It had started out as a theoretical exercise, part of my ongoing project focussing on the largely forgotten, or at least overlooked career, of one of the silent era’s most popular stars, Marie Prevost (1896-1937). I became an ardent Prevost fan after viewing her superlative sidekick role as Barbara Stanwyck’s roommate in Frank Capra’s Ladies of Leisure (1930).

Kennington Bioscope has been exhibiting rare celluloid survivors from the first quarter of film history at Lambeth’s Cinema Museum since 2013. As one of its programmers/presenters a fire lit within me to find more of Marie’s work, showcase her career and perhaps help rehabilitate her reputation (she received the Hollywood Babylon treatment and Nick Lowe recorded an unflattering song about her for his debut album).

This cute and diminutive Canadian native, born Mary Bickford Dunn, became one of Mack Sennett’s leading Bathing Beauties of the late ‘teens, appearing in many short comedies. A combination of innate talent and comedy schooling stood her in good stead for a career as a leading lady, and on leaving Sennett’s studio in 1921 for a contract with Universal, she played in light romantic comedy features, subsequently signing with Warner Bros. Jack Warner said she “has advanced at an astonishing rapid rate to the point where she must be considered one of the select of motion picture stardom.”

By 1924 German émigré Ernst Lubitsch eyed her ample ability and charms as he embarked fully with Warner Bros on his American directorial career. He made a remarkable three-picture run with Miss Prevost, declaring her one of America’s best actresses after she starred in his hit features The Marriage Circle, Three Women and the sadly lost, Kiss Me Again (this title, also featuring Clara Bow, takes the #1 spot as my most wanted ‘lost’ film).

In 2018 I discovered that the BFI archive included a complete Prevost feature, On to Reno (1928), a comedy, directed by James Cruze, better known for his epic Western The Covered Wagon (1923). I screened that film at the Kennington Bioscope in 2019 to a great audience reception and again in January 2020 at Bristol’s Slapstick Festival.

By 2022 I was searching further afield for Marie material. The Filmarchiv Austria had a nitrate print of one of her features but that wasn’t viable – they had no plans to digitise it, and besides, the intertitles were in Serbo-Croatian.

So I looked across the Pond to the UCLA Film and Television Archive which had a 16mm Prevost print in their collection. This was also a no-go. The celluloid in the cans had deteriorated, or ‘vinegared’, and the print was very low on the list for potential preservation.

Disappointed once again, I was delighted to discover that UCLA archivist Steven K. Hill was also a fan of Miss Prevost and quite invested in my quest. Steven told me that UCLA had a restored 35mm safety print of Columbia Studios’ The Sideshow (1928), and I was intrigued.

The Sideshow revolves around acts of sabotage and backstabbing at a travelling circus with Marie playing a magician’s assistant. My research showed that the film was screened to exhibitors at a London ‘trade show’ in May 1929 at the New Gallery Kinema (now occupied by Burberry’s flagship store). The Kinematograph’s London Trade Show Diary shows a picture of Marie in a scene, perched on a wooden case, captioned as “posing bewitchingly”.

The magazine’s favourable review compliments its “very good” production and photography, with a “well told” story, full of praise for its lack of sensationalism and sympathetic depictions of circus characters, with standout acting by ‘Little Billy’ Rhodes who would later play the Munchkin Barrister in The Wizard of Oz.

Yet despite this positive reception the Kinematograph lists its release date as “not fixed” and I cannot find any evidence for public screenings ever taking place. And perhaps they didn’t, or weren’t worth mentioning, because on the same page as its trade show review, a piece about MGM’s The Broadway Melody (1929) reminds us that the writing was on the wall for silents:

The public had voted with their dancing feet, and beneath those feet, The Sideshow fell down the cracks in the pavement. Besides, by September 1929, Marie had her first full talking picture out on release, Divorce Made Easy, with The Flying Fool coming out in-between issued in both sound and silent versions.

UCLA’s pristine print of the The Sideshow had never been edited for TV, scanned nor digitised so remained unreleased in any home viewing format. The only way to see this film was projected live from celluloid… and the Kennington Bioscope was the place it could and should be screened. Getting permission to ship such a rare print from the United States and screen it in London is not a simple process.

The BFI sent UCLA a glowing recommendation that vouched for our suitability to screen and handle archive prints. With the kind assistance of Cinema Museum projectionist Phil Clark and the museum’s directors Ronald Grant and Martin Humphries forms were completed covering projection specs alongside photos of the booth interior.

Finally I made an international money wire transfer payment for the print loan and booked its passage (the screening was my personal Christmas treat to our attendees) and the print arrived in good time for its 11 December 2024 festive screening.

For two years I’d kept wondering if it would really happen but I kept my faith and thanks to Steven, my UCLA correspondent and fellow Marie Prevost fan, we got there in the end.

Like everyone else in our audience, including pianist Cyrus Gabrysch whose improvised score accompanied the film, I viewed The Sideshow for the very first time that evening. The picture was a great surprise and success with the audience and I think we all felt special knowing that we were watching something together that hadn’t been seen in London since before we’d all been born.

Could I ever be crazy enough to do the like again? For the sake of rare films, of course I would!