Je Suis Retournee!

I've just completed my Mabel Normand script. After ten months of investing countless molecules of emotional energy into creating a parallel universe in which Mabel Normand solved a series of murder mysteries in Hollywood in 1917 (yes, you read that right), I feel empty and drained, somehow on the verge of tears. This project meant a lot to me and now that it's over I can't imagine what I'll do with my mind, where it'll want to wander in moments of leisure. No longer needing to endlessly restructure and tweak my little film, what will I do to fill the empty spaces in my cerebellum?

What does one do when one is no longer completely consumed? As Rupert Giles says, I believe ice cream is usually appropriate for these sorts of things. Though even ice cream makes me think of Mabel! So I will watch "The Extra Girl" and clips on YouTube instead:



I will also share with you one of my favorite Mabel Normand quotes, from a Photo Play World interview in 1918:

"Nothing in the world is more vital to me at this moment than chocolate cake. I am expecting a four-storied one from the only shop I trust -- or that will trust me. But there is a maddening doubt in connection with it. "Will it or will it not,” I ask myself, "be iced on the sides as well as the top?” The sugar shortage forces economy and I have been warned to expect the worst ... Please go. I must be alone when is arrives. With great sorrows or great joys I seek solitude. I am not like other girls, you understand."

Dream Lobsters

He Did and He Didn't (1916) is a dark little film directed by and starring Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle and the fabulous Miss Mabel Normand. Films like this draw me to the more grotesque comedies of the silent era, representing, as they seem to do, a sub-genre fraught with unconscious dream symbolism and unspeakable violence (Keaton's Convict 13 is another).

He Did and He Didn't showcases Arbuckle the director at his best. He was less a slapstick/physical comedy genius (though he can gracefully wiggle his butt to great comic effect) and more of a director who made excellent use of his sets, framing and staging the action beautifully. In addition to really working the mise-en-scene, he continuously elicits some of Mabel's best performances, showcasing her cuteness to beat the band.

The plot unfolds thusly: Fatty, a prosperous physician, is married to pretty Mabel. One night, Mabel's old school-friend Jack comes to dinner. Fatty becomes consumed with jealousy as Jack and Mabel flirt and reminisce. Fatty becomes frustrated:

After a rich lobster dinner, Fatty and Jack both have dark and violent dreams about Mabel, sex, strangulation and gunplay. They awake simultaneously and run to Mabel's room, where she is fast asleep safe and sound. Jack retreats to bed while Fatty creeps into Mabel's room and closes the door, after flashing a devilish grin at the audience.

Considered unusual comedy fare then as now, I'm sure, there's something uniquely disturbing about the imagery of this film (in addition to the obviously disturbing nature of the violent sequences that are played for uncomfortable laughs, such as the scene where Fatty physically abuses his butler, or menaces Mabel, or, well, strangles Mabel). The version I watched also has multi-hued toning (alternating, mostly, between twilight purple and mustard yellow) which adds to the overall disorienting effect. And yet, it's completely marvelous, and I enjoyed it a lot more than the usual Keystone romps-in-a-park. There are some great moments where one absolutely has to appreciate Arbuckle's use of the medium, such as a dissolve in which the two lobsters the men ate for dinner are super-imposed over them as they wake from their nightmares and discover the cause.

Why is it that Fatty is much funnier strangling people and grinning evilly than he is falling into ponds? Perhaps I don't want to answer that. In any case, it's definitely one of the more memorable Keystones, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone who likes their slapstick comedy rough, and indeed, anyone interested in some of the better uses of the medium in early comedy. Really -- the image of the dream lobsters is quite indelible.

Funny Ha Ha or Comical Education of Young Girls

There's a film series screening in London England right now devoted entirely to comediennes of the silent era -- sweet!

Called Clowning Glories and Screwball Women, it features films in which Mary Pickford makes 'em laugh, and couple of gems starring my personal heroine, Mabel Normand! Hurrah! Now make this a traveling road show already and bring it over to New York City!

In other news, check out Scarlett Cinema's Women Aren't Funny, a weeklong series devoted to women in comedy: up-and-coming filmmakers and comics, reviews of all-female comedy shows.

Novemberites

This is a very special time of year for someone like me, namely someone obsessed with silent films stars. Three extraordinary women who worked in Hollywood during the silent era have their birthdays within days of one another, so I want to celebrate them here. Mabel Normand, variously cited as being born Nov. 9, 10 or 16th, Marie Dressler, born November 9, and Frances Marion, born November 18th. (I know this is not actually on any of their actual confirmed birthdays, but you get the general idea.)

Here’s why I love these women: they were smart, funny, and worked hard to make motion pictures that would go down in history. They worked in Hollywood at a time when women’s contributions as writers and comediennes were valued (hurray! We need that back … I’m looking at you Reese Witherspoon and Tina Fey. Bring back Katharine Hepburns and Carole Lombards while you’re at it too).

Frances Marion has a special place in my heart because she’s a trailblazing writer, the first woman to win an Academy Award, and her friendship with actress Mary Pickford (who we’ll celebrate in April) was one of the most fruitful professional unions of the day.

I love Mabel Normand because she was just nuts. She acted in some hilarious movies with Fatty Arbuckle, then later got hooked on booze, coke and morphine-laced cough syrup and then reputedly ate nothing but ice cream (after she contracted TB). Not only did she live it up and get involved in one scandal after another, she was even involved in not one but two murder scandals, including the William Desmond Taylor murder in 1922. Plus, she’s from Staten Island, a borough I once called home.

Finally, Marie Dressler is another incredible comedienne, who actually worked with Normand. She was a great big girl with what they used to call a "raw-boned" face, who was a breakout Vaudeville star before she got into pictures. I love her for being big and funny, and for being born in Ontario, Canada, the very province where I was born and raised (you can see I get around, for an old spinster).

To learn more about these great women, read American Silent Film by William K. Everson, Silent Stars by Jeanine Basinger, and Without Lying Down: Frances Marion and the Powerful Women of Early Hollywood by Cari Beauchamp. Without Lying Down is also available on DVD as a documentary, but first watch the stars in action – The Love Light and Stella Maris, both written by Frances Marion, are available on DVD via Amazon, as is Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which features Mabel and Marie in action (with Charlie Chaplin).