Carmen

Geraldine Farrar (as Carmen) is a Gypsy involved with a gang of smugglers; to help them, she agrees to deflect Officer Wallace Reid (as Don Jose)'s attention with a seduction. Mr. Reid is so smitten with Ms. Farrar, he decides to pursue her; but Farrar only has eyes for bullfighter Pedro de Cordoba (as Escamillo)… Farrar, with a flower in her teeth, is unintentionally amusing (and not very convincing to modern eyes) as a seductress. Nonetheless, she was a big Metropolitan Opera star, and Bizet's "Carmen" proved to be a popular film debut. In fact, Motion Picture Magazine conducted an extensive poll to determine "Screen Masterpieces of Acting". and Farrar's "Carmen" was the best female performance of the year 1915; she outpolled not only Mae Marsh (in "Birth of a Nation") and Mary Pickford (in "Rags"), but also Theda Bara in a competing version of "Carmen".

A movie highlight is Farrar letting her hair down and cat-fighting with another woman in the cigarette factory where they work - and almost ripping the other woman's shirt off! Reid is a very handsome leading man, who doesn't overact throughout; making a scene where he nearly rapes Farrar more convincing. Mr. de Cordoba always uses his eyes to great advantage. Cecil B. DeMille shows improvement as a director - near the end, Farrar and de Cordoba play a nicely staged scene before the bullfight; though, Farrar ruins it by approaching the camera like she's going to take a bow. After the bullfight, Reid and Farrar take more "affective" bows.

****** Carmen (10/31/15) Cecil B. DeMille ~ Geraldine Farrar, Wallace Reid, Pedro de Cordoba, Horace B. Carpenter

Hard to imagine trying to make a silent film out of an opera, but DeMille manages to pull it off, more or less. Opera star Geraldine Farrar plays the title role; she leads a young officer (Wallace Reid) to ruin. Of course, she gets hers in the end ... or in the chest, in this case.

Farrar is okay in her part, but really excels when she is in beyotch mode. Reid seems little more than window dressing at the start, but he gets more interesting as he gets more ticked off. Farrar plays him like a cheap drum.

A mid-thirties Pedro de Cordoba plays a bullfighter; it's interesting to see him this young. There is also a good catfight between Farrar and another gypsy.

The version I saw on YouTube was tinted and restored, and contains themes from the opera.

"Carmen" the 1845 novella by Prosper Merimee and the Georges Bizet opera have been adapted on screen numerous times since 1913. The oldest existing film version is Cecil B. DeMille's October 1915 "Carmen." Famed opera singer Geraldine Farrar played the gypsy Carmen. Being a silent movie, however, her golden voice wasn't heard on screen. But in its premier and selected cities, Hugo Riesenfeld's original film score was played by an orchestra alongside the projected film.

"Carmen," set in 1830 Spain, dealt with smugglers who conscripted the female gypsy to persuade a high-moral young Army officer manning the city gates to allow the group in to sell their goods. Naturally, the officer succumbs to Carmen's sexy whiles and his slippery slide down the corrupt ladder begins.

Farrar, born and raised in Melrose, Massachusetts, became a world famous opera singer, starring in numerous higly-regarded operas. "Carmen" was her film debut, a performance drawing praise from a number of newspaper reviews. One critic wrote, "the beautiful and gifted star, to employ her talents in the attaining of success in the films is one of the greatest steps in advancing the dignity of the motion pictures."

Playing opposite Farrar was Wallace Reid, called "the screen's most perfect lover." Having a successful film career for five years before he appeared in this Lasky Feature Play Company feature, Reid went on to play opposite cinema's top leading silent film actresses. He passed away at the young age of 32 from an addiction of morphine caused from being stressed in the middle of a hectic movie production schedule.

