Your Favourite Silent Film Stars.

Louise Brooks:

Pandora's Box (1929)

Douglas Fairbanks and Buster Keaton.

Lon Chaney ... pictured ,  
Alonzo the Armless - The Unknown (1927) 
Blind Pew - Treasure Island (1920)
Tiger Haynes - Where East is East (1929)
Dr. Ziska - The Monster (1925)




 

Although no one can ever go wrong with Keaton, I'm generally resistant to singling out "favorites" in any category. But there are a couple of actors deserving shout-outs whose most productive years and greatest success came in the silent era, and whose talents receive insufficient attention and appreciation these many decades after their careers - and lives - ended. Although both survived the coming of sound, one would continue working - although more and more sporadically and in lesser and lesser roles in both films and TV - for another 40 years, while the other flamed out professionally by 1934, and was dead by 1936.

Ramon Novarro - The breadth of his mastery of purely visual acting can be gauged by only three films (if one must): in 1922's The Prisoner Of Zenda, he's full of cunning, shifty-eyed - yet perversely charming - villainy as Rupert, fully able to telegraph the hatching of a dastardly scheme with just the raise of an eyebrow or sidelong glance, never once stepping into over-the-top excess; in 1925's Ben-Hur: A Tale Of the Christ (his best-known role), he fully embodies earnest yet sensitive heroism and determination; in 1927's The Student Prince In Old Heidelberg, he effectively conveys both the youthful exuberance and fish-out-of-water awkwardness and uncertainty of a cloistered crown prince thrust among the commoners - and experiencing romantic love  - for the first time, when sent to university away from the palace and the only atmosphere he's ever known. These represent mere samplings, but offer ample evidence of Novarro's ability to wholly invest in - and bring something different to - each character. A very big deal in his day (for good reason), history and the fog of time have left him unjustly underrated. 

John Gilbert - Somewhat better-remembered, Gilbert understood as Novarro did the magnifying effects the screen brought to every tiny gesture or change of expression, and how to nuance each to relay their meanings to audiences without benefit of audibly-spoken words. The most recent of his pictures that I saw was 1929's Desert Nights, and I had to stop and think for a moment to recall whether it had been a silent or a talkie. It was, in fact, his last silent picture, but so vital and immediate was his screen presence that I momentarily couldn't remember whether I'd actually heard him speak his lines or had only read them on title cards. Gilbert's best-known sound film was 1933's Queen Christina (with one-time real-life love Greta Garbo), but I wouldn't say it was truly representative of his capability with dialogue. As odd as it may seem to cite sound films as recommendations of an actor primarily known for silents, I'd do so with Gentleman's Fate (1931), Downstairs (1932) and his final film, The Captain Hates the Sea (1934) in the case of Gilbert, for - as with Garbo in her own sound films - what's conveyed visually by way of posture, gait or the faintest flickers of emotions across a player's face usually relay more than any dialogue (with which, I hasten to add, Gilbert displays great skill in these films, and do so to counteract any unfair maligning of his talkie efforts, around which much Hollywood lore has grown). Of his silents (for the record), The Merry Widow, The Big Parade, Flesh and the Devil, Love and A Woman Of Affairs provide solid examples of Gilbert's accomplishments in that medium.