#and she kept going no and telling me a lease is legally binding as if i didn't know that when i fucking signed the thing

[zipquips]

petition for my parents to stop thinking i'm unprepared and being stupid with the idea of getting a pet

[georgiastarss]

i’ve been stressed about signing a lease for an off campus apartment next year because my first semester in college kinda sucked and i considered transferring schools to be closer to home but this semester has been going much better and my roommate finally brought up the idea of finalizing our housing situation again but now i’m just even more stressed because my parents won’t pick a date to come co-sign the lease until i call and ask the leasing agent like five hundred questions and i’m afraid my roommate is frustrated with me because i kept putting it off until now and i can tell she’s stressed and i feel really bad and it also freaks me out that the contact is legally binding so if i change my mind for some reason i’m screwed

[angel5081]

After Review

I read this book forever ago and posted the review on my website, but I decided I would rather put my reviews for things on here for free than pay monthly for a website so here you go. Also the trailer I talk about is the teaser trailer. 

If you've read this book you either loved it or hated it. If you've only recently come across this book it's probably because you saw the trailer and you were interested. The trailer in question starts off with the main character Tessa telling you something that is meant to be profound, and it kept me watching so I guess it was doing something right. However, the trailer then shows you several steamy scenes between Tessa and her "love interest" Hardin with Ariana Grande's' Dangerous Woman playing in the background (if you're wondering why the trailer was so familiar rewatch the first Fifty Shades of Grey trailer only the Fifty Shades trailer was more interesting in my opinion). Speaking of Hardin, let's talk about that trainwreck. 

In the book, Hardin is a grade-A asshole. The more intimate his relationship with Tessa gets the more toxic and abusive he gets. He gets borderline aggressive when he sees Tessa even blink in another guys direction. He tricks her into signing a lease with him which not only binds them legally to an apartment but he also manages to isolate her from her friends in college by doing so. They fight all the time over the simplest things (I realize couples fighting isn't abusive, but Hardin blowing up when Tessa asks simple questions is). At the start of Tessa and Hardin's' relationship, the two were messing around behind Tessas' boyfriend Noahs back. When Tessa showed a willingness to break up with Noah for Hardin he makes fun of her and harshly reminds her he doesn't date. However, when she leaves him still asleep one morning after one of his drunken rampages Hardin storms into Tessas' dorm where Noah also happened to be and forced her to tell him what she and Hardin had been up to. Hardin blames Tessa constantly for the terrible way he acts and is quick to guilt her into not leaving him the second she shows any sort of resistance. That being said I almost feel bad for Hardin. Until he was ten years old he had to deal with an alcoholic father and witnessing his mother be raped by several men. That's enough to do severe damage to a growing mind. You would think something like that would keep someone away from anything self-destructive like that but that isn't always the case. However, I believe that a horrific past will never be an excuse for someone's toxic actions. 

Now I'm not here to simply pick apart Hardin's' toxic personality, I'm here to also pick apart Tessa’s. Tessa cries a lot and she keeps going back to Hardin even though she knows the lovey-dovey Hardin disappears the second Tessa says the wrong thing. Of course, going back to the abuser is easier than finding someone new. Especially after the abuser isolates you from friends and family (I don't really care about the family part because Tessa's mom was abusive in her own way). The part that annoys me is that every time Tessa acts like she really doesn't want to be around Hardin anymore she goes right back to him the second he's angry and drunk. She is warned several times by her friends and even Hardin himself that he will hurt her and in Hardin's words he will "Ruin her." She was very paranoid about Hardin cheating on her if the "slut" (lord help us) of the story was even in the same building as Hardin. More on that later.  

Like Hardin, you could say Tessa’s personality could be because of her childhood as well. Like Hardin, Tessa grew up with an alcoholic father until she was ten. Then she grew up groomed to have the perfect life as an adult. The perfect career, the perfect husband, and the perfect attitude. If anything was less then perfect her mother would criticize Tessas' actions or appearance. That is enough to make anyone willing to do whatever it takes to please other people. It also made Tessa a bit of a control freak at times. This is also why Tessa feels the need to constantly think insulting things about the way other female characters dress, act, and overall present themselves. So much for Girl Love. 

