Das verschwundene Brillantencollier

If the name Raymond Griffith is familiar today only to historians and silent comedy completists, blame the fact that his reputation rests entirely on two surviving but rarely shown features: 'Paths To Paradise' (1925) and 'Hands Up!' (1926). Neither comedy can match the sublime heights of invention achieved by Keaton, Chaplin or Lloyd (or, in his brief prime, Harry Langdon), but Griffith was an engaging talent who, given time, could have developed into a master craftsman. 'Paths to Paradise' finds him in a fairly typical role, playing a dapper con artist in a high society cat-and-mouse jewel theft caper, matching wits with attractive rival/partner Betty Compson.

PATHS TO PARADISE begins in the seedy streets of San Francisco and ends just across the border in Mexico (at least in the 6 of 7 reels version currently extant). Plot lines will be discussed as we go along so don't continue reading this if you want to go into the film cold. Along the way we see Raymond Griffith's character, a man of numerous names ("I always answer pages; you never know what might turn up") turn the tables on a group of con artists (including the "Queen of China") fleecing tourists looking for a view of the seamy side of life using nothing more than his wits and a gas inspector badge.

He then matches wits with some of that gang, police and detectives in order to obtain a valuable diamond necklace. His major ruse is declaring himself to be a deft detective. He's able to convince the owner of the necklace of this to such an extent that the owner proclaims that this man is "the best detective in the world" to all the guests gathered at his sumptuous party. When the owner notices not all of those present agree, he suggests they hide a watch while the "detective" is in another room. Of course, while the watch is being hidden the "detective" is busily working on the safe.

Although initially at odds against the "Queen of China", who is working as a maid in the house with the necklace as her goal, they eventually team up to pull off the heist. A policeman wrestling with a dog who's taken his flashlight provides a very humorous scene as no matter how the "detective" (who's decided to nick the whole safe and work on opening it later) moves about, he's continually targeted by the beam of the flashlight. Feeling he's finally been caught, he sits down in exasperation with his hands in the air. Only then does he realize the policeman has no idea of his presence and the action continues.

After a few more mishaps, twists and turns the couple liberate the necklace and make use of a car to head toward the Mexican border. A police car is in hot pursuit and a call is put out for motorcycle cops from all the cities along the path of the fugitives. From San Luis Obispo on more and more motorcycle cops pour out until it almost looks like an early motocross event! Continued firing by the police manages to puncture one of the wheels of the getaway car. Although the police are not that far behind, the couple are able to stop and effect a change of tires speedily enough to resume their escape. At the end of the 6th reel, they've made it across the border and the police are unwilling to follow across the border due to "international complications". According to reviews of the film when it came out, the 7th reel has the woman feeling guilty about the theft and convincing her companion to return so they can give it back. And as a payoff for the gazillion cops on bikes earlier, apparently each and every one of them slaps a speeding ticket on the car when they do return. (At various times in the chase there are shots of the speedometer at 80 to 100 mph - which would be highly unlikely for the terrain shown).

All in all a fast-paced, funny film. It's highly unlikely that the 7th reel still exists in viable nitrate . . . but it sure would be fun to see it!

I first saw this film in 1972 in London, shortly after the only extant copy was found. Even this print was incomplete, missing the final reel. As it stands the film ends with Compson and Griffith crossing the border into Mexico, beyond the reach of the gaggle of police who've been chasing them. But the missing reel has Compson having second thoughts about the heist of the necklace--it was, after all, intended to go to the daughter of the necklace's owner on her wedding day. So Compson convinces Griffith to cross back over the border again and on into California and return the necklace to its owners. Which they do, pursued by police cars and motorcycles.

True, the film is not gag driven; most of the humor comes from the dramatic irony of two rival jewel thieves, Griffith and Compson, making their way into the home where the necklace is kept locked away in a safe, Griffith posing as a police detective who says he's there to make sure the necklace is safe; Compson pretends to be a servant. Griffith and Compson make repeated and often hilarious attempts to steal the necklace while the wedding party is on and the house is full of guests and two bonafide plainclothes police. In one scene Griffith delights the guests by having them hide an item for him to find, while he waits in the next room where the safe is kept, desperately trying to break into it and steal the necklace before he's called back.

