Kevin's Movie Corner

The Three Musketeers (1939)

2012-01-25T11:39:00.000-08:00

“Either you love them or you hate them. Ever since 1925 the bombastic Ritz Brothers have elicited this kind of strong audience response. Film critic Pauline Kael rates the antics of Harry Ritz alongside those of Marcel Marceau. Mel Brooks has called Harry Ritz the funniest man alive. Sid Caesar and other funnymen have expressed their debt to Harry and his brothers. Apparently there are just as many, among the press and the public, who’ve never found the Ritz trio amusing. But the majority rules, in show business and in life. The Ritz Brothers entertained audiences for six decades – and kept ‘em laughing long and loud enough to remain headliners all that time.” (From “Movie Comedy Teams” by Leonard Maltin, Revised and Updated Edition, 1985, Plume Books).

Put me in the love category, but with a small “l.” I’ve seen just as many Ritz Brothers routines that had me doubled over with laughter as I’ve sat there stone faced as they make their facial contortions and cringe-inducing grimacing. But when they were at the top of their game, they could be very funny.

One reason why the Ritz Brothers have not endured like other comedy teams from the era is their lack of personality. Unlike other comedy teams from the era, the brothers had no specific characteristics where differing personalities merged into a harmonious whole.

I couldn’t tell the difference between Harry, Jimmy and Al Ritz if my life depended on it. Not only do all three act alike, they all look alike. (Others would say they haven’t endured because they weren’t funny).

The Ritz Brothers were a highly successful stage act, incorporating comedy and synchronized dancing in their routines. Thanks to their growing popularity and drawing power wherever they appeared, Twentieth Century Fox signed them to a contact and put them in support of stars like Alice Faye and Sonja Henie.

I think they’re hilarious in their “Let’s Go Slummin on Park Avenue” number with Alice Faye in “On the Avenue” (1937) but then I generally laugh at grown men dancing in women’s clothing and making ridiculous faces. But a later number in the same film, a take-off on “Ortchi-Tchorniya” goes on for what seems like days and has me reaching for the mute button on the remote.

They were successful enough at Fox that the studio built some films around them, such as “Life Begins at College” (1937) and “Kentucky Moonshine” (1938). After being let go by Fox in 1940, they signed with Universal Pictures to appear in the film version of Rodgers and Hart’s “The Boys from Syracuse” (1940). That fell through, but the Ritz Brothers stayed at the studio and made several B musical comedies with titles like “Argentine Nights” (1940) and “Hi’Ya Chum” (1943). But Universal was raking in the cash with their Abbott and Costello comedies, so Universal was not interested in giving the Ritzes good scripts or productions.

Many movie fans know them from the haunted house comedy “The Gorilla” (1939) likely due to the film falling into public domain and being available on a number of cheap video and DVD labels. They’re pretty obnoxious in it, if memory serves. The less said about their routines in “The Goldwyn Follies” (1938), arguably one of the worst musicals from Hollywood’s Golden Age, the better.

I was probably spoiled in my introduction to the Ritzes as I first saw them in what many consider the trio’s best film, “The Three Musketeers” (1939), a good-humored take-off on the famous Alexandre Dumas novel.

I’ve seen the film several times now and am always impressed by how much director Allan Dwan crams into the film’s short running time of 73 minutes. Dwan and company manage to work in quite a bit of the Dumas story, and still have room for Ritz Brothers comedy routines and several song sequences.

The cast can’t be beat (though admittedly, the supporting cast isn’t given much to do thanks to the film’s short running the time.) For romantic leads, there’s a well-cast Don Ameche and his very pleasant light tenor voice as D’Artagnan and charming Pauline Moore, a familiar face from several Charlie Chan films, as Constance.

Villainy is provided by Binnie Barnes as Milady DeWinter, Lionel Atwill as DeRochefort and John Carradine as a conniving landlord. The royals are represented by Gloria Stuart as Queen Anne, Joseph Schildkraut as King Louis XIII and Lester Matthews as the Duke of Buckingham. In a bit of inspired casting, Miles Mander is Cardinal Richelieu.

The Ritz Brothers do not play the Musketeers, but three cooks who masquerade as the Musketeers. Athos (Douglas Dumbrille), Aramis (John King) and Porthos (Russell Hicks) come to a tavern where the Ritz Brothers are singing about preparing chicken soup, which I can guarantee was not in the original Dumas story.

The Musketeers toast all the kings of France named Louis, and pass out by the time they get to Louis XIII. The Ritzes dress up in their finery to see what they would look like as Musketeers. Of course they are mistaken for real Musketeers and fight off the Cardinal’s Guards with the help of D’Artagnan, who has come to Paris to join the Musketeers. While D’Artagnan fights off the Cardinal’s Guards with his sword, the Ritzes use the aforementioned chicken soup.

