MGM’s 1930 film “The Rogue Song,” an adaptation of the Robert Bodansky-A. M. Willner operetta “Gypsy Love,” was the only sound-era production included on the American Film Institute’s 1980 list of the ten most wanted lost films. The inclusion of this title on the list was peculiar at many levels. For starters, its presence as the sole post-silent era entry, it inadvertently gave the wrong impression that few sound-era films were lost.
Furthermore, its inclusion presence appears to have been driven by citing Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy as the main stars, when in fact they were merely supporting comedy relief. And if the discovery of several fragments from “The Rogue Song” is any indication, it seems that the film was the least interesting of the ten missing titles.
A rather convoluted tale about the love/hate relationship between a Russian princess and a dashing bandit, “The Rogue Song” was intended as MGM’s first all-talking and all-color feature film. In what was considered a major casting coup of the day, Metropolitan Opera baritone Lawrence Tibbett was brought to Hollywood for the starring role as the swaggering bandit who kidnaps a beautiful princess (played by Catherine Dale Owen). MGM gave the film an extravagant budget that enabled the use of the expensive two-strip Technicolor process.
Strangely, MGM entrusted the direction of this major project to Lionel Barrymore, a distinguished actor who was eager to branch out into directing. Barrymore came to “The Rogue Song” after working behind the camera on “His Glorious Night,” an inept production that derailed the career of its leading man, John Gilbert – Barrymore’s disastrous effort to transition Gilbert into sound films resulted in a performance that created the false impression that Gilbert had a voice that was unsuitable for movie acting. Perhaps to ensure that Barrymore did not foul up “The Rogue Song,” ace producer Irving Thalberg was tasked to keep an eye on the production.
While the film was in progress, however, the studio abruptly felt that it was too stodgy and could benefit from some low comedy relief. MGM contacted the Hal Roach studio to borrow Laurel and Hardy for a few comic bits that could be inserted throughout the film. Unwilling to trust Barrymore as the director of his prized comics, Roach reportedly directed the duo’s scenes without demanding screen credit. Although the comics did not receive any special billing in the credits, the studio played up their presence in the marketing campaign, giving the incorrect impression that “The Rogue Song” was Laurel and Hardy romp.
Critical reception to “The Rogue Song” was mixed, though most of the praise went to Tibbett’s performance. “When his voice swells from the screen one forgets not only the trite lines and the farcical antics, but also that the singer himself is not on the stage,” wrote Mourdant Hall of The New York Times. “Never before have a singer’s efforts on the screen been applauded so genuinely.”
Tibbett earned an Academy Award nomination as Best Actor for “The Rogue Song.” MGM was able to arrange for European distribution of “The Rogue Song,” and the film played in Europe for another two years. The last confirmed public screening of this film was a French engagement in 1932.
With no perceived U.S. re-release value – Tibbett only made a few more films after “The Rogue Song” – MGM shelved the film and forgot about it. Unfortunately, the unstable nature of the Technicolor negatives and prints fueled a speedy deterioration, and the few materials that survived its theatrical release decomposed due to improper storage.
By the late 1950s and early 1960s, a new interest in Laurel and Hardy films began to attract both movie lovers and cinema scholars. An effort was made to call forth the team’s films, but it appeared that several silent shorts could not be immediately located. Also unavailable for a second look was “The Rogue Song.” William K. Everson, in his 1967 book “The Films of Laurel &a Hardy,” stated no footage of “The Rogue Song” was known to exist. That was not correct – Tibbett’s estate possessed a print (the great baritone passed away in 1960), but the print had decomposed before it was discovered in the early 1970s. MGM, which initially stated that it had no copies of the film, possessed the fourth reel of the cellulose nitrate picture negative as late as 1974. But, again, its discovery came only after the footage had deteriorated beyond saving.
Over the years, bits and pieces of “The Rogue Song” have emerged. The original complete soundtrack disc recordings were discovered in the MGM vaults in the early 1970s – the film was presented as a sound-on-disc release for the many cinemas that were still not properly wired for the projection of sound footage. In 1981, Professor Lawrence Banaquist of New Hampshire’s Keene State College in New Hampshire located a fragment featuring Laurel and Hardy seeking shelter from a storm that was also occupied by a bear. The footage ran less than three minutes and its preservation was an act of happy vandalism: a cinema projectionist back in 1930 loved the scene so much that he cut it from the print and kept it for his own amusement.
In 1993, an original two-color Technicolor print of the trailer was discovered. This included another Laurel and Hardy scene – involving some tomfoolery around the swallowing of a live bee – and while the trailer was mute, a preservation effort successfully married the silent footage to the previously discovered soundtrack disc. That same year, more fragments emerged from the Czech Republic. In 1998, a ballet sequence from “The Rogue Song” was located. This five-minute clip was believed to have been cut by a projectionist who found it boring.
For years, rumors persisted that a German-dubbed version of “The Rogue Song” survived in a Russian film archive, and there were reports that this edition was shown on Russian television in the 1960s. To date, this has never been confirmed.
Alas, viewing what exists, it appears that “The Rogue Song” was not a very good film. Tibbett, despite his Oscar nomination, comes across as a wooden screen presence in the few surviving scenes where he is featured, while leading lady Catherine Dale Owen appears to be a less than stellar presence. Laurel and Hardy are amusing, of course, but their shenanigans are rather mild and far below what they were capable of presenting. The existing glimpses of the film’s storm sequence, coupled with a wealth of publicity stills that still survive, confirms that the film’s big budget was extravagantly employed – “The Rogue Song” may not have stirred the soul of 1930 movie audiences, but at least it kept their attention with grand production values.
If an extant version of “The Rogue Song” turns up, it could surprise everyone by being far superior than the surviving fragments may suggest. In any event, its absence makes us wish that the film industry was more prescient when it came to preserving its golden age productions.