A Couple Three Nifty New Finds From Around the World with Louise Brooks

While continuing to write and research my forthcoming book, Around the World with Louise Brooks, I continue to come across remarkable stuff. Last night, for example, while researching the 1930 French film Prix de beaute, I came across some articles which specifically identified which actresses dubbed Louise Brooks' speaking and singing voices in the various incarnations of the film. If you recall, Prix de beaute was released in four different languages (French, Italian, English and German) as both a silent and sound film. If these plans were realized, that means there are eight different variants of Prix de beaute! That is kind of remarkable, and French newspapers at the time thought so and claimed it had never been done. Articles of the time also claimed that the rights to the film had been sold all over the world, including the United States. Who knew, since it often said that the film was something of a failure and little seen. In fact, it was shown all over Europe (including Iceland and the Ukraine) as well as in French Algeria, Madagascar, Japan, Turkey, and the U.S.S.R. However, despite the fact that Prix was also shown in the 1930s in Western Hemisphere (Argentina, Brazil, Cuba, Haiti, Uruguay, and Venezuela), I don't believe it was shown in the United States or Canada until the late 1950s or early 1960s. Perhaps the timing was wrong for a dubbed foreign film in the USA.

Speaking of lovely portraits, I just recently came across a eye-catching image of the French film actress actress Arlette Marchel taken by one of the most gifted photographers of his time, M.I. Boris. I was going to describe Boris as everyone's favorite Louise Brooks photographer (since he took some outstanding photo's of the actress at the beginning of her career), but I might guess that everyone's favorite Brooks photographer is Eugene Robert Richee, the Paramount staff photographer. Well anyways, here is the portrait of Marchal, embellished a little more than usual in Boris' customary manner of etching the photographic print. (Marchel appeared in Wings and a couple other Clara Bow and Adolphe Menjou films.) I think Vincent might like this one; it was published in a rare Brazilian film mag.

Despite the eye appeal of the above two images, the one I was most pleased to find is this "pattern poem" or "picture poem," which was also published in a rare Brazilian film magazine. It is a prose-poem (how else to describe it?) formatted into the shape of a goblet, a symbol of both femininity (right Dan Brown) and rarity, or preciousness. It mentions a number of beautiful actresses (Norma Talmadge, Greta Nissen, Lya De Putti, Pola Negri, Colleen Moore, Clara Bow, Billie Dove, etc...), as well as Louise Brooks "with the dark night of its provocative sensualism." I think George Herbert would like this one.

My next post, in a couple of days, will feature another remarkable image regarding the presence of Paramount films around the world.

Louise Brooks podcasts - past and forthcoming

There have been a few Louise Brooks related podcasts in the past. The most recent streamed just a few days ago, on Soundcloud. It is titled "The Fire in the Eyes of Louise Brooks," episode #262, from the Important Film Club. The first half or so of this 41 minute podcast is devoted to Brooks, with the rest centering on direct-to-video action actor Steven Seagal. That is quite a range, beauty to the beast.

I will be the guest on an upcoming episode of Cinematary, whose current series, "Young Critics Watch Old Movies," will feature an episode on the 1929 Louise Brooks' film, The Diary of a Lost Girl. The episode will stream July 9th. I hope you will tune-in via the Cinematary website, or through one of the various streaming channels such as iTunes, Spotify, Sticher, YouTube, etc....

As well, I am looking forward to listening to the July 23 episode on Madchen in Uniform (1931), a favorite film of mine. Madchen in Uniform was recently released on DVD and BluRay by KINO, with an insightful audio commentary by Jenni Olson. If you like the two films Brooks made in Germany, you will also like -- even love, Madchen in Uniform. Check it out.

Diary of a Lost Girl is a film near and dear to my heart. And I also have a lot to say about it.... 

In 2010, I brought the book that was the basis the for film back into print in the United States (after more than 100 years of being out-of-print). Besides rare illustrations, my corrected and annotated "Louise Brooks edition" of Margarete Bohme's The Diary of a Lost Girl features an introduction detailing the remarkable history of the 1905 book along with its relationship to the 1929 film. My efforts received good reviews:

"Read today, it's a fascinating time-trip back to another age, and yet remains compelling. As a bonus, Gladysz richly illustrates the text with stills of Brooks from the famous film." - Jack Garner, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle

"In today's parlance this would be called a movie tie-in edition, but that seems a rather glib way to describe yet another privately published work that reveals an enormous amount of research and passion." - Leonard Maltin

"Thomas Gladysz makes an important contribution to film history, literature, and, in as much as Böhme told her tale with much detail and background contemporary to the day, sociology and history. This reissue is long overdue, and a volume of uncommon merit." - Richard Buller, author of A Beautiful Fairy Tale: The Life of Actress Lois Moran

And in 2015, I provided the audio commentary to the KINO Lorber DVD and BluRay of Diary of a Lost Girl. It was project that came about because of my work on bringing the book back into print. The KINO reissue is the best going, and a necessary addition to the collection of any Louise Brooks fan. Get it HERE before it too goes out-of-print (and as with Pandora's Box on DVD, costs and arms and a leg.)

