FILM FILM - University of Macau Library

FILM FILM - University of Macau Library FILM FILM - University of Macau Library

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Fragmented Pieces: Writing the History of the Lost Hollywood Films 101 Christine Johnston, was based on Alphonse Daudet’s novel Kings in Exile (Les rois en exil, 1879). The change of the narrative perspective from king to queen is worth noting. The film stands in interesting contrast to Sjöström’s previous success; neither the critics nor the audience liked it. Bengt Forslund speculates on the possibility that the film might originally have been intended for Rex Ingram to direct, as his wife, Alice Terry, as well as Lewis Stone, who both starred in Ingram’s Scaramouche (1923), produced by Metro, also play the leading roles in this film. 12 The plot is simple: King Christian of Illyria (Lewis Stone) leads a decadent life. He has married the princess from a neighbouring kingdom (Alice Terry), but he cares more for his mistress Sephora (Helena d’Algy) than for his country or for his wife. The queen in turn is courted by the king’s cousin, Prince Alexei (John Bowers). The king’s behaviour leads to revolution. The king is willing to abdicate, but his wife refuses, and they both flee to Paris. Here, however, he discovers that he really cares for his wife after all. His life is put in danger as his mistress turns out to be in league with the revolutionaries. As he abdicates in favour of his son, the couple remain united. This film in several respects is less elaborate than the director’s other Hollywood films. This may partly have been due to the film being produced in such haste, but probably partly also to the previously mentioned fact that he, as a director, to a large extent seems to have chosen to subordinate his wishes to the demands of the script which was, in this case, a straightforward, realist story. However, adapting to the Hollywood system with its normally very strict division of labour between scriptwriter and director also seems to have been difficult for Sjöström (perhaps particularly so after having worked himself as scriptwriter for He Who Gets Slapped), as a letter to writer – and former Sjöström scriptwriter, with whom he had worked in close collaboration during the Swedish years – Hjalmar Bergman about Confessions of a Queen (1925) and the script for his next film The Tower of Lies (1925) indicates: In any case, I may delight your false heart with the news that I have made a bad film since I last wrote to you. At least, so I’m afraid. But it isn’t all that easy, I must say, as there are so many things to take into consideration, and the limitations so sharp. My desire to quit this job becomes stronger from day to day. For the moment, I am in the midst of searching for a new film subject. Selma Lagerlöf’s “The Emperor of Portugallia” has been brought up, but I still don’t know what will become of this idea. I’m afraid there will be so many changes –“in order to suit the American audience” – that nothing will be left of the book, as in my last film. 13 This letter, however, should perhaps not be interpreted literally. It seems plausible that it may voice Sjöström’s scruples, having refused to shoot a Hjalmar Bergman script which, in turn, led to his leaving Hollywood. Still, in addition

102 Transition and Transformation to the letter to Bergman, Sjöström also wrote to Julius Jaenzon the same day complaining about the photographers and their lack of courage to do anything new: he feels as if he was working in a factory, where trash work is given priority and both innovation and care are set aside. 14 Swedish critics, like Sven Stolpe, also remained ambivalent on a more general level: The great problem for Victor Sjöström during his stay in Hollywood – may it soon come to an end – has been to avoid being transformed into Seastrom. So far, he has been successful. In spite of great difficulties, which have to be kept in mind by anyone who picks up a pen in order to evaluate his American productions, Sjöström has remained European. The rustling dollar bills have not made him give up the invaluable cultural tradition which places the European one step higher than the American. On the other hand, Sjöström has learned a great deal from the Yankees. His art is still essential, it has remained serious and kept its human truth, but he has sharpened his eye and become more light-handed. 15 Other critics found the film to be minor, but still “incomparably superior to the standard productions that the dollar country spreads over the world: if it doesn’t move, at least it entertains and diverts”. 16 This duality between the great Swedish artist and the gigantic Hollywood machinery reappeared as a favourite figure in the rhetorics of many critics. It is striking that the images from the preserved fragment of the film bear a strong resemblance to the illustrated facsimile of the novel, with which Sjöström was undoubtedly familiar. This recalls his working method from the Swedish period, where, more than once, illustrations from the novels directly inspired the mise-en-scène of the films. John Fullerton has shown in an early essay on A Man There Was that a number of scenes were inspired by Christian Krogh’s illustrations for the 1905 edition of Ibsen’s poem, which Sjöström undoubtedly had seen. 17 A similar connection between book illustrations and film images is also possible in the case of The Monastery of Sendomir – Franz Grillparzer’s novel from 1828 and Sjöström’s film from 1920. Here, the first Swedish version of Grillparzer’s novel, with vignettes by David Tägtström, has clear similarities to Sjöström’s compositions. 18 Two details from the preserved fragment of the film are also particularly noteworthy, as they still seem to evidence Sjöström’s authorial signature in a work with which he was otherwise rather unhappy. The first detail occurs in connection with the opening titles, where the narrator’s hand – according to the title of the film: the queen – is seen opening a diary. However, this diary seems to bear the characteristic handwriting of Sjöström himself. The diary reads: “The world has heard many stories of the reign of that gay monarch Christian II, whose behavior was the scandal of Europe. But the world has not yet heard the truth ___.” As a signature, this recalls the imprint of Lang’s

