User Reviews

In an effort to make more money than they do as traveling carnival show attractions, velvet-voiced ventriloquist Lon Chaney (as Echo), baby-impersonating dwarf Harry Earles (as Tweedledee), and strongman Victor McLaglen (as Hercules) team up to form a gang of jewel thieves who call themselves "The Unholy Three". The crooked trio begins operating out of a bird shop run by Mr. Chaney, posing as sweet "Granny O'Grady", mother of pickpocket and gang moll Mae Busch (as Rosie). The front works like a charm, but Ms. Busch attracts the attention of straight-flying Matt Moore (as Hector), who forms a "love triangle" with Chaney.

Then, an unexpected murder brings further unwelcome advances... from the police.

This was re-made as Chaney's first - and only, unhappily - sound feature, in 1930. Of the many Chaney hits, "The Unholy Three" seemed like the most obvious one to improve with sound; and, Chaney's performance in both is stellar. While the later version has problems, Chaney enhanced his already incredible performance. In this one, frequent collaborator/director Tod Browning is definitely an asset. Also remarkable is Mr. Earle, who hadn't mastered English for the re-make, but seemed fine by "Freaks" (1932); his wicked, cigar-smoking baby is classic.

"The Unholy Three" (1925) was honored as one of its year's best pictures at "Film Daily" (#2), Motion Picture Magazine (#3), and The New York Times (#3) - after winners "The Gold Rush", "The Big Parade", and "The Last Laugh". At Motion Picture, Chaney's individual performance ranked third (after "Best Actor" Emil Jannings and runner-up John Gilbert). The film is perversely appealing - which was then, and is now, a Chaney/Browning hallmark.

******** The Unholy Three (8/16/25) Tod Browning ~ Lon Chaney, Mae Busch, Harry Earles, Matt Moore

When I was a kid I was an avid reader of Forrest J. Ackerman's Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine, and it was there I first heard about the director Tod Browning. He and his work were prominently featured in the pages of FM, where the (still missing) London After Midnight was often lamented as the Holy Grail of lost films. There were also frequent references to The Unholy Three in both its silent and talkie incarnations. It took me decades to finally catch up with the silent version, and my response is kind of schizo; objectively, I'm aware that in a number of ways it's absurd, and yet it's great fun, and highly entertaining. And the main reason the movie works so well, I believe, is the sheer charisma of Lon Chaney.

Chaney and Browning worked together many times, but this was their biggest box office success. Despite the general impression to the contrary their collaborations were not exactly horror films. In fact, as far as I can determine not one of their movies featured any supernatural elements; even the vampire of London After Midnight turns out to be a police inspector in disguise. Most of the Browning/Chaney films are crime melodramas with bizarre details stirred into the mix, often involving people from the lowest rungs of show business, such as circuses and carnivals. Chaney's characters in these stories are often afflicted with an intense, unrequited passion for a young woman (most memorably and disturbingly in The Unknown), and his behavior and actions are affected by this obsession, usually to his disadvantage, sometimes fatally so.

By the time The Unholy Three was produced Browning had developed his recurring themes and motifs into a highly effective, time-tested formula. His directorial technique is stylish in an unobtrusive way: for special emphasis he'll highlight shadows thrown on a wall, forming a silhouette of the three title characters, but otherwise he generally avoids flamboyant touches. With a story like this, he doesn't need them. The synopsis has been outlined elsewhere, but briefly it involves a trio of crooks from the sideshow world: Professor Echo the ventriloquist (Chaney) who disguises himself as an old lady, a strong man (Victor MacLaglen), and a midget (Harry Earles) who masquerades as a baby. A pet store serves as a front for their activities. The trio is actually is quintet, as they are accompanied by a thief named Rosie (Mae Busch) and a bespectacled patsy named Hector (Matt Moore) who is somehow oblivious that his employers are, well, not what they seem. Hector takes everything in stride. It's perfectly normal to him that the pet shop where he works offers not only birds and rabbits but also a dangerous gorilla in a big cage. So hey, if Hector takes it for granted, why shouldn't we? The plot turns on a jewel heist that goes awry, in part because of Prof. Echo's jealousy over Rosie. However, in this film the story is secondary to the sinister atmospherics.

