George Washington Cohen: A Peculiar Trip Back in Time

"George Washington Cohen" isn't exactly a lost masterpiece begging for rediscovery, but if you're the kind of person who finds genuine pleasure in digging through the archives of early cinema, particularly for a glimpse at how performers like George Jessel or Jane La Verne were handled on screen, then yes, it's worth a watch. Everyone else? Probably not. This one's for the dedicated cinephiles, the ones who don't mind a bit of narrative thinness or some truly baffling directorial choices in exchange for a window into another era. If you’re looking for something polished, forget it.

The print I saw wasn’t exactly pristine, which honestly adds to the experience, giving it that dusty, unearthed quality. You can almost feel the film struggling to project its story through the years, a bit like trying to hear a conversation through a thick wall. George Jessel, he’s got this energy, right? It’s very much a stage energy, which doesn't always translate perfectly to the camera. There are moments where he seems to be playing to the back row of a theater, even in a close-up. It's not bad acting, just… different. A relic of how performance was understood then.

Jane La Verne, on the other hand, brings a surprising softness to her scenes. She’s often reacting, and some of her expressions feel genuinely unforced. There’s a particular shot where she’s just listening to Jessel, and her eyes have this quiet resignation. It lasts maybe a beat too long, but it works. You get a sense of her character without any dialogue, just a slight tilt of the head. That was a nice surprise.

The pacing, though. Oh, the pacing. It’s a slow burn, even for its time. There’s a scene, I think it’s meant to be a dramatic confrontation, where Jessel’s character is trying to explain something to Lawford Davidson. It just goes on. And on. The camera sits there, static, while they deliver lines that feel like they’re being read from cue cards just out of frame. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you this moment matters more than it actually does. It feels like the director just let the actors run the scene until they ran out of things to say, rather than cutting for impact.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of George Washington Cohen (1928) through its definitive frames.

One odd visual detail that stuck with me: in what I assume is a more affluent setting, the curtains in the background of one of Jessel's office scenes looked like they were just tacked up. No real rod, just bunched fabric. It’s a tiny thing, but it pulls you out of the illusion, makes you think about the film crew rather than the story. And the costumes, especially on Florence Allen, sometimes felt a little too 'costume-y,' like they were picked off a rack rather than tailored for the character. The hats are something else entirely, though. They deserve their own review.

There's a strange tonal shift around the middle, where things suddenly get a bit lighter, almost farcical, before swinging back to whatever the central drama was. It’s jarring. You spend twenty minutes watching characters fret, and then suddenly there's a chase scene that feels ripped from a different picture. It’s not smooth. The chemistry between Jessel and La Verne, when it's allowed to breathe, is actually pretty good. They have a few moments of genuine connection, even if the script sometimes makes them talk past each other.

The crowd scenes, whenever they appear, have this oddly empty feeling. Like half the extras wandered off for a coffee break and never came back. Or maybe it was just a small budget. Either way, it never quite sells the idea of a bustling street or a lively gathering. It’s more like a polite suggestion of a crowd. Then there’s this one shot of Paul Panzer, a quick reaction, and the camera just holds on him for a beat too long after his line. It becomes funny in its awkwardness, like he’s waiting for a stage direction that never comes.

Ultimately, "George Washington Cohen" is a curio. It’s not going to change your life, and it’s certainly not a film you’d recommend universally. But for those of us who enjoy seeing the rough edges of cinema's past, the way actors embodied roles before the advent of method acting, or just appreciating the sheer effort that went into making movies back then, there's something here. It’s a time capsule, slightly dented and a little dusty, but still fascinating if you know what you’re looking for. It reminds you that filmmaking was still figuring itself out, one awkward cut and lingering shot at a time.