Manslaughter

Crazy, entertaining flick by C. B. DeMille, with Leatrice Joy as a reckless playgirl and Thomas Meighan as a District Attorney. Lois Wilson adds support as Joy's maid, who steals Joy's ring to pay for her son's medical bills. Meighan, who is in love with Joy, prosecutes Wilson, although Joy promises to appear in court on her behalf. Instead, Joy gets a hangover and Wilson is sent to the slammer. As Joy is roaring down the street in her car (over 60 mph!!!), a motorcycle cop pursues her (there is a subplot here, but not worth mentioning). Anyhow, the cop smacks into her car, and Joy is charged with manslaughter. Meighan, thoroughly ticked off at Joy by now, prosecutes her, and off Joy goes to the slammer. Now Wilson runs into Joy and treats her like crap. But soon, Wilson sees the light, and so does Joy. Meighan, distraught over sending his true love to jail, starts hitting the bottle. Will DeMille go for a happy ending?

There is one weird aspect of this film, and that is the Roman orgy scene. This "flashback" occurs while Meighan is summing up his case against Joy. The scene is complete with tigers, gladiators, people prancing around in weird outfits, and, if my eyes did not deceive me, two women making out. Later, there is another "flashback," with Meighan in some weird barbarian garb dragging Joy up some steps with a whip around her hands. Apparently this was DeMille's way of saying the country was going to hell in a hand cart. I quote from him: "I wished to show that a nation that is addicted to speed and drunkenness is riding for a fall. The best way to achieve this result was to picturize the greatest nation that ever suffered from these vices and show what happened to it. From this, it is easy to draw a modern parallel."

While vacationing in Europe, movie director Cecil B. DeMille had been laid low with rheumatic fever, ruining his trip. He wasn't quite recovered when he returned to direct what film historians claim is his worst film, September 1922's "Manslaughter." There are variety of reasons for the ignominious crown in the director's palette of movies, most of which occurred in front of his camera.

It wasn't due to the lack of research in the preparation of the Jeanie MacPherson script, based on woman suffragette Alice Miller's 1921 novel of the same name. MacPherson wanted to experience the process being booked for a crime and living in jail as the protagonist, played by Leatrice Joy, had experienced in the story. DeMille approved of a scheme to have her get arrested for stealing a friend's fur, who was also in on the act, and be a prisoner for a few days. The police eventually found out about the ploy and released her. But the experience, details which were incorporated in her screenplay, jolted MacPherson so much she wrote an article titled 'I Have Been In Hell.'

So what makes "Manslaughter" so campy? The over-the-top dramatics of several actors, especially Thomas Meighan, the boyfriend lawyer of the carefree Lydia, is one whose dramatics is reminiscent of a bygone era. He sees his girlfriend headed down a slippery slope because of her wild behavior even before she accidentally kills a police officer during a high speed chase. He readily voluteers to be the prosecuting attorney charging her with manslaughter. His motive: to get her life back in order. After her conviction and imprisonment, Meighan displays such inner turmoil that one could see his neck blood vessels almost burst.

Even Leatrice Joy's performance is reminiscent of those seen in film during the early 1900's. The actress claimed she based her screen persona on attending a Los Angeles trial of a woman up for murder. But Joy's melodramatics carry such heady mannerisms that when someone showed the movie at her daughter's birthday 40 years after "Manslaughter" was released, the former actress "thought it was hilarious."

Of course, what would a DeMille movie be without a spectacular scene or two. In two fantasy sequences paralleling the plot, one has Joy overseeing an ancient Roman drunken fest where all participants are passed out, only to be intruded by aggresive barbarians. The other is a dream sequence where Joy shoots her boyfriend at a heavily-attended trial, sending the courtroom spectators scurrying around like disturbed ants.