While it's Chaney's performance that drives the film the supporting cast is solid -- more so, I feel, than in the talkie remake -- and the characters' interactions have a "rightness" that persuades us to overlook numerous credibility issues. As in the best Hitchcock films, we're willing to ignore gaping plot holes in order to savor the set pieces. One of the most effective sequences features a police inspector who interrogates the trio in the wake of the jewel heist. He's unaware that the jewels he seeks are inside a toy elephant at his feet, a toy that supposedly belongs to the "baby." The scene is suspenseful and funny, and, for me, the sight of Harry Earles disguised as a baby is almost as creepy as anything in an out-and-out horror movie.

The unlikely twists increase to the point of craziness in the final scenes, yet the story follows the consistent internal logic of a deeply weird dream. It's no surprise this was such a big hit in its day. I was fortunate enough to see a newly restored print of this film at the Museum of Modern Art this summer, back to back with the talkie remake. The silent version in particular went over quite well, though admittedly there were chuckles when a title card glibly announces the outcome of Prof. Echo's trial. Afterward in the lobby viewers were enthusiastic about the film, and about Lon Chaney. Seventy-five years after his death audiences are still impressed with his magnetism. So here's a tip of the hat to Forry Ackerman, who saw the Browning/Chaney films when they were new, and was right about this one all along!

"The Unholy Three" (MGM, 1925), directed by Tod Browning, is the kind of movie only Lon Chaney could do best, playing a tough guy with a good heart, donning a disguise or two, and coming out with one of the film's famous lines, "That's all there is to life, folks, just a little laugh, just a little tear." In reality, it's a change of pace for Chaney from his previous efforts, playing a tough but sympathetic character in a crime drama.

The story features three museum freaks, Hercules, the strong man (Victor McLaglen), Tweeledee, the dwarf (Harry Earles), and Professor Echo, the ventriloquist (Lon Chaney), performing in a sideshow while Echo's girl, Rosie O'Grady (Mae Busch) goes through the crowd picking pockets. When Echo comes upon an idea of a get-rich-quick scheme, he, Hercules, Tweeledee and Rosie become partners in crime as THE UNHOLY THREE. They then open a store stocked with parrots that will not talk, but Echo, disguised as Granny O'Grady, the proprietress, arranges to have the parrots "talk" only in his presence. His gal Rosie acts as "Granny's grand-daughter," with Tweeledee is disguised as Rosie's infant son and Hercules as the "infant's" uncle. With the shop as a front, THE UNHOLY THREE rob the homes of their well-to-do customers, especially when they telephone to complain that the parrots they brought does not talk, thus, having Granny and the "baby" paying them a visit and casing the place for a possible late night robbery. Also working in the shop is Hector McDonald (Matt Moore), who becomes interested in Rosie but is unaware of the operation.

Watching Lon Chaney disguised as a sweet little old lady is priceless, almost reminiscent to Tod Browning's latter melodrama of the sound era, "The Devil Doll" (MGM, 1936) in which Lionel Barrymore appeared as an escaped convict dressed as an elderly woman to elude the law, a role Chaney would have done, I'm sure, had he lived. Chaney would play Echo again in his one and only talkie of 1930 bearing the same title. With both films readily available for viewing on Turner Classic Movies, one can see and compare both versions, in spite of some changes in parts in the continuity. Along with Chaney, midget Harry Earles also repeats his Tweeledee performance.

When "The Unholy Three" was presented on public television's 13-week series tribute to MGM, "Movies, Great Movies" in 1973, its host, Richard Schickel mentioned that this 1925 version was Lon Chaney's personal favorite of all his movies and one of MGM's biggest hits of that year. It's a grand performance worthy of the "master of disguises." Although a silent movie, one would wish to hear how the Echo character would throw his voice around to fool his customers. (Watch the 1930 talkie and find out).