Fragmented Pieces: Writing the History <strong>of</strong> the Lost Hollywood Films 101<br />

Christine Johnston, was based on Alphonse Daudet’s novel Kings in Exile (Les<br />

rois en exil, 1879). The change <strong>of</strong> the narrative perspective from king to queen is<br />

worth noting. The film stands in interesting contrast to Sjöström’s previous success;<br />

neither the critics nor the audience liked it. Bengt Forslund speculates on<br />

the possibility that the film might originally have been intended for Rex Ingram<br />

to direct, as his wife, Alice Terry, as well as Lewis Stone, who both starred in<br />

Ingram’s Scaramouche (1923), produced by Metro, also play the leading roles<br />

in this film. 12<br />

The plot is simple: King Christian <strong>of</strong> Illyria (Lewis Stone) leads a decadent<br />

life. He has married the princess from a neighbouring kingdom (Alice Terry),<br />

but he cares more for his mistress Sephora (Helena d’Algy) than for his country<br />

or for his wife. The queen in turn is courted by the king’s cousin, Prince Alexei<br />

(John Bowers). The king’s behaviour leads to revolution. The king is willing to<br />

abdicate, but his wife refuses, and they both flee to Paris. Here, however, he<br />

discovers that he really cares for his wife after all. His life is put in danger as his<br />

mistress turns out to be in league with the revolutionaries. As he abdicates in<br />

favour <strong>of</strong> his son, the couple remain united.<br />

This film in several respects is less elaborate than the director’s other Hollywood<br />

films. This may partly have been due to the film being produced in such<br />

haste, but probably partly also to the previously mentioned fact that he, as a<br />

director, to a large extent seems to have chosen to subordinate his wishes to the<br />

demands <strong>of</strong> the script which was, in this case, a straightforward, realist story.<br />

However, adapting to the Hollywood system with its normally very strict division<br />

<strong>of</strong> labour between scriptwriter and director also seems to have been difficult<br />

for Sjöström (perhaps particularly so after having worked himself as scriptwriter<br />

for He Who Gets Slapped), as a letter to writer – and former Sjöström<br />

scriptwriter, with whom he had worked in close collaboration during the Swedish<br />

years – Hjalmar Bergman about Confessions <strong>of</strong> a Queen (1925) and the<br />

script for his next film The Tower <strong>of</strong> Lies (1925) indicates:<br />

In any case, I may delight your false heart with the news that I have made a bad film<br />

since I last wrote to you. At least, so I’m afraid. But it isn’t all that easy, I must say, as<br />

there are so many things to take into consideration, and the limitations so sharp. My<br />

desire to quit this job becomes stronger from day to day. For the moment, I am in the<br />

midst <strong>of</strong> searching for a new film subject. Selma Lagerlöf’s “The Emperor <strong>of</strong> Portugallia”<br />

has been brought up, but I still don’t know what will become <strong>of</strong> this idea. I’m<br />

afraid there will be so many changes –“in order to suit the American audience” –<br />

that nothing will be left <strong>of</strong> the book, as in my last film. 13<br />

This letter, however, should perhaps not be interpreted literally. It seems plausible<br />

that it may voice Sjöström’s scruples, having refused to shoot a Hjalmar<br />

Bergman script which, in turn, led to his leaving Hollywood. Still, in addition

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