The Guardian: If Looks Could Kill
Bruce Calvert
If looks could kill
Theda Bara had a bulbous nose, an overbite and a squint - yet she was a star
of silent movies. Kira Cochrane on the ultimate screen vamp
Thursday January 10, 2008
The Guardian
The lady is a vamp ... Theda Bara in Carmen.
It's mean to say it, but here goes: one of the things that has always
fascinated me about the actors of the silent era, especially the sex
symbols, is just how plain, ordinary, even ugly, many of them are. Francis X
Bushman, for instance, star of the original 1925 Ben-Hur, may have gloried
in publicity pegging him as "The Handsomest Man in the World", but
photographs suggest he was in fact a baggy-eyed bloke with bushy eyebrows
and an improbably long nose. Rudolph Valentino, the man whose untimely death
from peritonitis in 1926 caused mass hysteria and fainting among his female
fans, wasn't actually all that much of a looker. I'm not saying he was ugly.
But gorgeous enough to cause two women to commit suicide on news of his
death, as was alleged? It's debatable.
The silent star who fascinates me the most in this respect, though, is Theda
Bara. In a short career, largely played out between 1914-19, Bara became a
massive star, her popularity at one stage second only to Mary Pickford and
Charlie Chaplin. But unlike Pickford (America's fresh-faced sweetheart),
Bara's success was based on her reputation as a "vamp", a woman so cruelly
attractive that she could ensnare any man, exploit him, trample him, and
walk away with an enormous grin on her face. Bara became so synonymous with
the term that she is now referred to as the original on-screen vamp, the
woman who made performances such as that of Louise Brooks in Pandora's Box,
Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity and Linda Fiorentino in The Last
Seduction possible.
I have read biographies of Bara and pored over her still photographs, and
found it hard to fathom her appeal. Her figure isn't bad, though it could
most accurately be described as "matronly". She has a bulbous nose, an
overbite and a definite squint (she was extremely short-sighted). Just what
was it that so enraptured audiences?
I found out this week, while watching one of Bara's only surviving films, A
Fool There Was. Released in the US in 1915, this was the first major screen
outing for the woman who, until then, had been a minor stage actor. A Fool
There Was is based on a variety of sources, including an 1897 painting by
Philip Burne-Jones, which shows a woman looming over a man who is either
dead, passed out or really very sleepy; and a hokey poem of the same title
that Burne-Jones's cousin, Rudyard Kipling, wrote for the exhibition
catalogue. The film tells the story of a wealthy, married diplomat who sinks
in horrific decline after submitting to the attentions of "The Vampire",
played by Bara.
The minute Bara arrives on screen, it becomes obvious why she was so
popular - why she went on to have songs written about her, children named
after her, a perfume and even a sandwich (minced ham, mayonnaise, sliced
pimento and sweet pickles on toast - served warm) created in her honour. The
first scene shows the diplomat smelling a couple of roses and smiling
wistfully. The second scene is Bara, glancing around shiftily, picking up
those same roses, smelling them, smirking, ripping off the petals, crushing
them in her hands, and laughing. On screen, that face comes into its own -
so much so that when you learn that her character's malevolence has led one
man to jail, another to beggary, and her most recent victim to a very public
suicide, you believe it. Rudolph, eat your heart out.
Another major factor in the film's huge success was the groundbreaking
publicity machine that whirred around it. A Fool There Was was made by
William Fox's fledgling studio, which employed two wily PR men - Al Selig
and John Goldfrap - both determined to ensure this latest film was a hit. In
Vamp, Eve Golden's punchy biography of Bara, there is a description of the
outlandish press conference set up by the men to showcase Fox's newest star.
The fact that Bara (real name Theodosia Goodman) was the daughter of
immigrants from Cincinnati, was irrelevant. Instead, they claimed she was
the child of a French actress and an Italian sculptor, raised in the shadow
of the Pyramids, who had gone on to become a huge stage success in Paris,
before escaping to America on the brink of war. The story was ridiculous,
and the journalists who gathered in the Egyptian-themed room where Bara was
presented to them, amid choking clouds of scent, knew it. But it worked.
While the end of 1914 had seen Fox Studios in debt, in 1915 Bara's huge
popularity helped them rake in $3m.
Thus, Bara was put to work, cranking out 40 films for Fox over the next four
years. Like many ambitious actors, she was anxious not to be typecast,
always pushing for a range of roles and occasionally rewarded. In her 30s,
she was cast, for instance, as the young, virginal female lead in Romeo and
Juliet, a well-received production now most notable for its key innovation:
Juliet briefly rising from the dead to share the final scene with Romeo.
Bara also played Cleopatra in a series of raunchy costumes, including a bra
fashioned out of a coiled snake, ruby-red eyes placed suggestively in the
centre of each breast. But most of the time she played a vamp, in films such
as The Devil's Daughter, the publicity material for which described Bara as
"The Wickedest Woman in the World".
