Four days, three states, three screenings: On the road with Spies, Peter, Thief in 35mm

Here's me posing with 'The Thief of Bagdad' ready to roll in one of the Somerville's two Norelco 35mm projectors.

A few notes from a crazy burst of accompaniment: one that saw three big shows in four days. And in three separate states no less. And also while I'm in the midst of doing underscoring for a high school production of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' at a nearby high school. So before it all disappears in a blur, a thought or two...

• Thursday, May 9 brought Fritz Lang's 'Spies' (1928) at the Flying Monkey Moviehouse in Plymouth, N.H., about a hour's drive north of home base. Healthy crowd of about 45 on hand for a film that's not one of the big titles, but I think should be. It's a big film for music, not just in terms of length (2½ hours) but also in terms of possibilities. Basically, I wrung the hell out of two main themes: an "espionage" motif that I thought of as the "male" theme, and a nice flowing tune I recently come up with that worked great as the "female" melody.

The music fell together quite nicely, with lots of powerful modal stuff lending an elemental quality to the whole thing. Afterwards, two separate people came up and said they'd never been to a silent film screening with live music in a theater before, and had no idea at the level of tension and excitement that was possible. Indeed, 'Spies' is structured so that the last half hour is one exciting sequence after another. So overall, very satisfying.

• Saturday, May 11 saw 'Peter Pan' (1924) as the opening title in this season's silent film series at Brandon (Vt.) Town Hall, which is a 2½-hour haul one-way. But I don't mind because it's a great place for silent films, the organizers and the audience are all terrific people, and I love Sal's, an excellent little Italian restaurant I found on West Street in downtown Rutland. (Prior to the show, I had the chicken corn chowder.)

Usually attendance at the first screening of the season is light, but this time we more than doubled last year's figure with about 80 people on hand. A lot of kids came, including one little girl who sat right behind me and, shortly after the film began, dumped a whole back of Skittles onto the wooden floor. Some rolled under me, but no harm done. First time I've ever had to deal with candy during a performance!

I don't know what it is, but Brandon is such an easy place to do accompaniment. I feel so comfortable there, and easily fall into the "accompaniment zone" almost always. Saturday night was no exception: I've done 'Peter Pan' many times and have a good set of material for it. But even so, it was one of those nights where one good moment followed another. And that "audience participation" moment, where Peter urges the audience to clap to save Tinkerbell, went over big time! It was all top-notch, everything worked out great, and people were so appreciate. It was a wonderful reminder of why I continue to do this.

• And the non Sunday, May 12 (Mother's Day!), I did music for a screening of 'The Thief of Bagdad' (1924) in 35mm at the Somerville Theatre in Davis Square, Somerville, Mass. (Just outside Boston, about an hour south for me.) Another 2½-hour epic, but this time projected on actual film (the print was from noted film scholar and restorationist David Shepard) via the expert booth technique of David Kornfeld, projectionist extraordinaire.

The show—which was the opening installment in what we hope will be a monthly series of silents in 35mm with live music—attracted a relatively sparse crowd (it's a big theater) of maybe 60 or 70 people. But they were a lively group, and it was a pleasure to hear the reaction to "thief," which I think is a great film for an audience.

Unfortunately, for this one, I wasn't in the zone as much as I like to be. I don't know if it's performance fatigue or what, but I just wasn't on top of the film in several places. Also, it took me awhile to settle on material; I eventually wound up using some of the 'Spies' material, which to me is taking the easy way out. :(

Also, we hooked up the sound in a different way this time, and I wasn't quite happy with the levels and balance. David, way up in the balcony, said it sounded fine, and that was as far as we got, as he had a million other things to attend to beyond working with me. But I felt the on-stage speakers (responsible for 80 percent of the sound, it seemed) were distorting low notes played at any volume. And the overall sound quality just wasn't as crisp as I like it.

We didn't have a lot of time pre-show to futz with anything, so I just went with it. But I can say now—if you do anything for 2½ hours, make sure it's something you enjoy doing. The fact that I couldn't just forget about the sound, and was always somewhat bothered by it, helped crowd out the music-making part of my brain, and I'm afraid the inspiration was occasionally somewhat lacking.

Note to self: Skittles don't matter. Quality of sound does.

Next up: This Friday, doing my annual silent film show at Antrim (N.H.) Town Hall for students of Great Brook Middle School. it's the fourth year, and these kids are turning into real silent film aficianados. (Note to programmers: Keaton wins hands down in popularity.) Also, in a change of pace, I'm doing musical underscoring for three performances of a stage version of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' at Merrimack (N.H.) High School. It's like accompanying silent film, except instead of film, it's real live people, and instead of them being silent, they talk. So the challenge is to keep the music low enough so it doesn't cover any dialogue, and also to support the story and shifts of mood. Should be a great show!

