930. There are a lot of performances like his in those days. Why I oughta...

Compare Liliom to something like that Roadhouse Nights Cinevent showed last time and it seems downright sprightly.

Actually, his death, but her scene... I'm not convinced it was clear that Farrell was lousy in 1930. There are a lot of performances like his in those days. Why I oughta...

Compare Liliom to something like that Roadhouse Nights Cinevent showed last time and it seems downright sprightly.

Dissing Roadhouse Nights too? Why I oughta...

I watched Borzage's LILIOM last night without any knowledge of the story except that the title character was going to be a cad (which I had gleaned from glancing briefly at others' reviews). While I know there is a musical called CAROUSEL, I've never seen it and knew nothing about the plot, so I have no basis for comparison between Borzage's adaptation and any other version.

First of all, I can only echo what others have said about the fine print quality of this film. It is absolutely beautiful (I have the BFI edition, which I assume uses the same source material as the Borzage at Fox set).

Unfortunately an equally strong impression was formed by my disappointment with Charles Farrell (even though his likeness serves as my avatar). Prior to last night I had only seen Farrell in silent films, so hearing his voice for the first time shattered some illusions. He also just didn't seem physically suited to the role of a swaggering brute. Actually I think Guinn Williams (who appears briefly as Liliom's replacement at the carousel) would have been a much better choice for the role.

The biggest surprise came with the afterlife scenes. When the limbo train descended into the living room, I was expecting the final fade out. When Liliom's spirit rose from his body and walked towards the train, I couldn't believe Borzage was actually stretching out this death scene to the point of absurdity. I was still thinking that the film was near its end. Then when it became clear that the train journey was opening another act, and H.B. Warner finally appeared on the scene (I had spotted his name in the opening credits and kept thinking I must have missed him), I actually became much more interested in the film. Indeed Farrell seemed to get better at this point, and Warner was mesmerizing--so at-ease, assured and natural.

Now the ending, which made me want to throw blunt objects at the screen. Liliom slapping his daughter was bad enough, but the final scene between Julie and the daughter was just too much. Of course we're looking at a cultural product of eighty years ago, but I found the message reprehensible: "women, it's all right if your husband beats you, because he does it out of love." Certainly there are relationships that take on this dynamic, but to celebrate it as a romantic ideal seems morally suspect.

So after all this, it may sound like I didn't like the film. Actually I'm not quite sure what to think about it. It certainly does have its faults, but it also riled me in a such a way that it's hard to dismiss. The characters are not really likable (except for the supernatural ones), yet there's something compelling about the atmosphere that Borzage creates, the constant presence of the amusement park, the depiction of the afterlife, that makes the whole somehow a bit greater than the sum of its parts.

(Complaint mode on.)

I'm reviving this thread again, to complain bitterly about Charles Farrell. He really wasn't the most reliable performer on the planet, was he? I watched City Girl two nights ago, he's very convincing in it, as he is in Lucky Star. And City Girl is a great, great film, holy tapioca, a great film. Wow.

Last night I watched Liliom--gawdalmighty! Farrell is the size of Godzilla but he has no capacity for portraying menace, not even an eeny, tiny bit. And his voice is jarring. I've never liked the story or any of its film incarnations so maybe I'm prejudiced, but after rereading this thread it appears I'm not alone. Seventh Heaven, Lucky Star, they're wonderful films, but not because of Farrell. In the back of my head, I kept thinking "oh, if only George O'Brien had been cast in these roles. All of the pretty, good chemistry with Janet Gaynor, far better actor."

(Complaint mode off.)

I have read somewhere that Charles Farrell was considered for the lead of SUNRISE. Now that certainly would have detracted from the film. ( The story may be just baloney -Back in Germany Murnau had seen George in his first lead, "The Man Who Came Back"(1924), where he played a character who underwent a transformation very much like "The Man"'s in SUNRISE. Once at Fox in 1926 Murnau asked to have it screened for him while figuring out who to cast in SUNRISE.

