Friday, February 16, 2024

Wallace Beery | The Sweedie Comedies / 1914-1916

the sweedie comedies: 29 short silent films

by Douglas Messerli

 

Between 1914 and 1916 Wallace Beery, generally working with Ben Turpin, made 29 silent comedies about an ungainly Swedish girl, Sweedie, whose rough manner and heavy Swedish accent keeps her at work mostly as maids, cooks, cleaning women, laundresses, and clerks, although she also at moments lives with her family, entertains royalty, and even goes to college. In drag Beery portrayed Sweedie and sometimes her family members and lovers, probably serving for most of these generally 12-minute shorts as the writer and director as well. He is listed as both only in the 1916 short, evidently the last of the series.


    The various episodes—18 released in 1914, 10 in 1915, and 1 in 1916—despite their rather course humor and their often slapstick comic antics, were extremely popular with audiences of the day. 

    The first mention of the series I encountered was early in the pages of Vito Russo’s The Celluloid Closet in passing connection with the drag works of Fatty Arbuckle and Harold Lloyd in relationship to later works such as Some Like It Hot and La Cage aux Folles. His book also contains a photo of Beery performing in one of the series. Whether or not Russo actually saw any of the Sweedie works is questionable. I was able to find and see only two of the films, Sweedie Learns to Swim and Sweedie the Laundress, the latter of which unfortunately is mistitled Sweedie Learns to Swim on the internet, although they are very different stories.

     Fortunately, The IMDb site briefly describes—in often almost incomprehensible language taken it appears from the Essanay Film Company catalogue—the basic plot or set-up. I have briefly attempted to translate these descriptions for each film into everyday English, but of course I can attest only to the reliability of my recounting of Sweedie the swimmer and the laundress, and if these serve as evidence for the whole, the plots are far more determined by incident and perhaps even Beery’s and Turpin’s improvisation than being loyal on written scripts.

     Nonetheless, these descriptions will give the reader a strong sense of the silliness and even absurdity of these drag performances. The very fact that Beery, unlike Fatty Arbuckle, did not at all look convincing as a woman only added to the audiences’ delight. We might even think of these various short films as serving a function similar in our own time to a TV comedy series, with skits perhaps with someone like Milton Berle.

      The element in them all that seems to be a constant is that the odd and quite plain-looking Swedish miss repeatedly falls in love only to have her romantic hopes and desires dashed by males who haven’t yet recognized her charms and the natural gifts she offers. If Sweedie is a hopeless romantic and even a dreamer, the new world in which she discovers herself does not seem to offer much in the way of the American Dream, even if, at moments, she discovers herself temporarily courted by sultans or inheriting wealth. Sweedie will always remain a janitor or a char woman at heart.

 

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Sweedie the Swatter / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Mrs. Highstrung certainly feels up to her name on the occasion of having just lost her maid at the very moment that she receives a telegram from dear friends who announce that they will arrive in town just in time for lunch.

     Her hired man, Jim, however, tells her that he knows of a good Swedish cook, who Mrs. Highstruck sends Jim immediately to fetch. Unfortunately, the new maid cannot cook and the meal she attempts ends in disaster, leading to her mistress’ anger, as she prepares to fire her. Apparently the comedy consists of the numerous ways in which the new cook, obviously Sweedie (Wallace Beery), successfully attempts to evade both her mistress and the guests.

 

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Sweedie and the Lord / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Lord Bunkum has just sent a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Skidoo (Charlotte Mineau) that he is coming for a visit. But the Skidoos apparently have had unpleasant dealings with Bunkum in the past and determine they will not be home when he arrives, asking Sweedie (Beery) to simply inform his Lordship that they have been called away on business.

     By accident a tramp finds the Lord’s letter, which Mr. Skidoo has dropped upon their skedaddle. With the hope of a good meal and a warm bed, the tramp decides to impersonate the Lord. Sweedie, meanwhile, has decided to dress up as Mrs. Skiddo. The two meet up in what is described as a hilarious dinner party which the returning Skiddos evidently interrupt, putting both the bogus lord and poor Sweedie into duck soup.

 

 

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Topsy-Turvy Sweedie / 1914 || lost film or unavailable



The poet Mr. Rhyme (Leo White) is totally distracted from his creations by the various noises in his home. And if that weren’t enough, his aunt arrives, bringing along her menagerie of pets, along with her cook, Sweedie, who apparently has a penchant for free-for-all battles, throwing pies and rolling-pins at whoever she perceives as her combatants. Eventually, Sweedie drives the mad poet from his own home, she taking possession of the now quieted domain.



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Sweedie and the Double Exposure / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

The son of the house has been given a camera, and in his eagerness to experiment with it, he snaps a picture of the family cook, Sweedie as she sits on a bench in the back yard. Later he takes a picture of his father on the same bench, but forgets that it is necessary to turn the handle to move the frame forward, and, accordingly, his picture results in a double exposure, showing what seems to be Sweedie sitting on his father’s lap. The naughty brat runs to show the picture to his mother.

     Upset by what she witnesses with her own eyes, she scolds her husband severely, while he can simply not explain the phenomenon, certainly having no memory of the cook sitting on lap, his lack of memory resulting in another row.

     The rascal can’t contain himself for having created such a strange picture and shows it the ice man and milkman as well, both of whom have been fighting for Sweedie’s hand. Together they seek out their apparent rival, flooring him in revenge.

 

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Sweedie Springs a Surprise / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Sweedie is now working as the cook for the Prim household; her master, who is three feet shorter than Sweedie, finds her rather ungainly and course, determining to discharge her. But he finds it difficult, especially when she handles him like a rag doll. Consulting a friend, Mr. Prim is told that the couple are leaving the country that evening so their maid will be available.

     The maid, quite a bit shorter than Prim and very delicate, delights him. He hires a taxi to take her home, awarding her a bouquet of flowers and a box of candy. But to his dismay, as he enters the house Sweedie greets the new girl with open arms, describing her as a “bane sister,” in fact her real long-lost sister. Together they walk out arm-in-arm, leaving Mrs. Prim to do the cooking.

 

 

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Sweedie’s Skate / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Wearing her employer’s jewels without permission, Sweedie decides to visit a skating rink, where suddenly finds herself the most popular roller skater on the floor. Having never before skated, she finds it difficult to keep standing, but her fellow skaters are all seemingly ready to lend her an arm, and two of her admirers get into a brawl about who gets to skate with the bejeweled lady.

     The police are called, but when they arrive Sweedie observes they are led by her employer, who, frantic over her lost baubles, demands Sweedie’s immediate arrest. The husky girl, however, determines to not be taken and rushes forward, finally knocking to the floor nearly everyone in the rink.

