Die unheimlichen Drei

Vowing revenge on the world of ‘normal' people, a sideshow ventriloquist, strong man & dwarf band together as THE UNHOLY THREE.

Following Lon Chaney's great film successes at Universal Studios, Irving Thalberg managed to entice the actor to come to MGM. Anxious to repeat the box office bonanzas of Chaney's recent past, Thalberg signed a one-picture deal with Chaney's favorite director, Tod Browning. The resulting film, THE UNHOLY THREE, was such a hit that Thalberg quickly signed Browning for a long-term contract.

Based on a story by Tod Robbins (who would also pen the inspiration for FREAKS), Browning would give the film an appropriately menacing atmosphere, with flashes of comedic wit at just the right intervals. A crime caper rather than a horror film, the chills are saved for right near the end with the rampages of a ferocious ape (actually a chimpanzee, photographed out of proportion) which no one seems surprised to find in a bird store.

While ventriloquism may seem an odd pastime to depict in a silent movie, Chaney made it all seem so sensible. A consummate artist who only now is starting to receive the proper accolades, Chaney did not need to contort limb or face to portray a little old lady. All he needed was a wig & a dress. So well was he received in this role that it was chosen to be remade five years later as Chaney's talking debut.

Muscular Victor McLaglen (a British Army champion athlete) and tiny Harry Earles (one of the few adult actors who could disguise himself as a baby) give very solid support as Chaney's wicked cronies; much of the favorable outcome of the film is due to them.

Pensive Mae Busch scores as the waifish pickpocket allied with Chaney; this very talented actress would get to shine a few years later in a series of appearances with Laurel & Hardy. In his one scene as a stern judge, Edward Connelly lends his saturnine presence to the proceedings.

Lon Chaney known as the man of a thousand faces usually reserved those faces for some grotesque character or monster to which he brought his considerable acting talents to create sympathy. The Unholy Three is an unusual film because he's quite an ordinary man here, but he effects the disguise of an old woman for criminal purposes.

Due to some light fingered activity at a carnival he was employed at Chaney, strong man Victor McLaglen, and midget Harry Earles find themselves unemployed. Chaney who is a ventriloquist decides that the three with their unique physical characteristics and talents can be used to create a nice criminal gang. Chaney in fact goes incognito in the guise of an old woman and Earles plays her grand baby. Personally I think he was way too big to be a toddler, but that's a little dramatic license that director Todd Browning was taking.

Chaney also buys a pet shop and Mae Busch who was a carnival waif goes and lives with them. They also employ Matt Moore as a salesman who is totally clueless about Chaney's and Earles's real identity and what they really do.

Things go wrong and a murder is committed on a job Chaney could not go along on. That sets the rest of the story in motion.

Of course Chaney's guise as an old woman is an astounding success as were all the other characters he created. Yet all the makeup and special effects would be for naught had he not had the acting chops to make it real.

Saying that and saying that because Chaney's virtuosity dominates the film. I thought the ending was truly a cop out. It dulls the impact of Chaney's artistry and it was quite a let down in a film I was ready to rate a notch or two higher.

Still his legion of fans will be well satisfied with this silent version of The Unholy Three remade by MGM for sound, Chaney's one and only sound feature.

"The Unholy Three" (MGM, 1925), directed by Tod Browning, is the kind of movie only Lon Chaney could do best, playing a tough guy with a good heart, donning a disguise or two, and coming out with one of the film's famous lines, "That's all there is to life, folks, just a little laugh, just a little tear." In reality, it's a change of pace for Chaney from his previous efforts, playing a tough but sympathetic character in a crime drama.

