Florid in a Good Way: Herbert Brenon’s The Spanish Dancer (1923)

By Thomas Gladysz.

With a range of pictures to his credit – fantasies, adventure films, melodramas, historical epics – there are those who feel Brenon was a director without a defined, or at least a dynamic, style. There is truth to that assertion…. Adaptability, however, shouldn’t detract from an appreciation of Brenon’s many accomplishments.”

Is there a Herbert Brenon revival in the works? Perhaps.

Earlier this year, the noted film historian Frank Thompson published his long-in-the-works history, The Compleat Beau Geste. It is an in-depth, remarkable look at an early entertainment franchise, a franchise that began with P.C. Wren’s 1924 novel and its adaption into the hugely popular, widely acclaimed 1926 Brenon film, Beau Geste. My own book, The Street of Forgotten Men: From Story to Screen and Beyond, followed a few months later. It is a similar deep dive into the history of a single Brenon film, the 1925 underworld melodrama, The Street of Forgotten Men.

Now comes the Milestone Blu-ray release of The Spanish Dancer, a restoration of the 1923 costume drama starring Pola Negri and Antonio Moreno. This Brenon film is witty (and a bit tongue-in-cheek), full of action, gorgeous to look at, florid in a good way, and comes with huge sets and a cast of thousands.

If Brenon’s name is unfamiliar, his films should not be. Besides Beau Geste (1926), which won the Photoplay Medal of Honor – one of the industry’s first awards recognizing the best picture of the year, Brenon also directed Peter Pan (1924), a smash hit if ever there was one, The Great Gatsby (1926), the first adaption of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s era-defining novel of the Jazz Age, and Sorrell and Son (1927), which earned a Best Director nomination at the first Academy Awards. Brenon’s last silent was another signature effort, Laugh, Clown, Laugh (1928), starring the great Lon Chaney and the youthful Loretta Young.

For years, Brenon was considered alongside D.W. Griffith and Cecil B. DeMille as one of the silent era’s greatest directors. He directed his first film, a one-reeler, in 1911. Two years later, he directed a lavish four-reel Ivanhoe and an acclaimed two-reel Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He followed these successes with the seven-reel Neptune’s Daughter (1914), an elaborate fantasy starring swimmer Annette Kellerman that shattered attendance records. In 1915, Brenon directed Theda Bara in four features. A year later, he made War Brides, which marked the screen debut of theater great Alla Nazimova. Other significant early works include another Annette Kellerman vehicle, A Daughter of the Gods (1916) – from which his name was removed over a dispute with the studio, and Empty Pockets (1918).

It was in the 1920s, however, when Brenon hit his stride. The Spanish Dancer (1923), stands out, as do the two films characteristic of the “Brenon style” – Peter Pan and A Kiss for Cinderella (1925). Each were theatrical adaptions of J.M. Barrie fantasies, and each proved very, very popular. Brenon’s most accomplished dramatic effort is Beau Geste, starring Ronald Colman. (It was remade in 1939, starring Gary Cooper.) Besides The Street of Forgotten Men and the other films already mentioned – each of which were critical and commercial successes, Brenon’s other notable pictures include Dancing Mothers (1926), with Clara Bow, and Lummox (1930), based on the Fannie Hurst novel.

Brenon’s career began to fade in the early 1930s, but revived somewhat when he moved to England. There, he made a number of pictures at Elstree and other studios, including The Housemaster (1938). He completed his last film in 1940, and retired to a modest life in Hollywood. Tastes changed, and the sound era brought an end to the age of the imperious silent film director, of which Brenon was one. (For those keeping track, Erich von Stroheim was another.)

Though heroically restored (there is informative extra detailing the ‘before’ and ‘after’), the Milestone release of The Spanish Dancer is forgivably a little rough. At times, the film is a bit grainy and out of focus. And, there is some noticeable decomposition….”

“Twin films” is a term used for movies on the same subject released around the same time, such as Dr. Strangelove and Fail Safe in 1964, and Darkest Hour and Dunkirk in 2017. The Spanish Dancer, a Paramount production, is an early example of a twin production. June Mathis and Beulah Marie Dix adapted the story, which was based on a French play, Don Caesar de Bazan, which in turn was loosely based on a stage work by Victor Hugo. The twin to The Spanish Dancer was Rosita, a United Artists production directed by Ernst Lubitsch which starred Mary Pickford. It too was based on Don Caesar de Bazan, and it too was released in 1923.

