Early Universal Vol 2: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea/The Calgary Stampede/What Happened to Jones? (1916-1926) (Review)

Hot on the heels of Eureka’s Masters of Cinema release of Early Universal Vol 1 in August comes this second volume from the vaults of the 110-year-old Hollywood studio, featuring one of its earliest productions, an epic adaptation of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea from 1916, alongside 1925 horse opera The Calgary Stampede starring real-life rodeo champ Hoot Gibson and the farcical What Happened to Jones? from 1926, starring the popular matinee idol Reginald Denny.

If the first volume in this series showcased early examples of the movie genres that cinemagoers still enjoy today, this second volume – released last month – often concerns itself with the sense of spectacle and of innovation that the then relatively new medium of cinema could provide its audiences. This is never more clear than in writer/director Stuart Paton’s mammoth undertaking to get the 1870 Jules Verne novel, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, to the big screen. This holds the distinction of being the first movie in history to shoot sequences underwater, care of John Ernest Williams’ Bahamas-based Williamson Submarine Film Corporation. The sea and technical innovation ran deep in Williams’ family. His father, a sea captain, had invented a deep-sea tube, made of various interlocking iron rings that stretched like an accordion or slinky. When suspended into the ocean from a ship specifically outfitted for its purpose, the deep-sea tube allowed communication and an air supply to depths of up to 250 feet, enabling the assistance of underwater salvage work. Williams Jnr, known as J.E, was working as a journalist in 1912 when he realised something about his father’s invention; if one were to hang a light from the ship, the seas beyond the tube could be illuminated and underwater photography could be achieved. When trying out his idea in the depths off Hampton Roads, Virginia – the channel for the James, Nansemond and Elizabeth rivers between Old Point Comfort and Sewell’s Point where the Chesapeake Bay flows into the Atlantic Ocean – was met with success, J.E. was encouraged to pitch his efforts to Hollywood.

In order to achieve underwater cinematography, J.E. set out to adapt the process even further, designing the ‘photosphere’, a round observation chamber and large, funnel-shaped glass window, five feet in diameter and an inch and a half thick, that could be attached to the end of the deep-sea tube and reflect the images back. in 1914, J.E. decided to test his invention by making a movie and duly headed to the Bahamas, where the tropical sunlight could reach some 150 feet into the ocean and thus enhancing the cinematic possibilities. As J.E. was a devotee of Verne, he elected to name the special barge he constructed to carry the tube and photosphere, after the author before going one step further by shooting a one-hour documentary affectionately titled Thirty Leagues Under the Sea. A showcase for what his invention could achieve, this now lost film climaxed with the action-packed spectacle of J.E. fighting and stabbing a shark within range of his wonder-‘camera.’ 

Thirty Leagues Under the Sea captured the attention of The Universal Film Manufacturing Company, as Universal was then known. Though by no means a major studio at this stage, they were nevertheless deeply impressed with what this part-scientist/part-showman had to offer the movie industry and, mindful of the public’s growing interest in submarines and underwater warfare thanks to WWI, they set out to adapt Verne’s 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, incorporating elements of the sequel The Mysterious Island in order to flesh out the character of the domineering Captain Nemo (played here by Allen Holubar), providing him with a sympathetic backstory that explained his origins. The production, with its pioneering underwater camerawork, location filming, vast sets and exotic costumes, to say nothing of the specially constructed full-scale navigable submarine, painted to resemble Nemo’s craft the Nautilus, exactly as Verne described, proved exceedingly costly for the burgeoning studio – $500,000 to be exact. Indeed, so expensive was the production that it has been said that the film could never hope to make back a profit at the box office. The knock-on effect of which means that, despite the innovations and determination of J.E. Williams and the marriage of his ideas to Hollywood, no studio would touch a Jules Verne adaptation for another twelve years.

Watched today, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea has naturally lost its cutting edge. The underwater camerawork seems more quaint now than impressive, and the film’s preponderance to linger on the aquatic life in the sunlit depths is sweet though a little patience-testing for anyone who just wants to see the story progress. We can forgive these technical innovators of early cinema for their enamoured play with a new toy, but we must be less sympathetic towards some of the liberties Paton takes with Verne. The decision to incorporate two female characters for romantic purposes is perhaps to be expected in cinema but, given that one of these is Jane Gail’s blacked up ‘Indian’ native and her love interest is the heroic white Union soldier, the politics of the day ought to have been expected too; Segregated America would never countenance such a romantic subplot and so it feels wholly surplus and unresolved.

The sense of spectacle continues with the next film in the collection, Herbert Blanche’s Canadian western, The Calgary Stampede made almost a decade later in 1925. The film takes its name from a real-life ten-day rodeo, exhibition and festival annual event billed ‘The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth’ that continues to take place in Calgary to this day, attracting over a million visitors each year. Unfortunately, the spectacle of the event takes second place here, relegated to the final reel. Instead, Blanche’s film tells the story Hoot Gibson’s American expert horseman Dan Malloy, out in Canada seeking adventure and finding love in the shape of French-Canadian Marie (Virginia Browne Faire). Unfortunately, his sweetheart’s father refuses to entertain their love affair, seemingly because of Malloy’s Irish name and heritage. When the old man is promptly murdered by a newly-released convict out for revenge, the Mounties presume Malloy to be the killer and our hero goes undercover as a simple-minded ranch-hand at the forthcoming stampede before everything ends happily ever after and justice and true love prevail. As you can tell, it’s a simple enough tale for audiences looking for some honest thrills and romance, though the decision to try and replicate the French-Canadian accent in the caption cards has not aged well; replacing T’s for Z’s, it comes off rather ‘Allo, ‘Allo like at best and downright offensive at worst.

