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A truly enjoyable romp down Hollywood's memory lane comes to us courtesy, really, of Turner Classic Movies' "Young Film Composers Competition." The latest winner, Marcus Sjowall, was given the opportunity to provide a score to a silent film that had lost its own, and a very fine job Mr Sjowall did, too.

In 1923, Rupert Hughes directed this production of his eponymous novel. The scandals of the very early 1920s had evidently been on his mind, and Hughes wanted to counteract all that bad publicity. He acknowledges the scandals, then sets out to surmount them with title-card after title-card describing the long hours and hard work of Hollywood's employees, going so far at one point as to describe the work as "factory-hard," which must have been startling to young girls slaving away in sweatshops for pennies a day.

The story that conveys this message of virtuousness in Babylon concerns one Remember "Mem" Stodden, the daughter of a reverend who denounces Hollywood from his pulpit. Mem has married Owen Scudder in haste, but does not plan to repent at leisure--she hops from their train on the honeymoon trip. Stumbling through the desert, Mem collapses on the location set of a sheikh film (just as Eddie Cantor would do 14 years later, in "Ali Baba Goes to Town"), where she attracts the attention of the leading man. She shuns the film folk, though, and goes to work at a small hotel, but is laid off at the end of the season.

She decides to try her hand at the movies after all, and this begins perhaps the oddest part of the film. Successive scenes show movie people at work--directors, actors, cameramen, extras--and clearly this is Hughes at work, rehabilitating his coworkers. This is neither about the Glamour Factory nor an industry expose; it's more of a big infomercial for the movie business. It's fascinating to note which real-life stars are still recognizable today, and which prompt a confused, "Who??" Which isn't to say that Hughes doesn't get his digs in here and there. The vamp, the sheikh, the publicity shots that create a myth, the national screen sweetheart who's maybe just a little bit catty in real life--Hughes captures it all. My favorite set piece of this kind is Mem's screen test: she watches in the screening room in horror as she mugs and prances about on-screen, just as many silent actors of her era did: "Has anyone ever been so terrible on film"? Another nice one is Reverend Steddon's stunned reaction when he runs up to Mem on a circus picture set only to find a stunt man dressed in aerialist drag.

These scenes of Hollywood life are intercut with the travels of Owen Scudder, who is, it turns out, a wanted man, a Bluebeard who marries then kills. We see him court another victim, and later get very satisfactorily hoist with his own petard. Eventually, he reads about his wife's success, and comes to Hollywood to cash in.

This creates a kind of love rectangle, made up of Mem, her director, her leading man, and her no-good husband, all of which is satisfactorily settled in the dramatic closing scenes.

The film has had a lot of work done--many of its title cards seem to have gone missing, and the ones that are substituted often have modern-sounding phrasing, which led me to wonder if we were getting the same story as was originally told. The score is superb: evocative and subtle. The print is choppy; at one point a brief scene is inserted of one of Scudder's victims without context or explanation, and that can get a little disconcerting.

But it's an interesting film, funny and touching in many places, and a wonderful evocation of time and place.

"O Hollywood! Hollywood! Thou movie-mammon that leadest our children astray, and teachest them wickedness! O Los Angeles, thy name should be Los Diaboles!"

What a crazy, improbable, entertaining hot mess this was. It all starts with a young woman named Remember "Mem" Steddon (Eleanor Boardman) on a train with a man (Lew Cody) she's just married but has a bad feeling about, and so jumps off when it's briefly stopped. She winds up wandering until she happens across a movie shooting in the desert, which leads to her seeking work as an actor. He continues on seeking out his next victim, you see, because he's a serial killer, who marries and then kills his wives for their insurance. The film follows the two stories lines as they diverge; despite a rough start she eventually becomes a star, while he ends up in Egypt, where he runs into a surprise of his own. Somehow we know their paths are going to cross again, and while what happens isn't the most satisfying of plot resolutions, the ending sequence is a wild spectacle.

This was Boardman's first big role, and she's wonderful. Look for her character's wonderfully awful screen tests as she tries to break in the business. Even better is the host of Hollywood actors and directors we see on various film sets, in what are meaty cameos, e.g. Charlie Chaplin making 'A Woman of Paris,' Erich von Stroheim making 'Greed,' and Fred Niblo making 'The Famous Mrs. Fair,' There are many other shots behind the scenes, things like a stuntman dressed as a woman to double for Boardman, elaborate sets, and a giant propeller used to create wind.

We also see a casting director besieged by young women all looking to be a star, with one willing to "pay the price" as she puts it as she comes on to him, a clear reference for sex being the price a woman had to pay to get into the business, even by 1923. The film portrays the casting director as being virtuous and turning her away with the line "Say, are you trying to vamp me?" when of course the reality was probably almost always the opposite. In general the film is a little too rah-rah on Hollywood, putting it in the most positive light of people who worked extremely hard and put their heart and soul into their work, not knowing if censors or the public would approve of the end product, when a more honest portrayal would have been better. On the other hand, as the industry was often under attack for its morals and the lifestyles of its stars in this timeframe, and this was when a scandal really meant box office death, so I can forgive it for that.

