Out of the dozens of film events I’ve watched and listened to over the last few days I have fallen heavily for a couple in particular. The Fire Brigade (1926) restored by the Library of Congress was one of these. Revered British film historian Kevin Brownlow used clips from this film at the start of the first episode of his celebrated Hollywood TV series (1980) about the birth of the American studios…
“I had a challenge from the outset; how to persuade an audience which had contempt for silent films not to switch off. I took a risk…” explains Brownlow in his programme note for Monday’s screening, “… first I showed a rescue from a burning building, made at the beginning of cinema and symbolic of what people imagined all silent to be, and then I cut direct to the lush professionalism of MGMs The Fire Brigade, from the silent era at its peak. Yes, it was an outrageous thing to do, but I’ll guarantee that sequence with Charles Ray rescuing a baby from an inferno won us an audience – instantly.”
The film is a proto disaster movie – a close-knit team of fire fighters dedicate their lives to protecting the public in dire emergencies. Terry O’Neil is the youngest of three brothers in a family whose profession as firemen goes back three generations. Selfless, courageous and jovial the loveable O’Neils are a strong unit, anchored by the loving devotion of their widowed mother/daughter-in-law. Like The Towering Inferno (1974), Backdraft (1991) and any number of classic disaster movies, there is a corrupt, cost-cutting contractor behind the scenes. In this case a greedy so-called philanthropist whose close-fistedness has led him to skimp on building materials. For added pathos the building in question is an orphanage. Never fear, our hero valiantly earns his stripes by rescuing a curly headed baby from the raging flames but it’s a nerve-shredding ride. Horrific to realise that the genre tropes are not just the stuff of fiction and that next month will be the five-year anniversary of the Grenfell Tower fire in which 72 people died. The motto of SFSFF is “True art transcends time”… if only we were better at learning its lessons.
The film was a triumph and so was the musical accompaniment by Stephen Horne and Frank Bockius. I was utterly in thrall to their musical rendition of what was unfolding on screen… my hands were sweating as young Terry O’Neil prepares to jump hundreds of feet from the tower and I had a tear in my eye when he and his mother are recognised for their bravery – each emotional note beautifully struck. I am constantly amazed by their talent. The whole Castro theatre audience cheered at the moment of rescue and rose to their feet as one when the End title appeared, and Frank and Stephen took a bow. I felt very lucky to be there.
Since our first HippFest back in 2011 I have learned that a programme of carefully selected films is just the starting point for a proper festival. Without the magic moments that manifest between and around the films you might as well be scrolling through a playlist on Netflix. The succession of screenings becomes a festival when you add the fairy dust that makes the films fly… the special guests, the singular happenings, and the impromptu conversations.
My priceless moments at SFSFF 2022:
Finding myself in a conversation with Judy Wyler Sheldon (daughter of the great director William Wyler) who described being at the Trevi Fountain for her father’s film Roman Holiday in which she played the schoolgirl whose camera Gregory Peck tries to seize.
Hearing the collective gasp that went up when footage of Beach Boulevard appeared on screen in the premiere of the SFSFF restoration of the 4 minute San Francisco: The Golden Gate City (and hearing Daniel Handler – aka Lemony Snicket, Handler’s pseudonym for his children’s series A Series of Unfortunate Events – read the narration for this charming short).
Joining the audience cheer when Betty Balfour puts up her dukes to take on a group of boys tormenting a stray dog in A Sister of Six (1926).
Listening out for the spontaneous round of applause at any mention of 35mm or Kevin Brownlow, or at the first appearance in any given film of a much loved star: Diana Serra Cary (aka Baby Peggy), Erich von Stroheim, Louise Brooks, Clara Bow.
Getting the opportunity finally to ask Serge Bromberg why his cinematheque company is called Lobster… An in-joke confusion between the French words “angoisse” (anguish) and ”ecrevisse” (crayfish), which is clearly pretty random but has a brilliant pay-off as it gives Serge the opportunity to joke that he wished he had named it “fromage” so clients being taken for lunch would be inclined to make less costly menu selections.
Hearing the unmistakable eery sound of a musical saw, deployed by Anvil Orchestra for the accompaniment of The History of the Civil War (1921)… and in fact all the extraordinary accompaniment from the many musicians accompanying the films.
Standing with the Castro theatre audience as the Sascha Jacobsen Quintet played the Ukrainian National Anthem at the fundraiser screening of the Soviet Ukrainian film Arrest Warrant (1926).
Thanks to SFSFF for inviting me to experience the magic, and to Film Hub Scotland for supporting the trip with a bursary. This is a fabulous festival, and the pass is brilliant value, giving you access to all programmes. Do come if you get the chance but make sure to factor in some time on either side for sightseeing in the city because the programme is full and consistently tempting and you won’t want to miss anything.
What better way to sign off this blog with the intertitle words of Baby Peggy in The Kid Reporter “Run this story, and then fetch my favourite cocktail”!
My pictures don’t come anywhere close to doing justice to this glorious venue and the atmosphere so do go to the SFSFF social media channels for beautiful images by Pamela Gentile and others SF Silent Film Festival (@sfsilentfilm) • Instagram photos and videos
The Hippodrome Silent Film Festival 