Was Rex Ingram a visionary film maker or a dangerous maverick?

After a hickup last Thursday, we continue our Summer series on more or less recent film books. In 'Rex Ingram - Visionary director of the Silent Screen' (2014), Irish scholar Ruth Barton explores the life and legacy of the pioneering filmmaker Rex Ingram (1893-1950). Alongside D. W. Griffith, Cecil B. De Mille, and Erich von Stroheim, he was one of the greatest artists of silent Hollywood. Ingram directed such smash hits as The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921), The Prisoner of Zenda (1922), and Scaramouche (1923). His films made stars of Rudolph Valentino, Ramón Novarro, and Alice Terry ― who also became his second wife. After Scaramouche, Ingram went into a self-imposed exile on the French Riviera. Thanks to his box office successes, Ingram's career flourished throughout the 1920s, although Louis B. Mayer regarded him as a dangerous maverick. Or was he a visionary film maker?


Book cover for Ruth Barton, 'Rex Ingram - Visionary director of the silent screen' (2014). Publisher: University Press of Kentucky.


British postcard in the Picturegoer Series, London, no. 137.


Rex Ingram and Alice Terry. German postcard by Ross Verlag, Berlin, no. 807/1, 1925-1926. Photo: Bafag.


Italian postcard by Ed. A. Traldi, no. 88. Photo: Le grandi films Virginio Rebua, Milano. The postcard claims this is Ramon Novarro, but it is Rex Ingram. Ingram directed Novarro in various early 1920s films, such as The Prisoner of Zenda (1922), Where the Pavement Ends (1923), Scaramouche (1923), and The Arab (1924).


British postcard in the Picturegoer Series, London, no. 137a.

A fascination for the bizarre and the grotesque

Rex Ingram was born in 1893 as Reginald Ingram Montgomery Hitchcock in Rathmines, now part of Dublin, Ireland. He spent much of his adolescence living in the Old Rectory, Kinnitty, Birr, County Offaly where his father was the Church of Ireland rector. When the sensitive Rex was 15, his sickly mother died. Biographer Ruth Barton suggests that this lead to his later portraying women as either pure-hearted souls or tempting sirens. Barton had access to Ingram's memoirs which gave her insight into his life. Her book focuses on telling the compelling narrative of Ingram’s life and links it often with his work.

Ingram's father tried to push him into business, but Rex wanted to be an artist. After failing to get into Trinity College Dublin, much to his father’s shame, he emigrated in 1911 to the United States. He was 18 and studied briefly sculpture at the Yale University School of Art, where he also contributed to The Yale Record, a campus humour magazine. In New York, Rex met the son of inventor and film pioneer Thomas Edison, and he decided to move into the new movie business. From 1913, the handsome young Irishman acted in silent films for the Edison studios, and in 1915, he took his mother’s name, Ingram, as his surname. So interestingly he changed his name Hitchcock in order to break into the cinema! Barton however suggests that the name change was meant as a firm break with his father's ambitions for him.

After Edison, he worked with legendary director D.W. Griffith at the Biograph Studios for a while. Ingram later also worked for Vitagraph, Fox and Universal. Soon he took on writing, producing and directing jobs, directing mainly action or supernatural films. His first film as producer-director was the romantic drama The Great Problem (Rex Ingram, 1916) with Violet Mersereau. In his following films such as Black Orchids (Rex Ingram, 1917) with Cleo Madison, The Little Terror (Rex Ingram, 1917) and The Flower of Doom (Rex Ingram, 1917), he showed a fascination for the bizarre and the grotesque.

In 1920, Rex Ingram moved to Metro. There, he was under supervision of executive June Mathis. Together, they hired young Italian immigrant dancer Rudolph Valentino to star in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Rex Ingram, 1921) opposite Alice Terry. Valentino's film's sizzling tango sequence turned the film into a smash hit. Mathis and Ingram would make four films together, also Hearts are Trump (Rex Ingram, 1920) again with Alice Terry, The Conquering Power (Rex Ingram, 1921) with Valentino and Terry, and Turn to the Right (Rex Ingram, 1922).

After Valentino left Metro for Paramount, Rex Ingram needed a new leading man, and took a chance on a young, handsome Mexican, who would become Ramon Novarro. With his role as the villain Rupert von Hentzau in The Prisoner of Zenda (Rex Ingram, 1922) he became Ingram's new star. Ingram also gathered a steady technical crew around him. Very important for his films would be cameraman John Seitz, who invented the matte painting. Also important for Ingram's films was his editor, Grant Whytock.

