The Unholy Three

THE UNHOLY THREE (MGM, 1930), directed by Jack Conway, offers a moment of truth for 1930 audiences and film enthusiasts today in witnessing what silent film legend Lon Chaney had never done before on screen - to be heard as well as seen. Between 1928 and 1929, movie goers were given the opportunity to hear their favorite silent stars speaking on screen for the first time. Some succeeded, others did not. Chaney and Greta Garbo were MGM's final holdouts, each making the transition to sound by 1930, while the great comic, Charlie Chaplin held out the longest, making his talking debut in  THE GREAT DICTATOR (1940). Of all the silent screen performers, Chaney was something of a curiosity. The question is, "How would the man who created such legendary characters as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" (1923) or "The Phantom of the Opera," (1925)  sound on film?" For THE UNHOLY THREE, the wait wasn't very long. Minutes after the opening credits, the voice of Chaney is finally heard, with his first words being "Thank you, doctor. Thank you." For his role as a ventriloquist, Chaney offers his audience the opportunity to get to listen to his many voices as he did during the silent era with his many faces. Even for a talkie, Chaney continues to express himself with facial gestures as he did in the silent era, which comes off to best advantage.

The story opens where Professor Echo (Chaney), a sideshow performer, entertains with his ventriloquist act. He is accompanied by Hercules, the strong man (Ivan Linow), Tweeledee (Harry Earles), the midget, and his girlfriend, Rosie O'Grady (Lila Lee), who roams around the crowd picking the pockets from observant patrons. Following a police raid that puts the Brandon's Old-Fashioned Museum out of business, the next scene reveals Echo planning a new racket with his associates, working as thieves in the night. As "The Unholy Three," Echo disguises himself as a kindly old lady who owns "Mrs. O'Grady's Bird Shop"; Rosie as "her granddaughter"; Tweeledee plays the baby in the cradle; and Hercules as Granny's son-in-law and baby's uncle. For security reasons, Echo takes his pet gorilla from the sideshow, keeping him in the back room in case any of his partners in crime, particularly Hercules, decides to betray them. Also among "The Unholy Three" is Hector MacDonald (Elliott Nugent), a young student studying to become an architect who's obtained a position in the bird shop in order to be near Rosie, unaware that her "relatives" are a gang of thieves. When Echo discovers Rosie's love for the young man, he decides to make Hector the fall guy by making him the prime suspect, causing his arrest for the series of crimes and murder while the gang seeks refuge in a cabin out in the country, with Rosie being held against her will.

First filmed in 1925 that also featured Chaney and Harry Earles, with Mae Busch and Victor McLaglen as Rosie and Hercules, the same roles enacted here by the lesser known names of Lila Lee and Ivan Linow, who make fine, though not entirely great substitutes. While Chaney's voice(s) are articulate and clear, Earles is often hard to comprehend. Aside from this, Earles' character comes off both annoying and unlikable, which is probably the way he's supposed to be in the first place, being an instigator tempting Hercules to do things against his will. Hercules may be a strong man, but comes across as weak, considering his fear towards Echo's gorilla as well as failing to stand for himself against both Echo and Tweeledee.

Twelve minutes shorter than the original, with certain scenes slightly altered or eliminated altogether, everything appears to occur very quickly, with detailed actions described in words than depicted with extended scenes. Director Jack Conway makes several attempts in duplicating Tod Browning's style as presented for the 1925 version. The use of silhouetted images of "The Unholy Three" as they gather together planning their latest caper is revised, along with elements of surprise and suspense where a police inspector (Clarence Burton) plays around with the baby's toy elephant where the stolen necklace is actually hidden, and another at the trial where Echo plants a note for Hector to read, only to watch him toying with it instead. Aside from these revised highlights, only the ending differs from the original, for reasons explained in the TV documentary "Lon Chaney, a Thousand Faces" (2000). Comparing these films, each presented on Turner Classic Movies, it's sometimes hard to determine which is the better of the two, yet, the ending used for the remake is more in a logical sense. See and judge for yourself.

Although Chaney did became a success with his initial talkie, this was to be his one and only. Shortly after its completion, Chaney succumbed to cancer. Aside from Chaney's famous line, "That's all there is to life, folks, just a little laugh, a little tear," used in both movies, he finished his long and successful career with these final words, "I'll send you a postal card." The legend of Chaney ends here. The success and curiosity to THE UNHOLY THREE rests entirely on the man and the legend, even more so with this, his last hurrah. (***)

Indeed, Lon Chaney was the man of a thousand faces, a make-up genius so ahead of his time that "three quarters of a century later" well accomplished professionals are still to be awed at the visual effects he compassed. Sadly, for most, he will always be remembered as Erick, the Phantom and Quasimodo. However, Chaney was much than just a horror actor and a pioneer of many stage make-up techniques; he was a gifted actor, as well as, a matchless performer and person. He was an incredibly skilled actor and, thankfully, The Unholy Three (1930) let's us actually see that.