As some of the other reviewers have said, Geraldine Farrar is quite extraordinary in this film. She is most evidently having the time of her life, freed from the shackles of the operatic stage and the tyranny of those conventions which demand conformity. Her instincts were obviously spontaneous, and her body language and facial expressions go far beyond what was expected in an operatic performance, in those days and even now. "You have killed me, but I am free!" You can sense this freedom in every frame of the movie. The restored film is beautiful, amazingly clear and vibrant, with the tinting adding greatly to the effect. The one thing I found jarring, however, was the music! Gillian Anderson (the conductor, not the actress) performed a labor of love in resuscitating Hugo Riesenfeld's original orchestral score, complete with vocal soloists, but for all that, frequently the music is at odds with the film, despite -- or perhaps because of -- being excerpted from Bizet's opera. There are too many episodes in the film that have no direct counterpart in the music, and I feel it would have been better to give a Carl Davis or his brilliant equivalent the freedom to write a totally new score, especially since the film is based on Merimee's novel rather than the opera libretto of Halevy. Until that happens, I'll prefer to watch the film without sound, but watch it I will!

The relationship between cinema and opera has always been a bit on-off, but occasionally has yielded some good things. Cecil B. De Mille was one of the first filmmakers to acknowledge the similarities between the two mediums, creating what was perhaps the first true opera film.

The casting of renowned opera star Geraldine Farrar was more than just a publicity stunt. Screen acting was still in development, but opera acting – which is similar in that plot and character must primarily revealed visually through gesture and presence – had been going for centuries. Farrar fits right in on the screen, giving a realistic performance with a touch of dynamic dramatics – the style that De Mille favoured and that was central to his silent era work.

Farrar apparently enjoyed the freedom of not being so constrained by the music, and being able to act in her own time. However, De Mille's Carmen is still very much an adaptation of Georges Bizet's opera, rather than Prosper Merimee's novel. It not only follows the opera's libretto more closely than it does the original text, certain key sequences do appear to have been staged to fit Bizet's music – in particular the final climactic scene. Funnily enough, when Raoul Walsh made his Carmen the same year, he deliberately based it on the novel, not the opera, as Fox could not afford the hefty fee for the rights to the libretto. Sadly Walsh's version, which he goes into some detail about in his autobiography, is lost.

In Carmen we can also see the De Mille style which made his silent films so watchable was really beginning to mature. One of the best things about his silent pictures is the sparseness of the intertitles. Not only are they used purely when necessary, De Mille also ensures they are spaced out we are never bombarded with them. Whereas many silent films might have a title when a character asks a question, followed a few seconds later by another title giving the response, with De Mille each title stands alone. If two characters are talking to each other, the majority of the conversation will be conveyed by gesture, expression and context. This means that the flow of each scene is not broken up. A good example is when Don Jose and Carmen are dancing in the tavern, Don Jose hears the bugler calling him back to his post, he is reluctant to go, but an officer persuades him. Whereas many other directors would have interrupted this sequence with two or three speech titles, De Mille credits the audience with the ability to be able to read the scene visually, which allows us to really watch the performances.

De Mille was also coming along in his handling of crowds scenes – the extras in the cigarette factory and the bullring look particularly naturalistic, although he perhaps needed a bit more practice and drawing the audience's eyes to the most important part of the frame. Another De Mille trademark makes an early appearance here too – the scene in which Carmen has her fortune read is shown with "Rembrandt lighting", that is with actors illuminated while that background is shrouded in darkness. This not only gives a moody atmosphere, it also isolates characters, really focusing us upon their performance.

Good as he was, De Mille was certainly also a rather pompous and pretentious figure, and it seems his contemporaries were already onto him. Charlie Chaplin's brilliant Burlesque on Carmen expertly skewers the seriousness of De Mille's vision (the parody is clearly based on this version, mimicking the sets, costumes and even some of the camera set ups). In his autobiography Walsh also talks about rushing out his version in order to upstage his rival (although he was a single day late). The self-important De Mille was probably more or less deserving of this derision, but he still made some great films. It is also interesting that De Mille, Walsh and Chaplin all took on Carmen at this time, as it was these three very different directors who would now take over from Griffith as being at the forefront of cinematic development.