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Annie Laurie, 1927 – ★★★★

great show

Lillian Gish (1893-1993) spent seventy-five years in motion pictures, starting with DW Griffith in 1912. She was quite possibly the greatest actress in the history of film, and was known as ‘The First Lady of American Cinema’.

At the point of her career that she made ‘Annie Laurie’ she was in something of a decline at MGM, but she has star quality that reaches down through the years and continues to engage and move audiences.

She can achieve more in a smile, a wistful glance, or eyes full of tears, than any of her peers, and does it effortlessly. And in this film she was not even firing on all cylinders, due to personal troubles with her mother’s illness during production, yet she is still mesmerising.

At the Barbican Centre after showing at the Hippodrome Festival of Silent Cinema in Falkirk earlier this year, this BFI print was accompanied by live music composed by Shona Mooney and performed by her with Alasdair Paul and Amy Thatcher.

The score, which was fiddle-led and included the title melody itself along with ‘The Campbells Are Coming’ and other traditional snippets, fitted the film very well and made this epic (not 90 minutes as billed, but in fact nearer 120 minutes) a perfect Sunday afternoon wallow.

‘Annie Laurie’ is basically the story of the feud between the Campbell and MacDonald clans with a large amount of artistic licence, as the centerpiece of the Glencoe massacre is presented within the framework of a romantic triangle in which Annie (Gish) is courted by Donald Campbell (Creighton Hale) – who despite playing the lute and singing her praises doesn’t shrink from committing mass murder on behalf of his monarch – and desired with rather more wildness by Ian MacDonald (Norman Kerry), who wears a kilt and not much else with some panache.

Incidentally while Gish remained in feature roles for several years, Kerry’s career came to an end shortly after the arrival of sound, and although Hale remained in pictures, it was largely in uncredited roles until the end of the 1950s.

Both actors are rather broad players to modern eyes, but you can see what female audiences might have seen in Kerry, who appeared to good effect in ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ and ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ earlier in the decade.

It’s Gish who holds the interest here, though, flirting, worrying, grieving, and finally making her final run to save her man from certain death (leading to a charming two-strip Technicolor finish where all ends well – this film would have looked wonderful with colour throughout).

The only other female role goes to the rather insipid Patricia Avery, in her first of only four films, as the Campbell girl who is taken off in the arms of the virile Alastair MacDonald (Joseph Striker, who is guilty of a bit of over-acting) and then declines to go home.

Although Scotland may be portrayed with a Hollywood tinge, where everyone wears kilts, sword-dances, caber-tosses, and in the case of the MacDonalds, just stop short of ripping animals apart for food with their bare hands, the very basic plot does convince, and the bits of comedy from John Ford alumnus Russell Simpson as Sandy fit well against the more melodramatic passages, the rather sweet interplay between Gish and Kerry as they reluctantly fall in love, and the drama of the final battle.

Vía Letterboxd – loureviews

Incidentally, let’s consider fact from fiction here.  ‘Annie Laurie’ uses the real Glencoe massacre as a major plot point on which to hang its fictional characters.

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