On to the evening: there was a steady crowd in wait at the Dryden Theatre, anticipating the screening of The Canary Murder Case; the film was preceded by a discussion with Ira Resnick, author of Starstruck: Vintage Movie Posters from Classic Hollywood. Resnick, who has been collecting memorabilia since the late '60s, has invested a great deal of time and money into his collection, though a few of his pieces were acquired for as low as $35 each. As he showcased some of his personal favorites, I reflected on an interview he gave the day before on WXXI radio, and I came to realize that movie poster design is truly a lost art. Resnick voiced his disappointment (on both occasions) with MGM's promotion, citing that they placed the stars and names above all else, including the film's content. Many modern films do much the same; they seek to sell names and pretty faces, when technology and special effects are absent, and that is precisely where promotion ends. The variety of designs, techniques, and styles employed throughout Resnick's collection is astonishing, and it certainly tugs at the heartstrings. Where has the artistry gone, in the movies themselves and in their advertising? I have only owned the book for a few hours, so I have yet to fully explore and digest its contents, but I am greatly looking forward to the opportunity. (On a side note, as I was exploring the museum shop before the showing, I noticed that they are now reprinting T-shirts with Louise's iconic pearl necklace image from the Richee photo session...which I had spent years wishing for and had only come across on eBay several months before. Tempted to buy a second shirt, but only because I am certifiably nuts when it comes to such matters.)
As for the film itself, it was an enjoyable, somewhat lighthearted and campy mystery. Knowing beforehand that Louise's voice was going to be dubbed over, I had set myself up for some disappointment, and to be honest, the film took its time in building steam. It seems that the first portion of the film consisted largely of salvaged material from having been shot as a silent feature, evident in the uncomfortably long pauses between (sometimes poorly) dubbed dialogue. The editing also showcased some weaknesses in the decision to create a "part-talker", particularly with Louise's scenes. Margaret Livingston (wife of famed bandleader Paul Whiteman) not only dubbed Louise's voice, but acted as a stand-in when necessary, and this was very apparent in scenes shot from the rear or side views. The hairline was distinctly different, as was her movement...however, there was one scene where the "Canary" approached her apartment door, shot from the rear, and I could tell that it was in fact Louise. Her movement is so graceful and distinctive that it cannot be missed, and G.W. Pabst was (in my humble opinion) the only director to fully appreciate and utilize her dancing background. While I am quite familiar with Louise at this point, I wanted to get to know William Powell, whose Philo Vance largely kept this film afloat with his unique suaveness, sleek intelligence, and hushed charm; Powell is an actor I'd definitely like to see more often, and if it were possible, I'd wish to chat over a drink. The supporting cast's performances were often comical, whether intentional or not, but that made the experience, with crowd and all, that much more fun.
I know now that I want to attend screenings at the Dryden on a fairly regular basis, taking in a wide variety of films, though silents will continue to be a soft spot. Just as I was a late bloomer to music, so it is with the movies. Signed book in hand, looking up at the clear night sky, I couldn't have felt more alive and full of joy, having realized just what my new mission in life must be. Call me starstruck.
