Unearthed Treasures – Episode #1 : Adrienne Lecouvreur

1 – Finding Adrienne

March 30, 2025

A post appears in a silent film Facebook group from British collector James Fennell — he’s the one who found 41 seconds of the legendary lost Cleopatra with Theda Bara (his YouTube page @OldFilmsAndStuff is a gem !).

In it, he explains that “a lady in Calais is selling about 30 reels of nitrate film.” James would like to buy the lot, as he has “a strong feeling there may be something of historical interest among the reels,” but the lady doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of shipping something so heavy and expensive.

It’s a feeling I share as soon as I see the photos.

I can spot tinting. A hundred years of history in those frames.

Delicious.

I’m from the North. Calais is (almost) just around the corner. I can’t let this one slip away. Without thinking twice, I send James a private message. He gives me the details, the contact info for the “Lady of Calais.” I reach out to her, make an offer.

Deal.

I can come pick up the reels.

I’m thrilled.

But honestly, this is madness. I’m not equipped to work with 35mm. I have no idea where I’m going to put all this, how I’m going to store it, what I’m even going to do with it.

A few days later, I’m heading for the coast. Brilliant sunshine. Quiet residential street. I arrive at the “Lady of Calais’” home. Everything happens fast.

“Do you know where the films came from?, I ask quickly.

– They belonged to my husband. His parents must have bought them at a flea market, a long time ago,” she replies, handing me the box.

That’s all I’ll find out.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

I’m buzzing. I drive home as fast as I can. I’m like a kid on the way to Disneyland.
Yet this is the first time I’ve ever made a completely “blind” purchase. No titles, no details, no clear images. Are the films complete? In good shape? Faded? Decomposed?

Sheer madness.

Finally home, it’s time to find out more about this mysterious “Calais lot” — and see if the gamble has paid off.

2 – Identifying Adrienne

Where to begin?

A quick once-over tells me the films seem to be in good condition. No moisture, no mold, no major damage — at least at first glance.

I set up a makeshift little workstation — improvised, rough around the edges.

Alright, time to dive in.

Almost at random, I pick a first reel. I unspool it. I watch. I take photos. I jot down notes. Animated advertisements, it seems. Titles. Two names on an intertitle card : Lortac and Cavé.

And one oddity: the film stock had actually been sewn together — with a needle and thread!

And here we go.

A second reel — and I recognize Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford.

A third — there are horses, an empress, a castle, Hungary; the film is tinted in orange, yellow, blue, and green.

A fourth — a little girl, a piano, a fire — all bathed in a vivid, striking red.

Hypnotic.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

I unspool, I shoot away.

And then—I find her.

There she is.

Sarah.

Three reels. Intertitles in Flemish and French. Orange, blue, green, red. Wigs. Costumes.

And one card that reads: « AS MAURICE DE SAXE ENTERS THE ROOM, ADRIENNE LETS OUT A CRY OF PASSION SO NATURAL THAT IT TRIGGERS APPLAUSE FROM ALL THE SPECTATORS. »

And a note: HECLA FILMS.

Google.

Keywords : « Film muet maurice de saxe adrienne ».

I click.

And it hits me like a punch.

It’s Adrienne Lecouvreur, directed by Henri Desfontaines and Louis Mercanton in 1912, starring none other than the legendary Sarah Bernhardt.

IMDb says: “This film is presumed lost.”

That’s it.

I’ve found my Holy Grail.

It’s right here, in front of my eyes, in my hands.

And it’s not just a few meters of footage—there are three reels !

I need to know more.

I need to know everything.

3 – Documenting Adrienne

Adrienne Lecouvreur was a real French actress, born on April 5, 1692, and died on March 20, 1730, in Paris. A great tragedienne, she joined the Comédie-Française, where she introduced a simpler, more natural style of acting. Her relationship with Marshal de Saxe earned her the hatred of her rival, the Duchess of Bouillon, whose jealousy was so intense that she had the great actress poisoned.

This tragic story of a tragedienne first inspired a play written by Eugène Scribe and Ernest Legouvé — a five-act drama-comedy premiered on April 14, 1849, at the Théâtre de la République. Then came the 1912 film starring Sarah Bernhardt, followed by an Italian remake in 1919, an operetta in 1926, another remake — this time American — retitled Dream of Love and directed by Fred Niblo with Joan Crawford in 1928, then a French version by Marcel L’Herbier in 1938, and again in 1955…

There have been many versions. But for now, only one truly matters to us.

So, let’s return to Sarah.

The actress first performed the play in 1880 at the Théâtre de la Gaîté-Lyrique and “selected the above play to begin her first American tour, which occurred at Booth’s Theater, New York City, November 8th, 1880, during which engagement she presented ‘Adrienne Lecouvreur’ twenty-seven performances.”¹ Sarah Bernhardt clearly fell as much in love with the play as her character did with the Marshal de Saxe, so much so that in 1907 she wrote her own version, this time in six acts, which was performed only once for the Parisian public during a special evening in aid of the victims of the Iéna tragedy — the military battleship that exploded in Toulon harbor on March 12, 1907, killing 118 people and injuring dozens more.

Five years later, the actress made yet another adaptation, this time in collaboration with William F. O’Connor, destined for the big screen. The film was produced by the Charles Urban Trading Company and directed by two filmmakers : Henri Desfontaines and Louis Mercanton. It was the third film to feature Sarah Bernhardt, following La Dame aux Camélias and La Reine Elisabeth — setting aside Le Duel d’Hamlet, a curious two-minute 1900 production notable for being both a sound and color film, as well as the short Tosca (1908).

The film Adrienne Lecouvreur was first released in France in 1912, distributed by the Agence Générale Cinématographique, and later enjoyed an international release, notably under the aegis of the Film Supply Company and the Hecla Film Company. The print in my possession comes from the latter, as indicated on the title cards:

According to an article published in Ciné-Journal in 1912, this “new major film production company has just been founded in England under the name Hecla Film Company, Limited, with headquarters in London, 89–91 Wardour Street W. This company intends to produce only sensational films, with the collaboration of popular actors, including Mme Sarah Bernhardt. Mr. Louis Mercanton, Sarah Bernhardt’s manager, has taken charge of the new company and will personally oversee all productions.”²

After its creation in England, the company expanded to the USA the following year: “Albert Blinkhorn, whose offices are on the eighteenth floor of the World Tower Building, 110 40th Street, New York City, has secured the agency for Hecla Films for the American market.”³

The film was released in the USA in January 1913 under the title An Actress’ Romance and was advertised as a three-part drama (three-reel) containing “ninety scenes.” This figure seems far too high given the length/duration of the film — a three-reel production typically runs about 30 to 40 minutes, depending on projection speed. Perhaps the actual number was “nineteen scenes” (19), which seems much more plausible?

In any case, an article mentions a number of key sequences from the film, even giving a title for each one:

1/ The Green Room of Theatre Français, Paris

2/ A Scene in Dressing Room

3/ Scene Enacted Before an audience

4/ Midnight Duel in Street of paris

5/ An escapade outside of Adrienne’s Apartments

6/ Reception before the King

7/ Conspiracy in the Park

8/ The Poisoned Candyn

9/ The scene in the Bastille Prison

10/ Duchess Poisons Adrienne

11/ The Famous Death Scene

It is difficult to accurately assess the film’s exact length, as figures vary depending on the country and the distributor. For instance, an American article mentions a length of 3,000 feet (914 meters), while a French article gives the very precise figure of 857 meters (2,811 feet).