Volume II: Filmography

AURORA FLOYD

December 10, 1912 (Tuesday)

Length: 2 reels

Character: Drama

Scenario: From Mary Elizabeth Braddon's novel

Cast: Florence LaBadie (Aurora Floyd), Harry Benham (second husband), Justus D. Barnes (father), William Garwood, Maude Fealy, David H. Thompson (Conyers)

BACKGROUND OF THE SCENARIO: Aurora Floyd was from the pen of Mary Elizabeth Braddon, born in London in 1837. Her father was a writer of sports columns and articles, and thus he set the stage for Mary Elizabeth's activities. Her brother later became the premier of Tasmania. She began her writing activity in 1856, and in 1862 a serial novel, Lady Audley's Secret, was published and became a best seller. Dramatized, it went on to be one of the great favorites of the English-speaking stage, taking its place with East Lynne, Uncle Tom's Cabin, Hazel Kirke, and other suspense-filled melodramatic works. The royalties from Lady Audley's Secret were sufficient to make her life comfortable from that point forward. Aurora Floyd, published in 1863, was not as well known but seems to have been successful at the time. Various editions were produced for the next 30 years. She continued her literary activities and produced numerous novels, including many of a sensational nature, most of which met with enthusiastic reception. She married John Maxwell, her publisher, in 1874, and became a mother. Her death occurred in England at the age of 78 in 1915.

ADVERTISEMENT, The Moving Picture World, December 7, 1912:

"Aurora Floyd is Miss M.E. Braddon's world famous story of the wealthy girl who was won by her own groom and of the maelstrom of trouble into which the match brought her, including her trial for a murder she did not commit but for which she was sentenced to death. Most grown people know the story from reading the book or witnessing the play, and the picture is easy to advertise."

SYNOPSIS, The Moving Picture World, December 7, 1912:

"Aurora Floyd was the daughter of a rich banker. While a schoolgirl she contracted a romantic attachment for her father's groom, James Conyers, and eloped with him. Her married life was unhappy, as her husband was vulgar, cruel and a drunkard. Her father, when he found how affairs were going, offered Conyers a large sum of money on condition that he leave England never to return. Conyers eagerly accepted the proposition, and Aurora returned to her father's home, not even her friends being aware that Aurora had been married. Six months later a newspaper account told of the death of the worthless groom. Aurora was now free and when John Mellish, the young squire of Feldon Park paid her attentions, she consented to become his wife, much to her father's satisfaction. Aurora entered Feldon Hall as the squire's bride just about the time that Mellish engaged a new trainer for his race horses. In this man, Aurora, to her horror, recognized Conyers, her first husband, and she realized that the story of his death was only a cruel trick. Conyers boldly blackmailed her, explaining that unless she yielded to his demands for money he would have her prosecuted as a bigamist. The note containing his threat was brought to the Hall by Steve, the half-witted stable boy. He suspected something was wrong, spied upon Aurora, and while she was out of the room returned to the room through the window, picked up the note she had dropped in her agitation, and armed himself with the squire's pistol, meaning to use it to subdue Conyers.

"The helpless Aurora met Conyers at a place agreed upon and turned over to him all the money and jewels she could get together. She then returned toward the house to decide her future plans. Steve, who had tracked them, now confronted Conyers and demanded a share of the spoils. Conyers refused, and started to beat Steve. The boy, wild with rage, shot him down, took the satchel of jewels and money, dropped the pistol beside his victim, and escaped. The shot had been heard in the house, and Mellish and Mrs. Powell, his housekeeper, started out to investigate. Their path led them toward Aurora, and she, to elude them, retraced her steps. Thus she came upon the body, and when the others arrived she was bending over the body, the pistol in her hand. Mrs. Powell, who always hated her young mistress, denounced Aurora as a murderess, and the case against her was black. Her gallant husband, however, stood loyally by her, even when the secret of her marriage was revealed to him. In court he was at her side, fighting desperately to save the life of the woman he loved. Aurora was convicted of murder, and was about to be sentenced, when Steve, the real criminal, was dragged in and confessed. The spirit of the man he had slain haunted him, he declared, and practically drove him into the hands of the law. Aurora, humble and contrite because of her terrible experiences, meekly asked her husband to forgive and forget her, but he clasped her in his arms, telling her she was the one woman he loved, and that in the happiness of their future life they would forget the sorrows that had been."