And then later this month I have two "new" films—new to me, that is, in the sense that I've never done live music for them. On Friday, May 24, it's 'Battleship Potemkin' (1925) at Red River Theatres in Concord, N.H., and on Sunday, May 26, it's 'Tell It To The Marines' (1926) starring Lon Chaney, in our annual Memorial Day tribute at the Wilton (N.H.) Town Hall Theatre. More on those later!

This Mother's Day, give Mom... a bare-chested Douglas Fairbanks!

One word for it is 'synchronicity.' Another might be 'overscheduling.'

Whatever term you use, three big films in four days is a lot. But then you can never have too much of good silent film, I think, and the three coming up (in three different states, no less) are real doozies. And I mean that in a good way.

Here's a quick roster, followed by the complete press release for the first one up:

• Thursday, May 9, I'm doing music for a screening of Fritz Lang's 'Spies' (1928), the prototype of all espionage films. Showtime is 6:30 p.m. at the Flying Monkey Moviehouse and Performance Center in Plymouth, N.H. This is a terrific audience film and I'm really looking forward to scoring it live, as I think I finally understand all the various plot strands and how they intersect. Admission $10 per person.

• Saturday, May 11, it's music for 'Peter Pan' (1924), the original film adaptation of J.M. Barrie's immortal stage play. Showtime is 7 p.m. at the lovely Brandon Town Hall in Brandon, Vt. Free admission, but donations are accepted to help ongoing renovations. It's the opening night of this year's monthly silent film series at Brandon Town Hall, a great place to take in a vintage movie. Acoustics are splendid, and practically the whole town turns out!

• Sunday, May 12, it's down to the big city to do music for a 1 p.m. matinee of 'The Thief of Bagdad' (1924), the epic fantasy starring Douglas Fairbanks, to be screened in 35mm at the Somerville Theatre, 55 Davis Square. (Somerville is part of Boston, Mass.) Very excited about this, as it's the first of another monthly silent film series, this one involving only 35mm prints. Best tag line of the year: "This Mother's Day, Treat Mom to Two and a Half Hours of a Barechested Douglas Fairbanks."

In the middle of all this, I'm working with students at Merrimack (N.H.) High School to create music for their stage production of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame.' We'll do three performances next week, but rehearsals are nearing an end so I'm over there several more times this week and next.

Synchronity? Over-scheduling? Here's a better term: Crazy.

And here's the full press release for tomorrow night's screening of 'Spies' (1928). If you've never seen this one in a theater, it's worth the drive up to Plymouth.

* * *
THURSDAY, APRIL 19, 2013 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

'Spies' (1928) to screen with live music on Thursday, May 9 at Flying Monkey

Silent film thriller was model for James Bond; called "granddaddy" of all espionage movies

PLYMOUTH, N.H. — It was the movie that pioneered the espionage genre, complete with secret documents, hi-tech gadgets, an evil mastermind, and a beautiful but dangerous woman. It was 'Spies' (1928), an action-packed silent thiller, and will be shown with live music for one screening only on Thursday, May 9 at 6:30 p.m. at the Flying Monkey Moviehouse and Performance Center, 39 South Main St., Plymouth, N.H.

Live music will be provided by silent film accompanist Jeff Rapsis. Admission is $10 per person.

'Spies,' made by German director Fritz Lang at the end of the silent era, served as a blueprint for all espionage story-telling to come in movies and, later, on television. It is especially notable for the many ways it anticipated the James Bond films, in which a government's secret agent matches wits with a criminal mastermind.

Newly restored to its original length, 'Spies' has emerged as a flawlessly constructed spy thriller from the peak of the silent film era. Hugely influential, Lang's passion for meticulous detail combines with masterful storytelling and editing skills to form a relentless story of intrigue, espionage, and blackmail.

An international spy ring, headed by Haghi (Rudolf Klein-Rogge), uses technology, threats, and murder to obtain government secrets. As master spy and also president of a bank, Haghi leads a double life, using instruments of modern technology to spearhead a mad rush for secrets to assert his power over others.

Battling Haghi is the government's Agent 326 (Willy Fritsch), himself a master of disguise. Can Agent 326 stop Haghi's plot before it disrupts the world's balance of power?

Putting on the screen for the first time many elements of the modern spy thriller, 'Spies' remains remarkably fresh and captivating more than 80 years since its first release. Lang carefully reveals the elaborate methods of the spies as they move through his unknown city, no doubt creating a mirror of troubled Weimar Germany, where the film was shot.

