Brennan of the Moor

This a three-reel production, featuring Barney Gilmore, who plays the title role to good effect. He is ably seconded by the others in the cast. The story is that of "Brennan of Moor," a breezy, witty Irish outlaw who "stole from the rich to give to the poor," having been driven to this kind of life by persecutions of the English, which robbed him of his estate and his father. Barney's adventures are amusing and startlingly interesting. Two incidents commend themselves particularly. They relate to Barney's escape from prison. In the first his cell is flooded with water and he barely escapes drowning. This scene is well done. In the second he presses three roadside athletes into service for a human bridge on which he crosses a stream to elude pursuers. This is a striking expedient. But Barney's whole record as a highwayman will command attention and a warm sympathy for him. The play is worthy of being featured. - The Moving Picture World, September 6, 1913

Apparently William Brennan, of "Brennan of the Moor," is a figure of late-19th-century Irish folklore. Like the English Robin Hood, he's said to have stolen from the rich and given to the poor, or a supposedly heroic highwaymen or robber in the tradition of Claude Duval, Jesse James, or Bonnie and Clyde. Besides films, the legendary ballad is said to have even inspired Bob Dylan's song "Ramblin' Gamblin' Willie," as based on The Clancy Brothers' version of the titular theme.

Regardless, like Robin Hood, Brennan has his Maid Marian princess love interest, too, in Lady Betty Lorrequer. Indeed, for a supposed philanthropist thief, we sure see Brennan spending a lot of time socializing with the wealthy--and no time with the poor (only the title cards tell us otherwise). I suppose the joke here is that the portly actor playing the eponymous role provides his own Little John. Not that I'm necessarily opposed to an overweight swashbuckling hero, but the picture going out of its way to highlight how out of shape he is for the role--we're supposed to believe he switches clothes with two smaller men at one point and, later, a slenderer stunt double is conspicuously employed for the character supposedly walking across a human bridge--in addition to the actor's distinct lack of charm (the one, brief sword fight being particularly pathetic) decidedly mark him as no Douglas Fairbanks (or Errol Flynn, if you prefer, and if you prefer a Costner, Crowe or Egerton, you can go to hell).

"Brennan of the Moor" is a three-reel production, which was an increasingly common format in American filmmaking, including at Solax were this one was made. Although the world's first female filmmaker, Alice Guy, is said to have supervised all the productions at the company, Solax, she owned, this one's direction is usually attributed to Edward Warren (who also directed the two-reel "The Sewer," as well as maybe the one-reel "Algie, the Miner" (both 1912)). Alison McMahan (in her book "Alice Guy Blaché: Lost Visionary of the Cinema") casts doubt on this credit, though, stating that it's unknown whether Warren or Guy's husband, Herbert Blaché, directed it. It seems that at some point Warren left Solax when Mr. Blaché became more involved in the studio.

Anyways, "Brennan of the Moor" appreciably makes use of natural settings as opposed to the flimsy artificial sets of such other longer Solax films as "The Sewer" and "Dick Whittington and His Cat" (1913), although, still, a bit of sets from "The Sewer" are reused here for one of the film's two secret passages. (A good thing to remember if you ever find yourself stuck in a tricky melodrama situation: look for a secret passage.) I also like the symmetry of Brennan's father drowning to death, and, then, him facing the same prospect. A couple scenes make decent use of depth of field, including one set with multiple doorways in a row. On the other hand, there are too many overly descriptive title cards in the dated tableau tradition, with the tendency being towards telling instead of showing, or at least telling before showing. Some of the blocking is awkward, and a bit of modern-looking architecture and design makes its way on film. Some of the supposed flaws are rather humorous, though, including Brennan taking two men behind the bushes to, we're told at least, change outfits with them, and the bizarre incident with the acrobats making a human bridge after they're discovered in a field practicing jumping over each other in tights, as one does, I suppose. Then, there's the stunt doubles and a substitution-splice for a dummy falling off a cliff.

A rather enjoyable adventure if not for the lousy sword fight and dated filmmaking slowing it down. I'm reminded how much these national vigilante figures and masked bandits were influential in creating what eventually became our modern-day culture of comic-book superheroes. Your Robin Hoods, Zorros and Counts of Monte Cristo disguising themselves to soak the rich, more or less. Now, there's multinational conglomerate tech overlords like Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne... We might've missed something along the way.