After that, we get a pretty standard telling of the famous Dumas story, familiar thanks to so many movie versions over the years. Of course, those versions don’t include a generally hilarious sequence here where the Ritz Brothers attempt to steal from Milady De Winter an incriminating letter that she has placed down the front of her…er…ahem….charms. Because they are Musketeers, and gentlemen, they have to be careful about how they retrieve the message.

Their solution is to hold her upside down and shake her violently until the letter drops out. Two other letters fall out until the third one turns out to be one they are looking for. “She’s a post office,” one of the brothers says.

One wonders if Binnie Barnes was cursing her agent a blue streak when these scenes were being filmed. No matter, as the sequence is a masterpiece of slapstick and kills me each time I see it.

The other highlight is a synchronized dance routine where the Brothers have cymbals placed on all over their bodies, which they clang against with cheerful abandon. It’s very silly but undeniably funny.

In addition to the comedy, we get several delightful songs, as good as anything one would hear in more traditional costume operettas. There’s a lively “Song of the Musketeers” and a beautiful ballad titled “My Lady” that stands with the best of Victor Herbert, Sigmund Romberg or Rudolf Friml (or Rudy Friml, as Professor Harold Hills calls him).

I was really impressed by the quality of the songs here and wanted to know more about the film’s songwriters, a team unfamiliar to me, composer Samuel Pokrass and lyricist Walter Bullock. I was saddened to read that Pokrass died in 1939, and “The Three Musketeers” was his penultimate assignment. (I want to stress that my opinion on the film’s songs put me distinctly in the minority).

All of 20^th Century Fox’s studio sheen is here. The lighting and staging of the “My Lady” number equals musical sequences from more prestigious musicals and the sets and costumes make this probably the best-looking film the Ritz Brothers ever appeared in.

“The Three Musketeers” did see a DVD release. Before the economy went south, Fox Home Video had a Ritz Brothers collection in the works. I remember seeing it on the company’s web site. It was called something like A Box of Ritz Brothers. I don’t know what the titles were but several of them would have been making their home video debut. Regretfully, the box set never came to pass. (Again, many would say this was a good thing.)

I would have enjoyed having it around though. I would have laughed at some, but not all, of the Ritz Brothers routines, and it would be something to put on when wanting to get rid of annoying visitors who didn’t get any other hints it was time to go home. I think the Ritz Brothers would have approved.

I was very pleased to participate in the CMBA’s Comedy Classics Blogathon. I also urge my readers to not only visit these sites for the comedy movie blogathon, but on a regular basis. There’s always lots of fascinating insights and reading to be had at these sites on a regular basis. Visit http://clamba.blogspot.com/ for a list of titles.

Lust for Gold

2012-01-04T13:38:00.001-08:00

The best new movie I’ve seen in a long time is Columbia's “Lust for Gold” (1949), a really gripping movie that is as much a noir as it is a western, as much a contemporary treasure hunt movie as it is a historical look at the real-life discoverer of the famous Lost Dutchman Mine in Arizona.

You may ask how a 1949 movie could be new. Well, I had never seen it before, so to me it’s a new movie.

The film is a real showcase for stars Glenn Ford and Ida Lupino. Ford has never been one of my favorite actors of Hollywood’s Golden Age. I have nothing against him, and like him in many movies, but he was never the most charismatic of actors.

Still, I think his best performance is as the villain in the riveting “3:10 to Yuma” (1957) and his bad guy turn in “Lust for Gold” runs a close second. Maybe M-G-M and Columbia should have cast him as a villain more often? Yet, he was on the top box office draws of the era, so who can argue with success.

(I understand he plays a psychotic type in another western, “The Man from Colorado” (1948), though I’ve never seen it. That’s another new movie I need to see).

“Lust for Gold” concerns itself with the discovery of the famed Dutchman mine of Arizona. The movie is book ended with scenes set in modern-day Arizona, and young Barry Storm (William Prince) on the lookout for the historic treasure. He hears the story of the treasure from the local sheriff (Paul Ford) and deputy (Will Geer).

The film is based on a book called “Thunder Gods Gold” by Barry Storm. I’ve never read it so I don’t know if Storm was a character in the book.

These opening sequences were so long, I thought the DVD cover art was a mis-representation, and the movie was set in the contemporary west.

But no, we soon get to central portion of the movie, set in 1880, where we meet Jacob “Dutch” Waltz (Glenn Ford) , a down and out immigrant who stumbles across the mine and cold bloodily kills his partner (Edgar Buchanan).

