User reviews

Underworld (1927)

A lot of people avoid silent films at all costs, and I understand that totally. Many of these films are stiff, and the plots are either sentimental or obvious.

But there are many reasons to watch a good, or great, silent film. Sometimes the acting, whatever its expressive style, is really wonderful. Often the photography and editing is really terrific and sophisticated. And the stories can be fast, fresh, and even pertinent.

And finally, the silent films easiest for the uninitiated to approach are at the very end of the silent era. That would be 1927. See Joan Crawford in The Unknown for the bizarre, or Murnau's Sunrise for eloquence, or consider this film, the first major film by the soon to be legendary Josef von Sternberg. The only thing that might put off some people is the exaggerated expressions in one of the three main characters, Bull Weed. But go with that flow and you'll see not only some more subtle acting, but a sweet, violent, complex plot interweave in just an hour or so (81 minutes, though there is an 87 minute version out there if you can find it, Netflix doesn't have it). The Criterion disc version is really clean (another reason to consider this as an intro silent films, since it isn't broken up or scratched to death).

"Underworld" is filmed with visual complexity even though it lacks some of the virtuosic moving camera of Murnau. The sets are simple but convincing, and the shift in attention to the gangster side of the story, complete with guns and molls and the precursors (or pre-precursors) of film noir, is gripping. It's not as intense as the heyday of gangster films just four or five years later, but it has if anything more emotional sophistication. The story was written by the legendary Ben Hecht, which might explain some of its success.

Von Sternberg you say? Well, he was a master at creating aura, and between him and Dietrich a whole new level of starmaking savvy was born. This, as a first film, and as a last minute replacement, was expected to flop, and was released in a single New York theater. Word spread, however, and it became a hit. You can see why. Great stuff.

With director Josef von Sternberg, and screenwriter Ben Hecht. George Bancroft stars as Bull Weed, a big, intimidating gang boss. After former-lawyer-turned-drunken-bum Rolls-Royce (Clive Brook) witnesses Bull pulling off a bank heist, the gangster brings the drunk back to his hideout, where he takes a shine to him. Bull gives Rolls a job, cleaning him up and having him act as a butler for Bull's moll, Feathers (Evelyn Brent). But the inevitable attraction starts to form between Rolls and Feathers, and Bull is bound to find out eventually. Also featuring Fred Kohler, Helen Lynch, Larry Semon, Jerry Mandy, and Alfred Allen.

While the film looks nice and moves along at a quick pace, it lacks the stylish touches one came to expect with later von Sternberg movies. Bancroft, the first real gangster-movie star, is good as the big 'n blustery Bull, while Brook brings the right amount of dissipated class, and Brent is pretty and multi-dimensional as the kept woman. These gangsters are more a "smash-and-grab" robbery outfit than the usual bootleggers. The movie also ends on what seems a false, anticlimactic note. Howard Hawks did some uncredited work on the script, which may account for the similarities to his and Hecht's later Scarface. Credited writer Hecht, meanwhile, who wanted to disown the picture before its release, went on to win the very first Best Screenplay Oscar for Underworld. This is one of the 101 Gangster Movies to See Before You Die.

Books and essays about the gangster genre often cite Josef Von Sternberg's Underworld as an early, influential milestone, but unfortunately it's not easy to track down in any home-viewable format. Recently I was lucky enough to see this film in a theater, accompanied by live music in a packed house of enthused buffs. Whenever possible, this is the way to see a silent movie! The combination of a good score and the response of a simpatico crowd can really bring these works to life. And while there are some dramas of the '20s that show their age and provoke giggles at the wrong moments, this one is not in that category. Underworld holds up, and offers an unlikely yet oddly credible romantic triangle set in a milieu of violent crime. Like all of Von Sternberg's work it's exquisitely well photographed, and like many late silent films takes full advantage of a range of dynamic devices, including a "whip-pan" from face to face in one early scene and a startlingly fast montage of close-ups in another. But what makes this movie click isn't flashy cinematography or editing, it's the chemistry between a trio of top-drawer players working at full steam.

