Stage Struck

Saw this about 5 years ago at the Paramount in Seattle with organ accompaniment. It's great. Paramount (the production company) obviously wanted to get some of that Charlie Chaplin loot and so crafted this vehicle for Ms. Swanson. She's a total pro and the resultant comedy, physical, visual, cultural and cinematic plays out, as mentioned elsewhere, with Technicolor sequences an unexpected bonus. It's entertaining no matter what format you might view it in but catch it in a theater, with good musical accompaniment, if you can.

Actually I'm going to the Paramount tonight to see It with Clara Bow. The Paramount has one of the last extant house organs (full pipes, effects and percussion) in the country.

I saw this film today at the San Francisco Silent Film Festival (10th Annual). I'd never seen Gloria Swanson in one of her silent films, knowing her mainly for her work in SUNSET BOULEVARD where she appeared under the direction of master Billy Wilder. Having seen STAGE STRUCK (directed by Alan Dwan), one immediately sees that Miss Swanson was a major acting talent and a superb comedienne with terrific timing. Moreover, she really knew how to "work the camera." Her performance is so modern, clever, and smart in a very cinematic way that you'd think she was born to be a movie star! Put aside your preconceptions of the typical silent screen actress and check out this performance if the opportunity arises. The print we saw today was a restoration by the George Eastman House in New York.

Gloria Swanson stars as "Jenny," a clumsy and unsophisticated waitress in love with her flap-jack flipping co-worker "Orme." Only problem is, Orme only has eyes for actresses. When the yearly (?) showboat glides into their West Virginia town with its show and new actress, Orme is smitten. Jenny, who has secretly been working on getting a correspondence course certificate in acting, tries to imitate the showboat actress but fails miserably. But she is given her chance to prove her acting chops ... Throughout Swanson works some real pathos into this slapstick comedy. She's generally terrific throughout. The story gets a bit convoluted at times, but this is a pretty enjoyable flick that begins with a Salome performance in Technicolor! Check it out if you get the chance.

Unlike many people, I had seen Gloria Swanson in some silent films and early talkies before I watched Sunset Boulevard (a film which still gives me nightmares). I knew that she was a very good dramatic actress with a lot of star quality, but I was surprised to find that she was a comedienne.

Even if you didn't know about her starting in Keystone comedies, her very good comedic timing still shines through. Her acting style is ahead of its time- she could convey emotion using only her face without descending into over-the-top spastic acting like some of her contemporaries. Her character of Jenny is adorable.

Her pratfalls and jokes do not seem forced, her dreams, aspirations and love for Orme (what kind of a name is that) come across like real emotions.

Jenny is a simple waitress, desperately in love with Orme, the pancake flipper. She secretly does his washing, even buying him a new, expensive shirt when she accidentally ruins his.

He, however, has a thing for actresses, so she decides to become an actress (using acting lessons by mail). Slapstick antics are persistent throughout the film- there's one scene where Jenny takes over Orme's pancake stand that is very funny. The ending scenes are also a hoot.

Will love triumph over paper idols? You'll have to see this film to find out.

Swanson was a unique looking woman, with those unique light-coloured eyes, so it's funny that Orme doesn't realize that she may be a catch sooner.

The first and last scenes are shot in two-strip technicolour, and pretty well at that. The opening has Swanson, as an actress (in a daydream) doing a Salome impersonation.

The whole scene where Jenny and Orme end up shelling peas together thrills me. The comings and goings between the kitchen and the dining room are elaborated in the most efficient and simple way (though the striking close-up of Swanson's face peeping through the serving hatch is arguably an unfortunate choice that disrupts the balance of the scene) as if for the sole purpose of introducing the subsequent non-event, when the whirl of half-lies vanishes into the knowing tenderness of a blissful moment. Orme's gentle gesture when he takes a seat to join Jenny in the shelling party is striking for its surprising freshness and spontaneity. The lovely minute that follows is disarmingly simple, fading out in a murmur of awkward smiles and artless confidences with no superfluous coda. No room here to set up an effect, as if Dwan imprinted his signature through the absence of any commentary over what is shown. And it's not a piece of Americana, nor a cheap domestic satire; it's just Orme and Jenny being there together, with no before or after. We did not have to wait for the Nouvelle Vague to film a young couple talking about love and death in a kitchen as if they were in their home.