#screenland

The Film

Motion picture producer isn’t the first role that comes to mind when thinking of William Randolph Hearst. But, the newspaper magnate ventured into the movie business early in the medium’s inception. As one might expect, he started with newsreels. Hearst then expanded into producing serials before forming Cosmopolitan Productions in 1918. Cosmopolitan (sharing the name with the magazine Hearst also owned) would focus on feature filmmaking. Many of those features would serve as vehicles for Marion Davies, Hearst’s mistress and purported love of his life.

Now, cutting the trivia-minded off at the pass, Citizen Kane’s Charles Foster and Susan Alexander Kane took some inspiration from this real-life couple, but also from others. (And, BTW, to suggest that the fictional and real couples had a one-to-one correlation implies that Orson Welles was a hack!) Welles himself addressed the issue in the foreword he wrote for Davies’ 1975 memoir:

“Hearst put up the money for many of the movies in which Marion Davies was starred and, more importantly, backed her with publicity. But this was less of a favor than might appear. That vast publicity machine was all too visible; and finally, instead of helping, it cast a shadow—a shadow of doubt. Could the star have existed without the machine? The question darkened an otherwise brilliant career.

“[…] Marion Davies was one of the most delightfully accomplished comediennes in the whole history of the screen. She would have been a star if Hearst had never happened.”

Hearst may have shown questionable judgement as a producer at times, but he was correct about Davies’ potential as a great movie star. When Knighthood Was in Flower proved it to everybody else. Hearst was profligate in spending on Marion’s films and so the initial Davies-Cosmopolitan projects did not do particularly well critically or financially. It’s hard to turn a profit on a film you spent too much on in the first place! However, when Cosmopolitan obtained the rights to the best-selling Charles Major novel, outbidding Mary Pickford, they had finally found an ideal vehicle for the would-be star.

Davies as Mary Tudor in Knighthood

In Knighthood, Davies plays the sister of King Henry VIII of England, Mary Tudor (a.k.a. Mary, Queen of France, spoiler). The story covers the trials Mary faces when she falls in love with a commoner, captain of the guard Charles Brandon, but is compelled to marry the geriatric ruler of France to strengthen the relationship between the two kingdoms. 

Davies’ Mary is vivacious and sporty, slightly spoiled and capricious, but also sensitive and a bit naive. Davies brings Mary to life in a manner that was both charming and relatable to audiences. There are opportunities throughout Knighthood for Davies to play comedy, romance, tragedy, action, and even dip into the gothic with a spooky fortune-telling sequence and ne’er do wells haunting secret passages. Davies does it all in this film. Majority opinion was that she did it extremely well. Davies and her crew had found the right combination of elements to highlight her strengths and endear her to the viewing public.

Knighthood was a film that lived up to the hype engine that chugged away behind it. It’s a perfect “special” film. Labeling some films as “specials” was a method of product differentiation in the studio era that signified high production values—and a higher rental cost for exhibitors. Generally speaking, for that higher production value and cost to pay off, the film needed to be a draw for the biggest audience possible. With Knighthood, the creative team of Davies, director Robert G. Vignola, and scenic/production artist Joseph Urban put together a film that had a little bit of something for everyone, but constructed in a way that flows naturally and doesn’t feel patchwork.

The sets were massive and detailed, depicting both English and French courtly settings and a few humbler London settings. Some were built at the Cosmopolitan studio in Harlem and some outdoor sets were constructed out on Long Island. You’d never know that watching the film. Real antiques were sourced for use as props. Over 3,000 people appear in the film in period costume. Davies and the costuming team did months of research at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the New York Public Library. And, with Ira Morgan behind the camera, everything looks as expensive as it was. It seems a little gauche, and it seems like Davies thought so based on the remembrances in her memoir, but Hearst chose to promote Knighthood by shouting out the expense of making a film with both an epic scale and extreme attention to detail. 

