Stage Struck

I am a huge Gloria Swanson fan but I was a little disappointed with STAGE STRUCK. La Swanson, of course, was the premiere glamour girl of the silent screen, the stylish queen of romantic dramas but she was a good comedienne too and as an actress always wanted to expand her range. Here she goes into Mabel Normand territory with uneven results. Her looks played down dramatically, she's a waitress in a frenzied riverfront hash house who secretly pines for the dump's pancake maker Lawrence Gray. He on the other hand is obsessed with actresses, and when a riverboat docks in town is bewitched by the diva on the showboat, Getrude Astor.

There are some funny moments here, but this is rather low comedy for the elegant Swanson. Many of the gags are straight out of the playbook for earthy two-reel comedies. Kudos to her bravery for allowing her to be photographed unflattering (of course in her fantasy segments, she is as glamourous as ever) but it's not the Swanson her fans wanted and it's notable she never made another picture in this vein again. Lawrence Gray actually comes off better as the handsome small-town heart throb, alas his film career didn't really go anywhere. His character's revelation at the end does not ring true though.

I have to confess I was disappointed that the movie was not what I was hoping for, a comedy spin on Katharine Hepburn's drama "Morning Glory" with Gloria being an ambitious wanna-be actress. Here, she's mainly interested in pursuing acting only because Lawrence Gray is obsessed with such women, his room walls papered with pictures of them. The Kino print is wonderful though, with early Technicolor footage in it's opening and closing scenes. The title of my review comes from Gloria's frequently repeated comment after her various attempts at attention literally have her falling on her face.

Saw this about 5 years ago at the Paramount in Seattle with organ accompaniment. It's great. Paramount (the production company) obviously wanted to get some of that Charlie Chaplin loot and so crafted this vehicle for Ms. Swanson. She's a total pro and the resultant comedy, physical, visual, cultural and cinematic plays out, as mentioned elsewhere, with Technicolor sequences an unexpected bonus. It's entertaining no matter what format you might view it in but catch it in a theater, with good musical accompaniment, if you can.

Actually I'm going to the Paramount tonight to see It with Clara Bow. The Paramount has one of the last extant house organs (full pipes, effects and percussion) in the country.

Unlike many people, I had seen Gloria Swanson in some silent films and early talkies before I watched Sunset Boulevard (a film which still gives me nightmares). I knew that she was a very good dramatic actress with a lot of star quality, but I was surprised to find that she was a comedienne.

Even if you didn't know about her starting in Keystone comedies, her very good comedic timing still shines through. Her acting style is ahead of its time- she could convey emotion using only her face without descending into over-the-top spastic acting like some of her contemporaries. Her character of Jenny is adorable.

Her pratfalls and jokes do not seem forced, her dreams, aspirations and love for Orme (what kind of a name is that) come across like real emotions.

Jenny is a simple waitress, desperately in love with Orme, the pancake flipper. She secretly does his washing, even buying him a new, expensive shirt when she accidentally ruins his.

He, however, has a thing for actresses, so she decides to become an actress (using acting lessons by mail). Slapstick antics are persistent throughout the film- there's one scene where Jenny takes over Orme's pancake stand that is very funny. The ending scenes are also a hoot.

Will love triumph over paper idols? You'll have to see this film to find out.

Swanson was a unique looking woman, with those unique light-coloured eyes, so it's funny that Orme doesn't realize that she may be a catch sooner.

The first and last scenes are shot in two-strip technicolour, and pretty well at that. The opening has Swanson, as an actress (in a daydream) doing a Salome impersonation.

Excellent Gloria Swanson comedy about a hapless waitress (Swanson) who'll do anything to catch the eye of handsome wheat-cake flipper (Lawrence Gray), who calls her "Mouse." Film starts out with a beautiful 2-strip Technicolor fantasy that depicts Swanson's daydreams about being a great actress. She is seen is a series of fabulous costumes, playing greats parts like Salome. As the red-haired Salome bends to kiss the cold dead lips of John (on a silver platter) the film switches to B&W as the platter turns into a tray covered by plates of steaming food. Swanson is trying to work thru the diner throngs to deliver the food.

The plot revolves around her crazy stunts in an attempt to attract Gray. But after the river show boat steams into town with a glamorous actress (Gertrude Astor) Swanson is determined to get on the stage. With the help of the boat owner (Ford Sterling) she finally gets her wish and is billed as the Masked Marvel in of all things a female boxing match.

This film is zany and fast-paced and sweet-natured and 25 years before I Love Lucy. Stage Struck is a total pleasure. Swanson is just excellent, seems to be doing all her own stunt work, and looks great. The opening color sequences are gorgeous, and the closing color sequence (happy ending of course) is a lot of fun.

It's easy to see why Swanson was so popular in the 20s.

The whole scene where Jenny and Orme end up shelling peas together thrills me. The comings and goings between the kitchen and the dining room are elaborated in the most efficient and simple way (though the striking close-up of Swanson's face peeping through the serving hatch is arguably an unfortunate choice that disrupts the balance of the scene) as if for the sole purpose of introducing the subsequent non-event, when the whirl of half-lies vanishes into the knowing tenderness of a blissful moment. Orme's gentle gesture when he takes a seat to join Jenny in the shelling party is striking for its surprising freshness and spontaneity. The lovely minute that follows is disarmingly simple, fading out in a murmur of awkward smiles and artless confidences with no superfluous coda. No room here to set up an effect, as if Dwan imprinted his signature through the absence of any commentary over what is shown. And it's not a piece of Americana, nor a cheap domestic satire; it's just Orme and Jenny being there together, with no before or after. We did not have to wait for the Nouvelle Vague to film a young couple talking about love and death in a kitchen as if they were in their home.