Something that I would like to touch on briefly is the use of Tessa’s full name Theresa. When Hardin first calls Tessa Theresa she tells the reader that the name Theresa reminds her of her father whom we later learn was an alcoholic. Hardin, despite saying he doesn't drink at the beginning of the book proves otherwise. He is continuously getting drunk because of Tessa (or so he says). He calls her Theresa just like her father did which allows us to draw parallels between the two men. There are two reasons why I only wanted to mention this subject briefly. One being that Tessa’s father is not blamed for the reason behind Tessas' dislike for the name in the Wattpad addition. The second reason is that later Tessa tells Hardin that only "family and friends" can call her Theresa. So either that was a mistake on Anna Todd's part or Tessa just wanted to remind Hardin that he was neither at first because she does let him call her Theresa later on. 

Alright now onto the topic of slut-shaming. Like most books originating from Wattpad there was, of course, our "slut" or as I like to say "girl who was sleeping with a guy before the main character appeared and now all the sudden she's expected to back off". The character in question goes by the name of Molly. Of the little group of "friends" Tessa finds herself involved with, Molly is the character that will sleep with any guy in the story including Hardin. Molly sleeping around isn’t something I take issue with, it's the fact that Tessa and Steph (Molly's friend and Tessas' roommate) continuously slut-shame her for sleeping around with Hardin when he never stated that he and Tessa were exclusive and when it's known that Hardin sleeps around with whoever he wants. Of course, he doesn't get shamed for it through. Tessa is only ever warned that that is something he just does. Which is totally an ok thing to do if you have a little extra between your legs.

Then, of course, the big plot twist at the end of the book (not the Wattpad version) is that Tessa and Hardin’s entire relationship was based on a bet Hardin and every member of this “friend” group made. The bet was started because at the beginning of the book Tessa had mentioned being a virgin despite having a longtime boyfriend. So the race was on between Hardin and Zedd (a character I actually liked) to see who could take Tessa’s virginity first. The icing on the cake is that whoever takes Tessa’s virginity has to have proof, which in Hardin’s case are some bloody sheets and a used condom. Disgusting to say the least. To keep Tessa from finding out about the bet Hardin convinces everyone to keep their traps shut and even went so far as to get into a fight with Zedd. Despite Hardin’s noble efforts, Tessa does find out because she goes to meet up with Steph and finds everyone else there too. Molly leads the group in forcing Hardin to spill the beans. And because Tessa has some sense, after all, she wants out of the relationship. For some psychotic reason, Hardin thought that if the two lived together Tessa would be alright with the fact that their relationship was based off a bet. Like he genuinely believed that as long as they were living together in an apartment where both of their names were on the lease Tessa would be like “LOL this kind of thing happens all the time so of course, I’ll stay with you.” How delusional do you have to be?

I want to point out that this book was (according to the Kindle app on my table) 585 pages. That’s a pretty beefy book for its genre. What’s ridiculous though is that there are three more books in the series PLUS a fourth prequel book that is told by Hardin (an engrossing read I’m sure). I could understand two books in a series and then maybe a prequel but anything more kind of just feels a little unnecessary. I’m also very curious as to how on earth this book is going to be a successful movie. I think it could be if they get rid of the slut-shaming and Hardin’s entire personality. As in making him a lot less crazy. Keep his tragic childhood and maybe even his drinking problems, but leave the manipulation and if-a-guy-even-looks-at-Tessa-I’ll-break-his-face attitude in the book. I don’t mind a little bit of protectiveness in a relationship, but damn that was not it sis.

I might read the second book just to see how long Tessa stays mad at Hardin (if it’s for the same amount of time as the thousands of times she was mad at him in After I’m guessing they’ll be back together by Chapter Three). The only way this series could get any better would be if Tessa and Hardin get some therapy as individuals and then maybe some as a couple.

What did you think about the book? Do you think Tessa will hold out on Hardin until Chapter Three or will she gain some kind of self-respect and get a restraining order? Feel free to comment your thoughts below!  

