The Whispering Chorus

DeMille's Whispering Chorus is a haunting masterpiece that was ahead of it's time. The story line is highly creative - how the voices in your head can ruin your life. Basically, one man's degradation due to his cowardliness. This movie will make you think, which is exactly what DeMille intended. All in all, an excellent pre-20's silent film.

Raymond Hatton gives a fine performance as John Tremble. His change from a handsome upstanding man to a dirty tramp on the run is wonderfully done through make up - if compare a still of him from the first section of the film to a still from the end of the picture, he is almost unrecognizable as the same actor.

Kathryn Williams was a very attractive woman, and she portrays the role of Jane Tremble with delicacy. My personal opinion is that at the end of the movie, she acts in a very selfish manner, however, I think this is my 21st century eyes viewing early 20th century morals and is probably not the effect that DeMille, or screen writer Jeanie MacPhearson had in mind.

Thanks to Image entertainment, this 1918 film is available on DVD for new audiences to enjoy.

It's interesting how demille studied the market and constantly sabotaged his own films for better sales when that wasn't really a thing back then between directors/producers. Im sure all the erotic,promiscuous, submission, branding and sacrifice scenes sold well back then and they would today. I'm not saying you cant have them but in demille's films they make no sense and are there simply to sell more tickets. I don't know why i liked his 1910s films cause having watched them again, they're incredibly stupid. Carmen would be better without carmen. So is male and female without the male female aspect. The squaw man and the virginian are boring and amateurish and it's a miracle they were received that well but its clear why they were.

Which brings us to the whispering chorus which is actually pretty good until the last 20-30min. Other than the characters that have no progression or change (john is the dumbass, and others are the kind good people all throughout), The story has some focus unlike his other films during the teens that jump between many different unrelated subjects (usually bold and controversial ones like miscegenation, heredity, sexual submission, racism, ... ) and the disjointed parts come together naturally. But like the rest, it goes downhill on a pathetic attempt to end on a high note and have the audience leave satisfied.

I knew the film would end with a "sacrifice" without even watching it. Why? Because all his 1910s films have a heroic sacrifice that's incredibly insanely stupid. His first film, the squaw man 1914, ends both parts of the story with a sacrifice. Male and female, old wives for new and .... have one too. The cheat 1915 ends with a double back to back sacrifice as if the asian guy was the villain here.

And in the whispering chorus, you guessed it, another super stupid sacrifice where john dies to save jane. Save jane from what?!!! Her hardships (if there'd be any) are nothing compared to his death. The dramatization of her supposed problems is idiotic. Each scene here is idiotic in context because they were made independent of one another without thinking about the overall film. And how are you gonna have a film called "the whispering chorus" that starts with a poem about it and not consider that maybe killing an innocent man would hunt her for the rest of her life!

I don't think a film is good/bad because i agree/disagree with its message or even not having any message. But when the morals are the focus of your films and you're incapable of conveying them because you had to add these scenes to sell more tickets, then the film is bad based on what it wanted to achieve.

The Whispering Chorus is one of a number of standout films in Cecil B. DeMille's 1910s output, and for some marks the end of an era in his work. It is also perhaps the darkest and most noir-ish story he ever dealt with.

Dark stories call for bleak imagery, and visuals are particularly stark here – plenty of barren sets or large areas of darkness. Furthermore with the psychological conflict going on DeMille makes heavy use of superimpositions. DeMille had always used these a lot to literalise products of his characters' imaginations, but here he goes a bit overboard and occasionally they are unnecessary. The eponymous whispering chorus (which is pretty much superfluous to the story anyway) is shown as a cloud of floating heads – not really necessary when the actors alone competently convey the anguish that their characters feel.

Although he is not really known for it, DeMille was probably the best director of actors during this period (as opposed to his sound films which tend to be wall-to-wall ham). It is not only that he seems to have encouraged a satisfactory blend of realism and dramatism, it was also his use of long, unbroken takes and intelligent framing of actors. In The Whispering Chorus his handling of more emotional scenes is particularly sensitive, cutting to close-ups at key moments to highlight an actor's face. DeMille also tends to keep the sets Spartan and uncluttered for a poignant scene, allowing the audience to concentrate solely on the performers.

Let's take a closer look at the lead actor. The first thing that strikes you about Raymond Hatton is what a thin face he has, and how he seems to have a permanent disappointed expression. But look beyond that, and you can see he is actually a pretty good actor – certainly better than his co-star Kathlyn Williams. Hatton is one of a number of silent stars who drifted out of the spotlight only to turn up absolutely everywhere as a character actor in the sound era – he is quite memorable as the "murderous impulses" barber in Fritz Lang's Fury. He made dozens of appearances for DeMille, but The Whispering Chorus is his greatest moment, both in terms of the demands placed on him as an actor and the performance he turns in.

Some have labelled this as the last film in which DeMille kept his artistic integrity before giving way to commercialism. This is not really true, as pleasing the audience had always been top of his agenda, and his subsequent films do not differ a whole lot in style, although he would use superimpositions a lot less from here on, which is a good thing. It is true however that his next picture, Old Wives for New, marks the beginning of a series of rather lightweight marital comedies, after which his work would be full of the piety and sensationalism with which he is now associated.