REVIEW, The Morning Telegraph, December 15, 1912:

"Invariably more is expected of a two-reel subject than of a single-reel offering. One is invariably regarded as a sort of 'feature,' whether it be a regular release or not. As a consequence one anticipates a better, more consistent and more interesting story along with such a production. And the desire is most natural. Here is an instance where possibly hurried writing forced an author to just miss the mark of writing a story that might go down in the annals of filmdom as a bit of a classic, just as other similar tales have in writing. But in story it misses the mark because of an anti-climax. Taking the story first. The principal woman, Aurora Floyd, is the daughter of a wealthy English family of aristocratic inheritance. In a sudden passion she marries a groom in the employ of her father. This man is bought off when the wedding is discovered, and temporarily leaves the country. A report of his death is received, but not verified, and the girl marries a rich man in her own station. Time passes and her first husband becomes a servant in the employ of her second, and commences a system of blackmail upon his real wife. An under servant becomes a party to this conniving and in a fight over his share of the booty he kills the groom. The wife 'happens' on the scene just after the murder. Happen is quoted advisedly, because it is such a trite way in which to string out the story, as is the death a commonplace way in which to lead up to the climax. She is accused of his murder, is placed on trial, and again at the crucial moment the guilty party turns up and confesses. All of which is anticlimactical because it is anticipated.

"Why should an author force an issue for the sake of the so-called 'happy' ending? Why should filmdom balk at the divorce mill when it is as common as it is in real life? Why not make the climax a revelation of the true state of affairs and force the second, if false, husband to take up the battle for the woman he had married or make the woman fight it out alone? And above all, why resort to claptrap melodrama? Scenically the Thanhouser Company has attained what it has in so many, many productions. The atmosphere of a refined home life is delightfully pictured. Individual portrayals stand out forcibly and the work of each and every individual deserves praise. The stage direction, as regards development of the story as written, calls for favorable comment and the selection of exterior scenes is well made. But it could have been done in one reel, and the story as it stands does not justify its lengthening into a two-reel subject."

REVIEW by Louis Reeves Harrison, The Moving Picture World, December 14, 1912:

"The strongest quality of interest in this society photodrama is the admirably-sustained suspense. But there is a delightful factor in the presentation of social gatherings that will be felt rather than perceived. The exteriors are chosen with clear understanding of what is appropriate. The interiors are a delight for the eye, and so is Flo LaBadie. This young beauty plays the title role and has at last struck her true gait. I do not mean to say that she has ever limped. Au contraire, her breaks have been of exuberant spirits, like those of a happy child jumping rope. Foreigners who have come here to receive impressions of America and make a commodity of them on the other side of the water usually live in hotels and complain that we have no social life. I have lived a great many years in Europe and have failed to discover any essential differences in this respect among civilized people. Wherever there is leisure and culture there is organized society. Social entertainments are very much alike the world over. They are formal or informal, according to the occasion, but there is a subtle force and charm about American affairs of the better class that is rarely pictured on the screen.

"Whoever directed the production of Aurora Floyd caught the spirit of our functions in the beautiful ensembles presented. [Note: The preceding comment indicates that not even the leading trade magazine in the film industry knew who was directing this film - in a time when directors received little publicity.] The men and women act and dance as they do in home entertainments, rather than in the strained and artificial manner of the stage - there is life and movement with no lack of refinement in the functions portrayed. Whether the play itself is located in England or America is of minor importance - it is produced here and is more or less representative of our ideals. Flo LaBadie has grasped the value of self-repression in her impersonation of the title role, has curbed the restless smile always trembling on her lips, and has made a creditable effort to simulate the sentiment she is supposed to express. She is nearing the absolute necessity of being the character she is called upon to depict. Only then is an actress convincing. It is probably the director's fault that she does not give time to the consideration of taking her life at the crisis - to be or not to be is a question not to be debated and decided in a few seconds. Those who have only half-formed ideas of what dramatic criticism means often wonder why I lay any stress on the quality of settings, but they possibly regard a photoplay as something to see and forget. I look at it as something to see, feel, think about and remember. It must make a visible impression of some phase of life to be of any real value, and one of the prices paid for success is taking infinite plans with small details that it may charm our senses with the beauty of form. I accord high praise to the settings of Aurora Floyd to the refined acting in all roles and to the craftsmanship that delivers a production with the minimum of defects.

