ANNA CHRISTIE: Blu-ray (MGM, 1930) Warner Archive

To suggest the dawning of sound motion pictures terrified Hollywood in 1929 is to infer the quake that rocked San Francisco in 1906 was not all that big of a deal. The international language of cinema was forever shattered once Al Jolson opened his lips in The Jazz Singer, shouting for all to hear, “Wait a minute…wait a minute, I tell you. You ain’t heard nothin’ yet!” And indeed, with sound coming to the movies, the industry had to face a daunting reality. First, the added cost to retool not only its studio facilities, but also theaters to accommodate the phenomenon. Consequently, MGM was the last studio in Hollywood to embrace the ‘new’ technology, but very quickly to discover it demanded more from their roster of talent than to merely speak clearly into hidden mics – an early hiccup later, riotously lampooned in Singin’ in the Rain (1952). Alas, and again, no laughing matter in 1929.  Without the benefit of pre-recordings or dubbing (both to become main staples thereafter), early sound pictures regressed camera fluidity to the stone ages. Early sound cameras were housed in clumsy, oversized boxes to isolate their mechanical noise.  

Far worse for Hollywood on masse, an alarming percentage of their ensconced silent gods and goddesses spoke with thick Euro-centric accents. Others had lisps, or knew not their way around a good line with a thin voice. Consequently, something had to be done. But what? Early sound mics amplified these shortcomings. No such thing as ‘auto tune’ then. And purging a studio roster of talent it had taken the time, care and vast studio resources to cultivate to a level of public acceptance in favor of a new breed called out from the rafters of Broadway – where ‘sound’ was, after all, quite essential, was not altogether a fix either, and, a costly one at that. At MGM, Irving G. Thalberg, VP in Charge of Production, attempted damage control by assuring the stockholders it would be ‘business as usual’ – without sound. Thalberg thus issued a statement to the trades in which he casually dismissed talking pictures as a passing fancy. Sour grapes, as by the end of 1929, even Thalberg had to begrudgingly admit, sound was here to stay.

Given the rampant fear of sound enveloping Hollywood in general, and MGM in particular, Thalberg was very circumspect, seeking out the ideal vehicle for the studio’s most enigmatic goddess, Greta Garbo to mark her debut in the talkies. Garbo had come to MGM in 1925, after a fairly lucrative film career in her native Sweden. Garbo wanted to be with her lover, director, Mauritz Stiller. MGM’s L.B. Mayer wanted Stiller to make movies for him. So, Garbo came into the picture too. Mayer, in a moment of ‘sight-unseen’ myopathy, brought Garbo and Stiller over as a package deal under long-term studio contracts. Regrettably, the Garbo who disembarked in New York was not the Garbo eventually to materialize on the screen. Upon his first glimpse of this ‘awkward peasant girl’, Mayer reportedly told his ‘new find’, “Americans don’t like their women fat…and get your teeth fixed!” Garbo obliged. A new, slimmed down version was on the set of The Torrent (1926) a seedy melodrama Mayer intended to finish off Garbo’s fledgling career and thus get him out from under his obligation to her. Much to Mayer’s chagrin…or perhaps, delight, it was Garbo who stole the show from the picture’s star, Ricardo Cortez, paving the way for her meteoric rise as MGM’s irrefutable ‘bird of paradise’.  

But now, it was time for Garbo to talk. Would her Swedish accent hold water in the sound era or sink her public reputation as a screen goddess like the Titanic? Thanks to Thalberg’s choosing of Garbo’s first sound project, she would emerge triumphant from the ashes of silent cinema and more galvanized for super stardom than ever. Playwright, Eugene O’Neill’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Broadway smash, Anna Christie had been riveting stagecraft. Mayer and Thalberg endeavored to bring it to the screen with considerable verve and fidelity. Casting Garbo as O’Neill’s washed-up and ailing prostitute proved inspired casting. Garbo, with her heavy enunciations, emits a sort of careworn and world-weary charisma, perfectly in keeping with her fictional character. And it is to Garbo’s credit she acquits herself rather nicely of O’Neill’s weighty prose. Evidently, the public concurred. Anna Christie was a huge hit and Garbo’s career in the talkies was assured.  

