By John Exshaw
Saturday, 26 February, saw the triumphant return of director Rex Ingram – or at any rate, his most celebrated film – to the city of his birth, as The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse thundered once more across the big screen at the National Concert Hall in Dublin. Last seen at the same venue in 1993 (the centenary of Ingram’s birth), the film was showing as part of the recently-concluded Jameson Dublin International Film Festival, and, as on that previous occasion, the score was again performed by the RTÉ Concert Orchestra, this time under the direction of David Brophy.
Ingram’s masterpiece not only propelled Rudolph Valentino and Alice Terry to international stardom but made Ingram himself the leading director of his day, with complete power over all future projects and his own studio in the south of France. But while Valentino has retained his iconic status – albeit of a somewhat dubious and necrophiliac character – Ingram’s reputation (along with that of scriptwriter June Mathis, the driving force behind The Four Horsemen), has been allowed to slide into undeserved obscurity. Even this showing, in his native city, was billed as a 90th. anniversary of the film itself, rather than as a tribute to Ingram; had it been screened here last year, as it was in July at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater in L.A., it could at least have been promoted as commemorating the 60th. anniversary of Ingram’s death in 1950.
Be that as it may, The Four Horsemen proceeded to play to a gratifyingly full house at the NCH – and on an evening when people might otherwise have been expected – at least by self-regarding politicians – to show some passing interest in the results of the general election, held the day before. Then again, perhaps Ingram’s film, itself allegorical, struck a chord in a country recently devastated by its own version of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Greed, Cronyism, Clerical Criminality, and the IMF. With tickets ranging from a not-inconsiderable €25-€35, the screening also proved something of a recession-buster, attracting an audience comprised largely of the well-heeled, together with a sprinkling of the self-consciously “ortyâ€, all hoping not to be noticed in their look-at-me outfits and silly hats.