Posts Tagged With: Rudolph Valentino
In the guise of a dandy Cossack Lieutenant, who becomes an artful, gallant and very lucky bandit, Rudolph Valentino’s shadow yesterday afternoon at the Mark Strand renewed its acquaintance with admiring throngs in a production entitled “The Eagle,” which is based on Alexander Pushkin’s novel “Dubrovsky.” Following the first presentation of the film Mr. Valentino himself took the stage and thanked the audience for its reception of the picture, adding that he felt sure that by it he would regain that popularity he enjoyed a few years ago. While he admitted that his preceding photoplay, “The Sainted Devil,” was a poor picture, he refrained from referring to the picturization of Martin Brown’s play “Cobra,” which he finished before starting work on the present offering, and which has not yet been released. The Mark Strand was packed, the police were kept busy at the theatre entrance holding back the crowd, and an enthusiastic collection of people after the first show pressed around the stage entrance, watching eagerly for the screen star’s appearance on the street. Through the introduction of Catherine of Russia, or a modern conception of that lady, the initial chapters of “The Eagle” are reminiscent of the picturization of “The Czarina,” which in film form was heralded as “Forbidden Paradise.” Although these sequences in the Valentino photoplay are undeniably entertaining, they by no means reach the artistic heights achieved by Ernst Lubitsch and Pola Negri in “Forbidden Paradise.” Mr. Valentino is indeed fortunate in having obtained the services of Vilma Banky from Samuel Goldwyn, for Miss Banky is so lovely to look upon that her beauty makes the hero’s gallantry all the more convincing. In this production, which might suit several male screen celebrities, including the agile Douglas Fairbanks. Mr. Valentino acquits himself with distinction. He appears, to have benefited by Clarence Brown’s direction and to have appreciated that Miss Banky was a valuable asset to his picture. It was an excellent idea also to have Hans Kraely, Mr. Lubitsch’s clever scenarist, handle the script for “The Eagle.” Mr. Valentino first is seen in the graceful costume of a Cossack officer, his astrachan headgear often placed at a most acute angle. Subsequently he rides to romantic fame as the Black Eagle, a bandit, whose chief exploits are bowing to the fair. His lieutenants kidnap Mascha Troekouroff, impersonated by Miss Banky, only to be told by their irate chief that he does not war with women. It happens that Mascha’s cowardly father is kept on tenterhooks by the Black Eagle, who binds and gags a French tutor being sent to the Troekouroff Castle to instruct Mascha, and then impersonates the tutor, coolly reporting to the girl’s parents, who had incidentally offered 5,000 rubies reward for the Black Eagle, dead or alive. One has the satisfaction of seeing the Black Eagle massaging old Kyrilla Troekouroff with amazing energy, and then seeing the hero turn his attention to Mascha in caressing fashion. Kyrilla receives notes from the Black Eagle under his plate, and his mind is always uneasy. He is a cruel old fool; who has a chained bear in his wine cellar, and he looks upon it as a pretty jest when he sends a victim down to get a bottle of the best wine. This happens to the Black Eagle, who kills the “jest” with a bullet. Before he took up the calling of bandit, the then respectable Lieutenant Vladimir Dubrovsky had been told in private audience by the Czarina: “You are the first Russian to see his Czarina weep.” Dubrovsky had been commanded to appear in the royal presence at 6 o’clock, and it is explained that 6 o’clock meant supper and not Siberia. The young lieutenant, always so courageous, had abandoned the Czarina when she was about to mount her favorite horse, because he observed two frightened horses dashing away with a vehicle in which sat an aunt, a Pekinese and the glorious Mascha. This is a satisfying picture in which Mr. Brown introduces some interesting touches. It is well equipped with scenery and the costumes of the players are capably designed. Mascha, at a banquet, adorns herself with a wealth of pearls, and the Czarina, played by Louise Dresser, arrays herself as Commander-in-Chief of the military forces. THE EAGLE, with Rudolph Valentino, Vilma Banky, Louise Dresser, Albert Conti, James Marcus, George Nichols and Carrie Clark Ward, adapted from the novel, “Dubrovsky,” by Alexander Pushkin; directed by Clarence Brown; overture, Tschaikowsky’s “1812”;
Rudolph Valentino had many friends in the movie industry and one of them he admired about most was William S. Hart. Both men had much in common including a love for good food. Here is a receipe you might want to try:
