Silent Superstars: Rudolph Valentino, The Ultimate Screen Idol
How fortunate it was that a young Italian movie actor christened Rodolfo Alfonso Raffaello Pierre Filibert Guglielmi di Valentina d’Antonguella settled on the elegant “Rudolph Valentino” for his screen name. Not many people today are familiar with images of Valentino’s face, but everyone’s heard of the romantic name, and some will perhaps recognize vague descriptions of him as the “Great Lover” from the long-ago days of the silent screen. One of the near-mythical film icons who tragically passed away far too young, he made an extraordinary impact in his day and those who take the time to view his best films will doubtless understand why.
He was born to a middle class family in Castellaneta, Italy, in 1895, the same year films were first being exhibited. He and his siblings Alberto and Maria were very close to their mother, especially after their father tragically passed away from malaria. The teenaged Rodolfo preferred the outdoors and working with his hands to sitting in school, and while he tried studying professional landscaping he couldn’t shake off his longing for a greater adventure. At age 18 he boarded a ship to New York City to seek his fortune.
The young Italian would work a series of odd jobs, and thanks to his natural grace and coordination became a dance instructor and taxi dancer (a “for hire” dancing partner, a mildly frowned-upon occupation at the time). This line of work led to his first brush with public drama when he became a witness in the sensational divorce trial of heiress Blanca de Saulles. Seeking a fresh start–on the opposite side of the country–he dabbled in the California theater scene and decided to try breaking into motion pictures. He shyly but insistently hung around Hollywood movie studios until he started getting work as an extra. His first modest break was as an extra in the feature Alimony (1918), where he was paid five dollars a day.
It only took a few small roles for directors to typecast the young Italian as a “Latin” villain in films like The Married Virgin (1918), Eyes of Youth (1919), and Once to Every Woman (1920). He attempted to work with the renowned D.W. Griffith, but the director infamously dismissed him as “too foreign looking” and felt certain that “The girls would never like him.” Nevertheless, Rodolfo persisted–and he also managed to settle on a screen name. Few actors had their names so prone to different spellings: “De Valentina,” “Volantino,” “di Valentina,” and “Valentine” would be paired variously with “Rodolfo,” “Rodolph” or “Rudolpho.” Finally he chose the catchy “Rudolph Valentino,” although he liked the nickname “Rudy.”
In early 1918 Valentino’s beloved mother died, devastating him. He would also enter a doomed marriage with actress Jean Acker, part of the inner circle of the theatrical queen bee Alla Nazimova. But luck finally came his way: in 1921 the great screenwriter June Mathis recommended him for the role of the fiery libertine Julio Desnoyers in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921). His impressively charismatic performance was a sensation, particularly his sensuous tango scenes. Mathis had correctly sensed that female audiences were tired of the pale, well-starched heroes on the screens and wanted something new. Valentino’s Four Horseman costar Alice Terry would recall, “I always had the impression that I was playing with a volcano that might erupt at any minute. It never did, but that was the secret of his appeal.”
After this breakout role Valentino appeared in the Art Deco drama Camille (1921) starring Alla Nazimova. He was drawn to its set designer, the statuesque Natacha Rambova, and it wasn’t long before they were in a relationship despite his shakey marriage to Jean Acker. He then signed with Famous Players-Lasky, which promptly starred him in the romance The Sheik (1921). The film’s tale of an impetuous young Englishwoman captured by a sensual desert sheik was a huge sensation, although Valentino’s performance is somewhat giggle-worthy today thanks to director George Melford’s liking for histrionics.
The Sheik would leave a major mark on 1920s pop culture, coinciding with the era’s interest in “exotic” Eastern cultures. Young men who styled their hair like Valentino, slicked back and very glossy, were dubbed “sheiks,” and young flappers were called “shebas.” “The Sheik of Araby” was a hugely popular song, and desert romances were all the rage on screen–even the reputable Milton Sills tried his hand at being a dangerous screen sheik.
Valentino’s subsequent films had him star in Gloria Swanson in Beyond the Rocks (1922) and play the red-blooded toreador Gallardo in his personal favorite film, Blood and Sand (1922).
Thanks to his success and likely also to Rambova’s influence, Valentino began asking for larger salaries and more artistic control over his films. Butting heads with the studios led to going “on strike” from films for a time and going on a tour with Natacha, who was now his second wife. Dubbed the Mineralava Dance Tour (sponsored by a beauty company), it featured the famous couple giving demonstrations of the famous tango. They attracted massive crowds wherever they went.
Back in Hollywood he would star in films like the historical drama Monsieur Beaucaire (1924) and popular action drama The Eagle (1925), but by this point the strain of his fame was beginning to show. His marriage to Natasha would crumble in 1926, another shattering personal event. He told one reporter frankly: “A man should control his life. My life is controlling me.”
In 1926 he decided to star in The Son of the Sheik, the sequel to The Sheik. Beautifully shot and full of drama, romance and action, it was promising to be a sensational hit. Valentino’s performance was nothing short of magnificent, full of all the charisma, menace and sensual allure his fans could desire. It also presented a unique challenge since he played a dual role of both the elderly sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan and his virile son, Ahmed.
As the film was rolled out to the first run theaters, Valentino embarked on a promotional tour that was packed with social events. In mid-August 1926, he was at a party in New York City when he became seriously ill. At the hospital doctors discovered a perforated stomach ulcer the size of a dime. He had been suffering stomach pains for a long time, attempting to treat himself with bicarbonate of soda. Despite an operation he developed severe peritonitis, and on August 23, 1926, Rudolph Valentino passed away at 12:10 p.m. His last words may have been: “Don’t pull the blinds! I feel fine. I want the sunlight to greet me.”
The hysteria that attended his death is remembered even today. The public was allowed to view his body lying in state at Frank E. Campbell’s Funeral Church and a reported 100,000 people showed up, leading to a riot. His funeral train heading to Hollywood was visited by countless fans at each stop along the way, from the East to the West coast of the country. He was finally laid to rest in the Cathedral Mausoleum at the Hollywood Forever cemetery, in a chamber donated by June Mathis.
The fame in his lifetime, reputation for being the greatest “Latin Lover” of the screen, and sudden, shocking death have all naturally catapulted Rudolph Valentino to “icon” status, a status which has practically become mythical. Images of his face rarely circulate among the regular public nowadays and his movies may be known mostly to film buffs, yet mercifully, that legendary status remains.
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–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub
You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
