John Gilbert

Produced for Britain's Thames television in 1979, Hollywood is a 13-part overview of the silent film era, lovingly assembled by historian Kevin Brownlow and David Gill. Each episode runs one hour, and each concentrates on a separate aspect of the art of the silent cinema. Chapter titles include "The Pioneers," "Single Beds and Double Standards," "Swanson and Valentino" and "Comedy: A Serious Business." In addition to interviews from such silent-movie veterans as Lillian Gish, Allan Dwan, Viola Dana, William Wellman, Karl Brown, Colleen Moore, King Vidor and Blanche Sweet, each episode of Hollywood is distinguished by rare, lengthy filmclips, many in pristine condition. The symphonic background music by Carl Davis superbly evokes the 1910s and 1920s without ever stooping to tinkly-piano cliches. The release of Hollywood was accompanied by the publication of a coffee-table book, also the handiwork of Brownlow and Gill. In 1988, a feature-length version of Hollywood was made available for syndication. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The Movies March On was Number 12, volume 9 of Louis de Rochemont's March of Time series. Narrated by the stentorian Westbrook Van Vorhees, this fascinating documentary manages to squeeze 40 years of filmmaking into a mere two reels. Beginning with the once scandalous The Kiss (1898), the film jumps ahead to one of the first "story" films, Edison's The Great Train Robbery (1903, directed by Edwin S. Porter). Next is offered a cross-section of the great D. W. Griffith's Biograph films followed by snippets of such past luminaries as Mary Pickford, William S. Hart, Charlie Chaplin, Theda Bara, Greta Garbo and John Gilbert. In 1927, The Jazz Singer ushers in the talkie era, which is represented by snippets from films as diverse as All Quiet on the Western Front and the Mickey Mouse vehicle Steamboat Willie. After a round-up of recent cinematic achievements, Van Vorhees signs off with his customary "Time?.MARCHES ON!" Though undeniably superficial, The Movies March On at least never adopts a condescending tone when reviewing the silent era, which sets it apart from most summaries of its kind. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

If Queen Christina is not the best of Greta Garbo's films (as many Garbo fanatics insist), it is certainly the most luxuriously romantic of her talkie features. The star is cast as 17th-century Swedish queen Christina, who feels that she can best function in a male-dominated world by adopting men's clothes and attitudes (this cross-dressing element adds a subliminally gay subtext which curiously makes the subsequent events all the more poignant). Fiercely devoted to her country and the welfare of her people, Christina has long since abandoned all thoughts of pursuing any kind of a romance -- but changes her mind when she meets and falls in love with Spanish envoy Antonio (John Gilbert). After an idyllic night together, Christina and Antonio are compelled to part, but the Queen vows then and there to relinquish her throne in favor of marriage to the envoy. Alas, the complex political machinations between their two countries permanently separate the two lovers, leaving Christina more alone in the world than ever. The chemistry between Garbo and Gilbert -- who as the whole world knew in 1933 had once been real-life lovers -- is positively mesmerizing, especially in the classic scene wherein Christina, after consummating their passion, walks dreamily around their room, touching and memorizing every detail (so persuasive is her pantomime in this scene that her last-minute explanation as to what she is doing is not only unnecessary, but downright jarring). Equally unforgettable is the final shot of Garbo staring enigmatically past the camera, allowing the viewer to "fill in" her thoughts (director Rouben Mamoulian always claimed that he ordered Garbo to think about "absolutely nothing," but one wonders). While some of Garbo's earliest talkies tend to creak a bit, Queen Christina is as fascinating today as it was nearly seven decades ago, and will undoubtedly continue to remain just as fascinating for the next seven decades. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Anyone who believes that the career of silent screen idol John Gilbert ended because his voice has too high for the talkies hasn't seen this marvelously black comedy. In perhaps his best performance of the sound era (with his supporting role in 1934's The Captain Hates the Sea running a close second), Gilbert plays a rogue who can get away with just about anything because of his charisma and charm -- and his voice suits his character perfectly. Karl (Gilbert) is a chauffeur who goes to work for a Viennese Baron and Baroness (Reginald Owen) and Olga Baclanova) on the day that two of their servants -- head butler Albert (Paul Lukas) and maid Anna (an astonishingly lovely Virginia Bruce) -- are being wed. Almost immediately Karl creates havoc in the household -- he flirts with the innocent, susceptible Anna, blackmails the Baroness, who is having an affair, and seduces the middle-aged head cook, Sophie (Bodil Rosing), only so he can get his hands on her life savings. In spite of his wickedness, there is something magnetic about Karl, and Anna -- who is vaguely dissatisfied with her loving but dogmatic husband -- finally succumbs. But all of his schemes inevitably backfire on him and after Albert gets Sophie's money back, he gladly tosses Karl out of the Baron's mansion. The next we see of him, he is c harming his way into yet another chauffeur position (hinting at a potential sequel that, unfortunately, never came). Gilbert, who wrote the story four years earlier, originally had an appropriately macabre ending -- after a brutal fight, Albert drowns Karl in a vat of wine. When he first came up with the idea, Gilbert had wanted Erich Von Stroheim to direct. By 1932, this was out of the question (MGM mogul Louis B. Mayer had little use for Stroheim). Instead, the highly capable Monta Bell was given the job -sadly, it was one his last directing assignments. During the shoot, Gilbert and Virginia Bruce fell in love and they were married in August, 1932, the month that the film was released. ~ Janiss Garza, All Movie Guide

