Applause

Both in the theater and in movies, Rouben Mamoulian seems to have been present at the birth of several revolutions (talkies, the integrated stage musical, the populist opera "Porgy and Bess"); why isn't he revered as, say, Welles or Ford? This early talkie boasts remarkable use of camera and sound, interesting location shooting (though nominally made at Parmount's Astoria Studios, there is plenty of footage of 1929 New York), a hokey but touching mother-love story, much pre-Code sexual frankness, and Helen Morgan's finest hour on film. Consider it a companion piece to "Gypsy," and all the grittier for being made during the actual years of the waning of burlesque; in both movies, the mother forces the daughter into a tawdry stage career, but here the outcome is strikingly different. A fascinating curio for all the cinematic techniques that Mamoulian invented or perfected, and a most affecting melodrama in its own right.

I first half-watched this film on DVD while I was surfing the internet, never thinking it would be that good. Wrong. The next night I watched it again, no distractions. Helen Morgan drew me in with her soulful acting, Mamoulian had the camera man sweep in and out to highlight certain scenes and it just kept pulling me in. I watch a lot of film, mostly early film and this drama ranks up there with the best Mother-Daughter tragedies in the STELLA DALLAS style. But it is an original that has only been poorly copied since. I recommend you give this film your time and you too will be touched and amazed at the power of a very early talky. Like two other great films from 1929, LOVE PARADE & COCONUTS prove, some early sounds films are great not only standing the test of time… but they are great films for ALL TIME!

One of the greatest of the early talkies Applause was also the debut feature of Rouben Mamoulian, whose later successes include the celebrated Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde (1931) starring Frederic March, one of Garbo's finest vehicles Queen Christina (1933), as well as the groundbreaking Technicolor production Becky Sharp (1935). Lured into cinema after great success in theatre, like Welles later on Mamoulian found out how to make films in a crash course partly of his own devising: by absorbing the process at studios in New York, resolutely watching the work of others until he "learned what not to do." Hired ostensibly as a stage expert on dialogue to help make the most of the new sound medium, Mamoulian, again like the future Welles, quickly proved himself an all-round innovator, looking at production with fresh eyes with an ability to reinvent aspects of cinema as he found them. "All I could think of was the marvellous things one could do with the camera and the exciting new potentials of sound recording," he said.

Applause was the result - a film which still astonishes us today, let alone those who saw it for the first time 80 years ago when sound had made considerable attack on the creative freedom previously taken for granted by silent films.

Mamoulian's choice of subject matter for his first feature initially seemed to promise little that was striking: a somewhat hoary old novel about a fading burlesque queen sacrificing herself for her daughter, which promised much melodramatic moralising. But the fledgling director was to prove not so much interested in the story as in the way he could find of telling it, invigorating the material.

Mamoulian's practical experience of film-making was gained largely by sitting on the sidelines at Paramount's New York studios. His theoretical inspiration may one suspects, but cannot prove, have been inspired elsewhere: notably the expressive use of fluid cinematography shown in Murnau's great American opus Sunrise, made and released to huge industry interest just a few short years before. Indeed, Mamoulian was later to use the great German's director of photography when he later came to make Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde. In Applause we find moments of expressionism mingled with lyricism with which the German would find himself at home. Like Murnau, Mamoulian too set out to tell his story primarily through the movement of his camera, adding to this some striking location work. The earlier director was not constrained by the mechanics of soundtrack; where Mamoulian took a step forward was in the way he insisted that few of the limitations of the new format since then were necessary, a fact shown by the fact many of his experiments in Applause have become common film language.

This approach becomes apparent right from the opening scene, where the thought is more more in terms of travel than of sound: first a few shots of a closed shop front, then a track along a newspaper-blown street. A small dog is rescued from the litter by a girl, before a brass band introduces her and us to the arrival of the burlesque queen, Kitty Darling (Helen Morgan), and her progress in an open carriage. The film cuts to inside her theatre, tracks steadily past musicians in the pit, pans back and forth over the dancing bodies on stage before finally resting on the tired faces of the chorus girls. Mamoulian's concern with the "delight of movement" as he put it, is everywhere. Such concerns brought technical considerations for the sound men that were at first considered impossible. One later scene in particular brought on a significant crisis, where Kitty sings a burlesque song to her daughter by way of lullaby as the child simultaneously whispers her prayers (this in a long single take). The primitive microphone picked up one and not the other, so the director suggested using two mics, and mixing it together later. From such guileless innovations are revolutions made; after some strenuous initial doubts, the studio heads gave Mamoulian carte blanche to continue the film just as he sought fit.