Ruth Barton describes how Ingram and his crew worked. The Prisoner of Zenda features careful lighting, well-placed props, and a novel 3-D effect. In one shot, two soldiers drink and play cards. Behind them, to the right, a military statue stands out, in focus. Still farther back in the room, and to the left, a young man plays piano. It is Ramon Novarro. Almost a painting, the effect is multi-dimensional.

On 5 November 1921, Ingram and Alice Terry were married in Adobe Flores in South Pasadena. It was on a Saturday and they sneaked off the set of The Prisoner of Zenda (Rex Ingram, 1922) without telling anyone. The next day they saw three films and went back to work on Monday. When the film was completed, they went to San Francisco for their honeymoon. Ruth Barton speaks of his rumoured bisexuality, but it remains unconfirmed. In his work you can see undertones of what was probably an actively bisexual life.

Ingram's films contain splendid flashes of macabre fantasy, such as the ride of the Four Horsemen in the Valentino epic, or the 'ghoul visions' that bring about the death of the miser in The Conquering Power (Rex Ingram, 1921). His more or less mystical bent was later apparent in Mare Nostrum (Rex Ingram, 1926) and The Garden of Allah (Rex Ingram, 1927), which he filmed in the Mediterranean and North Africa, respectively.


Spanish collectors card by Chocolate Amatller, Series EE, artist no. 40, no. 82.


Spanish collectors card by Chocolate Amatller, Series EE, artist no. 41, no. 83. Lewis Stone In The Prisoner of Zenda (Rex Ingram, 1922).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 748/1. Photo: Bafag. Rudolph Valentino and Alice Terry in The Conquering Power (Rex Ingram, 1921).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 679/4. Photo: Bafag. Lewis Stone as Rudolph Rassendyll and Alice Terry as Princess Flavia in The Prisoner of Zenda (Rex Ingram, 1922). Stuart Holmes is the man in black on the right. The Bismarck-like guy behind Terry is the actor Robert Edeson, who plays Colonel Sapt. Behind him is actor Malcolm McGregor, who plays Captain Fritz von Tarlenheim. Both are the loyal aids of the King, defending him against his evil half-brother Michael (Stuart Holmes) and his plotting cronies: his mistress Antoinette (Barbara la Marr) and Rupert von Hentzau (Ramon Novarro). Trying to stop a coup by Michael, who has abducted and imprisoned the real king, Sapt and Tarlenheim arrange a lookalike cousin of the king to be crowned (which we see on this card). The substitute king falls in love with Princess Flavia but he cannot tell the truth... Stone played both the King and his lookalike.


Italian postcard by G.B. Falci, Milano, no. 447. Ramon Novarro and Alice Terry in the Metro Pictures production Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923).


Italian postcard by G.B. Falci, Milano, no. 457. Ramon Novaro in Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923).

Converting to the Islam

In 1923, the restless Rex Ingram and Alice Terry relocated to the French Riviera. They hired the Victorine Studio, a small studio in Nice and made several films on location in North Africa, Spain, and Italy for MGM and other studios. Outside the view of Louis B. Mayer, the new head of MGM, and the movie moguls he created such films as Mare Nostrum (Rex Ingram, 1926), The Garden of Allah (Rex Ingram, 1927) and The Three Passions (Rex Ingram, 1929).

Was Ingram indeed the dangerous maverick which Mayer saw in him? Or was he the true visionary, as Ruth Barton claims. To be honest, I personally can't judge this while I did not see enough films by Ingram yet. During the 1920s, film critics praised the pictorial qualities of his work but also commented on the lack of dramatic pacing and the unrounded characterisation. These faults were more and more apparent is his last films.

Barton convinced me that Ingram was a complex figure who cannot be easily categorised. His temperament was volatile and his working periods at the various studios were short. Invariably, he fell out with superiors and co-workers.  Barton describes him as a charming, talented but also difficult and demanding artist. The more earth-bound Alice Terry kept the tyrannical perfectionist on track. She even co-directed his films in difficult periods.

