Don Juan (1926)

• Directed by Alan Crosland.

• Screenplay by Bess Meredyth, titles (uncreditedly) by Walter Anthony & Maude Fulton.

• Silent…however, this film was made and released with a synchronized Vitaphone musical score – and stands as the first-ever feature film to do so.

The backing score is/was performed by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, and was (uncreditedly) composed and arranged by William Axt and David Mendoza.

• Opening “Prologue” title card:

“The tale they tell of Don Juan, immortal lover and doubter of woman, is bold with life and color – – a merry, insolent tale slashed with intrigue – – yet its beginning is as gray as the old Spanish castle of Juan’s earliest memory.”

• John Barrymore, who stars as the titular Don Juan, makes his first appearance in the film as child Don Juan’s father, Don Jose de Marana, who – in short order – catches Juan’s mother, Donna Isobel (Jane Winton) affairing around with a dude called Leandro (John Roche). In response, Don Jose seals Leandro inside Leandro’s hiding spot of a stone wall (wow, Isobel – you suck for letting this happen), and exiles the Unfaithful Wifeling – thus losing his trust and respect for women FOREVER, as he (very helpfully) announces to his 5-year-old son (played, somewhat perplexingly, by Yvonne Day, in what was the young girl’s only-ever movie role).

• At the ripe old age of 10 (now played by Philippe De Lacy), Don Juan super undamagingly (again: ha) witnesses his father being envy-stabbed to death by one of Don Jose’s jilted ladypals, Donna Elvira (Helena D’Algy).

“This is my legacy to you,” Don Jose says to Don Juan, as he die-collapses. “Beware of giving your love to women.”

Eek.

• A number of years later, “The Story” recommences in Rome – where the ritzy, lacking-in-morals Borgia family currently sits in power. Most prominently – for our purposes, anyway – there is Lucrezia Borgia (Estelle Taylor), her brother Cesare (Warner Oland), and their leering, entitled-ass crony Count Giano Donati (Montagu Love)(yes, yes, I know – it’s him again).

(It’s fun to note that Lucrezia’s BFF Lady-in-Waiting – a girl called Mai – is played by a 20-year-old Myrna Loy, in one of her first credited feature-film roles. Though the character does have some “lines” and several interactions with the central plot (which was decidedly not the case for her role in SO THIS IS PARIS (1926)), the part is ultimately still a small one, and would likely not register as being anything particularly significant, were it inhabited by someone with a less-than-legendary future career.)

(In Loy’s own words, from her 1987 memoir: “Mostly I just tagged along looking seductive during [Lucrezia’s] assignations with Don Juan.”)

• There’s a fantastically orchestrated sequence that introduces us to – and instantly familiarizes us with – the life of Adult Don Juan. Aided by his (refreshingly self-aware – equal parts bewildered and entertained by the ridiculousness of the romance scenarios he and his boss-pal continuously find themselves in) secretary Pedrillo (Willard Louis), Don Juan finagles his way out of a simultaneous, three-woman demand for his time and romantic attentions, using increasingly repetitive, adapted-on-the-fly excuses and placating assurances (“Madonna – you are the one love of his life.” / “Tomorrow?”). The scene is played to genuinely funny effect by all involved – again, with enough self-awareness on the part of Louis and Barrymore so as not to feel eyeroll-worthily over-the-top or hammy.

• Summoned by the Borgias to an evening party at the Palazzo Santa Maria, Don Juan is initially intrigued by the glamor of Lucrezia (and like…who the hell wouldn’t be – Estelle Taylor is absolutely gorgeous in her bedazzled, tiara-topped costume) – but his focus soon shifts to the more classic, simplified beauty of fellow party guest Adriana della Varnese (Mary Astor).

• In an act of brilliant charisma, Don Juan recognizes and single-handedly thwarts the Borgias’ (bizarrely, Neri-the-Sorcerer-aided)(I know, man – like…who? they have a fucking live-ass sorcerer on the payroll??? okay, sure, whatever) plot to death-poison Adriana’s father, who happens to be a member of the rival Orsini family.

(Papa-Duke Varnese, by the way, is played by Josef Swickard, while Neri the Sorcerer (can you hear me groaning?)(oh no, wait – this is a silent picture, I forgot) is played by a heavily costumed Gustav von Seyffertitz (because……of course).)

• As a reward for his heroism, Don Juan is like, ‘Surely Adriana the Grateful will want me to bust into her bedroom at midnight and let me sleep with her, as thank-you gift?!’ – and then just like…shows up and goes for it.

Adriana is genuinely, justifiably terrified by Don Juan’s bold entitledness, and is like, ‘Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?! Get your threatening, scoundrely hands off me, or I might have to stab one or both of us with this bejeweled dagger!’

Don Juan sees Adriana’s tears and fear-induced faintery, and is like, ‘…Oh. Shit, man. My bad,’ and vacates the premises immediately.

(Bravo for doing the right thing, my dude. I see you growing a conscience!!!)

