The Unholy Three

"The Unholy Three" was the last film made by the great Lon Chaney -- and the only talking film which he completed before his untimely death at age 47. Chaney is nothing less than marvelous as "Echo", the sideshow ventriloquist who forms a criminal collaboration with a midget (Harry Earles) and a strongman (Ivan Linow).

After fleeing a carnival bust, this threesome sets up a burglary ring with Echo also posing as an old lady pet shop owner. The gang also recruits Rosie (Lila Lee) as the sexy "granddaughter". This front works well enough for the gang until one of Rosie's suitors (Elliott Nugent) naively and innocently undermines the gang's unity.

This is a very enjoyable film, which has nice comic touches and some racy, pre-Code dialougue. The best scenes involve "Grandma" (Chaney in drag is a hoot!) fighting with the gang as the old lady. Other priceless scenes include "Baby" (Earles) casing a wealthy home ("pretty beads...) and where the gang eludes the police inspector watching Baby play around the Christmas tree ("my cow, gimme my cow!...). Very funny stuff.

This film is highly recommended to all film buffs -- and in particular, to fans of Lon Chaney. The real pleasure of course, is Chaney, who adds several vocal textures to his already incredible repertoire. He not only is the voice of Echo, but also "Grandma", a sideshow dummy, and a parrot! It is indeed a shame that we could not have had more from this incredible talent ...

Indeed, Lon Chaney was the man of a thousand faces, a make-up genius so ahead of his time that "three quarters of a century later" well accomplished professionals are still to be awed at the visual effects he compassed. Sadly, for most, he will always be remembered as Erick, the Phantom and Quasimodo. However, Chaney was much than just a horror actor and a pioneer of many stage make-up techniques; he was a gifted actor, as well as, a matchless performer and person. He was an incredibly skilled actor and, thankfully, The Unholy Three (1930) let's us actually see that.

In this film, Chaney did five voices; those of a parrot, an old woman, a girl, a ventriloquist, and the ventriloquist's dummy. His voice work was such that he had to sign a notarized statement largely as a publicity stunt, attesting to his versatile voice work in The Unholy Three. While the film is notable as a vehicle for the actor's vocal gymnastics, the story of this talkie version of the 1925 version is pretty much identical to the silent, but with a few exceptions: As a talkie, The Unholy Three is a bit less gripping by the sounds becoming explicit, as well as, lacking much of the macabre horror the silent version featured. Mae Busch is replaced by the far better Lila Lee, who was not only better as the roll of Rosie but much prettier as well. However, Victor Mclagen who played Hercules in the silent version was much better than his replacement, Ivan Linow. As far as, Harry Earles is concerned, his voice is completely incomprehensible. Not to mention, the man sitting behind the chair is no longer Tod Browning, but in fact, Jack Conway. Also, at the climax (differing much from the silent version), Mrs. O'Grady appears in court to testify on Hector's behalf. Under the strain of the cross-examination, Echo's voice cracks, and the prosecuting attorney pulls off his wig. Echo's subsequent confession clears Hector, but Echo is sent to prison. In the tearfully painful final scene, Hector and Rosie wave goodbye as Echo is sent off to prison by train.

The question that will forever remain, is if Chaney had lived, what else would he have accomplished? My guess is he would've easily conquered the movement in Hollywood toward more complicated make-up techniques, making any such effects icon look rather amateurish. Perhaps several nominations, maybe even an Oscar winner! He certainly would've played Count Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, The Mummy, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. If that were the case, what would ever come of such actors like Fredric March, Bela Lugosi, and Boris Karloff who became famous from playing their landmark Monster roll? He undoubtedly could've played anything and been anyone he wanted. His abilities were far beyond any actor of his or any other era. Unfortunately, out of 150+ films Chaney appeared in, less than 50 survived, and all we really have left of this brilliant, phenom of a talent are the monster movies that made him famous. Chaney was known for much more, for comedy and drama. In fact, he was also a highly skilled dancer, director, writer, singer, and comedian. And yet it was cancer that took him from film just as he proved he could successfully speak within the new realm of sound.

Lon Chaney could have been, perhaps, the greatest actor of all time, though, with much of his work missing, it's still justifiable that he is and beyond all the thousands of faces, there was one true Chaney: an incredibly gifted artist. Too bad we don't get to see it more often.

THE UNHOLY THREE (MGM, 1930), directed by Jack Conway, offers a moment of truth for 1930 audiences and film enthusiasts today in witnessing what silent film legend Lon Chaney had never done before on screen - to be heard as well as seen. Between 1928 and 1929, movie goers were given the opportunity to hear their favorite silent stars speaking on screen for the first time. Some succeeded, others did not. Chaney and Greta Garbo were MGM's final holdouts, each making the transition to sound by 1930, while the great comic, Charlie Chaplin held out the longest, making his talking debut in  THE GREAT DICTATOR (1940). Of all the silent screen performers, Chaney was something of a curiosity. The question is, "How would the man who created such legendary characters as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" (1923) or "The Phantom of the Opera," (1925)  sound on film?" For THE UNHOLY THREE, the wait wasn't very long. Minutes after the opening credits, the voice of Chaney is finally heard, with his first words being "Thank you, doctor. Thank you." For his role as a ventriloquist, Chaney offers his audience the opportunity to get to listen to his many voices as he did during the silent era with his many faces. Even for a talkie, Chaney continues to express himself with facial gestures as he did in the silent era, which comes off to best advantage.

