When The River was released in American theatres in 1929, it was laughed off the screen. William Fox had, unbeknownst to director Frank Borzage, added a singing prologue the film, completely changing the tone of his intensely moving film. When the same film was released in Europe without the singing prologue or talking epilogue, it was considered “one of those rare films in which the face of love moves us by its truth.” (Dumont, 144)

When Lucky Star was released into American theatres in 1929, Variety called it “indifferent and poor,” but this same film, discovered anew in a Dutch film archive, has now been hailed as one of the masterpieces of the silent era.

How could each film elicit such opposing opinions? One word: sound.

In 1929, Fox Films was struggling to survive. The company had just completed a multi-million dollar renovation to make it the leading competitor in the sound film market. William Fox, the head of the studio, had nearly lost his life in a car accident and was deeply in debt following those renovations. He decreed that, from then on, all Fox Films would be issued as talking pictures for the American market. For every other country, he would continue to make silent films, as the synchornization process had not yet been perfected for the foreign market.

So during this critical period, as studios switched from silent to sound, Fox made 2 versions of every film it released. Most films were made into talkies simply by tacking dialogue onto the beginning and the end, as in “The River.” In other instances, such as “Lucky Star,” a completely different film was made.

Almost every single time, the silent film version released overseas was lauded, while the talky version in America was laughed out of the theatre. Why? Because silent film as art was at its zenith, while the sound film was in its infancy. Directors, producers, and actors would completely change their approach to acting and filming within the next few years, as they adjusted story telling to this new medium.

In many cases, only the silent versions of these films have popped up, usually in archives overseas. And what these silent versions do is rescue the reputations of nearly everyone involved. If we were just to go on reviews, we would think that all of these films, made on the cusp of change, were quite awful. We might think that the actors and directors simply could not cut it any longer. But once we see these films as they were originally meant to be seen, we know that you can’t change mediums midscreen–that is, Fox should have left the silents alone. He shouldn’t have glommed one medium onto the other but developed them separately.

It really rescues the reputation of one seriously undervalued actor, Charles Farrell, and his director, Frank Borzage. Together, these men created a new type of hero who was both naive and innocent while maintaining masculine virility. Many people barely remember Charlie today, and he certainly is not regarded as the best actor of his generation. But both of these films contain his finest performances. Borzage has been receiving more credit as an auteur thanks to Herve Dumont’s book, but is still commonly regarded as overly sentimental by contemporary audiences.

Now that they have been rescued from obscurity (or complete demolition), these films force us to reevaluate Farrell as an actor and Borzage as a director. In that sense, film preservation has given these two men (and countless others who worked in this transitional period) new life. Their reputations restored, as well as their work.

 If you support film preservation, you are supporting the restoration not just of films, but the careers of everyone who worked in films. Rarely can one act support the restoration of so many people’s artistic efforts. Please consider making a donation to the National Film Preservation Foundation today. 

Some days, it feels like supporting film preservation is an uphill battle.

There are always more pressing humanitarian concerns that justifiably take the spotlight.

There are always, and have always been, people who question the validity of film as art.

There are others who cannot stand old movies, black and white movies, silent films, or anything beyond what’s being shown in the cineplex down the street.

So you can always find a reason not to support film preservation.

Here are 3 reasons why film preservation matters:

1. It’s not just preserving film, it’s people preservation too.

Someone wrote that comment on my blog about Olive Thomas, and it’s true. Often film preservation is less about the films themselves, and more about the people behind those films. It’s about saving an actor’s work for an entirely new generation of fans. It’s about showing someone what made a director like Murnau or Borzage great. Film is artistic expression made (semi)permanent, and unlike other forms of artistic media, it’s a collaborative effort. That means by preserving one film, we are preserving the work of actors, directors, writers, cinematographers, costume designers, and hundreds of other people who toiled under the same common cause–making that one film.

2. Film is artistic expression and should be treated with respect

As anyone who has read Anita Loos’ books knows, in the early days of film nobody thought they were making Art. Films were disposable products made for mass consumption. You can almost trace the emergence of Film as Art by reading her books–she credits DW Griffith with creating art, and I would add that many of his peers took this notion and ran with it. Nowadays it seems that we all agree, a great film can be Art, but yet there is still a hesitation on the part of the public to really back this claim up with cold hard cash. Let’s all agree that some films are as sacred to our history as paintings and sculptures. Now let’s supplement that statement by donating the money to preserve these films just as we preserve other works of art for future generations to enjoy.

3. Films are a window into history

Finally, films are a window into history. Thanks to the work of Matthew Brady, we are able to have some contemporary, unromanticized account of what the Civil War was like for those who fought. Films give us that same immediate, contemporary view into the past. This goes not just for documentaries, but even the funniest, or darkest films ever made. You know how in Cops (1921), Buster Keaton originally starts a panic unknowingly using an anarchist’s bomb? Keaton mined current events, such as the Sacco and Vanzetti trial and civilian bombings that followed in its wake, for that 2-reeler. Cops made 1920s audiences chuckle in a rueful way, perhaps, but for us it provides a fascinating window into the 1920s political climate and even pop culture.

