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Singing gangster Richard Barthelmess (as Jerry Larrabee) is sent "up the river" after an innocent bystander is killed in one of his orchestrated shoot 'em ups. In prison, Mr. Barthelmess (#46039) has more time for singing and less time for racketeering. He becomes a hit in the big house and decides to go straight on the outside. But, after serving his time, Barthelmess receives a rocky reception. While a wonderful singer, he's derided as an ex-con. Through it all, Barthelmess is encouraged by beautiful blonde Betty Compson (as Alice Gray). She and warden William Holden would like Barthelmess to keep trying, but he is tempted by his criminal past...

"Weary River" is a part-talking, part-silent film. It begins as a silent, with oddly primitive background music (for 1929), and turns "talkie" early in the running time. You're thinking it will remain there, but the silent style occasionally returns. Perhaps the soundtrack on these scenes was inferior and re-takes unsatisfactory. While mostly a sound film, the spirit is silent; this may be why the technology appears superior to many other early talkies. The possibly better all-silent version should be restored, if possible...

Then a very big star, Barthelmess maintained his standing during the transition from silent to sound. His voice was fine, but Barthelmess is obviously better in the older style. Barthelmess also mouths his songs for a vocal double. Taken from this film, the song "Weary River" was a big hit for the popular new singer Rudy Vallee. Randolph Scott and Sally Eilers are extras and elevator "boy" Raymond Turner looks frightened. Director Frank Lloyd's artful prison sequences require no dialogue, and photographer Ernie Haller is an obvious asset. Their assistant Alvin Knechtel was killed in a plane crash, sadly, on the verge of a promising career.

***** Weary River (2/10/29) Frank Lloyd ~ Richard Barthelmess, Betty Compson, William Holden, Louis Natheaux

"Weary River" is what you might call a transitional style movie from Warner Brothers/Vitaphone. While it's not truly a full talking picture since much of it is silent and uses intertitles, some of it is sound--a bit of the dialog and the songs. This is exactly what they did previously with "The Jazz Singer" and by 1929, they'd finally be making all sound pictures. So, many of the films from the studio in 1928 would be like this...providing enough sound to please the masses...for now.

Jerry (Richard Barthelmess) is a gangster, though he dresses nice and doesn't look or sound like one. His life of crime eventually catches up to him and he's sent to prison. The warden of the place is an odd one--very progressive for the time and dedicated to fixing the cons who can be fixed. As for Jerry, he's initially dubious but soon finds a niche leading the prison's orchestra and writing music. He's so successful that he eventually becomes a radio sensation and one of his songs is a hit. Soon, he's released from prison. However, there's a strong pull from his old life--and when he finds out who set him up, he's mad enough to kill. What's next? And, how does the old warden enter the picture?

This film suffers a bit here and there because the movie is a tad overly melodramatic. And, the story wraps up too quickly and easily. Still, for the time, it's a very good picture and worth your time.

The years 1928 to 1930 were perhaps the crappiest couple of years in movie history. This is the period during which films transitioned from silent to sound and the learning curve was steep for most. "Weary River" is one of the better transitional films, as it actually feels like a movie and not a sound stage-bound play.

This film is actually part silent and part sound, though the ratio is about 80/20 talking to silent. Richard Barthelmess and Betty Compson prove themselves to be decent talking actors, though neither went on to have substantial careers in the new medium. The material they're given is still of the melodramatic silent movie kind, so they can only do so much with it. But the film bucks some of the trends that make other early talkies such bores. For one, the camera actually moves, whereas most early talkies find the actors standing in one spot with a stationary camera planted squarely in the middle of the frame. Also, this film has nearly constant underscoring like a silent film would have, which reduces the amount of dead air that plagues many early sound films and causes them to have such stilted pacing. The silent/sound hybrid is weird to watch -- there's no narrative reason for some parts to have titles while others are spoken -- but it's like the fact that this film couldn't quite commit to being a complete talkie made it a better sound film than it would otherwise have been.

The title of the film comes from a song that Barthelmess's ex-con character makes famous and that launches his reformed life as a radio singer, a song which I hope you like because Barthelmess warbles it in its entirety for what feels like a dozen times.

