Os Quatro Cavaleiros do Apocalipse

THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE bring the devastation of the Great War to two Argentine sisters, one married to a Frenchman, the other to a German.

It is a shame that this wonderful film is remembered now almost solely for Rudolph Valentino's first scene, in which he dances a sensual tango. This sequence, which appears in the opening half hour, was enough to put Valentino on the movie map as an important young actor and paved the way for more libidinous roles in the future, but the film is about so much more than just a tango.

World War One had only ended in 1918, barely three years before FOUR HORSEMEN was released. The effects of the War - maimed men and fatherless children - were everywhere, and much devastation still remained in Europe. Director Rex Ingram took Vicente Blasco Ibáñez' novel and turned it into a powerful & disturbing anti-war polemic. The imagery of the Four Horsemen, riding across the screen, becomes a compelling symbol of man's inhumanity.

Although Valentino gets the attention now - and his performance is very fine, showing his character's maturity after encountering the War's harsh realities - he's not the actual star of the film. Equal kudos should also extend to Josef Swickard playing his French father, who dominates lengthy stretches of the story as he frantically reacts to his castle's desecration by the invading Germans, including his own brutal nephew.

Alice White, Ingram's wife, is wonderful as Valentino's conflicted lover, torn between passion for him and duty to her honorable husband. She adds a very real touch of class and believability, just as she would in future films directed by Ingram.

Standouts in the cast include Pomeroy Cannon as the old 'Centaur,' Valentino's hot-blooded Spanish grandfather; Alan Hale as Valentino's stern German uncle; John St. Polis as Miss Terry's affronted spouse; and bullying Wallace Beery as a crude German officer. Gaunt Nigel de Brulier is mesmerizing in his Epiphanic role as the mysterious lodger who explains to Valentino the significance of the Four Horsemen.

Movie mavens will recognize an unbilled Jean Hersholt as Hale's bearded son. Silent star Noble Johnson portrays the first Horseman, Conquest. (Supposedly Ramon Novarro is one of the extras in the Ball scene, probably as a dancer. This is very possible, as he would become a star in Ingram's film release of the following year, THE PRISONER OF ZENDA.)

Although nearly forgotten today, Rex Ingram was an excellent director who knew how to present epic photo dramas on a large scale which did not neglect the small, telling details, such as when the sweeping vistas of the Argentinean pampas gives way to the antics of a tiny pet monkey. His impish affection for the grotesque close-up is also in evidence. Ingram worked closely with his photographer Fred Seitz to achieve the play of light & shadow which enhanced the composition. But it's the authenticity of the performances which he consistently drew from his players that never fails to impress. It should be remembered that it was only six short years since the rather stagy acting of Griffith's THE BIRTH OF A NATION. Ingram had built on the Master's foundation and built well.

THE FOUR HORSEMEN is splendid to simply look at, with its restored tints & artistic title cards. Carl Davis has graced the restoration with a splendid new score which carries the viewer along, emotionally underpinning the dramatics on screen with lilting melodies and robust orchestrations.

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The original references to the Four Horsemen can be found in The Book of Revelations (sometimes called The Apocalypse of St. John) at the end of The New Testament, Chapter 6, verses 1-8 (KJV):

And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.

And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him; and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.

And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.

And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

The image of the suave, rich Latino lover Rudolph Vanentino began with his lead role in March 1921's "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse," produced by Metro Pictures. The Italian-born actor, however, was anything but rich when he signed with Metro. The studio was notoriously cheap when it came to paying second-tier actors, which Valentino was at the time.

The role of Julio Desnoyers in "Apocalypse" required not only for him to dress as an Argentina gaucho and a French World War One soldier, but also as a civilian. Metro lent him just the first two outfits, requiring the $350 per weekly-paid Valentino to dish out of his own pocket money for 25 custom-fitted suits. The clothes bill took the actor over a year to pay off, such was the enormity of the expense. The irony is the studio made a fortune on "Apocalypse," cashing in as the number one box office hit for 1921 as well as being the sixth most profitable silent movie ever made.

Metro executive/scriptwriter June Mathis was responsible for casting Valentino in the "Apocalypse" lead. The role immediately catapulted the actor into instant stardom. Mathis had seen him in 1919's 'Eyes of Youth,' a film just before Valentino's first lead in the low budget 'The Delicious Little Devil.' Mathis convinced Metro to purchase Vicente Blasco Ibáñez's 1916 anti-war novel, 'The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.' In the book, one of its characters describes upon seeing French soldiers marching to war as having visions in Biblical terms the currents state of the world in the four horsemen symbolizing the Plague (or Conquest), War, Famine, and Death. The plot of an extended Argentinean family, one side French, the other German, eventually confronting one another on the Western Front with fatal consequences, was seen by Hollywood studios as impossible to deliver it coherently to the screen. But Mathias adapted the book into a cohesive script, impressing Metro executives.

She knew how to showcase set-pieces that created lasting impressions on viewers. Mathis introduces Valentino in a nightclub setting, where he cuts in on a couple performing the tango. He then gracefully dances with the actress Beatrice Dominguez, setting off the public craze of doing the tango as well as wearing the gaucho outfit similar to Valentino's. The actor had worked as a taxi dancer in New York City when he first immigrated from Italy, and Mathis, knowing his background, drew up the scene especially for him even though it wasn't in the novel.

