Madame X

... and understand that if the photography seems static and uninspired it is because that at this point in early talking film the camera could not move. You had to cross cut between shots to get even the illusion of motion.

As for Ruth Chatterton and Lewis Stone, in my opinion these two never could give a bad performance and that is true here too. These two were pioneers in acting in the talkies and acquit themselves marvelously considering that actors were often directed to over-emote. Ruth Chatterton resists the common early talkie urge to chew scenery better than Stone, though, probably owing to the fact that until she was 35 she was a star of the stage and thus was familiar with handling dialogue. Stone had started acting in silent films, so in these early talking roles he was having to feel his way through it, although he quickly got the hang of it.

In this case the two play estranged couple Jacqueline and Louis Floriot. Unlike the other filmed versions of Madame X, this one starts several years after Jacqueline has abandoned her family and at a time of severe illness for her son. The man she left her husband for has died, and she asks for a fresh start with Louis, who still loves her, but rebuffs her anyway on account of his pride and turns her out into the street without even allowing her to see her son.

In this version there is no meddling mother-in-law thinking the wife is not good enough for her son. Instead it is Louis' coldness that apparently caused Jacqueline to look for affection elsewhere. The vast majority of the film belongs to Chatterton as we see her go from man to man and fall deeper into alcoholism and despair. The makeup job was quite good on this film too as we see Chatterton transform from a woman with delicate China doll features to a bloated used-up alcoholic that not even her ex-husband recognizes when she goes on trial for her life in a courtroom where he presides as judge. Raymond Hackett is excellent as Jacqueline's grown son who feels real compassion for this woman that he does not know is his mother when he is assigned to defend her.

This first talking film version of the venerable Madame X takes a full one-third of its running time to get started as a proper movie. The first 30 minutes suffer horribly from atrocious miking, unbelievably stilted acting and frozen camera placement that was all too common in the early talkie era. It's as if the actors were on morphine laced with acid and performing under water. The one scene that takes place outdoors in a public park is crudely recorded and more jarring than revelatory in its effect.

When the locale finally shifts to southeast Asia the juicy part of the story begins with the star Ruth Chatterton on the first leg of her debauched round-the-world journey to oblivion as the wayward official's spouse whose life is ruined by an extramarital tryst. Chatterton's performance careens from laughably, abysmally dated posturings at the beginning to incandescent hyper-realism as she portrays the dissolution and ravages of absinthe addiction and self loathing. It is a brave and even startling tour de force, especially for its time. And the extreme contrast between the awful and the sublime is itself a phenomenon worth observing for its own sake. It speaks to the transition in acting styles that was taking place in the 1920s, a time of deep cultural change. Usually a movie from this era will contain different styles of acting coming from different actors - but here the differences are all within Chatterton herself.

The rest of the cast simply falls by the wayside, although in the early minutes it is Lewis Stone who registers more strongly, due to his deeper and more mike- friendly voice. Raymond Hackett as Madame X's clueless son is suitably earnest and sympathetic in his bravado courtroom climax scene. Ullrich Haupt is effective as the con man who befriends the heroine in South America, but Burgess Meredith's rendition of the same character in the 1966 version was more chillingly repulsive.

Toward the end Chatterton's performance begins to slip back into treacly mode (not helped by the overwrought dialogue), but for about 45 minutes she delivers one of the most entertaining acting jobs of 1929.

I really liked this old antique! Even though the heavy theatrics of Ruth Chatterton, Lewis Stone, and Raymond Hackett showed through, it was interesting in getting people's emotions involved circa 1929. Remember this was the early talkie period and the actors were still projecting their emotions, feelings, excitement, etc from the more familiar silent period....talkies were the new medium but feelings, emotions came out from the silent mode. I thought the spoken dialog to be excellent even though stagy. The whole production, photography, lighting, camera work was also outstanding. Overall it was a very good melodramatic, emotional, and provoked much sympathy and feelings. I'm for one enjoy the early talkie period with all its antique, splendid grandeur. Lets dust off more of these films for our future movie and theater historic buffs!!

Since there have been ten film adaptations of Madame X, you might not be tempted to rent all of them for a comparison study. What can I say to get you to check out the 1929 version instead of all the others? If you can appreciate the lost art of silent movies, but you prefer talkies, this one will probably be your favorite. It's a very obvious link between the two types of movies; if it were the first talking picture, I'd believe it.

Directed by Lionel Barrymore, this could have been a silent movie with the insertion of a few title cards. Everyone uses broad gestures and huge facial expressions. In one scene, the maid opens the door, flings her arms back in shock, waits three seconds as she backs up and widens her eyes, then exclaims, "Madame!" Lewis Stone waves his arms in the air, and Ruth Chatterton's makeup can be seen in the back row.

Still, the acting is worth watching. If you don't know who Ruth Chatterton is, that's because she retired in 1938. Before Gladys George wowed everyone with her 1937 courtroom scene, Ruth Chatterton played the famous fallen woman, and played it beautifully. In the story, Ruth is married to the wealthy Lewis Stone, but she leaves him and their young son for another man. The man dies, and Ruth is left penniless and alone. She takes comfort in alcohol and crummy men, until finally, her past catches up to her. If you don't know how, it's time you rented one of the versions. If you're on the fence about silent movies, don't pick this one first. Check out Gladys George or Lana Turner, and only come back to this one after you've seen Dodsworth and the hidden talents of Ruth Chatterton.

It's interesting that the rebellion against Victorian mores lasted until well into the 20th century. This story of the endurance of Mother Love and the cruel implacability of Victorian morality is much contrived ado about nothing.

Like too many early talkies it is extraordinarily dull: there is no background music, little cutting and the camera work is static. Self-indulgent, stagy scenes are allowed to run on for too long. The gloomy sets, dark painted flats such as one must have seen on the Victorian stage and as can be seen in early silent films, are only dimly illuminated. The gloss that MGM became known for is not in evidence here.

The only point of interest in this film is that it is a record of the talent and style of Ruth Chatterton, one of the foremost stage stars of the '20s, and a star of early talkie films. Unfortunately, though a definite professionalism and artistry are evident, they also expose her as a shallow and posturing actress. With her slack body, puffy face and large, bleary eyes, she exudes masochism and self-pity from her very first scene, and this sense of weary defeat is sounded again and again without variety. More of a problem is her voice: her plummy and very deliberate diction (perhaps a by-product of early sound recording) gives lie to what is supposed to be a display of deep feeling. Her performance is nothing but empty technique, all of which imitates and indicates intense feeling without actually showing any. Where is the energy and life of real emotion? It isn't here.

In fact, polished, lifeless performances like this suggest why Bette Davis's work in OF HUMAN BONDAGE was like a gust of cold, clear air in the movies: In that film, Davis is full of the grit, spite and energy of real life. When her Mildred gets angry, there is a real sense of danger and excitement in it, an almost out-of-control sexual edge. The tension, intensity and unexpectedness in Davis's best work is exactly what is lacking in Chatterton's playing at emotion. This film is strictly for students of early sound films, or devotees of outmoded styles in stage and screen acting.