In 1926, Ingram made The Magician, starring Paul 'Der Golem' Wegener. Although Wegener's acting was already old-fashioned, Ingram slowly builds the film to a rousing climax. Flashing lightning surrounds an old castle, where the magician battles the young hero (Ivan Petrovich). Earlier, the young heroine (Alice Terry) is transported to an underworld dream-land, complete with Pan, the Devil, and a host of partially dressed dancers. The Magician was successful, but Louis B. Mayer ended Ingram's career at MGM.

Amongst those who worked for Ingram at MGM on the Riviera during this period was the young Michael Powell, who later went on to direct (with Emeric Pressburger) The Red Shoes (1948) and other classics, and technician Leonti Planskoy. By Powell's own account, Ingram was a major influence on him, especially in its themes in illusion, dreaming, magic and the surreal. Also director David Lean said he was indebted to Ingram. And MGM studio chief Dore Schary listed the top creative people in Hollywood as D. W. Griffith, Ingram, Cecil B. DeMille and Erich von Stroheim (in declining order of importance). Von Stroheim however called Ingram the "world's greatest director..."

The coming of sound forced Ingram to relinquish his studios in Nice. Rather than equip them for talking pictures, he chose instead to travel and pursue a writing career. Rex Ingram made only one sound film, Baroud/Love in Morocco (Rex Ingram, Alice Terry, 1932-1933) with Pierre Batcheff, filmed for Gaumont British Pictures in Morocco. The film was not a commercial success and Ingram, only forty years old, left the film business. He returned to Los Angeles to work as a sculptor and writer.

Interested in Islam as early as 1927, Rex Ingram converted to the faith in 1933. He spent his later years travelling across the wind-swept North African desert, often alone. He also became an avid collector of ancient artifacts. In his last years he also planned a biography on the life of Haitian leader Toussaint, but it was never filmed. Ironically, Sergei M. Eisenstein, who was planning a biopic on Toussaint, also didn't make his film.

Suffering from high blood pressure, Rex Ingram died in 1950 of a cerebral hemorrhage in North Hollywood, at the age of 58. He was interred in the Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Glendale, California. Ingram married twice, first to actress Doris Pawn in 1917; this ended in divorce in 1920. He then married Alice Terry in 1921, with whom he remained for the rest of his life. Both marriages were childless. Terry inherited his estate of $200,000, including rare art works, old swords, and ancient guns.

For his contribution to the motion picture industry, Rex Ingram has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 1651 Vine Street. And there is this insightful and entertaining biography by Ruth Barton, it's a joy to read. Dangerous maverick or visionary film director? I guess he was both, with Erich von Stroheim and Orson Welles to keep him excellent company.

Next Tuesday, EFSP has a film special on Mare Nostrum (Rex Ingram, 1926).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 1033/2. Photo: Phoebus Film. Alice Terry in Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923).


German postcard by Ross Verlag. Photo: Metro / Phoebus. A scene from Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923), depicting the French Revolution: Danton (George Siegmann) leading the mob.


Italian postcard by Ballerini & Fratini, Florence, no. 426. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn, Roma. Antonio Moreno and Alice Terry in Mare Nostrum (Rex Ingram, 1926).


Romanian postcard. Antonio Moreno and Alice Terry in Mare Nostrum (Rex Ingram, 1926).


French postcard by Cinémagazine-Edition, no. 132. Photo: Ivan Petrovich in The Magician (Rex Ingram, 1926).


French postcard by Editions Cinémagazines, no. 161. Paul Wegener in The Magician (Rex Ingram, 1926).


French postcard by Editions Cinémagazine, no. 193. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Alice Terry in The Garden of Allah (Rex Ingram, 1927).


British postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 3538/1. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Alice Terry and Ivan Petrovich in The Garden of Allah (Rex Ingram, 1927).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 4854/1, 1929-1930. Photo: United Artists. Ivan Petrovich and Alice Terry in The Three Passions (Rex Ingram, 1928). Collection: Geoffrey Donaldson Institute.

Sources: Book, Brian McIlroy (Estudiosirlandeses), Stephen Totterdell (Film Ireland), Rex Ingram website, Wikipedia and IMDb.

