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In Old Arizona
[Blu-ray]
Blu-ray ALL - America - Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment Review written by and copyright: Ethan Stevenson (11th September 2013). |
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The Film
 What is it about the Old West that made it the scenic backdrop for not one but two early landmarks in American Cinema? Did something about the wide-open frontier, populated by audacious adventurers, pioneers and roguish cowboys speak to the filmmakers of early silent, and then early sound cinema? Did they see themselves in those mythic figures of the West as they explored the vast unknown frontier of filmmaking? Or is it all merely coincidence? Edwin S. Porter’s “The Great Train Robbery” (1903)—a Western featuring gun-wielding bandits who attempt the titular train robbery only to be foiled by a woman, her father and righteous townsfolk who send the robbers to their doom—is one of the earliest examples of extended narrative filmmaking. Of course, at the turn of the 20th century, when film was in its infancy, the extended narrative still only amounted to about 12 minutes of screen time. But brief runtime or no, “Robbery” was a immense innovation, an immeasurably influential film at the time, not only for the editing techniques and rudimentary camera movement Porter used to tell this story. Porter also employed on-location photography, which was nearly unheard of at the time, especially when dealing with the scope—quaint though it seems today—of a film a quarter hour in length. Another Western, made some 25 years later, was a milestone for movies too, and once again its use of on-location shooting is one of the major reasons why it’s remembered—if at all—today. That film in question is “In Old Arizona”, a production notable for being Hollywood’s first all-talking sync-sound production shot on location (in the deserts of Utah and California, but, curiously, not Arizona). “In Old Arizona” is loosely based on O. Henry’s “The Caballero’s Way”, the 1907 short story which introduced The Cisco Kid into the lexicon of pop-literature characters. (Something that is just a strange coincidence: O. Henry was the pen name William S. Porter, who was of no relation to Edison Studios’ Edwin). In the original O. Henry story, The Cisco Kid was a ruthless rogue who murdered many for little reason beyond a chance for profit and personal gain. The version of the character seen in “Old Arizona”, played by silent-star-turned-talkie-totem Warner Baxter, is a much more likeable mischief-maker. A bandit still, but not quite bad, it’s actually the lawman, an army sergeant named Mickey Dunn (Edmund Lowe), and the Kid’s wanton woman-friend Tonia Maria (Dorothy Burgess)—who shacks up with Dunn when the Kid’s away being a black-hatted bandito—that are meant to be seen in a far less favorable light. There isn’t much to the story, despite the at-times painfully protracted near-100 minute runtime. Simply, “Arizona” just doesn't have enough to fill the hour and a half it demands—a result of writer Tom Barry’s iffy adaptation and expansion from a short story that attempted less but managed to do more with greater economy. Also working against the film is its antiquated mesh of silent and sound styles, which seem at odds with each other. Actors speak their dialogue, but still attempt to “enhance” their performance with over-the-top exaggeration thought need to express without words. A few heists and the twisted, maddeningly melodramatic love-triangle between the film’s three central characters fill the runtime as best they can. Tonia is torn between her tugging loves for the black-hat bandit (The Cisco Kid) and $5,000 reward she'd share with the white-hat Dunn if she turns Cisco in. The plot twists and turns, but there’s few genuine surprises (save one) and the pace is plodding at best. Some amusing musical interludes also attempt to fill gaps with noise for noise’s sake. “Arizona” is an artifact of American cinema, fit for academic study, not entertainment. The picture’s pleasures are few and far between, namely taking form in the striking desert scenery and location photography, which offers some stunning views and, like many old films, makes for a true window into the past. As an artifact, and piece of motion picture history, the film is incredibly interesting. The romantic interplay between Tonia Maria and her two men is rare pre-Code stuff; not exactly explicit, but far less puritanical than anything bearing the pudgy paw marks of Will Hayes or those of his self-righteous successors. (There’s one particularly funny scene where the camera moves in on a sizzling pan sitting atop a campfire, crackles and all alluding to the sexy-times characters presumably engage in just off-screen.) And, it has to be said, there’s something sort of fascinating about watching the era of sound unfold right in front of your eyes. “In Old Arizona” was not the first feature-length film to use the then new technology of motion picture sound. As most know, apart from a few short subjects and odd experiments, Warner’s “The Jazz Singer” (1927) was the first feature-length “talkie”, if only a partial one (Jolson’s singing, all