Thomas Meighan (as Daniel J. O'Bannon) is a district attorney in love with "speed-mad" Leatrice Joy (as Lydia Thorne). Mr. Meighan loves Ms. Joy, "for the girl he thinks she could be," but not the geared up speed freak she is. One day, Joy takes her sporty car out to race a locomotive, and wins! Later, cop Jack Mower (as Jim Drummond) stops her; but, Ms. Joy drops him a diamond necklace, and speeds off to party. Lois Wilson (as Evans) is Joy's maid; to save her ailing son, she steals a jeweled ring from Joy. After Ms. Wilson is sent to the pokey, Joy commits manslaughter. Will D.A. Meighan let her get off?

Bacchannalian parties, which alternate between present and ancient Roman debauches, is a sure sign Cecil B. DeMille is directing. The O'Bannon character's flashbacks to ancient Rome are ludicrous DeMille indulgences. The better indulgence is the generous time DeMille's camera spends in a prison for women; his female prisoners are a lively bunch! The performances are sometimes entertaining, especially Joy and Wilson. Meighan starts off slow, but eventually succumbs to degradation. While fun is spots, this is NOT a great film. The love between Meighan and Joy is not particularly convincing; he shows more interest in Wilson, and might have been wise to run off with her. The story is sometimes inexplicable.

Symbolism likens a doughnut to a life preserver - so, why not a wheel? Coin collectors might enjoy the change in Meighan's pocket when he's down and out - two buffalo nickels and a standing liberty quarter.

***** Manslaughter (1922) Cecil B. DeMille ~ Thomas Meighan, Leatrice Joy, Lois Wilson

Leatrice Joy is the rich, careless girl who runs down a police officer; Thomas Meighan is the District Attorney who is first her lover, and then her prosecutor; Lois Wilson is the subplot, Miss Joy's maid, placed in prison for stealing Miss Joy's jewelry and pawning them....so she can send her sick son, under doctor's orders, to a warm climate. Meighan suggests mercy rather than justice to Miss Joy, but at first she's too angry, and later, too hung over.

There are the usual Demille scenes of people having a great time getting drunk in wild costumes, and even worse, dancing; later, during Meighan's summing up, there's a flashback sequence in which barbarians in hairy vests and winged helmets break into where the Vestal Virgins are sleeping one off. Finally, there's redemption for the ladies in vague homilies and multi-denominational Christianity. Meanwhile, Meighan has been been going through his own spiral, thanks to the demon rum, but there's hope even for him, in the love of a good woman.

My vague and sarcastic gassing is not intended to put down this version, so much as to be entertaining while giving away as little as possible to those who have not seen this movie. Let's be honest: there are some people whose opinion is worthwhile, who claim this is the worst movie Demille ever made. I can see why. It's at the end of his cavort-for-six-reels-and-repent-in-the-seventh phase, and the public was growing a tad tired of them by this point. I don't think it's worse than any of the others. In fact, I think it rather typical. Had public tastes not changed, he would have kept on making them.

No, if there are issues, it's that remaining with the same format meant Demille's evolution from one movie to the next had to be incremental rather than revolutionary. Also, I don't think Miss Joy brings much to the part that a more skilled comedienne might have. However, Bebe Daniels was off doing comedies for another division of Paramount, and Gloria Swanson likewise. Contrariwise, Meighan is fine, and Miss Wilson, while poorly served, doesn't let the side down. The result is an entertaining movie that if not the overwhelming success that Demille had grown used to by this point, is certainly worth your time.

The plot, even if a little dragged out, would be allright; we just can no longer stand seeing - especially in the scenes of ancient Rome (which are by the by perfectly unnecessary) - everyone waving their arms like madmen, and - not all through the film, I must say, but in a consistent part of it - the actors too often resorting to those stereotyped gestures that characterize many films of the first (and last) silent cinema: gestures probably taken from contemporary theatre, but - since in silent cinema, by definition, no words could be uttered - exaggeratedly amplified to be sure of getting the message across.

Other powerful means were also available to early cinema: just think of close-ups, or the expression of a face... Similar cinematic tricks were not possible in the theatre: they were some of the tools of cinema as a new means of expression, or - in rare cases - art.

Among the filmmakers, some realized it earlier, some later...