In this series of reviews, we aim to shed new light on features from silent cinema. Some of the films we would like to highlight may even have been lost, their film elements so volatile as to be unsalvagable or already long destroyed by the ravages of time. In this article, we will be looking at My Cousin, a film first released in 1918.
Although we here at Old Time Review, are fans of silent cinema, we thought it might be interesting to delve into the opinion on some of its gems as written by reviewers of their day. This review was originally published in a January 1919 edition of Photoplay magazine:
The Review:
‘Enrico Caruso’s first photoplay is better than most people’s anticipations, and not as good as it might have been. This is no paradox: to most people Caruso is merely an incarnate voice, the world’s greatest tenor; but people who know Caruso, and know his broad comedy vein, must realize that this play, lively as it is, does not properly exploit Mr. Lasky’s really immense inspiration. Whether this is the fault of Caruso, or of a management and directorate who were altogether too obsequious to Caruso, I don’t pretend to say. Here’s the notion which, a number of months ago. seized upon Jesse the Impresario; the greatest personality in the artistic world, to a lower or middle-class Italian, is Caruso. He fills the entire universe. Were a poor maker of plaster images, then, to claim relationship and get away with it, his whole neighborhood would bow and scrape before him. Which is exactly what happens, and la bella signorina, daughter and heiress of the table d’hote, sweeps forward on the tide of homage. An accident shows that lo divino tenore never even heard of the wretched sculptor — and down goes his house of cards — only to be built up higher than ever, even to love’s full fruition, when Caruso, taking pity on the lying lover, hails him as “my cousin.” I’ll say that all the authors in America, in convention assembled, couldn’t have gotten out a simpler, more human, more racially true plot for Caruso to work upon. Perhaps I am wrong in viewing this piece as somewhat of a disappointment; it will please, it will surprise, even. But. in the first place, Caruso’s own name is dropped from the tenor character, the meaningless name of “Carolyi” is substituted — and there goes the reason of the whole thing. As the half-wit Michelangelo of the plaster, our celebrity is simply delightful; as the artist of the Metropolitan Operahouse, he is altogether too grand. The subtitles simply fawn, and where they should trip with the feet of wit, they wear arctics and goloshes. Much good material was taken in the operahouse. Caruso as the moulder was well directed; Caruso as himself — or Carolyi — seems not to have been directed at all. Evidently, everybody salaamed and got out of the way, and the resultant action is of the pre-Selig period. Carolina White, celebrated American prima-donna, gave graceful and girlish life to the opposite role.’
Additional Details
My Cousin starred operatic tenor Enrico Caruso, essentially playing himself in all but name. His co-stars were Carolina White, Joseph Riccardi, A.G. Corbelle, Bruno Zirato and Henry Leone. The film was produced by Famous Players-Lasky Corporation and Artcraft Pictures Corporation, though only credited to Artcraft in the above review. Distributed by Paramount Pictures, its runtime is officially listed at 50 minutes.
The stand-out feature for the original reviewer as printed in Photoplay magazine seems to have been footage of the Metropolitan Opera House. This certainly must add some very valuable historical importance to this film, especially in the absence of any proof, for the viewer, of “Carolyi”‘s splendid vocalisations.
Following this film, Caruso would make one final film: 1919’s The Splendid Romance. He would pass away in 1921 at the age of 48.
First released on 24th November 1918, My Cousin has passed into the public domain in the United States. It can, therefore, be legally streamed via free platforms such as YouTube and this Caruso fan site.
Thanks to the Internet Archive, which hosts the original scans of Photoplay magazine.