But by 1919, Bara's career was on the rocks. This wasn't due to the advent
of the talkies: there is no suggestion that her voice was especially reedy
or ridiculous or wretched. Fox had another star on its books, however -
cowboy hero Tom Mix - and a new kind of skinny, youthful sex symbol was
growing popular in the shape of the flapper. Then there was the scandal
prompted by one of Bara's late films, Kathleen Mavourneen, in which she
played a poor Irish girl. As Golden describes it: "The Friends of Irish
Freedom and the Central Council of Irish Associations violently objected to
the depiction of poverty in Ireland (although castles and middle-class towns
were also shown). Other groups ... objected to a 'Jewess' portraying a
beloved Irish heroine. Stink bombs were rolled down the aisles."
Abruptly, Bara's career was all but over. Over the next decade, she appeared
in a few films, but never regained her star status. She must have taken some
comfort from the fact that she had fallen for the writer/director of
Kathleen Mavourneen, Charles Brabin, who often styled himself as a knight
and a lord but who was actually a Liverpudlian butcher's son. The pair
married, and Bara saw out her days as a popular Hollywood matron.
Watching A Fool There Was - seeing just how magnetic Bara was in motion -
makes you realise how ill-served those early silent stars have been. Around
80%, or even 90%, of silent films have now been lost, partly through
neglect, partly due to the recycling of nitrate film, and partly because
nitrate is more flammable than a matchstick. Only four of Bara's films
survive, after a Fox storage facility exploded in 1937. Martin Scorsese has
been banging on for years now about the need to preserve silent films, to
ensure we have something to go on in the future other than still photos. And
he's right. After all, as Bara has made me realise, when it comes to
understanding the allure of silent film stars, photos only count for so
much. It's all about the movies, stupid.
· A Fool There Was screens at the Barbican, London, on Sunday. Box office:
020-7638 8891.
--
Bruce Calvert
--
Visit the Silent Film Still Archive
http://www.silentfilmstillarchive.com
quote...@yahoo.com
> But by 1919, Bara's career was on the rocks. This wasn't due to the advent
> of the talkies: there is no suggestion that her voice was especially reedy
> or ridiculous or wretched.
Nor any suggestion that "the advent of the talkies" came in 1919!
______________________
Erik the Phantom says: "No longer like a toad in these foul Usenet
cellars will I secrete the venom of hatred - - for NitrateVille.com
shall bring me love!"
R H Draney
>
>It's mean to say it, but here goes: one of the things that has always
>fascinated me about the actors of the silent era, especially the sex
>symbols, is just how plain, ordinary, even ugly, many of them are.
Julia Roberts has the mouth of a horse, and Renee Zellweger has the eyes of a
pig...the more things change....r
--
What good is being an executive if you never get to execute anyone?
Lloyd Fonvielle
> It's a comparative thing- Bushman was cut to the pattern of what the early
> 20th centurn termed a Handsome Man. Strong features were the "In" thing-
> look at Milton Sills and Robert Warwick, Tyrone Power Sr, among others- even
> John Barrymore reflects the style. All of them strong profiles, even overly
> pronounced. I suspect it a holdover from the stage where your expression
> had to register all the way to the back of the room.
>
> Lets not forget that Bushman reportedly watched one of his early films and
> said : "My God look at that- I'm putting all my emotions into my CHIN!"
It's fascinating to meditate on how the movies may have changed our
notions of the physical ideal in both men and women. Prior to the movie
age, solidity and gravity were prized in both men and women. Ideal men
tended to be stout, ideal women women upholstered -- types who could
literally "anchor" a stage production. Leading men had to look as
though they'd weather a hurricane with the unflinching endurance of a
bronze statue, leading women had to have some of the attributes of a
sofa. But movies wanted heroes and heroines who could move, dance,
acquit themselves triumphantly in a chase -- who operated on different
terms of engagement with space. Even when they weren't moving, these
actors suggested the potential for movement.
So we have the transition from the stately Florence Lawrence to the
lithe and lively Gish, from the rock-jawed Bushman to the sleek dancer
Valentino.
I think this sheds some light, too, on why Gish and Pickford hopped and
skipped and scampered about so much, in ways modern audiences find
slightly icky. This was partly, no doubt, what it seems to be to us
today -- a way of making them seem childlike -- but I think it also had
another contradictory message to audiences of the time, as though the
actors were saying, "Look at us, we're modern women -- we MOVE!"
Mar de Cortes Baja
www.mardecortesbaja.com <http://www.mardecortesbaja.com/blog>
Eric Stott
"Lloyd Fonvielle" <navigar...@cox.net> wrote in message
news:7Xyhj.36500$Wt7....@newsfe14.phx...
>
> So we have the transition from the stately Florence Lawrence to the lithe
> and lively Gish, from the rock-jawed Bushman to the sleek dancer
> Valentino.
The rock-jawed type never entirely goes away- the lineage continues through
Ben Afleck, no matter what else he may lack. I'm no great fan of his, but
made up as George Reeve he looked entirely the part.
