Tol'able David

In Billy Wilder's "Sunset Boulevard," a forgotten silent-film actress, Norma Desmond, explained the appeal of silent stars: "we had faces then!" In the musical version of that classic, the lyric "…with one look I'm the girl (or boy) next door…" expanded on the visual powers of silent film actors. Each of those lines could have been written for handsome, charismatic Richard Barthelmess, the star of Henry King's "Tol'able David." Although his too-short pants vainly attempt to obscure the actor's maturity, Barthelmess manages to convince the audience that he is a boy at the edge of manhood. Through his dark eyes, body language, and facial expressions, Barthelmess literally becomes "the boy next door" without uttering a syllable.

"Tol'able David" may be too sentimental and occasionally too hokey for modern audiences, but, if viewed in the context of the post World War I period, the bucolic Americana story is engaging. Like the United States in the years leading up to the Great War, belligerent outsiders disrupt David's idyllic family life, and the young boy becomes a man in the fight to restore his world. The tale is simple, but universal. Enhanced by location filming in Virginia, "Tol'able David" provides a glimpse of country life in the early 20th century. However, produced in 1921, the film preceded the golden period of silent movies that was reached in the late 1920's, and the technical perfection and acting subtleties of that later period are lacking here. Although Ernest Torrence makes a formidable, frightening villain, neither his appearance nor his performance are subtle, and he owes more to the oft-parodied "grand style" of the early silents than to the nuanced acting that evolved later in the decade. However, Barthelmess and his leading lady, Gladys Hulette, perform admirably, even in a broad comic scene with a barrel that seems to have been taken from another movie.

Henry King keeps the story moving, although his camera did not achieve the fluidity that distinguishes later silents. A transitional film made between the innovative days of Griffith and the heights of Murnau, Vidor, and von Stroheim, "Tol'able David" remains entertaining and affectionate towards a vanished way of life and a lost style of film-making. If the viewer can transport him or herself back in time, a dazzling star and a film with genuine warmth and sentiment will immerse the audience in the days when "sentimental" was not a four-letter word.

"Tol'able David" (Inspiration/First National, 1921), directed by Henry King, stars Richard Barthelmess in one of his most celebrated roles of his career. Following his previous successes opposite Lillian Gish in D.W. Griffith directorial masterworks of BROKEN BLOSSOMS (1919) and WAY DOWN EAST (1920), this is Barthelmess, like David, on his own and proving himself more than what he can be, in this case, a youth who becomes a man. Taken from the short story by Joseph Hergesheimer, with screen adaptation by Henry King and Edmund Goulding, TOL'ABLE David was so successful that it elevated Barthelmess to the rank of accomplished leading man. Even with these fine credentials, TOL'ABLE David, has become close to becoming a forgotten item of truly great movies from the silent film era.

Following the inter-title opener: "Behind three great ranges of mountains lay the pastorial valley of Greenstream. There the Kinemons had long made their home as tenants on the rich farm of John Galt," comes individual title introductions of its basic characters before the plot gets underway: "Hunter Kinemon (Edmund Gurney) kept the Biblical tradition of a family united by every tie of love and home"; Mrs. Kinemon (Marion Abbott), mother of a home her tenderness helped create"; David (Richard Barthelmess), the youngest son who was called his mother's boy;" Allan (Warner Richmond), the elder son, reckoned the strongest man in Greensteam County"; Rose (Patterson Dial), Allan's wife, loved as a daughter of the house; Esther (Gladys Hulette), the granddaughter of neighbor Hatburn (Forrest Robinson); and John Galt (Lawrence Eddinger), storekeeper, village postmaster, and richest man in the Valley." David is the central character, one many claim to be "tol'able." Aside from "David and Goliath" being his favorite Bible story reading, he wants nothing more than to become like his older brother, Allan, right down to assuming his job of driving the daily hack twenty miles to West Virginia. The family and neighbors live peaceful lives in their own little rural community. All that changes with the arrival of three outlaws ("trouble like the shadow of a black cloud hurried across the countryside toward Greenstream") fleeing from the law of another state: Iska Hatburn (Walter E. Lewis), "chief fugitive of a fugitive family"; Luke (Ernest Torrance), "his elder son whose peculiar humor it was to destroy whatever he encountered"; and Little "Buzzard" Hatburn (Ralph Yearsley), the "baby of the clan." After seeking refuge in the cottage of their Hatburn cousin, the trio begin to make life intolerable for the community, especially for Tol'able David and his faithful dog, Rocket.

While other movies have been inspired by the success of TOL'ABLE David, with the Harold Lloyd feature, THE KID BROTHER (Paramount, 1927) told through comedy with serious overtones, the basic premise itself of TOL'ABLE David was remade as a talkie by Columbia (1930) with Richard Cromwell, Joan Peers, Henry B. Walthall and Noah Beery under John G. Blystone's direction. Virtually forgotten, the 1921 original, under Henry King's leisurely paced direction, ranks one of the finer retelling of good versus evil stories captured on film. It's a fine example of a movie tailor-made for Barthelmess that also gives a well-produced account of rural West Virginia mountain farmers from another time frame. Though Barthelmess in true essence was older than his David of under twenty, he's youthful appearance is enough to make his David believable. The brutal beating of David's brother that leaves him paralyzed (scene eliminated in some prints) and wife with newborn baby in total shock, is quite grim and startling, but nothing compared to what's to follow with David and those responsible.