[melforbes]

before the gunfire

He had a mental points system for their homemade dinners, a way to gauge whether or not a dish was good enough to make again: four points for each clean plate, a point for a little mmm she could give throughout the meal, two points for every line of inquiry about the spices, broths, et cetera. So far, he’d tallied up five points - three moans and an are there Herbs de Provence in this? - before he’d even managed to try each of the vegetables in the dish, so unfortunately, a challenging, time-consuming braised beef was going in the to make again category. Sometimes, he loved being boastful about how he knew his way around their rickety-and-then-redone kitchen, but other times, he wondered why he didn’t just fire up the grill, throw on some chicken breasts, and call it a day instead.

“Do you remember a couple of Easters ago, when Bill’s kids weren’t in high school yet?” she asked, half of her attention on him and the other half on the pumpkin, carrots, and butternut squash on her plate. “Mom made braised beef, but she did it with potatoes instead.”

“I do,” he said. That Easter, while Bill and Mulder had washed and dried dishes as the children, under the command of enough Scully women to keep candy consumption to one piece per kid, Bill had asked Mulder if he actually planned on marrying his sister or if they were - verbatim - some kind of those modern types. Though Mulder instinctively wanted to gloss over the matter, to say oh, we’ve spoken about it, yes, yes, it’s certainly a conversation, he instead told the truth and, miraculously enough, received Bill Jr.’s blessing, regardless of how unnecessary, unneeded, or unsought that had happened to be. Mulder couldn’t forget that Easter if he tried. “It was delicious.”

“It was a bit greasy,” Scully said, then glanced to him with a soft smile.

What was that, a halfway-backhanded compliment, a jab at the traditional heirloom known as her mother’s classic recipes, a way to tell him that their Wednesday night after-work dinner outdid any and all holiday fare? That had to be at least three points.

“This is delicious,” she repeated. “Local vegetables, I assume?”

A compliment and an inquiry. Three points. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Had to make the most of the season.”

With you, he didn’t say. They’d skipped strawberry season because of their separation, raspberry season because of the end of the world, and nearly even apple season because one or both of them had been too sick to merit a trip to a you-pick orchard. After a whirlwind of a summer, all of it in retrospect seeming to be only a confusing blur, he wasn’t going to let pumpkin and squash season go to waste, and he wasn’t going to pass up handing out candy at the local library with her on Halloween, and he wouldn’t dare miss a chance to have a real Thanksgiving with his family, a genuine one in which he taught his son how to carve a turkey while Scully laughed at the other end of the table, her two boys surely making a mess. Nowadays, with you was more than just possible; it was probable, and it was impending, and if the changing leaves outside and the woman sharing a delicious, challenging dinner with him hadn’t already made his heart full, he would feel himself grow blissful now.

“Speaking of,” she said with her mouth full, and to himself, he smiled; the best of Dana Scully’s traits, he found, were the societally uncouth but wholly human ones that she showed very few people, mannerless chewing and beer pong tenacity and a monthly subscription to a women’s website about finding the perfect orgasm all included, “my lease ends on the first of next month.”

He felt the creaky house still, the kitchen light overhead fall heavily upon them, the world grow more vivid in an overstimulated kind of way; he was suddenly aware of the way she held her fork, her nails well-kept but unpainted, the skin of her arms soft against that purple tee shirt that had been sitting in the dresser here for weeks. When was the last time he’d had a bowl of fruit on the table? Last month, they’d managed to start grocery shopping together again, and suddenly, there was a bowl of fruit on the table even though Dana Scully, a scientist who must understand plant hormones, should have known better than to mix bananas with apples, and her breakfast teas were back in the pantry, her favorite blanket hung back against the couch, her library books stacked on her bedside table. He’d stopped spreading his clothes throughout the closet and had started letting it seem half-empty so that she wouldn’t feel odd about hanging her scrubs in there, and what had started out as a drawer for her pajamas and spare clothes had turned into a spot for everything, from running headbands to pantiliners to some of his things that had gone missing since she’d left. Even now, a pile of toys for her dog sat on the couch, and the pooch was sleeping soundly in the office, glad to be away from the city for - Mulder counted - eleven consecutive days now. 

