Post by Shonokin on Oct 31, 2005 9:54:52 GMT -8
from Cinescape.com
The DVD Age has brought a number of rare and “lost” films into the hands of genre film fans, from the 1910 FRANKENSTEIN to the restoration of 1925 THE LOST WORLD. However, budget label Alpha Video has released a relatively unknown gem of the silent era on DVD without fanfare that really deserves more notice.
André Deed was a music hall singer and acrobat in early 20th century France when he broke into the dawning film business in 1901, working for film pioneer Georges Méliès. He was soon starring in a long series of comedy shorts as the comic character Boireau in France, and later even more successfully playing his signature character Cretinetti in Italy. By 1911, he was directing his own shorts, and by the 1920, he’d begun branching out into comedy and adventure features, but he’s primarily remembered as one of the top European comedians of the silent era. For this reason, the many film guides list L’UOMO MECCANICO as one of his comedy shorts, though this DVD reveals it to be a full feature. And though Deed plays a bumbling detective named Salterello, the film contains more elements of adventure, horror and science fiction than comedy.
Though the surviving footage found in a Brazilian film vault runs only 26 minutes, records indicate the original film was about an hour long. For US distribution, Alpha has replaced the Portuguese title cards with English translations. And since so much footage is missing, they preface the film with text recounting the film’s plot, as taken from printed synopses from 1921.
Professor D’Ara creates plans for an electric-powered machine shaped like a human being that can be manipulated by remote controls. The “female adventuress” Mado (Valentina Frascaroli) and her criminal gang murders D’Ara to get these plans, but she is captured by Detective Ramberto (Ferdinando Vivas-May) through the aid of a funny little private detective named Salterello (Deed). As we join the surviving footage, Mado puts into action a bold plan to escape prison, first injecting herself with hidden drugs to feign illness, then starting a fire in the prison hospital to cover her escape. This sequence contains not only some dangerous looking stunts and effects, but reveals quite a bit of Frascaroli’s flesh in the bargain. Soon after her escape, Mado kidnaps D’Ara’s niece Elena (Mathilde Lambert), forcing her to divulge plans for the invention.
Elena is rescued, but as Ramberto confuses her friend Salterello with one of the gang, Mado escapes. The girl is found in a dazed state, but when her friend learns she’s returned home, “Salterello’s gaiety helps Elena recover her mental capacity,” (as the titles tell us).
A few days later, Salterello is attending a fancy party thrown by a countess when a huge mechanical monster, controlled from afar by Mado, smashes its way into the house. Salterello hides inside a large cabinet, which the robot lifts and carries through a wall and upstairs to the roof, where the little man narrowly escapes being hurled to the ground. Then, the mechanical man makes his way to the countess’ boudoir, where it rips a safe full of jewelry out of the wall and departs. Later, the mechanical man attacks Salterello again, breaking through heavy iron doors and chasing down his automobile as he tries to escape. Only a short circuit in Mado’s lab saves the little man this time.
Not long after, a masque ball is held at the opera house. Oddly enough, no one expects it’s the real thing when the mechanical man shows up at the party to caper with the guests until the machine picks a fight with one of the men and goes on a murderous rampage. In a scene foreshadowing similar material in KING KONG, the robot tears clothing off the belle of the ball and throws her over a balcony. Fortunately, Elena’s brother has had enough time to create a mechanical man of his own and sends his titan to battle Mado’s. As the two huge robots clash in a shower of sprks and smoke, Salterello sneaks into Mado’s headquarters to do a little sabotage work.
The robot is an impressive creation, with a riveted frame and snarling face that goes far beyond the cheesy designs seen in movies even decades later. Though it varies in size from scene to scene, the mechanical man looks to be about 18 to twenty feet tall, which qualifies it as one of the screen’s first giant monsters, and perhaps even the first giant robot to appear on film. Surely this marks the first battle between two robots ever seen in the cinema. The film is derivative of European adventure serials of the previous decade such as LES VAMPIRES, but stikes into new territory with its sci-fi content. The laboratory sets, with their sparkingmachinery and big screen TV, paved the way for the Fritz Lang epics soon to follow.
Alpha gives their discovery due care. The film is, as expected, not in very good shape, but the video retains the original tinting and the digital titling is in keeping with the film’s design. Unfortunately, the transfer is not given the correct running speed, which looks to be about 20 fps. The film is accompanied by a fine new score written by Rachel Gutches.
Realizing that even at a price under ten bucks, under an hour of program is inadequate, Alpha has provided a fitting bonus feature in 1922’s THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN, though another feature with more of a science fiction tone might have been preferable. This third (known) film adaptation is carried by Will Rogers in the starring role of schoolmaster Ichabod Crane. It sets the tone for several subsequent adaptations by concentrating on character comedy, and though Rogers is the lead character, it’s carefully spelled out that the vain Crane is no hero, and it’s no tragedy when he gets his comeuppance from the bogus Horseman.
Unfortunately, though also tinted and given a Gutches accompaniment, this more common feature is presented with less care. The print is not in good shape, and many details are lost – whites bloom so much that sometimes faces disappear, and a gag when Rogers shows the book he’s reading is lost in gloom. However, surely better materials can be found for this title, and it’s the rare main feature that’s the real attraction here.
Copyright © 2005 Brian Thomas, author of the massive book VideoHound's DRAGON: ASIAN ACTION & CULT FLICKS.
