Volume I: Narrative History Volume I: Narrative History
The Varsity Race, a highly publicized two-reel drama released on September 22nd, was directed by Carroll Fleming and featured a large cast, including Arthur Bauer, Muriel Ostriche, Carey L. Hastings, and Irving Cummings. Reviews were enthusiastic, with Rev. E. Boudinot Stockton's commentary in The Moving Picture World being especially so:
Philip Lonergan, the author, and Carroll Fleming, the director, are to be congratulated on the story which they have built around events connected with the races of the National Amateur Rowing Regatta, which took place recently near Philadelphia. The pictures of the actual races that were obtained would, if issued by themselves as an educational, have made a remarkably noteworthy release of historic and athletic value, but author and director have so skillfully interwoven these with such a simple, natural, clean story of university life that they may well be proud of the combination of heart interest, suspense and thrill that they have achieved. It is really a big three-reel story, and the cutting it down to two reels has marred the effect somewhat by jamming the action in the earlier scenes and necessitating the employment of one or two otherwise needless leaders. But in one respect the picture is almost decidedly refreshing and unique. Not only have the actors entered into the idea and spirit of the author and director with marked intelligence and capability, but they have actually reproduced the university atmosphere, and look and act like genuine personages of real university life.
As a rule college pictures are not a success because the students almost invariably look like what they are, men dressed up as and trying to act like boys, but the present instance is a very gratifying exception to the rule. Even the actor "varsity team" when it is lined up, as it is in a couple of pictures, alongside of the other teams, looks natural, an effect made possible by the fact that Thanhouser has a real crew of its own, composed of members of the studio force who went down to Philadelphia and put in a couple of weeks of good hard work training with the regatta entries. The plot of this story is simple and virile and is told naturally and directly, and at only one point is it unconvincing and illogical. This is when Ruth goes to Bob's boarding house and persuades the landlady to let her ransack Bob's room for evidence. She finds the notes Bob has made and straightway takes them to the faculty. This seems unnecessary and is improbable. Bob's name was on the reverse of his fraternity pin. That was why Ruth recognized it. Its being found in the study was sufficient evidence to reopen Jack's case, and any of a half dozen more natural ways than the one employed could have been invented to get hold of the notes.
Bob is brought before the faculty, forced to admit his guilt, and Ruth, with the permission of the faculty, telephones Jack to hurry back to the university and take his part in the race. A little more skillful handling of the story just here would have avoided the sinking of interest that comes with Jack's vindication. The story is an excellent example of a double climax, but the two climaxes do not dovetail together smoothly enough. The two interests follow each other instead of intermingling, with the first interest - Jack's vindication - being made subordinate to the second - the racing end. It would have been better to have cut out the faculty scene and told the story thus: Ruth finds the pin, takes it not to the faculty but to the crew captain and varsity coach. They force a confession from Bob, take him to the president and get the latter's permission to send for Jack. By interspersing this with cut backs emphasizing the approaching race and the despair and gloom of the Garfordites because their crew is out of it - they knew nothing as yet of Jack's vindication - the suspense could have been kept up unremittingly and smoothly, increasing in intensity as Jack misses his train, commandeers first an auto by the roadside, which breaks down, then the speedboat of a Garford alumnus, takes his place in the shell, wins the race and gets his ovation from the wondering and elated crowd who scarcely realize what has happened until it is all over.
The New York Dramatic Mirror, in reviewing The Varsity Race, commented on the acting of one of its principals: "Muriel Ostriche is her usual pretty self and adds to her good graces in the capabilities of a first class actress."
The Final Test, a Princess film released on September 25, 1914, had a cast headed by Boyd Marshall and Reenie Farrington. By this time Muriel Ostriche, for whom the Princess films were created a year earlier, had been transferred to regular releases, and Miss Farrington acted in her place as Marshall's sweetheart, or whatever role called for by the scenario. Fans were not happy with the switch, and apparently Reenie was no Muriel when it came to acting. Letters of complaint poured into the New Rochelle studio.
The Harvest of Regrets was first publicly screened on September 27th, followed by The Trail of the Love-Lorn on the 29th and the Princess film, The Balance of Power, with Reenie Farrington and Boyd Marshall, on October 2nd. Reviews of these films were indifferent.
On October 4th came one of the finest pictures ever to bear the imprint of the Thanhouser Film Corporation: A Dog's Love, with Shep in the title role, supported by little Helen Badgley. Writing in The Chicago Tribune, Kitty Kelly commented:
Two more attractive artists never collaborated in a single production than this star baby and this star dog. Of them it is impossible to say which is the more so, though one demonstrates the maximum of naturalness while the other is an exponent of the maximum of training. For a dog, portraying the role of a heart broken companion, absolutely to decline the festive chicken bones cordially urged upon him bespeaks a discipline and a canine self-restraint almost beyond human comprehension. Helen Badgley is, as ever, the alluring, irresistible bit of babyhood that invariably wins the hearts of even the crotchety folk. She was only a poor little rich girl, with never a playmate in the world, so, while her papa read and her mamma wrote letters, time hung very heavy upon her chubby hands. When she cried for a playfellow, her mamma gave her a little cake and told her to run along. So it was that she became acquainted with Shep, who belonged to a house where the lady disliked having him sit on the chairs. Since Shep had a fondness for sitting on chairs, his banishment to the kennel was necessitated. The doghouse being just on the other side of the hedge from Helen's tea table, it was not long until dog and baby were consoling each other and filling up the lonely vacuum in either earnest heart, resulting in the intense friendship that made the child the center of the dog's devotions.