Two-page spread emphasizing cost and scale of production in Motion Picture News, 23 December 1922

However, Knighthood never gets bogged down by historicity—it is a romance-adventure film after all! The touches that modernize and humanize the historical figures and add humour and levity make Knighthood’s attempts at historical verisimilitude feel more like icing on the cake rather than the substance of the film. Some of the touches I’m referring to here go beyond Davies’ characterization of Mary. The biggest example being the sibling dynamic between Henry and Mary, what I consider to be the true heart of the film. This ties directly into Davies’ thoroughly modern Mary because she’s presented as a young woman with her own thoughts, opinions, and desires battling the expectations placed on her. A feature that must have been relatable to young women seeing this film in the 1920s, young women who were experiencing more independence than their mother’s generation, but often found themselves in conflict with a society that was slow to accept changes in women’s societal roles. In Knighthood, the agent of repression is Mary’s brother, rather than her parents or society at large. The real-life Henry is softened here to a loving, but obstinate authority figure, a character that likely would have been a father in a flapper film. So, the crescendo of the film isn’t Mary finally getting to marry Brandon, but her achieving her desires and reconciling with the authority figure, Henry. I’m sure that sounds unserious, but, again, this is a romance-adventure film, never intended to be a meditation on Tudor history.

Knighthood’s success wasn’t solely based in the ingenious melding of cinematic storytelling formulae, it was also extremely on trend as a costume epic. Other pioneers of American spectacle, Douglas Fairbanks and Rex Ingram, also had big releases in theaters at the end of ‘22. Knighthood had its New York City premiere in September and Fairbanks’ Robin Hood premiered in October in Los Angeles. Ingram’s The Prisoner of Zenda had come out in late summer and would stay in regular circulation for years. (All three of these films made Screenland’s “Best Screen Dramas” long list.) Also premiering in September was Monte Cristo, starring John Gilbert, a film that also had a long theatrical run. This heavy competition didn’t hinder any of them from making bank. All these costume/adventure films with daring sword fights and nobles in disguise! Late 1922 also saw the releases of costume dramas of less swashbuckling nature with Blood and Sand in August, The Eternal Flame in September, and East is West in November. [1]

This strong trend plays into a big concern the U.S. film industry was tackling at the time: trying to gain respect for the artistry of their cinematic output. American films were popular and often regarded as technically sound, but they had a reputation for being too commercial and ephemeral. This was in contrast to European films, especially ones from Germany, that tried to elevate the medium to an artform on par with opera or theatre. These different production companies—Cosmopolitan, United Artists, Metro, and Fox—looked to respectable and respected source material and subject matter as a strategy to highlight artistry and suggest sophistication. All four films do an exemplary job of melding American sensibilities with their European influences.

In fact, in Martin J. Quigley’s review of the film in the 30 September issue of Exhibitors Herald he states outright:

“In view of picture history of the past year, ‘When Knighthood Was in Flower’ appears to be an ideal subject. It is a costume drama with court settings which permits the Cosmopolitan corporation to contend—and successfully—against various creditable things in this sphere that have been done by German producers. In a measure it follows the trail blazed by Griffith in ‘Orphans of the Storm,’ and by Fairbanks in ‘The Three Musketeers.’ At any rate we know that it is the type of picture that, if well done, the public is clamorous for at this time.”

Full-page ad for Knighthood in Movie Weekly, 12 August 1922

What Did Reviewers Think?

Aside from the Screenland honors from ‘24, When Knighthood Was in Flower made at least two best-of lists for 1922. It came in 5th in The Film Yearbook’s ranking and was featured in Robert E. Sherwood’s The Best Moving Pictures of 1922-1923.

Knighthood was well received by most critics upon its release. Note that some of these contemporary reviews should be taken with a grain of salt since Hearst controlled so many outlets and even reviewers that didn’t work for him had reason to curry his favor. That said, non-Hearst papers, trade publications, and fan magazines praised the film, though perhaps in a more measured fashion.

The most common repeated points of acclaim among contemporary reviews of Knighthood are: the impressive spectacle and epic scale (especially for a U.S.-made film), the beauty of its production design, cinematography, and lighting, and Marion Davies’ performance. Some reviewers went so far as to call Knighthood the premiere example of American film art—as opposed to simple commercial product. Knighthood’s tremendous scale being the most common point makes a lot of sense since Hearst chose to emphasize this element so strongly in promotion for the film.