“Okay,” he said. Because she had been the one to leave, she needed to be the one who chose to come back; he refused to coach her through this conversation, one heavy with meaning but light with words. 

“I was thinking,” she said slowly, absentmindedly moving her fork around her near-empty plate, “that I wouldn’t renew.”

Meeting her gaze, he nodded with objectivity. “It’s your choice.”

He watched as her lips turned down, an awkward look on her face; she stared at her plate, her emotions akin to a rejection reaction. 

“Is that something you’d want as well?” she asked with quiet trepidation. 

A big conversation. If a meal can’t distract one from the real world, then is it a proper meal at all? Minus fifteen points.

“Yes,” he said sincerely. “But it’s ultimately your choice.”

“I won’t renew, then.”

“You don’t have to-”

“The whole kitchen is already packed up.” She went back to eating as though nothing had happened. “Not much is in my closet there anyway.”

It was odd, how he only nodded while they both let the conversation slip away, as though it hadn’t had any gravity toward them. Though he could still see the grain of the table with alarming clarity, his awareness still heightened, he also found that he wasn’t surprised by the turn of events, had practically expected that topic to come along at some point. In movies, he always saw the biggest milestones of life portrayed as exciting surprises - marriage proposals, promotions, watching your team win the World Series - but he’d found that all of the pivotal moments of his life were dull and normal, nothing in comparison to their aftermath. Back when they hadn’t been together, the concept of Dana Scully asking to move in with him would’ve made him concoct a fantasy in which, all of the sudden, they were in a whirlwind of romance and excitement, pawning off furniture and making the best of a mismatched living room, the askance followed by him lifting her up and twirling her around while she kissed his cheek. However, when he thought now of those milestones, he found comfort in the expectation, in that there were eventualities he could count on. When - and he did use when for this, not if - he asked her to marry him, not even with a for tax breaks cop-out but because he’d never found someone else with whom legal binds made him feel near euphoria instead of despair, he knew the askance would never be a surprise, but afterward, watching her admire a ring, seeing her in white because Dana Scully loved to honor such traditions, he knew he’d feel such wonder that he would refuse to let those moments go. Who needed brash transitions anyway, especially when dinners with Dana Scully felt this good?

Two clean plates. Four points each, but recovering from the earlier demerit would be a challenge. Reaching out, she went for his plate, was going to wash the dishes, but he stopped her, his hand coming over hers, and softly, he set their joined hands down on the table, looked up at her, tried to read what was on her mind.

“I’m really glad you’re coming back,” he gave softly, sincerely, reassuringly.  

She brought her other hand over top of his, looked down at her fingers. Then, she smiled, said, “Me too.”

Leaning forward, he went to kiss her in the casual way they always used to do, a brief post-dinner thank you regardless of who cooked, and just as her eyes closed, just as their lips were about to meet, he heard the sound of a car engine, so he tensed, waited, and surely enough, the sound persisted, came closer.

“Shit,” he said, then stood quickly, their tangled hands falling apart.

Opening her eyes with dumbfounded surprise, she watched as he headed for the window nearby, followed him uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, but as she met him at the window, she saw a Suburban quickly approaching, the long driveway stalling it but not for long.

“You didn’t-”

“No, of course not,” Mulder said, then took her hand again, pulled her away from the window. “Where’s your piece?”

“It’s, um,” she stammered, “my bag, it’s in my bag. I didn’t have a chance to-”

“Mine’s upstairs,” he said, then headed upstairs, out of sight, all while the car parked outside.

She tried to make out the shapes of the people in the car, and though she could see a few men, she couldn’t recognize their faces, her heart pounding all the while. Next to the coat rack, her bag sat, so she pulled out her safety-on glock, looked back and forth for a hiding spot, felt all of her tactical training fall away while her gaze drifted back to the staircase. She couldn’t hear Mulder anymore.

This can’t be happening again, she thought, then managed to pull herself into the office, hiding behind the half-open door. The dog, stirred from its sleep, stared up at her with sad little eyes; she closed her own.

Is God listening? she asked herself, and even though she figured the answer was no, she still asked grant me strength as she heard the locked front door break open.