Also interesting is seeing a young Victor McLaglen, the future Best Actor winner of 1935's "The Informer," still rugged but a little thinner; Mae Busch (famous for her variety of roles in several Laurel and Hardy comedy shorts and features for Hal Roach in the 1930s), usually playing a tough gal, here playing against type as a co-starring love interest; and Matthew Betz as Inspector Regan. Tod Browning's direction should not go unnoticed, with one interesting scene having Chaney discussing his future plans in forming THE UNHOLY THREE to his supporters, as presented on screen in silhouettes, looking something like a "film noir" crook drama of the 1940s.

The 1925 version of THE UNHOLY THREE, clocked at 86 minutes, currently includes the same orchestral scoring on Turner Classic Movies that was composed and originally chosen for the October 12, 1973, public television presentation of "Movies, Great Movies" a 13-week series tribute to MGM's 50th anniversary of its silent movies from the 1920s, as hosted by Richard Schickel. A worthy rediscovery to Lon Chaney's filmography of MGM successes (1924-1930). (***)

A great film...period. Lon Chaney heads a group of three thieves/carnival performers as they masquerade as an old woman, a man, and a baby in a pet shop where they sell birds that talk only by ventriloquism. Once the owners get home they see the birds no longer talk and the thieves are invited into their opulent homes. Tod Browning, the director of Dracula, does a marvelous job with this film. There are scenes that are just fantastic, the best of which for me is the courtroom scene. Browning gets a lot of help, however, by some real good performances. Chaney turns in a complex performance of a ventriloquist in love, yet evil, yet with some slight conscience. The scene in the courtroom where he deliberates helping Hector is acting at its best. Throw in a great job by Mae Busch and little Harry Earles as a cigar-smoking midget disguised as a baby. The silent film is a lost art only in that we no longer view it, talk about it, review it like it should. This film and the performances within should be seen not heard.

Lon Chaney known as the man of a thousand faces usually reserved those faces for some grotesque character or monster to which he brought his considerable acting talents to create sympathy. The Unholy Three is an unusual film because he's quite an ordinary man here, but he effects the disguise of an old woman for criminal purposes.

Due to some light fingered activity at a carnival he was employed at Chaney, strong man Victor McLaglen, and midget Harry Earles find themselves unemployed. Chaney who is a ventriloquist decides that the three with their unique physical characteristics and talents can be used to create a nice criminal gang. Chaney in fact goes incognito in the guise of an old woman and Earles plays her grand baby. Personally I think he was way too big to be a toddler, but that's a little dramatic license that director Todd Browning was taking.

Chaney also buys a pet shop and Mae Busch who was a carnival waif goes and lives with them. They also employ Matt Moore as a salesman who is totally clueless about Chaney's and Earles's real identity and what they really do.

Things go wrong and a murder is committed on a job Chaney could not go along on. That sets the rest of the story in motion.

Of course Chaney's guise as an old woman is an astounding success as were all the other characters he created. Yet all the makeup and special effects would be for naught had he not had the acting chops to make it real.

Saying that and saying that because Chaney's virtuosity dominates the film. I thought the ending was truly a cop out. It dulls the impact of Chaney's artistry and it was quite a let down in a film I was ready to rate a notch or two higher.

Still his legion of fans will be well satisfied with this silent version of The Unholy Three remade by MGM for sound, Chaney's one and only sound feature.

Vowing revenge on the world of ‘normal' people, a sideshow ventriloquist, strong man & dwarf band together as THE UNHOLY THREE.

Following Lon Chaney's great film successes at Universal Studios, Irving Thalberg managed to entice the actor to come to MGM. Anxious to repeat the box office bonanzas of Chaney's recent past, Thalberg signed a one-picture deal with Chaney's favorite director, Tod Browning. The resulting film, THE UNHOLY THREE, was such a hit that Thalberg quickly signed Browning for a long-term contract.

