Nomads of the North

This movie shouldn't be looked at for any redeeming social value or higher meaning. It's a rip-roaring melodrama that makes you cheer the good guys and boo the bad guys. Chaney overacts horribly (but deliciously) as Challoner and Stone is suitably stoic as the Mountie forced to track Chaney down. Macdonald is the man who tries to steal Blythe's virtue. It looks like they had a lot of fun making this one. They just don't make movies like this anymore: they either make the lampoon too obvious or take themselves too damned seriously.

Adapted for the screen for his own production company from his 1919 novel of the same name by James Oliver Kurwood, it comes as little surprise that Kurwood's book was later filmed by Disney (much changed) as 'Nikki, Wild Dog of the North' in 1961.

Chaney completists, take heed, his role is billed third, although he actually has more screen time than top-billed Lewis S. Stone (as he is indentified in the credits); the real stars being Walter L. Griffin's superb outdoor photography, the cute team of a bear called Neewa and his four-legged friend Brimstone, and leading lady Betty Blythe; in roughly that order.

The rather one-note positivity of Chaney's role has been the subject of complaints; but this was still early days and he hadn't yet become as closely associated with macabre melodrama as he soon would. I found it refreshing to see him looking so dashing and handsome and getting the girl at the end. (Usually when you see Chaney looking this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed it's at the start of a flashback and something TERRIBLE promptly happens to him; it's nice to see him get a break for once.)

If it weren't Lewis Stone week at Hot Toasty Rag, and if I didn't have my heart set on reviewing the oldest movie of his I could get my hands on, I would not have sat through Nomads of the North. Now I finally understand why people today don't like silent movies. It's nearly two hours, extremely boring, predictable, and very overacted.

Betty Blythe stars as the woman on the mountaintop that every man in the movie wants. She's also the only woman in the movie, so they don't appear to have much choice. Ranger Lewis Stone is in love with her and hikes miles out of his way just to call on her at home. The wealthy, and evil, log baron Francis McDonald is also in love with her, but Betty refuses his offer of marriage because she's waiting for her old boyfriend, Lon Chaney, to come back to her. Francis pays a stranger to tell Betty that he witnessed Lon's death, but Lon comes back to town just in time to object at their wedding ceremony. Betty and Lon are married, but when he accidentally kills a man, they go on the run in the wilderness.

Folks, you don't have to rent this movie. I watched it for you, so you can just pretend you've seen it. I've never seen a Lon Chaney movie, but it's clear I picked the wrong one to start with. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and not hold Nomads of the North against him during the next movie I see. He has a pet bear cub he cuddles and plays with as well as kisses, but that's not worth sitting through nearly two hours. This is one of those silent movies that give the others a bad reputation.

Lon Chaney stars as the handsome hero in this one (was The Penalty the film that started him down the path of playing villains and monsters?). A fur trapper who was stuck up in northern Canada for a year longer than he had planned, he returns home, some 300 miles south, to find his fiancée (Betty Blythe) about to marry the villainous son (Melbourne MacDowell) of the man who runs the town. Chaney gets into a fight and kills a man, but escapes with the girl. A while later, MacDowell finds the couple settled in the wilderness and enlists an honorable Mountie (Lewis Stone, who would go on to co-star in Grand Hotel) to bring Chaney to justice. It's a pretty standard melodrama from this period, but it's entertaining. The forest fire climax is quite well done. There's a lot of emphasis on Chaney's pets, a dog and a bear. Near the beginning, they get separated from their master (tethered together - you expect them to die horribly), and even have dialogue with each other. It almost turns into a silent Homeward Bound for a while!

No matter how much we adore early cinema, how many silent films we watch, or how many modern films that lovingly depict productions of the silent era, it never ceases to amaze how very different the medium was one hundred years ago. Even as many filmmakers were innovating, developing new techniques and technology, there's no mistaking the relative simplicity with which scenes were orchestrated and shot, and with which narratives were constructed, and how stark the disparity between contemporary approaches to acting and those that would come to take over heading toward and following the advent of the talkie. None of this is any reflection on a given title's quality, though I can understand how some modern viewers may have a harder time engaging with such works. All this is to say that as 'Nomads of the north' begins it shows itself to bear all the hallmarks of a period long past - yet for those who are open to the style, it's also readily endearing, and very well made. More than that, though, over the course of these 100 minutes the whole increasingly builds strength in every capacity, impressing more and more. I might stop short of saying it wholly demands viewership, but I'm pleased to say this holds up very well, and in my opinion stands taller than a lot of other flicks of its time.