He celebrates his fortune in town and attracts the attention of everyone, including Julia Thomas (Ida Lupino), who runs the bakery. Julia is married to the weakling Pete Thomas (Gig Young).

Dutch won’t tell anyone where the mine is, and only Julia feigns disinterest in the mine. This gets the attention of Dutch, who doesn’t know that Pete is (pardon the language) pimping out his wife to Dutch to learn the whereabouts of the mine.

Julia may wear high-necked blouses and large skirts, but she’s a femme fatale in the best noir tradition. She’s convincing in her love scenes with Dutch and he’s all into her, the poor sap, while in the next scene she’s using her wiles on her husband, telling him he’s only playing with Dutch until he tells her where the mine is. One gets the impression Julia could care less about either of them, and once she gets the loot from the mine, she’ll be out of there faster than the Road Runner.

When Dutch finds out he’s played for a fool, he doesn’t explode, like I expected, but instead decides to tell her where the mine is. And he doesn’t plan to let Julia or Pete leave the mine alive.

Despite the unusual psychological underpinnings of these characters, there are still some good action scenes to satisfy the western fan. There’s a particularly brutal attack by Apaches in an even earlier flashback, with arrows and spears shot with gleeful abandon into the bodies of some ambushed miners. Heck, there’s even an earthquake sequence.

The movie doesn’t end with Dutch and Julia’s story, but continues in the present day, with Barry Storm determined to find the whereabouts of the Dutchman Mine. Someone feels he’s getting a little too close, and tries to kill him. Despite a warning from sheriff, Storm continues the search. The climax is an exciting chase through the rocks and cliff sides between Storm and the killer.

“Lust for Gold” was shot on location in Arizona’s Superstitious Mountains, supposed site of the real Lost Dutchman Mine. Cinematographer Archie Stout does a remarkable job of making the Arizona desert and mountains look beautiful and terrifying, often in the same scene.

Co-screenwriter is Ted Sheredman, best known for his script for “Them!” (1954). I don’t know what it is about the desert, but that milieu was responsible for arguably his best work.

However, the most intriguing name behind the camera is director S. Sylvan Simon, a name familiar to fans of M-G-M musicals and comedies, such as “Whistling in Brooklyn” (1943) and “Abbott and Costello in Hollywood (1945). I’ve always had Simon pegged as a lightweight journeyman director, so I was really surprised at the noir-like nature and duplicitous characters so effectively on display in “Lust for Gold.”

Perhaps he was thrilled to be working with a script that had some real teeth to it and was determined to show what he could bring to the party. Alas, “Lust for Gold” was his last film. He died prematurely in 1951, dead of a heart attack at the age of 41.

There was a recent biography of Glenn Ford which appeared, penned by his son Peter. I have it on reserve from the library, and will be anxious to read about this film. Ford did seem to crave these villainous roles, and when he’s partnered with someone of fierce intelligence like Ida Lupino, the result is first-rate entertainment. I really enjoyed “Lust for Gold.”

Holiday Film Fun at The Tivoli

2011-12-14T13:19:00.001-08:00

One of my favorite traditions of the holiday season is currently underway at the Tivoli Theater in Downers Grove, IL, the town I currently reside in, having moved there in 2003. One of the reasons I moved to Downers Grove was to be close to the Tivoli Theater.

It’s likely odd to most people that I would choose to live in a community because of a movie theater (though likely not odd to regular readers of this blog.) But it wasn’t too much of a move, seeing as I was re-locating one town over from neighboring Westmont, where I lived for 13 years. So I’ve been going to the Tivoli regularly for almost 20 years. I hope I can say that for (at least) another 20 years.

Each year in December the Tivoli runs the five-day Holiday Film Festival. In the past the festival consisted of classic cinema, such as “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938), “Top Hat” (1935), “Shane” (1953) and other cinematic gems. The last couple of years however, the festival has focused on seasonal favorites. The selections vary from year to save for annual returns visit of “White Christmas” (1954) and “Christmas Vacation” (1989) which are sellouts year after year. But the other three days are given to different Christmas movies.

This week I enjoyed the great privilege of seeing projected on the big screen “Holiday Inn” (1942) and the sublime “Remember the Night.” (1940). “The Lemon Drop Kid” (1951), which introduced the song “Silver Bells”, was shown on Tuesday evening, the same time it was showing on TCM.

(If it wasn’t for “Christmas Vacation”, the Tivoli could have billed this week as a Paramount Christmas Celebration!)

I’ve written about the Tivoli before, and thought I would repeat what I wrote for latecomers to this blog.

The Tivoli is one of the jewels of the Chicago area. Lovingly restored by the fine folks at Classic Cinemas, a Chicago-area theater chain, the Tivoli is one of the longest-running continually operating movie theaters in the Chicago area.