Applause is one of those movies where virtually every scene demands attention for the interested viewer, either by virtue of Mamoulian's skill or, in the case of Helen Morgan, through an especially moving performance. The director had filled his cast with those who were as new to the medium of film as he was. Some, like Fuller Mellish, playing the city slicker, as well as Jack Cameron (Kitty's predacious beau) overplay slightly in that 1930s wiseacre fashion distracting to modern taste - one of the film's few weaknesses - but Morgan's pathetic dignity more than compensates for this and edges the melodrama onward into tragedy. Even the doomed, blossoming romance between Kitty's daughter April (Joan Peters) and her sailor, although somewhat hackneyed in expression, becomes acceptable in the hands of such a sensitive director who to their scenes together, as critic Tom Milne noted, "brings a simple lyricism which is neither faux nor naïf". A particularly fine moment is provided by the lovers' subway platform farewell shot, again in long take. The two have been forced apart by ironic circumstance but he does not know why. April's lover has little say in his despondency but, almost absent-mindedly, buys and pushes a cheap packet of gum from a machine into her hand as a leaving present. Another director would have made this pathetic action trite; Mamoulian makes it say everything there is to say about a closing relationship between two people, where something so slight can be so precious.

It would have been too easy to produce a first work that showed off for its own account. But Applause remains so compulsive because it succeeds both as an empathetic story of people and as a technical tour-de-force, without one overbalancing the other. It is also exhilarating as it shows how imagination and creative determination liberated film even at this early stage, from self-imposed limitations.

WOW what a terrific film..... 27-year-old Helen Morgan is superb as the frowzy Kitty Darling, the burlesque queen who sends her daughter away to convent school only to have her fall into the clutches of her villainous lover.

Rouben Mamoulian does a spectacular job directing this VERY early all-talkie. Amazing camera angles and lighting, silhouettes, overlapping dialog, songs, music.... he completely captures the sleazy stage world on stage and off.

The film is a pleasure from the very opening with the playbill blowing across the street to Kitty's tragic ending and then ironic kiss between the lovers in front of her poster.

Joan Peers is very good as the daughter, Henry Wadsworth is also good as the young sailor, and Fuller Mellish Jr. is one rotten villain.

The DVD came with "extras" (which I usually never watch) that gave great background material on Helen Morgan, the censorship of the film, and the search for 200-lb former burlesque queens to "round out" the "Beef Trust." But Helen Morgan is just great.... she has all the pathos of Julie from SHOW BOAT (she starred in the original Broadway production) with a twinge of Shelley Winters.... Great performance!

I know of two films that, comparatively speaking always, rival Kane (before Kane) in their bevy of diverse film technique, both French. Now a third one and the first in sound. Similar to Welles, Mamoulian started out in the theater and moved to film, and like him, an innovator, loved the camera, visual space and movement, and fought with studios on and off throughout his uneven career.

No comparison really. Welles was a narrative mastermind next to his other qualities as a showman. Still, an interesting guy I will be seeing more from—already have Love Me Tonight, a light operetta in the Lubitsch mode.

The plot here is shameless melodrama, a burlesque mother is made by her abusive boyfriend to pull her daughter from boarding school and into the show biz to start making money. The boyfriend is the kind of lecherous villain that audiences back when they thought the actor was his character, would probably boo his every on-screen appearance. In the silent format, the effect would have been somewhat mitigated by the presence of intertitles, and not being able to hear the constant sobs and wails of pathetic anguish of the mother—theatrical voicing on top of theatrical acting.

But no matter. Watch a few films of the era and get back to this, start with The Jazz Singer.

It's a breath of fresh air. The staging is fluid; the places some of them real, explored with a youthful, modern gaze; the camera expressive, cultivating visual space as of equal importance to the story than as simple conveyance for it. I would describe it, relative to its time, as New Wave—think of Breathless by contrast to a late 50's run-of-the-mill crime flick.

The scene of two youthful lovers staring out to sea on top of I think the Empire State Building takes the breath away. Or the two of them wandering by sunup to Brooklyn Bridge—simple poetry, a pan from wrought iron framework to simmering horizon, still modern.

Ultimately, it exhilarates. You dwell long enough in the stringent melodrama and overall depressing feel of the burlesque world, so these free flows, when they come, sweep you out to sea and floating freedom.

It's a smart bit of dynamics. You venture past the limits of the adult stage with these youth (she a dancer, he a sailor), it's got to be you. When they part in the subway, and she looks with a kind of dumb amazement at the pieces of gum in her palm, it's a heartbreaking moment.

Well, it wasn't going to fly. It opened with three weeks to go for Black Tuesday.