[moviessilently]

A rare Lubin feature film about a young woman who goes west and ends up being forced to marry an alcoholic mine owner. Based on a smash hit play from the same era, this film was hailed as one of Lubin’s best.

I will also be reviewing the 1929 remake with Dorothy Mackaill, Ian Keith and Myrna Loy. Click here to skip to the talkie.

Home Media Availability: Not currently available.

Go west, young woman

An enormous thanks to Martyn Stevens for generously granting permission to review this rare print from his collection.

A few disclaimers before getting started: While I consider myself to be a reasonably tough reviewer, I do try to give movies a fair shake and not draw the knives without cause. This movie has given me cause. You’ll see what I mean as the review progresses but this is fair warning that I will be hitting below the belt. This picture deserves nothing less and, frankly, if the hero had been hit below the belt a bit more, a good deal of trouble could have been saved.

This is our hero, by the way.

Even though I did not care for the picture, I am thrilled to have this opportunity to review it because I have been dying to get my hands on later Lubin work. So, again, Mr. Stevens has my gratitude.

Siegmund Lubin was among the first independent filmmakers to rival the Edison film production unit and his brash, sleazy films and ripoffs have raised eyebrows ever since. While he eventually allied with Edison and joined the Motion Picture Patents Company, Siegmund Lubin remains a quirky figure in film history. His company didn’t survive the transition to features but his technical knowhow saved the future Paramount from ruin.

America’s greatest play? Look, I know we’ve made mistakes but I’ll be hanged if I take responsibility for this! (Beautiful typography, though.)

That’s not to say that no Lubin features were produced. The company tried to keep up with audience tastes but was eventually forced into bankruptcy in 1916. The Great Divide was released at the very end of 1915 and was hailed as one of the finest productions Lubin had ever created.

Just so you know, I will be spoiling the heck out of this thing. Content and trigger warnings in place. Let’s do this.

Look out, guys, she’s gazing heavenward!

Like all good westerns, the film opens in Massachusetts. Ruth Jordan (Ethel Clayton) has decided that she and her brother (Hayden Stevenson) will head out to Arizona to seek their fortune. They are accompanied by sister-in-law Polly (Mary Moore) and Dr. Winthrop Newberry (Warner Richmond), who has an awful crush on Ruth. Of course, as we all know, nobody with a name like Winthrop Newberry stands a chance of winning a heroine’s heart.

So, our merry band of Massachusites head west (the film was shot on location) and Ruth thinks it’s all marvelous. If only she could find a rough and unpolished man. Well, in the proud tradition of Monkey Paw wishes, Ruth’s is about to be granted.

Did I hear “a violent alcoholic?”

One night, Ruth is left alone at the house. Three drunks break into the house, overpower Ruth and resolve to shoot dice for “Exclusive rights to love, honor and cherish ‘til we’re tired of her.” Ruth appeals to the least ugly drunk, Steven Ghent (House Peters), promising to marry him if he will save her from the others. Ghent agrees, buys off one man with a necklace of gold nuggets and shoots the other dead.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

What’s that? They don’t? What kind of joint is this?

Okay, fine. Sigh.

Our hero. Let that sink in. Our hero.

Ghent makes Ruth write a note saying that she has gone off to marry the man she loves and then he takes her to a frontier minister who ties the knot. And then it’s off to Ghent’s cabin, located conveniently atop the Grand Canyon. When Ruth locks him out of the bedroom, he declares that he married her and paid for her, so he owns her to do with as he sees fit.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

They STILL don’t? You have got to be kidding me.

Our. Hero. Hero. Ours. Our. Hero.

Ruth learns how to weave baskets and she works to earn money to buy herself back from Ghent. (Um, it’s not legally binding, she does know that, right? Ruth really hasn’t two brain cells to rub together, does she?) Ghent goes to town, gets drunk, returns to the cabin and forces himself on his wife.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

Oh, you cannot be serious. Who shoots him in the face? You can tell me. Nobody EVER? What kind of nonsense is this movie?

Ruth doesn’t like to be kidnapped. Spoilsport!

