'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' was Lon Chaney's favourite of his own films, according to Robert Gordon Anderson's 1971 Chaney bio. As Tito Beppi, an Italian clown who adopts a foundling, Lon Chaney pulls the stops out: playing a wide range of emotions, even legitimately over-acting as a circus clown. He also adds an elaborate Auguste-style clown whiteface to his gallery of 1,000 faces. And it didn't hurt that 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' had a hit song in 1928. (Yes, silent movies sometimes had hit songs: published as song sheets to accompany the film, these were performed by pit musicians in first-run cinemas.)
I screened an acetate print of 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' duplicated from a nitrate vault print missing Reel Four. This explains why Chaney's clown partner (Bernard Siegel, excellent!) walks out of Chaney's life in Reel Three but is back for the climax: their reconciliation is in Reel Four. Also missing is a sequence (filmed but possibly never used) in which teenage Loretta Young dons a pageboy's 'Buttons' uniform.
In early scenes with the infant foundling, Lon Chaney portrays a man younger than himself: here his make-up softens his features; his hair is dyed black and his bald spot is thatched over. The action jumps ahead about 15 years: Chaney appropriately greys and thins his hair, while adding wrinkles. The action moves ahead three more years: Chaney ages more than that in the interim, but his character is under great strain.
I had mixed feelings about one sequence: Chaney's character visits a doctor's surgery, complaining of depression. The doctor tells him to attend a performance of the circus clown Flik, whose sawdust antics can cure anyone's melancholy. Chaney sadly replies that this advice cannot help him: he IS Flik! For me, coming from a background of British and European showbiz, this moment was unimpressive because I recognised its origin: this story was first told about the English clown Joseph Grimaldi (1778-1837), and later told about Grock, a Swiss clown who was still performing when 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' was in production: in 1928, Grock was the world's highest-paid circus performer. 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' is apparently set in the contemporary present: Loretta Young wears some cloche hats and other 1928 fashions, and Nils Asther wears a wristwatch. (These were considered effeminate until after World War One.)
Chaney often played madmen or characters beyond the brink of madness. In 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh', he plays a man who questions his own sanity, yet he retains our sympathy. In one shot, Chaney's face contorts into rage ... and for an instant I saw some of his earlier villainous roles. This is possibly Chaney's only misstep in an otherwise note-perfect role that deserved an Academy Award.
Loretta Young, barely over age 14 here, is a seasoned pro: winsome in her early scenes as a girl her own age, then becoming a demure young lady in the scenes three years on. Several of Lon Chaney's MGM films ('The Big City', 'The Black Bird' and 'While the City Sleeps') cast him as a man with romantic designs on a girl young enough to be his daughter. (Chaney had no such penchant in real life.) Here, he raises foundling Loretta from birth, then finds himself wanting to pitch woo to her in her teen years ... but this time the girl (by adoption) really IS his daughter! This was the only aspect of Chaney's portrayal which I disliked.
It's well-known that some silent-film actors' careers were ruined by the coming of sound. Less well-known is that some directors' careers suffered as well. Herbert Brenon (who reportedly bullied Young during this production) was a major silent-film director whose career plummeted rapidly in talkies. Brenon's films had a slight unreality about them, which worked well in fantasies (his best-known film is 'Peter Pan') or in dramas with a theatrical background such as 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh'.
The film benefits from MGM's top production values. Only two details rang false: a nurse in Italy wears an American nurse's uniform, and I have difficulty believing that (even in 1928, before mega-tort lawsuits) a tightrope performer would perform directly above his audience without a safety net.
In 'The Black Bird', Lon Chaney (who never visited Britain or Europe) expertly depicted a thief from London's Limehouse district. Chaney employed the hand gestures and body language of an authentic London costermonger; I don't know where he observed these gestures (from an expat in Los Angeles?), but his portrayal convinced me that he was a genuine Londoner. In 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh', playing an Italian peasant, Chaney uses authentic Italian gestures and body language without going into 'mama mia!' exaggerations. Bravo, Lon!
SLIGHT SPOILERS. At the climax of 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' there's a brilliantly lyrical image. On the stage of an empty theatre, Chaney's demented clown hears the (absent) orchestra, and the audience applauding. This being a silent film, we SEE musicians' instruments and applauding hands superimposed over Chaney's whiteface Auguste make-up. This beautiful and evocative visual device would have worked just as well in a talkie film, but I suspect that -- if Chaney had lived long enough to film this story as a sound movie -- the image would have been omitted in favour of a straightforward auditory hallucination on the soundtrack. Compare the very similar climactic sequence in 'Stage Door' (1937), where Andrea Leeds plays a deluded actress who imagines herself preparing to go onstage while she commits suicide: in that film, the delusion is confined to the soundtrack, and it's not nearly so effective. As usual, when a silent film and a talkie depict similar events, the silent version does it better. Film is, after all, primarily a visual medium.
