Un drame au studio

I had the good fortune of seeing this film the other day in the Brussels film museum. The only names I had heard of were those of Anthony Asquith and Brian Aherne. What a discovery this unique look behind the scenes of British film-making of the twenties was!

At heart Shooting Stars is a melodrama, but what makes it special is the fact that it is set in a British film studio (plus some location work at the seaside). If you're just interested in film history, you can sit back and marvel at the scenes where several silent movies are made a the same time in one studio. While two main characters are filming a western, the third lead is filming slapstick on the neighboring set. During the location scenes it is shown how bystanders are watching scenes being shot, sometimes just feet away from the actors. That was possible in the silent days. The character of Andy Wilkes clearly references Charlie Chaplin, and - as he is anything but a happy clown or even a nice man off the set - you may wonder whether some criticism of Chaplin is meant here.

Yet, there is more. Annette Benson, Brian Aherne and Donald Calthrop create believable characters, even for viewers used to the modern acting style. There is still a bit of that slight overacting typical of the silent movies, but especially Donald Calthrop uses as little movement as possible to convey emotion. The fact that you can also see the three leads in their sightly more hysterical movie character roles helps you to appreciate the naturalistic style of the more intimate scenes. Memorable moments are Brian Aherne's enjoyment of his own film (he gets caught up, like the audience in the cinema, in the excitement of a film he made) and Annette Benson's character realizing her horrible mistake.

A third reason to watch this film is its technical quality. There's a moment where the camera follows Benson's character leave the set, walk up some stairs and visit another set. To get that focus and the lighting right, must have entailed painstaking preparations. At other times important pieces of information are framed beautifully, sometimes in the corner of the screen, in such a way that your eye is drawn to them.

Two final remarks. The film ends with a jump ahead in time, with one of the characters now a film director. Apparently Asquith didn't believe in talkies yet, because the fictional director is still making silent films in the future. And then there's Annette Benson. Her character disappears at the end of the film. When you look up Miss Benson's bio, you discover that there is no information about her after the early thirties...

I can't answer for the rest of the audience; but I went into the screening anticipating a silent comedy that was a satire on contemporary Hollywood formula drama, 1920s cinema laughing wryly at itself. And at the start of the film, that was just what we got. Ripple after ripple of laughter rolled around the auditorium, from the opening moments as the languishing heroine of the film-within-a-film attempted to kiss a dove, got roundly pecked, and swore like a trooper. (One suspects lip-readers would have a treat at this point...)

It's hard to put a finger on when the audience stopped laughing. The change is very subtle; and if, as I was, you are not expecting it, the effect is gradually almost overwhelming.

The basic plot is the stuff of comedy, or of broad melodrama -- cuckolded husband, vain and silly wife, mistaken identity, unexpected return, and a gag involving a lipstick and, of all things, a shotgun cartridge. If it were a film -- which is to say, in one of the ridiculously bad films-within-the-film -- it would be played for laughs, inadvertent or otherwise. It is, I think, a very great tribute to both the actors playing actors, and to the director of "Shooting Stars" itself, that it comes across instead as contrasting real life with celluloid performance.

What starts off as slapstick becomes, by the end, desperately unfunny. Humour and double meanings have turned to the bitterest irony. Lines that once would have raised a laugh -- "I never knew Mae had it in her," says the director admiringly as his lead actress collapses on set in guilt and horror that are all too real for the scene -- now come closer to wrenching out a twisted sob. There are two different allusions even in the black wordplay of the title.

The film walks a very fine line between comedy and tragedy. Perhaps this, above all, is what I admire most -- Julian's cheerful ignorance as Mae faints, the empty, swinging chandelier, the alluring professional smile that drains from Mae's face as she turns to wave to her celluloid lover and witnesses her real lover's approach... By the end, comedy is now longer used for laughs. It is used to point up the sting of the tragedy by robbing it of melodrama.