The Spanish Dancer tells the story of Maritana, an alluring gypsy dancer in love with Don Cesar de Bazan, a penniless noble played by Antonio Moreno. Intrigue in the Spanish court arises when the King (played by future Oscar winner Wallace Beery) must decide whether to sign a treaty with France. His wife, Queen Isabel (Kathlyn Williams), advocates in favor but is opposed by Don Salluste (Adolphe Menjou), who conspires to sow discord between the royal couple. Meanwhile, Don Cesar is arrested for violating the king’s edict against dueling and is sentenced to die. Maritana pleads with the king to spare Don Cesar, but the king has designs on the “gypsy wench” and delays. The story reaches its climax when the king lures Maritana to a rendezvous at his hunting lodge. Don Cesar escapes and attempts Maritana’s rescue as the queen arrives to confront her husband.

If all this sounds melodramatic, it is, in an old-fashioned, romantic way. That was its virtue, and is today its charm. The Spanish Dancer is filled with swash & buckle. (The set and the costumes, especially the shoes, are exceptional.) Pola Negri is a passionate presence, a spitfire, and terrific in the role of the gypsy dancer. She carries the film, and is a joy to watch. Moreno is handsome and somewhat gregarious, but a little tepid when compared to Negri. Berry fits the royal role, and is himself a large presence. And Menjou, who was born to play seedy nobility, is perfect in the role of a conniving courtier. As Scott Eyman rightly points out in his informative commentary, both are scene stealers.

Brenon has deftly brought together these and other elements to make a notable film. Significantly, he employed cameraman James Howe, who would later be known as James Wong Howe. This is a gorgeous film to look at, and a good deal of its success can be attributed to Howe’s exceptional camerawork.

Surviving prints of The Spanish Dancer, a now 100-year-old film, include only incomplete or radically shortened versions. The longest surviving version was housed at the EYE Filmmuseum in the Netherlands, which had 64% of an original print. The EYE restoration effort (led by American film preservationist Robert Byrne) reconstructed and digitally restored the film based on material from EYE and three other European archives. As with the hiss and pop on mp3 recordings of old 78 rpms, I expect a certain amount of historical “texture” in viewing 100-year-old-films. For me, it is part of the silent film experience.

Though heroically restored (there is informative extra detailing the “before” and “after”), the Milestone release of The Spanish Dancer is forgivably a little rough. At times, the film is a bit grainy and out of focus. And, there is some noticeable decomposition, especially in the scenes set in the royal gardens. But still, it is very watchable and very enjoyable. The gold tinted scenes of revelry in the town square are especially well done – as conceived by Brenon and shot by Howe, and as restored by Byrne.

This restored version of The Spanish Dancer represents 95% of the film’s original continuity script, which also survives and was put to use in piecing this film back together. The restored version also “reframed” the pictured; it restored Brenon’s fluid editing, and revealed a fair amount of not only wit, but also tongue-and-cheek humor…. In filming this romantic epic, Brenon was gently poking fun at the genre.

With a range of pictures to his credit – fantasies, adventure films, melodramas, historical epics – there are those who feel Brenon was a director without a defined, or at least a dynamic, style. There is truth to that assertion. (In his commentary, Eyman calls it stylistic conservatism.) Adaptability, however, shouldn’t detract from an appreciation of Brenon’s many accomplishments. The Spanish Dancer is not his best film. That designation might go to one or another of his better-known works; take your pick…. But still, The Spanish Dancer is a fine achievement, and well worth having been released on Blu-ray.

Thomas Gladysz launched the embattled Louise Brooks Society website in 1995. He is the author of numerous articles on early film, as well as five books related to the life and films of the actress, Louise Brooks. Just out is The Street of Forgotten Men: From Story to Screen and Beyond. His next book, which he is currently working on and which he hopes to finish next year, is Lulu in America: The Lost History of Louise Brooks and Pandora’s Box.