Even early in the length I'm struck by how carefully and artistically the picture was crafted. The camera may be fairly static, yet between David Hartford's direction and Walter L. Griffin's cinematography we're treated to smart, fetching shot composition that in and of itself is aesthetically pleasing - some small moments are plainly beautiful - and each shot and scene is executed with a creative panache that spiritedly promotes the drama therein. In turn any particular concern for the camerawork or framing is ameliorated as Hartford and Griffin more than make up for any relative shortcoming. To much the same point, much of the silent era was characterized by acting of exaggerated facial expressions and body language, a method ported over from the stage that served to compensate for the lack of verbal dialogue and sound; only in bits and pieces, and with some resistance, did a more nuanced, natural method develop over time, which in due course would become the norm in the sound era. In this 1920 feature I think the players somewhat split the difference: the performances are maybe not perfectly fluid and organic, yet are surely marked with more subtlety and sobriety than we often saw in other pieces of the time. As a result the underlying emotions, and the gravity of the characters, the portrayals, and the scenario in which they are all swept up, are more impactful and absorbing. Again, 'Nomads of the north' may not be a total revelation, but in my mind it easily towers over no few of its contemporaries.

This isn't to say that the movie is free of valid criticism. Producers and filmmakers didn't always pause for consideration of animal rights, animal labor, and humane treatment, and among other non-human participants, I have nagging doubts about how a prominent dog and bear cub were handled, and the situations into which they were placed. Such matters do not severely diminish the otherwise value here, but I think there's an unfortunate asterisk to be placed beside the film's name, no differently than those silent westerns in which "Wonder Horses" often performed dangerous stunts. Still, with this firmly in mind, in pretty much every other way this picture is such a great treasure. The filming locations are truly gorgeous, and for as much of a presence as the wild landscapes have here - a clear effort to foster an appreciation for the natural world - one is somewhat reminded of the works of Swedish master Victor Sjöström, such as 'Terje Vigen' and 'The outlaw and his wife,' in which the very surrounding environs seemed to take on life of their own and become another full-bodied character. The sets, costume design, and hair and makeup are all marvelously rich with fine detail, and the crew who operated behind the scenes deserve much love for their contributions. This is to say nothing of those stunts and effects that were employed: from miniatures, lighting, and environmental effects, to fights, to a major sequence in the back end that accordingly put the stars at very real risk of injury, everything herein looks terrific in helping to give shape to the tableau.

All this brings us to the plot, which also reminds to some degree of Sjöström's oeuvre as the wilderness plays so significant a part. The tale is comparatively straightforward and uninvolved, and particularly seems so at the outset. Just as is true of other elements, though, the saga becomes ever more engrossing as the length advances, with some especially dark beats and ideas amidst a bounty of substantial emotions and robust drama. I'm not familiar with James Oliver Curwood's novel, but in adapting it he and filmmaker Hartford whipped up a fantastic screenplay with vibrant scene writing, strong characters, and an overall story that bears hefty airs of adventure amidst the human entanglements. If in the beginning I was a tad nonplussed, well before the ending rolls around I was wholly enraptured by the narrative on hand; the feature is ultimately far more superb than first meets the eye. And as if anything else here weren't roundly excellent, I really am pleased with just how good the cast is. The "Man of a Thousand Faces,' Lon Chaney, today stands as the single recognizable actor, but everyone here is equally splendid. Among others, Betty Blythe, Francis McDonald, and Lewis Stone absolutely leave their mark on the proceedings alongside Chaney, embodying their characters with such earnestness and emotional depth that shoulder much of the vitality herein, and are just as critical to the title's success as anything else.

All told this may stop short of striking as deeply as some other silent classics, with perhaps a smidgen less thought applied than would be ideal toward allowing the power of the drama to achieve its full potential. The pacing and tone are ever so slightly variable, and to a marginal extent 'Nomads of the north' leans toward vibes of adventure rather than latch onto the tumult of feelings at the core of the saga. Frankly, though, this is nitpicking; a fraction of lag here, a kernel of abruptness there - even the issue of animal handling doesn't meaningfully detract at all from the magnificence of what this otherwise represents. In whatever measure the movie is imperfect, or isn't as absolutely stellar as other works of the time, for the level on which this operates the distinction is meaningless. I assumed when I sat to watch I'd enjoy it, but ultimately this handily exceeds my expectations, and I'm a little taken aback that it's not more visible and well-known among its silent brethren. I, for one, could hardly be happier with just how good 'Nomads of the north' is; it may not be a pure must-see, but it would be a mistake to pass this up, and I'm glad to give it my very high and hearty recommendation!