The DVD Age has brought a number of rare and “lost” films into the hands of genre film fans, from the 1910 FRANKENSTEIN to the restoration of 1925 THE LOST WORLD. However, budget label Alpha Video has released a relatively unknown gem of the silent era on DVD without fanfare that really deserves more notice.
André Deed was a music hall singer and acrobat in early 20th century France when he broke into the dawning film business in 1901, working for film pioneer Georges Méliès. He was soon starring in a long series of comedy shorts as the comic character Boireau in France, and later even more successfully playing his signature character Cretinetti in Italy. By 1911, he was directing his own shorts, and by the 1920, he’d begun branching out into comedy and adventure features, but he’s primarily remembered as one of the top European comedians of the silent era. For this reason, the many film guides list L’UOMO MECCANICO as one of his comedy shorts, though this DVD reveals it to be a full feature. And though Deed plays a bumbling detective named Salterello, the film contains more elements of adventure, horror and science fiction than comedy.
Though the surviving footage found in a Brazilian film vault runs only 26 minutes, records indicate the original film was about an hour long. For US distribution, Alpha has replaced the Portuguese title cards with English translations. And since so much footage is missing, they preface the film with text recounting the film’s plot, as taken from printed synopses from 1921.
Professor D’Ara creates plans for an electric-powered machine shaped like a human being that can be manipulated by remote controls. The “female adventuress” Mado (Valentina Frascaroli) and her criminal gang murders D’Ara to get these plans, but she is captured by Detective Ramberto (Ferdinando Vivas-May) through the aid of a funny little private detective named Salterello (Deed). As we join the surviving footage, Mado puts into action a bold plan to escape prison, first injecting herself with hidden drugs to feign illness, then starting a fire in the prison hospital to cover her escape. This sequence contains not only some dangerous looking stunts and effects, but reveals quite a bit of Frascaroli’s flesh in the bargain. Soon after her escape, Mado kidnaps D’Ara’s niece Elena (Mathilde Lambert), forcing her to divulge plans for the invention.
Elena is rescued, but as Ramberto confuses her friend Salterello with one of the gang, Mado escapes. The girl is found in a dazed state, but when her friend learns she’s returned home, “Salterello’s gaiety helps Elena recover her mental capacity,” (as the titles tell us).
A few days later, Salterello is attending a fancy party thrown by a countess when a huge mechanical monster, controlled from afar by Mado, smashes its way into the house. Salterello hides inside a large cabinet, which the robot lifts and carries through a wall and upstairs to the roof, where the little man narrowly escapes being hurled to the ground. Then, the mechanical man makes his way to the countess’ boudoir, where it rips a safe full of jewelry out of the wall and departs. Later, the mechanical man attacks Salterello again, breaking through heavy iron doors and chasing down his automobile as he tries to escape. Only a short circuit in Mado’s lab saves the little man this time.
Not long after, a masque ball is held at the opera house. Oddly enough, no one expects it’s the real thing when the mechanical man shows up at the party to caper with the guests until the machine picks a fight with one of the men and goes on a murderous rampage. In a scene foreshadowing similar material in KING KONG, the robot tears clothing off the belle of the ball and throws her over a balcony. Fortunately, Elena’s brother has had enough time to create a mechanical man of his own and sends his titan to battle Mado’s. As the two huge robots clash in a shower of sprks and smoke, Salterello sneaks into Mado’s headquarters to do a little sabotage work.
The robot is an impressive creation, with a riveted frame and snarling face that goes far beyond the cheesy designs seen in movies even decades later. Though it varies in size from scene to scene, the mechanical man looks to be about 18 to twenty feet tall, which qualifies it as one of the screen’s first giant monsters, and perhaps even the first giant robot to appear on film. Surely this marks the first battle between two robots ever seen in the cinema. The film is derivative of European adventure serials of the previous decade such as LES VAMPIRES, but stikes into new territory with its sci-fi content. The laboratory sets, with their sparkingmachinery and big screen TV, paved the way for the Fritz Lang epics soon to follow.
Alpha gives their discovery due care. The film is, as expected, not in very good shape, but the video retains the original tinting and the digital titling is in keeping with the film’s design. Unfortunately, the transfer is not given the correct running speed, which looks to be about 20 fps. The film is accompanied by a fine new score written by Rachel Gutches.
Realizing that even at a price under ten bucks, under an hour of program is inadequate, Alpha has provided a fitting bonus feature in 1922’s THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN, though another feature with more of a science fiction tone might have been preferable. This third (known) film adaptation is carried by Will Rogers in the starring role of schoolmaster Ichabod Crane. It sets the tone for several subsequent adaptations by concentrating on character comedy, and though Rogers is the lead character, it’s carefully spelled out that the vain Crane is no hero, and it’s no tragedy when he gets his comeuppance from the bogus Horseman.
Unfortunately, though also tinted and given a Gutches accompaniment, this more common feature is presented with less care. The print is not in good shape, and many details are lost – whites bloom so much that sometimes faces disappear, and a gag when Rogers shows the book he’s reading is lost in gloom. However, surely better materials can be found for this title, and it’s the rare main feature that’s the real attraction here.
Copyright © 2005 Brian Thomas, author of the massive book VideoHound's DRAGON: ASIAN ACTION & CULT FLICKS.