Made by Lang's own production company and, like the classic films 'M' (1931) and Metropolis (1927), written by Lang with his wife Thea von Harbou, 'Spies' is "the granddaddy of decades of intrigue epics. In its rigorous austerity, it remains the most modern of the bunch," wrote Elliott Stein of The Village Voice.

'Spies' features many of the same performers featured in 'Metropolis,' Lang's famous futuristic fantasy, including Klein-Rogge, who portrayed the scientist 'Rotwang' in the earlier movie. 'Spies' also stars Austrian actress Gerda Maurus as the mysterious woman who could prove to be the undoing of Agent 326.

The Flying Monkey originally opened a silent film moviehouse in the 1920s, and showed first-run Hollywood films to generations of area residents until closing several years ago. The theater has since been renovated by Alex Ray, owner of the Common Man restaurants, who created a performance space that hosts a wide variety of music acts.

Movies of all types, however, are still a big part of the Flying Monkey's offerings, and the silent film series is a way for the theater to remain connected to its roots.

Live music for 'Spies' will be provided by silent film accompanist Jeff Rapsis, who uses a digital synthesizer to recreate the sound and texture of the full orchestra.

"'Spies' is a wonderful film for music," said Rapsis, who improvises accompaniment using themes or melodies he composes beforehand. "In addition to telling great stories, Lang's films are also visually interesting, and so they lend themselves to music to heighten the drama and tension," Rapsis said.

'Spies' is appropriate for family audiences, although it includes intense scenes that may frighten very small children. The film is two-and-a-half hours long.

The screening of 'Spies' is part of the Flying Monkey's monthly silent film series, which gives today's audiences a chance to experience the great films of Hollywood's early years as they were intended: in restored prints, in a theater on the big screen, and with live music and an audience.

"If you've never seen a silent film in a theater with live music and an audience, this is a great way to experience the medium at its best," Rapsis said. "When you put all the elements together, silent film still has an ability to stir up an audience in a way that no other medium can."

Upcoming silent films at the Flying Monkey include:

• Thursday, June 13, 6:30 p.m.: "The Gaucho" (1927). The leader of a band of outlaws in Argentina must help save a religious shrine from being taken over and closed by a corrupt general. Audience favorite and change of pace for acclaimed swashbuckling superstar Douglas Fairbanks, who tries his hand playing a darker role than usual. Admission $10 per person.

'Spies' (1928) will be screened on Thursday, May 9 at 6:30 p.m. at the Flying Monkey Moviehouse and Performance Center, 39 South Main St., Plymouth, N.H. Admission is $10 per person. For more information, visit www.flyingmonkeynh.com or call (603) 536-2551.

The Flying Monkey runs silent film programs with live music each month. For more information about the music, visit www.jeffrapsis.com.

Catching up with author Walter Kerr at a screening of 'The Chaser' (1928)

Some time ago, I discovered one way to drive a lot of traffic to a blog—mention "Jesus Christ" somewhere in the text. Boy, the hits just start piling up!

The occasion was a write-up of 'The Strong Man' (1926), in which I compared silent film comedian Harry Langdon to, yes, Mr. Christ. I even found two headshots that bore a resemblance.

Well, last night I accompanied another Langdon film, 'The Chaser' (1928), and comparisons to Christ are unlikely, other than to say that perhaps Harry's decision to direct himself was a form of self-crucifixion.

The film, screened at the Manchester (N.H.) City Library, drew some laughs, and the audience of about 40 passing strangers seemed to get Langdon's character, despite conventional wisdom that he's an acquired taste.

Afterwards, however, everyone sort of agreed that although 'The Chaser' was an interesting film, it wasn't about to prompt one of those transcendent silent film experiences that sometimes happen. (There I go with the religious stuff again!)

Comments ranged from "it shows how much he needed Frank Capra" to "that was an awful lot of poison he had in that kitchen." When they're wondering about the amount of poison in the cupboard, you know a film is in trouble.

And parts of the film simply don't make any sense at all, at least to modern eyes. Example: When Harry, dressed in his absurd lodge costume, proceeds to kiss women at a beach party, rendering them unconscious with desire.

Maybe there's something about the Langdon character and the now-absent 1920s zeitgeist that we really don't get after all these years.

Harry seems to be enjoying 'The Chaser' more than our audience did.

I wanted to run this rarely screened film in part to see how an audience would react, but also to finally see for myself something that critic Walter Kerr pointed out so long ago in his genre-defining book 'The Silent Clowns.'

At one point in 'The Chaser' (the part with all the poison), Harry attempts suicide, but mistakenly doses himself with castor oil. He then lies down on the kitchen floor, and the camera lingers. And lingers. The joke, such as it is, is embodied in that single shot being sustained beyond all reasonability. And, seen in live performance, it really is, at least for a time. Against all odds, it starts to become funny.