A lot of the humor lies in the tension generated by the thieves' masquerade and by the tension between the two (in an earlier scene Griffith, posing again as a detective, had conned Compson and her gang in San Francisco and made off with a huge sum of their money). One of the funniest scenes in the film takes place while the house is dark and everyone is asleep. Griffith sneaks into the darkened room where the safe is kept. The two cops decide to see if everything's safe and sound and make their way through the rooms of the house with a flashlight. At one point they decide to light a cigarette; the cop with the long-handled flashlight sticks it under his arm, pointing it behind him and illuminating Griffith in the next room, frozen in place and holding the safe in his arms. Neither cop sees him, though one apparently sees something out of the corner of his eye right before the other cop removes the flashlight from under his arm, so that the light no longer shines on Griffith. When they turn to shine the light back into the other room, Griffith is gone. They go into the other room to check it out; but the family dog grabs the flashlight away from the detective, who chases the dog back and forth across the room in a futile attempt to take the light back. While the dog is running around with the flashlight, the light shines on Griffith who is behind the cops and against the opposite wall, holding the safe. The cops, intent on retrieving the flashlight don't see Griffith. Griffith tries desperately to avoid the light, scampering back and forth and onto a couch, only to have the dog follow his every move and constantly illuminating him. Griffith finally sits on the couch with the safe, sighs, holds his hands up in defeat, convinced that it's only a matter of time before he's discovered. But the cops retrieve the light, they never see Griffith, and he escapes from the room.

Charlie Chaplin used this same gag in THE GOLD RUSH. When Charlie and the other prospector, Big Jim, are in their cabin in the middle of nowhere, starving, they're threatened by another prospector who's entered their cabin with a rifle. Big Jim and the intruder wrestle over the rifle, which is always pointed at Charlie during the struggle; no matter where he runs in the cabin, he can't escape being in the crosshairs of a weapon about to fire and kill him. A very funny sequence, but lifted from PATHS TO PARADISE (just as the 'Dance of the Rolls' in THE GOLD RUSH was lifted from an early Fatty Arbuckle and Buster Keaton silent one-reeler).

I love this film. When I saw it in London, my stomach ached from laughing so hard. This film IS available on tape; the owner of the one extant copy has them for sale at Grapevine Video.

I love Raymond Griffith ever since I discovered him in Hands Up! Which played at Cinevent the annual film convention in Columbus Ohio. Since then I have been lucky enough to track down four or five titles and they are all enchanting. Thank you Ben Model for adding the perfect theater organ music accompaniment and thanks to the people Ben hired to do the digital restoration and to do the grading for their aid in cleaning up the image, which is stunning, sharp and with great greyscale. There are a couple scenes at night where the details would get lost if it were not for the delicate balance of black, white and grays. And thanks to Jesse Pierce for recreating the missing intertitle cards that now fill in the detail of the missing last reel. Run, don't walk to get your copy of this wonderful and smart comedy as soon as possible!

Though much of Raymond Griffith's work is lost, this film and Hands Up! have earned him a reputation as one of the most important silent comedians beyond the pantheon names (Chaplin, Keaton, et al.). This is a very sprightly comedy, but those looking for proof of Walter Kerr's contention that Griffith is a comedian in that class will be disappointed. Not because Griffith isn't very skilled, but because he isn't an outright comedian-- not unless you consider William Powell in the same group as the Marx Brothers and Abbott & Costello.

What Paths to Paradise resembles most is sound comedies about cheerfully amoral tuxedoed criminals like Trouble in Paradise, Jewel Robbery or The Lady Eve. Griffith and Betty Compson (who has equal screen time and in fact slightly overshadows Griffith) are rivals who both worm their way into the home of an aged and rather careless zillionaire who has acquired a big diamond. As in those sound films, much of the humor comes from the amoral delight that the criminals take in their work, not in elaborate visual gags. Even when the film climaxes in a primarily visual sequence-- a car chase-- the humor comes not from the sort of frantic, topper-on-topper gag sequence you might expect from Lloyd, say, but from the sheer aplomb with which Griffith changes a tire at high speed without mussing his evening wear. In fact overall his character, with his bemused, droll reactions (and the line readings you imagine to go with them), seems more suited to sound than silence, and it was only Griffith's weak speaking voice (his vocal cords had been damaged earlier in life) that led him to give up acting for producing after sound came in.