The Unholy Three (1930)

The Unholy Three (1930), directed by Jack Conway, 3.5 stars

“That’s all there is to life – just a little laugh, a little tear.” – Professor Echo

Lon Chaney was late getting into sound pictures.  He made only one, a remake of his 1925 hit, “The Unholy Three,” and it was to be his last film. Just over a month after its release, he died from bronchial, throat, or lung cancer, depending on which of the many online biographies you read.  One of the reasons he may have chosen this to be his first foray into sound was because it not only featured the actor in disguise, it also gave him the opportunity to show off his ability to create several distinct voices, giving rise to the film’s ad campaign, which touted with typical Hollywood hyperbole, “The Man of a Thousand Faces is now the Man of a Thousand Voices!”

The plot of the film is nearly identical to its silent forbear, though economically pared down from 86 to 72 minutes.  I’ve seen many argue that the original, directed frequent Chaney collaborator Tod Browning is the superior of the two films, and at first glance, the remake creates very little that is new or different if you subtract the vocal track.  However, it is exactly because of the now precious on-screen presence of Chaney’s commanding voice(s) that this film is worthy of note, and because it is, it’s equally interesting to take a look at some of the changes that were made and to speculate as to why they were.

First, there are two new very brief comedic bits that take place at the start of the film during Professor Echo’s (Chaney) ventriloquist act.  His dummy offers to sing a song a song titled “She Was a Butterfly’s Daughter,” which opens with the title line followed by “But he was a son of a bee.”  Echo immediately covers the dummy’s mouth and admonishes him to behave.  A few moments later, he projects a female voice into the audience which causes a sailor to put the moves on a young lady standing beside him.  Many Hollywood films of the early 1930s pushed conservatives Americans to the limit, resulting in a significant clamping down by censors in the summer of 1934.

The next difference is in the introductions of the various characters.  The gorilla, who plays a key role late in the film, is brought in much earlier, and the antipathy between the animal and Hercules (Ivan Linow), makes much more sense after we see the strong man antagonize the ape with a slingshot.  Echo’s warning to Hercules goes unheeded:  “You’re gonna do that once too often and he’ll tear you to pieces.”  An even smaller difference, but a curious one, occurs during the first interaction between Echo and Rosie O'Grady (Lila Lee).  In the silent version, Echo offers her a steak dinner for being such a good pickpocket.  In this film, he offers her steak with mushrooms, and it’s the mushrooms (not the steak, as in the original) that impel her to reveal the rest of her stash to him.  I wonder if this is a depression-era update denoting, perhaps, one particular frill that is no longer available (or affordable) to the working class.  Getting back to character intros, there’s one change worth noting.  Like Hercules, Tweedledee, the midget (Harry Earles) is clearly a much darker character in the sound film.  The last of the unholy three to be introduced, when the barker (Richard Carle) alerts him that it’s nearly time for him to do his act and they’ve got a good crowd of nice people, Tweedledee goes into a bitter rant, which ends with “I’d like to poison them all.”  This better sets up the following scene in which he responds to a young boy’s taunts by kicking him in the face.

Fred Kelsey and Lon Chaney

Perhaps, the biggest difference is in the endings of the two films.  In the original, Echo confesses and is forgiven for his crimes.  He releases Rosie from her promise to remain with him and returns with his manikin to the carnival.  In the remake, Echo in the guise of Grandma O’Grady is unmasked in the witness stand by the District Attorney (John Miljean) and receives a one-to-five year prison sentence.  Once again, he frees Rosie to find happiness in the arms of another man, but this time, with the lovers united and the train pulling out of the station on its way to the penitentiary, Echo calls out his final words from the observation car: “I’ll send you a postal card.”  As the screen fades to black, Chaney waves one last time to the screen.  Exit way too soon one of the greatest, multi-talented entertainers ever to grace the movie screen.