"The play is an adaptation that deals with the situation of the young lady of wealth after contracting an unfortunate marriage with her father's groom. She elopes with the servant when a mere schoolgirl, only to discover his drunken vulgarity when it is too late. Her father comes to her rescue after a year of misery by paying the groom an incredibly large sum in cash to leave the country. All this is very artificial and stagy, this handling of an enormous fortune over to the servant on the strength of the latter's bare assertion that he will leave the country. This impossible act is barely covered by the sensational events following it. On the strength of a report that the groom is dead - the misalliance has been kept secret - Aurora is united in marriage to a wealthy young squire named Mellish. She is taken to his home and is there opposed by a domineering old housekeeper named Powell. Mrs. Powell evinces animosity for the bride from the outset and is constantly on the watch for some means to destroy her in the confidence of the young squire. The housekeeper's opportunity arrives when the real husband, the groom who was supposed to be dead, comes to apply for a situation and gets it. By artificial means a strong situation is now set up, where natural ones would have done quite as well. Aurora's real husband becomes a servant in the household of the one socially recognized as her lord and master, and the groom begins at once to blackmail his wife, threatening to imprison her for bigamy unless she yields to his extortionate demands. Suspense runs high. She almost gives way to an impulse of self-destruction, but decides weakly to prolong her intolerable situation. She gathers all the jewels and money within her command and hands these over to the groom, though this act purchases only temporary immunity from the consequences of having two husbands at the same time.

"Interest in the play runs high at this point, but tension is strained to the breaking point when it becomes apparent that the problem's solution involves the death of the first husband. This is merely an easy way out of a difficulty. The half-witted stableboy becomes the instrument. His curiosity becomes aroused; he becomes a messenger between groom and wife, and he is incited by greed. He witnesses the delivery of property by Aurora to her servant-husband and insists upon sharing the spoils. In an ensuing quarrel the boy shoots the groom, makes off with the plunder and leaves the revolver by the side of his victim. In a very large portion of Western photoplays the weapon is left beside the murdered man and some innocent party is identified as the criminal. Aurora Floyd is first on the scene, picks up the pistol and is accused of committing murder. In the trial that follows she is convicted and about to be sentenced. In this acute moment the real murderer is dragged in and makes a confession. He has been haunted by the victim and driven to confession in a state of mental collapse. All constraint is now over, the innocent, wrongly-suspected one is clasped in the hands of Squire Mellish. The question that instantly arises is that of her status at the end of the play. The first man was undoubtedly her husband. The second marriage was, therefore, illegal. As she is the groom's widow, not the wife of Squire Mellish, a second ceremony might have been more consistent if not appropriate. My criticisms are only given to perfect the present product and never in an unkind spirit but I have great faith in Mr. Thanhouser as a man and as an artist, but I have equally great faith that his company is going to improve on what has been done."

REVIEW, The Moving Picture World, December 21, 1912:

"A melodramatic picture of English life from Miss Braddon's popular novel. Recently the Selig Company produced the same story in one reel. This is in two reels and has escaped much of the cramped distortion; it is a very much better picture. But it isn't so good as the Thanhouser East Lynne, so similar to it in many ways that it invites comparison. The backgrounds and photography in East Lynne were lovely, more so than in this picture, which tells a more connected story. Both suffer in the transplanting, the first from the stage, the second from a book, and both seem disconnected, not organic wholes. Both are well-acted pictures and clear enough and interesting enough so that the spectator's own imagination is able to supply the breaks between the disconnected scenes. Aurora Floyd is good entertainment. If it isn't a well-constructed bridge, it gives easy stepping stones. Where East Lynne was liked, this will be and we believe that means everywhere."

REVIEW, The New York Dramatic Mirror, December 11, 1912:

"Several films have been released during the immediate past by various companies dealing with the same story. Just why it should have attracted such an excess of attention is hardly obvious after witnessing the results. For a girl to find herself married to two men is not the most pleasant sensation in the world - either for her or the spectator. There is an unsavory flavor vitiating almost every turn in the theme. That there is a situation, we admit, but what an unwholesome one it is. Contrary to her father's wishes, the girl secretly marries his groom, leaving school and her father's home to do so. Her lot coincides with the father's misgivings. In every possible way the groom proves himself worthy of the name 'husband.' It is only a matter of a short time that the father is appealed to for relief by the daughter. This he gives and rids himself of the husband with a check for $10,000 under the condition that the husband never appear in that country again. The girl keeps her marriage a secret, and receives court from another desirable young man. When a notice of the death of the former husband appears in the local papers, she marries. As we supposed beforehand, the husband lived and returned to blackmail the wife. He is soon shot, however, by another thief. The wife is accused and convicted by the testimony of the husband's housekeeper. A guilty conscience causes the murderer to confess; the husband forgives, and all is set at peace. That this story is distasteful in itself is not the fault of the producing company. They have done more than their share in promoting its success as a photodrama."

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December 13, 1912 (Friday)

No release because of the two-reel release the preceding Tuesday.

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