Le club des trois

Definitely worth a look. There are some advantages/disadvantages to the original. Disadvantages: Well, there are a few. The tension isn't as great. Lila Lee is not as sympathetic a "Rosie" as Mae Busch from the original. I am a HUGE fan of Harry Earles, but he is all but incoherent here unfortunately. Ivan isn't as good as Victor in the role of Hercules, and Hector really bugs me in this version. Advantages: Of course, YOU GET TO HEAR LON CHANEY! His one and only "talkie"! That's worth the price of admission alone! My grandmother used to head a movie theater waaaay back in the late 20's and early 30's and said that people went crazy for their chance to hear Chaney talk! I believe it! Okay, besides that, the scene with the police detective and the toy elephant is great! The scene where Harry Earles tries to get an early bonus with the necklace is very good and the whole relationship between the midget and the strongman is better defined, IMHO, in this version. All in all, check it out if you have a chance!

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!

This is a fine debut for a top & unique silent film star. Considering Chaney's vocal accomplishment in the early torturous sound on film system, one wonders how Chaney would have faired a few years down the road in films like The Invisible Man with only his voice and no face whatsoever. Lon barely was able to make this remake as he was suffering from advanced stages of throat cancer and it shows on his face throughout the film. His face is gaunt and withdrawn which only adds to the oddness of the story. Thalberg most likely gave the go ahead for Lon to remake his 1925 silent hit as it was popular with the public and after five years he would have been still familiar with the story. Thus learning lines would have come a lot easier to the suffering and ultimately dying Chaney. Sound actually improves the story somewhat and indicates the same circus environment that Chaney's director friend would make two years down the road in Freaks. Browning had actually made the silent Unholy Three and the script or scenario must have not gathered too much dust when director Jack Conway did this sound remake. But Conway & Chaney scored a 1930 triumph and it's a shame Chaney had to die on the cusp of it.

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. (***)

Make no mistake, Lon Chaney Sr. was one of the most talented and versatile actors in the history of American Film. And in this, his only completed sound film, he is brilliant. As Professor Echo he uses his own pleasant voice (William Holden's voice is a good comparison), while he effectively and believably changes his voice during his old lady disguise. One wonders if he knew he was terminally ill when he made this film. Several sound vehicles were planned for him: "Dracula" (Bela Lugosi became a star inheriting the Chaney part), "The Sea Bat" (Charles Bickford), "The Phantom of Paris" (John Gilbert), and "The Big House" and "The Bugle Sounds" (Wallace Beery, the former establishing him in sound films.). One can only wonder how any of these films would have been if Chaney had lived to complete them.

But Chaney's is not the only good performance here. Lila Lee and future director-screenwriter Elliott Nugent are both good as the young lovers, the former's scenes with Chaney being some of the best in the picture. And, just as much as he did in the silent version, midget Harry Earles conveys pure menace as the depraved dwarf Tweedledee, although a combination of early sound equipment and his thick German accent make many of his lines all but incomprehensible. Reducing that accent by half, he would do impressive work in "Freaks" and, of course, "The Wizard of Oz" later in the decade. The only other roles of any size fall to veteran character men Clarence Burton and John Miljan, and they prove themselves more than up to the task.

Probably the only way anyone will get to see this film, until MGM decides to release it on video, is on Turner Classic Movies, which is where I saw it recently. If you do see it, you're in for a rare treat.