Despite the heavily edited final version of the film, it remains an innovative stalwart, synonymous with Welles' technical genius. The film is ahead of it's time in style, it lacks the stoic style of it's contemporaries, and filming techniques such as soft focus when the narration runs, and the continuous rolling of film and movement of the camera through scenes help the naturalistic style of the film and indeed the performances of the actors. The overlapping dialogue also means that the film remains both sharp and omniscient. The film itself takes a cynical and biting look at this upper class American family, as hinted by the acerbic title of the film itself. It's a shame that such a sharp film, has lost possibly it's greatest moments on the cutting room floor. Thankfully there is enough that remains that is to be admired.
Firstly Welles' favourite Joseph Cotton is given the most pivotal role in the film, which is understandable as he is surely the finest actor amongst the cast members. Like the majority of his onscreen performances he manages to earn the sympathy of the audience as his character, like Welles', acts as the innovator; whose inventions are ignored by the snobbery of the narrow minded George Minafer (the youngest Amberson played by Tim Holt). The apprehensive nature of the upperclass families to new technology, meant that their lives passed over with their fortunes lost. This powerful message is at the films core and of course life imitated art with the film's financier's apprehension about the film's leading to heavy edits.
Another sense of the films commentary on progress, is the softly hinted aspects of modern development throughout the town as the audience passes through it fleetingly with the characters. The passages through time are perfectly represented through these developments, whilst the Amberson's residence remain traditional. In the middle of everything are two love stories between both Cotton's Eugene and George's Mother; as well as George's own courting of Eugene's daughter Lucy (Anne Baxter). Unfortunately, we only really have hints of the stark reality Welles' tried to present through his screenplay, and so the film lacks a bit of bite in places and is at times a bit too reliant on narration in glueing the story together. Whilst the performances are overall enhance by Welles' direction, Agnes Moorehead gives a mesmerising performance as George's hysterical aunt. The film's finale is where the studio's input can be heavily felt, and it cries out for Welles' original vision (although this ending is more in line with the book's); with only more hints and promise of how potent this story could have been.
It is a fascinating movie, that perhaps with a full restoration, would be remembered more fondly than Citizen Kane. Even as it is, it remains a profound piece of cinema that serves as another example of Welles' genius.
Pandora's Box was perhaps best remembered for Louise Brooks' unforgettable performance as the amoral young woman, whose promiscuity incites violence and betrayal amongst her admirers. Directed by the great expressionist directory Georg Wilhelm Pabst, he decided to combine to form two famous stage tragedies written by dramatist Frank Wedekind, whose lead character Lulu encompassed both plays.
Louise Brooks is both insatiable and insouciant in her role, and it is this combination that makes her the ultimate temptress. The provocative nature of the film, is made all the more stirring by Brooks' on screen candidness and it's easy to see how she inspired so many, and has remained such an icon of early cinema.
Despite Brooks' near perfect transposition as Lulu, the film ultimately lacks something other than her that makes it truly one of the greats. Though well written and directed, with the usual bleak and sombre tones of Pabst, it does at times tend to over elaborate on a situation, whereas a bit more editing would have served to make the movie more potent. It is nonetheless a movie that will surprise even today's audience with it's stark approach against it's contemporary social attitudes.
Maybe more provocative than Pandora's Box, albeit a bit less subversive, has to be Lon Chaney's turn as The Phantom of the Opera. A story by Gaston Leroux that has achieved many adaptations of the years, and probably most known today in the form of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical. The musical has never much interested me, however the story has and I was very pleased to obtain a copy of this silent version. Apparently there have been various editions of this film that are both admired and maligned in equal measures. Based on my experience, the version I watched had to be definitive.
Lon Chaney had already built up quite a reputation as the master of disguise, not least for his performance as The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Chaney manages to conjure and even more grotesque appearance with his Phantom, not only that but an even greater characterisation of his subject. It is quite remarkable just how evocative his performance manages to be despite that lack of sound. His soul is as haunted as the Opera house itself, as he yearns for the love of young singer Christine played by the pretty and sweet Mary Philbin.
Alongside the more emotive elements of the film are some great action sequences, but the most striking aspect of this film are the set pieces. The opera house itself defines Hollywood Gothic, it's is vast and flamboyant, and has probably inspired every film of it's ilk since. Some of the scenes are profound in their beauty and style that you have to question "is this film really nearly 90 years old?". Perhaps the most striking scene is the now infamous Masque ball sequence, the only part of the picture film in two-toned Technicolour.
Both this and The Hunchback of Notre Dame are regarded as the first Hollywood horrors ever made. Their title is much owed to the masterful performances of Lon Chaney, who simply exudes both charisma and eeriness in abundance. Phantom of the Opera ranks up there with the finest horrors I've ever seen and it is also one of the greatest films of the silent era.