Need help translating table of contents of Japanese film book with a chapter possibly about Louise Brooks and Clara Bow

 

I need help translating the table of contents of a Japanese film book from the late 1920s. If I understand correctly, one of the 30 chapters from this book concerns Clara Bow and Louise Brooks!  Can anyone read these chapters titles and tell me if I at all correct. Normally, while looking through non-English books or magazines, I can usually depend on visual guide posts like images or the occasional English word or name. But, there were no such guideposts in this particular book. If I am right, and the right chapter can be identified, then I can have it translated.

Clara Bow and Louise Brooks were the subject of a near "cult-like" following in Japan in the late 1920s. Hence, my interest in this book. The table of contents comes from Shinema no ABC (ABC's of Cinema), a 1928 book by Tadashi Iijima. I managed to get a hold of a reprint of this significant early work of film criticism. For mnore information, HERE is an interesting link to a history of film criticism in Japan.

G. W. Pabst gripes about censorship of his two Louise Brooks films

While looking through Parisian newspapers while working on Around the World with Louise Brooks (my forthcoming two volume transnational look at Brooks' career), I came across a couple of noteworthy interviews with director G. W. Pabst. In one of them (the second piece, shown below), he complained about French censorship of his films, including the two films he made with Louise Brooks. 

The occasion for Pabst's complaint was his visit to Paris in January 1931, which prompted a few Parisian newspapers to profile and interview the Austrian-born director.  The article pictured to the right was published in Comœdia on January 30, 1931.

Why were French journalists interested in Pabst? At this point in his career, there were few directors as esteemed by French critics than Pabst. His silent and early sound films were highly regarded, especially Joyless Street (1925), The Love of Jeanne Ney (1927), Loulou / Pandora's Box (1929), Diary of a Lost Girl (1929), and Westfront 1918 (1930). Despite the high regard in which they were held, French censors still excised so much of Pabst's two Brooks' films that it annoyed both the director and French critics, who complained time and again about the sorry state of each film. (I have run across a number of articles about the two Brooks' films in which newspaper and magazine writers said they were aware each film had been cut.)

In France, Pandora's Box went under the titles Le Boite de Pandore, or Loulou, while The Diary of a Lost Girl went under the title Le Journal d'une Fille perdue and Trois pages d’un journal. The latter was a huge success, showing continuously for more than a month after debuting in Paris. (This was at a time when most films showed for only a week.)

I won't translate the entire article pictured left; it appeared in Le Quotidien on February 6, 1931 and takes the form of a profile, within which are interspersed Pabst's answers to various questions asked by "L.D.", the author of the piece.

The article begins by stating that everyone was pleased that the acclaimed director was in Paris, where he was considering taking on the direction of a French film.

The second to last paragraph is of special interest. In translation, it reads: "I have never been lucky in France with my films. None escaped the censor's chisel. Two of my films: The Diary of a Lost Girl and Pandora's Box (Loulou) have been altered in their fundamental meaning. Even in Germany I was not immune from such severity; thus The Diary of a Lost Girl was cut by nearly three hundred meters, all in small pieces. But at least the meaning of the film remained the same."

The article concludes, "There is no bitterness in Pabst's voice. He is no longer fixed on the past. He stretches his strength and his heart towards the next work which will be a great humane film. Ten minutes later he jumps on the train which brings him back to Berlin."

To me, Pabst's comments are revealing. It had been well more than a year that both of his Brooks's had shown in Paris, and even longer since their German debut. Yet, they were still on his mind, or on the mind of French journalists.

Does anyone know if French censorship records still exist, or or accessible?

 

 

Interesting reading, and another fascinating non-Louise Brooks find

Here is some more interesting reading, and another fascinating non-Louise Brooks find. It is an article published in an English film magazine by Basil Wright titled "Who Killed the Vamp?" By this time, the mid-1930s, Brooks had pretty much disappeared from the screen, and was mostly forgotten. Thus, it is not surprising that this article doesn't mention some of her contemporaries and compatriots, like Clara Bow.

