Jealousy will
drive you mad. It’s an obvious cliché for relationships but is the foundation
for the deranged acts the character Alonzo, in Tod Browning’s The Unknown,
commits. Lon Cheney’s portrayal of Alonzo really drives that platitude home.
The seemingly caring and empathetic, yet "armless", character finds his downfall in
the unrequited love of a teasing woman. The viewer begins the film seeing a man
who loves a “tormented” woman who is afraid of men’s hands. He believes that
since he is armless he can win her heart because he does supposedly doesn’t
have what she fears. This sentiment of love and caring quickly devolves into
obsession as he sees other men stealing her attention away from him. The
narration of The Unknown along with Chaney’s facial expressions show how
this once (supposedly) loving man, is truly unhinged by fear of losing a woman
he believes belongs to him.
It is easy to see
that, in the beginning, Alonzo thinks there is mutual love between him and
Nanon, but then we see the progressive mutation into a type of psychotic ownership
over her. The narration moves from caring about Nanon and her fears to phrases
like, “she belongs to me,” “I will have her,” and “she is mine.” This type or
possessive language is coupled with intense facial expressions shows the view a
decline in sanity. Although the film itself is silent, the viewer gets a strong
sense of yelling and ranting coming from Alonzo. This behavior isn’t exactly
attractive, nor is it becoming of a man supposedly in love. He is a man who clearly
experiences the extremes of emotions, blissful happiness or deranged anger.
There’s not a lot of in between for a man like Alonzo.
Chaney’s features
contort in a way that makes the viewer cringe. Because in a silent film,
features must be exaggerated, the viewer is able to have an even stronger
visceral response to the portrayal of possessiveness and madness of just his
face and how Alonzo is truly a crazy individual. Upon first viewing the
thought, “I would never want to be alone in the same room with that person,”
came across my mind more than once. Obviously, that is the point when you have
a character like Alonzo. Lon Chaney’s performance of Alonzo thoroughly depicts
the dissent into madness.
There is great
juxtaposition, then, between the expressions and words of Alonzo and the
strongman, Malabar. Malabar’s words and physical representations are soft, if
not a little dopey. Norman Kerry, the actor portraying Malabar, seemingly has an easy job to do because there is not must in way of substance to the character of Malabar. His facial expressions provide an innocence that is lacking
in Alonzo. Even the cameral lighting on Malabar is soft. His words are
construed as sweet and sadly misunderstood to his object of affection. His
language is never possessive. This representation of Malabar lends itself to
what the perfect man should be: physically strong but tender and kind, in other
words, completely opposite of what Alonzo is. This opposition both highlights the perceived goodness of Malabar, and makes Alonzo's madness that much more distressing.
Further showing the decline of sanity, Alonzo's decision to actually cut off his arms comes at a time when he truly believes that Nanon is finally his. This decision is clearly not rational or sane to the normal person, however, Alonzo can't exactly be categorized as sane anymore. When Alonzo's delusion of possessing Nanon and her love is eventually shattered, we see a full range of emotions displayed on Lon Chaney's face. The possibly most distressing response of that mental breakdown is the laughter. There is something terrifying about an insane person hysterically laughing about a bad situation.
Overall the importance of facial expressions and body language cannot be understated in a silent film. It is easy to portray the dopey strong man, but to play the in love deranged man can be no mean feat. Lon Chaney does a great job providing an uneasiness for the viewer watching the decline of sanity in his portrayal of Alonzo.
Well, we move in and out of cultural commonplaces, don't we? Hence, maybe, the statement that there "are only so many stories to tell...and retell." And so it's often all about historical context merging with personal aesthetic craft to re-present a "strangely familiar" tale in a way that can resurrect what made that tale provocative "in the first place" (whenever that was!). You present a convincing case that The Unknown does just this--with our presumptions about "maddening jealousy." I agree: the film becomes a tragedy for this very reason. These things said, I want to add that your emphasis on body language/facial expression seems essential for a discussion of this film (or any of Chaney's works, for that matter). If the subject interests you, then you may have the germs of a future paper here....
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jess.
MH