On the other side of the Atlantic, the response was different. In Davies’ memoirs, she recounted that the English have a funny habit of listening to their film critics and, therefore, Knighthood did not do very well in the land where the story is set. Some of the criticism I came across from the U.K. shared the opinion that Americans simply did not have the range to tackle history. A few critics were infuriated by the American-ness and perceived inauthenticity of the film. To summarize, they found Knighthood unconvincing as a period piece, and were insulted that the historical figures were not depicted with sufficient deference and gravity.[2][3]

In contrast, at least one English critic picked up what Davies & Co. put down (as reproduced in the film’s press materials for exhibitors):

“…Those very learned young film critics did not like it because there were some Historical inaccuracies. I hope there were, for the story was very thrillingly told, beautifully produced, well acted, and superbly photographed. The film was not put out as historical data, nor was it written with the help of famous historians. The costumes and scenery were arranged and designed by brilliant English historians, not American, so the sneer about ‘jazzed history’ was rather ill-timed.” — Town Topics, London, Oct. 6th, 1922.

What Did Exhibitors Think?

Perusing the feedback from exhibitors sent into trade publications is invaluable if you want to gauge contemporary response outside the major cities in the U.S. to any given film of the silent era. For When Knighthood Was in Flower, I collected 62 reports across The Moving Picture World and Exhibitors Herald.[4] (I didn’t try to capture every report. I just wanted a decent sample size.)

Since Knighthood was a special production, it came with a higher rental fee. This was a perennial concern for exhibitors, who often reported to their peers if the elevated rental cost was justified. This is the most common evaluation point exhibitors brought up and for the sake of brevity I’ll call that “value.” The second main factor was “draw”, how many patrons were brought in and if it brought in new patrons from out-of-town, the rural crowd, or simply patrons of other theatres. The third was “reception,” where the exhibitor would report on the quality of the film—either their own assessment or summarizing feedback from their patrons. Depending on the community a given theatre served, the exhibitor might also include who among their patrons the film appealed to most by social or economic class, gender, age, and/or level of education or sophistication. Regardless of what each exhibitor’s community was like, the ideal quality was “pleasing to all classes.”

So, I broke down exhibitor feedback into positive, mixed, or negative based on how the exhibitors rated the value, draw, and reception of Knighthood in comparison to its higher rental fee. Positive feedback could be good reception, value, and/or drawing power. Mixed feedback usually implies one or more factors were good but one poor. Negative feedback indicates poor reception, value and/or draw (and warnings to other exhibitors).

Pie chart that shows positive feedback at 64.5%, mixed at 21%, and negative at 14.5%

By this point, I’ve read through a lot of exhibitor feedback for a lot of different types of films. Knighthood has some of the most overwhelmingly positive feedback of any special production I’ve yet come across. Films like Knighthood often come with more mixed responses because the rental fees are too judged too high, or because exhibitors from smaller cities and towns felt that productions of this style (period/costume dramas) or of this scale were more of a draw for urban or cultured patronage. Though some (9 out of 62) did cite the rental cost as too high, more reported that it was well worth the cost (22 of 62). In fact, the most common feedback presented was that the production was good and warranted its higher rental fee (38 of 62).

Knighthood was received well by all classes of patrons according to twenty-four exhibitors. At least three exhibitors noted that when they played the film for a multi-day run that attendance went up with each successive day and that they even had return business. This came as a surprise to some exhibitors because their general opinion was that costume dramas weren’t a draw (8 of 62)—though a few did say that costume dramas not being a draw stayed true in their smaller towns (4 of 62).

Another divisive factor was Knighthood’s length: five reported it was too long but four specifically noted that it didn’t feel too long to their patrons. One exhibitor added some useful context here, specifying that it wasn’t about the film’s pacing or that it was boring, but instead that in a small town with a small budget, their only musical accompaniment was a single pianist and longer films are too challenging! 

Now, in terms of drawing power, a decent chunk of exhibitors said Knighthood was great (20 of 62). Some noted that it brought in new patrons (5 of 62) and a couple reported turnaway crowds (2 of 62). Of the nine exhibitors who said it wasn’t a draw for them, seven suggested it wasn’t good for small towns. In the ensuing issues of the papers though, two exhibitors made a specific point to disagree and stated that Knighthood was a good draw for small towns.

