Page 75 - Shakespeare in the Movie From the Silent Era to Shakespeare in Love

64 / Shakespeare in the Movies

Warner hoped (in vain) that such famous names would attract the
public despite a sudden turnabout of Shakespeare's status with the
mainstream. As Reinhardt struggled to create an acting style able to
bridge the gap between ultramodern performers and stylized poetic
dialogue, Jack Warner decided that the stage veteran (who had never
before helmed a motion picture) needed help and assigned studio
director William Dieterle. It proved a happy pairing; Dieterle was an
old friend of Reinhardt's from Germany, where the master had
awarded Dieterle his first acting job.
Now an experienced hand, Dieterle could take responsibility for
technical elements, leaving the sixty-two-year-old Reinhardt free to
concentrate on matters of image and interpretation. Never once did
Reinhardt concern himself with finances. Although Warner origi-
nally committed a then-whopping $1 million (the highest in the
studio's history to that date), Max quickly drove the cost up another
half million during his ninety-day shoot, not taking into account
months of preproduction or the task of later editing eighty-five miles
of film down to one hundred thirty-two minutes. For the forest,
Reinhardt ordered sixty-seven truckloads of trees and shrubs deliv-
ered to the largest soundstage in movie history up to that point, 350
feet long by 175 feet wide, which was larger than a football field.
The moment Reinhardt focused his intense theatrical lighting
system (forty arcs and 720 five thousand-watt lights) on the set, his
foliage wilted. Technicians rushed in to cover the plants with lumi-
nous paint, thus serendipitously adding to the magical quality of
Tinseltown's first Green World.
Owls, ravens, and turtle doves were brought in to complete the
textural density of an alternative universe. As the production con-
tinued, it took on ever more prestige—and expense. Felix
Mendelssohn's famed music, inspired by the play, was adapted for
inclusion by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, the studio's resident musical
genius. Also inserted: a Bronislawa Nrjinska ballet, transforming the
project into something far beyond Shakespeare. What organically
emerged might be considered an apotheosis of culture or a grotesque,
embarrassing example of kitsch, with a combination of talents most
critics insisted were ill met by moonlight.
When public response proved nil, Warner hurriedly trimmed away
thirty minutes (mostly from ballet sequences) for future showings.
(Long-missing footage has since been restored.) Critics expressed
mixed emotions; Time praised the breathtaking set designs and
cinematography but complained about the "monotonous howlings"