Mata Hari (1931)

Earlier this week, the Fries Museum in Leeuwarden opened its exhibition on exotic dancer and executed spy Mata Hari (1876-1917). From the local newspapers in Friesland to the New York Times, all critics were positive in their reviews. EFSP updates an earlier post on the Leeuwarden-born 'red dancer' who was an international society figure between 1905 and the First World War. EFSP contributor Ivo Blom is one of the researchers for the exhibition. About his research he wrote two fascinating articles on his personal blog, of which we post two excerpts in combination with postcards from the classic Hollywood biopic Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931) starring Greta Garbo and Ramon Novarro.


Mata Hari. French postcard by SIP (Société Industrielle de Photographie). Photo: Waléry, Paris. Collection: Marlène Pilaete.


Dutch postcard by JosPe, no. 299. Photo: Clarence Sinclair Bull / Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


French postcard by EDUG, no. 1030. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931) with Greta Garbo and Ramon Novarro.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 659. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931) with Greta Garbo.

Researching a clip of a fashionable lady

Ivo Blom: "Still materials of Mata Hari are abundant: gorgeous coloured postcards, studio photos by prominents such as Emilio Sommariva, actuality photos etc., but what lacked were moving images. With a woman who was such a society figure between 1905 and the First World War, one asks himself why Pathé, Gaumont or any other prominent company did not film this woman, whose oriental dances had caused such a stir in Paris and beyond, and who was the mistress of many a prominent figure in politics, finance and culture?

Thus in films on her life or compilation films on the First World War a clip persisted of a fashionable lady helped in her coat by a doorman. She afterwards steps into a luxurious car with chauffeur and is driven away. This clip, coined as being with Mata Hari, has been used over and again as real footage with Mata Hari.

Even the respectable site EFG1914, supported and replenished by various European Film Archives, including the Dutch EYE, holds a compilation film that contains the same clip. It may be well have been the original culprit of the massive reuse and mythologization of ‘real’ film footage with Mata Hari. The compilation film uploaded by LUCE is the Italian version of 14-18 (1963) by French filmmaker Jean Aurel. The commentary states we notice Mata Hari here, helped into a taxi. The image quality was too poor to recognize any person. So where did Aurel did take it from? Could I get a better image quality?

Researching this clip was quite an adventure. I first contacted the CNC (Centre National pour la Cinématographie) near Paris, where Béatrice Paste kindly indicated me the compilation 14-18 by Aurel was a Gaumont production and CNC had recently digitized the film. Paste advised me to contact the Cinémathèque Gaumont. So I contacted curator Manuela Padoan who referred me to Nathalie Sitko, who proved to be an avid documentalist and helpful researcher.

In the meantime I searched myself on the site of Pathé-Gaumont-Archives. There I found the compilation documentary Paris après 3 ans de guerre (1917) by Gaumont, which contained the same clip, but now without any indication of Mata Hari. The description on the Gaumont site just said: ”Au pied d’un escalier, une femme élégante (bourgeoise) enfile son manteau aidé d’un maître d’hôtel, elle attend son véhicule et monte dans l’automobile.”

The film had been uploaded in HD, so the image quality was really good. Still, I had my doubts whether this was really the famous Mata Hari. My doubts proved to be right. Read on at Ivo Blom's blog."


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 701. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 6521/1, 1931-1932. Photo: MGM. Greta Garbo in Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 6522/1, 1931-1932. Photo: Clarence Sinclair Bull / Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 6522/4, 1931-1932. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).

Asta Nielsen and the Copy Cats

Ivo Blom: "In many analogue and digital sources a film entitled Mata Hari/Die Spionin (Ludwig Wolf, 1920/1921), starring Asta Nielsen, is listed as the oldest biopic of the life of Mata Hari aka Lady MacLeod aka Margaretha Zelle. You will find this on the Internet Movie Database (IMDb), which in general for German silent cinema is quite unreliable.

But one also traces it in the English and Dutch Wikipedia, James Monaco’s The Movie Guide, David Thompson’s The New Biographical Dictionary of Film, James Robert Parish’s Prostitution in Hollywood films, Jerry Vermilye’s More films from the thirties, Georg Seeßlen’s Filmwissen: Thriller: Grundlagen des populären Films and several earlier publications by the same author, Léon Schirmann’s Mata-Hari: autopsie d’une machination, Michael R. Pitts’s The Great Spies Pictures, Valeria Palumbo’s Le figlie di Lilith: vipere, dive, dark ladies e femmes fatales : l’altra ribellione femminile, Rüdiger Dirk and Claudius Sowa’s Paris im Film: Filmografie einer Stadt, and many others. The English Wikipedia even indicates Mata Hari (1920) and Die Spionin (1921) as two separate films, both about Mata Hari.