The story opens where Professor Echo (Chaney), a sideshow performer, entertains with his ventriloquist act. He is accompanied by Hercules, the strong man (Ivan Linow), Tweeledee (Harry Earles), the midget, and his girlfriend, Rosie O'Grady (Lila Lee), who roams around the crowd picking the pockets from observant patrons. Following a police raid that puts the Brandon's Old-Fashioned Museum out of business, the next scene reveals Echo planning a new racket with his associates, working as thieves in the night. As "The Unholy Three," Echo disguises himself as a kindly old lady who owns "Mrs. O'Grady's Bird Shop"; Rosie as "her granddaughter"; Tweeledee plays the baby in the cradle; and Hercules as Granny's son-in-law and baby's uncle. For security reasons, Echo takes his pet gorilla from the sideshow, keeping him in the back room in case any of his partners in crime, particularly Hercules, decides to betray them. Also among "The Unholy Three" is Hector MacDonald (Elliott Nugent), a young student studying to become an architect who's obtained a position in the bird shop in order to be near Rosie, unaware that her "relatives" are a gang of thieves. When Echo discovers Rosie's love for the young man, he decides to make Hector the fall guy by making him the prime suspect, causing his arrest for the series of crimes and murder while the gang seeks refuge in a cabin out in the country, with Rosie being held against her will.

First filmed in 1925 that also featured Chaney and Harry Earles, with Mae Busch and Victor McLaglen as Rosie and Hercules, the same roles enacted here by the lesser known names of Lila Lee and Ivan Linow, who make fine, though not entirely great substitutes. While Chaney's voice(s) are articulate and clear, Earles is often hard to comprehend. Aside from this, Earles' character comes off both annoying and unlikable, which is probably the way he's supposed to be in the first place, being an instigator tempting Hercules to do things against his will. Hercules may be a strong man, but comes across as weak, considering his fear towards Echo's gorilla as well as failing to stand for himself against both Echo and Tweeledee.

Twelve minutes shorter than the original, with certain scenes slightly altered or eliminated altogether, everything appears to occur very quickly, with detailed actions described in words than depicted with extended scenes. Director Jack Conway makes several attempts in duplicating Tod Browning's style as presented for the 1925 version. The use of silhouetted images of "The Unholy Three" as they gather together planning their latest caper is revised, along with elements of surprise and suspense where a police inspector (Clarence Burton) plays around with the baby's toy elephant where the stolen necklace is actually hidden, and another at the trial where Echo plants a note for Hector to read, only to watch him toying with it instead. Aside from these revised highlights, only the ending differs from the original, for reasons explained in the TV documentary "Lon Chaney, a Thousand Faces" (2000). Comparing these films, each presented on Turner Classic Movies, it's sometimes hard to determine which is the better of the two, yet, the ending used for the remake is more in a logical sense. See and judge for yourself.

Although Chaney did became a success with his initial talkie, this was to be his one and only. Shortly after its completion, Chaney succumbed to cancer. Aside from Chaney's famous line, "That's all there is to life, folks, just a little laugh, a little tear," used in both movies, he finished his long and successful career with these final words, "I'll send you a postal card." The legend of Chaney ends here. The success and curiosity to THE UNHOLY THREE rests entirely on the man and the legend, even more so with this, his last hurrah. (***)

Why this wonderfully crazy film from 1930 isn't more readily available is a total sin. Of course, THE UNHOLY THREE (1930) is most famed for the only time we can hear the great silent horror star Lon Chaney speak. When he speaks, this rather gruff, but ordinary voice comes out. I sat there thinking "That's Quasimoto, Eric the Phantom, Dead Legs Flint, and that's what Dracula would of sounded like if Chaney lived to get the part? Wow!")

The film is really out of control. Three out of work circus performers (Chaney, midget Harry Earles and strongman Ivan Linow) decide to become a trio of jewel thieves. Midget Earles has the best dialog, delivered in a squeaky voice- "I like it" (meaning the plan) "It's unholy!" This motley trio decide to disquise themselves very outlandishly (Chaney as an old woman, Earles as a cooing baby) They couldn't just lay low, or take assumed names? They had to resort this sort of lunacy? Lila Lee is also a wonderful treat here. Why didn't she do more talkies?

Make no mistake, Lon Chaney Sr. was one of the most talented and versatile actors in the history of American Film. And in this, his only completed sound film, he is brilliant. As Professor Echo he uses his own pleasant voice (William Holden's voice is a good comparison), while he effectively and believably changes his voice during his old lady disguise. One wonders if he knew he was terminally ill when he made this film. Several sound vehicles were planned for him: "Dracula" (Bela Lugosi became a star inheriting the Chaney part), "The Sea Bat" (Charles Bickford), "The Phantom of Paris" (John Gilbert), and "The Big House" and "The Bugle Sounds" (Wallace Beery, the former establishing him in sound films.). One can only wonder how any of these films would have been if Chaney had lived to complete them.

But Chaney's is not the only good performance here. Lila Lee and future director-screenwriter Elliott Nugent are both good as the young lovers, the former's scenes with Chaney being some of the best in the picture. And, just as much as he did in the silent version, midget Harry Earles conveys pure menace as the depraved dwarf Tweedledee, although a combination of early sound equipment and his thick German accent make many of his lines all but incomprehensible. Reducing that accent by half, he would do impressive work in "Freaks" and, of course, "The Wizard of Oz" later in the decade. The only other roles of any size fall to veteran character men Clarence Burton and John Miljan, and they prove themselves more than up to the task.

Probably the only way anyone will get to see this film, until MGM decides to release it on video, is on Turner Classic Movies, which is where I saw it recently. If you do see it, you're in for a rare treat.