• Don Juan, to Adriana, in three days’ time:

“You have given me a new faith – faith in the goodness of women – teach me – help me – so that I may never lose that faith, again!”

Fuck yeah, Don Juan! AdV for the win!!!

• Alas, in exchange for the life of her father, who the Borgias are set on arresting and beheading, Adriana agrees to marry the evil Count Donati.

(Meanwhile, Spoiled-‘n’-Needy Lucrezia attempts to lure-procure the affections of Don Juan – – and is aptly, immediately rejected by him, once again. So…a big, pro-Adriana yay-hooray for that.)

• “Your pardon, signor – for trespassing ever so slightly in your garden,” Juan says, ever so coolly, as he unhides Donati the Forced Inconvenience of a Fiancé, who is eavesdrop-lurking behind a curtain in Adriana’s bedroom.

The calm, focused stillness with which Barrymore performs this line, with a downcast glare at Confident Donati the Prowler, is exquisite.

• Barrymore plays this role with a mesmerizing understatedness, that – even as a massive appreciator of JB’s talents – I find myself surprised by. (Thankfully, another BELOVED ROGUE (1927) this is not.) Here, he is thoughtful in his temperament and gestures, subtle in his expressions, and with a far more gentle approach than I expected; overall, I’d deem it a convincing, well-handled performance.

(Or, well…until the ending portion, perhaps. It’s possible that Barrymore overdoes his half of the swordfight-to-the-death sequence – though, given that the character of Don Juan has somewhat madly endeavored to charge head-first into what is basically a suicide mission, in romantic service of the now-married (!) love of his life, who he has no real hope of rescuing for himself – I’d argue that a clear demonstration of this heightenedly dramatic state of craziness might well be warranted, in some form or another.

‘Understated’ and ‘subtle’ this section is not – but, I dunno, guys – maybe it really shouldn’t be.)

• I love the small bit of pre-swordfight choreography that finds Adriana’s hand reaching, with a resigned grace, for the bedroom door-handle, to admit the boisterously beckoning Donati – only for the tip of a sword blade to emerge from the right, off-screen, to gently, encouragingly tap the door closed, from the inside.

It’s a beautiful moment of storytelling, as you have no idea – until that instant – that Juan has decided to come here, and is present in the building…let alone inside this room.

• Juan successfully kills Donati the Evil (interestingly – though maybe not altogether pleasingly and/or convincingly – their aforementioned swordfight is shot partially from a back-and-forth, first-person perspective – with the camera staring directly into the paths and jabs of each dueler’s sword) – but ultimately, predictably, both Juan and Adriana the Instant Widow are imprisoned for their involvement and/or orchestration of Donati’s murder.

• The film concludes with Juan escaping his basement prison cell via loose-stone-induced flood-swim, whereby he collects Adriana from Neri the Sorcerer’s Rotten Tower of Miscreantism, and the pair valiantly, victoriously flees on horseback, to a Happily Ever After in Spain.

(The ‘Flight on Horseback’ sequence is a well-executed one, as the pair’s steed is pursued by Enemy Riders, and they must elude them via high-speed horse sprint through some, you know, treacherous wilderness fields. Here, the musical score contributes a great deal to the segment’s energy and compellingness.)

• So. This movie was made rather immediately after John Barrymore’s and Mary Astor’s several-year, off-screen romance (which began on the set of BEAU BRUMMEL (1924)) came to an end – as Barrymore had recently met (and filmed 1926’s THE SEA BEAST with) future wife Dolores Costello.

In her 1959 memoir My Story, Astor wrote about this time in her life, saying: “all my hopes and dreams died, and I wanted to die with them.” She described the experience of filming the movie as “a torment,” and wrote that “it was agony to be so close to him again.” It’s a testament to Astor’s overwhelming professionalism (and I suppose her effectiveness as an actress) that you cannot detect an ounce of her devastation or misery in her performance…so much so that IMDb erroneously states that her affair with Barrymore began with this film, and carried on after it (when in actuality, the exact opposite was true).

[Edit: IMDb stated this (past tense), but now, officially, does not – as I reported the information as false, and had the trivia item updated to reflect, you know, the actual facts.]

(Incidentally, Myrna Loy also commented on “poor” Astor’s experience on the set of DON JUAN in her memoir, writing: “I blundered into a dressing room…and there sat Mary weeping bitterly… It was awful, just awful.”)

• Anyway – off-screen backstory aside, this is an appealingly adventurous rendezvous of a film, with excellent performances by Barrymore and Estelle Taylor, a solid performance by Astor, and a wild, novelty of a “performance” by Loy.

Oh, plus? The sets and costumes are straight-up magnificent.

• Does a world exist in which I believe this belongs on any ‘Best of All Time’ lists? Probably not, no. But I had a fantastic time watching it, anyway – and with the presence of both Astor and Barrymore, I think the film quite heartily earns the classification of ‘Almost Essential.’