Douglas Fairbanks

The Three Musketeers (1921)

The Three Musketeers (1921)

(On Cable TV, September 2019) The nice thing about Alexandre Dumas’ The Three Musketeers is that it’s a well-known novel with a lot of material in it, and plenty of opportunities to shape it to become the film you want it to be. Whether you want swashbuckling, imposing acting performances, action sequences or historical recreations, it’s an evergreen classic. This early silent-cinema version of The Three Musketeers featuring Douglas Fairbanks hews more or less closely to the text (with many simplifications, some of them similar to what later films would do), but doesn’t feature nearly as many swordfights than you’d expect. Which may be for the better, as the art of combat cinematography hadn’t been perfected at that point—what fights are included do look wild and chaotic, swords flying everywhere in a way that makes no sense either in sword-fighting or movie spectacle. (But then there are reports that the actors disregarded their fencing choreography and simply went wild.)  In any case, this version of The Three Musketeers may disappoint from a contemporary point of view: while not terribly long by silent film standards, there’s a lot of plot and characters in here that will tax even patient viewers. I much prefer Fairbanks’ own The Mask of Zorro from a year earlier, but The Three Musketeers was the actor’s passion project—he even kept the character’s mustache for the rest of his life. It’s a fair piece of history that anticipates action filmmaking, but it’s not exactly wall-to-wall fun viewing.

The Thief of Bagdad (1924)

The Thief of Bagdad (1924)

(On Cable TV, July 2019) Blockbuster spectacles aren’t a new thing for Hollywood, as the first version of The Thief of Bagdad amply proves. Here we have a dashing adventurer (Douglas Fairbanks, arguably the first action hero) in the fantastical setting of old-time Bagdad, falling in love with a princess and going through special-effects-heavy adventures in order to win her affections over the villain. That sure looks like the plot summary of countless movies since then (and, to be fair, it’s lifted from The 1001 Nights of Scheherazade), except that this one was released in 1924. From the get-go, there is still, ninety-five years later, something interesting about the world featured in this film. The first act of the film has some fantastical sets, most of them built high up above the characters. Fairbanks jumps and gesticulates his way through many other adventures—the middle section of the film is particularly heavy in optical effects recreating fantastic visions for the movie screen. The Thief of Bagdad is really not bad once you get into the typical (and overlong) rhythm of silent movies—the succession of special effects, fantastical plot devices and dashing adventure is enough to keep even modern viewer entertained.

The Mark of Zorro (1920)

The Mark of Zorro (1920)

(On Cable TV, June 2019) I had a surprisingly good time watching the original The Mark of Zorro, even despite it being nearly a hundred years old, in sepia tones and without sound. Genre thrills carry through the ages, and when the film gets down to business, we get to see Douglas Fairbanks deliver action sequences of timeless physical ability. The story of Zorro needs no introduction, of course—the plotting is easy to follow, and the film distinguishes itself with the choreography of the fights and the small details of what it means to be Zorro. Those of us keenly interested in the secret origins of Batman in Zorro will be bowled over not only to see the dual-identity conceit used this early on (Don Diego is vastly more comfortable talking to women as Zorro than as himself), but also Zorro hiding his Batmobile horse in his Batcave underground stable, with a hidden entrance and access through a hidden trapdoor in his house! But the fun here is seeing Fairbanks (a bit pudgier than what we’d expect from an action star, although appropriate for “man of leisure” Don Diego) fighting and running his way through the scenery—some of the second-half chase sequence approaches parkour-level stunts. I still think that the 1940 version is superior (and the 1998 version is my own personal favourite) but this is one silent film that’s not too long, not too dull and not to be missed.