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Sweedie’s Clean-Up / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

In this episode Sweedie’s father is a grocer (Robert Bolder) who each day makes Sweedie take care of the customers while he and a friend play checkers. Sweedie meanwhile is in love with a policeman, and at every possible moment sneaks off to hold hands with him and whisper of their love for one another.

     One day when the father and his friend are deeply involved in a checker game, and Sweedie has momentarily escaped, two burglars (Leo White and Frank Hamilton) enter the store and remove every last item, including the chairs on which the checker players are seated. Sweedie, seeing what has occurred attempts, unsuccessfully rouses the attention of the two players, while the burglars bind her and stick her in the wagon which they have filled with the stolen foodstuffs. Eventually the police find her still bound up, and everyone gives chase, her boyfriend in the lead finally capturing the thieves.

 

 

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Golf Champion ‘Chick’ Evans Links with Sweedie / 1914 || lost film or unavailable



The western amateur golf champion of the day, “Chick” Evans makes a cameo appearance in this short film on the adventures of Sweedie. Once more, Sweedie is a cook for a noveau-riche family, the Riches (with Leo White as the husband and Charlotte Mineu as his wife) who treat her rather badly until she suddenly receives a letter from her uncle who leaves her an “immense fortune.”

      Suddenly her employers are very interested in her well-being, as they help her to dress properly in fine clothes, and insist, as a society woman that she now needs to learn how to play golf, taking her off to their golf club. There she meets “Chick” Evans who determines he will attempt to teach her the game.

     With Sweedie intent upon swinging the club as if it were a baseball bat, he has little success. And she finally hits the ball with such a terrible wallop that it ruins the game for almost all those on the course. A call is sent into the police for her disturbance, at the very moment that the delighted Sweedie orders up the delivery of her fortune to the club itself. The fortune arrives, whereupon Sweedie discovers that the “fortune” consists only of cigar coupons.

     When the police arrive, given Sweedie’s disappointment, as the saying goes, “all hell breaks loose.”

 

 

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The Fickleness of Sweedie / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

In this short, two rivals seek Sweedie’s love, Henry Bigger, a short fat man, and Danny Slimson, a short slim boy. By “accident” Danny, peeking through Sweedie’s window, observes her reading a letter from a man, assuming it is from Henry. In fact, it is a letter from Sweedie’s landlord demanding payment of her rent. Sweedie rushes out to find Henry, while Danny sneaks into her room to further explore the situation.

     Upon the return of Sweedie with Henry in tow, Danny hides in a hole in her mattress, which incomprehensibly Sweedie suddenly determines she now needs to sew up. When the mattress begins to move of its own volition, Sweedie and Henry become horror-stricken and call the police, who soon find themselves on the chase as the mattress runs off.

     Finally captured, the mattress is brought into the police station, and when opened, Danny falls out into the arms of the forgiving Sweedie.

 

 

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Sweedie Learns to Swim / 1914

 

In this episode, still available to viewers, Sweedie works as a cook for another well-to-do family again named the Riches (Leo White and Betty Brown) who live near a lake beach. One day, looking out of her kitchen window, Sweedie is lured by the waters and determines to discover its wonders. Dressing up in her finery, she heads for the beach only to be waylaid by other young girls like herself, who mock her, and run off to the beach without her.


     Not to be deterred, as Sweedie never is, she soon joins them as they sit on the sand, a book by their side on “How to Swim.” But the moment they spot her, they again run off, she picking up the book to read it.

     Before long she has met the chief of the Beach Life Savers (Ben Turpin) who also encourages her to learn how to swim, instructing her on some basic strokes. But suddenly she recalls her duty to finish the meal for her employers and their guests and rushes back home just in time to serve up, somewhat distractedly, their dinner.

     The next day she rushes to the beach, this time properly dressed in the period swimwear for ladies, the head Life Saver attending to her and once again suggesting some on-land maneuvers. For a moment she joins the beachside classroom of Martin Delaney, evidently an off-screen swimming instructor, but she’s quickly sent off, when she clumsily falls to the ground even during exercises.

      On this day, the Riches have friends over once again for a card party, and Sweedie is able to sneak back in and run upstairs to change without their even noticing. But once in the bathroom, swimming book in hand, she begins to read once more how to learn how to swim on dry land. Filling the bathtub, she begins to act out some of the suggested strokes, in the process splashing vast amounts of the water onto the floor. Soon the floor is filled with water several inches deep, and she begins to practice some of the dives: the Australian Splash, the Chinese Side-Swiper, etc.


      As one might expect, the water begins to drip from the floor onto the downstairs table upon which the Riches and their friends have posted their cards, and just as suddenly a huge chunk of plaster falls upon them, water pouring in massive amounts down upon them. Even as they attempt to rush upstairs, they find it difficult to forge the waterfalls the staircase has become.

        Mrs. Rich calls the Beach Police, and they, much like the comic Keystone cops, eventually make their way, still in their bathing suits, to the house, where together with the guests finally push their way through the door to find Sweedie still studying her dives.


      She rushes out, the Beach Police on the chase, she somehow slithering through a drainpipe that leads to a small chute into the ocean. Having made it through to the other side, Sweedie awaits, club in hand, the arrival of each of her pursuers, one by one clubbing them over the head before delivering their bodies into the cold lake waters.

      Clambering up the incline from whence they were dropped, they go on the chase once again, this time winding up on the beach where they finally corner Sweedie and club her into submission.

      Locked up in a jail cell, the cocky cook takes the water from her washbasin, wets down the cell bench, and moves into a stomach position to practice more of her swimming strokes.

 

 

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She Landed a Big One (aka She Landed a Lord) / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

One day, tired of their fruitless relationship, Sweedie tells her beau (Harry Dunkinson) that it’s finished, she’s through with him. So disconcerted with the news is he, that he determines to end it all by taking a leap into the lake.

      Fortunately, a stranger (Leo White) prevents him from completing the act. And the do-gooder attempts to save yet another life when he attempts to help Sweedie at the very moment she has a big fish on her line which momentarily pulls her into the waters and drags her across the lake. He calls the police who in a motorboat chase after Sweedie and her fish, finally assisting her and helping her reel in her magnificent catch. But at that very moment, the hook breaks, allowing the fish to get away. Furious with their lifesaving attempts, Sweedie dumps them all, the Chief of Police (Ben Turpin), the stranger, and another fisherman, into the waters and moves forward, reel in hand, to again try her luck.

 

 

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Sweedie the Laundress / 1914

 

The tailor (Robert Bolder) receives a note from Bessie (Charlotte Mineau) that she would like to join him for dinner that evening, having herself just broken up with her hairdresser lover (Leo White).

     So excited is the tailor that he immediately calls in his errand boy (Ben Turpin) ordering him to procure two meals and wine for the evening’s festivities. At that very moment, however, Sweedie shows up with a note from the tailor promising to marry her within the span of 6 months. Those months having now passed, she demands he live up to his promise.