Keeping in mind that Knighthood was an extremely costly production for the time, this feedback gives useful context to how this Marion Davies-Cosmopolitan film finally turned a profit. All the “free advertising” from the Hearst-owned papers and the spread of enthusiasm for the film coming out of major cities was paired with a film that was actually pleasing to a majority of film fans. Basically, all the necessary pieces fell into place.

With the knowledge that Knighthood was a good bet, some exhibitors went all out on their promotion of the film:

What Do I Think?

There’s no doubt that When Knighthood Was in Flower was a star-maker for Davies. Even watching the film 100+ years later, she’s sparkling and vivacious. Most of the humour still lands. Davies never looked more beautiful on film than in some of her close-ups here.

For me, Davies’ sword-fighting scene is a true highlight. In case you haven’t seen the film yet, the set up for the scene is as follows: Mary escapes with Brandon in disguise as a boy. They stop at an inn while trying to arrange transport out of England. Mary is left alone and one of the inn’s other patrons decides to give her a hard time. She challenges him to a fight. At first the man is not taking the situation seriously as he just meant to tease this fancily dressed, somewhat effeminate young person. Once Mary actually hits him with her sword, it gradually turns into a real fight. Davies trained heavily with experts for this scene and it shows. Fighting in character, Mary shows that she knows how to handle a sword and has great footwork, but is clearly inexperienced in real combat. The implication here could be that Mary may have received fencing instruction when she was growing up, but it would have been in a very controlled, genteel setting. I assume this isn’t historically based, but given how enthusiastic the real Henry VIII was about sports, it wouldn’t be a huge leap to assume that some of that enthusiasm was shared with his sibling. Anyhow, Mary is bested by the man, but not before getting a few good licks in. There are two moments where her demeanor makes an instant turn because she’s struck the man and is concerned that she’s hurt him. The humour of this quick change reminds me a little of Jackie Chan’s inflection of comedy via “guard dropping” in some of his fight scenes. It’s an outstanding bit of work.

Mary and her “tormentor” in Knighthood

Earlier I mentioned the modernizing of the characters. In my evaluation, when handled well, there is a distinct value to this strategy. Distant historical figures become living, breathing human beings. So, what do I mean when I say “handled well”? For one thing there should be a conscientious attempt to balance genre, artistic intent, and historicity. In the case of Knighthood, the intent was to make an epic, visually compelling, and entertaining film. Its genre is romantic adventure, but the filmmakers also included plenty of humour, and touches of horror and tragedy. Even though it recounts a fictionalized version of the events of a real person’s life, it is not a biopic in the generic sense.

This leads me onto historicity. The creative team for Knighthood had both grand and granular focus for presenting the story’s historical settings. This gives the film a sense of verisimilitude, which is a double-edged sword. It makes Knighthood distinctive and sophisticated in its art design, which is what Cosmopolitan was aiming for. And, obviously all historical fiction takes liberties with its source material, but there should be very informed decision making about what the liberties are and why they’re being taken. For Davies and crew, softening the images of the nobility of England and France was a necessary move to make a historical romantic film that was accessible to contemporary audiences. It’s worth debating if that’s a valid enough reason to smooth over terrible things that the real people did.

Mary and the French King in Knighthood

For me, the structure of the film and the generic conventions used in Knighthood should be sufficient for something like Henry VIII’s characterization—more fabrication than reality—to not be taken as documentary. For comparison, the film’s tone is not too far removed from Fairbanks’ Robin Hood and any viewer with sense isn’t going to come away from that film with a notion that they just watched a documentary about jolly old England. The filmmaking tells you that it’s not educational in the documentary sense. Of course, you can’t anticipate how every individual is going to process a piece of art, narrative or otherwise. The film image is powerful and often can become a viewer’s image of history—even educated viewers. Without a doubt, that was the Knighthood experience for some. But, for any artist, it must be a balancing act. You cannot always create for the lowest common denominator and still maintain a consistently high quality of art. Basically, this stuff’s complicated, but I think Knighthood navigates it pretty well by 1920s or 2020s standards.