Whatever the case, The Whispering Chorus stands as one of DeMille's greatest accomplishments. It does overuse those superimposed images, but this is really the only complaint. Underneath that is a strong and very grim drama. Noir-ish and dark, yes, but it has a poignant, bittersweet edge, hitting a lot of the same notes as George Stevens' A Place in The Sun.

Cecil B. DeMille himself described this early feature as one of the first 'psychological' films ever made, but it's actually a more-or-less typical late-Victorian Age cautionary fable, expressed (as might be expected) with a heavy dose of morality and melodrama. The story shows how a single moment of weakness (in this case the desperate embezzlement of $1,000 by a poverty-stricken bookkeeper) will ultimately lead to misfortune, and worse. Haunted by a guilty conscience, the long-suffering victim gambles away (in the following order) his savings, his self-respect, his family, and finally his own identity. Reduced at last to a penniless, crippled vagrant, he is finally arrested and, after a series of misunderstandings, charged with his own murder! Most of the heavy-handed exposition and delivery is hilarious when seen today, and the inadvertent humor kills the lingering impact of the film's often striking (for 1918) visual artistry.

This 82 minute silent film directed by Cecil B. DeMille was somewhat ahead of its time, being a serious attempt to film a drama of conscience in all its harrowing complexities. The 'whispering chorus' of the title consists of the rival impulses of the anti-hero, John Tremble, who is played by Raymond Hatton. A filmic device was used which may seem corny to us today, but at the time was doubtless very effective and perhaps innovative, namely the appearance on screen of diaphanous heads of good and bad people whispering to Tremble in his ear things like 'go ahead and do it' or 'an honourable person would not do such a thing'. Tremble is a man who is a bit too narcissistic for his own good, which is all too familiar to us today with the rise of smart phones from which people cannot extract their noses. Preoccupation with 'self' to the exclusion of all else has possibly become today's main social psychological problem. But in 1918 this ailment was still in its traditional form, known as selfishness. Tremble gives way to the bad voices of his whispering choruses and because he feels so sorry for himself and his lack of a new overcoat, steals some money from his employer. He has previously gambled away his last few dollars and staged a petulant scene at home in front of the miniature Christmas tree and his long-suffering wife and mother, tossing aside their small presents as being insignificant. Such spoilt-brat behaviour is bound to lead to doom, and as doom is always eagerly waiting for people to fall into it (as it has an insatiable maw) the anti-hero duly sinks into hopeless moral compromise. He disdains what he has got, namely a devoted wife and happy home, and wants what he cannot readily have except by theft. But then his theft is discovered and, to avoid going to jail, he fakes his own death and absconds to Cincinnati. (All of the action takes place in cities along the river, though the only locations we see are waterside ones.) He lives the life of a labourer and vagabond, becomes maimed and disfigured, and has a very rough time. Meanwhile his wife (played by Kathlyn Williams) has obtained a well paid job and after some years remarries a man who becomes the Governor of his state (played by Elliot Dexter). Tremble, having 'killed himself', then ironically ends up being caught many years later and charged with his own murder, as he is assumed to be the other man (whose body he had fished out of the river dead, and had not killed). All the complications one can imagine result from this state of affairs. The film is thus a very early 'film noir'. It is certainly not cheerful viewing. This film was preserved and restored by my old friend Dave Shepard, who died earlier this year. I would like to pay tribute to him, as a genuine hero of the history of the cinema. We knew each other when we were young. By a strange coincidence, when I was seventeen I independently met and befriended the stage actor John Griggs, one of the most passionate early collectors and preservers of old movies. It was only afterwards that I met Dave. It turned out that John Griggs had been Dave's mentor from the time he was a boy, as they lived near each other in New Jersey. I may be the only person left alive now who knew John Griggs, who was himself such a delightful and amusing man and enthusiast for early cinema. He had amassed over the decades a gigantic collection of 35mm prints of silent films, and this collection passed to Dave, giving him a huge head start in his career as a film preservationist. I well remember a short documentary film which Dave directed in his early twenties about children's games. He shot it mostly in a playground on 16mm in black and white and made a serious effort to understand children's mentality. It was very charming. He was always basically a sentimentalist. That film is not listed at IMDb, and I have forgotten its title. I am certain it was never distributed, and Dave was n t satisfied with it; indeed, I liked it better than he did. This DeMille film is not included in the partial list of restorations by Dave in his Wikipedia entry, but then he restored so many, there is probably no complete list of them in existence. Who knows, maybe the original print came from John Griggs. Dave and I used to discuss Eisenstein, Buster Keaton, and D. W. Griffith endlessly, and also foreign films. It was René Clément's FORBIDDEN GAMES (1952), which we both so greatly admired, which inspired Dave to want to make his own little documentary about children's games. All true cinema lovers owe a debt to Dave Shepard which they can only repay by watching as many as possible of the films which Dave loved so much and to which he dedicated his life to save and preserve for others to enjoy. Here's to you, Dave.