The film itself must have made an great impression on producer/director William Castle to insert TOL'ABLE David as part of a movie within a movie sequence for his classic "scream" feast of THE TINGLER (Columbia, 1959) starring Vincent Price. Once seen, it's hard to forget such an impressive scene set in a neighborhood silent movie house consisting mostly of teenagers mesmerized through the piano scoring action of young Barthelmess up there on the screen before something occurs to distract them. Unlike many well notable silent film classics, television showings of TOL'ABLE David have been extremely limited. It's only known broadcast (and rebroadcast) was on New York City's own public television station, WNET, Channel 13, for its "Million and One Nights of Film" (1965-66). As with the scene lifted from THE TINGLER, TOL'ABLE David did become part of the revival theater generation, including a presentation from New York City's Museum of Modern Art around 1980 to an attentive audience. Thanks to home video and later DVD format, TOL'ABLE David has become readily available through various distributors. The best and more accurate form (99 minutes as opposed to slightly shorter prints) was from Grapevine Video equipped with satisfactory orchestral score. Other prints include those scored by Robert Israel, or a bargain basement edition with no scoring at all.

In conclusion, TOL'ABLE David may look primitive to the modern eye, but remains quite tol'able for it's melodramatic theme and believable performances by entire cast. (****)

Although it starts off seemingly on the wrong foot with one of my favorite heroes, Richard Barthelmess, forced to take part in some embarrassingly farcical scenes with a rain barrel, the movie soon settles down into high drama once the Hatburns come to roost at a neighboring farm. A vicious threesome, ostensibly led by Walter P. Lewis, the Hatburns are in fact dominated by a towering sadist, unforgettably played by hulking Ernest Torrence.

Although director Henry King does a lot of admirable scene setting with both his well-chosen locations and his hand-picked cast, this is a movie in which the minor players are just that: Minor! All play their parts most convincingly, but only Marion Abbott makes a lasting impression. Otherwise, this is strictly (as the script itself makes plain), a David versus Goliath confrontation. Even the sweet little heroine is relegated to the background once the action really starts. But that is all to the good, as that climactic fight-to-the-finish still packs a wallop that is unmatched in the cinema.

The above review, as published in my book, "Silent Films & Early Talkies on DVD", was based on the 94 minutes Image DVD version. I have just seen the 99-minute Grapevine version which is superior in a number of respects. For one thing, it throws more attention on Gladys Hulette who really comes to the fore in the beautifully tinted and toned dance sequence, which Image presents far less attractively in a faded, dull-as-ditch-water tint. And I must admit I greatly prefer the superbly synchronized canned music in the Grapevine disc to Robert Israel's adequate but by no mens riveting original score for Image.

Richard Barthelmess is a strange actor, an actor who performed in silent movies without pantomime. An actor who acted as if he were speaking dialogue. He was so natural an actor that in an era that that needed big gestures and flamboyance to convey emotion, he succeeded in doing this without the need. It is said he could have won many an Oscar if they had them in his hey days but it was not to be. He was nominated though, once. He wasn't one of those stars who died out because his voice didn't match the image when talkies came because his first sound picture was a hit. Rather, it was because he started to choose non-commercial or artsy movies so to speak. I watch them now and wonder who expected them to be hits. There is one movie he made that plays like a "new wave" picture of the sixties. Now to the movie in question. This picture itself is not complex. In some ways, make that lots of ways, it's heavy handed melodrama from Henry King, a man who survived to direct many a big budget sound picture and make one or two really good pictures. Easy to guess, this is a retelling of the David and Goliath story set in a small town where a bunch of really nasty escaped convicts who scream evil come to town. David is a cheerful boy who nobody expects much from. He is just so t'olable. As the nasties bring gloom to the cheeriness of the town, they also end up killing David's father and David is forced to sell the farm because he cannot tend it now that his Dad is dead. His mom in the death scene of his father has the longest heart ache scene I ever seen. She sits still staring into nothingness as her husband is dying for what seems like ten full minutes of screen time. Of course, there is the girl who ignores David because he isn't a man and David must prove himself to his family and the girl and save the town. What happens? Note: Watch for the scene where a sick David drives the horse cart.

Watch Barthelmess and learn the meaning of acting. I watched this movie at a revival house with a live piano score and it heightened a lot of the action and I felt as if I was back in the twenties. Not a great movie, passable entertainment but a good introduction to one of the forgotten silent greats. (If you care to know, this movie was a big hit.)

This pastoral melodrama still packs a punch after nearly a century, mostly thanks to a lovingly produced scenario concocted by director Henry King with screenwriter (and future director) Edmund Goulding, from a Joseph Hergesheimer short story, and featuring a nearly flawless cast led by the charismatic Richard Barthelmess.

There is nothing fancy here except perhaps some overdone Griffith-style editing flourishes at the climax which artificially prolong the action, stretching its essential slam-bang quality into something resembling the slow motion stylization that caught on in the Sixties (Bonnie & Clyde's ending, for instance).

Generally, the pacing, setup and unfolding of the story are smooth and sure; the characters are authentically embodied and intelligently cast; the acting is subtle and for the most part realistic; the photography reveals all of the necessary information without ever calling attention to itself. The full spectrum of human emotional and spiritual states are covered. The themes are as old as the Virginia hills in which the story takes place: God, family, home, good vs evil, kindness vs cruelty, mother love, personal responsibility, coming of age, the cycle of birth, aging and death.

Ernest Torrence, in real life as civilized and cultivated a man as one could hope to encounter, plays a despicable criminal, who with his father and younger brother comprise a trio of sociopaths. The way he is photographed and choreographed heavily underscores his wickedness, but this kind of heightened presentation was a staple of silent cinema both in the US and abroad. The height and body language of the three bad-guy actors is in marked contrast to the families they afflict, adding a visual dimension to their essential natures. The least satisfying acting comes from Warner Richmond, who too often substitutes stupid grinning for characterization as the title character's strapping older brother. But Marion Abbott never cloys as the emotionally ravaged mother, and Gladys Hulette is the perfect country girl next door. Barthelmass is the soul of the film and perhaps never equaled this performance.