He’s totally sorry the next day and promises he is a reformed man, said EVERY ABUSER EVER. Will Ruth find (gag) “love” with her kidnapper and abuser? Will she return east? Will she sell more baskets than anyone? Those questions are answered in The Great Divide.

Okay, you can see why I have problems with this, right? And if anyone questions the tales of abuse told by actresses, this movie is a prime example of why I believe them.

The plot is essentially The Sheik with a smelly bum in the lead. Now The Sheik is obviously problematic but it has kitsch to soften the blow, for better or worse. In this film, the grit and realistic settings just make it so, so, so much more awful.

Hide all the breakable objects, Ruth is posing again.

The leads of The Great Divide contribute to its problems. Ethel Clayton is beautifully photographed and gets kudos for her subtle makeup but her performance is just the sort of thing trotted out to make fun of silent films. Clayton does not act so much as glide from one pose to another, always playing to the cheap seats. There’s lots of gazing heavenward, flailing of arms, that sort of thing. Clayton is not helped by the fact that her character is a complete nincompoop but I would have preferred less thrashing about.

Our hero. Our big, strong hero.

I am not the biggest House Peters fan in the world. He plays his parts with this irritating “Look, ma, I’m in pictures!” grin and displays very little range beyond it. Reviewers of the time politely remarked that he does crank his drunk scenes up to a rather exaggerated degree. I would go further and say that he plays them like a slapstick drunk.

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This may sound strange but my biggest problem with House Peters as an actor is his hands. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with them. In The Captive, he just kept them shoved in his pants, which was weird but I was willing to forgive because it was Blanche Sweet’s movie and he was just there as eye candy. In the case of The Great Divide, Peters keeps his elbows bent and his wrists limp, looking not unlike someone who has just soaped up their hands to wash but has discovered that the running water is on the blink. Or maybe he thinks he’s a kangaroo. I can’t imagine what it’s supposed to mean and must conclude he was just a peculiar man giving a peculiar performance.

The supporting cast is better. Mary Moore easily has the best part in the picture as Polly and she plays it for all its worth. While the leads are making dramatic pronouncements and striking poses, Polly says things like this:

In 1915, Polly would have come across as the comedy relief but to modern viewers she’s the voice of reason. I kind of love her. Is it too late to get our heroines swapped?

I feel you, Polly.

Warner Richmond, probably best remembered by silent film fans as Richard Barthelmess’s big brother in Tol’able David, does good work as Ruth’s rejected suitor. I mean, the character needed to take a hint but Richmond plays him well, with subtly and no weird kangaroo hands. A low hurdle, to be sure, but one worth mentioning.

And now we have to talk about the rather distressing story. With the exception of lopping off the third act, the film follows the play closely. We get everything from soup to nuts to rape. Oh goody gumdrops. Reviews of 1915 and 1916 did not phrase it quite like this, of course, and chose instead to focus on the scenery, and what they called powerful themes and an unusual romance. Um, that’s a bit of an understatement.

What a prude!

The worst part is how everybody gingerly steps around the pachyderm in the parlor to this day. Here is how the Encyclopedia Britannica describes the story: “A prose play about conflict between eastern U.S. puritanism and the individualism of the western frontier.”

Okay, let’s start from the top, Britannica. Not wanting to be raped is not generally classified as being puritanical, just so you know. And if this is western individualism, I am packing my bags for Connecticut immediately.

Britannica: Women, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t find them sometimes.

Normal Person: I hope to spend an evening in my own home and not become the victim of a violent crime.

Britannica: Oh, where’s your sense of humor? You’re no fun anymore!

At least my faith in humanity was restored slightly by a review of a revival in the New York Times:

“A more obscure 1906 melodrama that provides a new set of clichéd characters who, at their best, are intriguing reflections of a changing nation… Because the play is crudely drawn and clumsily plotted, its chief value might be as a cultural artifact.”

Amen!

Look, I’m all for twisted romance. Heck, The Forty-First is one of my favorite movies. But the characters have to behave like actual human beings, okay? Ruth’s bizarre acceptance of the “bargain” she made with Ghent strains audience suspension of disbelief to the breaking point and beyond.

Deals with home invaders are null and void. This is basic stuff.

