Nomads of the North

No matter how much we adore early cinema, how many silent films we watch, or how many modern films that lovingly depict productions of the silent era, it never ceases to amaze how very different the medium was one hundred years ago. Even as many filmmakers were innovating, developing new techniques and technology, there's no mistaking the relative simplicity with which scenes were orchestrated and shot, and with which narratives were constructed, and how stark the disparity between contemporary approaches to acting and those that would come to take over heading toward and following the advent of the talkie. None of this is any reflection on a given title's quality, though I can understand how some modern viewers may have a harder time engaging with such works. All this is to say that as 'Nomads of the north' begins it shows itself to bear all the hallmarks of a period long past - yet for those who are open to the style, it's also readily endearing, and very well made. More than that, though, over the course of these 100 minutes the whole increasingly builds strength in every capacity, impressing more and more. I might stop short of saying it wholly demands viewership, but I'm pleased to say this holds up very well, and in my opinion stands taller than a lot of other flicks of its time.

Even early in the length I'm struck by how carefully and artistically the picture was crafted. The camera may be fairly static, yet between David Hartford's direction and Walter L. Griffin's cinematography we're treated to smart, fetching shot composition that in and of itself is aesthetically pleasing - some small moments are plainly beautiful - and each shot and scene is executed with a creative panache that spiritedly promotes the drama therein. In turn any particular concern for the camerawork or framing is ameliorated as Hartford and Griffin more than make up for any relative shortcoming. To much the same point, much of the silent era was characterized by acting of exaggerated facial expressions and body language, a method ported over from the stage that served to compensate for the lack of verbal dialogue and sound; only in bits and pieces, and with some resistance, did a more nuanced, natural method develop over time, which in due course would become the norm in the sound era. In this 1920 feature I think the players somewhat split the difference: the performances are maybe not perfectly fluid and organic, yet are surely marked with more subtlety and sobriety than we often saw in other pieces of the time. As a result the underlying emotions, and the gravity of the characters, the portrayals, and the scenario in which they are all swept up, are more impactful and absorbing. Again, 'Nomads of the north' may not be a total revelation, but in my mind it easily towers over no few of its contemporaries.

This isn't to say that the movie is free of valid criticism. Producers and filmmakers didn't always pause for consideration of animal rights, animal labor, and humane treatment, and among other non-human participants, I have nagging doubts about how a prominent dog and bear cub were handled, and the situations into which they were placed. Such matters do not severely diminish the otherwise value here, but I think there's an unfortunate asterisk to be placed beside the film's name, no differently than those silent westerns in which "Wonder Horses" often performed dangerous stunts. Still, with this firmly in mind, in pretty much every other way this picture is such a great treasure. The filming locations are truly gorgeous, and for as much of a presence as the wild landscapes have here - a clear effort to foster an appreciation for the natural world - one is somewhat reminded of the works of Swedish master Victor Sjöström, such as 'Terje Vigen' and 'The outlaw and his wife,' in which the very surrounding environs seemed to take on life of their own and become another full-bodied character. The sets, costume design, and hair and makeup are all marvelously rich with fine detail, and the crew who operated behind the scenes deserve much love for their contributions. This is to say nothing of those stunts and effects that were employed: from miniatures, lighting, and environmental effects, to fights, to a major sequence in the back end that accordingly put the stars at very real risk of injury, everything herein looks terrific in helping to give shape to the tableau.

All this brings us to the plot, which also reminds to some degree of Sjöström's oeuvre as the wilderness plays so significant a part. The tale is comparatively straightforward and uninvolved, and particularly seems so at the outset. Just as is true of other elements, though, the saga becomes ever more engrossing as the length advances, with some especially dark beats and ideas amidst a bounty of substantial emotions and robust drama. I'm not familiar with James Oliver Curwood's novel, but in adapting it he and filmmaker Hartford whipped up a fantastic screenplay with vibrant scene writing, strong characters, and an overall story that bears hefty airs of adventure amidst the human entanglements. If in the beginning I was a tad nonplussed, well before the ending rolls around I was wholly enraptured by the narrative on hand; the feature is ultimately far more superb than first meets the eye. And as if anything else here weren't roundly excellent, I really am pleased with just how good the cast is. The "Man of a Thousand Faces,' Lon Chaney, today stands as the single recognizable actor, but everyone here is equally splendid. Among others, Betty Blythe, Francis McDonald, and Lewis Stone absolutely leave their mark on the proceedings alongside Chaney, embodying their characters with such earnestness and emotional depth that shoulder much of the vitality herein, and are just as critical to the title's success as anything else.

All told this may stop short of striking as deeply as some other silent classics, with perhaps a smidgen less thought applied than would be ideal toward allowing the power of the drama to achieve its full potential. The pacing and tone are ever so slightly variable, and to a marginal extent 'Nomads of the north' leans toward vibes of adventure rather than latch onto the tumult of feelings at the core of the saga. Frankly, though, this is nitpicking; a fraction of lag here, a kernel of abruptness there - even the issue of animal handling doesn't meaningfully detract at all from the magnificence of what this otherwise represents. In whatever measure the movie is imperfect, or isn't as absolutely stellar as other works of the time, for the level on which this operates the distinction is meaningless. I assumed when I sat to watch I'd enjoy it, but ultimately this handily exceeds my expectations, and I'm a little taken aback that it's not more visible and well-known among its silent brethren. I, for one, could hardly be happier with just how good 'Nomads of the north' is; it may not be a pure must-see, but it would be a mistake to pass this up, and I'm glad to give it my very high and hearty recommendation!