Nevertheless, my suspicions arose when I could not find the film on the generally quite thorough German films site www.filmportal.de. When I launched a call for more information on the Facebook site of Domitor, the network for researchers dealing with early cinema, my suspicions increased.

Joseph Juenger, Artistic Director at Stummfilm-Festival Karlsruhe, asked if I was really sure about this film. He could‘t find a film with the title Die Spionin, neither on the FIAF-CD nor in the 2010 two-volume extensive monography on Asta Nielsen by Heide Schlüpmann and Karola Gramann, nor on filmportal.de. Juenger remarked there was only a film with the title Die Rache der Spionin (1921), but the director was Richard Eicherg and Nielsen lacked.

I therefore contacted Asta Nielsen expert Heide Schlüpmann, who kindly told me despite her thorough research she never found a film with Nielsen called either Mata Hari or Die Spionin. It just seemed that all the above mentioned authors had just copied each other without bothering to check any original sources." Read on at Ivo Blom's blog.


French postcard by Europe, no. 20. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


French postcard by Europe, no. 391. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Ramon Novarro as Lt. Alexis Rosanoff in Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


Dutch postcard, no. 300. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer / Clarence Sinclair Bull. Publicity still for Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931) with Greta Garbo and Ramon Novarro.

Thanks Ivo, for the permission to copy-cat your posts!

The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927)

We're so sad that we can't be in Italy to join Le Giornate del Cinema Muto in Pordenone this year. The 36th edition starts today and continues till 7 October. EFSP will do a festival post every day on one of the silent stars or the films than can be seen in Pordenone. We wish director Jay Weissberg good luck on his second edition which has a really delightful programme. Our series starts with a post on the closing event of the festival, Ernst Lubitsch's classic The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927), featuring Ramón Novarro.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/1. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/2. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) with Ramon Novarro and Jean Hersholt.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/3. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/6. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) with Ramon Novarro and Norma Shearer.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/7. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) with Ramon Novarro and Norma Shearer.

A Viennese fairy tale

The American silent film The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927), also known as The Student Prince, The Student Prince of Old Heidelberg and Old Heidelberg, is a Viennese fairy tale. The Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production is based on the 1901 play Alt Heidelberg (Old Heidelberg) by Wilhelm Meyer-Förster. The script was written by Hanns Kräly and Karl Heinrich with titles by Marian Ainslee and Ruth Cummings.

MGM's executive producer Irving Thalberg initially planned to have Erich von Stroheim direct this film as a follow-up to the director's commercial success The Merry Widow. Stroheim declined, opting instead to leave MGM and begin work on The Wedding March (1928). Thalberg then tried to attach E.A. Dupont, and then John S. Robertson to the project, but both passed on it. He settled on thirty-four-year-old German émigré Ernst Lubitsch.

Wikipedia serves up the plot in detail: Young Crown Prince Karl Heinrich (Philippe De Lacy), heir to the kingdom of Karlsburg, is brought to live with his stern uncle, King Karl VII (Gustav von Seyffertitz). The king immediately dismisses the boy's nanny (Edythe Chapman) without telling the youngster to avoid an emotional farewell. Fortunately, Dr. Friedrich Jüttner (Jean Hersholt), his new tutor, proves to be sympathetic, and they become lifelong friends. Nonetheless, despite the commoners' belief that it must be wonderful to be him, the boy grows up lonely, without playmates his own age.

Upon passing his high school examination in 1901 with the help of Dr. Jüttner, the young prince (Ramon Novarro) is delighted to learn that both he and Jüttner are being sent to Heidelberg, where he will continue his education. When they arrive, Karl's servant is appalled at the rooms provided for the prince and Jüttner at the inn of Ruder (Otis Harlan). When Ruder's niece Kathi (Norma Shearer) stoutly defends the centuries-old family business, Karl is entranced by her, and decides to stay. He is quickly made a member of Corps Saxonia, a student society.

Later that day, Karl tries to kiss Kathi, only to learn that she is engaged. Her family approves of her fiance, but she is not so sure about him. She eventually confesses to Karl that, despite the vast social gulf between them, she has fallen in love with him. Karl feels the same about her and swears that he will let nothing separate them. When he takes her boating, their rower, Johann Kellermann (Bobby Mack), turns his back to them to give them some privacy. Karl jokingly tells him that, when he is king, he will make Kellermann his majordomo.