Based on a story by Tod Robbins (who would also pen the inspiration for FREAKS), Browning would give the film an appropriately menacing atmosphere, with flashes of comedic wit at just the right intervals. A crime caper rather than a horror film, the chills are saved for right near the end with the rampages of a ferocious ape (actually a chimpanzee, photographed out of proportion) which no one seems surprised to find in a bird store.

While ventriloquism may seem an odd pastime to depict in a silent movie, Chaney made it all seem so sensible. A consummate artist who only now is starting to receive the proper accolades, Chaney did not need to contort limb or face to portray a little old lady. All he needed was a wig & a dress. So well was he received in this role that it was chosen to be remade five years later as Chaney's talking debut.

Muscular Victor McLaglen (a British Army champion athlete) and tiny Harry Earles (one of the few adult actors who could disguise himself as a baby) give very solid support as Chaney's wicked cronies; much of the favorable outcome of the film is due to them.

Pensive Mae Busch scores as the waifish pickpocket allied with Chaney; this very talented actress would get to shine a few years later in a series of appearances with Laurel & Hardy. In his one scene as a stern judge, Edward Connelly lends his saturnine presence to the proceedings.

The Unholy Three is a magnificent piece of filmmaking. The actors really fit into their roles. The mixture of thriller, comedy and drama is perfect. Tod Browning shows his talents. This film deserves to be shown more. I saw it at the Umea Filmfestival this September with newly written live music that made a great movie even better.

How can one not love a Lon Chaney movie. His mastery of roles and his way of putting himself in the most awful physical contortions is historical. The old, "Too many cooks spoil the broth," is at work here. While these people were pulling off small crimes and picking pockets, things were reasonable. As soon as the loose cannon gets in and steals a valuable ruby, killing a man and harming a little girl, things go sour. The pet store front allows for all kinds of great visual delights. A midget playing a baby is also pretty bizarre. And, of course, we have the innocent man, who must be as dense as it possible to be, ignoring that strangest group of felons imaginable. Going around dusting the displays and keeping tabs on a gorilla they just happened to have. The finale is quite interesting and Chaney is superb. Just don't think too much as you watch it.

Lon Chaney certainly wasn't one for making conventional movies - as his frequent director Tod Browning was the same in his work.

"The Unholy Three" is one such film. The plot and the characters strongly resemble the bizarre and slightly horrific. Retrospectively, I can understand how Lon Chaney lay the blueprint for what would become the first cycle of the horror film genre in Hollywood.

This version is far more effective than the talkie remake. Tod Browning's direction is very good as he sets the tone of the film from the beginning.

As the leader of the gang, Lon Chaney is terrific but he is brilliantly supported by Harry Earles and Victor MacLagen. Harry Earles makes for a chilling psychopath in spite of his short statue.

Any fan of Lon Chaney will enjoy this classic.

if you're like me, you're thinking "why bother?" about this film. Give it a chance !! it drew me in, was never boring, was original, interesting and truly a very good movie -- yes, even though it's silent. At times, it's even pretty funny !! I feel so strongly about it that i wish it was on again so that i could catch the whole thing (watched 2/3).The acting and the atmosphere are top notch. It's definitely not one of those cliché ridden, predictable schlock movies. The man playing the "baby" is fascinating !! So innocent and convincing one second, then chomping his cigar and acting menacing the next. I give it 3 1/2 out of 4 stars -- i really liked this picture !! I can't think of one downside to it. High praise from me !! And the "baby face Finster" character (gangster midget !!) is a scream.

