Of rats and autograph seekers.

What a treat in celebration of Edith Meinhard's birthday this year! News is a rarity, but thanks to a fellow fan in the Louise Brooks Society Facebook group (cheers, Susanne!), we can at last fill in some biographical gaps. In 1947, Edith married a man named Evald Verner Jensen, which tracks with listings I had previously found in West Berlin phone books in the 1960s. 

The above was taken from the 1968-69 phone book, which would be the last time she was listed. Edith passed away on June 26, 1968, at the age of 59. (Thanks also to Matthaus Edinger for this information.)

Also thanks to the LBS group, I came across a 1931 interview she had done for Mein Film magazine. Her charm and talent was recognized by many, and rightfully so. Without further ado, please enjoy!

(Unfortunately I only know a few German words, so the following has been automatically translated, then edited for clarity to the best of my ability. Apologies for any awkwardness herein, some things don't work out smoothly into English. I've also included scans of my personal copy for posterity.)

    I am extremely happy to be immortalized in your beautiful anniversary edition, and I would like to take the opportunity to tell you that I "got hooked” early on. My first film appearance was at the age of ten, and I was chosen by Maxim Film, who were filming an adaptation of Felix Hollander's novel "The Dancer", to play the role of the hero as a young boy. With my beguiling violin playing I could lure the rats out of their hiding places!

    God, was I scared of those rats! Even though I had made up my mind, oh, to be so brave, it took a while before I got used to the rats, and until the rats got used to me.

    This first role brought me great success and I was delighted to be able to admire my picture in all the postcard shops! And then came the high point of my ten-year existence: I was asked for an autograph! I was blessed! That seemed to me to be the culmination of fame!

    I have since overcome this overwhelming first request for my autograph, but I am always happy when I receive nice autograph letters. And for the fun of your kind readers, I will reproduce the following letter from two dear boys that I recently received:

Well-born, beautiful, gracious diva, you, our favorite film star, Edith Meinhardt!

Two of your biggest admirers send greetings and wish you the best of luck with all your films. We've seen such wonderful films with you and we cannot fail to write to you. We ask and implore you, beautiful diva, to give us two beautiful autographs. Please, please, be so good - there are no photos here, we beg you to provide some for us, and yet we hope that you are good to us, our joy would be immense. Please, please, if you can, I, Gustav B., would like a photo where you are already grown up [?], please, please, my dear one, where you can show more of your wonderful figure. Please see what you can do.

    Isn't that nice?

    I send my warmest greetings to your charming readers and the gracious editorial team, and I wish you continued well-deserved success!

I couldn't write her for an autograph, but I'm lucky to have one just the same.

"Ring twice."

It's been a long time (nearly two and a half years!) since I last posted about Edith Meinhard, largely due to a lack of new information, but I've been spurred on by recent social media activity to share more items from my collection. I thought I'd follow up on this post with photos from Voruntersuchung, a highly recommended film if you've only seen Edith in Diary of a Lost Girl. In addition to the DVD linked in that post, there is also a Spanish-subtitled version on the Internet Archive. The captions are translations of the snipes found on the back of each photo.

"The witnesses are waiting to be questioned." Edith is seated on the far left.

"Albert Bassermann (examining magistrate) interrogates Charlotte Ander (his daughter)."

"The accused before the examining magistrate."

"The real killer is caught in the courtroom."

"Sound film recording in the streets of Berlin. Under the microphone, Gustav Frohlich and Hans Brausewetter."

Page from the Voruntersuchung program, with Edith's Mella Ziehr pictured in a happier time.

The film has fine performances all around, particularly from Albert Bassermann. This was my introduction to Bassermann, and until I attended a nitrate screening of The Red Shoes two years ago I had no idea he acted in any English-language films! He's also great in Alfred Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent, which now tempts me to rewatch with a giant bowl of popcorn...

More rare gems.

New information on Edith Meinhard is still as scarce as ever, but I have made a couple of relevant acquisitions recently. Featured below are promotional portraits for the 1931 film Voruntersuchung, notably starring Gustav Frohlich of Metropolis fame. Having been made available for the first time in at least three years, I knew I had to make them mine. Edith is Mella Ziehr, a prostitute who returns home one morning to the scene of a grisly murder, the memory of which torments her through the duration of the film. Her social status is largely irrelevant; she is treated with dignity (except by the detectives, of course) and becomes a sympathetic character. Another great performance by Edith, and one of the few surviving films in which she has a substantial role. There is a DVD available with optional English subtitles, and it's well worth a watch.

Warner Brothers' "Gift" to the masses?

At 6:15 yesterday morning, TCM aired the rarely-shown God's Gift to Women, a 1931 Frank Fay vehicle meant to showcase his appeal as a ladies' man. Whether this was done in seriousness or as a farce is difficult to discern, though I'd bet on the latter. Despite Warner Brothers' efforts to prime Fay as one of the biggest stars of the early '30s, Gift would signal the beginning of a downward slide. More on that in a bit...