The story is built around three personalities: Bull Weed, played by George Bancroft, "Feathers," played by Evelyn Brent, and "Rolls Royce," played by Clive Brook. Bancroft is unforgettable as Bull, an outlaw of the old school who robs banks and jewelry stores single-handed. The character is, in some respects, the model for gangland kingpins played in later years by Jimmy Cagney and Paul Muni, and yet in a sense he's not a "gangster" at all, for he works solo and has only a handful of allies who show up at key moments and then vanish. Bull doesn't travel with bodyguards or hang out with the boys; despite his natty suits and urban lifestyle he suggests a Western bad man who rides alone. In the early scenes when he's at the top of his game Bull is boisterous, punctuating every conversation with gusts of hearty laughter, but as his situation darkens the laughter vanishes and the guy suddenly resembles an actual bull in an arena, grim and beady-eyed, still physically powerful but cornered and bewildered over how it could have happened. It's easy to see why this performance made George Bancroft so popular at the time: he's a larger-than-life actor with one of those homely/attractive faces, along the lines of an Edward G. Robinson or a Wallace Beery, not handsome but decidedly charismatic.

The beautiful Evelyn Brent is Bull's girlfriend Feathers, so called because of her feathery outfits. Although her character is not as fully delineated as Bancroft's Brent manages to convey a great deal of information with her fascinating eyes. It's clear that Feathers is a lot more intelligent than she lets on. She stays with Bull out of loyalty and gratitude but is well aware of his limitations, and increasingly unhappy about her own dependent status as his "moll." When an opportunity arises to run away with a more attractive and substantial guy she is immediately tempted, even if it means toying with the idea of betraying Bull to the cops, but she's also decent enough to recognize her obligation to him. Bull, after all, risks everything as a direct result of defending her honor when she's attacked. Feathers, despite her froufrou outfits and a nickname more suitable to a bimbo, is smart, sensitive, and surprisingly ethical for someone in her position.

Bancroft and Brent are terrific, but for my money the most memorable performance in Underworld is delivered by Clive Brook. Before this I'd seen Brook in several other films (including Von Sternberg's Shanghai Express opposite Marlene Dietrich), most often playing noble, stiff-upper-lip Englishmen, handsome and respectable but just a bit dull. Here, Brook is a revelation. In the opening scenes he's so decrepit he's not even recognizable, playing against type as a washed-up bum, unshaven and bleary-eyed. We learn that Brook's character is an attorney who went crooked and eventually became an alcoholic, but we aren't told much more. However, like Brent, the actor tells us everything we need to know that isn't directly stated in the text. His transformation begins when Bull Weed takes a liking to him, nicknames him "Rolls Royce" and makes him, in effect, his lieutenant. Much of what happens after that point concerns the growing tension between the three characters as an unavoidable attraction develops between Feathers and Rolls Royce, although they fight temptation and struggle to remain loyal to their boss. The scenes between the trio really heat up as the sexual tension between Feathers and Rolls Royce deepens.

Underworld isn't as flamboyantly violent as some of the famous crime flicks of the '30s and '40s, but there are a number of stylistic touches that mark it as a definite progenitor of those films. For instance, just before the climactic gun battle, Bull takes a sympathetic interest in an orphaned kitten, a motif echoed years later in This Gun for Hire. At another point, with rather heavy irony, a crook is gunned down in a flower shop before a wreath reading "Rest In Peace." A drawback as the film rolls along is the pile-up of increasingly unlikely plot twists, especially where Bull's escape from jail is concerned, although the momentum of events tends to carry the viewer along. Also, while the writing is generally taut, one title card during the gangsters' party sequence is so over-written it suggests a witches' coven. (This line drew chuckles at the screening I attended.) Aside from that unfortunate lapse into purple prose, Underworld holds up beautifully, at least as well as the more familiar gangster classics of the '30s it influenced. This film deserves the attention that should come with a full restoration and greater availability.

In a way, I suppose this film simply managed to push all the right buttons so far as I was concerned. The basic theme of conflicting love and loyalty is one that has always called to my heart, and the central trio of characters happen to tap into stereotypes of instant appeal: gentle, honourable intellectual - sharp-witted and independent beauty - and brash, brave brute of a bully, as intemperate in his passions as in his lack of taste, and yet not wholly without merit.

