Up the Ladder

While not all are equal, there's nevertheless a tireless charm to many silent films. For lack of sound or verbal dialogue the visual experience is necessarily emphasized and heightened, including not just actors' performances but also our perception of the production design, art direction, and costume design. Sometimes it feels like we're able to appreciate such aspects all the more when our eyes aren't distracted by our ears - an appreciation made all the more delightful by the relative simplicity of the entertainment that is afforded. Whether a reflection of degraded or incomplete prints, insufficient equipment, old-fashioned film-making techniques, or other possible factors, there's often a brusque directness that characterizes much of the silent era, as well as curt editing; scenes and stories are light and fluffy no small amount of the time, owing to very different social values but also to the demands of film censors. And so on, and so on: in some measure watching pictures from the earliest years of cinema means stepping into another world just as much as if we're watching high fantasy.

Themes and story ideas that even now continue to be relevant to real life are nonetheless given an almost otherworldly air to them as the drama is softer, the humor is more airy, and the fundamental presentation is in one way or another more stripped down compared to what modern viewers are accustomed to. Yet all these words are still but pretense to delineate the nature of the feature. 'Up the ladder' can most assuredly be described in many (though not all) such terms, but stopping to consider it in and of itself, it remains solidly engaging and enjoyable. Indeed, all those behind the scenes made fine contributions to establish the look and feel of every setting and character, and the title at large. The cast do a fine job of bringing their characters to life even within the limitations of the medium at the time; far be it from me to single anyone out, but star Virginia Valli makes an especially strong impression, and even in just a secondary supporting part, young Priscilla Moran adds much to the already considerable charm of the production.

Edward Sloman demonstrates a firm grasp of the medium, exercising his role as director to ably guide the movie and realize the screenplay; shot composition plays a surprisingly important role here, and the filmmaker shows a delicate touch to accomplish it. And Tom McNamara and Grant Carpenter's adaptation of the stage play is unexpectedly vibrant, slowly baking a drama that's a little smarter and sharper than I first assumed. By all means, it's not unusual for lighthearted frivolity to transition into more serious social turmoil, yet there's a cutting intelligence here to how that shift occurs that well exceeds no few of this title's contemporaries. To that end, as sturdy as the overall narrative is, I dare say it's the tight scene writing that does the most to make 'Up the ladder' as vivid an experience as it is. Such splendid, flavorful detail goes into the revelation of secrets - a twist of finesse so important to the course of events - and this facet alone makes the movie a minor joy.

When all is said and done I won't particularly hold it against the feature that it begins so blithely; the growing tension leading to the climax is a blast, and well makes up for any prior sense of commonness. I'm more put out by the very last few minutes - the ending that is entirely too straightforward, abrupt, and easy; this feels like a conjuration of Movie Magic, or perhaps the rigors of censors who required a specific kind of resolution. Even at that, however, while this is imperfect, I can honestly say that it's better than some of its brethren. 'Up the ladder' is not so outstanding a silent drama as to make it essential; there are plenty of other titles that should be of higher priority for one exploring the era. Yet if you have the chance to watch, and are looking for a film in the upper middle in terms of quality and impact, then this a classic well deserving of recognition and viewership.

The stage play opened on Broadway at the Playhouse on 6 March 1922 and ran a fairly successful 120 performances. Doris Kenyon and Paul Kelly starred for director Lumsden Hare.

However, the plot and devices of the Owen Davis play are so far removed from those of the movie that what we have here is virtually an original rather than an adaptation.

Although Virginia Valli registers smoothly as the heroine, our hero, alas, is played by dull-as-ditchwater Forrest Stanley. Admittedly, Mr Stanley starts well, but then goes to water, allowing everyone else in the cast, including even minor players like precocious Priscilla Moran, ho-hum Holmes Herbert and woebegone William V. Mong to steal every one of his scenes.

Fortunately, the biggest scene-stealers of all are none other than that wonderful vamp of vamps, Margaret Livingston, and a man who always makes his presence felt and literally lights up the screen, George Fawcett.

In fact, the movie is well worth seeing just to catch Miss Livingston alone. Fawcett is an added pleasure and it's a pity his role was not combined with that played by Holmes Herbert. That would have been movie dynamite!

As for technical credits, they also are very deft indeed.