I'd seen one Douglas Fairbanks silent movie before The Thief of Bagdad. It was his classic Robin Hood - and I thought it was over-acted, boring and over-long. I really wasn't ready for this one.
But a friend told me I was missing out on something special. This 1924 classic was already a firm family favourite, especially with his pre-teen son.
Well, to enjoy The Thief of Bagdad you must accept the hammy acting conventions of the time - Douglas Fairbanks is more a mime than an actor, with exaggerated reactions, drawn-out double-takes, all the stock-in-trade of the time. But once over that hurdle, this really is a terrific movie.
For a start, it still stands out as an epic movie-making effort. The sets are HUGE - this Baghdad was built on Douglas Fairbanks' own studio lot of almost seven acres, with walls as high as the Hoover Dam - it looks real on the television screen; on the silent cinema screen it must have been mindblowing. In the early 20th century, cinema was the new religion, with celluloid palaces in place of churches and screen goddesses in place of virgins, and The Thief of Bagdad was not so much a church as a cathedral.
This 139-minute film has been wonderfully restored and transferred, using the tinting processes of the past that make the film alternately shimmer in purple or green or pink hues. There is one sequence of three or four minutes where the surviving film has been badly damaged; the inclusion of that sequence serves mainly to show how fortunate we are to have most of the footage in such great condition.
The film, although directed by Raoul Walsh, was conceived, written and produced by Douglas Fairbanks. Fairbanks, who was Hollywood's greatest swashbuckler until our own Errol Flynn stormed onto the scene, conceived and created a film full of glorious adventure and fantasy which must be one of the greatest achievements of the silent-screen.
For a 1924 silent classic, the print is of remarkably good quality. Visual appeal is helped by careful tinting which recreates the way the silent-cinema audiences would have seen the scenes take on their special hues; this is never over-done, but adds considerable appeal to the movie.
The special soundtrack has been composed for theatre-organ by Gaylord Carter and is very much of the period - mood-setting and never intrusive. I normally loathe theatre organs, even when played by the great Fats Waller, but I found this music well matched to the film.
Anyone who really enjoys cinema as more than just modern entertainment should see this film.
Seeing just what the film pioneers were capable of in the 1920s lets you appreciate what is achieved today - how far in some respects we've advanced, and how little in others.
I'd urge you to check out this DVD. Silent movies are an acquired taste, and most people will be content to see it just once, so renting rather than buying may be the best option.