I think the last actual laugh among the audience came when Mae runs to forestall the owner of the approaching footsteps, only to encounter an elderly an innocent clergyman. After that, there was nothing but gasps and silence until the last frame of the film. Judging by the outbreak of coughing and seat-backs that followed -- not to mention applause -- I wasn't the only one to have been sitting frozen, holding my breath. You could have heard a pin drop.



I felt particular credit should have gone to Brian Aherne, giving a wonderful performance as matinee idol Julian in what could have proved an utterly thankless part. Julian is essentially playing straight-man to his two co-stars, as open-hearted and naive as the stereotyped cowboy hero he is being asked to act, but without audience sympathy for him his wife's antics would be little more than a harmless bedroom farce.

Aherne makes us care about Julian -- makes us genuinely like him, and wince to see him hurt. The young man finds excuses for Mae's behaviour on-set, and for her sake laughs off being trailed like luggage in his wife's wake to Hollywood; and when he wishes that Mae's tenderness when they star together could correspond more closely to their off-screen married life, it is not farcical but poignant. When we smile at his childish vanity as he cheers himself on while watching his own film, just like the two schoolboys in the neighbouring seats, it is with amused affection.

Yet Aherne can also use his height and classic good looks to startling threatening effect, as we discover in the scenes where Julian learns the truth. By the end of the film, the character has grown; and Aherne gives him well-deserved authority to hold the role.(

I watched the movies Shooting Stars and Underground because it was Brian Aherne's time as Star of the Week and I was interested to see him in silent films. I'm so glad I found them, because they were both fantastic! They're both directed by Anthony Asquith, a man with a vision far ahead of his time. Both films look like they were filmed in 1958 rather than 1928. The inventive angles, use of foreground and background, and refusal to conform to static shots were groundbreaking at the time.

In this one, Brian Aherne, Annette Benson, and Donald Calthrop play silent movie stars. There's an incredible shot that shows different sets filming on the same lot. In modern movies, we're used to seeing such a depiction of a silent movie studio, but in 1928, it was a thrill to show audiences what it was really like. Brian and Annette are married, but Annette isn't happy. She's a diva and finds excitement with Donald, who plays a Charlie Chaplin-esque slapstick star. Will their affair cause a scandal and damage their careers? Will Brian find out? This drama will keep you on the edge of your seat, even though no one speaks a word. It's extremely entertaining and riveting, and Asquith's directing is a marvel. You've got to watch one of his movies (or preferably more) to see his fantastic talent.

DLM Warning: If you suffer from vertigo or dizzy spells, like my mom does, this movie might not be your friend. When the stunt double starts riding his bicycle, look away for about a minute since there are some handheld shots that will make you sick. In other words, "Don't Look, Mom!"

Superb silent film that offers a "backstage" look at filmmaking in Britain at the end of the silent era. Story centers on a married couple who are starring in "Prairie Love." He (Brian Aherne) is a rather dopey leading man who is totally unaware of his wife's (Annette Benson) bitchy temperament or her affair with a low-comic movie star (Donald Calthrop).

When Aherne is scheduled for some on-location filming, Benson wastes no time to giving Calthrop her apartment key. But the shooting schedule is changed. When a stunt double is killed on another on-location shoot, Benson assumes her lover is dead, but....

After Benson (as Mae Feather) finally gets her comeuppance and loses her contract to go to Hollywood, there's a powerful and bittersweet ending with Benson as a lowly extra and Aherne as a powerful director.

Filled with astonishing lighting and camera work and boasting excellent performance by Benson and Aherne, this film gets progressively mesmeric as it spins its story. Co-stars include Chili Bouchier as Winnie and Wally Patch as the prop man.

In a bizarre parallel to this film's ending, Annette Benson would herself disappear after two failed attempts at talkies in 1931. There is virtually no biographical information available on this star actress.

BFI recently issued a BLU/DVD restoration of this superb film.

An early silent from Anthony Asquith, who displays enormous creativity in the way he sets shots up. The story might take a while to get going, but it builds to a thrilling crescendo before calming down for a poignant ending. Only the casting of the two male leads is a little off.