But then Langdon CUTS to a close-in shot. Nothing has changed, but he just sabotaged the root and reason of the joke, according to Kerr. A surer hand—say that of his former collaborator Capra—would have not made that mistake.

Really? I wasn't really sure what Kerr meant, but the certainty with which he said it has stayed with me all these years since first reading 'The Silent Clowns' in the 1970s. It made me wonder: were there things about life that were so obvious to others that I couldn't see as well?

But now that I've seen 'The Chaser' with an audience, I know exactly what Kerr meant. The longer that sustained shot is held, the funnier it gets. But just as the hilarity is starting to build, the cut to the close-in shot short-circuits the audience reaction, setting things back to the starting place.

Finally, the film returns to the original shot for Harry's almost inevitable reaction: instead of dying, he suddenly must leap up and run to the bathroom. I can't imagine a less dignified (or funnier) way of being reminded that one is definitely still alive. But the joke is muted by the editing. What should have been a classic Langdon sequence instead becomes a mildly amusing fade-out.

You were right, Mr. Kerr!

Report from Cincinnati: Buster's 'The General' scores a victory

Well, no matter what else happens in my life, I can always say I got a standing ovation in Cincinnati.

It happened on Thursday, May 2, when I did music for a screening of Buster Keaton's 'The General' (1927) at the Carnegie Visual and Performing Arts Center in Covington, Kentucky, just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati.

Built as a library, the Carnegie is now home to galleries and a wonderful small theater that boasts a full calendar of shows and events. Silent film with live music is a recent addition, and 'The General' is what brought me in from New Hampshire. Because I was using the Korg, I drove. (It's just under 1,000 miles—nothing at all, really.)

I pulled into Cincinnati mid-afternoon the day of show, crossing the big bridge that carries I-71 over the Ohio and descending an alarmingly steep ramp that deposited me in the narrow streets of Covington.

Surprise! The area was filled with block after block of historic brick buildings. I imagine the town long played second fiddle to the big city across the river, but these days Covington looks pretty good: small businesses, restaurants, gentrification. It's a place worth exploring.

But there was a show to do. Backing the Subaru up to the Carnegie's stage door, I was just in time to meet "Blue," my helpful tech guy. Load-in was quick and before I knew it, we were ready to go.

Here's the center, with a statue of benefactor Carnegie himself standing guard out front. 

Another surprise: They not only wanted me up on stage in full view of the audience, but also lit from above with a spotlight, which I imagine looked like some sort of transporter beam to the audience.

I asked about moving to a less visible place, as I always feel my efforts should support the movie, and not draw attention to myself. But no—they wanted me up there, in plain sight, to emphasize the "live-ness" of the music. Unusual, but it's their show, so no problem.

The two-level Otto M. Budig Theater is a wonderful small-sized venue. (The above photo was taken from the balcony.) It reminded me of some of those great small theaters in London's West End. The picture above, with the lower level filled with people, made me think of the Muppet Show theater.

Considering how many things could have gone wrong in a 1,000-mile journey (car trouble, construction delays, getting lost), my timing was pretty much right on, which for once made me feel something like professional.

Indeed, I had enough time for an unhurried drive back over to Cincinnati to check in at the Garfield Suites, where I showered and changed before heading back to the Carnegie for the evening's performance. You'd think I was always this organized. I even had time to stop in and speak with the ushers. Here they below, a handsome crew!

Well, the lack of pre-show stress and anxiety paid off, apparently. The show was at 7:30 p.m., and so climbed up onstage and sat down at about 6:50 p.m. to start some music going. Almost immediately, I felt comfortable and confident, in the zone, and never really looked back.

Sometimes that happens, and it's great when it does.

The house opened at 7 p.m., but I barely noticed. Im warming up, I had expected to stick with a simple organ setting so as to make the sound of the film score that much more impressive and dramatic when the movie started, but instead I used the full orchestra right off the bat, and found myself getting into some heavy and dramatic stuff, mostly based on 'Dixie' and 'Yankee Doodle,' which I draw from in accompanying 'The General.'

Finally, Blue poked his head from somewhere and gave me a two-minute warning. I rolled things up to a dramatic finish, then ducked behind the curtain to wait for Joshua Steele, the Carnegie's theater manager (and who arranged my booking), to say a few words.

And there he was, backstage as planned! Don't you love it when things go as planned? But it turning into that kind of night. I pulled back the curtain for his entrance to introduce me, and the next thing I know, I'm greeting a theater full (well, not quite full) of folks there to experience silent film as it was intended to be shown -- in a theater on the big screen, with live music and (most importantly) an audience.

