SPOILER NOTE: contains spoilers about Lucky Star and its predecessors Seventh Heaven and Street Angel.
As the followup to the hugely successful sentimental hit Seventh Heaven and its successful, but far less appealing followup, Street Angel (see review of that film for more details), Lucky Star, which was lost until c. 1990 and then rediscovered fairly rapturously, has the feel of a chastened attempt to return to a more faithful rendition of a popular formula (or two). Again, it's a tale of young lovers separated by circumstances they must overcome, but like Seventh Heaven rather than Street Angel, what will come between a young couple is not merely their own moralistic attitudes, but World War I. This time the setting, however, is not the proles' Paris or Naples, but a rural hamlet out of a Griffith film or Tol'able David, thus bringing the stars back home for American audiences after becoming too European in both setting and tone.
Where Farrell was a layabout artiste in Street Angel, here he's not only a ruggedly American pole-climber for the electric company, but in the opening scene winds up trading punches with his boss at the top of the pole! In the war he loses the ability to walk, and back home in a wheelchair he forms a friendship with young Gaynor, who's good-hearted white trash. But her harridan mom has eyes set on Farrell's old boss, a scoundrel and a rake in his Army uniform who, however, looks to be prosperous and, most importantly, has two working legs.
Again, as in Street Angel, the movie does Farrell few favors by reducing him to an emasculated role-- rather too much of the middle section has him offering Gaynor grooming tips and shampooing her hair, which ain't exactly how Clark Gable made it big. But it works at least as the low point from which Farrell's character will rebound when, like the shill for a faith healer, he rises from that wheelchair and heroically makes his way on two legs and crutches to save her from the scoundrel and, as in Seventh Heaven, fulfill the deepest fantasy of everyone in the audience who had a family member return damaged by the war. The old Seventh Heaven formula works one last time in a rousing conclusion to the silent era for the stars and the director who made them indelible. (Gaynor had one more silent to go, but we'll let that pass.)
Visually, Lucky Star survives in a much better copy than Street Angel, the UCLA restoration of which was extremely grainy (16mm blowup?), and so the real pleasure of the film is less the story, though its emotional impact is real, than Borzage's presentation of it in gauzy, shimmery late silent Poetic-o-Vision. The sets-- which may have recycled some of Sunrise's, though they're shot quite differently-- have a kind of heightened reality, presenting multiple planes on which action may take place (a house might be in the middle, for instance, but a road will wrap around front and back so that we might see action taking place either right in front of us, or up on the road behind the house). It's not exactly stage-like, but certainly not realistic either; maybe the best analogy is to something like the entire fantasy town constructed for Robert Altman's Popeye, which allowed his improvisational camera to poke around at will (unlike the sets in so many fantasy films, e.g. a Batman movie, which are clearly just what the storyboard shows for that shot and no more).
Borzage's camera-work is not improvisational, it's clearly planned, but it's also just as clear that the whole environment is quite solid and detailed, and this sort of dreamlike vividness makes Lucky Star one of that group of utterly accomplished and visually masterful late silents that show us everything that was about to be lost forever with the transition to sound. Indeed, in Lucky Star's case even that final testament to silence was lost for 60 years-- until, like Chico in Seventh Heaven, against all odds it made its way back from the land of the dead.
As the followup to the hugely successful sentimental hit Seventh Heaven and its successful, but far less appealing followup, Street Angel (see review of that film for more details), Lucky Star, which was lost until c. 1990 and then rediscovered fairly rapturously, has the feel of a chastened attempt to return to a more faithful rendition of a popular formula (or two). Again, it's a tale of young lovers separated by circumstances they must overcome, but like Seventh Heaven rather than Street Angel, what will come between a young couple is not merely their own moralistic attitudes, but World War I. This time the setting, however, is not the proles' Paris or Naples, but a rural hamlet out of a Griffith film or Tol'able David, thus bringing the stars back home for American audiences after becoming too European in both setting and tone.
Where Farrell was a layabout artiste in Street Angel, here he's not only a ruggedly American pole-climber for the electric company, but in the opening scene winds up trading punches with his boss at the top of the pole! In the war he loses the ability to walk, and back home in a wheelchair he forms a friendship with young Gaynor, who's good-hearted white trash. But her harridan mom has eyes set on Farrell's old boss, a scoundrel and a rake in his Army uniform who, however, looks to be prosperous and, most importantly, has two working legs.
Again, as in Street Angel, the movie does Farrell few favors by reducing him to an emasculated role-- rather too much of the middle section has him offering Gaynor grooming tips and shampooing her hair, which ain't exactly how Clark Gable made it big. But it works at least as the low point from which Farrell's character will rebound when, like the shill for a faith healer, he rises from that wheelchair and heroically makes his way on two legs and crutches to save her from the scoundrel and, as in Seventh Heaven, fulfill the deepest fantasy of everyone in the audience who had a family member return damaged by the war. The old Seventh Heaven formula works one last time in a rousing conclusion to the silent era for the stars and the director who made them indelible. (Gaynor had one more silent to go, but we'll let that pass.)
Visually, Lucky Star survives in a much better copy than Street Angel, the UCLA restoration of which was extremely grainy (16mm blowup?), and so the real pleasure of the film is less the story, though its emotional impact is real, than Borzage's presentation of it in gauzy, shimmery late silent Poetic-o-Vision. The sets-- which may have recycled some of Sunrise's, though they're shot quite differently-- have a kind of heightened reality, presenting multiple planes on which action may take place (a house might be in the middle, for instance, but a road will wrap around front and back so that we might see action taking place either right in front of us, or up on the road behind the house). It's not exactly stage-like, but certainly not realistic either; maybe the best analogy is to something like the entire fantasy town constructed for Robert Altman's Popeye, which allowed his improvisational camera to poke around at will (unlike the sets in so many fantasy films, e.g. a Batman movie, which are clearly just what the storyboard shows for that shot and no more).
Borzage's camera-work is not improvisational, it's clearly planned, but it's also just as clear that the whole environment is quite solid and detailed, and this sort of dreamlike vividness makes Lucky Star one of that group of utterly accomplished and visually masterful late silents that show us everything that was about to be lost forever with the transition to sound. Indeed, in Lucky Star's case even that final testament to silence was lost for 60 years-- until, like Chico in Seventh Heaven, against all odds it made its way back from the land of the dead.