Fade in to Paris, home to the Arc de Triomphe, the swanky Club Perroquet, and our leading man, an alleged descendant of Don Juan whose name is...Toto. [Cue the groans.] Numerous tables are passed along and set up in preparation for his arrival, anticipating accompaniment by several glamorous women. Most notable in the fracas is a bangless Louise Brooks, delightful as ever in spite of a thankless tenth billing. She enters the film with a sly turn over her shoulder, but is nearly smothered out of the frame by the arrival of Toto (Fay), Fifi (Joan Blondell), and the Sisters G. Perturbed by all of the ruckus is John Churchill (Charles Winninger), the standard curmudgeon, a disapproving father who "would rather have an alley in Rochester than all of the streets in Paris". [Whether he is referring to my home city or a different Rochester is up in the air.] In stark contrast, his daughter Diane (Laura La Plante) adores the Parisian nightlife. She spots Toto across the room, working his legendary charm all around the table, and she affirms that she's aware of his ways; she says that they're what "makes him interesting". Eventually, she catches his eye in return. He is dazzled, she is skeptical, but has a glimmer in her eye suggesting that she's ready and willing to challenge whatever doe-eyed hooey he sets forth. A game she is intent upon winning.

The music swells, and Diane, after some hesitation, takes to the dance floor, and Toto takes notice. He's "lost his heart again", according to Fifi. He sends a friend to make her acquaintance and dance with her, but when she refuses to meet him, he has one of the waiters turn off the lights briefly, with just enough time for Toto to switch places with his friend. Diane is by turns shocked, then pleased, but feigns disgust as a ruse. Toto takes the bait. He pursues her on the street the next day (presumably), and ends up bringing her to his home, albeit after getting his hand caught in her car door. He hints at marriage as she nurses him back to health, but she plays it coy. She softens to his advances during a charming tea-reading scene, but always keeps her wits about her. [Laura La Plante is a surprise saving grace in this film, her Midwestern roots shining through with every warm smile. I'm curious to see more of her work.]

Toto has a change of heart about his old ways, but his old ways won't leave him behind. He continues to be swarmed by women, if always by surprise. Diane, not entirely convinced of this turnaround, keeps herself out of the picture for the time being. Meanwhile, a preeminent doctor pays Toto a visit, but leaves him with a grim diagnosis. He is to experience no excitement of any kind; no parties, no women, zilch. One kiss could be fatal. The women learn the news, but are ignorant of the doctor's warning. One by one, they decide to sneak into his home and "nurse" him in their own special ways. Brooks, as Florine, gets the most screen time here, and with actual lines to boot. Ultimately, Fifi and Florine run into each other, and once Dagmar (Yola d'Avril) discovers them, a catfight breaks out. Seeing Toto in agony, trying to keep his heart rate down, the women remember their mission and turn to console him. An angry husband storms in and scares the women away. The doctor, in disbelief, offers to give Toto a second chance, but maintains his warning. Deciding that he wants to spend one last evening with Diane, he even goes so far as to pick out his own coffin, sure that he will indeed expire after they kiss. As luck would have it, he survives. Though it isn't so much due to luck after all...the doctor's "diagnosis" was another careful ruse on Diane's part, a test of Toto's faithfulness. The "funeral" is swiftly transformed into a wedding, and we get our happy ending.

Having read some IMDB reviews long before viewing the film, I was prepared to hate it. It wasn't terribly successful at the time of its release, even after a considerable makeover. The film was originally slated to be a musical, with songs performed by Frank Fay and the Sisters G. Fearing backlash against yet another musical film, the scenes were cut; the full film remained intact when screened in other countries, but it is currently unknown if any copies survive. While it's far from a classic, it isn't too bad. The writing is uneven but manages to get in a few zingers amidst some eye-rollers. Fay is tolerable, though I can understand why this was his final Warner Brothers picture. He was falling out of favor in Hollywood, just as his wife was on the rise: the beloved Barbara Stanwyck. Coupled with personal problems, his star would never burn brightly again. La Plante was perfectly natural and charming, a real pleasure to watch. Brooks, sadly, was largely background fodder. During the nightclub scene, she was seated in close proximity to one of the Sisters G, who sported the infamous glossy "black helmet" of Brooks' heyday. Another connection was with costar Margaret Livingston, who was Brooks' dubbed voice and body double in The Canary Murder Case after Brooks quit Paramount and defected to Europe. Her voice, rumored to not record well, sounds perfectly smooth and musical. Had Hollywood given her better opportunities, and had she not despised the cutthroat studio system (though I'm thankful that she did, honestly), she could have excelled in comedy roles. She was a fine actor opposite W.C. Fields in It's the Old Army Game, so it certainly could have been done. Despite not being given much to do, she is surely one of the few reasons anyone chooses to see this film. There are worse ways to spend an hour plus, but there are better films to see, particularly if you seek an effervescent Brook(s).