When the film started, the flow continued unbroken. Music fell right into place during the credits, and stayed on track (har!) from the opening sequence onward. I was careful to hold back, which is important for most films, especially comedies and especially for Buster's, as too much too soon can inhibit the audience reaction.

But that wasn't a problem. Response was strong right from the beginning. You know it's going to be a good screening when the little march of Buster and the two kids, followed by Marion Mack, up to the front door produces giggles, and then a belly laugh when Buster turns around to find his girl outside the house, standing behind him.

Seeing (and hearing) that, I settled in for a good ride, still being careful to keep things under control so as not to step on the film. In 'The General,' things really start to click, I think, when the scene switches to the Northern encampment. It's a straight dramatic scene, and the right kind of music (ominous, foreboding) can add quite a dimension to it.

This sequence, played entirely straight, serves to raise the stakes, making everything Buster does afterwards more thrilling and exciting, I think, because an underscoring of life-or-death danger has been introduced. That's what I see on the screen, anyway, so it's what I aim to reflect in the music.

And that's the tone I try to hold for the rest of the picture, throughout the out-and-back double-ended train chase that forms the heart of the film, and especially during the quiet scene behind enemy lines, which functions kind of like an eye in a storm (for once, no trains are moving) but actually has just as much tension as anything else in 'The General.'

In terms of reaction, you couldn't ask for more from an audience. We had full-throated cheers even during the "outbound" chase, such as when Buster's cannon fires and by accident hits the train he's pursuing. (Staged in a single shot, it's one of the miracle scenes in all of silent film, I think.)

So musically, it's a paradox. 'The General' is filled with elaborate Keaton gags intended to produce laughter. And it does. But for my taste, the film seems to work even better—both as a comedy and as a story we care about—when the music is essentially serious. The music doesn't need to be funny by itself: better for it to be like Keaton's face.

Also, I do my best to keep it moving, just as Keaton the director keeps the trains in motion. So I chug along in dramatic mode, throwing in scraps of 'Yankee Doodle' in a minor key, or stretched out double or quadruple length in the bass or way high up.

But get this: Once we're well into the film, islands of business occur where the music can be funny. Example: during the "inbound" chase, when Marion Mack tries sweeping up the locomotive's grimy cab, and then rejects a log because of a knot and instead tosses a twig into the firebox, I think the sequence plays better when the music turns light and whimsical.

I think this is partly a question of balance and contrast. Keaton's character has been through so much already, and the tension has been non-stop, so throwing in some lighter music functions as a breath of fresh air, which keeps the audience from wearing out or possibly wandering.

Wow—and as I write this, I have to point out that all of this decision-making happens in the moment, musically, as the film unfolds. It's what feels right. This is just deconstructing it after the fact.

So we had a real three-way conversation going there for the better part of an hour: Buster, the audience, and me. And yes, it got to that point where you're getting close to the end, and you know it's gone well, and you actually project through to the finish and almost know what you're going to play for the remaining minutes, and at that point you can relax a little and take pleasure in something that's gone well even as it's still playing out.

There it is: The End. And I keep the music building, giving a sense of a journey completed, and even indulge in a little false chord cadence before closing things up with a good strong finish.

And what a reaction! People hooting and hollering! Cheering, even! And it doesn't stop. I take a bow. The house lights come up. Another bow. I move to center stage, wipe my forehead, and take yet another bow, and still the ovation continues.

I know it's for the picture—for Buster. But I'm so pleased to help bring it to life in this manner, with all these collaborators. We did it together, and it's immensely gratifying to me when it goes like this.

And still they were applauding! I finally tip-toed back to my keyboard and picked up the camera I had there with my other stuff and scooted back to center stage. The applause started to fade, but I pointed the camera out into the audience and yelled "Wait, don't stop now!", getting a big laugh.

And I snapped the shutter, and the photo is what you saw at the beginning of this little essay. It's screenings like these that make all the effort worthwhile, and I'm so grateful to everyone at the Carnegie and the Covington/Cincinnati community for making this possible. Hope I can return there for another show at some point in the future!

Hello, Cincinnati!

This evening I'll be doing music for Buster Keaton's great film 'The General' (1927) at the Carnegie Visual and Performing Arts Center in Covington, Kentucky -- just across the river from Cincinnati. I've never done a screening in this part of the country before, so I wanted to take a second to say hello and introduce myself.

Hello!

Thanks to all in the Cincinnati area who've shown such enthusiasm for tonight's screening. The talented folks at the Carnegie have done a great job getting out the word; in recent weeks I've found ticket giveaways on everything from the 'Adventure Mom' blog to a blog that promotes family-friendly activities in the region. Nice!