In this melodrama, a magician finds himself accused of murdering his lover's father. He flees and the lover marries her other boyfriend--the real killer. When her husband dies, the magician gets plastic surgery until he resembles the killer and assumes his former position as husband to the girl. He then begins gathering the necessary evidence to clear his name. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

In his second talkie, former silent screen lover John Gilbert plays Jack, a sailor in the merchant marine who takes time out from carousing with pals Tripod (Wallace Beery) and Ginger (Jim Tully) to woo and marry Joan (Leila Hyams), the lovely pay clerk, whom he has promised to quit the sea for good. But "for good" lasts only through the wedding night and she leaves him. They meet again on an ocean liner where Jack is working as the quartermaster but a violent storm threatens to ruin the relationship for eternity when Jack is declared lost. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

Adapted from a 1925 play by Patrick Kearney, A Man's Man was popular MGM leading man William Haines' final silent film (albeit released with a musical score and sound-effects track). Haines is his usual bright-and-breezy self as Mel, a likable soda jerk in love with would-be actress Peggy (Josephine Dunn). Her head filled with the false words of self-styled talent agent Charlie (Sam Hardy), Peggy heads to Hollywood, leaving Mel behind. Our heroine manages to break into the movies and becomes a major star, but her heart remains with down-to-earth Mel. Greta Garbo and John Gilbert make "guest appearances" via clips from their previous MGM vehicles. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Based on Olympia, a 1928 Ferenc Molnar stage soufflé, His Glorious Night has gone down in history as having more or less single-handedly caused the downfall of silent-screen matinee idol John Gilbert, whose ardent declarations of "I love you, I love you" to an overly inert Catherine Dale Owen were parodied twenty-odd years later in MGM's otherwise highly apocryphal Singing in the Rain (1952). Owen, from the Broadway stage, plays Princess Orsolini, who refuses an arranged marriage in favor of dallying with Kovacs (Gilbert), a dashing cavalry officer. But on the advice of her mother (stage luminary Nance O'Neil), the princess reluctantly informs Kovacs that she cannot love the offspring of a peasant. In revenge, the latter indulges in a bit of blackmail, but true love wins out in the end -- to the energetic strains of Franz Von Suppé's "Light Cavalry Overture". Rumors to the contrary, the problem was not with Gilbert's voice but with screenwriter Willard Mack's overly florid dialogue, which might have been fine as subtitles but sounded downright embarrassing to audiences when spoken by a cast suffering from the stilted direction of a microphone-conscious Lionel Barrymore. His Glorious Night was rather more successful in three foreign-language versions: Olimpia featuring Maria Alba and José Crespo, Olympia with Nora Gregor and Theo Schall, and Si L'empereur Savait Ça featuring Françoise Rosay and André Luguet. The story was remade by director Michael Curtiz in 1960 as A Breath of Scandal starring Sophia Loren and John Gavin. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