When Baby Helen, stricken down by an automobile, is taken from the tangible world, not only her parents are broken hearted. Shep's grief is consistent and prolonged. He visits the cemetery and mourns over the little flower-strewn mound; from a florist he himself brings flowers; he entices a young woman with a watering pot to come and sprinkle the wilting blossoms, and, like them, he droops at home, refusing to eat anything - even chicken bones. Then in the night there comes a vision of his little chum - accomplished by a clever photographic trick - who caresses Shep and leads him away out of the real world through the portal of her little grave. By this time the audience is in the state of rapid-fire winking, and in some quarters there is that furtive movement connected invariably with a covert kerchief search. Then suddenly the situation is saved and the picture ends in a flash of glorious relief with the insert, "Don't cry, it was only make believe," preceding a picture of the livest, healthiest Baby Helen playing with an equally live and cheerful collie.
As a general thing, I disapprove of the agonies of film mortality and its frequent projection of cemetery scenes, but this is one of the situations that must be handed the label "exception." It is a treatment that couldn't often be done, perhaps never again, but so winningly and with such delicacy and artisticness is it accomplished in this case that it gives one an experience of that bittersweet pain that is partly pleasure. In its pathos it is quite exquisite, and then it finishes with that little masterpiece of an emotional poultice and sends everyone away with the delightfully mixed up feeling of a streak of sadness sweetly frosted over with relieved happiness. True it is that when Baby Helen is doing the dying act, she is so placed that the audience is faced by indisputable evidence that she still breathes, but even a captious person - who had any regard for future film productions - would not insist upon film realism to the extent of having the leading lady cease respiring for art's sake. Such a person would go no further than to persist in his statements that he doesn't like to "see" folks die, and then suggest that the idea can always be made clear without actual optical participation as in this case; the effect would have been more satisfying if the angle of vision had been shifted. Besides this point, which, considering the methods in current film use for disposing of the "mortal coil," is wonderfully well managed, there isn't a chance for an adverse word. The picture is a miniature masterpiece.
An article in The New York Dramatic Mirror Note told of a talk that Philip Lonergan gave at the Inquest Club, an organization of photoplaywrights, in New York City on October 5th:
Mr. Lonergan contended that there was plenty of room for improvement in script writing, and in reply to a question explained that the way to have a script produced as written was to write it as it should be produced. He treated interestingly on many points of technique, his most interesting statement being that he had found most directors willing to work with authors and the editorial staff if only they were given proper material.
The Moving Picture World mentioned Philip Lonergan in another context: Note
Philip Lonergan, editor of scenarios at Thanhouser Film Corporation...has another honor thrust upon him. He is in charge of the entire production of the studio at the present time, and he is acceptably filling the position. You see, Lloyd F. Lonergan, chief of production, has gone away out to the Coast upon business matters of great importance dealing with the exposition that breaks there in 1915, and during his indefinite absence Phil will have charge of the big New Rochelle studio. That means that in addition to writing scripts to take care of the Thanhouser "three a week" and the Princess weekly release he has to devote the rest of his hours to the factory and the studio....
The Thanhouser Film Corporation could ill afford to have Lloyd F. Lonergan leave at this time, but apparently the journey to check on the arrangements for the Panama-Pacific International Exposition was with all good business intentions, as this notice in The New Rochelle Pioneer Note revealed:
Lloyd F. Lonergan returned from a trip to the coast last week where he went to look after Panama Exposition film matters for Thanhouser. He is writing the third big serial for the company to be produced in San Francisco and Los Angeles, dealing with the Exposition, which last will place the local company far ahead beyond all other producers - The Million Dollar Mystery, Zudora, and now the Panama Classic. Truly, Lloyd F. is in the forefront.
There was one problem: The "Panama Classic" was never made.
Meanwhile, actors, actresses, and other employees were deserting what was felt to be a sinking studio ship. Dr. W. Edgar Shallenberger managed the Thanhouser studio in a manner which did not inspire confidence among the employees, some of whom felt that his decisions were capricious and that he lacked motion picture experience. Assisting Shallenberger was Dr. Addison E. Jones, another investor, who by the end of the year was given the title of studio manager. Shallenberger took care of the business end and Jones supervised the film directors. Bert Adler, a key figure since the beginning, and in recent times the special representative of Charles J. Hite, left for greener pastures at Universal. Maude Fealy, Thanhouser's most publicized actress of the season past, relocated in Boston, where she had great expectations as the leading lady of the newly-formed Holland Film Manufacturing Company.
The popularity of Florence LaBadie, starring in The Million Dollar Mystery, was at an all time high in the autumn of 1914. Response from her fans was so overwhelming that, in her words, it would take six secretaries to answer all of her mail. She asked Reel Life to print the following message: "There have come to me during the past few months so many letters with kind expression, and requests for my autographed portrait, that it is not possible to reply to each one personally. But I will be pleased to mail my autographed portrait as an acknowledgement and appreciation as soon as it is convenient. I am taking this opportunity to express my thanks and best wishes to my admirers and friends."
Copyright © 1995 Q. David Bowers. All Rights Reserved.