In this film, Chaney did five voices; those of a parrot, an old woman, a girl, a ventriloquist, and the ventriloquist's dummy. His voice work was such that he had to sign a notarized statement largely as a publicity stunt, attesting to his versatile voice work in The Unholy Three. While the film is notable as a vehicle for the actor's vocal gymnastics, the story of this talkie version of the 1925 version is pretty much identical to the silent, but with a few exceptions: As a talkie, The Unholy Three is a bit less gripping by the sounds becoming explicit, as well as, lacking much of the macabre horror the silent version featured. Mae Busch is replaced by the far better Lila Lee, who was not only better as the roll of Rosie but much prettier as well. However, Victor Mclagen who played Hercules in the silent version was much better than his replacement, Ivan Linow. As far as, Harry Earles is concerned, his voice is completely incomprehensible. Not to mention, the man sitting behind the chair is no longer Tod Browning, but in fact, Jack Conway. Also, at the climax (differing much from the silent version), Mrs. O'Grady appears in court to testify on Hector's behalf. Under the strain of the cross-examination, Echo's voice cracks, and the prosecuting attorney pulls off his wig. Echo's subsequent confession clears Hector, but Echo is sent to prison. In the tearfully painful final scene, Hector and Rosie wave goodbye as Echo is sent off to prison by train.

The question that will forever remain, is if Chaney had lived, what else would he have accomplished? My guess is he would've easily conquered the movement in Hollywood toward more complicated make-up techniques, making any such effects icon look rather amateurish. Perhaps several nominations, maybe even an Oscar winner! He certainly would've played Count Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, The Mummy, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. If that were the case, what would ever come of such actors like Fredric March, Bela Lugosi, and Boris Karloff who became famous from playing their landmark Monster roll? He undoubtedly could've played anything and been anyone he wanted. His abilities were far beyond any actor of his or any other era. Unfortunately, out of 150+ films Chaney appeared in, less than 50 survived, and all we really have left of this brilliant, phenom of a talent are the monster movies that made him famous. Chaney was known for much more, for comedy and drama. In fact, he was also a highly skilled dancer, director, writer, singer, and comedian. And yet it was cancer that took him from film just as he proved he could successfully speak within the new realm of sound.

Lon Chaney could have been, perhaps, the greatest actor of all time, though, with much of his work missing, it's still justifiable that he is and beyond all the thousands of faces, there was one true Chaney: an incredibly gifted artist. Too bad we don't get to see it more often.

Though not nearly as polished as its silent counterpart, in large part due to the absence of director Tod Browning, this version is still a well-made film with a lot to offer. If for no other reason than seeing Lon Chaney in his only sound film, this film is a must! Chaney is wonderful again in the role of Echo, a ventriliquist and criminal. Chaney shows that he understood the sound medium and would have done great things in pictures to come had he lived. Alas! he died shortly after this film from throat cancer. He shows that he was a very credible actor and really impressed me with his comic timing. The rest of the cast is good with Elliot Nugent as the patsy Hector contributing a nice turn and Harry Earles again reprising his role as the midget baby. I found some of his words a bit difficult to understand, but he nonetheless added immeasurably with his split persona of a hard, stogie-chomping small man and then becoming a little tyke with relative ease. Lila Lee does a credible at best job as Rosie O' Grady. Some scenes in this film are particularly well-crafted as when the policeman visits the home of Mrs. O'Grady and starts playing with Earles's toy elephant. Also, Earles is a delight to watch playing with a ruby necklace. Chaney does not get the opportunity to show the pathos he exuded in the silent version - more due to Browning's absence I think. Director Jack Conway does a workmanlike job but misses a bit with the atmosphere of the film. At any rate a fine film and a tribute to Chaney as man capable of just about anything!

As all Lon Chaney fans know, this was Lon's first talkie, and what a talkie it was. The dialogue was a little rusty at times (mostly from the midget), but the presence of Chaney added much more excitement because it was probably the first time that the public had ever heard him speak (his lifestyle was very secluded and he was a fairly private person, so it's possible that his biggest fans of the time only saw him on-screen, never in public). He had a very good voice, although if he had lived long enough to play Dracula, I'm not sure if I could picture that. I can see him in costume, but not with the kind of voice he had. It seems very symbolic in a way. He had not spoken by word of mouth in the 153 pictures he did before this one, but each performance he had had a new face with a new voice and/or message each time (thus the title "man of a thousand faces"!). When he made this picture, however, the only real "voice" and "face" he had left, was his own voice! It was better than I expected. Chaney plays the same kind of character he did in pictures like "The Penalty" (1920) and, "The Ace of Hearts" (1921); a violent minded individual who is willing to go to any lengths for what he believes in or for love, even if it means doom for others around or working for him or for himself. There is much tension between the characters, but not as much as everyone seems to have with Tweedle-Dee. A circus midget is one thing (I have nothing against them), a circus midget with an attitude is another. JEEZE! The main reason why I like this picture so much is that it is an important record of a screen legend who was ready to step up, did, and succeeded immensely. It is also a reminder that you can never underestimate an actor, especially Lon Chaney. If you challenge an actor to do something you think they can't do, 9 out of 10 times, they will do it, do it well, show you up, and get RICH! PLENTY RICH!

This is a fine debut for a top & unique silent film star. Considering Chaney's vocal accomplishment in the early torturous sound on film system, one wonders how Chaney would have faired a few years down the road in films like The Invisible Man with only his voice and no face whatsoever. Lon barely was able to make this remake as he was suffering from advanced stages of throat cancer and it shows on his face throughout the film. His face is gaunt and withdrawn which only adds to the oddness of the story. Thalberg most likely gave the go ahead for Lon to remake his 1925 silent hit as it was popular with the public and after five years he would have been still familiar with the story. Thus learning lines would have come a lot easier to the suffering and ultimately dying Chaney. Sound actually improves the story somewhat and indicates the same circus environment that Chaney's director friend would make two years down the road in Freaks. Browning had actually made the silent Unholy Three and the script or scenario must have not gathered too much dust when director Jack Conway did this sound remake. But Conway & Chaney scored a 1930 triumph and it's a shame Chaney had to die on the cusp of it.