Countless many things could be said of the silent era, but perhaps its greatest magic lay in being able to tell stories without any need for sound or verbal dialogue, let alone other technological developments of the years to follow. There's no denying the relative simplicity of the film-making techniques or the storytelling, but the core strengths of the medium were as robust in 1918 as they are over a century later. Deft employment of light, shadow, and framing; skillful application of makeup, nevermind hair and costume design; elegant, detailed sets and props; rich, mindful intertitles - all these facets are plainly represented even in the earliest days of cinema, and specifically, in 'Stella Maris.' Likewise, though acting of the time was often characterized by more exaggerated expressions and body language, even before the advent of talkies movies were gradually and irregularly shifting toward more natural, nuanced performances, and I think we see glimmers of that here, too, not least with Conway Tearle in a major supporting part. Above all, given dual roles as the title character and as unfortunate Unity, screen icon Mary Pickford demonstrates her range and dexterity, and the possibilities of what actors can achieve; slight affections in her comportment utterly changes how we perceive her, while her smile can light up a room. For all this alone, observing strong craftsmanship and acting, this picture holds up splendidly well and is very much worth checking out.
Don't let fleeting mention diminish the accomplishments of those behind the scenes, for well and truly, everything here is terrifically well done, and moreover this is a title that has been wonderfully well preserved. The sets are as gorgeous as the filming locations, and I can't overstate how lovely the hair, makeup, and costume design are. The cast are swell across the board, and Marshall Neilan's direction firm and practiced, in bringing the story to life. Prolific screenwriter Frances Marion, adapting William John Locke's novel, brings us real, believable characters with scene writing of earnest substance. These build a sturdy, compelling narrative with significant themes, and enduring relevance: abuse and neglect, even when colored with good intentions or a false veneer thereof; love, responsibility, and lies of every variety; the evils of the world as seen through fresh, innocent eyes; and so on. The plot of an orphan and a girl of good circumstances, both plagued by ill fortune of one nature or another, is filled with potential, not least as one man is prominent in the lives of both. For that matter, there are familiar strains in the tale that we might recognize from other works, and one can easily imagine how this might look if it were made in subsequent decades. With the unembellished sincerity of silent cinema, however, the story is allowed to blossom with gratifying honesty and heart, and without need or desire for those touches that would reflect more modern sensibilities. The feature is firmly absorbing and satisfying, on its own merits.
I can understand why older movies don't appeal to all comers; I'd have said the same myself, once. Yet while some works carry distinctive traits certain to limit the engagement from modern viewers, this isn't true in every case, and I think 'Stella Maris' is free of the most critical such qualities (weak production values, print deterioration, overly exaggerated acting, illustration of old-fashioned norms and values). Indeed, though this may not stand toe to toe with the very best of all the era had to offer, I'm inclined to believe the film-making and storytelling are so superb all around, and lastingly engrossing, that it may even help to bridge the gap for those in the twenty-first century who generally have little love for fare of one hundred years past. It's not wholly striking in any one particular way, but for the sheer excellence of every component part, and the tremendous care poured into it, its strength builds over the course of these 80 minutes to the point that it ultimately does belong among some of the very best of company. If I have any critique to offer it's that the plot resolves a tad too neatly for its own good, leaving a faint imperfection on the viewing experience overall, but even that is hardly a fault exclusive to this piece. When all is said and done it may not be an absolute must-see, but whether one is an emphatic devotee of the silent era or just broadly looking for a good movie, 'Stella Maris' remains an indelible treasure that's worth checking out if one has the chance.
Don't let fleeting mention diminish the accomplishments of those behind the scenes, for well and truly, everything here is terrifically well done, and moreover this is a title that has been wonderfully well preserved. The sets are as gorgeous as the filming locations, and I can't overstate how lovely the hair, makeup, and costume design are. The cast are swell across the board, and Marshall Neilan's direction firm and practiced, in bringing the story to life. Prolific screenwriter Frances Marion, adapting William John Locke's novel, brings us real, believable characters with scene writing of earnest substance. These build a sturdy, compelling narrative with significant themes, and enduring relevance: abuse and neglect, even when colored with good intentions or a false veneer thereof; love, responsibility, and lies of every variety; the evils of the world as seen through fresh, innocent eyes; and so on. The plot of an orphan and a girl of good circumstances, both plagued by ill fortune of one nature or another, is filled with potential, not least as one man is prominent in the lives of both. For that matter, there are familiar strains in the tale that we might recognize from other works, and one can easily imagine how this might look if it were made in subsequent decades. With the unembellished sincerity of silent cinema, however, the story is allowed to blossom with gratifying honesty and heart, and without need or desire for those touches that would reflect more modern sensibilities. The feature is firmly absorbing and satisfying, on its own merits.
I can understand why older movies don't appeal to all comers; I'd have said the same myself, once. Yet while some works carry distinctive traits certain to limit the engagement from modern viewers, this isn't true in every case, and I think 'Stella Maris' is free of the most critical such qualities (weak production values, print deterioration, overly exaggerated acting, illustration of old-fashioned norms and values). Indeed, though this may not stand toe to toe with the very best of all the era had to offer, I'm inclined to believe the film-making and storytelling are so superb all around, and lastingly engrossing, that it may even help to bridge the gap for those in the twenty-first century who generally have little love for fare of one hundred years past. It's not wholly striking in any one particular way, but for the sheer excellence of every component part, and the tremendous care poured into it, its strength builds over the course of these 80 minutes to the point that it ultimately does belong among some of the very best of company. If I have any critique to offer it's that the plot resolves a tad too neatly for its own good, leaving a faint imperfection on the viewing experience overall, but even that is hardly a fault exclusive to this piece. When all is said and done it may not be an absolute must-see, but whether one is an emphatic devotee of the silent era or just broadly looking for a good movie, 'Stella Maris' remains an indelible treasure that's worth checking out if one has the chance.