Saw Foolish Wives (1922), a black and white silent film about a dastardly con artist posing as a disgraced Russian aristocrat along with his two female "cousins" who are of dubious relation to him. The story kicks into gear to follow their latest caper: fleecing a naïve young wife of an American ambassador.
The film is a sort of wicked wish-fulfillment thing. We follow the con artist as he cons (artistically) around Monte Carlos. He gleefully gets away with most of what he attempts and only really gets any consequences at the end of the film. I'm reminded of that quote from John Berger: "You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting Vanity, thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for you own pleasure.” Similarly, I think we're meant to kind of guiltily enjoy this depiction of wickedness even as the film condemns it in the end. It's nominally about the naïve young wife learning a thing or two about the world and what's best for her, but we spend so much time watching the con artist smirk and grin at his own wickedness, it feels a little weird.
The ending is a lot of fun. It builds to a great crescendo of violence and chaos which is a treat to behold. Getting there is a hair tedious and I had to pause it many times to get food or drink or something to keep me from falling asleep. I have this weakness with silent films: they put me to sleep for some reason. Anyway, this is an interesting film. A bit overlong, but perhaps worth it for the ending.
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