Then Jüttner receives a letter from the king ordering him to inform Karl that he has selected a princess for him to marry. Jüttner cannot bring himself to destroy his friend's happiness. That same day, however, Prime Minister von Haugk (Edward Connelly) arrives with the news that the king is seriously ill, and that Karl must go home and take up the reins of government. When Karl sees his uncle, he is told of the matrimonial plans. While Karl is still reeling from the shock, the old king dies, followed by Jüttner.

Later, von Haugk presses the new monarch about the marriage. The anguished Karl signs the document for the wedding. Then Kellermann shows up to take the job Karl had offered him. When Karl asks him about Kathi, he learns that she is still waiting for him. He goes to see her one last time. In the last scene, Karl is shown riding through the streets in a carriage with his bride, the princess. One onlooker remarks that it must be wonderful to be king, unaware of Karl's misery.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/9. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/10. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) with Ramon Novarro and Norma Shearer.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/11. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) with Ramon Novarro and Bobby Mack.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/12. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927).

A scintillating example of the artistry of Ernst Lubitsch

Ramon Novarro was cast as the Student Prince after John Gilbert was considered. Ernst Lubitsch felt that both Novarro and Shearer were miscast, but was unable to override the studio's casting decisions. According to Wikipedia, Lubitsch's insistence on multiple takes and minimal rehearsal time were hard on both leads. Shearer even complained to Thalberg, her fiance, about Lubitsch's penchant for acting out scenes for the actors before they were shot. Thalberg told her that "everyone has a lot to learn from Lubitsch."

The love scene in the beer garden, which is acclaimed as one of the best scenes in the film by modern critics, was allegedly a headache for the director, who had it reshot entirely, but was still unhappy with it. It was rumoured that the love scene in the film was reshot by John M. Stahl, but Lubitsch's assistant on the film, Andrew Marton, denied this.

The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg was in production for more than 108 days. The result is a supremely artificial and studio-built film, contrasting the voluminous sets of the Karlsburg Palace with the warmer interiors and exteriors of the Heidelberg taverns and beer gardens. Ernst Lubitsch drove up the budget significantly, infuriating the studio. For instance, he had costume designer Ali Hubert bring thirty-two trunks of wardrobe and props from Europe for use in the film.

Though now considered a classic, it was far from a unanimous critical success during its original theatrical run. In a review for The New York Times, Mordaunt Hall wrote, "Mr. Novarro is natural and earnest, but he is a little too Latin in appearance for the rôle. Norma Shearer is attractive as Kathi. She, however, does not seem to put her soul into the part. She, too, acts well, but, like Mr. Novarro, she does not respond, as other players have done, to Mr. Lubitsch's direction. The ablest acting in this piece of work is done by Jean Hersholt as Dr. Guttner (sic) and Gustav von Seyffertitz as the King. Their efforts in all their scenes reveal their sensitiveness to the direction."

Despite being a popular film with filmgoers, the exorbitant production cost of The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (IMDb estimates it as $1.205.000) kept it from making a profit. The film lost $307,000, according to Wikipedia.

Today many viewers consider it one of Lubitsch's finest silent films. Adrian Banks at Senses of Cinema: "The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg is one of Lubitsch’s most surprising, nostalgic and emotionally engaging films. It represents a 'return to Germany' after four years in Hollywood, and can be seen as something of a watershed between his initial works for Warner Bros., then a significantly less important studio than it would soon become, and his extraordinary ten or so year tenure at Paramount."

Greg Carleton at IMDb: "I found this film an absolute delight. All of the leads put in outstanding performances. The romance between Prince Karl (Ramon Novarro) and Kathi (Norma Shearer) is wonderfully presented, and it is truly poignant." Ron Oliver at IMDb: "This wonderful, exuberant, heartbreaking film - one of the last major movies of the Silent Era - is a scintillating example of the artistry of director Ernst Lubitsch. Filled with wry humor & aching pathos, Lubitsch tells a tale which is a persuasive paean to the power of the talkless film." We totally agree.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 3608/1, 1928-1929. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Novarro wears the outfit of The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) at the end of the film (though it may have been recycled for a later film, as the Ross number suggests).