One idea I'd never seen before: on the 'Family Friendly Cincinnati' Web site, they ran a contest that asked entrants to say whether they'd prefer to be a hero or villain. Interesting answers! (My own answer carried shades of Jack Benny confronted by the robber in the park: "It all depends...")

And in a great article by Steven Rosen in CityBeat, I was surprised to learn that Cincinnati has been behind the curve in terms of screening silent films with live music. I'm so happy to be helping the community solve this very serious cultural situation. :)

Thanks to everyone at the Carnegie and beyond for drumming up so much excitement for 'The General.' Projecting ahead: If you enjoyed tonight's performance I encourage you to seek out other screenings in the area with live music. It's the only way to really experience the full power of silent film.

And if you liked Buster Keaton, you're really in luck, because there's another Keaton film being screened in Cincinnati next week. 'Steamboat Bill, Jr.' (1928) will be screened next week, on Thursday, May 9. Some details:

CINCINNATI, OH – The Society for the Preservation of Music Hall (SPMH) presents its first silent film – Buster Keaton in Steamboat Bill, Jr., featuring the Mighty Wurlitzer and acclaimed theatre organist Clark Wilson – at Cincinnati’s Music Hall Ballroom on Thursday, May 9 at 10:30 AM and 7:00 PM. The event is being presented in cooperation with the Ohio Valley Chapter of the American Organ Society.

Tickets are on sale now at www.CincinnatiArts.org, (513) 621-ARTS [2787], and the Aronoff Center or Music Hall Ticket Office. For groups of ten or more, call (513) 977-4157.

Music Hall Ballroom's Mighty Wurlitzer accompanies Buster Keaton in his acclaimed 1928 feature-length comedy silent movie, considered by many film critics as a masterpiece of its era. Originally installed in the ornate Albee Theater on Fountain Square in December 1927, The Mighty Wurlitzer was one of only 2,200 theatre-organs produced at that time to accompany silent feature films. Don't miss this rare opportunity to experience The Mighty Wurlitzer as it was meant to be heard – as a live soundtrack for the world’s first movies! FREE POPCORN will be available for munching during the movie!

Wow, free popcorn! How can you beat that?

In which I accidentally collaborate with The Drifters while scoring a silent film

I'm probably one of the few musicians who get compliments on working the "Dies Irae" into my performance. That happened yesterday, following a screening of 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' (1926) at the Wilton (N.H.) Town Hall Theatre on Sunday, April 28.

Yes, the "Dies Irae" wound up being a helpful way of communicating doom prior and during the climactic flood scenes, and at least one person noticed the old tune from the Catholic Death Mass.

But then another woman congratulated me on how I used the tune "The Magic Moment" as part of the score. Really? I had just made up the whole thing right there on the spot, so how did she get the impression I was using a 1950s pop tune? I told her I don't really know the song, but maybe a hook in one of my melodies somehow reminded her of it.

When I got home I found the song on YouTube, and sure enough, there's a part of it that really does seem quite similar to one of my own melodies—specifically, the phrase that comes right after the title words ("This magic moment..."), which follows the scale up five notes from the submediant.

Well, that's what happens when you try to keep things simple. You end up accidentally borrowing moves from the Drifters!

Here they are—a magic moment, indeed!

I was actually quite excited about doing 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' with a live audience, as it seemed to have all the elements of a great silent film experience. And it did, mostly, despite a few unexpected things that came up.

First was the weather. After a long New England winter, this past weekend was the first one with A-plus weather since maybe last September. The sun was out, the sky was blue, the grass was green. (And had to be mowed.) So the last thing anyone would have wanted to do on Sunday afternoon was go into a darkened movie theater and watch a film set in the scorching desert. (Me included!) Surprisingly, we actually had a strong turnout of more than 100 folks, I think mostly because of an avalanche of pre-publicity in the local press, which sometimes happens.

Then there was the print, which was on a DVD released by MGM some years ago. While it looked great at home on the small screen, the image wasn't nearly as good when projected onto a big screen. I realize director Henry King was often shooting in direct desert sunlight, and so the contrast would be a little tough. But whole sections of the film seemed fuzzy and thin, and the tinting and toning seemed excessive, too. Parts looked really good, though, so I don't know what was at the root of this inconsistency.

And finally, there was me. Early on in the film, there's an extended party scene in which the Willard Holmes character (played by Ronald Colman) is welcomed to the desert community of Rubio City. Several shots of rustic guitar playing are included, so I felt I'd switch to an acoustic guitar setting for the entire scene, which alternates between light comedy and setting up the romance between Colman and Vilma Banky.

So I deftly switched the setting, and was then going for tenderness. So it was a real disappointment when I touched the keyboard of my Korg digital synthesizer, and out came a preprogrammed electric guitar howl backed by a driving electro-pop beat. It was like I'd stuck my finger in a light socket. Aaah!

