Der Überfall auf die Virginiapost

Although it starts off seemingly on the wrong foot with one of my favorite heroes, Richard Barthelmess, forced to take part in some embarrassingly farcical scenes with a rain barrel, the movie soon settles down into high drama once the Hatburns come to roost at a neighboring farm. A vicious threesome, ostensibly led by Walter P. Lewis, the Hatburns are in fact dominated by a towering sadist, unforgettably played by hulking Ernest Torrence.

Although director Henry King does a lot of admirable scene setting with both his well-chosen locations and his hand-picked cast, this is a movie in which the minor players are just that: Minor! All play their parts most convincingly, but only Marion Abbott makes a lasting impression. Otherwise, this is strictly (as the script itself makes plain), a David versus Goliath confrontation. Even the sweet little heroine is relegated to the background once the action really starts. But that is all to the good, as that climactic fight-to-the-finish still packs a wallop that is unmatched in the cinema.

The above review, as published in my book, "Silent Films & Early Talkies on DVD", was based on the 94 minutes Image DVD version. I have just seen the 99-minute Grapevine version which is superior in a number of respects. For one thing, it throws more attention on Gladys Hulette who really comes to the fore in the beautifully tinted and toned dance sequence, which Image presents far less attractively in a faded, dull-as-ditch-water tint. And I must admit I greatly prefer the superbly synchronized canned music in the Grapevine disc to Robert Israel's adequate but by no mens riveting original score for Image.

Richard Barthelmess plays the title role in Henry King's tale of dark clouds in late-19th Century small-town Americana. He's the gawky youngest of two sons, wearing ill-fitting clothes and impatient to be looked upon as a man, who suddenly finds himself burdened with huge responsibilities when his older brother is crippled by three heavies and his father dies of a heart attack. Nothing more than a modern retelling of David and Goliath, but it's told with pace and vigour - and with lumbering Ernest Torrence stealing every scene he's in as the brutish thug with a leery eye on David's sweetheart.

This pastoral melodrama still packs a punch after nearly a century, mostly thanks to a lovingly produced scenario concocted by director Henry King with screenwriter (and future director) Edmund Goulding, from a Joseph Hergesheimer short story, and featuring a nearly flawless cast led by the charismatic Richard Barthelmess.

There is nothing fancy here except perhaps some overdone Griffith-style editing flourishes at the climax which artificially prolong the action, stretching its essential slam-bang quality into something resembling the slow motion stylization that caught on in the Sixties (Bonnie & Clyde's ending, for instance).

Generally, the pacing, setup and unfolding of the story are smooth and sure; the characters are authentically embodied and intelligently cast; the acting is subtle and for the most part realistic; the photography reveals all of the necessary information without ever calling attention to itself. The full spectrum of human emotional and spiritual states are covered. The themes are as old as the Virginia hills in which the story takes place: God, family, home, good vs evil, kindness vs cruelty, mother love, personal responsibility, coming of age, the cycle of birth, aging and death.

Ernest Torrence, in real life as civilized and cultivated a man as one could hope to encounter, plays a despicable criminal, who with his father and younger brother comprise a trio of sociopaths. The way he is photographed and choreographed heavily underscores his wickedness, but this kind of heightened presentation was a staple of silent cinema both in the US and abroad. The height and body language of the three bad-guy actors is in marked contrast to the families they afflict, adding a visual dimension to their essential natures. The least satisfying acting comes from Warner Richmond, who too often substitutes stupid grinning for characterization as the title character's strapping older brother. But Marion Abbott never cloys as the emotionally ravaged mother, and Gladys Hulette is the perfect country girl next door. Barthelmass is the soul of the film and perhaps never equaled this performance.

In Billy Wilder's "Sunset Boulevard," a forgotten silent-film actress, Norma Desmond, explained the appeal of silent stars: "we had faces then!" In the musical version of that classic, the lyric "…with one look I'm the girl (or boy) next door…" expanded on the visual powers of silent film actors. Each of those lines could have been written for handsome, charismatic Richard Barthelmess, the star of Henry King's "Tol'able David." Although his too-short pants vainly attempt to obscure the actor's maturity, Barthelmess manages to convince the audience that he is a boy at the edge of manhood. Through his dark eyes, body language, and facial expressions, Barthelmess literally becomes "the boy next door" without uttering a syllable.

"Tol'able David" may be too sentimental and occasionally too hokey for modern audiences, but, if viewed in the context of the post World War I period, the bucolic Americana story is engaging. Like the United States in the years leading up to the Great War, belligerent outsiders disrupt David's idyllic family life, and the young boy becomes a man in the fight to restore his world. The tale is simple, but universal. Enhanced by location filming in Virginia, "Tol'able David" provides a glimpse of country life in the early 20th century. However, produced in 1921, the film preceded the golden period of silent movies that was reached in the late 1920's, and the technical perfection and acting subtleties of that later period are lacking here. Although Ernest Torrence makes a formidable, frightening villain, neither his appearance nor his performance are subtle, and he owes more to the oft-parodied "grand style" of the early silents than to the nuanced acting that evolved later in the decade. However, Barthelmess and his leading lady, Gladys Hulette, perform admirably, even in a broad comic scene with a barrel that seems to have been taken from another movie.

Henry King keeps the story moving, although his camera did not achieve the fluidity that distinguishes later silents. A transitional film made between the innovative days of Griffith and the heights of Murnau, Vidor, and von Stroheim, "Tol'able David" remains entertaining and affectionate towards a vanished way of life and a lost style of film-making. If the viewer can transport him or herself back in time, a dazzling star and a film with genuine warmth and sentiment will immerse the audience in the days when "sentimental" was not a four-letter word.

Prepared to find this silent feature mawkish and slow, I got a pleasant surprise. This story of a boy's coming-of-age in rural America before the age of the automobile is somewhat sentimental and melodramatic, but never gratingly so. (And I can't sit through the 1934 "Little Women.") Richard Barthelmess is simply superb as the hero, capturing the changing moods, the giddy grandeur, silliness, and seriousness of the adolescent male. It's superb silent acting: his face goes from boyish to mature as the scenes demand. Also excellent is Ernest Torrence as the chief villain, who plays his outlaw not as just mean or greedy but genuinely creepy: he revels in the suffering of other creatures. Thus the movie suggests interesting things about the nature of criminality. It looks great, too: shot on location, beautifully composed, and with effective use of tinted film stock.