"Weary River" was one of three films that brought Frank Lloyd a Best Director Oscar nomination in the 1928-29 award year, the other two being "The Divine Lady" and "Drag." This was a weird year for Oscar. Technically, there weren't any nominations; at the awards ceremony, only winners were announced in each category. I'm not sure how people knew to show up for the ceremony if they weren't officially nominated, but that's something to figure out some other day I guess. But historical documents have since suggested what films were being considered in each category, and "Weary River" was included in Best Director. Frank Lloyd did win, but he won only for "The Divine Lady," as it seems that, though an artist could be nominated for multiple films, the voters were able to show preference for what film actually went with the award.

A bit of trivia -- Lloyd was only the second and last person to win a Best Director Oscar for a film not also nominated for Best Picture (Lewis Milestone was the first, for "Two Arabian Knights" from the previous year, though the first Oscar ceremony included two Best Director awards, one for dramatic films and one for comedies, so it's no an exact comparison).

Grade: B-

Mostly talkie that's part silent (a goat gland), this film boasts solid performances by the stars: Richard Barthelmess and Betty Compson. He's a small-time gangster who gets framed by a rival and goes to prison. She's the moll with a heart of gold who waits for him.

This early talkie also boasts a few songs, including the wonderful title song sung by Barthelmess (but really Johnny Murray). Not just a gangster picture, this one shows how Barthelmess reforms and goes out into the world only to be called CONVICT at every turn. He almost goes bad again but a visit to the old warden (William Holden) sets him straight. Of course the rival gets bumped off anyway.

This film garnered a lot of bad publicity in 1929 because even though Barthlemss (a major star of his time) signed statements that the singing voice is his, rumor had it he was dubbed. It's obvious he's not singing live but whether the voice is actually his, we may never know. Still, Barthelmess gives a solid performance as does the beautiful Betty Compson (check out those close-ups!)as the loyal friend.

WEARY RIVER may be the first early talkie where there was a controversy over possible dubbing. It almost doesn't matter now, but Barthelmess got caught in a lie, stating he did his own singing when the songs were dubbed by Johnny Murray. Watch this one for Richard Barthelmess and Betty Compson--both early Oscar nominees--in solid performance in a very early talkie.

This was made right at the crossover from silent to sound, Weary River is a mix of title cards and actual soundtrack of the actors' voices. Richard Barthelmess is Larrabee, who is sent to jail for a crime he didn't really do. the girlfriend Alice is Betty Compson.Barthelmess and Compson had both been around since the early days of silents and easily made the switch to talkies. while in prison, Larrabee puts together a music recital, and becomes a model prisoner. the song he sings is Weary River! and when he gets out, Larrabee is about to take revenge on the guys who put him in. can Alice stop him from falling into his old ways? it's simple. cute. and historically interesting, for the new talking picture technology alone. and Barthelmess WAS a pretty big star. maybe Turner Classic will show this one more often. directed by Frank Lloyd; nominated for best director! was oscar winning, but oddly, not for his best, biggest film, Mutiny on the Bounty.

I am a fan of early talkies.I have seen many but none quite like this.The first reel is silent,the second sound,the third starts off silent then 3 minutes in sound comes in.For the rest of the film,silent and sound constantly interchange.Was this supposed to be an experiment.Was it started as a silent picture.Were they short of sound apparatus some of the time?Why didn't they just make one sound and one silent version?We shall never know.I actuallybfound it quite entertaining even if I got fed up listening to Weary River.

Gangster Jerry Larrabee gets framed by rival Spadoni. In prison, he is befriended by the warden who turns the criminal into a singer. His new skill gets him a pardon, but he continues to be hounded by his past.

It's an early sound film. It's only part talkie. Other scenes are still silent. It's over a year since The Jazz Singer. This got a directing Oscar nomination. The story and everything else is almost secondary to the era's conversion to sound. When the first dialogue is heard after a long section of silent film, the sound is almost shocking coming out of nowhere. It is also interesting to read how the lead gets his singing dubbed in camera. It's all the technical fixes behind the scenes that makes this movie fascinating.