     He attempts to calm her down, and meanwhile retreats to determine how he can proceed. While waiting, Sweedie happens upon the note from Bessie and grows furious with her lover’s betrayal. The hairdresser soon calls, angry as well with the tailor for having stolen his lover. Together Sweedie and he quickly plot a trick to get revenge and lure back their errant loved one.

      Sweedie writes a note to the tailor that having learned of his unwillingness to immediately marry her, she has drowned herself in a vat of dye. The two plotters quickly dress up a dummy and plunge her head down in a deep bucket in the back room, making it took that, indeed, Sweedie has carried through with her threat.

 























  Upon discovering the letter and checking out the back room where he spots what appears to be the dead girl laying headfirst in a bucket, the tailor wails and weeps in distress, his conscience troubling him so badly that he behaves almost irrationally. But then, the food is about to arrive, and Bessie is so very lovely....

      To prick his conscience once again, Sweedie shows up this time in a male “drag” pretending to be Sweedie’s brother who has come to pick up Sweedie’s laundry. Once more the tailor, stricken with regret, wails and weeps as he declares that if she were only alive he would marry her in a moment.


     Bessie is about to arrive, and the poor suffering tailor is confused about what to do. Once more retreating to his office, he too dons a disguise, returning to greet Bessie who, seeing the handsome young brother of the laundress, is attracted to him. Seeing that the tailor is no longer around, they sit down together to enjoy the supper, ordering the tailor in disguise to serve the wine, as they engage in a pleasant conversation.

      But at the very moment, the hairdresser comes out from hiding, chiding Bessie for her utter inconstancy for which, having no answer given the fact that she has left him for the tailor but is now dining with Sweedie’s brother, she is trapped.

 


     By this time the disguised tailor, having lost both women it appears, is in s frenzy. Bessie rejoins the hairdresser as the brother pulls off his disguise, revealing a living Sweedie, the tailor falling almost into a faint at the apparition. Enter the errand boy, who recognizing the tailor in his disguise, pulls off his employer’s fake mustache revealing his identity as well. All parties engage in a mad free-for-all until Bessie returns to the side of the hairdresser and the tailor falls into Sweedie’s ready embrace.

      From the Essany catalogue description, it appears the script declared the end of the film much earlier, before the tailor disguised himself. Obviously the absurd last scenes must have been a last minute decision or improvised on the spot.

 

 

 

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Sweedie the Trouble Maker / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Sweedie cannot choose between her two admirers which one she would like to marry. Her parents most definitely prefer Fritz, the fat little German (Robert Bolder), which makes it clear to Sweedie that she should marry Leo (Leo White).

     The very next day Leo shows up in disguise, dressed as a debonair actor. Sweedie’s parents absolutely love him, suddenly declaring that he is the most suitable man they have yet met for their daughter’s hand. A justice of the peace (Ben Turpin) is quickly summoned, and the ceremony is performed. Too late, the father discovers that he has been deceived and sends for the police. Naturally when the police arrive Sweedie proves a veteran battler in the free-for-all that follows.

 

 

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Countess Sweedie / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Countess Von Swatt goes slumming, visiting a “hash house” where Sweedie works. While there, she accidentally loses one of her calling cards, which Sweedie discovers. Strangely enough, the very next day an invitation to Mr. Wealth’s grand ball is mistakenly delivered to Sweedie. How can she resist? Sweedie determines to attend the ball as the Countess.

     With a waiter friend from her restaurant (Ben Turpin), Sweedie arrives at the ball, introduced to the waiting guests as the Countess Von Swatt, based on the card she has presented. But in the midst of the announcement, Sweedie stubs her toe on the staircase and falls down the stairs landing on her bottom.

     This appears to actually lighten up the affair, and nearly all of the guests suddenly pay close attention to her as she attempts to demonstrate the latest dances. In the midst of her and the waiter’s rendition of the “Sweedish tango,” the real countess arrives, and, as the couple rush for the door, they are captured, forced to spend the night in jail. At least, Sweedie ponders, she has been a Countess for a short while in her increasingly memorable life.

 

 

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Sweedie at the Fair / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

This episode is one of the strangest yet. A cook, once again in the Rich household, Sweedie has apparently purchased a donkey from the chief of police, but forgets to pay for it. Angry about the nonpayment, the chief has the house raided in order to get his money. Sweedie is understandably fired from her job.

      Now short money and without a job, Sweedie takes her donkey to the county fair, hoping to win a few cash prizes. When the donkey fails to win any ribbons, Sweedie removes a ribbon from one of the prize horses, but unfortunately is caught in the act. With the police now hot on her “tail,” she ties her pet in a racing car and speeds along the track with the police in pursuit. Driving her auto into a tent, a terrible explosion occurs, wrecking the machine.

 

 

 

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A Maid of War / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

As Sweedie studies a war map (one must remember that the Sweedie films appeared at the very start of World War I) in a bar which she tends, two bums enter and proceed to order up wine and begin to drink it; but when she demands payment they dash out without paying. As everyone seems to do in these Sweedie movies, she calls the police who go on hot pursuit of the deadbeats, Sweedie following along.

     By this time, however, the police are so far ahead of her, she’s not certain which building they entered in the chase, and believing it to be the door where she has just reached, she rushes in, causing a huge commotion, finally realizing that she has just interrupted a wedding in progress. The guests jump her and a massive melee takes place, Sweedie being saved only by the intervention of the bridegroom.

     Having completely broken up the wedding, Sweedie abashedly leaves, strangely enough, accompanied by the bridegroom. Together they return to the bar, where they discover the two bums have reentered, opening up all the faucets to the wine barrels. Finding them hiding in a corner, she drags them out, waging a royal battle as they all roll about in wine up to their knees.

 

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Sweedie and the Hypnotist / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

Sweedie now works as a scrub lady in a theater. But for being so impertinent as to flirt with the stage manager and the hypnotist who performs there (Ben Turpin and Harry Dunkinson), she is let go. The following day while feeding her chickens, she falls asleep to dream that she has been left a fortune by her uncle and is now being courted by both the manager and the hypnotist.

      So entranced by her is the hypnotist that he casts a trance on the manager to keep him apart from his true love. But there comes a moment when the manager, seeing his opportunity, shoves the hypnotist in a trunk and locks it up. But through a few simple motions, the hypnotist manages an escape, lying in wait for the manager to return. In the meantime, he and Sweedie share caresses until she awakens to find a goat on her lap.

 

 

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Sweedie Collects for Charity / 1914 || lost film or unavailable

 

A cook once more, Sweedie now works for Mrs. Goodheart, a charity worker who returns home one evening to describe her discouragement of having been unable to get even the smallest of donations from the millionaire Mr. Tightwad. The always positive-thinking Swedish girl decides that she will try her luck with the old man herself.

