Some stories are so perfectly symmetrical you just have to sit back in amazement and feel that the universe is truly some magical Rubik’s Cube.
I am blessed to live in a location that affords me the opportunity to see silent films on the big screen with live accompaniment (usually by the there-are-no-words-to-describe-his-majesty Ben Model). This month’s offering: the fabled Queen Kelly from 1929, starring Gloria Swanson and directed by Erich Von Stroheim.
Here’s the story: By 1928, director Erich Von Stroheim had worn out his welcome at MGM and was looking for work. Gloria Swanson had left Paramount and was producing her own films. She had one success with Sadie Thompson and a miss with The Loves of Sunya. When Von Stroheim proposed a story of middle European royalty and romance, Swanson and her financial backer (and paramour) Joseph Kennedy said “yes.” She knew the risks with the excessive auteur, but she also knew the rewards. Films like The Merry Widow and Foolish Wives, both big Von Stroheim hits, were similar to her story, known as Queen Kelly. Swanson and Kennedy were confident they could control the director. Ah, hubris.
The Swanson/Von Stroheim collaboration resulted in an aborted and fascinating film. Welcome to Kronberg, a mythical middle European country ruled by the mad, sex-crazed, booze- and drug-loving Queen Regina V. She is betrothed to playboy Prince Wolfram (conjuring any images with that name?). He has no interest in the nutty queen, but she is just mad about the boy. As a punishment for his roving eye, she sends her man out on maneuvers. But Wolfram makes lemonade out of lemons and spots a lovely convent school girl out for a stroll with the rest of her class. Their eyes meet, her pants fall down and they fall in love. Wolfram goes to great lengths to extract little Kitty Kelly from the convent (almost burning it down), abducting her and ultimately spending the night with her in the Queen’s castle.
Our nutty monarch does not like this and runs poor Kitty out of the castle, whipping her until she flees out into the streets. Wolfram is thrown into prison and Kitty, once back with the nuns, learns that her aunt in German East Africa has sent for her.
It turns out Auntie runs a whorehouse (one particularly tubercular prostitute is named Coughdrops) and has promised her niece’s hand in marriage to the most disgusting old man you have ever seen. Kitty resists, but ultimately gives into the wedding, and the union takes place over the Aunt’s deathbed. This is where the filming stopped. The story goes that Von Stroheim ordered Tully Marshall (the disgusting old man) to drool tobacco juice on Swanson’s hand as he took it in matrimony. That was it for glorious Gloria, and she had Kennedy can the director.
Swanson attempted to salvage the film, but the fates were not on her side. Not only did she have to contrive a suitable ending that would pass the censors, it was already 1929 and talking pictures had arrived. Eventually, Swanson was able to show a bastardized version of the film in Europe and South America (her ending had the virtuous Kitty ending it all rather than submit to a life of debauchery). It had a musical score and a song by Swanson was thrown in for good measure.
The film I saw was one that was restored by Kino International. Using stills and heavy text in-between to tell the story, it recreated Von Stroheim’s original scenario: Kitty Kelly becomes a rich and powerful madam of her aunt’s string of whorehouses and she is known as Queen Kelly for her extravagant lifestyle. Wolfram does not marry the nutty queen, who dies, and eventually he brings his heart’s desire, Queen Kelly, back to his kingdom.
Well, what can you say? Seena Owen, as the mad queen, is a knockout of rabid sex and screwball eyeballs. Walter Byron was a dashing prince and Tully Marshall as the disgusting groom is – well – disgusting. As for Swanson – oh what a delicious little minx she was! That nose! She is cute, funny, touching and sexy.
Enter Billy Wilder with his script for 1950’s Sunset Boulevard. It is hard to believe that he ever wanted to cast anyone other than Swanson (allegedly, Wilder approached Pola Negri, Mae West and Norma Shearer before Swanson. Co-writer Charles Brackett said Swanson was always the first choice). As Norma Desmond, Swanson is now the mad (silent screen) queen, chasing the chosen lady love of her obsession out of her “castle.” She, too, is mad about the boy (she even gives William Holden’s Joe Gillis a gold cigarette case with that little engraved message). One of the movies they watch together is none other than Queen Kelly. But, at last Gloria, Kitty Kelly and Norma get their revenge: Von Stroheim is now the butler (Max) and she actually gets to shoot the faithless lover (Joe).
Oh, the delicious irony. Queen Kelly is a hoot – beautifully shot, kinky (the Queen’s palace is filled to the brim with statues and paintings of nude women, Kitty give a statue of Jesus a longing look, and all other sorts of Von Stroheim depravity takes place) and it leaves us longing for more. Sunset Boulevard gives us a complete story in which Queen Kelly is just one of many subtexts. This is why Sunset Boulevard is my favorite film: besides being brilliant on the surface, it is filled with layers and layers of film history and brings together two legends formerly at odds and now linked together forever at last in a masterpiece.
Marsha Collock has been an avid fan – not scholar – of classic films since she saw the first flicker of black and white on the TV screen. Her muse is Norma Desmond, to whom she has dedicated her blog, A Person in the Dark, a site designed for all of the wonderful people out there in the dark who have an unabashed passion for silents, early talkies, all stars and all films. Visit her Facebook page.