Having known that this was one of the three films cited by The Academy the year Frank Lloyd won (although for Divine Lady), I was glad to finally catch it on TCM. Part-talkie, a very unusual situation in itself, the movie is woefully dated (but what would you expect for any film more than seventy years old!).

That said, I thoroughly enjoyed the elegaic title tune (which as an earlier reviewer mentioned, is played frequently during the film). Don't know if that was really Richard Barthelmess singing, but a memorable song it is.

Although Frank Lloyd got an Academy Award recognition for Weary River he actually won that year for Divine Lady in the Best Director category. The Divine Lady was actually a silent film and Lloyd like everyone else in Hollywood was learning to master sound. Divine Lady was far better.

Weary River tells the story of Richard Barthelmess who is a gangster who gets picked up after a shootout with a rival gang headed by Louis Natheaux. An innocent bystander is wounded and Barthelmess gets a trip up a Weary River.

In prison with the encouragement of warden William Holden, Barthelmess explores his musical talent. He leads the prison orchestra and sings his own song Weary River which becomes a hit. Not too much different from Elvis Presley with Jail House Rock.

But it's that same old story about not making it on the outside and wanting to settle scores with Natheaux even with warden Holden and Barthelmess's former moll Betty Compson telling him to walk away and stick with the music business.

I'm not sure if that was Barthelmess's actual voice used, it wasn't bad but not all that good. He's billed as the Master Of Melody, like Russ Columbo in a few years would be the Romeo of Song. Come to think of it in a few years Columbo would have been better casting than Barthelmess.

Like so many silent stars Barthelmess was having trouble adjusting to sound and Weary River clearly shows it. It's a film that's not worn well over the years.

The plot of Weary River is a peculiar amalgam of gangster movie, love story and musical centering around a sensitive hood played by Richard Barthelmess who, after being sent to jail for a crime he didn't commit, discovers his true passion for music and becomes a radio star (based on a true story, believe it or not!). As an entertainment, I give this film 7 out of 10 stars. It's dated but well-paced and amusing without being particularly outstanding.

This review is about Weary River's soundtrack, which is an astonishing achievement for its time but overlooked by film music historians... possibly because the recordings were only rediscovered and restored to the film in 1997.

Film music historians often talk about Max Steiner's 1933 score for King Kong and Franz Waxman's 1934 score for The Bride of Frankenstein as if Steiner and Waxman magically invented synchronized music for film out of thin air... which is preposterous. Due to the success of The Jazz Singer, early talkies were mostly musicals. But it's one thing to have people burst into song in the middle of a scene as if they were on the stage, as in Ernst Lubitsch's superior 1929 film "The Love Parade"... it's something else entirely when the music has to synchronize with action and dialogue over the course of multiple shots and scenes, as in Weary River.

You see, in early talkies, all the sound had to be recorded live simultaneously. If you were going to have music under dialogue, or sound effects, or dialogue looping, it all had to be recorded at the same time. They didn't have multi-track recording in 1929.

Weary River has musical underscoring in virtually every shot of the picture. If you wanted underscoring in 1929, you had to have the orchestra and conductor on the set with the actors. But Weary River has music that flows from silent sequences into talking sequences. To allow that to happen, the composer had to write music for the entire film after they had shot the silent sequences and edited them together but BEFORE they had shot the sound sequences. The composer/conductor (Louis Silvers, who certainly deserved the big screen credit he got for his work) would then have to record all the music for the edited silent sequences. Where the silent and sound sequences were to join together, the conductor would have to record the music to a metronome beat; this would allow the yet-to-be-recorded sound sequence to join seamlessly with the silent sequence musically.

