I can't say there aren't some issues here. We get overreaching early use of pathetic fallacy as a metaphorical device, and at the start it's difficult to discern between male and female actors who, barring costume design, all mostly look quite alike as per the styles of the 1910s: the wife, her sister, and the vampire; the husband, the friend, and the doctor. We also see what feels like a passing racist caricature, and the whole picture is defined by an obvious misogynist trope that's emphatically cemented with a specific scene late in the runtime. In addition: whether owing to censorial scissors, hard editing cuts (also seen throughout), or unwillingness or inability to film some moments in the first place, there are definite shortcuts in the course of events as it presents (e.g. A character only just starts to fall, and in the next instant, they are flat on their back). These are indelicacies that are unfortunate, and must be acknowledged - but which are unmistakably common to fare of the timeframe generally, and even still, prevalent throughout movies at large, not least of all of the medium's earliest years. While one must keep such matters in mind, the film is sufficiently well made as to overshadow possible detractions. 'A fool there was' has its problems, but is more so than not a very worthy slice of early cinema.
Despite the film's faults, and the casting director's questionable eyesight, the scene writing is unexpectedly absorbing and dynamic as it builds the story, with some moments being especially and gratifyingly strong. Whether the screenwriters are to be commended, or playwright Porter Emerson Browne, there is some cleverness to the dialogue that is imparted through intertitles. Though the gradual recital of Rudyard Kipling's poem 'The vampire' is a bit pretentious at some points, at others it is neatly befitting the sequence of events. While the characters are broadly unremarkable as written, everyone in the cast turns in an admirable performance in bringing their characters to life, with suitable nuance and physicality. Edward José is particularly notable as "the husband," John Schuyler; the diplomat's countenance and comportment visibly shifts as the plot progresses, and José very capably meets the demands of the part. Perhaps more than anything else, however, 'A fool there was' is highly noteworthy as being one of the few surviving films of star Theda Bara - spirited and conniving as the unnamed "vampire" - and on that basis alone is worth checking out.
And this brings us at last to the overall narrative. At first blush the course of events feels like a contrivance of cinematic storytelling - the ease with which the husband's behavior is discovered and made public; the widespread infamy of the vampire. One must consider, however, how often the personal affairs of modern politicians and celebrities become headline news, and with that the sordid tale begins to seem like something we hear about every day. But that's not to say 'A fool there was' comes across as common; as suggested, what is most truly (sadly) ordinary about the feature is the certain sexism of the core premise. Rather, this is somewhat astounding for how very unremittingly dour the saga becomes, a stark contrast to dominant moralizing in early cinema that demanded "virtue" triumph, "sin" be punished, and all end well according to these precepts. To some extent this title feels like it's ahead of its time in regards to how it all plays out and resolves, reflecting trends in ensuing decades of dramas more true to the darker side of life, and declining the easy happy conclusion. For that refusal - though more depressing, the picture also becomes more engrossing, and more satisfying as a viewer.
Further commendations are due, too, to those who contributed to wardrobe, hair, and makeup here. Once more - while this isn't a feature without flaws, there is so much here that is done very well indeed. To be honest, the first approximate quarter of the length doesn't do much to impress, and I began questioning what I was committing to, but the strength of the film builds as the digital timer advances. The value of the title reveals itself well before the finale, with José and Bara, and the scene writing, providing the greatest substance. I certainly won't say this is perfect, and it's not going to be for everyone, but mixed expectations that remained even as the feature began were ultimately defied and surpassed. Not least of as a surviving representation of its stars' careers, 'A fool there was' is an engrossing early full-length film that holds up fairly well, and is recommendable as a fine drama of the silent era.
Despite the film's faults, and the casting director's questionable eyesight, the scene writing is unexpectedly absorbing and dynamic as it builds the story, with some moments being especially and gratifyingly strong. Whether the screenwriters are to be commended, or playwright Porter Emerson Browne, there is some cleverness to the dialogue that is imparted through intertitles. Though the gradual recital of Rudyard Kipling's poem 'The vampire' is a bit pretentious at some points, at others it is neatly befitting the sequence of events. While the characters are broadly unremarkable as written, everyone in the cast turns in an admirable performance in bringing their characters to life, with suitable nuance and physicality. Edward José is particularly notable as "the husband," John Schuyler; the diplomat's countenance and comportment visibly shifts as the plot progresses, and José very capably meets the demands of the part. Perhaps more than anything else, however, 'A fool there was' is highly noteworthy as being one of the few surviving films of star Theda Bara - spirited and conniving as the unnamed "vampire" - and on that basis alone is worth checking out.
And this brings us at last to the overall narrative. At first blush the course of events feels like a contrivance of cinematic storytelling - the ease with which the husband's behavior is discovered and made public; the widespread infamy of the vampire. One must consider, however, how often the personal affairs of modern politicians and celebrities become headline news, and with that the sordid tale begins to seem like something we hear about every day. But that's not to say 'A fool there was' comes across as common; as suggested, what is most truly (sadly) ordinary about the feature is the certain sexism of the core premise. Rather, this is somewhat astounding for how very unremittingly dour the saga becomes, a stark contrast to dominant moralizing in early cinema that demanded "virtue" triumph, "sin" be punished, and all end well according to these precepts. To some extent this title feels like it's ahead of its time in regards to how it all plays out and resolves, reflecting trends in ensuing decades of dramas more true to the darker side of life, and declining the easy happy conclusion. For that refusal - though more depressing, the picture also becomes more engrossing, and more satisfying as a viewer.
Further commendations are due, too, to those who contributed to wardrobe, hair, and makeup here. Once more - while this isn't a feature without flaws, there is so much here that is done very well indeed. To be honest, the first approximate quarter of the length doesn't do much to impress, and I began questioning what I was committing to, but the strength of the film builds as the digital timer advances. The value of the title reveals itself well before the finale, with José and Bara, and the scene writing, providing the greatest substance. I certainly won't say this is perfect, and it's not going to be for everyone, but mixed expectations that remained even as the feature began were ultimately defied and surpassed. Not least of as a surviving representation of its stars' careers, 'A fool there was' is an engrossing early full-length film that holds up fairly well, and is recommendable as a fine drama of the silent era.