Amor de Índio

English cousins Dustin Farnum (as Jim) and Monroe Salisbury (as Henry) are made trustees for an orphans' fund. Mr. Salisbury has a fondness for betting on the horses, and pilfers money from the fund. For the sake of family honor, Mr. Farnum accepts responsibility for the missing funds, and sails off to America. Farnum buys a ranch, befriends the local Indians (Native Americans), and feuds with wicked William Elmer (as Cash Hawkins). When Salisbury dies, on the Swiss Alps, widow Winifred Kingston (as Diana) wants to bring Farnum home to England, but he's settled in America with Squaw Red Wing (as Nat-u-ritch)…

Due to its relatively long length, this is sometimes called the first feature film. It is also the noted as first feature filmed in Hollywood, California; but, you wouldn't know it - the Farnum ranch looks like Hollywood (check out the background), but the more memorable ship trek and heavy snowfall scenes can't be Hollywood (obviously). It's the first film by director Cecil B. DeMille, who shows some promise (in hindsight).

There are no great performances; Dustin Farnum was an important stage actor, getting acquainted with film. I thought Farnum was best and most impressive in the scenes with his "half-breed" son (who looks nothing like his Indian mother). Billy Elmer was entertaining in what should have been a larger role (Cash Hawkins). I found "The Squaw Man" confusing - some of the events and relationships are like... "fill in the blanks". The Indian/Englishman relationship was, perhaps, daring for an early film theme (if you can figure out what's going on); and, Ms. Wing was a real Winnebago Indian actress.

****** The Squaw Man (2/15/14) Cecil B. DeMille, Oscar Apfel ~ Dustin Farnum, Red Wing, William Elmer

Cecil Blount DeMille, a stage actor dabbling in playwriting, was able to secure through his mother's connections an association with Jesse Lasky, a successful Broadway vaudeville producer. The partnership proved beneficial for both in 1912, when the two rolled out a couple of financially very successful plays in New York City. DeMille, though, was tiring of the theatrical business and was catching the cinematic fever in 1913. With Lasky, Lasky's brother-in-law Samuel Goldfish (later Goldwyn) and several East Coast businessmen, DeMille became part of the newly-formed Jesse L. Lasky Feature Play Company. The production company would concentrate on longer feature films, with its first one scheduled to be an adapted 1905 play called "The Squaw Man."

DeMille, who never directed a movie before, was assigned the directorship duties alongside veteran director Oscar Apfel. Together with camera/lighting/set designer crews and actors, the pair journeyed to Flagstaff, Arizona, to shoot the Western. After a few exterior shots in the mountains, however, they soon realized the small town was inferior to the look they wanted. They then boarded the train for Los Angeles, a growing community of filmmakers.

DeMille realized the perfect spot to produce "The Squaw Man" was the nearby town of Hollywood. He rented a barn on the corner of Selma and Vine Streets, converting it into a simple film studio for interior shots and editing (Paramount Pictures moved the barn in 1926 and is now the Hollywood Heritage Museum). Although not the first movie made in Hollywood--that honor goes to D. W. Griffith's 1910 short "In Old California, --"The Squaw Man" became the first feature film to be produced in Hollywood, 74 minutes in length.

DeMille was a quick learner while observing Apfel directing the cast and crew. He began to assume more directorial duties as the filming went into the final third week.

Before the production, the Lasky Company realized they needed a big star to attract viewers to "The Squaw Man." Lasky offered popular stage actor Dustin Farnum either up to $5,000 to be in the film, a pretty good chunk of money in those days, or a percentage of the Lasky Company (reportedly 25%). The actor took the money, but ultimately gave up millions since the small studio would eventually become a big part of the future mega- movie company Paramount Pictures.

While the movie crew was busily traveling and filming "The Squaw Man," Goldfish (Goldwyn) was criss-crossing the country selling the rights of the movie to exhibitors before it was released to the public. This became the first time a motion picture rights had been pre-sold before its production had been completed.

"The Squaw Man" made a ton of money for Lasky's company, profiting almost $250,000 in 1914. DeMille would go on and direct two remakes of the story, in 1918 and a sound movie in 1931.

