1929 drama
Rating: 16/20
Plot: The titular girl gets knocked up and sent to a house for wayward girls, and her life doesn’t really get any better from there.
Well, that certainly is one alluring poster. Any reader of this blog knows I have a thing for Louise Brooks and those bangs of hers, and here’s a drawing of her wearing nothing but a large book. There’s not a giant diary in the movie and no scenes where Brooks is naked. She is wearing an unflattering exercise outfit at one point. But no kneeling naked behind a book.
And thanks to Croatia, this blog has just been Rated-R. Or Rated-N, obviously for Nipple. Her nipples definitely weren’t in the movie either. Of course, I can never take my eyes off her eyes, so maybe her nipples were in the movie and I just completely missed them.
This movie, as well as Louise Brooks’ performance, is really good. Actually, before I get into the movie, let me share a picture of Brooks in that exercise outfit because I know you’re going to hunt for it anyway. I’ll save you the trouble.
And now that I see that again, it kind of does it for me. This was after she went several scenes without her bangs which was almost like Chaplin’s Tramp character running around without a Hitler mustache. She was still absolutely stunning though. And her performance was just as stunning. As much as I love silent movies, it’s often hard to really buy these characters and their emotions. With Louise Brooks, I never really have that problem. I believe her, and that makes every movie I’ve ever seen her in work that much better.
This was the other G.W. Pabst/Brooks collaboration, following the great Pandora’s Box.
I’m distracted again. I linked my exceptionally well-written review of Pandora’s Box up there and noticed that that was back when I included pictures of myself watching the movie, probably the third worst idea I’ve ever had in my life. It’s a solid picture, and I’m very handsome, but it’s still odd to see those. I also noticed this exchange in the comments:
Anonymous: Next year, you should watch 365 silent movies. That’s all you seem to watch.
Me: Next year, I might watch 365 pornographic movies all featuring your mother.
Was I really that belligerent back then? I mean, that just seems so mean-spirited and irritable. Maybe that’s why I’ve never had any readers. People are too afraid to leave me nice comments or start discussions about movies they like or dislike because they think I’ll start making references to their mothers being in pornographic films.
But I digress. Brooks is great in this, a Pabst exercise in how much bleakness one character can be dragged through. I’d list the things Brooks’ character goes through, but it’d spoil things. I’ll just say that there are some little moments that I really liked in that bleakness–the rhythmic eating of soup in the house for wayward girls, my chance to dream about living in a house for wayward girls, the way the bald guy (who looks like Bull from Night Court) plays with confiscated lipstick, an expression on the face of the madam of a brothel, the most apathetic title card I think I’ll ever see (“She happens to be dead.”), a possible lesbian subtext, and this pervy customer with a fantastic beard and even better mannerisms.
I’d probably make that face if I ran into Louise Brooks, too.