But I cannot join the general Charley bashing. I think Charles Farrell was recognized at the time, and valued, as the male equivalent of Janet Gaynor. Just look at THE RIVER. And CITY GIRL. In both Mary Duncan is the assertive, aggressive, sexually experienced part of the couple.

Just as Charley could never have played "The Man", George could never have played Lem. Does anyone think that George, even if the script required, would have allowed his old man to treat his wife that way? George would have decked the old man within hours of the couple's arriving at the farm.

Charley did take on George's role in the talkie remake of "The Man Who Came Back", and predictably was not credible. It was one of the few Gaynor/ Farrell pairings that was not a success at the box office.

With respect. Have you seen FAZIL, or THE RED DANCE? I can't imagine that Charles Farrell being considered the Male equivalent of Janet Gaynor. Nor his "The Commodore" of OLD IRONSIDES either. Initially, Farrell was announced to play the lead in WINGS. Probably Buddy Rogers Jack Powell. I personally like him in Silents, but was disappointed in his acting for Talkies.

Yes, and to me he's not convincing in either, even with Howard Hawks and Raoul Walsh doing their utmost. He does have the same purity and natural sweetness and good looks that Gaynor has.

I thought Farrell was quite decent in Old Ironsides, and he's very good in After Tomorrow, the most relaxed I've ever seen him in a talkie.

And City Girl is a great, great film, holy tapioca, a great film. Wow.

I agree, except for the totally unswallowable ending, which almost ruins the film.

I've watched two more films from the Murnau/Borzage set...make that 1 1/2.

A surprise hit for me was Lazybones, which had a sort of Borzage-glow "Tol'able David" quality about it. Buck Jones was very good, and where did Borzage find that beautiful, photogenic-as-heck baby, and the even more beautiful little girl? Madge Bellamy was a cutie, too. The ending traveled dangerously toward icky-creepy, but thankfully refused to go there. Big "phew, that was close" from this audience.

Next up was "Song o My Heart." I gave it a half an hour, then all that gag-making faux Irishness got on my nerves and I ran away screaming.

Next up was "Song o My Heart." I gave it a half an hour, then all that gag-making faux Irishness got on my nerves and I ran away screaming.

skip ahead to the concert at the end. kinda like GLORIFYING THE AMERICAN GIRL, only the last half-hour is worth sitting through.

Next up was "Song o My Heart." I gave it a half an hour, then all that gag-making faux Irishness got on my nerves and I ran away screaming.

skip ahead to the concert at the end. kinda like GLORIFYING THE AMERICAN GIRL, only the last half-hour is worth sitting through.

Too late. It went back to Netflix this morning. Could not get it into the mailbox fast enough. Darn.

Next up was "Song o My Heart." I gave it a half an hour, then all that gag-making faux Irishness got on my nerves and I ran away screaming.

skip ahead to the concert at the end. kinda like GLORIFYING THE AMERICAN GIRL, only the last half-hour is worth sitting through.

Wasn't SONG OF MY HEART released in both talking and silent (!) versions, the silent version still containing the songs with audio? I remember there being a discussion on this when the boxed set came out, and those who reviewed them tended to like the silent version better because the dialog was gone and the editing snappier.

Naturally, like THE GOLD RUSH, Netflix probably only sends out the talkie version.

[Mike Gebert]

Yes, I talked about it on page two of this very thread... and the silent/hybrid version is a much more pleasant and fluid thing to sit through. I'm not going to say it's one of my favorite Borzage silents, but it's certainly easier to take.

Yes, I talked about it on page two of this very thread... and the silent/hybrid version is a much more pleasant and fluid thing to sit through. I'm not going to say it's one of my favorite Borzage silents, but it's certainly easier to take.

I prolly should have watched that one. (Internal debate.) Maybe someday.

Yes, I talked about it on page two of this very thread... and the silent/hybrid version is a much more pleasant and fluid thing to sit through. I'm not going to say it's one of my favorite Borzage silents, but it's certainly easier to take.

I prolly should have watched that one. (Internal debate.) Maybe someday.

One more reason to visit Atlanta. Mooda's not getting any younger, you know.

[Mike Gebert]

What does this mean?

What does this mean?

Sorry Mike, that probably should have been PMed.