sound effects and score, and a few incidental lines of dialogue play out against other silent-era conventions, including inter-titles). The adoption of sound was, as is the case with most new technologies, a gradual, if comparably swift, shift. Fox released their first film with a soundtrack a few weeks before Warner; F.W. Murnau’s “Sunrise” (1927) used the superior optical sound-on-film Movietone sound system, but only for effects and the musical score (and one instance of unsynchronized dialogue). Fox, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and even Disney continued to experiment with sound into 1928; Warner released the first 100-percent all-talking picture in July of that year, with the crime-drama “Lights of New York” (1928). inter-title On Christmas Day, 1928, “In Old Arizona” was producer William Fox’s first 100-percent all-talking picture, and it was also the first sound film shot outdoors. Because it was one of the first, the film has many a near-fatal flaw in its implementation of sound. Sometimes horses are accompanied by the hammering gallop of hooves, and other times they aren’t (this problem is even worse on the Blu-ray’s “restored” audio track, which has erased some of the effects in a botched attempt to clean up a source of otherwise poor clarity; more on this below in the A/V review). Dialogue is garbled and outright unintelligible when too many people (more than one person) talk at once. And there are a handful of scenes that remind of poor Lina Lamont, in the "Dueling Cavalier" scenes in “Signin’ in the Rain” (1952), where she keeps moving around the frame, her dialogue raising and lowering in volume as she does. There’s an inordinate amount of dead space in-between dialogue too (some gaps almost seem like a pause for an inter-title). A 90 second Overture that opens the picture to a black screen notwithstanding, music is often charmingly supplied by the on-screen talent themselves. Many scenes in “Old Arizona” open or close with a static shot of actors signing old folk songs in the halls of an old Mission, under the shade of a tree, or around a campfire, with the camera or characters moving on to what’s really important in the scene after a brief musical interlude. The songs serve little purpose than to fill time. Amusingly, Baxter sings a few tunes, including one to his beloved Tonia; his performance is what supposedly gave rise to the popularity of the singing cowboy in B-movie Westerns of the 30's and 40's. Innovation and experimentation with sound aside “Arizona” is still a footnote in film history, because it was nominated for 5 Academy Awards, including Best Cinematography, Best Director, Achievement in Best Writing, and Best Picture. For his turn as The Cisco Kid, Baxter won the second ever Oscar for Best Actor in a Leading Role. It can't be stressed, watching “Arizona” makes it painfully obvious that everyone was still figuring out the whole talking-picture thing, directors and actors included. It seems the cast and crew of "Arizona" ran with the belief that what worked before, in the silent era, would work in sound, hence the somewhat hammy delivery. The praise for Baxter's overly broad, showy turn probably made sense at the time. Today, it’s hard to believe the performance was actually award worthy—though Baxter can be thoroughly charming at times, too. Unlike many of his silent-star counterparts, Baxter made a smooth transition from silent movies to sound. In his silent days, he starred in a number of leading-man parts, including as Jay Gatsby in the sadly now lost “The Great Gatsby” (1926), which is supposedly the best adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Great American Novel. He would return over the years to play The Cisco Kid in a series of sequels for Fox into the 1940's, and also appeared in the Warner Brothers musical “42nd Street” (1933), John Ford’s “The Prisoner of Shark Island” (1936), and Darryl F. Zanuck production of Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Kidnapped” (1938), where he played alongside Freddie Bartholomew. Also coming out of “In Old Arizona” unscathed was original director Raoul Walsh, who directed an indeterminate number of scenes (surely, a scant few… if any), and had intended to star as The Cisco Kid, before an accident forced him off the project as both leading man and director (Irving Cummings replaced him in the latter capacity). Oh, sure, “Arizona” is the film in which Walsh famously lost his eye—and thus forever joined the prestigious pantheon of eye-patched picture-makers—when a jackrabbit caused him to crash his car while scouting locations. And the injury forced Walsh to retire from acting, ending a perhaps promising career in sound cinema before it even began. But he continued to direct for years, helming a number of other Westerns, including early Widescreen aberration “The Big Trail” (1930), which starred a then unknown John Wayne, as well as the Lupino and Bogie noir-blast “High Sierra” (1941) and James Cagney gangster pic “White Heat” (1949). Plus, the eye-patch made Walsh look like a badass for the rest of his life. That, and I suppose the innovations with Movietone sound-on-location, is what "In Old Arizona" should be remembered for.