My personal reason for supporting film preservation is simple: I like old movies. I know other bloggers and film fanatics out there have their own deeply personal reasons why they support film research. No matter why you choose to support the cause, whether for the 3 reasons I listed or for completely different ones, please consider making a donation to the Film Preservation Foundation today.

https://npo.networkforgood.org/Donate/Donate.aspx?npoSubscriptionId=1001883&code=Blogathon

The National Film Preservation Foundation is the independent, nonprofit organization created by the U.S. Congress to help save America’s film heritage. They work directly with archives to rescue endangered films that will not survive without public support.

The NFPF will give away 4 DVD sets as thank-you gifts to blogathon donors chosen in a random drawing: Treasures III: Social Issues in American Film, 1900-1934 and Treasures IV: American Avant Garde Film, 1947-1986.

Please also visit the blogs of our generous hosts, who made this possible:

http://selfstyledsiren.blogspot.com

http://www.ferdyonfilms.com

Thanks for reading.

When I first starting researching the life of Olive Thomas, I knew all my work would culminate in a biography. Over time, I knew this biography would have to be told on film, because Olive belonged to one common little society of silent film stars. This group contains all the stars who have virtually no film known to exist, or no film readily available to the public. Their star power has lasted over the decades, fueled only by static photographs and breathless stories handed down generation to generation.

Perhaps no one embodied this sad group better than Olive Thomas. Her tragic death and several almost iconic photographs, as well as one very racy Vargas print, made her the stuff of legends. Her photos (always with long brown ringlets, maybe a straw hat, and usually with her famous string of pearls gifted by an awestruck German ambassador) hinted at a personality beneath the sepia tone, but never really gave her…life.

Over the years, fueled by Hollywood Babylon and the internet, she garnered a cult following that rivaled anything that followed Valentino’s wake.  Poor haunted Olive Thomas. Poor mistreated-by-the-Pickfords Olive Thomas. Her grave doesn’t have her name on it! No one ever visits it! Adding insult to injury, none of her films were available; in fact, rumor had it that all but one (Love’s Prisoner, 1919) were lost.

Of course, all of this was just slightly off, as I realized when I researched her life. She wasn’t mistreated by the Pickfords. She may haunt the New Amsterdam, but she was never haunted herself. And as for final resting place, the staff at Woodlawn Cemetery will testify that no grave attracts more attention than Olive’s stately mausoleum. And as for her films, once I started calling around to different archives, they did too exist. Many people simply didn’t know what they had. One footage house was renting out Betty Takes a Hand (1918) for stock. Once they understood the gem they owned, they transferred it to the Library of Congress. During the making of the documentary, two more of her films surfaced overseas–Indiscreet Corinne (1919) and Out Yonder (1918).

What surfaced, too, was the portrait of a ghost as an actress. The films that emerged showed her amazing development in just 4 short years. Fortunately, the two bookends of her career, Beatrice Fairfax Episode 10: Play Ball! (1916) and Everybody’s Sweetheart (1920) survive. Watching these films is like watching Olive graduate from drama school. In her first appearance in Beatrice Fairfax,  she made the gaffe of looking directly at the camera within the first few seconds of being onscreen. Watching her in Everybody’s Sweetheart, I got verklempt as she grieved over the death of her beloved pet chicken.

In between, with the Triangle mellers that have surfaced, her few bright but homespun comedies for them, and the all-too few Selznick pictures, Olive becomes human. She learns to cry, from choking gasping giggly hiccups in An Even Break (1917) to profoundly moving grief in Everybody’s Sweetheart (1920). She was a natural comedienne, a fact that Myron Selznick was canny enough to exploit in most of her Selznick pictures, but none so winningly as in The Flapper (1920).

As a biographer, I had been lulled by those static photos and the gruesome details of her death into believing that Olive was a victim, a vague apparition that was too beautiful for this earth. As I saw film after film emerge, I realized that she was no mere ghost, but a stunning and vivacious girl who lived too fast and died too young, and was actually a really good actress to boot.

That’s why I made her story into a documentary rather than a book–it was so necessary to see her alive and moving, to dispel the image of Olive as Mere Apparition. In addition, it was crucial to release her film The Flapper (the holy grail of Olive Movies among her fans) to DVD so that everyone could have a least one glimpse of what made her great. I wish I could have released them all, made a complete boxed set that encapsulated her career.

If this was possible for one actress with one film release, I wish it were so for every other member of that sad silent film society. Ghosts no more, their films released to a new generation of fans ready to pass on the word to others.

This blog is part of a series for the For the Love of Film Preservation blogathon. Please consider making a donation to help rescue these films for a new generation:

https://npo.networkforgood.org/Donate/Donate.aspx?npoSubscriptionId=1001883&code=Blogathon

The National Film Preservation Foundation is the independent, nonprofit organization created by the U.S. Congress to help save America’s film heritage. They work directly with archives to rescue endangered films that will not survive without public support.

The NFPF will give away 4 DVD sets as thank-you gifts to blogathon donors chosen in a random drawing: Treasures III: Social Issues in American Film, 1900-1934 and Treasures IV: American Avant Garde Film, 1947-1986.

Please also visit the blogs of our generous hosts, who made this possible:

http://selfstyledsiren.blogspot.com

http://www.ferdyonfilms.com

Thanks for reading.

http://www.philipvickersfithian.com/2010/02/become-writer-and-documentary-film.html

I’ll be participating in the Film Preservation Blogathon from February 14-21. Stay tuned for updates!