The story features three museum freaks, Hercules, the strong man (Victor McLaglen), Tweeledee, the dwarf (Harry Earles), and Professor Echo, the ventriloquist (Lon Chaney), performing in a sideshow while Echo's girl, Rosie O'Grady (Mae Busch) goes through the crowd picking pockets. When Echo comes upon an idea of a get-rich-quick scheme, he, Hercules, Tweeledee and Rosie become partners in crime as THE UNHOLY THREE. They then open a store stocked with parrots that will not talk, but Echo, disguised as Granny O'Grady, the proprietress, arranges to have the parrots "talk" only in his presence. His gal Rosie acts as "Granny's grand-daughter," with Tweeledee is disguised as Rosie's infant son and Hercules as the "infant's" uncle. With the shop as a front, THE UNHOLY THREE rob the homes of their well-to-do customers, especially when they telephone to complain that the parrots they brought does not talk, thus, having Granny and the "baby" paying them a visit and casing the place for a possible late night robbery. Also working in the shop is Hector McDonald (Matt Moore), who becomes interested in Rosie but is unaware of the operation.

Watching Lon Chaney disguised as a sweet little old lady is priceless, almost reminiscent to Tod Browning's latter melodrama of the sound era, "The Devil Doll" (MGM, 1936) in which Lionel Barrymore appeared as an escaped convict dressed as an elderly woman to elude the law, a role Chaney would have done, I'm sure, had he lived. Chaney would play Echo again in his one and only talkie of 1930 bearing the same title. With both films readily available for viewing on Turner Classic Movies, one can see and compare both versions, in spite of some changes in parts in the continuity. Along with Chaney, midget Harry Earles also repeats his Tweeledee performance.

When "The Unholy Three" was presented on public television's 13-week series tribute to MGM, "Movies, Great Movies" in 1973, its host, Richard Schickel mentioned that this 1925 version was Lon Chaney's personal favorite of all his movies and one of MGM's biggest hits of that year. It's a grand performance worthy of the "master of disguises." Although a silent movie, one would wish to hear how the Echo character would throw his voice around to fool his customers. (Watch the 1930 talkie and find out).

Also interesting is seeing a young Victor McLaglen, the future Best Actor winner of 1935's "The Informer," still rugged but a little thinner; Mae Busch (famous for her variety of roles in several Laurel and Hardy comedy shorts and features for Hal Roach in the 1930s), usually playing a tough gal, here playing against type as a co-starring love interest; and Matthew Betz as Inspector Regan. Tod Browning's direction should not go unnoticed, with one interesting scene having Chaney discussing his future plans in forming THE UNHOLY THREE to his supporters, as presented on screen in silhouettes, looking something like a "film noir" crook drama of the 1940s.

The 1925 version of THE UNHOLY THREE, clocked at 86 minutes, currently includes the same orchestral scoring on Turner Classic Movies that was composed and originally chosen for the October 12, 1973, public television presentation of "Movies, Great Movies" a 13-week series tribute to MGM's 50th anniversary of its silent movies from the 1920s, as hosted by Richard Schickel. A worthy rediscovery to Lon Chaney's filmography of MGM successes (1924-1930). (***)

A great film...period. Lon Chaney heads a group of three thieves/carnival performers as they masquerade as an old woman, a man, and a baby in a pet shop where they sell birds that talk only by ventriloquism. Once the owners get home they see the birds no longer talk and the thieves are invited into their opulent homes. Tod Browning, the director of Dracula, does a marvelous job with this film. There are scenes that are just fantastic, the best of which for me is the courtroom scene. Browning gets a lot of help, however, by some real good performances. Chaney turns in a complex performance of a ventriloquist in love, yet evil, yet with some slight conscience. The scene in the courtroom where he deliberates helping Hector is acting at its best. Throw in a great job by Mae Busch and little Harry Earles as a cigar-smoking midget disguised as a baby. The silent film is a lost art only in that we no longer view it, talk about it, review it like it should. This film and the performances within should be seen not heard.

How can one not love a Lon Chaney movie. His mastery of roles and his way of putting himself in the most awful physical contortions is historical. The old, "Too many cooks spoil the broth," is at work here. While these people were pulling off small crimes and picking pockets, things were reasonable. As soon as the loose cannon gets in and steals a valuable ruby, killing a man and harming a little girl, things go sour. The pet store front allows for all kinds of great visual delights. A midget playing a baby is also pretty bizarre. And, of course, we have the innocent man, who must be as dense as it possible to be, ignoring that strangest group of felons imaginable. Going around dusting the displays and keeping tabs on a gorilla they just happened to have. The finale is quite interesting and Chaney is superb. Just don't think too much as you watch it.