Video
“In Old Arizona’s” 1080p 24/fps AVC MPEG-4 encode reflects the relatively rough condition, and literal wear and tear, of the black-and-white 35mm film elements used as the basis for this transfer, replete with scratches, wobble, flicker, slice-marks, jump cuts from missed frames, and other age-related anomalies frequently seen in films of the vintage. I seriously doubt the original negative was used—I question that it still even exists, considering the Fox vault fire in the 1930's and the studio's poor preservation practices into the 1970's—and little restoration seems to have been performed, but I’m also thankful Fox hasn’t attempted to over-digitize the image with digital noise reduction or artificial sharpening. A (fluctuating) layer of grain is present at all times, and there are a few scenes where genuine detail shines through. “In Old Arizona” is 85-years-old and, frankly, it looks it, but issues and all—considering the age and condition of the source—this is a decent looking transfer. Note: Fox has transferred the film in its original aspect ratio of 1.19:1, which is the proper ratio of many early sound-on-film productions made before the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences standardized the 1.37:1 (“Academy”) ratio in 1932. This leaves larger-than-usual bars on the side of the frame.
Audio
Fox had included two soundtrack options: a “Restored” track in English DTS-HD Master Audio 1.0 mono (48kHz/24-bit), and an unrestored “Historical” track in English Dolby Digital 1.0 mono (192 kbps). This has to be a first, but I actually preferred the texture and clarity of the unrestored Dolby track, age-related damage and all. Let’s be clear, neither track sounds particularly impressive. Both are hindered by the limited dynamics of 85-year-old recording equipment and a general lack of atmosphere (limited to the productions few cheap effects, like sizzling bacon on a campfire and galloping horses, which are surprisingly sporadic). The problem with the restored track is it seems to have had the aural equivalent of digital noise reduction broadly applied to it in order to smooth out the sounds of age. Instances of hissing, pops, and cracks are few and far between on the restored track. As are many other elements that should be, and are present, in the original mix. The defects may be gone, but seemingly so are highs and lows, which destroys female (and falsetto-voiced male) dialogue. The track has an oddly muffled, flattened midrange and the noise reduction has even stamped out some of the effects, including galloping horse hooves, which can be heard on the other track. The original “Historical” recording has its share of issues, too—namely a continuous hiss, and persistent pops and cracks, and even a few drop outs—but the track is much fuller sounding, louder, and overall a better—if still pretty spotty—experience. Optional English for the hearing impaired and Spanish subtitles have been included, although they’re of little use. I attempted to use the English subs in a few of the spottier sounding scenes to discern dialogue that’s unintelligible even on the louder unrestored Dolby track, and was met with phrases like “mutters something.”
Extras
There are no extras. An audio commentary from a film historian, or documentaries on the early days of sound cinema, the western genre in Hollywood, an overview of Fox studios in the 20's and 30's, or a retrospective on Raoul Walsh or Warner Baxter's career could've helped contextualize the film and the era in which it was made, and at least allowed modern audiences appreciate “In Old Arizona” as the academic artifact it is. Unfortunately none of that is included. The disc is authored with optional bookmarks and the resume playback function.
Packaging
“In Old Arizona” gallops into high definition as part of 20th Century Fox’s Studio Classics line. The single layered BD-25 is region free, and comes packaged in a simple eco-elite keep case.
Overall
As the first western—and indeed Hollywood’s first film ever—to be shot on location with sync-sound, “In Old Arizona” has historical significance beyond its five Oscar noms and one win in the earliest days of the Academy. Old though it is, “Arizona” is not a great, or even particularly good movie, with little going for it beyond sun-baked scenery and noted technical innovation. The Blu-ray is at the mercy of a questionable source, and holds the distinction of being the only time I've ever heard a lossy track sound considerably better than its lossless counterpart. The picture’s antiquated style will probably make it completely impenetrable to modern audiences, which leaves me to recommend “In Old Arizona” to serious students of film only.
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