An expert on the Tudor period would be better suited to weigh in on how the film handles the real history (and I’d personally love to see Dr. Kat’s response to the film). From a layman’s perspective, however, Knighthood’s production design, sets, costumes, props, etc. all feel real. Never do you catch yourself thinking about how this is all shot in New York. The French settings look and feel distinct from the English ones. And, all of the details are exquisite.

Knighthood holds up. It’s technically impeccable and has charming characters. Having the story pivot on a young woman’s resistance to being used as property is a nice modernizing twist.[5] Thanks to Undercrank Productions, we can still watch Knighthood in beautiful quality with great accompaniment by Ben Model. This one’s definitely worth checking out!

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Footnotes:

[1] A common talking point that I have come across in other research I’ve done about 1922 films is the surprise success of C.B. De Mille’s Manslaughter—also released in Sept. of ‘22. The surprise originated in the fact that the film wasn’t boosted as anything special, though it had a strong cast and crew and a decent budget. Now, looking at the release landscape of autumn ‘22 in the U.S., maybe the film stood out to exhibitors and audience members alike for not being a costume epic?

[2] For added context, around 1923, the U.S. film industry was on track to severely kneecap the domestic industry in the UK. So, I think English critics and film fans were fully justified to be salty about Americans representing English settings, stories, and people—especially figures that they hold in such high regard. (Tho, I will note that Walt Disney re-made Knighthood in the 1950s in England but that film is abysmal. So, British film industry of the 21st century, please give Mary Tudor her cinematic due by your own standards! I’d genuinely love to see it.)

[3] As an American, I was not brought up with any special reverence for the English royals. So, my take is that modernizing and/or Americanizing the Tudors wasn’t intended as disrespect, but rather an attempt to humanize distant historical figures. My general opinion is that, when done well, making humans from the past feel real, and even sometimes relatable, draws people into history and makes them more interested in it. That, in turn, improves their general perspective of other, living humans. That might seem practically sacrilegious to someone who believes in the divine right of kings, but this might just be a foundational difference of perspective!

[4] The specific issues were: Exhibitors Herald dated 27 January 1923, 10 March 1923, 24 March 1923, 28 April 1923, 19 May 1923, 26 May 1923, 2 June 1923, 9 June 1923, 7 July 1923, 21 July 1923, 28 July 1923, 4 August 1923, 29 September 1923, 3 November 1923; and The Moving Picture World dated 7 April 1923, 28 April 1923, 4 August 1923.

[5] Rather than foreshadow Anne Boleyn in the party scene, it would have been pretty cool to highlight Catherine of Aragon’s Ladies of Spain, especially since the sequence is framed around bringing new, foreign dances into the English court. But I digress.

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Sources / Further Reading:

The Best Moving Pictures of 1922-1923, Ed. Robert E. Sherwood

Exhibitors Herald, 2 September 1922 (advertisement), 30 September 1922 (review), 27 January 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 10 March 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 24 March 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 28 April 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 19 May 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 26 May 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 2 June 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 9 June 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 7 July 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 21 July 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 28 July 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 4 August 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 29 September 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 3 November 1923 (exhibitor feedback),

Exhibitors Trade Review, 14 October 1922 (advertisement), 20 January 1923 (press comments, advertisement), 17 February 1923 (exhibitor advertising)

The Film Daily, 17 September 1922 (review)

The Film Yearbook, 1922

Motion Picture Magazine, December 1922 (review)

Motion Picture News, 23 December 1922 (press comments, advertisement), 31 March 1923 (exhibitor advertising)

Movie Weekly, 12 August 1922 (letter from Robert G. Vignola, advertisement)

The Moving Picture World, 7 October 1922 (press comments), 3 March 1923 (exhibitor advertising), 7 April 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 17 April 1923 (exhibitor advertising), 28 April 1923 (exhibitor feedback), 4 August 1923 (exhibitor feedback)

Picture-Play Magazine,  May 1923 (fan letters), June 1923 (response to fan letter by Luther Reed)

Pictures and Picturegoer, November 1922 (review)

Press Sheets for Paramount, 1922

Screenland Magazine, November 1923, December 1923, January 1924, February 1924, April 1924 (Best Dramas Series)

The Times We Had by Marion Davies, 1975