      Visiting his office, she is denied admittance. In response she almost breaks down his door, but when she finally is offered admittance he outright refuses to give her a cent. Sweedie rolls up her sleeves and his ready to give him a good licking until, perceiving that she means business, he agrees to whatever amount she demands.

       Soon after, laden down with groceries they have purchased with the unexpected funds, Sweedie and Mrs. Goodheart visit a poor family to deliver up their goods.

       But suddenly Mr. Tightwad shows up with a policeman, apparently to claim that the money that was “stolen” from him. Sweedie gives him a good hard look, and he shrinks back, offering her even more money than before. Mrs. Goodheart and the family are amazed by their luck, and even Sweedie marvels at her success.

 

 

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Sweedie and the Sultan’s Present / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

While reading in the kitchen, Sweedie falls asleep. She dreams that the Sultan of Puff Puff, Kao Yama (Ben Turpin) has sent her a present, a servant. But, she explains to his messengers, her husband would certainly object to having a slave around the house. The messengers warn her that those who refuse the Sultan’s gifts are put to death.

     Sweedie, determined that she is to refuse the present, prepares for the worst, but at that moment, Swipes, her husband enters demanding to know who are these strange men in her kitchen. She attempts to explain to him that they come from the Sultan, which even further outrages him, and demands their ejection. Fearing for her life, she takes up a butcher knife, preparing to the kill the messenger, but suddenly wakes up to find her husband on his knees, begging for her mercy.

 

 

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Sweedie’s Suicide / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

Jilted yet again by her sweetheart, this time another captain of the police department, Sweedie finally decides to kill herself. She writes a note and calmly prepares for the end. But at that very moment “tricksters” (Robert Bolder, Leo White, and Charlotte Mineau) arrive and inject “dope” into her system, putting her asleep. They erect a tombstone beside her. ....This is what the Essany catalogue entry says as reported by IMDb.

     Upon awakening, Sweedie doesn’t know whether she’s alive or a ghost. She returns home, only to discover that she cannot make herself seen or heard. Her family is so overcome with grief, she is convinced that she must be a ghost.

      Her note is duly delivered to the police captain, and he attends to the grave followed by his force. Determined to discover whether she is truly dead or alive, she “sails in” and almost annihilates the entire department.

 

 

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Sweedie and Her Dog / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

Mr. Dingy engages Sweedie to be the family cook. But she insists on bringing along her dog “Skinny” as well as her parrot. Although Dingy (Leo White) hates dogs, he agrees to the deal so that he will not lose yet another cook. But on the way to his home, the dog catchers attack “Skinny,” forcing Sweedie to go into battle with the entire squad in order save her pet.

     Once she reaches the Dingy house, she is ordered to make the dinner. But worried about her dog, she instead gives him a bath in the dishpan, using the best linen napkins to dry him off.

     Soon she hears her boyfriend whistling for her over the back fence, and she cannot resist going for a ride with him in his hansom cab.

     While she was out, Mr. Dingy has beaten her dog, so she has no choice but to floor him for his abuse, certainly not a good way to begin a new job.  

 

 

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The New Teacher / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

Believe it or not, Sweedie is chosen by the country school board to be a teacher. The moment she appears at the schoolhouse, however, her pupils mock her as she becomes an easy target for their bean shooters and rubber bands. But no matter how hard she tries she cannot catch any of them in the act.

     Finally, however, she is forced to break up a fight between two of her students, Tim (Tommy Harper) and his rival (Harry Fagin) who are battling over a little girl, Sadie (Eleanor Kahn). Her peace-making efforts evidently return order to the school.

     And a while later one of the older members of the school board begins to pay especial attention to the new schoolteacher, causing a great deal of small-town gossip, ultimately leading to their demand that she be discharged. They win, but only temporarily since the students all threaten to leave the school unless she returns. The next morning Sweedie is back at the blackboard.

 

 

 

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Sweedie Goes to College / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

In her constant pursuit of something better, Sweedie, still a cook, reads an ad in the newspaper for a maid willing to offer her services in exchange for college tuition. Sweedie applies and is accepted.

     At the college dormitory the other girls cook a rarebit, an illegal act in their sleeping quarters. Hearing their giggles the dormitory matron, Mrs. Knowledge (Charlotte Mineau) approaches, the girls hiding their rarebit in Sweedie’s bed as they pretend sleep.

      Naturally, Mrs. Knowledge finds the forbidden dish and punishes the innocent new student. The moment she leaves a pillow fight ensues, with Sweedie being victorious.

      The very next day, Sweedie receives a note from her Romeo asking her to meet him at 11:00 P.M. so that they might elope. She tells him that she will wear a mask and asks him to do the same.

Soon after, another coed (Gloria Swanson) receives a similar note from her sweetheart suggesting the same thing. The result, strange but predictable perhaps in “Sweedieland,” is that all four elopers discover that they are about to be married to the wrong parties at the very last moment.

      Although later Swanson claimed that she hated the Sweedie series and performing in this episode was beneath her dignity, in fact it was her first major role, and she soon after fell in love and married Beery the following year, divorcing him two years later.

 

 

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Sweedie’s Hopeless Love / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

Sweedie is now in love with the grocery boy, ordering up groceries at every possible opportunity just to get a glimpse of his face. Unfortunately, she does at all appeal to the grocery deliverer (Ben Turpin), and he attempts to keep his distance.

     One day, while attempting to tell the boy of her love, Sweedie is suddenly faced with the arrival of her employer, Sweedie in her utter confusion pushing the grocery boy into a closet and locking it.

     That evening, when the man of the house returns, he unlocks the closet only to find himself face to face with the grocery boy. Reproaching his wife, he throws both Sweedie and her sweetheart into the street, the grocery boy managing to escape.

     Sometime later, however, he finds himself in a burning building, only to be rescued, so he later discovers, by Sweedie. Deciding that he’d rather die than get hooked up with Sweedie, he crawls back into the burning building.

 

 

 

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Sweedie Learns to Ride / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

Her arms covered with dough, Sweedie looks out through the kitchen to catch a glimpse of her mistress (Betty Brown) mounting her horse for her morning ride. Sweedie’s boring and tiresome life immediately becomes nearly unbearable for her she, determining that she too will learn how to ride a horse.

     Ringing up her current boyfriend (Ben Turpin), who just happens to be the captain of the mounted police squad, she tells him to bring over two horses who are prepared to canter. He is so in love with her that he barely bothers to ask her why. Sweedie, dressed in a modest riding outfit sets out to learn how to ride. Of course, she finds it difficult to mount the animal, and once mounted, she finds it difficult to get the animal to move and to stay on the horse.

     When the mistress returns from her ride to find her cook absent, she is not only annoyed but calls the police to find the girl and arrest her.

