A lot of old movies work despite the fact they are silent. "The Big Parade" is unique to me in that it is hard to imagine it working so wonderfully if it wasn't a silent.
There's no gainsaying the greatness of silent comedies, like those of Keaton or Lloyd. Silent horror films like "Nosferatu" pack an eerie power. But dramas usually work for me when I can hear the actors talking. Not so "The Big Parade."
Here you see American soldier James Apperson (John Gilbert) and French farm girl Melisande (Renée Adorée) struggle to build a connection despite not speaking each other's language. With no sound, their pantomime becomes more engaging, more amusing, and cuts to the heart of what their relationship is about.
"I don't know a word you say," Apperson says, "but I know what you mean."
Watching Apperson's unit walk into action, we hear nothing but the tick-tock of a metronome, broken only by an odd pling of string whenever a flying bullet connects with one of his comrades. We see officers and non-coms give direction, but have no idea what they are saying. Everything about the battle is surreal.
Apperson's comrade, Cpl. Slim (Karl Dane), gives us the only hint of strategy: "We're gonna keep going' till we can't go no more."
"The Big Parade" is a film that draws on various tangents of wartime experience, from pathos to terror to humor. A long opening section has Apperson, Slim, and their buddy Bull (Tom O'Brien) bonding over mail calls and wine cellar raids. You are encouraged to relax and enjoy their company, but you pull back. It's like bonding with a puppy in a kennel you know you can't take home.
King Vidor makes a nearly perfect movie. There are slower stretches, and a late bout of overacting from Gilbert, but "The Big Parade" has a solidity to it that rewards watching over and over, a tough-nosed story buttressed by a clear sense of mission. At the same time Vidor avoids making too much of a Big Statement. His focus is on war's dislocation, not its folly.
Vidor based his film on a treatment by a World War I veteran, Laurence Stallings, for whom the emotional toll was at least as important as the physical. According to Jeffrey Vance's illuminating DVD commentary, Stallings was focused more on military life behind the lines. It's here the film pulls you in, before any violence sets in, with the cooties and the way the soldiers settle in to their new environment.
Gilbert is terrific to watch, whether he's walking around a village wearing a barrel or trying to teach Melisande how to chew gum. Usually love scenes kill a good war movie, but Gilbert and Adorée are such fine company you enjoy their lulls together. I don't know if Gilbert had a real issue with his voice when sound came in, or if its myth, but his scenes remind me of Norma Desmond's claim about the superiority of silents: "They had faces then."
If I had to recommend a silent movie to a person wary of them, and I didn't want to stack the deck with one of the great clowns or a horror film, I would choose this. It may not be the greatest silent movie, but "The Big Parade" draws upon the unique strengths of the form to create a multi-layered, involving entertainment that holds its value a hundred years later.
There's no gainsaying the greatness of silent comedies, like those of Keaton or Lloyd. Silent horror films like "Nosferatu" pack an eerie power. But dramas usually work for me when I can hear the actors talking. Not so "The Big Parade."
Here you see American soldier James Apperson (John Gilbert) and French farm girl Melisande (Renée Adorée) struggle to build a connection despite not speaking each other's language. With no sound, their pantomime becomes more engaging, more amusing, and cuts to the heart of what their relationship is about.
"I don't know a word you say," Apperson says, "but I know what you mean."
Watching Apperson's unit walk into action, we hear nothing but the tick-tock of a metronome, broken only by an odd pling of string whenever a flying bullet connects with one of his comrades. We see officers and non-coms give direction, but have no idea what they are saying. Everything about the battle is surreal.
Apperson's comrade, Cpl. Slim (Karl Dane), gives us the only hint of strategy: "We're gonna keep going' till we can't go no more."
"The Big Parade" is a film that draws on various tangents of wartime experience, from pathos to terror to humor. A long opening section has Apperson, Slim, and their buddy Bull (Tom O'Brien) bonding over mail calls and wine cellar raids. You are encouraged to relax and enjoy their company, but you pull back. It's like bonding with a puppy in a kennel you know you can't take home.
King Vidor makes a nearly perfect movie. There are slower stretches, and a late bout of overacting from Gilbert, but "The Big Parade" has a solidity to it that rewards watching over and over, a tough-nosed story buttressed by a clear sense of mission. At the same time Vidor avoids making too much of a Big Statement. His focus is on war's dislocation, not its folly.
Vidor based his film on a treatment by a World War I veteran, Laurence Stallings, for whom the emotional toll was at least as important as the physical. According to Jeffrey Vance's illuminating DVD commentary, Stallings was focused more on military life behind the lines. It's here the film pulls you in, before any violence sets in, with the cooties and the way the soldiers settle in to their new environment.
Gilbert is terrific to watch, whether he's walking around a village wearing a barrel or trying to teach Melisande how to chew gum. Usually love scenes kill a good war movie, but Gilbert and Adorée are such fine company you enjoy their lulls together. I don't know if Gilbert had a real issue with his voice when sound came in, or if its myth, but his scenes remind me of Norma Desmond's claim about the superiority of silents: "They had faces then."
If I had to recommend a silent movie to a person wary of them, and I didn't want to stack the deck with one of the great clowns or a horror film, I would choose this. It may not be the greatest silent movie, but "The Big Parade" draws upon the unique strengths of the form to create a multi-layered, involving entertainment that holds its value a hundred years later.