And for good measure, here is a picture of Brooks at her most vampish....

A few fascinating non-Louise Brooks finds

While researching Louise Brooks for my forthcoming book, Around the World with Louise Brooks, I too often come across all sorts of intriguing articles and images which have little or nothing to do with the actress. I try to resist them, and to stay focused on the project at hand. However, sometimes I give in and save something of interest with the intention of sharing. Here are a few recent finds.

The first is a page of delicious images of the lovely Marlene Dietrich, Brooks' one-time rival for the role of Lulu in Pandora's Box. The page comes from Paris-plaisirs : revue mensuelle esthétique et humoristique, a French publication. It dates from April 1930.

If you have seen The Blue Angel, and I hope you have, you will recall that an older character, Professor Immanuel Rath (played by Emil Jannings), was attracted to the youthful Lola Lola (played by Dietrich). 

Speaking of Professors, here is another recent find, a snapshot of Douglas Fairbanks leading a class on film at the University of Southern California. This clipping comes from a French film journal, and dates to February, 1929. I wonder if Fairbanks' son, Doug Jr., who appeared in the 1926 Brooks' film The American Venus, sat in on the class? Whatever the answer, I would guess this class more or less marks the beginning of film studies!

One of my favorite filmmakers of the silent era is Erich von Stroheim. I came across this 1937 article about the director which is essentially an interview -- which I think is fascinating. Too bad von Stroheim and Brooks never worked together. Oh what perverse delights would have resulted.

And for good measure here is something else I spotted on Facebook, a screen capture or film still from Billy Wilder's Menschen am Sonntag (1930), another film you really should see if you haven't. Known as People on Sunday, the film follows a group of residents of Berlin on a summer's day. It is beautiful, and evocative. What I find interesting about the image below are the postcards of film stars thumb-tacked to the wall. Brooks is not among them, but I do spot images of Garbo, Harold Lloyd, and second/third from the pretty actress' nose, Esther Ralston, the star of The American Venus.

Can you find the Louise Brooks film in this Czech page of movie ads?

Faust and Ben Hur and Battleship Potemkin -- as well as films starring Pola Negri and Gloria Swanson!  Can you find the Louise Brooks film in this Czech page of movie ads? It comes from Prague, and dates from December 1926.

 

More on Adolfo Bioy Casares and Louise Brooks

Along with having mentioned Louise Brooks in two interviews (see previous blog), the Argentine writer Adolfo Bioy Casares (1914 – 1999) also wrote about her in his memoir and his diaries.

In his Memories (1994), Bioy wrote of his disillusionment over the decline of the screen career of one of his (and our) favorite actresses.  Here is the passage from the memoirs in which he discusses Brooks and his love of early film.

Progresivamente me aficioné a las películas, me convertí en espectador asiduo y ahora pienso que la sala de un cinematógrafo es el lugar que yo elegiría para esperar el fin del mundo.

Me enamoré, simultánea o sucesivamente, de las actrices de cine Louise Brooks, Marie Prévost, Dorothy Mackay, Marion Davis, Evelyn Brent y Anna May Wong.

De estos amores imposibles, el que tuve por Louise Brooks fue el más v ivo, el mas desdichado. ¡Me disgustaba tanto creer que nunca la conoscería! Peor aún, que nunca volvería a verla. Esto, precisamente, fue lo que sucedió. Despuesde tres o cuatros películas, en que la vi embeselado, Louise Brooks desapareció de las pantallas de Buenos Aires. Sentí esa desaparición, primero, como un desgarriamento; después, como una derrota personal. Debía admitir que si Louise Brooks hubiera gustado al público, no hubiera desaparecido. La verdad (o lo que yo sentía) es que no sólo pasó inadvertida por el gran público, sino también por las personas que yo conocía. Si concedían que era linda – más bien ‘bonitilla’ – , lamentaban que fuera mala actriz; si encontraban que era una actriz inteligente, lamentaban que no fuera más bella. Como ante la derrota de Firpo, comprobé que la realidad y yo no estábamos de acuerdo.

Muchos años despés, en París, vi una película (creo que de Jessua) en que el héroe, como yo (cuando estaba por escribir Corazón de payaso, uno de mis primeros intentos literarios), inconteniblemente echaba todo a la broma y, de ese modo, se hacía odiar por la mujer querida. El personaje tenía otro parecido conmigo: admiraba a Louise Brooks. Desde entonces, en mi país y en otros, encuentro continuas pruebas de esa admiración, y también pruebas que la actriz la merecía. En el New Yorker y en los Cahiers du cinéma leí articulos sobre ella, admirativos e inteligentes. Leí, asimismo, Lulú en Hollywood, un divertido libro de recuerdos, escrito por Louise Brooks.

En el 73 o en el 75, mi amigo Edgardo Cozarinsky me cito una tarde en un cafe de la Place de L’Alma, en Paris, para que conociera a una muchacha que haria el papel de Louise Brooks en un filme en preparacion. Yo era el experto que debia decirle si la muchacha era aceptable o no para el papel. Le dije que si, no solamente para ayudar a la posible actriz. Es claro que si me huberian hecho la pregunta en tiempos de mi angustiosa pasion, quiza la respuesta hubiera sido distinta. Para me, entonces, nadie se parecia a Louise Brooks.

 

With the help of the web and an Argentine friend, I have made a translation of the above passage and have come up with something inelegant, but still interesting.

Over time, I fell in love with movies, I became a regular viewer and now I think I want to wait for the end of the world on the seat of a movie theater..

I fell in love, simultaneously or successively, with the film actresses Louise Brooks, Marie Prevost, Dorothy Mackaill, Marion Davies, Evelyn Brent and Anna May Wong.

 

Of these impossible loves, I was most passionate about Louise Brooks, and it made me miserable. I hated that I could never know her! Worse, one never saw her again. This is exactly what happened. After three or four movies, I was spellbound, and Louise Brooks disappeared from the screens of Buenos Aires. I felt that disappearance, first, as a tearful break; then as a personal loss. Had she been better liked by the public, I feel Louise Brooks would not have disappeared. The truth (or what I felt) is that she was little known to the public, and also to people I knew. Granted she was cute – rather ‘pretty’ – though others complained she was a bad actress; if they found her a clever actress, they regretted that she was not more beautiful. Just like before the defeat of Firpo [the Argentine boxer who lost to Jack Dempsey], I proved that reality and me disagreed.

Many years later in Paris, I saw a movie (I think by [Alain] Jessua) in which the hero, like me (when I was wrote Heart of a Clown, one of my first literary attempts), took everything as a joke and consequently was hated by the woman he loved. That character, like me, admired Louise Brooks. Lately, here in Argentina and elsewhere, there is a renewed assessment and growing admiration for the actress, which is deserved. I read admiring and intelligent articles about her in the New Yorker and the Cahiers du Cinéma. I also read Lulu in Hollywood, a diverting memoir, written by Louise Brooks.

In 73 or 75, my friend Edgardo Cozarinsky asked me one afternoon in a cafe in the Place de l’Alma in Paris if I know a girl who would play Louise Brooks in a film which was in preparation. I was the expert who was to say if the girl was acceptable or not for the role. I said yes, not only to help the possible actress. Clearly, if I had been asked the question during my anguished passion, perhaps the answer would have been different. To me, no one seemed to be Louise Brooks.

Boiy's diaries were later edited (by Daniel Martino) and published in Spanish under the title Descanso De Caminantes : Diarios intimos (2001). Bioy's original diaries run some 20,000 pages, and there are a few passages touching on Brooks and the writer's love of early film. In 1977, Bioy wrote: 

"Por mi ideal de belleza femenina ha variado a lo largo del tiempo: preferí primero a las morenas atezadas, a las «chinitas» de mi país. Después me gustaron las de piel muy blanca y pelo negro: fue la época en que agonizaba de amor por la actriz Louise Brooks. Después me gustaron las pelirrojas y después, las rubias. Siempre me gustaron las jóvenes."

OR

"My ideal of feminine beauty has varied over time: I first preferred the dark-haired brunettes, the "chinitas" from my country. Then I liked very white skin and black hair: it was the time when I was dying of love for the actress Louise Brooks. Then I liked redheads and then blondes. I always liked younger women."

And in 1982, Bioy wrote:

"Cuando yo estaba enamorado (desde mi butaca del cine) de la actriz Louise Brooks, hacia el 23 o el 30, nadie compartía mi admiración. Hoy en día hasta los ridículos pedantes de los Cahiers du Cinéma la elogian."

OR

"When I was in love (from my seat at the cinema) with the actress Louise Brooks, between 1923 and 1930, no one shared my admiration. Today even the ridiculous critics of the Cahiers du Cinéma praise her."