Based on a Leo Tolstoy novel, The Cossacks centers around Lukashka (John Gilbert), a young Russian man who has no interest in fighting, unlike the other Cossacks around him. Because of his cheery, peaceful ways, he is ridiculed by the others of his village, even though he is the son of Ivan the Ataman (Ernest Torrence), who is the toughest man there. Finally, even Lukashka's ladylove, Maryana (Renee Adoree), believes him a coward. The people of the village dress him up in an apron and throw grapes at him, and this causes him to snap. Lukashka becomes a fierce fighter, killing any Turks that come his way. Meanwhile, the Czar's messenger, Prince Olenin (Neil Neely) comes to town and decides to take Maryana for his own. But when he makes his way back to the capital with the girl, Lukashka kidnaps her. As for the Prince, he is killed by a pack of Turks. Although the set design and photography for this film were well-done, other aspects miss. George Hill directed most of the picture but Clarence Brown was brought in at the finish to clean it up -- Brown claims the film was a mess by the time he was assigned to work on it. Many of the subtitles are poorly written and are not fair descriptions of the action. One example that is especially -- and unintentionally -- hilarious: Gilbert's character is introduced with "He does not like the smell of blood. He is a chewer of sunflower seeds." Needless to say, Gilbert was unhappy with The Cossacks. While it received, for the most part, positive reviews, hindsight shows that it subtly marked the beginning of a downward spiral for the M-G-M silent star. ~ Janiss Garza, All Movie Guide

Michael Arlen's notorious novel The Green Hat was considered such a hot potato censor-wise that the property's title could not be used when it was adapted to film. Retitled A Woman of Affairs, this tale of a woman destroyed by syphilis was heavily laundered for the screen. Greta Garbo plays an impulsive British lass who, when denied permission to marry John Gilbert, hops from bed to bed with various partners. She marries a man who turns out to be a thief. When her husband commits suicide, Garbo is again wooed by Gilbert, who in the meantime has acquired a spouse of his own. Though she passionately loves Gilbert, Garbo sends him away, rather than ruin his life as she's ruined her own. With that classic enigmatic half-smile on her face, Garbo suicidally crashes her expensive automobile into the tree under which she sat with Gilbert the day he first declared his love for her. Outside of the always fascinating Greta Garbo, the best performance in Woman of Affairs is offered by Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as Garbo's drunken, dissipated younger brother. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

John Gilbert was one of MGM's top stars when he appeared this melodrama. Playing against his usual matinee idol type, Gilbert plays a tough and restless wanderer. Jerry Fay (Gilbert) and Red McCue (Ernest Torrence) are fierce but not unfriendly rivals who run into each other in various ports. They meet up once again in New York to discover that they have both become bootleggers. Fay has just loaded up his speedboat with rum when he is pursued by the coast guard. He hides out in a home on the seashore, and Jane, the girl living there (Joan Crawford), threatens to call the cops. To prevent her from turning him in, Fay kidnaps her and takes her to his ship. McCue and his men, disguised as revenuers, hijack Fay's boat, and the two men find themselves face to face once again. A drinking contest between the two of them turns into a vicious battle. Fay recaptures the boat and turns it in to save Jane. Jane, who has fallen in love with the wounded Fay, cradles him in her arms. Crawford, whose star was still very much on the ascendant, would appear with Gilbert again in 1928's Four Walls. ~ Janiss Garza, All Movie Guide

