Early Universal Vol 1: Skinner’s Dress Suit/The Shield of Honor/The Shakedown (1926-1929)(Review)

Released to Blu-ray on Eureka’s Masters of Cinema last month, Early Universal Vol 1 is a boxset celebrating the legendary studio’s formative years with three beautifully restored silent features. Each film feels carefully chosen to represent the breadth and variety of features made during the silent era; the domestic comedy of 1926’s Skinner’s Dress Suit, the cops and robbers antics of The Shield of Honor and the blue-collar morality play of boxing drama The Shakedown.

Each film is an example of Universal’s ‘Jewel’ feature. Following the growing fashion for feature filmmaking in 1915 (basically anything over forty five minutes duration was considered, by American Film Institute standards to be a feature film) Universal developed a three-tier branding system for their product, according to the size of budget and the status they had given to the movie. Unlike their competitors, Universal did not own any theatres to market their output, so this was a convenient way to give audiences and theatre owners an idea of what they had in store for them. The tier system was thus; Red Feather photoplays were the cheap B-movies, a low budget affair with no stars. Bluebird Photoplays were the next step up, more ambitious than Red Feather, they were intended for mainstream release but still significantly lower in budget and prestige than the Jewel feature, which boasted a lavish production spend and prominent stars designed to put bums on seats.

Skinner’s Dress Suit is a good example of this kind of moviemaking. Universal knew they had a good property on their hands as it was in fact a remake of a previous movie from 1917, based on a short story by Henry Irving Dodge. It’s easy to imagine the clamour audiences might have had for this production, enhanced by the pull of its stars, Reginald Denny and Laura La Plante. The latter had made her acting debut in 1919 aged just fifteen years old. Four years later she was awarded the accolade of becoming one of thirteen actresses to be named a WAMPAS Baby Star – the Western Association of Motion Picture Advertisers award for performers tipped for movie stardom in the near future. By 1926, the year she starred in Skinner’s Dress Suit, La Plante was recognised as Universal’s most popular star, routinely enjoying top billing. Likewise Reginald Denny, an Englishman from a theatrical family who had previously been the amateur boxing champion of Great Britain as well as a stunt pilot and pioneer in remote controlled radio planes (he designed his own plane, the ‘Dennyplane’, equipped with its engine ‘Dennymite’ and would go on to win a US military contract for drones throughout WWII) was box office gold in 1926, just eleven years after beginning his career in the movies.

The film is directed by William A. Seiter, who had begun life on the other side of the camera, appearing as a bit player at Mack Sennett’s Keystone Studios but who was, at this point, not only the principal director of Denny’s hugely popular movies but also the husband of La Plante, and serves almost as a template for the kind of ‘Keeping up with the Joneses’ Capitalist society domestic comedy that proved effective in cinema right up until the tail end of the twentieth century when it seemed to have found its final home in the world of the TV sitcom. Denny and La Plante star as a young married couple who hope to raise their standard of living. Spurred on by his wife, Honey, to ask for a raise at work, Denny’s Skinner is turned down flat leaving him to resort to falsehoods to keep his wife happy. Overjoyed by her husband’s ‘success’, Honey hits the shops – buying a gown for herself and the titular dress suit for hubby. Next, the couple head to the biggest party in town at the Colby residence. Despite feeling initially out of their depth at this ‘better off’ gathering, the Skinners are a young couple who know how to dance, making them a hit with the partygoers. All is well until the repo men come a-calling.

Skinner’s Dress Suit perhaps defies expectations of silent movie comedies in that it is completely without slapstick. This is a much more down to earth, realistic domestic comedy that employs some truly wry humour. My favourite bit is a lovely example of show, don’t tell. Skinner is running for the train to get him to work one morning when he is observed by two old timers seated on a bench. Without a word, each old gent places a nickel down and, when Skinner misses his train. one of them is a nickel richer. The implication is clear; the old man who bet against Skinner knows that he is habitually late for work (or they both do, and the other, the loser, has more faith in him getting lucky and making the morning commute one day!) and that this is possibly an everyday occurrence. That he is able to call it so accurately actually means that this stranger probably has a greater appreciation of Skinner’s character than Honey has! What’s refreshing about the film is how the couple are written and depicted. They’re a pair who are clearly in love and, despite their false impressions, are indeed made for one another. This is certainly helped by the superb playing of Denny and La Plante.

Denny may have been a pioneer in aviation circles but he’s not the star of The Shield of Honor, Emory Johnson’s 1927 movie about the newly launched airborne division of the LAPD – that’s right, Sky Cops! If Skinner’s Dress Suit pleasantly defies expectations of silent cinema, then The Shield of Honor firmly puts them all back in place with its law enforcement heroes flawless of character and face and moustache wearing villains. The film tells the story of Jack McDowell (Neil Hamilton) the police department’s first flying officer, and his father Dan (Ralph Lewis) a veteran beat bobby who, at sixty-five, is struggling to face up to retirement. It isn’t long before McDowell Jnr has his head turned by Gwen O’Day (Dorothy Gulliver), daughter of wealthy jeweller Howard O’Day (Fred Esmelton) whose being repeatedly hit by a string of jewel robberies in the district. Determined to get justice and win Gwen’s heart, Jack takes to the skies to hunt for clues which sees all leads point to O’Day’s business partner, Chandler (a tache-twirling Nigel Barrie). When Gwen disturbs a burglary, she becomes the archetypal silent movie damsel in distress, locked in the vault of a burning building. The villains make their escape in a plane and are pursued by father and son. Gwen is rescued, Jack proposes and McDowell Senior’s retirement is postponed.

If The Shield of Honor sounds like pure unmitigated ‘Copaganda’, then that’s because it is. From its earnest opening dedication to “that army of heroic men…often abused, often misunderstood…whose lives are dedicated to the protection of homes, liberty and happiness of the American people” to the Wings-inspired derring do, The Shield of Honor has an unmistakably misty eyed, hard-on for the boys in blue. In pint of fact, ‘Copaganda’ was the stock in trade of Johnson, whose mother Emilie, wrote not only this screenplay but the screenplay of his debut feature, 1922’s In the Name of The Law which had starred Lewis in the lead role. Like that earlier film, The Shield of Honor had a unique marketing campaign that fully employed America’s law enforcement departments in a mutually beneficial manner. Promotion of the film across territories would routinely rely upon free advertising from that city or town’s police department via a series of stunts or celebratory parades. With this invaluable appreciation from local law enforcement, the film secured screenings in major theaters – remember again, Universal did not own any cinemas themselves, their output had to be leased – thanks to the support and backing of the police who would gain both good PR from the film as well as a percentage of the proceeds at the door which would be donated to police causes such as the widow and orphans benevolent fund.

This boxset saves the best ’til last thanks to the third movie, 1929’s The Shakedown. Easily the ‘jewel’ in this particular crown, it was directed by William Wyler – who would of course go on to helm such classics as The Best Years Of Our Lives, Ben-Hur and Roman Holiday but who had, at this early stage in his career, graduated to Universal’s prestige Jewel features after proving himself on several two-reeler westerns – and is an example of a late stage silent movie. Indeed, such was the all encompassing, irrevocable advent of the talkie that Wyler’s film was originally revised in the edit to play as a ‘part talkie’; incorporating sound in some scenes for theaters equipped to play such a version, which was less than half of the 20,000 picture houses in the US at that time. This hybrid however has long since been lost and we must consider ourselves fortunate to have this original silent version, as it too was deemed lost until relatively recently, when a 16mm print resurfaced in 1998.