Eric Stott
Lloyd Fonvielle
True. I was using rock-jawed in a more symbolic way. Afleck's got a
jaw but neither he nor any modern star, really, has that
stout-around-the-middle, rooted-to-the-earth look of the pre-movie
matinee idol. They went entirely out of fashion in the Twenties.
StormChaser
If Lindsey Lohan walked past me
on the street, I wouldn't give her
a second look if I didn't know
who she was. Her appearance
is so Plain Jane.
As for silent era actresses being
less than attractive, the article's
author has probably never seen
pictures of Alice Terry, Ann Penning-
ton, Eleanor Boardman, Edna
Purviance, Georgia Hale, or Mary
Philbin. Beauties that transcend
time.
Eric Stott
> Eric Stott wrote:
>> The rock-jawed type never entirely goes away- the lineage continues
>> through Ben Afleck, no matter what else he may lack. I'm no great fan of
>> his, but made up as George Reeve he looked entirely the part.
>
> True. I was using rock-jawed in a more symbolic way. Afleck's got a jaw
> but neither he nor any modern star, really, has that
> stout-around-the-middle, rooted-to-the-earth look of the pre-movie matinee
> idol. They went entirely out of fashion in the Twenties.
Oh, completely understood, I was really just riffing on a minor theme.
It's funny that although you don't find stars that fit the old molds you can
still look through the ranks of supporting players and character actors and
find the same old types- a lot of them seem to end up in Coen Brothers
movies. Taking "Trouble in Paradise" as an example, I'd be hard pressed to
cast the leads nowadays, but for the Edward Everett Horton and Charles
Ruggles parts I'd just call up David Hyde Pierce and Kelsey Grammar.
(Pierce is great- he channelled Tony Randall flawlessly in Down with Love.)
Eric Stott
R H Draney
>
>As for silent era actresses being
>less than attractive, the article's
>author has probably never seen
>pictures of Alice Terry, Ann Penning-
>ton, Eleanor Boardman, Edna
>Purviance, Georgia Hale, or Mary
>Philbin. Beauties that transcend
>time.
You know those Nagel posters that were so popular about 15-20 years ago?...have
you ever noticed how the models, with different makeup, would have made great
Gibson girls?...r
Stacia
>Julia Roberts has the mouth of a horse, and Renee Zellweger has the eyes of a
>pig...the more things change....r
Yes, this article is just idiotic. They must have been desperate to
fill space, because it's no more insightful than a below-average blog
post. It never occurred to anyone that tastes change, that judging people
based only on looks is idiotic, and our own crop of allegedly handsome new
stars can be pretty ugly in their own right? Sad.
Stacia
Fred
wrote:
I think the article was fine, and even a little clever. What I mean
is that, face it, today 99 people out of 100-- make that 120 people
out of 100-- would say that Theda is unattractive (or at least not
actully a sex symbol) based on the odd picture or snippet of film
they've seen. This article is telling those people that they should
give her (and other silent stars) a chance and actually see the films;
that they'll be pleasantly surprised. I think that's a smart way to
get people to their screening: "Hey, I'm with you, I saw those
pictures and couldn't understand what the fuss was about. And now
that we're on the same page, and you know I'm now fawning silent film
zealot, take my advice and check out this film, you'll be glad you
did."
While it's easy to say that tastes change, I find it interesting that
some of the silent stars would be just as likely to grace the covers
of magazines today as they did back then, while others, well, while
others just plain wouldn't. For example, Garbo fits just as much with
today's ideal as she did then, whereas I don't think Theda Bara would
end up in People Magazine's "100 Sexiest Women" issue. For the men, I
think Gary Cooper and George O'Brien would be just as desired by women
today as they were back then.
Fred
N_Phay
fluffy. There was some kind of fair point in that you do have to see
some of these people in motion to "get it". I tried getting some
screengrabs of Pola Negri in "A Woman of the World", for example, but
in every one I got she looked like a man, example:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/16804034@N00/474011411/
....in motion on the screen, though, she's pretty hot! Likewise
Colleen Moore, who looks kind of cute and perky and likeable in
stills, on the screen though, I think she's gorgeous, she looks as
good as any actress I could name.
It's kind of weird to compare the looks of the modern screen actress,
where everyone seems to have the exact same shaped nose for some
(cough) unmentionable reason, and where under the withering glare of
the modern celebrity mag, everyone seems to feel that they have to be
one step off emaciated, with the "old days" - probably even Louise
Brooks would get packed off to a personal trainer to get rid of that
little hint of a double chin she had if she was around now, and a
whole bunch of great looking women - Clara Bow, Corinne Griffith,
Alice Faye come to mind - would be considered matronly or even fat!
It makes you wonder how much progress we've actually made over the
years.
On Jan 12, 6:57 am, Fred <fw...@hotmailx.com> wrote:
> On Sat, 12 Jan 2008 02:16:36 +0000 (UTC), sta...@xmission.com (Stacia)
> wrote:
>