John Gilbert was fond of a narrative poem called The Widow in the Bye Street by John Masefield and wanted to film it, but when he approached his boss, Louis B. Mayer, with the idea, it sparked a huge argument. Gilbert was determined, however, and Man, Woman and Sin is basically a disguised Americanized version of the poem, which he plotted out with director and friend Monta Bell. Gilbert plays Albert Whitcomb, who is devoted to his mother (Gladys Brockwell). He lands a job as a cub reporter at a newspaper and becomes romantically entangled with the society editor, Vera Worth (Jeanne Eagels). Whitcomb does not realize that she is the mistress of the paper's owner, Bancroft (Marc MacDermott). When Bancroft discovers Albert and Vera together in the apartment on which he's been paying the rent, a fight breaks out, and Albert kills Bancroft in self-defense. Vera, to save her reputation, lets Albert hang, and he is convicted of murder. Finally, out of guilt, she admits she was lying, and Albert's mother is able to get her son off with the new evidence. Although some claim this was Jeanne Eagels' film debut, it was not -- she had made a couple of films a decade earlier. She was riding on the crest of fame when this film came out, though -- her portrayal of Sadie Thompson in the stage presentation of Rain had won her renown. In spite of Gilbert's enthusiasm for this project, it was not particularly well-received; perhaps this was partly because Love, in which he was starred with Greta Garbo, had come out a few weeks earlier and that was bound to eclipse the release of Man, Woman and Sin. ~ Janiss Garza, All Movie Guide

A bulky, verbose novel by Herman Suderman was the source for the exquisitely silent Flesh and the Devil. On leave from the Austrian army, lifelong friends John Gilbert and Lars Hanson return to their loving families. At a reception in Hanson's honor, Gilbert makes the acquaintance of the hauntingly beautiful Greta Garbo, whom he'd previously glimpsed for a few fleeting seconds at the railway depot. Those few seconds were enough to thoroughly captivate Gilbert, thus paving the way for a feverish sexual liaison with Garbo. Gilbert is shocked to discover that Garbo is married to aristocrat Marc MacDermott, who challenges Gilbert to a duel--on the proviso that the "official" reason for their argument is a disagreement at cards, so that McDermott will suffer no disgrace. Gilbert kills the husband on the field of honor; as punishment for his unmilitary conduct, he is "invited" to accept a post in Africa. Honoring his promise to the late McDermott, Gilbert reveals his love of Garbo to no one, not even his dearest friend Hanson. As he departs for his five-year exile, Gilbert asks Hanson to look after the "bereaved" Garbo. Pardoned after three years, Gilbert returns home, only to discover that Garbo has remarried--to Hanson. Minister George Fawcett, evidently the only person to know of Gilbert's tryst with Garbo, advises Gilbert to give up his friendship with Hanson so as to avoid the temptation of cuckolding his best friend. But when Hanson falls seriously ill, Garbo begs Gilbert to renew the friendship. He does so, not suspecting that Garbo merely wants to trap him in her web again. Gilbert is caught in a compromising position by the distraught Hanson; he regretfully challenges Gilbert to a duel, to be fought on their favorite childhood playing site, "The Island of Friendship". As Hanson nervously aims his weapon at the repentant, unresisting Gilbert, he realizes that he can't go through with the duel. The two friends embrace, begging one another's forgiveness...while Garbo, who has belatedly headed across the frozen lake to prevent the duel, comes to an icy end. While the overly intense "male bonding" between John Gilbert and Lars Hanson tends to evoke knowing chuckles when seen today, Flesh and the Devil otherwise holds up quite well. Clarence Brown's innovative directorial touches still seem fresh after years of imitation by lesser talents. Ostensibly a John Gilbert vehicle (he receives sole over-the-title billing), Flesh is utterly dominated through sheer force of personality by the divine Garbo; in anyone else's hands, her enigmatic, impulse-driven temptress would have been just another cardboard vixen. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide