Trindade Maldita

The only reason I decided to watch this was because this was Lon Chaney Sr.'s only talkie movie as he'd untimely die after this came out. I had not seen his previous silent one and while I had the option to also check that out from my local library, I just decided to see this version, for now. It's not bad as an early sound film and I appreciated the humor of some scenes but, like others commenting here, I did have trouble hearing some of the little person Harry Earles' words when he spoke them as well as that of the strongman played by Ivan Linow. Lila Lee wasn't bad as the pickpocket-turned-betrayer Rosie and neither was Elliott Nugent as her eventual boyfriend though he had more success when he turned director of various Bob Hope comedies. It was also a nice surprise that part of this film took place on Christmas Eve since the holiday just passed as you can tell by the date of this review. Oh, and yes, Lon was fine voice-wise whether doing his own or that of an old woman when wearing a disguise and also as a dummy's voice when throwing it as well as a parrot. Maybe a haunting music score could have helped in some scenes but overall, this version of The Unholy Three was good enough that I say this is worth a look.

Indeed, Lon Chaney was the man of a thousand faces, a make-up genius so ahead of his time that "three quarters of a century later" well accomplished professionals are still to be awed at the visual effects he compassed. Sadly, for most, he will always be remembered as Erick, the Phantom and Quasimodo. However, Chaney was much than just a horror actor and a pioneer of many stage make-up techniques; he was a gifted actor, as well as, a matchless performer and person. He was an incredibly skilled actor and, thankfully, The Unholy Three (1930) let's us actually see that.

In this film, Chaney did five voices; those of a parrot, an old woman, a girl, a ventriloquist, and the ventriloquist's dummy. His voice work was such that he had to sign a notarized statement largely as a publicity stunt, attesting to his versatile voice work in The Unholy Three. While the film is notable as a vehicle for the actor's vocal gymnastics, the story of this talkie version of the 1925 version is pretty much identical to the silent, but with a few exceptions: As a talkie, The Unholy Three is a bit less gripping by the sounds becoming explicit, as well as, lacking much of the macabre horror the silent version featured. Mae Busch is replaced by the far better Lila Lee, who was not only better as the roll of Rosie but much prettier as well. However, Victor Mclagen who played Hercules in the silent version was much better than his replacement, Ivan Linow. As far as, Harry Earles is concerned, his voice is completely incomprehensible. Not to mention, the man sitting behind the chair is no longer Tod Browning, but in fact, Jack Conway. Also, at the climax (differing much from the silent version), Mrs. O'Grady appears in court to testify on Hector's behalf. Under the strain of the cross-examination, Echo's voice cracks, and the prosecuting attorney pulls off his wig. Echo's subsequent confession clears Hector, but Echo is sent to prison. In the tearfully painful final scene, Hector and Rosie wave goodbye as Echo is sent off to prison by train.

The question that will forever remain, is if Chaney had lived, what else would he have accomplished? My guess is he would've easily conquered the movement in Hollywood toward more complicated make-up techniques, making any such effects icon look rather amateurish. Perhaps several nominations, maybe even an Oscar winner! He certainly would've played Count Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, The Mummy, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. If that were the case, what would ever come of such actors like Fredric March, Bela Lugosi, and Boris Karloff who became famous from playing their landmark Monster roll? He undoubtedly could've played anything and been anyone he wanted. His abilities were far beyond any actor of his or any other era. Unfortunately, out of 150+ films Chaney appeared in, less than 50 survived, and all we really have left of this brilliant, phenom of a talent are the monster movies that made him famous. Chaney was known for much more, for comedy and drama. In fact, he was also a highly skilled dancer, director, writer, singer, and comedian. And yet it was cancer that took him from film just as he proved he could successfully speak within the new realm of sound.

Lon Chaney could have been, perhaps, the greatest actor of all time, though, with much of his work missing, it's still justifiable that he is and beyond all the thousands of faces, there was one true Chaney: an incredibly gifted artist. Too bad we don't get to see it more often.

THE UNHOLY THREE (MGM, 1930), directed by Jack Conway, offers a moment of truth for 1930 audiences and film enthusiasts today in witnessing what silent film legend Lon Chaney had never done before on screen - to be heard as well as seen. Between 1928 and 1929, movie goers were given the opportunity to hear their favorite silent stars speaking on screen for the first time. Some succeeded, others did not. Chaney and Greta Garbo were MGM's final holdouts, each making the transition to sound by 1930, while the great comic, Charlie Chaplin held out the longest, making his talking debut in  THE GREAT DICTATOR (1940). Of all the silent screen performers, Chaney was something of a curiosity. The question is, "How would the man who created such legendary characters as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" (1923) or "The Phantom of the Opera," (1925)  sound on film?" For THE UNHOLY THREE, the wait wasn't very long. Minutes after the opening credits, the voice of Chaney is finally heard, with his first words being "Thank you, doctor. Thank you." For his role as a ventriloquist, Chaney offers his audience the opportunity to get to listen to his many voices as he did during the silent era with his many faces. Even for a talkie, Chaney continues to express himself with facial gestures as he did in the silent era, which comes off to best advantage.