“I wonder, what ever happened to old Hoot Gibson?” a character remarks in James Jones’ 1951 novel From Here to Eternity (later memorably adapted into a film starring Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr and Montgomery Clift). “I can just barely remember him. My God, he had grey hair when I was just a kid” Alas, Gibson’s tale is just another sad story in Hollywood history. The origins of his nickname Hoot are unclear; some say that Gibson earned it from his time as a bicycle messenger at the Owl Drug Company, others that co-workers on a ranch named him Hoot Owl, shortening it to plain Hoot over time. Gibson himself once stated that it derived from his childhood pastime of hunting owls in the caves of Nebraska. What is certain is that Gibson impressed with his horsemanship from an early age, competing at rodeos as a teenager. It was these skills that caught the eye of Hollywood, with filmmakers keen to use experienced riders for stunts in their westerns. Despite appearing in a string of films in his early twenties, Gibson viewed movies solely as a sideline – his real ambition lay in rodeo. In 1912, he won the all-around championship at Oregon’s famous Pendleton Round-Up, before victory at the steer roping world championship at the Calgary Stampede itself. When America entered WWI, Gibson served as a sergeant in the Tank Corps, before returning home to divide his time between competition in the summer and stunt work in Hollywood in the winter months.

By the early 1920s, demand for westerns became so great that Gibson found himself promoted from stunt performer to leading man. So great was Gibson’s star that he successfully made the move from silent cinema to the talkies and was, for a time, second only to Tom Mix in terms of box office appeal. Unfortunately, just as Mix found, audiences tastes began to change and the genre of movie these stars helped to shape welcomed newer, fresher faces like Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Audie Murphy and a certain John Wayne. Gibson didn’t predict this reversal of fortune and a series of unsuitable investments – including a sideline in aviation competition – left Gibson broke following WWII. In his later years, by the time James Jones was namedropping him in his debut novel, he found work as a greeter in Las Vegas (which led to his final film role, a minor, knowing appearance in the legendary Rat Pack movie Ocean’s 11) and at booths at carnivals and rodeos. He even appeared as a contestant in the Groucho Marx game show You Bet Your Life. He died of cancer at the age of 70 in 1962.

It’s only in the final film of this set that the overall theme of spectacle is conspicuous by its absence. What Happened to Jones? is a common or garden domestic farce which sees a wealthy young bachelor attend a poker party on the eve of his wedding day. When the card game is raided, he and his portly older friend seek sanctuary inside a ladies Turkish bath, before making their escape dressed in women’s clothes. A variety of disguises, misunderstandings and complications ensue as the young man proves determined to say ‘I do’ to his blushing bride.

I suspect the inclusion of What Happened to Jones? owes a lot to the partnership of its director and star, William A. Seiter and Reginald Denny, whose previous film Skinner’s Dress Suit graced the Volume One release back in August. As I explained in that review, Seiter was Denny’s principal director at this point in time and the pair were responsible for the kind of comedy that remained popular for many decades to follow. Whilst Skinner’s Dress Suit was a humourous affair that exposed the ‘Keeping up with the Joneses’ principles of modern suburban America, What Happened to Jones? feels not unlike a P.G. Wodehouse comedy, or an example of an early screwball comedy, incorporating as it does the farcical and downright daft behaviour of the young and wealthy high society. Again, as with Skinner’s Dress Suit, What Happened to Jones? defies expectations that many modern audiences may have regarding silent comedy, in that it is relatively free of slapstick. The biggest laughs to be had here lie in the convoluted situations that Denny, a pleasing and handsome English matinee idol – a forerunner of the Cary Grant, David Niven and, I guess, Hugh Grant screen persona – finds himself in, principally his disguises; firstly as a woman whilst on the run (predating the antics of Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in Billy Wilder’s Some Like it Hot), and then as a bishop forced to officiate at the wedding of his own fiancé to another man! The film is littered with many amusing moments, chief amongst them for me is Zasu Pitts in her role as Hilary the maid, ever ready with her excuse of “I didn’t see them come in. I didn’t see them go out. I didn’t see nuthin'”, a loyalty to her master that gets increasingly harried with each passing bribe to keep him both incognito and in the clear.

Once again, Eureka has not disappointed with this two-disc set, which contains fully restored prints as part of Universal’s ongoing restoration process (4K for 20,000 Leagues under the Sea and What Happened to Jones? 2K for The Calgary Stampede), commentaries, an appreciation from Kim Newman for 20,000 Leagues, and a collector’s booklet with new writing on each film.

THANKS FOR READING MARK’S REVIEW OF EARLY UNIVERSAL VOL. 2

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