I quickly shut the patch down and surfed to the correct setting, which took just long enough to really call attention to lapse. Damn! In the meantime, the movie limped on. It takes a lot of effort to help a film cast its spell and not get in the way, and here I went, throwing a sonic bomb into the mix to destroy any trance that had set in. The film soon reasserted itself, but what a bonehead thing to do at just the wrong moment—exactly when the spell was starting to take hold.

I recovered, and things went pretty well after that, I thought. But audience reaction was somewhat muted, I felt, especially at moments of comedy that King had salted throughout the film. The scene where Clyde Cook and Erwin Connelly tell jokes to an angry mob should have produced a lot more laughter than it did; likewise a post-flood scene where the Cook character flicks some mud into the face of E. J Ratcliffe as James Greenfield. (How odd to name a villain 'Greenfield' in a story about desert irrigation.)

I loved how the flood sequence turned out, with lots of musical drama and energy (yes, including the Dies Irae) swirling around and building until the moment that the raging waters finally swallow up Greenfield, when everything came together on one big unison D in octaves. Powerful stuff, I thought!

But again, not the big reaction that I expected. At the end, applause was polite but not momentous. Maybe I really did kill it with my musical gaffe, but I hope not. I think the story itself has some structural flaws: after the big flood, the Holmes character goes off again to tame the Colorado, and all we get is a title card reading "And Holmes won!" Kind of a let-down, dramatically.

Maybe it's because the Colman character's first name was 'Willard.' Perhaps the silent film community doesn't include a lot of Mitt Romney fans. :)

Thanks to Kevin Brownlow for leading me to 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' (1926)

 

Vilma Banky and Gary Cooper in a scene from 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' (1926), to be screened with live music on Sunday, April 28 at 4:30 p.m. at the Wilton (N.H.) Town Hall Theatre. 

A local screening of Henry King's epic Western 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' (1926) this weekend (on Sunday, April 28 at 4:30 p.m. at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre in Wilton, N.H.) is due to none other than author, historian, and silent film guru Kevin Brownlow.

First, though, let me tell you that I'm eager to see how this film plays with an audience. I find it fascinating for many reasons—the location photography, the engineering and irrigation angle, all the period detail, and the storyline itself. Most interestingly, the main antagonist is none other than Mother Nature, which lends an epic scale to the proceedings.

But I'm never quite sure if my own personal enthusiasm translates into a successful film in the ultimate forum for silent film greatness: an actual movie theater filled with people. So we'll see. We just need a lot of folks to come out. So pray for lousy weather. :)

Update: The local daily paper, The Nashua Telegraph, has published a nice profile of me as a preview to this screening. Thanks to writer Kathleen Palmer for a great job!

I do have high hopes for this one, which I didn't know about until I had a chance to work with Mr. Brownlow during a program last October at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. Kevin was presenting a program called "The Wild West and the Reel West," an evening-long look at how early Hollywood actually helped keep the old West alive somewhat by providing employment for old-time horsemen, cattle-drive veterans, and so on.

Kevin Brownlow and I at the University of Arkansas in October, 2012.

The program, built mostly from material assembled for Brownlow's excellent multi-part 1980 documentary 'Hollywood,' was in need of live music for a few segments. And so I was tapped for a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work with Kevin, a major figure in the silent film community who was given an Academy Award a few years back for his life's work, which includes restoring Abel Gance's 1927 epic 'Napoleon.'

What surprised me about Brownlow's choice of clips was how much of the film was not "historical" (meaning set in the past, such as in the 19th century) but actually involved contemporary stories set in what was then pretty much the present day. Yes, a lot of it looks like the "Old West" to my 21st-century eyes. But every now and then, you'd see a motor car among the horses and stagecoaches on Main Street, which made me realize these films were even more interesting to us today because they captured day-to-day reality in an America that was rapidly changing. (And it still is.)

It wasn't the first time I'd noticed this. There's a Douglas Fairbanks Sr. comedy, 'Wild and Wooley' (1917), that pokes fun at stereotyped images of the Old West, which even then were seen as clichéd. In it, leaders of a progressive Arizona town need to entertain Fairbanks, a New York banker with a romantic fondness for the 'Old West.' So they replace all their modern improvements with old-time bric-a-brac: misspelled saloon signs, etc. How surprising to my modern eyes—and perhaps even funnier now than it was a century ago.

But back to Brownlow. For his presentation, among the films he drew from was 'The Winning of Barbara Worth,' which I'd somehow never encountered in a lifetime of silent film viewing. (Shows you how much material there is out there, even with 80 percent of it lost.) Turns out 'Barbara Worth' was one of the ground-breaking pictures that showed Hollywood how to do it right—in this case, how to shoot a Western in the truly wide open spaces, with backgrounds stretching seemingly to infinity.