But while the initial premise may benefit from join-the-dots attraction, it is the performances and execution of the film that give it its power. All three principals do an outstanding job. Clive Brooks, as the educated man brought low by drink and redeemed by the casual generosity of a gangster, makes use of every shading of expression in a sensitive face, conveying more with fewer words in one glance than anyone else in the cast. His scenes with 'Feathers' are a tour-de-force. Despite his reticence, it's easy to credit that he is not only the most intelligent but - with the ironic vulnerability of the civilised man amidst those who live by tooth and claw - the most idealistic character in the film. Having thrown his lot in with criminals, he does the best he can to keep faith; but his eyes betray everything he cannot say.

Evelyn Brent has perhaps the hardest task, that of raising the moll 'Feathers' into more than just an object of general desire and appendage to her man. From her very first scenes - where she publicly adjusts her garter beneath the thigh-skimming hem of her dress - she radiates allure. But she also comes across as more perceptive and quick than her consort, and far more collected and self-contained. It's not hard to understand her roving eye when she meets a man more intriguing than Bull Weed, the jovial vulgarian who maintains her in the lap of luxury; but it is to the credit of George Bancroft, as 'Bull Weed', that we also sympathies with her reluctance to leave her protector in the lurch when she has the chance.

My admiration for Bancroft's acting gradually increased throughout the film. At the beginning he comes across as little better than a ham, gesturing over-widely and falling into uproarious laughter that is a little too loud and a little too long. But as time progresses it becomes evident that it is not the actor but the gangster himself who is playing a larger-than-life role, and when Bull Weed's defences slip we start to see the limited, confused man behind the act. Striding drunkenly for revenge, he transcends his humanity to become a lurching, elemental force. In court he shrinks to an uncomprehending ox of a man, all swagger gone. And finally, in perhaps Bancroft's finest achievement of all, with no audience left to play to but the shadows, Bull Weed in his betrayal becomes merely human, sinking back into the pretension-free gutter from which he must once have climbed. His last scenes carry a conviction and depth of character on which the success of the film ultimately rests, and which would have been all but unthinkable at the start.

Besides all this, the film itself is quite simply beautiful; beautifully made, beautifully lit, beautifully shot. It's no wonder that it was a smash hit by word of mouth, nor that it still stands up today, where the use of cruder sentiment or melodrama might long since have reduced it to the status of mere historical curiosity.

The stars are beautifully photographed; the lighting sets the mood, and Ben Hecht's Academy Award winning screenplay all combine to make this the definitive "gangster picture", done before many of the elements became cliches.

Underworld is a slice of early film noir and the gangster conventions from director Josef von Sternberg. You can sense films like Scarface both the original and the 1983 remake were influenced by it.

Set during prohibition America. Rolls Royce Wensel (Clive Brook) a former lawyer turned drunk witnesses boorish gangster Bull Weed (George Bancroft) pull off a bank job.

Instead of killing him, Bull rehabilitates him, Rolls Royce cleans up his act and becomes a trusted confidant of Bull. However Rolls Royce falls for Bull's moll Feathers McCoy (Evelyn Brent.) A rival gangster Buck Mulligan also has eyes for Feathers.

At a gangsters ball, Buck attempts to rape Feathers and Bull finds himself in death row.

Although a silent, the title cards hold some humour. It is a love triangle melodrama with street hoods with a touch of a Shakespearean tragedy. Underworld won the very first Best Story Oscar. However the prison break scene was choppy as Bull doubts Feathers and Rolls Royce's loyalties.

One of the great joys of prohibition-era gangster films is the colorful dialogue spat out by the likes of James Cagney and Edward G. Robinson. As that element would, obviously, be missing from a silent film, I wasn't sure how I would react to Underworld.

Not to worry. This is a great film, one of the best prohibition-era gangster films I've seen, ranking slightly ahead of Little Caesar and the Public Enemy, and maybe only slightly below Scarface (1932). Tough, tense, tightly written--interestingly, Howard Hawks is credited for the scenario--and with gorgeous DARK cinematography and Josef von Sternberg's usual excellence in direction. I barely missed the lack of gangster-speak.

I suppose this film was a template upon which a lot of gangster films were based. It struck me while watching it how much it had in common with the Coen brothers' Miller's Crossing (1990)--a love triangle between a mob boss, his moll, and his right hand man. And it's all about the gangsters' peculiar code of ethics.

