In the same way that childhood experiences often have an unfortunate way of distorting adult perspective, I believe that my youthful impressions of the films I watched as a child have left me with some unjustified biases. For instance, I love reminding my dear father that by allowing me to watch the movie Willard when I was still very young, he indirectly caused my extreme dislike of rodents, especially squirrels (which are just rats with furry tails).
Irrational fears aside, I recently discovered that my childhood reaction to the 1925 silent film The Phantom of the Opera kept me as an adult from understanding the true brilliance of actor Lon Chaney (1883-1930). Aside from the generally immature impression that the film was “boring,” I recall thinking that the phantom was only interesting for his superficially ghoulish appearance. College film classes gave me a new appreciation of silent films, but only raised my esteem of Chaney to a general respect for all good silent film actors with a talent for non-verbal expression.
So I was more than a little bit surprised to discover the uncommon genius of “The Man of a Thousand Faces” late one Sunday night during a TCM airing of a lesser-known Lon Chaney film, The Black Bird, which was originally released in 1926, just a few months after Phantom. Barely watching at first, I quickly became engrossed by Chaney’s portrayal of a tormented man living a double life as two very physically and emotionally different people: the crippled and charitable “Bishop” and his perfectly fit criminal brother, “The Black Bird.” He accomplishes this not through mere make-up and silent film pantomime, but by actual physical transformation – even self-deformation – and heart-wrenching emotional expression. I was entranced.
I think there are few modern actors who could ever come close to achieving Lon Chaney’s skill and vision. This is partly because Chaney was both an innovator and a master of self-disguise in almost every sense – from doing his own make-up and physical special effects to seemingly making his own limbs disappear. (If you ask me, Brad Pitt as “Benjamin Button” is no more believable with the benefit of modern technology and a team of special effects and make-up experts than Lon Chaney was in almost any of his roles more than 70 years ago.) More poignantly, Chaney’s abilities were founded in extraordinary circumstances: both his parents were deaf and mute, so he spent his entire early childhood exploring alternate ways to communicate.
It’s a shame that our adult perception of almost anything can be so easily swayed by what we remember of it from childhood. If we perceive it as boring or confusing as children, we disregard it as adults. I guess this means I’m going to have to give Willard another chance.
-Tori
P.S. Another somewhat obscure Lon Chaney film I recommend is The Unknown from 1927, which also features a young Joan Crawford. For more on Lon Chaney’s amazing talents, check out “A Thousand Faces: Lon Chaney’s Unique Artistry in Motion Pictures”
