The Thief of Bagdad (1924)

A publicity image which, like the film itself, combines realism with expressive
artifice to create a vibrant fantasy world.

The Thief of Bagdad is, by far and away, the most visually impressive of Fairbanks' films. Massive sets, elaborate costumes, state of the art special effects, and a cast of thousands make for one of the biggest and most spectacular films of its day. Visually, it is a veritable feast of loveliness, although its creative effects never for an instant look real. When Fairbanks slays a dragon, flies through the air on a winged horse, or visits mermaids at the ocean floor, it is evident that these feats are achieved through a composite of models and camera tricks. But then, this is fantasy. The point is to look beautiful, not real.

His Majesty, The American (1919)

Douglas Fairbanks, looking rather pleased with himself.

His Majesty, The American***  was one of the last comedies Fairbanks made in the 10's, and also one of the most elaborate. The formula had hardly changed from his early Triangle Pictures releases: a robust and energetic young man must make his way (joyfully) through the world to win the hand of the girl of his dreams, through a series of contrived challenges that involve a lot of jumping and climbing on things. In this particular instance, the girl of his dreams happens to be his mother, who he has never met, but there's also a beautiful young princess on hand to fill the romantic gap this creates.

Reaching for the Moon (1930)

Douglas Fairbanks as Larry Day in Reaching for the Moon

"The microphone is ruthlessly unkind to [Fairbanks]," wrote a New York Times critic in 1934, "Neither in voice nor theatrical skill is he gifted to read lines." Unfortunately, writer/director Edmund Goulding also didn't do him any favors, as this second Fairbanks talkie, Reaching for the Moon, thoroughly demonstrates. (Fairbanks himself wrote his next film, Mr. Robinson Crusoe. Sadly, it is even worse). On top of this, DVD distribution companies like his voice even less; the production quality of the Passport Video release of this film makes it all but unwatchable. Having sat through a 74 minute mess of blurry, jumpy picture and and audio that sounds like it was recorded in a railway tunnel, I find that while Fairbanks does nothing to save this shoddy script, neither do Bing Crosby or Bebe Daniels. The only truly memorable performance is given by Edward Everett Horton, a year or two before he found his true calling as Fred Astaire's perennial valet at RKO. I've heard a rumor that the art deco sets used for this film are magnificent, but I wouldn't know, as I've never seen them. Yes, the DVD is that bad.

His Picture in the Papers (1916)

Douglas Fairbanks as Pete Prindle, looking for his name in the paper. It isn't there.

I generally find that I know more or less what to expect from a film before I see it. I may not know if I will like it or not, although I usually have a pretty good idea of that too, but seldom does a film surprise me as much as this one did. His Picture in the Papers is clever and original (what movie wasn't at least a little original in 1916?); it is quirky, unpredictable, and utterly charming, a tale of love, advertising, and vegetarian cooking. What more could you ask?

Wild and Woolly (1917)

Douglas Fairbanks as Jeff Hillington in his New York City apartment.

In Wild and Woolly, Douglas Fairbanks plays Jeff Hillington, the son of a New York railroad magnate. He is obsessed with the Old West. Certifiably obsessed. His home and office have been turned into vast playgrounds for his hobby. He has tee-pees, six-shooters, model horses, and enough campy wild west paraphernalia to fill the Fort Worth stockyards twice over. Everyone around him simply accepts that he's a bit of a nut, and they humor his fantasies enough to get by (he is the boss's son, and those six-shooters are loaded, after all).

The Gaucho (1927)

Douglas Fairbanks as The Gaucho, perched on his horse.

The Gaucho is Fairbanks at his very finest. He was in the best shape of his life. His stunt sequences had been getting progressively more elaborate throughout his career, and by 1927 were just dazzling. Raw athleticism combined with his rugged good looks and boyish charm made Fairbanks a joy to watch. It is not that he is stronger or more agile than other performers. Impressive as his work is, it would not be hard to find a dozen performers who could duplicate any of his on-screen acrobatics. No, it is not the technical difficulty of his performance that makes him legendary but the grace and pizazz he brings to his feats of skill. It almost seems, at times, that extra tables surely are put into every film set just so Fairbanks will have more props to leap over effortlessly, a wide grin on his face the whole time.

The Films of Douglas Fairbanks: Introduction

Douglas Fairbanks

In the 1920's, Douglas Fairbanks was the biggest action star the world had ever known, but he got there in a round about sort of way. He started out in comedy, making simple “boy-meets-girl-but-then-something-gets-in-the-way-so-he-has-to-get-chased-all-over-town-and-perform-outlandish-stunts-before-he-can-marry-her” films, not unlike the Harold Lloyd thrill-seekers of the 1920's. Fairbanks’ comedies are all but forgotten today in favor of his better-known adventure films, but it was in comedy that he first established himself as one of the three most successful stars in Hollywood, along with Charlie Chaplin and Fairbanks’ own future wife, Mary Pickford. For several years, Fairbanks had become increasingly involved in the practical side of filmmaking, leading up to his co-founding of United Artists with Chaplin, Pickford, and director D.W. Griffith in 1919. When he made his first foray into serious action films with 1920’s The Mark of Zorro, Fairbanks was a well-established star of thirty-seven, and a full career reboot was the last thing anyone could have expected, particularly when this meant taking on projects of a scale and complexity that made them phenomenally more expensive than his earlier works. The Mark of Zorro was a hit, however, and Fairbanks never looked back. Over the next nine years he made a total of eight more costumed adventure films, cementing his reputation as cinema’s first (and arguably greatest) swashbuckler.