I'd rate it a perfect 10, but for a muddled and badly-handled prison break sequence, which I watched three times and still couldn't figure out. Maybe I'm just dense; maybe it was actually a genius bit of filmmaking and it just flew over my head, but for now, 9/10.

The Grandaddy of gangster movies appears cliched today only because so many movies have used its plot as a template, but it still throbs with raw energy thanks to a powerhouse performance from burly George Bancroft. He plays Bull Weed, a notorious - but essentially kindhearted - mobster, who pulls an unconvincingly down-and-out Clive Brook out of the gutter only for Brook to fall for his moll, 'Feathers' McCoy (Evelyn Brent). Shot with an agreeable eye for the gritty milieu of the underworld, Josef von Sternberg's drama builds to the kind of violent stand-off with the cops that would become a staple of the genre.

I had read elsewhere that Underworld was the first film noir, but I didn't have high expectations before I saw the Criterion release. The action flows quickly and compellingly, while the noir scenes are beautifully done. A lot of it resembles Metropolis - the dance-hall scenes, the factory whistle, etc.

A lot of what I thought was original in Scarface (1932) is anticipated here - Ben Hecht wrote both of them. The love triangle, the flower shop, the apocalyptic shoot-out are much the same. Hecht complained about the (few) sentimental bits in Underworld, obviously Scarface was his come- back to Sternberg - but he owes a big debt to Sternberg for inventing so much new visual language.

Film noir seems to have developed gradually out of the chiaroscuro used by painters, as and when cameras became capable of it. The last third of Pandora's Box is noir, as is much of The Wind and most of The Lodger. The Lodger is probably the first all noir, but it is inferior to Underworld - Hitchcock was undermined by matinée-idol Ivor Novello's demand for a safe and innovative ending.

Definitely a must-see - too many people overlook silent cinema.

Al Caponesque Bull Weed is a mob kingpin with a big appetite for action. But like Capone who supported soup kitchens in the depression Bull can be charitable and he takes "part time lawyer, full time drunk" Rolls Royce Wensel (Clive Brook) out of the gutter and puts him on his feet again. Weed's girl Feathers (Evelyn Brent) falls for RR but he's not about to turn on his benefactor. Meanwhile foe Buck Mulligan seethes with rage and revenge.

This 1927 silent drips with nefarious ambiance under the chiaroscuro imagery of Josef Von Sternberg that he would be dazzling Marlene Dietrich with in the few short years ahead. Ripped from today's (1927) headlines with Capone and mobster, florist Dean O'Banion resemblances it depicts a wild and gaudy era of corruption and conspicuous consumption, epitomized by a "Mob Ball" the equal of Von Stroheim, evocative of the roaring 20s while made during the roaring 20s. It is no surprise the author is by street saavy Ben Hecht.

George Bancroft may be sentenced to hang but overall is a likable lug with an intimidating face that Von Sternberg does some fine portraiture work with. But he along with Ed Kohler as Buck tend to go over the top most of the way. Clive Brook as the conflicted Roll's shines in a well modulated performance while beautiful flapper Evelyn Brent matures with conviction.

It does have its share of gaping holes but they are quickly patched by Von Sternberg with a look that would inform the world of filmmaking and ( I know, it isn't a genre) film noir for decades to come.

It may have its place in film history as a proto-gangster film and I'm always interested in seeing von Sternberg's work, but this one just never grabbed me. The pace is slow, the story and its love triangles are uninteresting, and the morality elements are heavy-handed. The only point I perked up was when one character says he isn't interested in women, which I thought might be a nice early example of openness about homosexuality before Joseph Breen started enforcing the Production Code ... but then shortly afterwards, he was indeed interested in women. The film needed some kind of spark - more star power, a better story, more grit, more atmosphere, I don't know - but without those things, I just felt it was kind of blah. Not horrible, just mundane. Maybe I just wasn't in the right mood when I saw it and am being harsh, but I was glad when it ended, even at just 80 minutes.

I just saw a re-issue of this film tonight as part of the 26th annual Three Rivers Film Festival in Pittsburgh and I was highly satisfied. The Alloy Orchestra were on-hand to provide an all-new live score, which created a near-perfect match for this underrated classic.