Trailer The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927). Source: TV Movie Trailer (Daily Motion).

Sources: Adrian Banks (Senses of Cinema), Greg Carleton (IMDb), Ron Oliver (IMDb), Wikipedia and IMDb.

Imported from the USA: Ramon Novarro

Mexican-American actor Ramon Novarro (1899-1968) was promoted as 'The Latin Lover' and became one of the top box office attractions of the 1920s and early 1930s. In 1925 he appeared in his most famous role, as the title character in Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (Fred Niblo, 1925). He later co-starred with Norma Shearer in The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927) and with Greta Garbo in Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931). Novarro also worked in the European cinema. In 1968 he was murdered by two young hustlers.


Italian postcard by Ed. Vettori, Bologna, no. 932. Ramon Novarro holding a sketch for the period piece Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923), in which Novarro had the title role. The film, produced by Metro Pictures, was based on a novel by Rafael Sabatini, and co-starred Alice Terry and Lewis Stone.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 1486/2, 1927-1928. Photo: MGM / ParUfaMet.


Austrian postcard by Iris-Verlag, no. 753/2. Photo: Fanamet-Film.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 3250/4, 1928-1929. Photo: MGM.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 4907/3/4, 1929-1930. Photo: MGM.

The New Valentino

Ramon Novarro was born as Jose Ramón Gil Samaniego in 1899 in Durango, Mexico. His parents were Leonor (Gavilan) and Dr. Mariano N. Samaniego Siqueiros, a prosperous dentist. Ramon and his family moved to Los Angeles in 1913, as refugees from the Mexican Revolution. He was a second cousin of the Mexican film star Dolores del Rio.

The family's wealth having been left behind, young Novarro took on a number of odd jobs, ranging from ballet dancer, piano teacher and singing waiter. In 1917, he became a film extra. Ramon worked as an extra until director Rex Ingram cast him as the lovable scoundrel Rupert of Hentzau in The Prisoner of Zenda (1922) with Lewis Stone and Alice Terry. Ramon scored an immediate hit. He was billed as Ramon Samaniegos and Terry suggested that he would change his name to Novarro. And so he did.

Ramon Novarro worked with Ingram in his next four films. Ingram again teamed him with Terry and Stone in the successful costume adventure Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923). Novarro played a law student who becomes an outlaw French revolutionary when he decides to avenge the unjust killing of his friend. Ron Oliver at IMDb: "Novarro, taking the hero role this time, proved he was no flash in the pan. Equally adept as sensitive lover or dueling revolutionary, with this performance Novarro was catapulted to Hollywood's upper ranks."

Novarro's rising popularity among female moviegoers resulted in his being billed as the 'New Valentino' and as 'The Latin Lover'. In 1925 he appeared in his most famous role, as Judah Ben-Hur in Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (Fred Niblo, 1925). At IMDb, John Nicolaus reviews: "I found Roman Navarro far more likable in the title role than Charlton Heston. Like with most silent films, Navarro is a bit over the top, but he's still portrayed as honest and kind, yet proud figure. He also has a very kind face, which helps the audience 'fall' for this guy."

With Valentino's death in 1926, Novarro became the screen's leading Latin actor. He co-starred with Norma Shearer in The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927). Lubitsch made an enjoyable Viennese fairy tale in which Novarro played a cloistered, overprotected Austrian prince who falls in love with a down-to-earth barmaid (Shearer).

Ron Oliver at IMDb: "This wonderful, exuberant, heartbreaking film - one of the last major movies of the Silent Era - is a scintillating example of the artistry of director Ernst Lubitsch. Filled with wry humor & aching pathos, Lubitsch tells a tale which is a persuasive paean to the power of the talkless film. Ramon Novarro, always eager to please his audience, brings great charm to the title role. Although about 10 years too old to be playing a typical university freshman, he nonetheless brings tremendous enthusiasm to the role."


Italian postcard by Ed. Vettori, Bologna. Photo: Ramon Novarro in the period piece Scaramouche (Rex Ingram, 1923).