This Lon Chaney vehicle, directed by the great Tod Browning, is the story of three circus performers who begin to thieve jewels. They open a shop that sells parrots as a front. Chaney, a ventriloquist, dresses up as an old woman, one of his cohorts a man posing as the old woman's son, and the third, a midget, as his infant son (one of the major reasons to see this flick is that the same midget, here named Tweedledeedee, also plays Hans, the midget who marries the acrobat Cleopatra in Browning's later masterpiece, Freaks; in this film he actually is seen smoking a giant cigar, which, in Freaks, his fiancee suggested that he shouldn't smoke). One other circus performer, a woman, knows about their plans. Chaney loves her, but she doesn't reciprocate his feelings. The Unholy Three also hire a young dufus to help with the store. In case they get into trouble, they can always pin it on that guy. The store also sports a chimpanzee, humorously filmed so that he seems as big as a gorilla (when it is to walk through a doorway, it walks through a smaller doorway, for instance, than the actors do).

The story of the film is very interesting. It can also can be quite funny, quite suspenseful, and quite pathetic, especially when Chaney is trying to court the young woman. There's at least one masterful sequence, where a policeman almost discovers the jewels the gang has stolen. They hide it in a toy elephant, which amuses the officer very much. The film also uses ventriloquism quite marvelously - I assume that a lot of the audience of this film in 1925 only knew of ventriloquism by second-hand knowledge - they just knew that ventriloquists could throw their voices, not knowing what it would actually look or sound like. In a silent movie then, you could take full advantage of the audience's ignorance. When Madame O'Grady (Chaney's aka) is trying to sell parrots that don't actually talk as talking parrots, she throws her voice to fool the customers. Browning actually shows that the parrots are supposed to be speaking by drawing speech bubbles on the film in front of the birds! The climax also uses ventriloquism wonderfully: Chaney throws his voice to a man who is on the stand, apparently testifying - he moves his lips, but Chaney supplies the voice. Of course, we know that's ridiculous, but only a few in 1925 would have scoffed. 8/10.

Before he gifted the world of horror with two stone-cold classics (1931's Dracula and 1932's Freaks), director Tod Browning was an incredibly prolific film-maker, churning out melodramas, thrillers and horror pictures by the dozen. One of his best during the silent period was The Unholy Three, a rather twisted crime drama set around a group of ex-circus freaks who come up with a plan to steal their fortune. It's a premise that would have any cinephile salivating, especially with genre legend and 'Man of a Thousand Faces' Lon Chaney playing the lead and the film's relative obscurity. While it's no masterpiece like Freaks, it explores a different side to the circus performer: one that is dissatisfied, restless, and capable of going to extreme lengths to earn their riches.

After getting kicked out of the side-show following a mass brawl, three disgruntled performers hatch a cunning plan to rob some rick folk blind. Ventriloquist Echo (Chaney) will assume the disguise of Granny O'Grady, a nice old lady who runs a pet store specialising in parrots. The animals do not talk, but Echo uses his ventriloquist skills to convince the moustache-twirling customers otherwise. When the unhappy purchaser later calls the store to complain, Granny O'Grady will snoop out the place, paving the way for horseshoe- bending strongman Hercules (Victor McLaglen) and short-tempered midget Tweedledee (Harry Earles) to sneak in and steal any spied valuables. There's also an escape plan in mild-mannered store manager Hector (Matt Moore), who the three will lay the blame on should the heat turn up. But when Echo's girlfriend Rosie (Mae Busch) falls for Hector, the plan quickly starts to fall apart.

There are a lot of things about The Unholy Three that are utterly ridiculous, such as Echo's needlessly convoluted plan, and the idea that anyone would buy the cigar-chomping Earles as a baby in a cart. Yet the flaws are really the reason to love the film that much more. There is a morbid fascination to be had with watching these idiots repeatedly shoot themselves in the foot and quickly resort to cold- blood murder. Chaney really was the man of a thousand faces; effortlessly convincing as both a harmless old lady and a sympathetic anti-hero, and Earles - who would later appear in Freaks - is great fun, delivering what is undoubtedly the film's greatest line ("If you tip that boob off to who we are, I'll lay some lilies under your chin!"). The strange premise and macabre characters proved a hit with the audience, and catapulted Browning into the big leagues. It may lack the edge of his later movies, but The Unholy Three retains a ghoulish quality a whole 92 years after its release.

