Blutsbrüderschaft

Beau Geste begins at the end when a group from the French Foreign Legion find a post in the desert guarded by dead bodies which soon go up in smoke mysteriously. Flash to the childhood of some of the soldiers. Three little boys and one girl stage a viking funeral while playing war with toy boats. We see them grow up into fine young men (Ronald Colman, Neil Hamilon, and Ralph Forbes) and women (Mary Brian) who are as close as can be. Then, crisis when a family jewel is stolen and one of the boys is guilty of the crime. To avoid shame, they all enlist in the Foreign Legion, a childhood dream realized. There, they find that service is filled with tough sergeants (Noah Beery) and criminals (William Powell).

None of the characters have quite enough time to become quite endearing as individuals, but the mysteriousness of the opener makes the film enjoyable to watch. However, audiences are greeted with many familiar and competent actors. Don't worry though; the ending is very satisfying.

I'm guessing that if you mention Beau Geste to film fans the 1939 version with Gary Cooper, Robert Preston, and Ray Milland is the one that comes to mind most readily. But this version with Ronald Colman in the title role and Ralph Forbes and Neil Hamilton as the other Geste brothers is the first, the original, and has a whole lot going for it. It holds up well even as a silent film for today's audience. One of the things I liked about it was some of the dialog on screen attributed to Colman's character. As Ronald Colman had one of the great voices in the English speaking world the words he was given fit his heroic English character so well that we came to know when the talkies arrived.

With only minor variations the story from the 1939 version is what you see here so if you've seen that you know what to expect. The Geste boys are all suspected of stealing a precious family jewel and all enlist in the Foreign Legion to cover up the disgrace of the one they think might have stolen the gem.

Once there the brothers fall afoul of the sadistic Sergeant Lejaune played by perennial villain Noah Beery. William Powell who was one of Ronald Colman's best friends in Hollywood plays the sneak informer Boldini who learns of the purloined jewel and inflames Beery with the tale. Powell who also had impeccable diction was playing mostly villains due to his swarthy complexion. His career like Colman's was enhanced when talkies came in.

The film is every bit as exciting as when it was first released in 1926 and holds up very well for today's audiences. All it lacks are the great speaking voices of Colman and Powell.

A well-directed melodrama with a near-flawless cast. Director Herbert Brenon (or his editor) lets the story unfold at a steady but never slow pace, nicely managing the suspense, but giving you perhaps too much time to ponder some of the oddities that crop up in the plot. Why, for instance, when everyone is standing in a room from which a valuable jewel has just been stolen by a culprit who is clearly still present, do they not simply search the room? Why do the three brothers, each separately on the run, condemn themselves to joining the French Foreign Legion (simultaneously, no less!) if all of them know they're not guilty of any great crime and thus consciously ignore their family's desperate financial straits? They could have at least sent some of their Legion pay back home to mother.

Those Legionnaires got paid a wad of dough because -- in real life, anyhow -- they were brutal, mercenary killers employed by an imperialist power to wipe out Arabs and anybody else who got in its way. Not that the Arabs were such nice guys either but, of course, the film presents all this with the complexity of a cowboys-and-Indians B western. Having your hero join the Legion with no qualms is sort of like having your hero join the Ku Klux Klan, except that the Klan wasn't as efficient a group of racist mass-murderers.

Absurdities and implausiblities aside, the film holds its grip pretty well, not because of epic elements like mobs of attacking Arabs, shots of marvelously oppressive desert vistas, etc., but because of the unstressed acting amidst all the mayhem and intrigue. I tend to agree with the critic who wrote that, in the 1939 version, Gary Cooper merely played Gary Cooper but that, in the '26 version, Ronald Colman embodied Beau Geste. Everyone else is fine and if the villain is over-the-top, it's certainly forgivable on this occasion.

There's a lot of bugling in these French Foreign Legion pictures and whoever accompanies this long silent will have to struggle to stay in perfect sync with all the various fanfares, especially a necessary rendition of "Taps" near the climax.

First, the original novel by P.C. Wren is about the most exciting book I've ever read. Though it's generally considered adventure fantasy for adolescent boys, and I was a thirtysomething woman when I got around to reading it, I really couldn't put it down. HOW did all those Legionnaires stand at Fort Zinderneuf? Who stole the Blue Water? And of course I have had a major crush on Ronald Colman since my teens, so I had to buy the movie (on VHS, alas). But I love Gary Cooper, too. Which version to choose? Well, anybody but a Frenchman can join the Foreign Legion, but seeing Cooper and Robert Preston (love him, too) in this very English story just doesn't seem to work. Maybe Cary Grant should have done it.

Both this original and the Wellman remake are marvellous Golden Age films - it's difficult to compare silents with talkies, or either to the book. In the book you use your imagination, this 1926 original had a cast of thousands, '39 was a populist version with identical screenplay, full orchestra and name changes, '66 only had 2 brothers and muzak, whilst if made today would probably have nothing real in it at all.

Three English brothers - Ronald Colman, Ralph Forbes and Neil Hamilton - join the French Foreign Legion to escape one of them being accused of stealing a large diamond. They find a hard life awaiting them, coming from the hordes of seething Arabs but more especially their own intense Sergeant Lejaune (Noah Beery). The greasy rat Boldini as played by William Powell jarred a little, but only because you know how urbane he really was in retrospect, while you can almost hear Colman uttering his lines in his own inimitable way. The acting was believable, the direction appeared faultless and generally production values were Paramount-high.

Although I've seen the '39 film many more times I'm finding every time I watch this one (definitely unremastered too) it grows on me more and more, so heartily recommend it as the next best thing to Wren's novel.