Austrian postcard by Iris Verlag, no. 715/6. Photo: FaNaMet. Publicity still for Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (Fred Niblo, 1925).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 1722/1, 1927-1928. Photo: Arthur Ziehm, Berlin. Novarro is dressed in the attire of his film A Lover's Oath (Ferdinand P. Earle, 1925), based on Edward Fitzgerald's The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, the Astronomer-Poet of Persia. From this film only a short clip remains.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 98/9. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Student Prince of Old Heidelberg (Ernst Lubitsch, 1927).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 3774/2, 1928-1929. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for A Certain Young Man (Hobart Henley, 1928) with Marceline Day.


German postcard by Ross-Verlag, no. 4130/2, 1929-1930. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for Forbidden Hours (Harry Beaumont, 1928).


German postcard by Ross Verlag, Berlin, no. 4908/1, 1929-1930. Photo: MGM. Publicity still for Devil-May-Care (Sidney Franklin, 1929).

Savagely beaten by two young hustlers

At the peak of his success in the late 1920s and early 1930s, Ramon Novarro was earning more than US$100,000 per film. His first talking picture was Call of the Flesh (Charles Brabin, 1930), where he sang and danced the tango. He continued to appear in musicals, but his popularity was slipping. MGM insisted on giving their Mexican star a wide range of ethnic parts, everything from a carefree South Seas native in The Pagan (W.S. Van Dyke, 1929) to a wealthy Indian jewel merchant in Son of India (Jacques Feyder, 1931).

He was not given many topnotch assignments, but he did star with Greta Garbo in the Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931), a semi-fictionalized account of the life of the exotic dancer who was accused of spying for Germany during World War I. She falls in love for the first and only time in her life when she meets dazzlingly handsome lieutenant Ramon Novarro. Ron Oliver at IMDb: "Ramon Novarro, who receives co-equal billing with Garbo, had been an important movie celebrity far longer than she, but her rising sun tended to obscure most other stars in her orbit and Novarro has to work hard to get much notice in their joint scenes. As always, MGM's chameleon actor (this time he plays a Russian) gives a very competent performance, but as a romantic pair they make a rather unusual couple - which simply means that Novarro's sexual ambiguity is perfectly mirrored by Garbo's intrinsic androgyny."

Mata Hari was a success, but soon Novarro's career began to fade fast. In 1935 he left MGM and appeared on Broadway in a show that quickly flopped. Though wealthy enough not to need work, Novarro was restless when not before the cameras. His later career, consisted mostly of cameos. In Europe he was still popular. In France he starred in La comédie du bonheur/Comedy of Happiness (Marcel L'Herbier, 1940) opposite Michel Simon. He also appeared in the Italian version, Ecco la felicità (Marcel L'Herbier, 1940). In Mexico, he starred in La virgen que forjó una patria/The Saint That Forged a Country (Julio Bracho, 1942).

After the war, Novarro returned to Hollywood as a supporting actor and appeared in such films as We Were Strangers (John Huston, 1949) and the Film Noir The Big Steal (Don Siegel, 1949), starring Robert Mitchum. His last film was Heller in Pink Tights (George Cukor, 1960) with Sophia Loren. Later he guest-starred in TV series such as Rawhide (1964), Bonanza (1965) and The High Chaparral (1968).

Ramon Novarro was troubled all his life by his conflicted feelings toward his Roman Catholic religion and his homosexuality. His life-long struggle with alcoholism is often traced to these issues. He was romantically involved with journalist Herbert Howe, who was also his publicist in the late 1920s. In 1968, Novarro was savagely beaten in his North Hollywood home by two young hustlers, the brothers Paul and Tom Ferguson, aged 22 and 17. They had heard - in error - that a large sum of money was locked away somewhere in his home. They never found any money, and Novarro was discovered dead the next day by his servant. Novarro died as a result of asphyxiation—having choked to death on his own blood after being beaten. He was less than four months away from what would have been his 70th birthday.


British postcard in the Picturegoer Series, London, no. 58b.


British postcard in the Picturegoer Series, London, no. 93. Sent by mail in 1931.


Dutch postcard, no. 300. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Ramon Novarro and Greta Garbo in Mata Hari (George Fitzmaurice, 1931).


Dutch postcard, no. 499. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Publicity still for The Barbarian (Sam Wood, 1933) with Myrna Loy.


German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 6231/1, 1931-1932. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.


Dutch postcard, no. 29.


French postcard by Europe, no. 936. Sent by mail in the Netherlands in 1932. Photo: MGM.

Source: Hal Erickson (AllMovie), Tony Fontana (IMDb), TCM, Wikipedia and IMDb.