Once again, a film "lost forever" has merely been mislaid. 'Beyond the Rocks' is now the King Tutankhamun of silent films, and I say this not merely because the movie climaxes in an ancient Egyptian tomb. Tutankhamun was actually one of the more obscure kings of Egypt, who is now famous precisely *because* of his obscurity. After Tutankhamun's burial (in a small and unimposing tomb), a greater king had his own much larger and grander tomb built on top of Tutankhamun's tomb, unintentionally rendering Tutankhamun's tomb almost inaccessible to grave robbers. Consequently, the greater king's far more opulent tomb has long since been plundered, while Tutankhamun's riches survived nearly intact until his tomb was rediscovered to great fanfare in 1922 (the same year 'Beyond the Rocks' was released), thereby rendering the obscure king Tutankhamun far more celebrated and immortal in modern times than any of the more important kings of ancient Egypt who are now forgotten.
By the same caprice, 'Beyond the Rocks' attracted very little interest in its own day; it was permitted to lapse into obscurity, and is now reaping vast attention only due to its rediscovery. Had 'Beyond the Rocks' been available during the intervening decades from 1922 to now, today it would be deemed just one more routine silent film, a bit more opulent than most.
'Beyond the Rocks' is the only teaming of Swanson and Valentino, two stars who never much appealed to me. I'm hoping that the return of this film will prompt a reappraisal of the career of its director, Sam Wood. He directs this film expertly, most notably bringing taut suspense to an Alpine rescue sequence. Elsewhere, there's a good sequence in which Gloria Swanson's character nearly drowns. (I give her credit for doing this scene; in real life, Swanson couldn't swim!) I was also greatly impressed with how Swanson's heroine is symbolised by the odour of narcissus blossoms; this is one of the very few movies I've seen in which the erotic aspects of *scent* are used intelligently.
This film is a clothes-horse bonanza, with Swanson and Valentino tricked out in elaborate costumes from several different centuries. At one point, they show up in Kate Greenaway cozzies for a pageant on Whitmonday. (With their wits untied on Whitsuntide.) In the first sequence, Swanson makes her entrance as a teenager, wearing a little girl's sailor dress that clashes with her cupid's-bow lipstick!
The art direction is variable. This film was shot in Hollywood but takes place in several nations. I was deeply impressed with the opening sequence, which is set in Dorset and actually looks like Thomas Hardy country. A glass matte shot of the Tyrolean Alps is impressively elaborate but unconvincing. A sequence in Versailles features a ludicrously bad rear-projection backdrop of the Jardin des Tuileries. An alleged Egyptian tomb is laughably unconvincing, although I was impressed that somebody put authentic hieroglyphics on a piece of papyrus (but these should have been hieratic or demotic). Valentino plays an unmarried English earl(!), so his widowed mother is identified as the Countess: surely she ought to be the *dowager* Countess.
SPOILERS COMING. In view of this film's stars, and the fact that the movie is based on a novel by Elinor Glyn (author of sexually steamy potboilers), I expected Valentino and Swanson to exchange lots of flaring nostrils and arched eyebrows in their roles as star-crossed lovers, while she's trapped in a loveless marriage. Astonishingly, the two remain absolutely chaste until her husband dies ... generously blessing their union as he carks it.
The two stars give good performances in weak material. Sam Wood's direction is excellent. For some reason, it's fashionable among cineastes to knock Wood. I was once surprised and disappointed to hear film historian William K Everson (usually generous with his praise) going out of his way to make nasty comments about Sam Wood. Granted, in his personal life Wood had some very unpleasant traits. (Groucho Marx claimed that Wood was a racist, but Groucho often told malicious lies about people he disliked.) What matters is that Wood directed many excellent films that remain very popular, yet few people attribute any of the success of these films to Wood's contributions. While not quite as under-rated as directors Allan Dwan and James Cruze, Sam Wood is indeed under-appreciated. Here's hoping 'Beyond the Rocks' prompts new interest in his career. I'll rate this movie 7 out of 10, mostly for Wood's direction. Welcome back!
By the same caprice, 'Beyond the Rocks' attracted very little interest in its own day; it was permitted to lapse into obscurity, and is now reaping vast attention only due to its rediscovery. Had 'Beyond the Rocks' been available during the intervening decades from 1922 to now, today it would be deemed just one more routine silent film, a bit more opulent than most.
'Beyond the Rocks' is the only teaming of Swanson and Valentino, two stars who never much appealed to me. I'm hoping that the return of this film will prompt a reappraisal of the career of its director, Sam Wood. He directs this film expertly, most notably bringing taut suspense to an Alpine rescue sequence. Elsewhere, there's a good sequence in which Gloria Swanson's character nearly drowns. (I give her credit for doing this scene; in real life, Swanson couldn't swim!) I was also greatly impressed with how Swanson's heroine is symbolised by the odour of narcissus blossoms; this is one of the very few movies I've seen in which the erotic aspects of *scent* are used intelligently.
This film is a clothes-horse bonanza, with Swanson and Valentino tricked out in elaborate costumes from several different centuries. At one point, they show up in Kate Greenaway cozzies for a pageant on Whitmonday. (With their wits untied on Whitsuntide.) In the first sequence, Swanson makes her entrance as a teenager, wearing a little girl's sailor dress that clashes with her cupid's-bow lipstick!
The art direction is variable. This film was shot in Hollywood but takes place in several nations. I was deeply impressed with the opening sequence, which is set in Dorset and actually looks like Thomas Hardy country. A glass matte shot of the Tyrolean Alps is impressively elaborate but unconvincing. A sequence in Versailles features a ludicrously bad rear-projection backdrop of the Jardin des Tuileries. An alleged Egyptian tomb is laughably unconvincing, although I was impressed that somebody put authentic hieroglyphics on a piece of papyrus (but these should have been hieratic or demotic). Valentino plays an unmarried English earl(!), so his widowed mother is identified as the Countess: surely she ought to be the *dowager* Countess.
SPOILERS COMING. In view of this film's stars, and the fact that the movie is based on a novel by Elinor Glyn (author of sexually steamy potboilers), I expected Valentino and Swanson to exchange lots of flaring nostrils and arched eyebrows in their roles as star-crossed lovers, while she's trapped in a loveless marriage. Astonishingly, the two remain absolutely chaste until her husband dies ... generously blessing their union as he carks it.
The two stars give good performances in weak material. Sam Wood's direction is excellent. For some reason, it's fashionable among cineastes to knock Wood. I was once surprised and disappointed to hear film historian William K Everson (usually generous with his praise) going out of his way to make nasty comments about Sam Wood. Granted, in his personal life Wood had some very unpleasant traits. (Groucho Marx claimed that Wood was a racist, but Groucho often told malicious lies about people he disliked.) What matters is that Wood directed many excellent films that remain very popular, yet few people attribute any of the success of these films to Wood's contributions. While not quite as under-rated as directors Allan Dwan and James Cruze, Sam Wood is indeed under-appreciated. Here's hoping 'Beyond the Rocks' prompts new interest in his career. I'll rate this movie 7 out of 10, mostly for Wood's direction. Welcome back!