Let me put this another way. If the heroine’s house was broken into and the burglars threatened to burn it down unless she signed the lease over to them at a lawyer’s office the next day, she would definitely be smart to go along with the plan but she would be nuts if she actually signed the house over in front of witnesses. “I have to keep my word!” has no power if the promise is extracted through threats of violence. This is, like, Promises 101 stuff.

Not only does Ruth sign the marriage license when she is among people who could have helped her, she also accepts that her value is a string of nuggets. Um, I believe the 13th Amendment is a thing. A war was fought about it, is this ringing any bells?

In short, the characters act like characters in a play and not like any normal human beings who ever walked the earth.

Actual dialogue from the play. I can’t even. I hope Ruth gets indigestion.

I should give the film credit for toning down the character of Ruth a bit. In the original 1906 play by William Vaughn Moody, she is so smug and superior that I was rooting for Polly to haul off and slug her by the end of the first scene. She’s still annoying in the film but it’s more of the typical “Ooo, look at the tree! Look at the flower! I must swing my arms and prance!” kind of thing, pretty common in silent films.

As stated above, the play also has a third act in which Ruth does leave Ghent and return east but (spoilers for a place released eleven decades ago) decides he is absolutely marvelous for sending her mother money. For somebody who declares that she cannot be bought, Ruth is certainly happy to accept cash once it passes through an intermediary. Obviously, Ruth doesn’t deserve the horrors that the play visits on her but let’s just say that I would not be sorry to see her stub her toe in the night.

The Great Divide, based on a movie, based on a play! (Anthony P. Kelly wrote the screenplay.)

Oh well, I suppose it’s better than the tie-in short story by Norman Bruce published in Motion Picture Magazine. That bit of deathless prose features descriptions like “gallant girl-person” and “woman thing.” Gollum, is that you and how did you come to be hired by Motion Picture Magazine?

Gallant girl-person, precious, we loves them, we does.

The movie has its flaws but it definitely could have been worse.

So, there you have it. The Great Divide is a rare surviving Lubin feature and while the story is not at all to my taste, I am very glad to have had an opportunity to see it and to research a forgotten bit of early twentieth century American pop culture. I can’t say that I recommend it for pleasure viewing but it is interesting all the same.

Where can I see it?

Not presently available on home video but I will let everyone know if it ever becomes available.

I know what you’re thinking. “Sure, The Great Divide was pretty tacky but at least Hollywood moved onto more sophisticated fare during the studio era.”

About that…

Home Media Availability: Released on DVD.

The Great Divide was remade in 1925 (a copy is presently held in a Swedish archive) and again in 1929 as a talkie. It was remade once more in Technicolor in 1931 and given the eyebrow-raising title of Woman Hungry. I’m tackling the 1929 version today because it’s the one on DVD. I’m not sure it was such a great decision.

Poor, poor, poor Myrna Loy.

While the 1925 version and the 1931 version both follow the play reasonably closely, the 1929 version goes its own way and makes up its own plot. Given the horrors of the play, I would normally be in favor of this but the new 1929 plot is just as disturbing. What it lacks in sexual harassment, it makes up for with racism.

Steven Ghent (Ian Keith, who was Mr. Ethel Clayton when this film was released) is a mine owner who has been supporting his late partner’s daughter in New York for years. He remembers her as a kid but kids do have a way of growing up.

Oh yeah, totally not interested at all.

Ghent is the object of affection and obsession for Manuela (Myrna Loy, still in her exotic vamp period) and while he doesn’t say yes, he doesn’t exactly say no either. The film tries to portray this as honorable when it’s really eye-rolling.

Anyway, that kid back east, Ruth Jordan, is now played by Dorothy Mackaill and she is a sassy flapper who can knock back a cocktail and loves to dance. The screenwriters (all men) hope to convince us that she is the wild spawn of Satan and Everything Wrong With Young People These Days. To me, she comes off as a perfectly normal young woman whose idea of a wild time is stopping off at a fiesta and having a cocktail sometimes. Is this the direct 1920s equivalent of those “Millennials are killing…” articles? I think so. No word yet as to whether or not Ruth eats avocado toast.