The plot is wacky but I liked it for its creativity and was willing to suspend disbelief to go along for the ride. It has great pace, there are nice visuals, and production value is pretty high for the period; even its overly verbose intertitles seem to add to its appeal. This is a silent film that grabs you from the start, and is easy to enjoy.

Souls for Sale (1923)

** 1/2 (out of 4)

A young woman, Remember Steddon (Eleanor Boardman) is on a train, hours after her wedding to an evil man (Lew Cody) when she decides to jump overboard. She walks through the desert only to be rescued by a movie actor and his director (Richard Dix) who eventually falls for the woman and swears to make her a star. This Goldwyn Pictures release has become quite famous over the years due to several famous cameos that pop up throughout the running time. The most famous is a scene with Erich von Stroheim directing a scene from GREED and one of Chaplin directing A WOMAN IN Paris. We also gets scenes from THE ETERNAL THREE and THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR, which is important as both of these films are now lost so seeing the footage here is the only thing we have left. We also get cameos from various other famous faces but in the end, all this sidetrack really takes away from the actual story trying to be told. That story itself really isn't all that interesting or entertaining as it's quite bland and straight-forward even for 1923 standards. The entire subplot with the husband being a serial killer really seems out of place and leads to some rather silly drama. What does work are the performances with Boardman coming off extremely good here. She's very believable in the "ordinary" role and the young Dix is also quite good as the leading man. Mae Busch, Barbara La Marr and Frank Mayo are also nice in their roles. Cody is good as the serial killer even though his character wasn't needed. Back in the 20's and 30's Hollywood was great at making movies about itself. This one here isn't one of the best but there are enough curious aspect for film buffs to give it a shot.

Tonight "Souls for Sale" premiered on Turner Classic Movies with a wonderful new score by Marcus Sjowall, winner of the TCM 6th Annual Young Film Composers competition.

I cannot say if this is the best available print of this long-forgotten film, but it's (relatively) clean, and the hand-tinting ranges from obvious, (in the desert scenes), to moody and evocative, (in the train sequence that opens the film and the fire later on). Its director and screenwriter, Rupert Hughes, was the uncle of Howard Hughes. He based the screenplay on his own novel, and if any of the other six films he directed are as good as this, I'd like to see them.

Eleanor Boardman was a lovely actress, whose character in "Souls for Sale" is improbably named Remember Steddon, nicknamed "Mem." Boardman was adept at both comedy and drama, and tended to "emote" far less than was the style of the era. Compare her performance with that of Barbara LaMarr in this film, who was far better known at the time. (And LaMarr is a little more restrained than usual here.) Boardman has a dream role in "Souls for Sale": she literally tumbles off a train into the midst of a big budget Hollywood production being filmed in the desert, unexpectedly becoming an actress in the process.

This gentle lampooning of the Valentino sheik pictures sets in motion a series of send-ups of various Hollywood genres of the silent era: historical and costume dramas, burlesques and action films. Boardman's parts grow steadily larger while she gains more and more confidence in herself and her talents. It's a lovely transformation to watch as she grows from a sheltered, small-town minister's daughter to a queen of the silent screen.

Along the way, Mem rubs shoulders with countless Hollywood stars of the period and at least a half-dozen directors, including Charles Chaplin (filming "A Woman of Paris") and Erich Von Stroheim, who was filming "Greed." Since its earliest days, one of Hollywood's favorite subjects has been itself. Some movies about the Dream Factory come across as heavy-handed ("The Day of the Locust"), others as cynical and knowing ("The Player"), and still others as a pleasing blend of cynicism and comedy ("Singing in the Rain"). "Souls for Sale" seems to me to have all the best elements of a Hollywood on Hollywood movie. It's funny, warm, entertaining and engaging all the way, with a breathtaking climax.

More and more silent films are lost every year. Each time I discover one as good as "Souls for Sale," I know there are probably a half a dozen more films just as good that are gone forever. Thank heaven for the painstaking work of film preservationists. As a silent film enthusiast, I am so grateful for opportunities like the one TCM viewers got this evening.

For a modern audience, Souls for Sale (1923) is nothing we have not seen before. It's the small-town girl becomes big star overnight story, with healthy helpings of romantic melodrama thrown in. It's a story that can be done well, but here it's done with little to distinguish it from other movies of its kind.

Eleanor Boardman, a truly underrated talent, does well in the lead, with all the other actors giving solid performances. Silent film mavens will enjoy the topical humor and cameos of famous directors and stars of the early 1920s. (My favorite inter-title takes a jab at The Sheik (1921), a masterpiece of old time kitsch.) In the end, silent film geeks will get more out of this than casual viewers will.