The acting was spot-on (although admittedly a much different style than modern audiences are used to), the set design and lighting were pitch-perfect (check out the copious amounts of confetti at the Underworld Ball), and the complexities of the characters and plot line far exceeded anything I was expecting from an 80 year-old film. Suffice it to say that modern cinema has not cornered the market on engaging, surprising and provocative storytelling.

If you have a chance to see Underworld, particularly when accompanied by the Alloy Orchestra, take the opportunity. It's a rarefied experience that's well worth your 90 minutes.

I am not a big fan of the gangster film; when I am in the vicinity of the crime drama I always gravitate towards noir, where the moral lesson reserved for our protagonist in crime is not simply a present awareness that this life was only paid back with suffering but a deeper glimpse of the entire karmic process that produces a life of suffering.

In a gangster film this lesson is expressed in one of two ways; the protagonist is either left a broken, doomed being whose tragic fate is envied by no one, or is purged in the fire and brimstone of a final violence. So although we have watched secretly fascinated at the social fabric in ruins, it is important, in both respects, that we leave the theater restored in ethical order. We thus assume the role of the despised public enemy; his fate is ours for having indulged the antisocial fantasy. The final taste is always gingerly bitter, and works when it does because we invested so much of ourselves in the wrong side of the fence.

So you may hear of this as a milestone in the evolution of this type of film, and it's all because of the finale. It is this cathartic vision of some urban mid-station on the road to limbo where, amid a pall of gunsmoke and broken shards of brick wall, our protagonist comes to realize folly and is purged from life almost as a hero.

It is important to note that he doesn't go out all guns blazing, but rather surrenders to the cops. He will face death, but will not be even momentarily martyred on screen; what is heroic about him, so properly old fashioned, is that he honorably extricates from his bloody fate the innocent.

You can't miss any of this if you're a fan of the gangster genre. Scarface - the original - was built on this.

There are a few other instances that exert some cinematic intrigue; the fast-cutting of faces, superimpositions, shadows across walls. But it does not match the more interesting experiments going on in silent cinema of the time, or what this man would be doing the following year.

What is so apt about all of this is the smoky, drowsily anxious mood, the sense of excited weariness at the prospect of danger. There is a brawl in what only 30 years before would have been called a saloon. It's called the 'Dreamland Cafe', and just outside a neon sign reading 'The City is Yours' flashes the grinning mobster and his moll.

I don't think there is an earlier gangster drama of this quality. Director Josef von Sternberg was definitely breaking new ground when he brought out 'Underworld' in 1927. George Bancroft as gangster boss 'Buck' Weed takes a linking to Clive Brook, whom he calls 'Rolls Royce'. Brook is in the doldrums and drunk most of the time, but Bancroft gives him a chance. The snag is, Brook falls in love with his new boss's girl Feathers (played by Evelyn Brent), and things get both complicated and dangerous. I enjoyed watching 'Underworld' almost from start to finish. Bancroft is great as jovial criminal, and Brook convinced me as ex-lawyer turned bum who takes the chance that is being offered to him. Fred Kohler als Bancroft's brutal rival Mulligan is also very good. On the downside, Brent's character is underdeveloped - she stays relatively pale. The ending is pretty sentimental and does not fit the style of the rest of the film. Bancroft turns out to be a bandit with a heart of gold who discovers what friendship really is about - and that literally a minute before he ascends the gallows. Somehow I felt let down... But apart from that: Good film!

This movie almost didn't saw the daylight. It was produced and stored not to be released.

Why? Probably becouse beeing a gangster or a criminal looked exiting and a good fantasy to have as a way of life.

The second option was becouse it was a direction fail driven by experiments.

The main elements are drama and romance, there is crime environment but the film noir is reduced to a few camera tricks, intead the adventure element surges beyond inconclusions is clearly an adventure.

To fix this the direction needs to restructure the entire romance or make the film all over again from scratch.

A good movie for cinema students to watch and reflect.

'Underworld' is the second film of Josef von Sternberg recently seen. The other being 'The Docks of New York'. Although 'Underworld' is the more historically significant of the two films, being the first gangster film and one of the earliest film noir-like films, there is a preference for 'The Docks of New York'. Both are very, very good films though. Sternberg was a fine director, evident in his collaborations with Marlene Dietrich, and George Bancroft deserves a lot more credit as an actor.

