Max Linder: Cinema's First World-Wide Movie Star
"Max Linder is one of the screen's earliest artistes. He first appeared in pictures long before the resources which the present-day producer can command were obtainable. And although a great many "funny men" have come along at various times, none has created such an impression as Max has. He ranks second only to Charlie Chaplin."-- The Picture Show, 1919.
Max is another forgotten pioneer whose talents and contributions have been undermined way too much. He was Chaplin before there was Chaplin. I find it very unjust to see he never gets the full credit he deserves, so hopefully this post will do him some justice.
Born Gabriel-Maximilien Leuvielle in Saint-Loubès, Gironde, France on December 16, 1883, Max's parents were winegrowers and wanted Max and his older brother Maurice to continue their family business, but neither of them ended up doing so. Maurice became a national rugby player, and Max...well, you're about to find out. Max liked to play hooky and rugby as a boy, but above all, he had a great fascination for the arts. After his parents sent him to boarding school, he took painting classes without their knowledge.
"Without telling my parents, I took up painting, and with what I thought to be my great masterpiece, I went to see a well-known painter. 'Yes, indeed' he said, gazing critically at my piece of work. 'It certainly looks promising, but you will never become a second Raphael!' That, presumably, was that. The vocation of the theatre bolstered."
After taking secret acting lessons with the help of a family friend, he enrolled in the Conservatoire de Bordeaux in 1899. Within a short amount of time, he developed a skill and soon received praise for his performances. From 1901 to 1904, he was a contract player with the Bordeaux Theatre des Arts and performed in plays by Molière, Pierre Corneille, and Alfred de Musset. By the time it was 1905, he began appearing in films for directors Louis Gasnier, Charles Pathé, and the one and only George Méliès.
"In your eyes lies a fortune. Come and act in front of my cameras, and I will help make it." -- Charles Pathé’s request to Max to make films with him
Max became a popular favorite among audiences in the late 1900s and early 1910s. Due to the universality of silent films back in the day, he became well-known all over the world, not just in the United States. He was one of the first celebrities to tour internationally, which is partially the reason why he became the first international movie star. He was at his peak around 1909-1914 I would say. He was so big at one point, that he had a theatre named after him in Paris.
His reign was a big one, but it was rather short-lived. In 1911, he stepped down from making films to recover from appendicitis, which left him bedridden. Some newspapers were fanatic enough to claim he even died, but within a few months he had recovered and returned to making pictures. When WWI broke out, Max tried to enlist but was not accepted because he was considered "unfit for battle." Therefore, he did his part of serving by entertaining troops.
Ever since the war, he suffered several bouts of chronic depression and severe mental breakdowns. According to some of the people who worked with him, he made some pretty bad "tantrum-like appearances" at the studio. To my knowledge, most of the reasons remain undisclosed. The only reason I can think of is the war must've shocked him. Considering the fact that he was ridiculously rich, is also proof that money can't buy you happiness, but I guess it lets you choose your form of misery. In 1911, his salary was 150,000 francs a year. Just one year later it went up to 1 million, as were his demands from the studio (which they gave into). Due to his insane pay raises, he was called "The Napoleon of The Cinema" behind his back.
Max only married once. As far as affairs and things like that, I haven't even bothered to research because his only marriage is a story of its own... On August 2, 1923, Max married the girl he was the most crazy about in the whole world. Her name was Hélèn "Jean" Peters, but she was 22 years his junior. As you might have guessed, it did cause quite a media scandal, but the couple couldn't care less and it eventually fizzled. In 1924, a year after they married, their daughter Maud was born on July 27. The couple had no other children.
The marriage was not all sunshine and rainbows though. You gotta admit, it was odd. And there are so many things I cannot understand. Firstly, there were too many rumors that Max was a very paranoid and possessive husband and that he also took opioids to deal with all his pain, but it was only a recipe for disaster. All in all, it only made Max's mental health spiral downward even more, but he wasn't the only dysfunctional one. His wife clearly had a bit of insanity in her too. It has been revealed (for some obscure reason) that both of them kept a suicide compact, and the night before they made their deal, they also cut their wrists. I know, it's a very abnormal tad bit of information, but this proves how destructive the war was and how poorly ministered mental issues were handled back then.
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| Handsome man! |
Maud was still in diapers at the time of her parent's death and was sent to live with her grandparents on her mom's side as a result. Unfortunately, I wish I could find some goodbye note from her father or mother before they died -- if there ever was one -- but my tireless effort has been unsuccessful. Maud grew up never knowing who her real parents were, but word eventually broke out once she had grown up. She first discovered how influential and famous her father was when she was 20 years old. After seeing one of his films, she decided to work on reviving his memory for the public. She compiled two documentary films on Max, one in 1963 and the other in 1983. She also published a book on him in 1992. Maud lived to be 93 years old until she died in 2017.
Max was a good friend of Chaplin's, and Chaplin confessed that he was one of his inspirations. Max also gave Maurice Chevalier his start in the movies during the silent days, but since he wasn't very successful with that form of entertainment, he did not pursue the new medium at the time. Instead, he retried with the advent of sound.
Here's another fun fact: His film Seven Years of Bad Luck (1921) contains one of the earliest examples of the human mirror gag, which was famously used by Groucho and Harpo 12 years later in Duck Soup (1933). Although I haven't seen many of his films, from what I have seen, it is evident that he was very talented and helped shape comedy. His legacy still lives on.
*News flash* Today is the last day of 2023. I selected none other than Max Linder to be the final artist of the year I write about because for one, I've been meaning to for a while, and two, he is one of the most relevant performers I dare to exclude from my blog! One of my New Year's resolutions is to publish more entries than I did this year, but we'll see how that goes; hopefully smoothly. It's been a great year and I'm excited to see what 2024 will bring forth. Until then, I will see you next year!
~ Alexei