This is an adaptation of a stage play--an awful melodrama, which incorporates the Western and flirts with taboo love--adultery and miscegenation. Apparently, Oscar Apfel was doing poorly at teaching Cecil B. DeMille how to direct; there's plenty of outside filming, which is supposed to be a benefit of California, yet this movie is remarkably inept in how the framing of outside scenes is as theatrical as the scenes inside. Of course, it was a commercial success, leading DeMille to remake it twice, and is now a footnote in film history. Probably of more consequence than it being a feature-length film made in Hollywood, unoriginal reinforcement though it was, is the movie's soap opera histrionics coupled with a Caucasian playing a Native-American.

The actors of this movie protrude what their characters would be doing or feeling via gestures, staring at nothing and other magnified histrionics; they're trying to communicate the plot to the audience despite silence and a distanced camera. There's no realism, subtlety, nor, even, characters. The directors and actors of "The Squaw Man" blunder further by misunderstanding the silence concept. Silent films are silent to us, but the fictional world within a silent film is usually not silent. (Likewise, we still hear the music scores in modern films while the characters in the fictional world don't.) In this film, there are some awkward moments when a character lingers behind unnoticed, or is transparently suspicious-looking, but that happens to be when everyone is looking at something else. Yet, I suppose they still do that in soap operas.

In defence of DeMille, it was his first film, and senior director Apfel surely deserves more blame. One learns from imitation, and there weren't many worth imitating then. There was no indication in "The Adventures of Dolly" that Griffith would become the best director in the world. To see DeMille's potential, watch the subsequent year's "The Cheat". Its story is also wanting, flirts with adultery and miscegenation and is driven by embezzlement from charity, but, otherwise, the films couldn't be more different.

A western with dull if bleak scenery and costumes that look mighty strange (though doubtless the real items), this is an interesting example of early film-making, but one that will delight mainly critics and historians rather than the general movie fan.

The dated, old-hat story is a little difficult to follow at first because the two cousins, James and Henry, are understandably lookalikes, and neither actor has the skills to differentiate himself. In fact, it's hard to believe that stolid Dustin Farnum had a big stage reputation as he displays little charisma or ability here. However, he doubtless improved because he made another forty movies before retiring in 1926. (He married his leading lady here, Winifred Kingston, in 1924).

The rest of the players run rings around Farnum in "The Squaw Man". Red Wing is reasonably effective as the real heroine of the piece, but it's personable Dick LaReno, here making his first of 81 movies, who really impresses as our hero's foreman—not the sheriff who is played by either Dick Palace or W.H. Stratton. And I think that's Art Acord playing the deputy. It's hard to tell because there are no close-ups. Each scene is filmed with either a static long shot or medium group shot. And there is virtually no camera movement apart from a few slight pans.

... And the first feature-length movie made in Los Angeles. A British former soldier named James (Dustin Farnum) is blamed when a lot of money is embezzled from the military widows and orphans fund. It was actually James's cousin Henry (Monroe Salisbury), but James gets the blame and goes on the run to the US, while Henry inherits an ancestral title and becomes nobility. James ends up in Wyoming, where he buys a ranch, falls for native girl Nat-U-Rich (Lillian St. Cyr), and runs into trouble with local bad guy Cash Hawkins (William Elmer). Also featuring Winifred Kingston, Baby Carmen De Rue, Joseph Singleton, Raymond Hatton, and Hal Roach.

This is as creaky as one would expect, with primitive filming techniques (most scenes are framed like a stage play, and are usually one continuous shot), and wild pantomime acting. Farnum and St. Cyr are a bit thicker in the middle than most screen stars. My favorite moments include one scene where someone falls off the side of a mountain (a bad dummy is used to humorous effect) and the people who rush to help him do so by rubbing his hands; a scene in which our hero is overcome by the poisonous gases of the "Death Hole"; and a scene where a small child is placed on a horse, given a pistol, and then urged to shoot, which the kid does, seemingly into the back of the horse's head (thank goodness for blanks).