      The captain of the mounted police squad has no choice but to ride down his girlfriend and take her back home under arrest, where Sweedie finds herself cured of her interest that particular sport.

 

 

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Sweedie in Vaudeville / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

Now working as a scrubwoman for a vaudeville theater, Sweedie falls in love with the “props,” in this case human beings who work for the company as incidental workers, actors, or figures who serve the leads or appear in between the lead acts. In any event, she now becomes enthused with idea of having a stage career.

      Winning big in a local poker game, Sweedie suddenly finds herself with enough financial resources to try her luck with a theater career. At a booking office, she’s connected up with Slivers (Edmund Thompson), a three-hundred-pound dancer, as partner; and they get a gig on what is called the “ham and egg” circuit, dedicated to mediocre and untried talents. At the theater they are taken on as “mop artists,” those that close after the big acts when the crowds are thinning out.

      But when their turn comes to go on, the other “props,” jealous of her sudden rise in the theater, “crab” the act, attempting to sabotage with lights, sets, and other theatrical devices their performance. While Sweedie and Slivers dance, the wings fall in upon them as well as other normally inanimate props. Sweedie suffers for her art for a few moments before advancing on the “homeguard,” struggling to maintain possession of the stage.

 

 

*

 

 

Sweedie’s Hero / 1915 || lost film or unavailable


Sweedie is hired as a cleaning woman in a hotel, starting out from home encumbered with baggage and a pet dog. Arriving at the hotel she is immediately handed a mop and two pails and told to get to work.

     Her first mistake is to perceive the train of a woman’s gown as a mop, before accidentally overturning a dining table after being pushed in the dining room by an irate clerk.

     The hotel bellhop will not permit her to ride in the elevator, so she is forced to walk up ten flights of stairs, tripping and falling back down all ten again.

     She hazards the ledge of sixteenth floor to windows, but in so doing loses her balance and almost falls to her death. The nasty bellhop appears at the right moment and pulls her back in to safety again, she falling upon his neck and calling him “My Hero.”

 

 

*

 

 

Sweedie’s Finish / 1915 || lost film or unavailable

 

This time around, in what is truly the last true Sweedie film, she is a servant girl in love with a fireman (Arthur W. Bates), who like grocery boy before him does not return her affections. The fireman escapes her caresses by being called to a fire.

     The next day she finds him with another woman and knocks him about a bit in revenge. Soon she opens her own barbershop, her first customer, quite by accident, being the faithless fireman. And a bit like the Sweeney Todd of history provides him with an unpleasant shave, interrupted by the news—not the first time in the Sweedie series—that she has become an heiress.

      With that news, the fireman suddenly finds that he is very much in love with her, declaring that he wants to marry. To celebrate, they take a ride in Sweedie’s new car. The romance, however, ends when the car is swept up, presumably in a tornado, and they disappear from view.

 

*

 

 

Wallace Beery (screenwriter and director) Sweedie, the Janitor / 1916 || lost film or unavailable

 

This film was not truly meant to be, I should imagine, one of the “Sweedie” films since in this case Sweedie is apparently a man who is married. The script, for the first time, was also credited to Beery, as was the direction. Apparently this movie was so uninteresting, once he had rid himself of his drag personae, that even the people who wrote up the synopsis could find little say about it. I quote in full the IMDb entry:

 

“A janitor finds a piece of jewelry dropped by a young woman, which he in turn gives to his wife. Feeling sorry for the young woman, the janitor tries to straighten things out, with many funny complications.”

 

 

*

 

As a lost piece of pop culture, this series appears to very interesting in several respects, most notably that it represents the loves and adventures of a poor immigrant working girl but through the lens of a heterosexual male in drag. That contradictory viewpoint alone deserves extensive comment.

     Moreover, if I were a younger person seeking to discuss social or critical issues of the silent cinema I would want to further explore the relationship in these films between Sweedie and her employers’ dependency upon the social services of the police forces and the firemen, who are called into action in several of these episodes, while at the same time always posing a threat to the central figure. What’s even odder given that dichotomy of protector and threat, is that Sweedie, over and over, falls in love with policemen and firemen.

     Finally, one has to ask why a woman who in different moments along the way became a Countess, a teacher, taught herself how to swim and ride a horse, and began, at least, a college education, continually return to the professions of cook, maid, servant girl, barkeeper, clerk, and cleaning woman? Is Sweedie, ultimately, a unified character exploring a wide range of different experiences and different times in her life; or is Sweedie an amalgamation of immigrant Swedish women, rather like Gertrude Stein’s different portraits of working women in Three Lives?

 

Los Angeles, December 22, 2021

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2021).

Manoel de Oliveira | O Estranho Caso de Angélica (The Strange Case of Angelica) / 2010

the dead love

by Douglas Messerli

 

Manoel de Oliveira (screenwriter and director) O Estranho Caso de Angélica (The Strange Case of Angelica) / 2010

 

Based on his script of 1952, Manoel de Oliveira’s The Strange Case of Angelica has a kind of dated feeling to it, as if an early postwar film of ideas had gotten interleaved with a 1950s romance, making it somehow as ill-matched as are this work’s central characters, one a Sephardic Jew, Isaac (Ricardo Trépa), and the other, Angélica (Pilar López de Ayala), a devout Roman Catholic—one a very much alive young man and the other a woman who has recently died.

 


     On the other hand, perhaps, the handsome Isaac may not truly be that alive, and the dead woman, might not be truly dead. Isaac, a photographer, spends most of his life transforming living beings into still images, and, as he tells his well-meaning but intrusive landlady, Madam Justina (Adelaide Teixeira), he prefers to focus on people doing things in “the old ways,” snapping photos of day laborers who till an olive orchard by hand rather than using machines. Although the beautiful Angélica is reported as being dead by her wealthy family, she nonetheless, appears to open her eyes and beckon him when he attempts to photograph her, having been hired to create a picture for the family album. That eye-opening action later appears to be caught even within the photograph itself.



      When, soon after, Angélica begins to visit Isaac during the nights, taking her apparent new lover on magical flights over the city, Isaac can only wonder whether he’s losing his mind, or, at the very least, ponder whether he has been struck by antimatter that his well-educated fellow boarders keep discussing.

      The trouble is that we never do discover why the dead woman, wife to another grieving man, chooses to visit Isaac, or even how he has so quickly been smitten by her corpse.

       As always, director Oliveira beautifully composes every shot, and creates such a slow pace for his film that the viewer can savor every detail as if many scenes were themselves simply snapshots. The Strange Case of Angelica is clearly a movie about images, in which nearly every shot becomes a kind of picturesque still. But the problem is that once the director has set up this simple plot device he seems to have nowhere to go with it, and even the beauty of images cannot hide the stagnancy of his story.