One of those awful flappers in her cloche.

Ruth stops off at that fiesta, makes a few racist remarks, casually calls for genocide and runs into Ghent. He affects a Mexican accent and pretends to be a bandit. At least I think it’s supposed to be a Mexican accent. It could have been Irish, Russian or Cambodian for all I know.

He follows Ruth and her friends (including silent veteran Creighton Hale, who plays her fiancé) into a bar where he is persuaded to sing a song. Now Ian Keith actually could sing but you’d never know it from this film. Keith’s lipsyncing is so bad that I kept waiting for some kind of punchline, like wheeling out a gramophone or something. But no, this is supposed to be his real voice.

Ghent better not get on Manuela’s bad side or she might sing another song.

If that wasn’t enough, Manuela sidles up and sings a seductive song to get Ghent’s attention. Myrna Loy does a better job of lipsyncing but the song…

Actual lyrics: One dance with me, Si Si senor. One chance with me, Si Si senor.

Ugh. Please explain to me again how talkies won because I am still a bit baffled.

Live by the goofy accent, die by the goofy accent. Ghent deserved what he got.

Anyway, Ghent is ogling, which makes Ruth jealous and then he romances her (still with the terrible accent, mind you) and she starts to fall for him. But then he is exposed as being an American, Ruth is like “What the heck?” and then heckles him for being a dweeb (fair).

And then Ghent discovers that Ruth is really the daughter of his late partner and he gets angry. He storms into her train car, declares that she is promiscuous, shouts at her for drinking and smoking and generally comes off as a pompous, prudish ass. Kids these days, amiright?

Ruth’s expression is exactly what mine was at this point in the film.

So, he kidnaps her, a mature reaction. What follows is your typical Teach the City Girl a Lesson cliché stuff. Fear of wild animals, sore feet, the whole enchilada. Let’s see, drag someone out into the wilderness, frame yourself as their protector, regulate every aspect of their existence. Yep, sounds like a recipe for Stockholm Syndrome to me.

And, of course, our young lady changes her tune about Ghent after another session of insultingly incompetent lipsyncing. Seriously, grade school kids manage to lipsync convincingly, it’s pretty darn easy.

I suppose I shouldn’t reveal the ending, though a reasonably intelligent sea sponge can see it coming.

At least SOMEONE can act in this joint.

The cast is pretty mixed. Ian Keith clearly has no idea what to do with Ghent but Dorothy Mackaill is able to bring a little charisma to the table. It’s a thankless role as the Straw Flapper who symbolizes the excesses of her generation (a cocktail before bed, the minx!) but she does what she can.

Poor Myrna paying her dues.

Roles like Manuela were par for the course at this point in Myrna Loy’s career. Her sharp comedic timing had not yet been discovered and she was still being wasted in clichéd vamp parts. There’s always a certain amount frustration in watching Loy at this point. It’s like seeing a fully qualified lawyer being obliged to serve coffee.

And the winner is..

The Talkie

I want to be clear that this was a race to the bottom. Both films are deeply disturbing, the 1915 version because it glamorizes rape and the 1929 version because it glamorizes an abusive, paternalistic relationship and embraces Stockholm Syndrome.

Basically, this is a contest between stylized nastiness and something that can and does happen in the real world. Neither option is particularly savory.

The 1929 version also gets some points for most excellent hats.

But a winner must be chosen and so I will say that the 1929 version wins because Dorothy Mackaill is a good actress. She deserved better but she gives this silly, dangerous film much more than it deserves. Incidentally, after her film career ended, Mackaill spent the rest of her life in Hawaii. Good for her!

The talkie does suffer from set-bound sequences and rather fakey scenery, along with some painful from Lucien Littlefield as a singing cowboy but I think Mackaill’s performance makes up for it.

Singing cowboys AND bad lipsyncing? Oh swell.

I don’t like the Code one little bit but I must grudgingly admit that I am grateful that it saved us from further remakes of The Great Divide.

***

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The Great Divide (1915) A Silent Film Review A rare Lubin feature film about a young woman who goes west and ends up being forced to marry an alcoholic mine owner.