The Shakedown stars James Murray of King Vidor’s The Crowd fame in the central role of pugilist Dave Roberts, one of a team of scam artists who travel across the country fleecing gamblers. Through a staged stunt in the town with fellow fighter, the brawny ‘Battling’ Roff (George Kotsonaros), Dace earns the respect and admiration of its people to the extent that, when he agrees to a proper bout in the ring with Roff later in the evening, they’ll put all their money on him with Wheeler Oakman’s bookmaker, only to end up disappointed and broke when Dave takes a dive in the second round. When the conmen arrive at their next destination, Oakman advises Dave to take a job at the local oil rig as a way to win the hearts of the townsfolk ahead of the fixed fight. But it’s Dave whose heartstrings are ultimately plucked, thanks to beautiful waitress Marjorie (Barbara Kent) and Jack Hanlon’s plucky and rambunctious orphan, Clem. Experiencing both the love and responsibility that comes with what has proven to be ostensibly a ready-made family, Dave begins to turn against his fellow scammers and his previous life, taking to the ring against the imposing Roff for a legitimate, decisive fight – a fake no more.

Like Skinner’s Dress Suit, The Shakedown is a pleasant surprise. It’s a surefooted and smooth production that not only evokes the mood of the Depression-hit country at the time and the melodramatic acting styles one expects from this era is mostly lacking here, with Wyler skilfully conveying a more natural series of performances that point towards the changing times within the medium of cinema. It’s a bold gambit to place so much of the film on the shoulders of a child star, but Hanlon is marvellous as Clem and gives as good as those around him. It’s hard not to watch Murray without considering his status as one of Hollywood’s greatest tragedies. After being discovered by Vidor for the lead role as the ordinary joe hero in The Crowd, Murray succumbed to alcoholism and eventually was reduced to walk-on roles and begging on the street. When Vidor came looking for him in 1934 for a new movie, Our Daily Bread, he found him destitute and angry, outright refusing to star in the project. Two years later, Murray drowned in what many suspect was a suicide. The Shakedown is just one of a handful of films in which he took the lead. Barbara Kent’s Marjorie may have little to do other than be supportive and loving, pointing towards the redemptive path for our male protagonist, but she does it extremely well – and let’s face it, fast forward to the late ’70s and ’80s and Sylvester Stallone was giving Talia Shire more or less the same slim pickings in the Rocky franchise.

To that end, it can be argued that The Shakedown sets the template for many a boxing drama – still a successful Hollywood subgenre to this day – that was to follow, including the likes of the Rocky or Creed films and Raging Bull to name but a few. Wyler brings a kinetic, primitive, edge-of-the-seat power to the fight scenes as Murray and Kotsonaros steamroll each other with punches that, one suspects, made its mark on the likes of cineastes like Scorsese. In fact, even at this point in his career, it’s clear that Wyler was going to be special, thanks to a string of visually impressive sequences. One of the most talked about is the oil rig scene, where Murray hops onto a cable and rides to the top of the derrick – Wyler’s camera – and therefore, us – positioned just above him as he makes his dizzying progress, but this is just one of a host of standout moments, many of which may be less showy but are no less impressive. I particularly loved a backwards tracking shot at the start of the movie which sees Murray’s Dave stride out of the pool hall determined to stop Roff’s unwanted advances towards a woman (who, in reality, is in on the act). As he advances, the townsfolk assemble behind him and march along with much animation, scenting blood. Another striking visual sequence takes place during Dave and Marjorie’s date at the fair. As they take to the Ferris wheel and it begins its spin, we see the other couples on the ride at various stages of delight or discomfort. It’s a brief, but amusing sequence that reminds us that Wyler’s film is also comedic at points, as well as dramatic. Personally, I found it a knockout.

This two-disc boxset Blu-ray boasts impressive 4K restoration work on Skinner’s Dress Suit and The Shakedown, and 2K on The Shield of Honor, audio commentary on all three features, plus a collector’s booklet featuring new writing on each film included in the set. If you’re a devotee of this period in cinema, it’s certainly recommended and if you’re new to the silent era, I’d say you may be pleasantly surprised by what it had to offer.

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THANKS FOR READING MARK’S REVIEW OF EARLY UNIVERSAL VOL 1

Reportedly drummer Dave Rowntree still finds this film unwatchable; Graham and Ewan are a little more generous. That said, the film’s main asset is the one director Matthew Longfellow barely seems to notice: it depicts the band on the verge of releasing Modern Life is Rubbish, an album which saved them from one-hit wonder status and set the agenda for the next decade of British rock music. POP SCREEN

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