      The boarders quote gnomic statements from Oretega y Gasset and other thinkers; Isaac picks up one of his books and reads a few lines of poetry speaking of just such an angel as he finds in Angélica; but nothing coherent is made of these events. The only trail of logic we are given comes in the form of the words of consternation and worriment from Madam Justina as she gossips with the others about Isaac’s increasingly bizarre behavior.

      And the final dénouement, in the form of the appearance of a bird flying in Isaac’s room during the night and the death of Madam Justina’s beloved caged bird the next morning, is so cryptically presented that we can only grasp at the reasons for Isaac’s immediate dash, soon after, across town to visit his ghost-lover’s crypt before he falls into a deathly faint.

  

   The actions of these last scenes are staged, moreover, so theatrically and artificially that we might as well be watching a kind of moralistic pageant play rather than the fantasy we thought we had been witnessing. What might have seemed to be a story in which a love that transcends even death seems to have become a kind of vampire tale.

      Is Isaac’s death a kind of warning for those who abandon their faith for emotional fulfillment, who give up everyday reality for pure sensate beauty? Surely the mix of photographs of the simple laborers hung beside that of his languid beauty suggest another kind of opposition within Isaac’s inner life.

     Or has the antimatter supposedly hovering in our upper atmosphere, like a kind of black hole, truly begun to swallow up, as the breakfasting pontificators suggest, the living?  If the film seems to hint at being a kind of fable, it is difficult to comprehend what it is telling us. Are we to take joy in Isaac’s and Angélica’s after-life romance or, as Madam Justina does, see it as an evil omen? Oliveira isn’t saying. It is simply “a strange case” in which the dead fall in love.

    

Los Angeles, December 10, 2010

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2010).

Thursday, February 15, 2024

Joel Coen | The Tragedy of Macbeth / 2021

a murder of crows

by Douglas Messerli

 

Joel Coen (screenwriter and director) The Tragedy of Macbeth / 2021

 

Any director who might wish to film Shakespeare is inevitably doomed simply by the history of the play, any Shakespeare play, and the various ways that its audiences, actors, directors, scholars, and so many others are convinced from either experience, interpretation, or mere personal preference about how the production should sound and look. Given the absolute richness of the Bard’s munificent contributions to mankind I might imagine that by this time we should all be open to the widest varieties of interpretation and representation, knowing as we do the long history of Shakespearean theater and film.

   

     But with every new production critics of all sorts, so-called professionals, and amateurs alike inevitably dive into the fray with their critiques. For Joel Coen—often toying, along with his brother Ethan, with being the bad boys of serious cinema—to take on one of Shakespeare’s most language-bound dramas Macbeth without even the help of his script-writing other seems more than audacious. And then to almost claim the authorship of the work—the credits read “Written for the screen as directed by Joel Coen,” based on the play by William Shakespeare—is nearly impudent, as if he were asking for all the pent-up emotions of so many individuals who feel that they alone might imagine the perfect production.

      Richard Brody of the New Yorker jumps right into the cauldron of shaming, in his very first paragraph beating him down to the size of a man he imagines with the largest of egos:

 

“Joel Coen’s The Tragedy of Macbeth is the kind of movie that a hero of the Coen brothers, Preston Sturges, mocked eighty years ago in his great film Sullivan’s Travels, about a famous comedy director who strains after relevance by turning his attention to a super-serious social drama. Macbeth, however, is more than a serious drama; it’s a ready-made showcase for inspired actors, and Coen’s cast is filled with some of the best. It’s a special form of cinematic torment when great performers are stuck in a misbegotten production, because the intrinsic pleasure of seeing them is overshadowed by a sense of waste, of artistry neglected by directorial willfulness or vanity. Denzel Washington, as Macbeth, and Frances McDormand, as Lady Macbeth, fit their performances to the movie’s narrow view of Shakespearean cinema, which reduces grandeur to petulance and poetry to decoration. The over-all effect is of a striving toward a high style that isn’t achieved—and that undercuts the mighty import of the play.”

 

     Basically, Brody argues, Coen’s Macbeth is centered upon its theatrical set at the expense of all else, particularly the language.

   

      There is no doubt that the architecture of Coen’s film is most certainly awe-inspiring, but not at all, it seems to me, as an attention-getting device or to create a presence larger than the actors and even Shakespeare’s language. What Coen has done in emptying his fog-hidden Scottish fens and glens of nearly all but its intruders and stripping the concrete castles of nearly every piece of furniture, tapestries, and personal objects is to create a stunningly abstract stage on which we might attend to character and language alone.

      If he cannot help but take his camera zooming in and out of the outrageously cavernous spaces of Macbeth’s castle in which human beings are utter diminished even before him (in this case Washington) and his loving wife (McDormand) increasingly determine to reduce life to something close to having no value, who can blame him? As any great director—and no matter what you think of his and Ethan’s gallery of cinematic rogues over the years, anyone who loves film has to recognize the Coens as significant filmmakers—might be tempted to, Coen swoops his camera up, down, and around, the vast spaces of his set in an attempt to see his figures from all perspectives, catching in the process, the shadows and their vaulted arches and arcades that, not just so accidentally, remind us of paintings by Giorgio de Chirico and other artists of the scuola metafisica.

 


      And yes, he has cut down the Shakespeare play to get to the grit of the story and language. Coen’s Macbeth, unlike Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood (1957) is not about warfare but about a man and a woman so possessed by a notion of fate, foretold almost like the promise of a lottery ticket by a shapeshifting crone (all three witches played in this case by the amazing performer Kathryn Hunter) who enigmatically proffer Macbeth the role of the King and his fellow soldier Banquo (Bertie Carvel) a future of producing later rulers of the country for which they have just done battle.

      In Coen’s version of the play, those two predictions quickly come to wipe away all other realities from his purview, particularly the fact that he might be simply celebrating for his wartime feats and his sudden title of the Lord of Cawdor, focusing instead on his plotting with his wife how to rush into the future by murdering their royal guest, King Duncan (Brendan Gleeson). It is as if the possibility of power has made him suddenly mad, an affliction which perhaps any generation can recognize in their own leaders; the only difference between Macbeth and someone like Donald Trump being that the Lord of Cawdor is still a man of some conscience and recognizes his own treachery, which later damns both him and Lady Macbeth to a life in their prison of guilt.

       Say what you will about Coen’s paring down of space and action, about his shift away from mimesis and logic, the abstract world which the characters now inhabit lets us totally attend to the true core of the work, its language.

        Given that few of these actors are trained in Shakespearian elocution, I would nonetheless argue that they mostly give remarkably credible readings of the play that for many contemporary viewers surely must still sound, despite the director’s and actor’s attempts to move the language from set speeches into the realm of everyday conversation, like they are speaking in a foreign language.