Despite my nitpicks, 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' is a masterpiece which works even with a reel missing, and Chaney's performance is a triumph: possibly his greatest role, surpassing even the Phantom of the Opera. My rating for 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh': a solid 10 out of 10.
I screened an acetate print of 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' duplicated from a nitrate vault print missing Reel Four. This explains why Chaney's clown partner (Bernard Siegel, excellent!) walks out of Chaney's life in Reel Three but is back for the climax: their reconciliation is in Reel Four. Also missing is a sequence (filmed but possibly never used) in which teenage Loretta Young dons a pageboy's 'Buttons' uniform.
In early scenes with the infant foundling, Lon Chaney portrays a man younger than himself: here his make-up softens his features; his hair is dyed black and his bald spot is thatched over. The action jumps ahead about 15 years: Chaney appropriately greys and thins his hair, while adding wrinkles. The action moves ahead three more years: Chaney ages more than that in the interim, but his character is under great strain.
I had mixed feelings about one sequence: Chaney's character visits a doctor's surgery, complaining of depression. The doctor tells him to attend a performance of the circus clown Flik, whose sawdust antics can cure anyone's melancholy. Chaney sadly replies that this advice cannot help him: he IS Flik! For me, coming from a background of British and European showbiz, this moment was unimpressive because I recognised its origin: this story was first told about the English clown Joseph Grimaldi (1778-1837), and later told about Grock, a Swiss clown who was still performing when 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' was in production: in 1928, Grock was the world's highest-paid circus performer. 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' is apparently set in the contemporary present: Loretta Young wears some cloche hats and other 1928 fashions, and Nils Asther wears a wristwatch. (These were considered effeminate until after World War One.)
Chaney often played madmen or characters beyond the brink of madness. In 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh', he plays a man who questions his own sanity, yet he retains our sympathy. In one shot, Chaney's face contorts into rage ... and for an instant I saw some of his earlier villainous roles. This is possibly Chaney's only misstep in an otherwise note-perfect role that deserved an Academy Award.
Loretta Young, barely over age 14 here, is a seasoned pro: winsome in her early scenes as a girl her own age, then becoming a demure young lady in the scenes three years on. Several of Lon Chaney's MGM films ('The Big City', 'The Black Bird' and 'While the City Sleeps') cast him as a man with romantic designs on a girl young enough to be his daughter. (Chaney had no such penchant in real life.) Here, he raises foundling Loretta from birth, then finds himself wanting to pitch woo to her in her teen years ... but this time the girl (by adoption) really IS his daughter! This was the only aspect of Chaney's portrayal which I disliked.
It's well-known that some silent-film actors' careers were ruined by the coming of sound. Less well-known is that some directors' careers suffered as well. Herbert Brenon (who reportedly bullied Young during this production) was a major silent-film director whose career plummeted rapidly in talkies. Brenon's films had a slight unreality about them, which worked well in fantasies (his best-known film is 'Peter Pan') or in dramas with a theatrical background such as 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh'.
The film benefits from MGM's top production values. Only two details rang false: a nurse in Italy wears an American nurse's uniform, and I have difficulty believing that (even in 1928, before mega-tort lawsuits) a tightrope performer would perform directly above his audience without a safety net.
In 'The Black Bird', Lon Chaney (who never visited Britain or Europe) expertly depicted a thief from London's Limehouse district. Chaney employed the hand gestures and body language of an authentic London costermonger; I don't know where he observed these gestures (from an expat in Los Angeles?), but his portrayal convinced me that he was a genuine Londoner. In 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh', playing an Italian peasant, Chaney uses authentic Italian gestures and body language without going into 'mama mia!' exaggerations. Bravo, Lon!
SLIGHT SPOILERS. At the climax of 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' there's a brilliantly lyrical image. On the stage of an empty theatre, Chaney's demented clown hears the (absent) orchestra, and the audience applauding. This being a silent film, we SEE musicians' instruments and applauding hands superimposed over Chaney's whiteface Auguste make-up. This beautiful and evocative visual device would have worked just as well in a talkie film, but I suspect that -- if Chaney had lived long enough to film this story as a sound movie -- the image would have been omitted in favour of a straightforward auditory hallucination on the soundtrack. Compare the very similar climactic sequence in 'Stage Door' (1937), where Andrea Leeds plays a deluded actress who imagines herself preparing to go onstage while she commits suicide: in that film, the delusion is confined to the soundtrack, and it's not nearly so effective. As usual, when a silent film and a talkie depict similar events, the silent version does it better. Film is, after all, primarily a visual medium.
Despite my nitpicks, 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh' is a masterpiece which works even with a reel missing, and Chaney's performance is a triumph: possibly his greatest role, surpassing even the Phantom of the Opera. My rating for 'Laugh, Clown, Laugh': a solid 10 out of 10.