Pre-World War I, an Argentinian rancher's two daughters marry a Frenchman named Desnoyers and a German named von Hartrott. Desnoyers' son Julio grows up to be a playboy, and moves to Paris to become a painter. Von Hartrott's sons go to Germany and serve the Fatherland. Julio begins an affair with a married woman, Marguerite Laurier. With the outbreak of war in France, Julio feels no responsibility to enlist, while von Hartrott's sons join the German army. Marguerite becomes a nurse for the Red Cross, and, ironically, tends to her injured husband, who was blinded in combat. Julio finally sees the light and joins the French army, and in the climax, comes face to face with one of his German cousins.

Ultimately, this is a depressing film, and somewhat emotionally draining, but it is impressive in so many ways. The cinematography is excellent, and the few battle scenes are realistic and well-staged. The biblical Four Horsemen make several appearances, with some clever trick photography. The romantic leads are fine (Terry is particularly lovely). But what made the film for me was the outstanding supporting cast, many of whom are not remembered today. Although there were so many characters it was sometimes hard to keep track of who was who, each one had an interesting storyline. Josef Swickard, as Julio's father, may well be the most pathetic character in the film. He has to suffer the humiliation of discovering his son is carrying on with a married woman. Later, his French home is virtually ransacked by the Germans. He is initially overjoyed to find that one of his nephews is a German officer, thinking this will spare him any atrocities. Fat chance. In one scene, weird even by today's standards, one of the Germans puts on a dress during a wild celebration in the house, while another officer (Wallace Beery) attempts to molest a young woman.

Alan Hale, as the senior von Hartrott, is gung-ho on having his boys serve Germany, but at the end, he is a broken man, regretting that his family ever left Argentina.

Nigel De Brulier plays a mystical character who seems to foretell what is to happen.

John St. Polis, who could easily have been cast as a villainous character, emerges as a sympathetic hero, and his later scenes with Alice Terry are quite touching.

Rudolph Valentino's breakthrough role as Julio is in some ways his best, and it's a shame that this film isn't better known to day--it has yet to be released on DVD. (Is its being relatively unknown due to its being set during World War One, a war that was soon to be eclipsed by an even worse conflict?)

The story begins in Argentina on the plantation of the slightly grotesque but fascinating Madrigal the Centaur who, with the cruel partiality of Tennessee Williams' Big Daddy, openly favours his half French grandchildren to his half German ones (referring to them as "glass-eyed carrot topped sharks"). A few years later we see him carousing with his grandson Julio, the latter in full gaucho regalia, in a disreputable café (the setting of the rightfully famous tango sequence and where Valentino treats his female partner with that distinctive mixture of suaveness and brutality that characterized many of his later roles). The Great War intrudes on everyone's lives and both families, even though they have made their home in the new world feel drawn to take sides. With regard to the conflict itself, the film takes a anti-war if not entirely neutral stance (the French are generally honourable whereas the Germans behave like, well, sharks).

A large part of the film is devoted to the decline in fortunes of Madrigal's French son-in-law after he returns to France with his family, but the most memorable portions of this part of the film are Julio's wooing of Marguerite, the unhappy wife of a much older man and Julio's reluctant entry into the war. Initially he continues his wastrel life in Paris as an artist of sorts, as indifferent as Rhett Butler to the war around him, but eventually he finds himself drawn into the conflict, not because he is anymore convinced that the war is for a good cause as that, with the casualties mounting up every day, he simply feels too ashamed to continue living his soft life as a lounge lizard. The ending relies heavily on Dickensian coincidence but is devastating nonetheless.

A few quibbles—the stranger who appears occasionally to share his dire forebodings is not quite as annoying as the preachy meddler in Blood and Sand but is still somewhat intrusive. (On the other hand I liked the imagery of the four horsemen which was all the more effective for being used sparingly and must have been particularly impressive on the big screen). Also, the film contains an extremely cringe-inducing example of comic relief—Julio's mother, to cheer up her son in the trenches, sends him his monkey in a miniature soldier's uniform, complete with helmet, bringing to this modern viewer's mind Precious, the gin-swilling orangutan nurse of the whacked out NBC soap opera, Passions. However, these are minor objections and The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse is one of the best films of the silent era.

An extended family split up in France and Germany find themselves on opposing sides of the battlefield during World War I.

Often regarded as one of the first true anti-war films, it had a huge cultural impact and became the top-grossing film of 1921, beating out Charlie Chaplin's "The Kid". The film turned then-little-known actor Rudolph Valentino into a superstar and associated him with the image of the Latin Lover. The film also inspired a tango craze and such fashion fads as gaucho pants. The film was masterminded by June Mathis, who, with its success, became one of the most powerful women in Hollywood at the time.

Despite this -- the sales, the Valentino connection, and more... this is a little-known film and one that is rarely seen. Even being preserved by the Library of Congress (which is how it got on my to-see list) has not really raised its stature much. And yet, it is a minor silent epic that could be seen as the equal of anything DeMille or Griffith put out.