       Peter Bradshaw of The Guardian captures quite nicely what Coen has achieved:

 

Director Joel Coen...has delivered a stark monochrome nightmare, refrigerated to an icy coldness. With Shakespeare’s text cut right back, it’s a version that brings us back to the language by framing the drama in theatrical, stylised ways: an agoraphobic ordeal in which bodies and faces loom up with tin-tack sharpness out of the creamy-white fog.

.... And McDormand is of course Lady Macbeth here, a role she was born to play, bringing a hard-won domestic authority and her own sort of military determination to the plan to kill King Duncan.

     Macbeth is Denzel Washington, who portrays the Thane as already exhausted by his great triumph in the King’s cause at the very beginning, a moment at which he might be expected to look forward to retirement. Washington’s signature rolling swagger looks careworn, but his Macbeth submits to both the duplicitous supernatural promises and his wife’s demands like a soldier taking his orders. And then, angry and paranoid, he escalates his fanatical rule with a series of pre-emptive murders while McDormand’s Lady Macbeth retreats into horror and despair.

 

      To be honest, as much as I loved both McDormand’s and Washington’s performances, I found them at moments working somewhat out of their range. McDormand is perfect for the dark and detailed plotting, the cynical vision that paves the way for Macbeth’s increasing paranoia, but is not as good working at the full shrill pitch that her anger with her husband’s shockingly public admissions he makes under the spell of darkest moments of his growing insanity. Her own guilt, which becomes quickly operatic, sometimes takes McDormand—a true artist of the brutal understated quip—over the top, as if she perhaps stumbled into the mad scene of Lucia di Lammermoor instead of the steep concrete blocks which he is forced to descend and ascend in her sleep, and, in this version, apparently jump, as if from the turrets, in her despair.

      Washington is his best at performing in a low register of carefully inflected niceties that betray an unimagined world of chaos, but as a tyrant forced to madly bark out his orders to kill Banquo and his eldest son Fleance, and later to demand the immediate death of Macduff’s wife and children, he too moves out of his natural range.

       But then both of these actors are so brilliant that even when possessed by unthinkable language pouring from their tongues, we believe that they truly have been possessed by the evil spirits of which the black ravens give constant evidence. “Something wicked” has truly come their way and nothing they can do can any longer contain it. Power not only has completely corrupted them, but contorted them to unrecognizable beings whose behavior is no longer quite credible.

       Brendan Gleeson plays the too trusting King Duncan quite expertly, and if Harry Melling as Malcolm seems, at moments, a little ill-at-ease and even diffident in his role, so too is the future King, who Macbeth originally dislikes with good reason. Malcolm does not demonstrate a kingly mien, and does show the wisdom of his father, even though it is he who finally wins through the struggles of Macduff (Corey Hawkins) and the alternating betrayals of Ross (Alex Hassell).

       The Times’ Scott goes even further in his praise of the cast.

 

“And Coen’s version is, above all, a triumph of casting. By which I mean: Denzel Washington. Not only him, by any means: the ensemble of thanes and wives, hired killers and servants, witches and children is pretty much flawless. Kathryn Hunter is downright otherworldly as all three of the shape-shifting, soothsaying weird sisters. Stephen Root, in a single scene as Porter, lifts the grim, forensic business of regicide and its aftermath into the realm of knockabout farce. Alex Hassell plays Ross as a perfect paragon of courtly cynicism, always obliging and never to be trusted. Bertie Carvel’s Banquo and Corey Hawkins’s Macduff carry the burden of human decency with appropriate feeling.”

 

       Hawkins is particularly moving in his lamentations of the murders Macbeth has inflicted upon his family. And the only major action of the film comes in the form of his revenge of those murders with Macbeth’s almost willing participation. By this time Macbeth is tired of living in the tyranny he has created not only for others but for himself.


    But even that battle seems, in Coen’s telling, almost incidental. The real heart of his film lies in the personal relationships forged between individuals, the love of Duncan for Macbeth and Banquo, the perverted love story of the Macbeths themselves, Macduff’s relationship to his wife   (Moses Ingram), and finally, Ross’s strange protection and, at work’s end, seeming adoption of Macduff’s spared son Fleance, the child wonderfully realized by Lucas Barker. In each of these intense relationships there exists both deep love and betrayal, often simultaneously. Coen’s version, more than any other of productions I’ve seen of Macbeth opens up the question of why the betrayer of all the individuals, Ross, saves Fleance and carries him off at work’s close, particularly since he knows less than anyone what the witches have foretold. The final ride of Ross and Fleance into the deepening shadows of sunset is not in Shakespeare, but a creation of his own making, a kind of terrifying salvation of the throne. What is he, in the meantime going to do with this boy? The sudden blast of hundreds of ravens straight out of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds does not seem to suggest the good omen the boy’s salvation should have represented.

       Coen’s Macbeth may not be the Macbeth you’ve encountered previously, but it is a disturbing and profoundly moving version of Shakespeare nonetheless that deserves comparison with the cinematic Macbeths created by Orson Welles (1948), Kurosawa (1957), Andrzej Wajda (1962)   Roman Polanski (1971), Rosa von Praunheim (1971), and Justin Kurzel (2015)—and perhaps even the never realized, although planned and scripted version by Laurence Olivier. Of all of these, Coen’s is certainly the most beautifully realized work thanks to this director’s visual genius and the stunning cinematography of Bruno Delbonnel.

 

Los Angeles, January 7, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (January 2022).

Tom Hooper | The King's Speech / 2010

finding a voice

by Douglas Messerli

 

David Seidler (screenplay), Tom Hooper (director) The King's Speech / 2010

 

Tom Hopper's likeable film, The King's Speech, focuses its attention on the private problems of a very public figure, King George VI of England. For whatever reasons—the movie suggests psychological and physical abuse by his first nanny, the distant imperiousness of his father, King George V, and possibly even the mockery of his defects by his brother, Edward—"Bertie," as he was called at home, suffered a speech impediment of heavy stuttering. In an earlier age such a problem might have been well hidden, but in the growing industrial modernism of the pre-World War II years, radio and public broadcasts were growing in popularity, and the roles of the royal family increasingly imposed public speaking upon them.

 


    Seidler's script nicely overlays several events that force the future king to seek speech therapy. In fact, as early as 1925, Bertie began meeting with the idiosyncratic, Australian speech therapist Lionel Logue, and by the opening address at Australia's Federal Parliament in 1927 he spoke "with only slight hesitations." For the film version, his therapy is understandably pushed ahead to the year of his brother Edward VIII's inheritance of the throne, which he abdicated in December 1936 in order to marry his American, twice-divorced mistress, Wallis Simpson—propelling Albert, renamed George, to the role as King.

   Similarly, preparations for the British declaration of war against Germany, which occurred on September 3, 1939, are apparently backdated three years (unless I missed a huge narrative swath of time in the movie), so that the important speech about war George VI is forced to make, representing his cure, takes place shortly after his coronation.