At some point in this process, the composer and director would have to collaborate in order to pre-plan the shot list for the sound sequences... because Weary River has a very sophisticated editing scheme for the visuals. There are a lot of different kinds of shot sequences leading into spoken dialogue. You don't just go from a silent sequence with musical score into a static shot with dialogue on a soundstage. There are many cuts, pieces of business, scene changes, sound effects or synchronized spoken words, all of which had to flow seamlessly into a spoken dialogue exchange in the film with unbroken music playing under it. That means a lot of planning, charts, diagrams. There is nothing spontaneous about the synchronized sound and music of Weary River. It's a choreographed dance of visuals and effects and music and dialogue, all recorded live on a soundstage with actors on a set waiting for their cue. Did they have the conductor in a soundproofed booth with glass windows containing a metronome so that the click didn't get onto the sound track? Did they run edited film behind the orchestra with punches flashing the tempo while the actors waited on the nearby set for their cue to speak? There was clearly one sequence I saw where an actress had to sit with the orchestra and deliver her line in time to her own actions on a film playback which then flowed into a sequence shot live on a set with other actors. This is not a typical early talkie. The fluidity of the shots, and the way the music synchronizes with them and works with the dialogue to create an integrated whole, all recorded in one pass... mind boggling. Things flow together so seamlessly that you don't even realize what you're looking at.

Compare Weary River with a 1929 film like The Vagabond Lover; its shots and music integration are simplistic, static, nothing more than 2 or 3 cameras pointing at a band playing and singing. 1929's The Broadway Melody is exactly the same, primitive camera positions and static shots and nothing very complicated.

Weary River, on the other hand, is a much more sophisticated production... to achieve that fluidity, that seamless integration of music and sound and imagery, required some really extreme measures on the part of the production team given their technical limitations. I'm surprised it's not more highly regarded. In terms of technical achievement, Weary River rates 10 stars.

Unfortunately, the music is not as memorable as King Kong or Bride of Frankenstein. But Weary River makes sound film look like silent film WITH a synchronized musical score and dialogue, which is an amazing feat. Director Frank Lloyd won the Oscar for best director that year, and he deserved it. In 1929, the team at Warner's was the best in the business when in came to sound films, and Weary River is a technical tour de force. You won't see anything more fluid with background music until 1932's groundbreaking Love Me Tonight.

Frank Lloyd was Oscar nominated for this film & two others, in 1929, about a gangster imprisoned, who becomes a singer...singing endlessly throughout the film the title song.

It's part silent-part talkie...which makes me think that this had been originally shot as a silent and then some portions of it where re-shot with dialogue, a usual thing to be done back in 1929.

A rare chance to watch William Holden, the elderly character actor (no relation to the star of Sunset Boulevard) of late silents and early talkies, who's very, very fine as the warden of the prison, in which gangster Richard Barthelmess is locked up. Barthelmess is good as Jerry Larrabee and Betty Compson (although her voice sounds a little bit high-pitched-maybe due to technical shortcomings)is fine too, as her girlfriend.

Thanks again to TCM, for the opportunity of watching another "rarity", not seen for a long time (completely restored, as best as possible).

"Weary River" was made in 1929, during that period following the success of "The Jazz Singer," when the Hollywood studios were trying to figure out how to use the new medium of sound, and also trying to figure out what the heck audiences wanted – silents or sound pictures.

With "Weary River," director Frank Lloyd tried to combine the two, presumably to see if they would work together in the same film. The movie has a soundtrack with music and sound effects, but throughout the film, it switches back and forth between "silent movie" mode (with dialogue given in title cards) and "sound movie" mode (where we can hear the characters speaking to each other).

It's an interesting experiment, but it doesn't really work. The story is too melodramatic.

In "Weary River," Jerry Larrabee (Richard Barthelmess) is a gangster with a platinum blonde girlfriend, Alice Gray (Betty Compson). After he is framed by a rival gangster, Spadoni (Louis Natheaux), Jerry is sent to prison, where he is "turned from the Dark Side" by a fatherly, idealistic warden (played by the original William Holden).

Jerry forms a prison band made of convicts (who are so good, they sound like a Hollywood studio orchestra), and writes a song, "Weary River," which becomes a big hit when it is broadcast on the radio. After his release, Jerry tries to go straight, but finds that vaudeville theater audiences are unwilling to accept him as an ex-convict pianist. He returns to Alice, and then must decide whether to keep on the straight and narrow path, or return to the rackets and have it out with Spadoni.