The story opens where Professor Echo (Chaney), a sideshow performer, entertains with his ventriloquist act. He is accompanied by Hercules, the strong man (Ivan Linow), Tweeledee (Harry Earles), the midget, and his girlfriend, Rosie O'Grady (Lila Lee), who roams around the crowd picking the pockets from observant patrons. Following a police raid that puts the Brandon's Old-Fashioned Museum out of business, the next scene reveals Echo planning a new racket with his associates, working as thieves in the night. As "The Unholy Three," Echo disguises himself as a kindly old lady who owns "Mrs. O'Grady's Bird Shop"; Rosie as "her granddaughter"; Tweeledee plays the baby in the cradle; and Hercules as Granny's son-in-law and baby's uncle. For security reasons, Echo takes his pet gorilla from the sideshow, keeping him in the back room in case any of his partners in crime, particularly Hercules, decides to betray them. Also among "The Unholy Three" is Hector MacDonald (Elliott Nugent), a young student studying to become an architect who's obtained a position in the bird shop in order to be near Rosie, unaware that her "relatives" are a gang of thieves. When Echo discovers Rosie's love for the young man, he decides to make Hector the fall guy by making him the prime suspect, causing his arrest for the series of crimes and murder while the gang seeks refuge in a cabin out in the country, with Rosie being held against her will.

First filmed in 1925 that also featured Chaney and Harry Earles, with Mae Busch and Victor McLaglen as Rosie and Hercules, the same roles enacted here by the lesser known names of Lila Lee and Ivan Linow, who make fine, though not entirely great substitutes. While Chaney's voice(s) are articulate and clear, Earles is often hard to comprehend. Aside from this, Earles' character comes off both annoying and unlikable, which is probably the way he's supposed to be in the first place, being an instigator tempting Hercules to do things against his will. Hercules may be a strong man, but comes across as weak, considering his fear towards Echo's gorilla as well as failing to stand for himself against both Echo and Tweeledee.

Twelve minutes shorter than the original, with certain scenes slightly altered or eliminated altogether, everything appears to occur very quickly, with detailed actions described in words than depicted with extended scenes. Director Jack Conway makes several attempts in duplicating Tod Browning's style as presented for the 1925 version. The use of silhouetted images of "The Unholy Three" as they gather together planning their latest caper is revised, along with elements of surprise and suspense where a police inspector (Clarence Burton) plays around with the baby's toy elephant where the stolen necklace is actually hidden, and another at the trial where Echo plants a note for Hector to read, only to watch him toying with it instead. Aside from these revised highlights, only the ending differs from the original, for reasons explained in the TV documentary "Lon Chaney, a Thousand Faces" (2000). Comparing these films, each presented on Turner Classic Movies, it's sometimes hard to determine which is the better of the two, yet, the ending used for the remake is more in a logical sense. See and judge for yourself.

Although Chaney did became a success with his initial talkie, this was to be his one and only. Shortly after its completion, Chaney succumbed to cancer. Aside from Chaney's famous line, "That's all there is to life, folks, just a little laugh, a little tear," used in both movies, he finished his long and successful career with these final words, "I'll send you a postal card." The legend of Chaney ends here. The success and curiosity to THE UNHOLY THREE rests entirely on the man and the legend, even more so with this, his last hurrah. (***)

Why this wonderfully crazy film from 1930 isn't more readily available is a total sin. Of course, THE UNHOLY THREE (1930) is most famed for the only time we can hear the great silent horror star Lon Chaney speak. When he speaks, this rather gruff, but ordinary voice comes out. I sat there thinking "That's Quasimoto, Eric the Phantom, Dead Legs Flint, and that's what Dracula would of sounded like if Chaney lived to get the part? Wow!")

The film is really out of control. Three out of work circus performers (Chaney, midget Harry Earles and strongman Ivan Linow) decide to become a trio of jewel thieves. Midget Earles has the best dialog, delivered in a squeaky voice- "I like it" (meaning the plan) "It's unholy!" This motley trio decide to disquise themselves very outlandishly (Chaney as an old woman, Earles as a cooing baby) They couldn't just lay low, or take assumed names? They had to resort this sort of lunacy? Lila Lee is also a wonderful treat here. Why didn't she do more talkies?

As all Lon Chaney fans know, this was Lon's first talkie, and what a talkie it was. The dialogue was a little rusty at times (mostly from the midget), but the presence of Chaney added much more excitement because it was probably the first time that the public had ever heard him speak (his lifestyle was very secluded and he was a fairly private person, so it's possible that his biggest fans of the time only saw him on-screen, never in public). He had a very good voice, although if he had lived long enough to play Dracula, I'm not sure if I could picture that. I can see him in costume, but not with the kind of voice he had. It seems very symbolic in a way. He had not spoken by word of mouth in the 153 pictures he did before this one, but each performance he had had a new face with a new voice and/or message each time (thus the title "man of a thousand faces"!). When he made this picture, however, the only real "voice" and "face" he had left, was his own voice! It was better than I expected. Chaney plays the same kind of character he did in pictures like "The Penalty" (1920) and, "The Ace of Hearts" (1921); a violent minded individual who is willing to go to any lengths for what he believes in or for love, even if it means doom for others around or working for him or for himself. There is much tension between the characters, but not as much as everyone seems to have with Tweedle-Dee. A circus midget is one thing (I have nothing against them), a circus midget with an attitude is another. JEEZE! The main reason why I like this picture so much is that it is an important record of a screen legend who was ready to step up, did, and succeeded immensely. It is also a reminder that you can never underestimate an actor, especially Lon Chaney. If you challenge an actor to do something you think they can't do, 9 out of 10 times, they will do it, do it well, show you up, and get RICH! PLENTY RICH!