The original theme of Martin Brown’s Play, “Cobra,” having been written for a woman star, obviously puzzled the picture-makers in their efforts to twist it into a virile vehicle for Rudolph Valentino. Therefore, this main idea receives but scant attention in the screen version, the narrative of which, as it is unfurled, is moderately entertaining until the director and his henchmen decide to include a fang or two of the poisonous reptiles. It then becomes quite absurd and the accompanying captions assist in the general decline. Nita Naldi is supposed to officiate in the title rôle, but she is not called upon to appear until the story is well on its way. It is soon after her entrance that the real theme is attacked, the adapter having endeavored to shift the importance of the character from Elsie Van Zlla to Count Rodrigo Torriani, which results in the distressing consequences. Torriani, played by Mr. Valentino, is painted as a happy-go-lucky nobleman who finds any pair of feminine eyes enchanting. One might infer that he is sowing wild oats with a vengeance, as he is constantly discovering himself to be infatuated with some new fascinating creature. He has only to shake their hands, look into their eyes, and the wicked work is started. One of these charming young women happens to be Mary Drake, a stenographer, who is declared to be sweet and innocent, and is an inspiration to the Count to cause him to mend his ways. This good girl is an artist with paint and powder. Her lips are like cherries and her eyes are liberally outlined with mascara. Yet she is declared to be so serious in her attentions that one would expect her to shy at the sight of a lipstick. The Count falls in love with this Mary, but he cannot resist Elsie’s black eyes, even though she is wedded to his fast friend, Jack Dorning; and this brings about trouble. Elsie is burned to death in a hotel fire and Doming eventually learns of the Count’s conduct. So as to ingratiate the Count in the eyes of the spectators, the scenarist has him make a sacrifice. He insists to Mary that he is just as bad as ever, and the consequence is that she marries Doming. So, in this little tale Dorning has two wives, but the Count remains a bachelor. Mr. Valentine takes advantage of the opportunity to wear a variety of clothes. In one sequence he is seen as the Count’s seventeenth century ancestor. After that he wears golf clothes, lounge suits, white flannel trousers with a blue coat, white shoes with a blue suit, and when he dines alone, he is so punctilious that he appears in full evening dress. In one sub-title the Count is alluded to as an “indoor sheik,” and the fight that follows gives Valentino credit for a Firpo blow, while his opponent must have a cast-iron jaw. Casson Ferguson, who officiated as the villain in the film version of “Grumpy.” and recently was seen in a similar part in “The Road to Yesterday.” in this current feature fills the sympathetic role of Doming in a somewhat stereotyped fashion. Miss Naldi, whose eyes match Sir. Valentine’s makes the best of a bad bargain. Mr. Valentine’s acting is acceptable, but he is not indifferent to his much-exploited looks.
Alittle bit of gossip I picked up from friends say Rudolph Valentino’s new house with no bride apparent on Whitley Heights, Hollywood is the most sensatoinal and exotic piece of property in the movie colony. Nobody knows what he is going to do with it. Presumbly he bought it in a fit of exuberance on discovering he would not be paying alimony in connection from his divorce from Jean Acker
In 1913, on this day, an 18-year-old, Rudolph Valentino, with youthful dreams and ambitions leaves familiarity behind for an unknown. A passenger on the S.S. Cleveland, the ship will take him, and others like him to a better life in America. The S.S. Cleveland was a steam powered ship, operated by the Hamburg America Line, transporting both cargo and passenger. In the end, he was a survivor and achieved the American Dream.
Rudolph Valentino holidaying in London, has been inundated with requests from English flappers for locks of his hair. He would probably have been balder than Bob Fitzsimmons he had complied with every request.
Rudolph Valentino, the famous cinema actor who just arrived from America, was the centre of an extraordinary scenes at a West End Cinema theatre, where he personally attended the occasion of the screening of one of his films. He was surrounded by a seething crowd, mostly women. The police forced them back and the doors had to be locked after the performance. Valentino rather than face the crowd which remained in the street, had to escape over the roof of the theatre.