randybigham

Of silent diva Clara Kimball Young's surviving films, much has been written of Eyes of Youth (1919) and rightly so. It's a compelling, well-wrought story and sensitively acted by the star and her supporting cast, including Rudolph Valentino in his first important screen role.

But Mid-Channel (1920), based on the hit Pinero play in which Ethel Barrymore appeared on Broadway, rivals Eyes of Youth as a highly-charged, penetrating drama and actually surpasses it as an elegant, provocative vehicle for Young, whose beauty and glamour are captured at their height in this picture.

Young may be more sympathetic and allowed a wider range of emotions in Eyes of Youth but her icy hauteur and ferocious petulance as a spoiled, high-strung society wife in Mid-Channel are stunning in their realism, perhaps even evocative of her reputedly difficult personality off-screen.

The spirited succession of marital arguments that culminate in infidelity for Zoe (Clara) and Theo Blundell (J. Frank Glendon) are fascinating to watch, not only for the excellent performances but for the dialogue between the couple, which contains some of the most intelligently witty sarcasm of the silent era.

Mid-Channel's catty carping is relieved by the gentleness of Peter Mottram (Clara's real-life father, Edward M. Kimball), a mutual friend who tries to reunite the warring pair. While the acting of Bertram Grassby, as Zoe's fickle lover Leonard Ferris, is as stilted as his name, Katherine Griffith's portrayal of Ethel Pierpont, Theo's racy mistress, is very convincing.

The lurid nature of this film shows the somewhat surprising extent to which sexual subjects were handled in the silent era. Although no actual physical lovemaking is shown it is implied heavily throughout — in the acting, in the title cards and in Clara's romantic wardrobe of undulating evening dresses and tea-gowns (designed by the ubiquitous couturier Lucile).

As good as the story is, as capable as most of her costars are, and as gorgeous as her clothes are, it's the magnetic appeal of Young's femme fatale part that makes this movie so enjoyable.

Although not a unanimous critical success upon its release, Mid-Channel has stood the test of time and offers a revealing taste of Clara Kimball Young at her most scathing.

This enormously successful film lives up to its legendary reputation. But it's also disappointing.

The atmospheric splendor of the cinematography and the melancholy mood set by the original musical score (on the Kino Video release) lull the viewer into the sense of reverie essential to appreciating this charming representation of countrified America facing the encroachment of big city evils.

The story is well-told by director D.W. Griffith, and the moral message of Woman's spiritual virtuosity is exploited without the sermonizing of some of his other pictures. There is a sensitivity and naturalness exhibited in the unfolding narrative of Way Down East and a graceful style seen in none of his other epic-scale ventures. In bringing the sweetness of his famous one-reelers to a major feature film, Griffith captured an almost magical tone and ambiance that distinguishes Way Down East as a masterful piece of intimate storytelling, rivaling Broken Blossoms (1919) in its intensity and sheer beauty.

However, it must be said that Griffith's sideline excesses in plot development are many and varied, hindering the progression of the central tale of Anna Moore's struggle to escape her past and search out a new life. Annoying bits of slapstick humor, totally at odds with the romance and tragedy of the main story, are indulged in while overly sentimental touches, like long, wistful close-ups, are equally aggravating.

Though otherwise superbly acted by Lillian Gish (Anna), her role is marred by the fact that some of her more emotional scenes are unnecessarily drawn out by Griffith. This is particularly true in the sequence of the death of Anna's illegitimate newborn.

Richard Barthelmess, as David Bartlett, Anna's sweetheart and savior, is outstandingly effective, as is Lowell Sherman as the decadent cad Lennox Sanderson who deceives Anna. Not all of the supporting cast was as competent or convincing, due largely to out-of-place comedic impersonations.

One huge stand out is Mary Hay who leaps onto the screen with a refreshing vivacity. The wit she imparts to her small role is the only really clever humor in the movie.

Long-forgotten today, but much discussed at the time, was the cameo appearance in the movie's prologue of popular New York society girl Mrs. Morgan Belmont, who played Diana Tremont, one of Anna's snooty Boston cousins. To do justice to her part, as well as to form an exciting contrast to the pastoral images to follow, Griffith went all out in the costume department, hiring top fashion designer Lucile (Lady Duff Gordon) to design glitzy gowns for the garden party and ball scenes.

Despite some errors in continuity, Way Down East's celebrated climax of Anna's rescue from an ice-flow as it drifts toward a roaring waterfall, is perfectly paced and as thrilling as it must have been to audiences in 1920. Considering the limited special effects of the day, the scenes are amazingly realistic. Gish lying unconscious on an ice cake as it zooms to destruction, her arm trailing in the current, is one of the most familiar silent film shots, even to people who know next to nothing about the genre, and although it has become almost cliché, its power is undiminished.

As a story, Way Down East is both fabulous and frustrating but its photographic beauty and emotional resonance are almost unparalleled in the Griffith oeuvre.

That this famous film version of the Stephenson classic, perhaps the first really great American thriller, was enormously aided by John Barrymore's extraordinary abilities is universally appreciated. Nearly forgotten now, however, is the fact the movie's success was also due to the exceptional beauty, marvellously captured, of Ziegfeld Follies showgirl Martha Mansfield in one of her first leading screen roles, that of the ingenue love interest to Barrymore's Dr. Jekyll incarnation.

The picture's period setting provided the ideal backdrop for Mansfield's delicate blonde looks and delightfully coy demeanor. It also gave the budding favorite ample excuse to wear the romantic chiffon creations of the couturiere "Lucile" (Lady Duff-Gordon), which are seen to best advantage in the dinner party scenes. To coincide with the release of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" (March 28, 1920), Martha Mansfield was sufficiently publicity-savvy to pose in her latest Lucile gowns for a double page photo-spread in "Harper's Bazaar" (March 1920).

Mansfield's popularity in the Paramount horror film lead her to be chosen by producer David Selznick to succeed Olive Thomas as the studio's top star upon the latter's shocking death in Paris. Tragically Mansfield was destined for a similar end, for only four years later she died of burns sustained when her costume caught fire while shooting a movie on location in Texas.