The Love Trap

The Love Trap is one of a many "part-talkies" that were produced during the transition period between the silent and sound eras. As sound was still relatively expensive and still excitingly new, the talkie segment in these features was usually a gimmick for the final scenes, not necessarily adding or taking away anything from the picture, but helping to draw the crowds. Today these pictures provide us with a chance to see directly the contrast between the final days of silent cinema and the first faltering steps of the talkies.

The director here is William Wyler, shooting one of his earliest full-length features. Wyler would later have the distinction of directing more Oscar-nominated acting performances than anyone else (thirty-three), a record still held by him today. In particular, he had a reputation for coaxing fine performances from actors who never showed talent anywhere else. Laura La Plante was not an especially distinguished actress, yet here she is first class. Perhaps the most crucial thing a director can do to help their cast, other than good coaching, is simply giving them time and space to act, and this is precisely what Wyler does for La Plante. In the opening scenes, when she is fired from the chorus line and flees to her dressing room, she is held for a few moments in mid-shot, forcing the audience to focus on her emoting. The scene in which she is kicked out on the street along with all her furniture could easily have been played for laughs, but again the camera concentrates on La Plante, and her expression is painfully real.

This generous manner of filming the leading lady, and the commendable performance it captures, have a wider impact on the picture as a whole. Firstly, it helps bring out the story visually by subtly yet convincingly bringing out the character's thoughts and feelings – something which is complimented by the relatively low frequency of intertitles. Furthermore, Wyler avoids the trap of many male directors when shooting a story where a woman is the protagonist, which is to focus too much on the lead man, and show us his point of view rather than hers. Instead he makes it absolutely clear that this is her story, not Neil Hamilton's. Finally, by making the emotions of the main character appear real, and forcing the audience to take notice of them, he elevates The Love Trap above the simple romcom that it is on paper. It's just a shame there isn't quite enough substance to the screenplay for this to pay off.

The talkie section of The Love Trap begins, ironically, with several seconds of silence as Hamilton confronts his family. This adds dramatic weight to the moment, and gives more impact to the dialogue when it begins. The power of silent moments had, again ironically, never been realised in the silent era as pictures had a continual musical backing. The sound scenes here still retain the flow, style and strong performances of the rest of the picture, and do not stand out as being awkward, as early talkies often were.

By their very nature, the part-talkies were usually potboilers, since by now all the more prestigious picture would be all-talking. However, thanks in no small part to Wyler's sensitive direction, The Love Trap is well above the average. Laura La Plante's career would begin to peter out soon after, and Neil Hamilton wound up as a supporting player in numerous TV series, but here they are both excellent. Wyler himself would go on to win three Academy Awards, and direct some of the greatest stars of Hollywood's golden age in the greatest performances of their career.

Pleasant concoction is a story as old as the hills of a family of snobs thinking the true blue girl their son marries on a whim is a no good gold-digger until proved wrong. A bit of an odd viewing experience since half way through the film it switches from silent to sound but Wyler's sure handed direction keeps it from being too jarring. It is interesting how in the silent portion the tone is set by shadows and the mood of a scene but after the dialog becomes the agent of explanation. It must have been a disconcerting balancing act for the actors involved but they handle it pretty well. Laura La Plante is enjoyable in the lead, a big star in silents who did make a successful transition to sound but moved to England shortly after this made a few films there and retired.

"Love Trap" offers a very slight - and very dated - story (the popular in those days "rich can't marry poor" trope), which moves very slowly, but it is a fascinating film from a technical perspective: the transition (at around the 45-minute mark) from a silent with a synchronized score and sound effects to a full-blown talkie is surprisingly smooth. The expressive Laura La Plante has an almost Chaplinesque quality in the dramatic sections, but she shines more in the final comedic segment, where she gets to turn the tables on a stuffy judge. She also strikes one great pose when she pretends to yawn at one point. **1/2 out of 4.

A real surprise and a delight, that is, if you enjoy the Cinderella stories of the 1920s. I always do, so long as they are nicely played, and THE LOVE TRAP has enough distinction to recommend it very highly. Charming and entertaining as a fluid silent, there are many marvelous visual touches, particularly the choreography involving synchronized taxi cabs. Unexpectedly, THE LOVE TRAP retains this graceful pace when the picture begins talking at about the half-way point. The second half is so engaging one really does forget that the first half was such a terrific silent picture. Star Laura La Plante is her wonderful, pert, pretty self, effortlessly carrying the silent style with a seemless transition into the heroine speaking the rest of her role. Of particular note and enjoyment is the handsome leading man, the future Commissioner Gordon on TV's BATMAN, Neil Hamilton. Though called upon to behave like a first rate schmoo at one point during the plot, Hamilton is a first rate smooth comedian, both silent and talking. For being a relatively innocuous "Cinderella" tale, THE LOVE TRAP packs in some fun little moments of sexual intrigue, such as when the snootie sister, Rita La Roy, tells the family she cannot be bothered with La Plante's sordid situation, and as the family leaves, she climbs the stairs, soon followed by a slyly winking butler.

The plot of this deceptively overlooked little trifle is the usual nonsense about a sweet young lass whose path crosses that of one of those personable young millionaires with entirely honourable intentions you find behind every corner in the silents, only to be entirely falsely suspected of being a gold-digging little hussy by his disapproving family. But 'The Love Trap' proves fascinating historically both as a relic of the "part-talkie" era and for its adroit staging by the up-and-coming young William Wyler feeling his way towards his mature style.

The first two thirds of this fluff has attractive performances in the leads by Laura La Plante and Neil Hamilton, while Wyler is already visibly attempting to find ways of extending the boundaries of the cinema screen through frequent use of pans and attempts at composition in depth. In his talkies Wyler abandoned the pans, which tend to jar at times, but with the great Gregg Toland behind the camera eventually came second only to Orson Welles as the 1940s' master of deep focus composition in 'The Best Years of Our Lives' (1946), which veteran cameraman Gilbert Warrenton had done his best to achieve in 'The Love Trap' with the limited resources then at his disposal.

Then suddenly everybody starts talking! The early scenes had all carried a Vitaphone soundtrack, and 'The Love Trap' had evidently started life as a silent, since there are scenes in which people speak dialogue which the makers haven't bothered to caption, as they'd presumably decided the film was going to go into release as a part-talkie and thus elected to keep titles to the minimum in scenes where the audience would be able to get the gist without them.

At this point the film seems on the verge of turning all serious on us, but happily opts instead for saucy pre-Code farce, in which Miss La Plante - mostly dressed only in her scanties - effortlessly and charmingly leaps the daunting hurdle of suddenly starring in a talkie.