This was achieved by director King's decision to shoot the entire picture on location in Nevada's immense Black Rock Desert, which stood in for California's pre-irrigation Imperial Valley. The entire cast and crew sweated out three months in the summer of 1926 to make the film under incredibly harsh conditions. There's a fascinating day-by-day account of the effort in the form of a long article by a Nevada historian who pieced together local news accounts of the shooting, which was a huge story at the time.

After seeing the clips of the film in Brownlow's presentation, I knew I had to program it. And thus we come to this weekend's screening of 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre. There's more info about the flick in the press release below. But for now, I wanted to tip my cap to Kevin Brownlow for sharing his enthusiasm and passion for this still-lively and vital form of cinema.

FRIDAY, APRIL 19, 2013 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

Rip-roaring epic silent Western to be shown in Wilton, N.H. on Sunday, April 28

'The Winning of Barbara Worth' (1926), ground-breaking outdoor drama, to be screened with live music

WILTON, N.H.—A film that helped set the stage for Hollywood's love affair with movies set in American West will return to the big screen in Wilton, N.H.

'The Winning of Barbara Worth' (1926), a silent drama starring Gary Cooper, Ronald Colman, and Vilma Banky, will be shown on Sunday, April 28 at 4:30 p.m. at the Wilton (N.H.) Town Hall Theatre.

Live music for the movie will be provided by silent film accompanist Jeff Rapsis. Admission is free; a donation of $5 per person is suggested to defray costs.

Directed by Henry King, 'The Winning of Barbara Worth' chronicles the epic story of pioneer settlers who dreamed of irrigating California's parched Imperial Valley in the early 20th century. Filmed on location in Nevada's Black Rock desert, the movie is noted for its extensive use of vast open spaces and wild scenery.

The story centers on a rivalry for the affections of Barbara Worth (Vilma Banky), adopted daughter of a powerful rancher. A local cowboy (Gary Cooper) finds himself competing with a newly arrived engineer (Ronald Colman), who has come to the rural valley to work on plans to harness the Colorado River for irrigation.

Will the local ranchhand prevail over the city slicker engineer? Can citizens of the parched region prevail over nature and transform their lands into an agricultural paradise? Will rumors of shortcuts taken in constructing a massive dam lead to disaster?

All these questions combine to create a film that showed Hollywood and movie-goers the power of a drama set in the rural American west. The film is also noted for its camerawork by Greg Toland, who would later go on to do principal photography for 'Citizen Kane' in 1941.

For 'The Winning of Barbara Worth,' Rapsis will improvise a score from original musical material that he composes beforehand, using a digital synthesizer to recreate the sound and texture of a full orchestra.

"What I try to do," Rapsis said, "is create music that bridges the gap between a film that might be 80 or 90 years old, and the musical expectations of today's audiences."

'The Winning of Barbara Worth' is the latest in a monthly series of silent films presented with live music at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre. The series provides local audiences the opportunity to experience silent film as it was intended to be shown: on the big screen, in good-looking prints, with live music, and with an audience.

"If you can put pieces of the experience back together again, it's surprising how these films snap back to life," Rapsis said. "By showing the films under the right conditions, you can really get a sense of why people first fell in love with the movies."

Upcoming silent film screenings at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre include:

• Sunday, May 26, 2013, 4:30 p.m.: 'Tell It To The Marines' (1926). In honor of Memorial Day: U.S. Marine Sergeant O'Hara (Lon Chaney) has his hands full training raw recruits, one of whom, 'Skeets' Burns, is a particular thorn in his side...especially when it comes to romancing nurse Nora Dale.

• Sunday, June 30, 2013, 4:30 p.m.: 'The Yankee Clipper' (1926). Set sail in the era of the great clipper ships in a thrilling race between American and British vessels speeding from China to Boston, with rival crews using only the wind and their wits to win. But will a romantic rivalry complicate the competition? Part of a summer series of seagoing silent films with live music.

• Sunday, July 28, 2013: 4:30 p.m.: 'The Sea Hawk' (1924). Swashbuckling historical adventure on the high seas about an English noble sold into slavery who escapes and turns himself into a pirate king. Based on a novel by Rafael Sabatini; later remade into a talkie starring Errol Flynn. Part of a summer series of seagoing silent films with live music.

'The Winning of Barbara Worth' will be shown on Sunday, April 28 at 4:30 p.m. at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H. Admission is free, with a suggested donation of $5 per person to defray expenses. For more information, visit www.wiltontownhalltheatre.com; for more information on the music, visit www.jeffrapsis.com.