Director: Irvin Willat
By Marilyn Ferdinand
When it comes to hoping against hope, silent film buffs are among cinema’s most starry-eyed dreamers. A perennial April Fool’s Day joke is that a print of the long-lost, lusted-after Tod Browning/Lon Chaney horror pic London After Midnight (1927) has surfaced in some dusty basement or other; I never cease to be amazed by how many people fall for that old chestnut year after year. Of course, who can blame them when discoveries like John Ford’s Upstream (1927) and Beyond the Rocks (1922), which features the only teaming of Gloria Swanson and Rudolph Valentino, actually do return from the presumed-lost list.
Speculation about the possible recovery of Behind the Door has been rampant for years. This war melodrama based on a wildly popular short story by Gouverneur Morris published in the July 1918 issue of McClure’s magazine—one of its Win-the-War issues—was a runaway success when it was released. Although the war was over, emotions were still running hot over the many casualties inflicted by the dreaded Hun. Behind the Door’s lurid revenge fantasy hit all the right buttons. Yet, like so many silent films, its popularity could not prevent it from fading from view. Only fragments from the estate of the film’s star, Hobart Bosworth, remained in the U.S. Library of Congress, and an export print said to be stored at Gosfilmofond, the Russian national archive, remained tantalizingly out of reach for decades. Happily, the fall of the Soviet Union and an attempt at a reconstruction by the Library in 1994 got the wheels turning on a proper restoration. Rob Byrne, film restorer and president of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, explains the process:
Film historian Robert Birchard lent his copy of director Irvin Willat’s original continuity script to help ensure that the reconstruction matched the original editing sequence and as a reference for the reel missing its English-language intertitles. The original color tinting scheme is also restored, based on analysis of the film leaders and the structure of the printing rolls. A new 35mm preservation negative and a print are now housed in the San Francisco Silent Film Festival Collection at the Library of Congress. Another 35mm print is also housed in the archives of restoration partner Gosfilmofond in Moscow.
The return of Behind the Door is a timely one, as American xenophobia has reared its ugly head once more.
The action takes place largely in flashback, as Captain Oscar Krug (Bosworth) returns to his decayed home and taxidermy business in Bartlett, Maine, an old and broken man. Chancing upon a blood-stained handkerchief covered in dust in his ruin of a shop, Krug casts his mind back to April 4, 1917, the day the United States declared war on Germany, a message delivered to the film audience by a telegraph operator who writes the message out as he receives it and runs outside to announce it to the townspeople going about their daily business. Almost at once, the crowd is ready to tar and feather anyone of German ancestry, starting with Krug.
Krug is a kind man who fixes a broken doll for a tear-streaked little girl and romances Alice Morse (Jane Novak), the banker’s daughter, much to her father’s displeasure. But when he is accused of being anti-American or a spy, Krug staunchly defends himself by reminding his detractors that his grandfather fought with Admiral Farragut (“Krug wasn’t too German then!”) and who himself fought with Commodore Dewey at Manila Bay during the Spanish-American War. Nonetheless, it takes a bloody donnybrook with Bill McTavish (James Gordon), “a sea-faring man” and harsh critic of Krug’s ancestry, to win the town over. Bygones being bygones, Krug and McTavish become best friends as they sign up to serve their country onboard the Perth. Alice, tossed out by her father when she tells him she married Krug, follows her husband to sea and stows away to be with him.
The acting in the first half of the film is broad, with Bosworth’s declamatory style and gestures exactly the kind of thing modern audiences tend to laugh at. The fight between him and McTavish, however, seems heart-racingly real, as the two men bleed, stumble, and fall quite convincingly. Although much more shocking to watch, it has the same effect as the extended fistfight in The Quiet Man (1952)—instilling harmony and respect between adversaries. Bosworth also tends to tone it down when playing opposite the more natural acting style of Novak, but the lurid story in which Bosworth finds himself may have convinced him to beat his points home with a baseball bat.
The second half of the film is what Behind the Door’s enduring reputation rests on. A horrifying series of events that sees two ships sunk, Alice and Krug cast away and down to their last drop of water, and criminality so shocking I wouldn’t dream of revealing it here makes for exciting and pitiable viewing. Krug’s nemesis, a U-boat captain named Brandt, is played with menacing villainy by Wallace Beery, and their confrontation on the deck of Brandt’s U-boat is genuinely chilling. Krug slips into a raging madness from that point forward, and put me in mind of Sweeney Todd in looks and demeanor. And perhaps unintentionally, the story seems to confirm that Hun-like behavior may be bred in the bone.
The restoration looks great and the score by Stephen Horne is superb. Although there is some uncorrectable damage near the beginning of the film and some short missing sequences that are filled with stills, they do nothing to detract from this exciting melodrama, which is now available on DVD/Blu-ray from Flicker Alley.