If this story had been a "total silent movie" from beginning to end, it might have worked better. Silent movies could "get away" with more melodramatic stories like this. The problem in "Weary River" is that the "silent" scenes work better than the "sound" scenes.

In the "sound" scenes, the dialogue is so awful, it sounds as if the characters took their words out of a bad 1920s stage melodrama. For example, in a "sound" scene in the warden's prison office, the warden gives Jerry a speech: "You must turn from your evil ways, my son." It sounds very stilted and artificial. The warden does everything but say to Jerry, "Think of your poor mother, and the grief you're putting her through." (A later scene in the warden's office, in "silent" mode," works better because we can't hear the characters, and we get the dialogue in subtitles.)

Later in the movie, Jerry says to Alice, "Why, honey! You're crying!" – probably the ultimate cliché of movie dialogue. Of course, Hollywood writers had trouble with the scripts during this transition period. It took them a while to learn how to write good dialogue, instead of writing title cards. (1952's "Singin' in the Rain" illustrated this problem brilliantly.)

In "Weary River," Richard Barthelmess and Betty Compson do okay as the leads, but still seem to be doing "silent movie acting." Whenever Jerry meets with his gangster friends, or gets a lecture from the warden, Barthelmess hunches his shoulders down and glowers at the other characters, as if to say, "Okay, I'm a gangster now." This kind of acting was necessary in the silent movies, where emotions were conveyed through facial expressions, not dialogue.

The problem with Jerry's character is that he's not really a "bad guy" or an evil man He's a gangster, but in his heart he'd really like to be a musician. He loves his girl too much to slap her with a grapefruit, or to seek out other women. He doesn't even fire a gun in the movie (although he comes close at the end). In the next few years after this film was made, Edward G. Robinson, James Cagney, and Paul Muni would do a better job of defining gangsters as irredeemable, violent criminals who took what they wanted when they wanted it.

The movie is well-directed, and it gives a good view of the Roaring Twenties, with "Jazz Age" nightclub scenes, speakeasy shootouts, and some good scenes in the prison. But watching "Weary River" today, it seems more like a movie that paved the way for other, better films.

Weary River (1929), restored by UCLA and TCM, is a great chance to see two silent screen stars Richard Barthelmess and Betty Compson step into the talkie era together, warming your heart as they do so. Their characters are so obviously head over heels crazy about one another that you can't help but be endeared to them and their story.

Sure, we've seen prison films like this before, but there is still such a sweetness to this one because of the caliber of stars involved. Other silent stars like the first William Holden, who was a character actor of the era, and Gladden James, who got his start in silents in the 1910's, show up too and we get to hear their voices for the first time. Part silent - part talkie makes for an odd mix in most of these early sound films, but the very nice Vitaphone soundtrack helps to smooth over any rough spots.

I really loved the picture but then I'm very sentimental about these particular stars so please bear with me while I give this wonderful relic a 10 out of 10.

And my guess is that Richard Barthelmess is NOT singing here. The lip synching is off, and besides it doesn't sound like his voice at all. I wonder who the real singer was?

I've since researched the film on the TCM website and found the singer dubbing for Mr. Barthelmess was Johnny Murray.

Turner Classic Movies presented "Weary River" in March of 2003 as part of its month of Oscar. I found it intriguing, even enjoyable. Partly because it was half-silent and half-sound, I was intrigued, since I have a deep and abiding interest in the earliest films. I enjoyed it for that reason, and because the story itself was, at the very least, pleasant, if not totally believable and realistic. Betty Compson, who played Alice, had a remarkably cute way of speaking, and whenever she called to her lover Jerry, played by Richard Barthelmess, she pronounced it "Jer-wy," which I found endearing. Great cinema? Perhaps not, but one I would like to see again, if only to prove to myself whether Barthelmess did his own singing. And to watch and hear the adorable Betty Compson.