A film with several of director Tod Browning's favorite things - actor Lon Chaney, human oddities in a carnival sideshow, unusual disguises, and a killer animal. The first half of the film is interesting, starting with the establishing shots in the carnival, where we see the usual sorts of things, a sword swallower and a pair of conjoined twins, as well as some surprises, a burlesque dancer shaking her bosoms with the promise of more inside, and a little person (Harry Earles) kicking a child in the audience in the face out of anger.

A ventriloquist (Chaney) has the idea of forming a gang of thieves with the little person and a strongman (Victor McLaglen) to make up an "unholy three", and we soon see them in disguise, Chaney dressed as an old woman and Earles as a baby, in order to operate out of a bird shop. Both actors are excellent throughout the film, and the cigar-smoking baby scene is memorable. The sound bubbles appearing over the parrots when Chaney throws his voice to make them seem like they're talking is also pretty cute.

The love triangle subplot (with the shop owner played by Matt Moore and girlfriend played by Mae Busch) is less interesting, and unfortunately the film lags in the second half, particularly during a trial scene. The film tries for tenderness, committing breaches of logic along the way, when it should have remained dark.

Aside from a giant chimp attack being a little ridiculous, it also seems tacked on. The chimp was made to appear larger by filming with smaller sets and Earles substituted for Chaney with his back turned; it's the same technique Raoul Walsh and Douglas Fairbanks had used the previous year in 'The Thief of Bagdad.' As in two other Browning/Chaney films ('He Who Gets Slapped' and 'Where East is East'), the animal is deliberately uncaged in order to attack someone (in those films it's a lion and a gorilla, respectively).

The film is one of ten that Browning and Chaney made together before the actor's untimely demise in 1930, and while it's not their best, it's entertaining. I'm still deciding who looked better in drag as an old woman for Browning, Lionel Barrymore in 'The Devil-Doll' or Lon Chaney here.

I had an afternoon free so I decided to watch the two versions of this Lon Chaney classic back to back, beginning with this one -- Tod Browning's silent original. It's the story of a crooked carnival ventriloquist (Lon Chaney) who teams up with the midget (Harry Earles) and strong man (Victor McLaglen ) for a series of robberies. Chaney dresses as an old woman and Earles plays a baby to perfect their scheme. In many ways this was a precursor to the popular Little Rascals/Our Gang short subject FREE EATS, where a couple of gangsters act as parents to a couple of little people dressed as infants, mistakenly referred to as "fidgets".

Whether it's the silent version or sound remake, I thought this was a wildly entertaining story either way, though it's difficult to fairly judge one film or the other when they're viewed together so closely like this. There are pros and cons to both movies for me. The strength of Browning's silent version was that in many ways it felt much more stylish and better crafted, possibly with better production values... but I found I preferred Lila Lee as Rosie O'Grady (from the sound version) to the silent actress here, Mae Busch. The 1925 original perhaps feels a little too long, which is the only thing which kept it from being perfect for me. I wouldn't be surprised, though, if most fans prefer the silent film simply because it was directed by Tod Browning. My advice is to see them both! ***1/2 out of ****

But today's standards, this old silent flick is pretty slow moving and drags in spots but you can definitely see Brownings potential. The use of "sideshow" actors oddly forshadows his downfall in the ill-fated "Freaks" (1932). Chaney is great and Harry Earles is really creepy disguised as a baby!

"The Unholy Three" has the thinnest plot imaginable. Professor Echo's plan, which he claims will make them a million, revolves around selling parrots to rich people. Prof. Echo, a ventriloquist, throws his voice to make the purchasers believe the parrots are great talkers. When they complain that their birds are not talking any more he visits them at their homes with a baby in a pram ("Tweedledum" the midget) and checks what they have to steal. Luckily rich people seem to spend their time openly admiring their gems with the safe open.

And that's the plot in a nutshell. A very dull film indeed. Not even Tod Browning's direction can get around the numbing limitations of the plot.