Plot wise: after a lengthy disaffection from her father, Chris Christofferson (George F. Marion), hard-knock whore, Anna Christie (Greta Garbo) returns to the coal barge home of her youth, desperate for a place of solace. Anna is befriended by Chris’ bibulous, over-the-hill babe, Marthy (Marie Dressler) who immediately recognizes what Anna has been up to all these years. Chris, however, is oblivious to the mileage his daughter has put on her chassis since last they lived under the same roof. Chris blames the ocean for his woes, also, as the reason he had to leave Anna and her mother many years ago. He therefore comes to resent Anna’s love of the sea. Anna harbors her own deep resentment of all men – a hatred tested by Chris’ blind faith in her, and later, after saving the life of Matt (Charles Bickford), an able-bodied seaman, spared from death during a vicious storm at sea, who begins to fall in love with the woman he considers his angel of mercy. Anna now fears, far from setting her free, the truth about her past will destroy the newfound contentment she has embraced. Forced into an impossible situation, Anna confesses her past to Chris and Matt after the latter proposes marriage. The men, while initially resentful, come to a sort of drunken understanding, with Anna agreeing to wait for Matt’s return from another lengthy excursion at sea.

At its crux, Anna Christie remains a compelling tale about the fragility of life’s illusions – those we harbor towards, or perhaps, even against others, as well as the ones we live on to keep the equilibrium in our own sanity a constant. Eugene O’Neill weaves disparate threads of anxious despondency with struggling optimism, gingerly finessed into a manageable screenplay by Frances Marion. What is most intriguing, especially when viewed within the body of Garbo’s cinema work in totem, is how Anna Christie so completely brings the unattainable goddess first introduced to movie-goers in Flesh and the Devil (1927) and The Single Standard (1929) down to earth – and lower still - without, even for a second, to diminish the impact of Garbo’s presence as a magical unicorn of the silver screen. Director, Clarence Brown is oft criticized for employing a static quality, preserving the proscenium as though we are still watching Anna Christie – the play, rather than Anna Christie – the movie. If Brown persists in firmly planting his camera in one place, it is prudently due to the technical shortcomings and difficulties in making early sound pictures, or perhaps, merely to satisfy his own admiration for Garbo – the artiste; a forgivable sin. Fair enough, there are whole portions where total reliance is placed on the performers to…well…perform, or rather, carry the scene. With such stalwarts as George Marion and Marie Dressler, it is not hard to do. And Brown makes the absolute most of Cedric Gibbons’ sincere production design, capturing the moody gloom and foggy of O’Neill’s stagecraft without slavishly anchored to it. Thalberg was taking no chances with Anna Christie, putting Frances Marion on the payroll to adapt it for the screen. Marion’s main contribution here is to excise O’Neill’s considerable profanity, while employing expertly contrived euphemisms to still retain the bite in O’Neill’s prose. In the end, everyone associated with the production benefited from being in it.   

Anna Christie arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC); a quality affair expunged of nearly a century of age-related grit and goo. The result is a generally smooth, sharp and appealing 1080p transfer. The overall crispness in this refurbished print reveals the glaring shortcomings of early rear-projection mattes. But otherwise, this looks as it should, with good contrast (a few minor fluctuations), exceptional clarity, and a light smattering of film grain appearing as it should.  As Anna Christie’s theatrical debut marks the dawn of sound, do not expect much from this 2.0 DTS mono mix. Most of the picture was shot live. Primitive mics pick up background noise, hiss and other extemporaneous sounds competing with the dialogue. This is as good as any early sound mix. So, the shortcoming is with the original elements, not this remastering effort. WAC includes the German sound version of Anna Christie, directed by Jacques Feyder, but afforded no restoration and looking quite rough by comparison. We also get an excerpt from MGM Parade – the studio’s mid-fifties attempt to use the medium of television to promote its back catalog of stars, as well as upcoming theatrical releases. Finally, there is a Lux Radio version of Anna Christie, starring Joan Crawford and Spencer Tracy, and a Looney Tunes cartoon short, The Booze Hangs High. Bottom line: Anna Christie is Garbo’s first sound-era classic. There would be several others in her canon before Garbo, tired of the Hollywood machinery and obsessive nature of her fan base, chose instead to permanently retire from the fray, living in self-imposed exile in Manhattan for the rest of her days. Is it a great film? Let us suggest, it remains a fascinating one on several levels, if not exactly one for the ages. WAC’s Blu is a solid affair. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

2