WEARY RIVER (First National Pictures, 1929), a Richard A. Rowland Presentation directed by Frank Lloyd, stars Richard Barthelmess, a popular leading of the silent screen, in this part-silent/part talking 90 minute production produced during the dawn of sound (1927-1929). Regardless of its name, WEARY RIVER is actually a title tune that bears no reference to a river that's weary. While Barthelmess shows great promise that would soon lead to his future in talkies, his singing would not become his forte, considering the fact that his vocalization was reportedly dubbed by another. Basically a crime-melodrama with mix of prison theme and music, WEARY RIVER is quite an entertaining product made entertaining most through its silent orchestral underscoring credited by musical director, Louis Silvers.

Based on the story by Courtney Ryler-Cooper, the plot introduces Jerry Larrabee (Richard Barthelmess), a well-known bootlegger, escorting his steady girlfriend, Alice Gray (Betty Compson) to the Literary Club (for Members only). He soon leaves Alice following a phone call to attend to business regarding Spadoni (Louis Natheaux), a rival gangster gunning for his territory. With an innocent bystander killed during a rumble, Jerry is placed under arrest by his friend (Robert Emmett O'Connor), a police sergeant, accompanied by a detective (James Farley). Jerry stands trial where he is sentenced to serve one to ten years at Laboring Prison. Going under the number of 46039, Jerry becomes a rebellious prisoner until the kindly Warden (William Holden) gives him every chance to change his ways. For Jerry to become a better person, the Warden advises the visiting Alice not to see him again, with the belief that it would be better for Jerry to break all connections with his past. During the course of time, Jerry becomes a songwriter who forms a prison band, broadcasting his latest composition "Weary River," broadcast over the WDCB Radio station, to much success, becoming well known under his new title, "Master of Melody." Upon his prison release for good behavior, Jerry becomes a vaudeville singer vocalizing his signature, "Weary River." Because of his prison record, Jerry finds it difficult adjusting to his new life on the outside, especially with temptation of returning to his life of crime for avenging on the man who framed him. Others featured in the cast are George E. Stone ("Blackie"), Raymond Turner (The Elevator Boy); Gladden James (The Manager); Lee Moran (The Hoofer); and Ernie Adams.

Aside from the tune "Weary River" being vocalized four times and underscored numerously (including during closing exit music) enough for viewers to become song weary before the movie ends, the performance given by Barthelmess and Compson are well acted, even if considered old-style by contemporary viewers. Barthelmess also sings briefly "Frankie and Johnny" along with another tune titled "It's Up to You." Based on the plot summary of a convict becoming a radio singer through broadcast hook-up from the prison, one cannot help but think about a similar themed story of SAY IT WITH SONGS (1929) starring Al Jolson. Had Jolson starred in WEARY RIVER instead, with he singing more songs that the oft-repeated title tune, it would have benefitted his performing style here more than the poorly written and his badly acted performance that has often labeled SAY IT WITH SONGS, regardless of some potential, to be Jolson's worst movie. Interestingly, Frank Lloyd was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Director for this and two other productions, DRAG (with Barthelmess) and THE DIVINE LADY (winner). William Holden (not the famous actor in later years) is commendable as the sympathetic warden while shadowy images of guards leading convict to his execution is well done.

Reportedly WEARY RIVER went through a long and tedious process of restoration in recent years, a challenge that paid off. Unavailable for viewing in decades, and with part-talkies seldom given any sort of revivals since its original release, WEARY RIVER resurfaced intact on Turner Classic Movies (TCM premiere: August 24, 1997), and has become available on DVD for anyone interested in movies during its transformation from silent to sound. (***).

This film has been recently restored to its original part-talking version through the efforts of the Library of Congress, the UCLA film archive, and Warner Bros./Turner Classic Movies. Not much gain, however, unless seeing and hearing the morose Richard Barthelmess sing the title song not once but four times is what you've been waiting for. As melodrama it is crude, lacking the punch that other early gangster melodramas like LITTLE CAESAR and PUBLIC ENEMY have. Direction is competent, not remarkable enough to earn an Oscar nomination, as it did for Frank Lloyd. But this was from Oscar's early years, when artists were nominated for all their work in the eligibility year, which allowed mediocre credits ride on the coattails of their betters.