La femme X

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.

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.

... 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.

More of a curio, this was reportedly the first MGM film to have a microphone follow the actors (on a fishing pole) at the suggestion of director Lionel Barrymore. Maybe that's why he got an Oscar nomination. Surely not for directing the photographer or the actors. The direction seemed so devoid of creativity it became obtrusive: a static camera that refused to follow the actors. If an actor moved, it jumped to a two-shot. Ruth Chatterton, however, is excellent as the long-suffering mother who sacrifices herself to prevent harm to the reputation of her son, who defends her in a murder case without knowing she is his mother! And Lewis Stone, who never gives a bad performance, is also excellent as the man she abandoned. It's worth a look for the acting.

For two years, Lionel Barrymore was the most famous actor-turned-director in Hollywood. The older brother of the famous Ethel and John Barrymore trio, Lionel had dipped his toe in the director's chair in the mid-1910s before solely concentrating on acting. He resumed directing in 1929 by handling a wall-to-wall talkie, August 1929's "Madame X." At the time, successful silent film directors were hesitant to tackle productions with microphones to capture verbal dialogue. The opportunities were wide open for those willing handle a new way of filming a movie with audio. Lionel was one of those people.

"Madame X," a popular adaptation of the 1908 play of the same name by French playwright Alexandre Bisson, had been filmed two times earlier, and has been remade nine times and counting after the 1929 version. That includes the 1966 Lana Turner and the 1981 Tuesday Weld movies. Stage actress Ruth Chatterton's character, Jacqueline Floriot, is thrown out into the streets by hubby Louis (Lewis Stone) for having an affair. He also prohibits her from seeing her son. Years later, she shoots her lover for trying to blackmail her ex, who's now the state's attorney general. Her assigned lawyer turns out to be her son. She only gives her name as Madame X, fearful of revealing her past.

Lionel's camera is largely stationary, a throwback to when he was directing movies in the mid-1910s where the camera barely moved, especially in drawing room dramas. But his work was appreciated by the Academy, nominating him for Best Director. One reason may have been he was one of the first to use an adaptation of a 'boom microphone.' During the production of "Madame X," Lionel had his audio people string a microphone on a fishing pole and position the apparatus high just out of frame to follow the moving actors. Previously, microphones were stationary, hidden in telephones or behind furniture. Lionel refused to take all the credit with the new innovation, stating in his 1951 autobiography that others in the industry had claimed to be the first in come up with the device. He stated, "All I can say is that in 1929 I recorded Miss Ruth Chatterton's voice with a fishing pole."

Chatterton, a famous stage actress, was encouraged by actor Emil Jannings to go into film. She appeared in her cinematic debut, 1928's 'Sins of the Father,' as well as two more movies before earning the lead in "Madame X." Her performance was so spectacular the Academy nominated her for Best Actress, only to be edged out by Mary Pickford during the second Awards' ceremony. Film exhibitors voted Chatterton as the second most popular draw in their theaters in 1929, second only to Norma Shearer. She starred in a number of highly successful movies in the early to mid-1930s, but tired of the movie set in 1938 to return to the stage.

Chatterton was passionate about flying. She was good friends with Amelia Earhart and piloted her own airplane crisscrossing America by herself several times.

As for the movie "Madame x," piano, organ and other instrumental players were still in demand by larger city movie theaters even though they were wired for sound. In some original prints of 1929 films seen today, the opening and closing credits contain no musical soundtrack. Theater owners in that short period wanted to make their customers feel like it was a special evening out to attend a movie. They hired musicians to play the opening and closing titles and had them sit or go out for a smoke while the movies were being played.