     I can well understand this collapsing of time in relation to the potential drama surrounding the film's major focus, but unfortunately writer and director do not take advantage of the immensity of these events, only hinting, with a passing reference to the resignation of Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin—who had badly misread German determination to attack allies—of their full significance. It might have added a great deal of gravity and meaning of this film to contextualize the personal events within the failures of the next Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, to comprehend the insincerity of Hitler, and the importance of the King's later relationship with Winston Churchill. In all of these international situations, speech was of utter importance; had the King not been able to reduce his stutter, he might never have become the great favorite of the British people he was during those dark days of War, his daughter Elizabeth might never have come to power. Some advised that George's younger brother's son should inherit the throne.


     For all that, the marvel of this film is the superlative acting of all of its characters, particularly Colin Firth as King George VI and Geoffrey Rush as Lionel Logue (despite the fact that my ears could hear very little of an Australian accent in his performance). The two play off each in other in a manner so extraordinary that one often feels the movie is much deeper and profound in its character studies than it truly is. Rush plays Logue as an outsider, an eccentric commoner with little respect for or concern of royal distance and social separation, while Firth brings depth to his character by straddling the two worlds, maintaining his royal reserve, while simultaneously struggling against family secrets and even horrors. It is no wonder that the people felt close to him throughout his reign.

     The scene in which the reluctant King discovers he truly does have a voice, despite his impediment, is a perfect example of the acting skills of these two performers meeting up the wit of the script:

 

                                [Logue sits on the coronation throne]

              King George: Get up! Y-you can't sit there! GET UP!

              Logue: Why not? It's a chair.

              King George: T-that...that is Saint Edward's chair.

              Logue: People have carved their names on it.

              King George: L-listen to me...listen to me!

              Logue: Why should I waste my time listening to you?

              King George: Because I have a voice!

              Logue: ....Yes, you do.

 

    It is being in the presence of such actors and the marvelous ensemble that surrounds them that makes this film so close to great art, and the reason that I ultimately feel frustrated for its own temerity, for its refusal to incorporate the real world in which the lovely fable upon which this work is centered actually existed. 

 

Los Angeles, December 4, 2010

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2010).

Agnès Varda | Les Glaneurs et la Glaneuse (The Gleaners and I) / 2000

leaving something behind

by Douglas Messerli

 

Agnès Varda (screenwriter and director) Les Glaneurs et la Glaneuse (The Gleaners and I) / 2000

 

Part documentary, travelogue, personal meditation, a lecture on ethics, art exhibition, a series of interviews, and, at moments, simply a silly pastiche of film clips, Agnès Varda’s The Gleaners and I is nearly always entertaining and moving. Like its very subject, the act of gleaning, Varda’s film presents itself as a series of shots that come together as a kind of collection, drawing on images in various locations in France and even, for a few moments, pictures from the director’s trip to Japan. And in that sense, we can also perceive this work as a kind of demonstration of how a filmmaker—at least this filmmaker—puts together a movie.

 

     Beginning with Jean François Millet’s painting of the same name, Varda, mostly alone, sometimes with a small crew, sets out to discover whether there are still gleaners today. Do people still gather up the wheat and crops left behind after a harvest? Although some former women gleaners—it was once an activity exclusive to women—claim that such behavior is a thing of the past, we soon discover that large groups of men and women, including poor farmers, gypsies, and urban dwellers, still do gather up potatoes, cabbages, figs, apples, and grapes (although such activity in the grape fields is sometimes policed), along with whatever else they find left to rot. In cities, the poor and sometimes ethically-minded individuals gather at the food markets as they close each day to grab up the numerous tossed leftovers.



    Others, as we know, even in the US, are dumpster divers, mulling through the trash near grocery stores and restaurants to pick out still edible foods. At one such spot, Varda gathers together several street teens, a store manager who has sprayed his dumpster with bleach, and a judge who has sentenced the teens for vandalizing both store and dumpster after it was sprayed, trying to explain to each the problems with their behavior. The teens needed the free food, the store manager was outraged by the damage they did, and the judge was simply following the law, each presenting reality from their own viewpoints only.

     In the wine country in Provence, we meet a vintner, Jean Laplanche, who encourages gleaners to follow the grape harvesters, gathering up whatever is left behind. The kindly Laplanche, we soon discover, is also a psychoanalyst concentrating on theory.

 

    Back in Paris Varda meets with an ethically-minded young man who gathers food from dumpsters and markets simply to make a point of the society’s waste. Elsewhere, an award-winning chef explains that he uses every part of the animal, including bones for stock, and gleans his own herbs for the tables.

    Meanwhile, the film incorporates the filmmaker herself as an aging woman with a fascination with trucks (she frames them again and again through her wrinkled hands as if they themselves were a camera lens), art (she visits several museums to view other paintings of gleaners, and talks with artists, such as Louis Pons, who use found objects in their art), and animals. So do we gradually gather up various aspects and collect information on the director herself.

     In a small town she speaks to a man who collects small objects and furniture abandoned on the streets (the town provides a map and dates when such furniture can be left). And Varda, ultimately, gives us views of her own various “collections.”

     At another point, the director devotes a short episode to the “dance” of an attached camera lens which she has accidentally filmed on her hand-held camera, representing, I suppose, another kind of “found” art.

 

     Surely one of the most touching episodes in this picaresque of picking things up, is Varda’s encounter with a young man at the market who gathers up discarded vegetables, munching on many of them as he moves around. In a conversation with him, she discovers that he has a Master’s Degree and was a university assistant, but now cannot find a job. In the suburban charity house in which he lives, he is surrounded mostly by African and Asian migrants, whom, for free, he teaches French every evening. If there was ever an example of ethical behavior, this man most clearly expresses it.

       And so too does Varda in her unbiased conversations with the people with whom she meets. Her open humor and her obvious wonderment of the individuals she encounters bring to her pastiche a warmth that, without sentimentality or self-congratulation, sometimes brings tears to the eyes. This film is a non-judgmental work on people who survive or make their living on gathering up what others have left behind. Somewhat like maggots putting a corpse to good use, the “gleaners” are only too happy to take away what so much of the society wastes.

      Although I saw this film in early 2014—in connection with a Varda retrospective at the Los Angeles Museum of Art—I suddenly realized that it captured the very essence of what I had titled the volume about the year 2000 (“Leaving Something Behind”) the year the film was made—another example, surely, of the coincidences that have defined my life.

 

Los Angeles, January 8, 2014

Reprinted from International Cinema Review (January 2014).

Index R-Z

Angelo Raaijmakers I, Adonis / 2021 Peeter Rabane Firebird / 2021   Tyler Rabinowitz Catalina / 2022 Tyler Rabinowitz See You Soon / 20...