As said, 'Underworld' is a very good film. It is not one of Sternberg's best, do prefer the likes of 'Shanghai Empress', 'The Blue Angel', 'The Scarlet Empress' and 'The Devil is a Woman'. It is incredible though that this is only his third solo film, well technically the fifth but two are lost, and his distinctive style seemed not only obvious throughout but fully established, one does not usually that with directors at this early a stage, so 'Underworld' was something of an achievement.

Is 'Underworld' perfect? No as two scenes didn't quite work for me. One was the prison break sequence, which lacked the necessary tension and felt choppily staged.

The other was the ending, after the exciting shoot out it then ends on a tacked on note that is too at odds with what came before and came over as a little heavy-handed as well.

Sternberg's direction though is truly impressive, one does not expect to see direction this polished, visually beautiful or taut at such an early career stage suggestive of a director who had actually been in the profession for years beforehand (that's a compliment by the way). What immediately stands out is the production values, the settings are evocatively seedy yet made oddly attractive at the same time and the cinematography has great audacious style and gritty atmosphere. Sternberg's films always had great use of light and shadow and 'Underworld' is no exception. The music is suitably haunting.

Other than two scenes, the story was riveting with a suitably pull no punches atmosphere, some exciting moments (especially the climactic shoot-out, which is why it's a shame that how it's resolved disappoints) and some nice turns that stopped it from becoming predictable without it becoming confusing. The central relationship to me was handled fine. The performances likewise, with Bancroft showing again with his intensity that he is deserving of more credit. Clive Brook shows here how his acting grew significantly from when he first started and Evelyn Brent is charming.

Concluding, very good. 8/10

It's always interesting and bittersweet to think about where silent cinema might've gone had the talkies not come around in 1927 and become so dominant by the decade's end. So many of the best silent movies came out this year, and almost no one stuck to the silent format once the 1930s started. I guess Charlie Chaplin held out for a little while, and made a couple of all-time great (mostly) silent films, but even he was talking by the start of the 1940s.

Anyway, Underworld is a silent film that was mentioned in a book I just finished, also called Underworld (by Don DeLillo). So it seemed like a good excuse to watch something silent, because I don't watch as many of these century-old movies as I used to.

And a lot of this one was really cool. I felt like the crime stuff was a bit underbaked, but the romantic melodrama held up pretty well. There's a really effective seduction sort of scene (for lack of a better word) early on, and the camera tricks to show one guy's heartbreak and imagination about an ex driving him to madness worked really well.

A ton of Underworld is imaginative and technically impressive, but it's also pretty thin overall narratively and when it comes to characters, losing me at a couple of points despite only being about 80 minutes long. They do stretch it a little to get it to that length, which is a drawback, but it's otherwise quite engaging for a film that's almost 100 years old.

Bull Weed is a boisterous gangster bank robber. His girlfriend is the flashy Feathers McCoy. His rival is Buck Mulligan. Wensel is a vagrant but he's no snitch. He's a Rolls Royce of silence. Bull gives Rolls Royce a thousand bucks and makes him a partner in crime. Using Rolls Royce's brains, Bull becomes even more successful. At a wild party, Buck attacks Feathers and an angry drunken Bull kills him. Bull is sent to prison. Feathers convinces Rolls Royce to run away with her but she changes her mind to break him out of prison.

This is a great pre-Depression era gangster movie. It has the classic gangster style and characters. It's a silent movie that lays out the genre that would explode a few years later. This is one in a line of developments in the gangster genre.

A stylish late silent from Josef von Sternberg about a crime lord (George Bancroft) who makes over an alcoholic bum (Clive Brook) only to succumb to murderous jealousy when he suspects his girlfriend (Evelyn Brent) of falling for the reformed and refined gentleman.

Von Sternberg makes active and imaginative use of his camera, and the film is crisp and dynamic. You can tell watching it that it influenced a thousand gangster pictures that came after it, and Warner Bros. pretty much adopted its gritty look wholesale for the slew of cheap crime fills it would go on to make throughout the 1930s.

"Underworld" brought Ben Hecht the very first Oscar for Original Story, which at the time was the closest thing to an award for Best Original Screenplay that the Academy doled out.

Grade: A