Designed by the Chicago architecture firm of Van Gunten and Van Gunten, the Tivoli was one of the first theaters in the country to be constructed with sound equipment in mind. Early newspaper ads trumpeted its Vitaphone equipment and local newspapers called it “the wonder theater of suburban Chicago.”

It opened its doors for the first time on Christmas Day in 1928. The first attraction was Howard Hawks’ “Fazil” (1928) starring Charles Farrell, Greta Nyssen, John Boles and Mae Busch. More than 4,000 people turned up on Christmas to attend that first show, a neat trick since the theater only sat 1,390. It’s been running ever since.

A local restaurant has posted on its wall newspaper coverage of the restaurant’s 1955 opening. On the same page is an ad for the Tivoli that week, a double feature of “Not as a Stranger” and “One Desire.” That’s a long double feature but you know what? I would have been as happy as a clam at that double feature.

In addition to showing second-run movies with a sound system and screen size that puts most first-run theaters to shame, the Tivoli also presents live stage shows and concerts. A local dance troupe presents “The Nutcracker” ballet every December. Anderson’s Bookstore, a local independent book store, also hosts author appearances there, including Julie Andrews, a frequent visitor. Kevin Bacon and his band performed at the Tivoli a few years ago.

The theater’s interior is beautiful French Renaissance and remarkably little has changed over the years. Oh, there has been repainting and touch-ups. There’s a new marquee and a new candy counter. They made the spaces between the rows wider, necessitating removing some of the seats. (Current seating now stands 1,012 seats, a few hundred less than there was originally).

But the rest is still the same. Stepping into that beautiful auditorium is like being transported into a genuine movie palace, and when vintage films are shown there the results are breathtaking.

I always feel the time travel tingle when crisp, beautiful black and white images are shown there. I love the fact that a working 1920s-era movie palace is within walking distance of my house.

Recently updated to using digital projection, I believe the Tivoli screens its classic films using DVDs and Blu Rays. It’s beyond thrilling to see these films in this magnificent auditorium.

“Holiday Inn” was a particularly wonderful evening. We got there about 6:30 for a 7:00 start time and the holiday sing-along was already in progress. With a live organist providing musical accompaniment, slides are shown with the lyrics projected on the screen and everyone is invited to sing along with a live singer. (No bouncing ball, alas). This particular crowd was pretty reticent at first, but as the 7:00 start time approached, more people joined in.

The audience was obviously comprised of “Holiday Inn” lovers and I’m glad to say every age group and generations of families were in attendance. I didn’t see one electronic device be turned on the entire film. By the time movie started the auditorium was about three fourths filled and hearty applause greeted the film’s opening titles. Almost every number got applause, with the loudest reserved for Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas” and Fred Astaire’s Fourth of July firecracker dance. There was loud and sustained applause and cheers at the end titles and over the cast list. It was a great experience.

I’ve always felt that “Remember the Night” would be as much a beloved favorite as the other great holiday movies if only more people knew about it. Television screenings were spotty over the years, and despite a VHS release and its recent appearance on DVD, its previous unavailability means it’s not known by too many people. I hope that changes soon. I feel the same way about “The Shop Around the Corner” (1940), the OTHER great Jimmy Stewart Christmas movie that is beyond sublime. If only more people knew about it….

“Remember the Night” was written by Preston Sturges, so you know it’s something special. I’m deliberately skipping over some key plot points, but in a nutshell the movie concerns District Attorney Fred MacMurray who doesn’t want to see shoplifting suspect Barbara Stanwyck spend the Christmas holidays in jail when her case is held over until the New Year. He brings her home to Indiana to spend the holidays with his family on their farm in Indiana. Despite knowing her status, his family accepts her and Fred and Barbara slowly find themselves falling in love with each other.

I loved how the movie mixes equal parts comedy, drama and romance and heartache. Easier said than done, and few movies can switch gears with this much aplomb. If it was easy, everyone could do it. But it isn’t easy, yet it looks effortless here.

Some contemporaries of mine feel like everything that came out of Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s was formula. But there’s a scene in “Remember the Night” that strikes me as something very special, and quite modern. It’s a love scene between the two at Niagara Falls.

They discuss their hopes for a future together (knowing he has to put her behind bars once they return to New York), and the sequence is beautifully written and performed by the two actors. Director Mitchell Leisen puts their faces in darkness, so you can’t see their expressions. Instead we have to listen especially hard to the dialogue and voice inflections. The lack of light brings us into the scene with a shocking degree of intimacy. I was entranced by this scene, as I was the entire movie.

The audience seemed receptive to the movie, and there was rapt attention throughout. I noticed only one person turn on an electronic device at the beginning but it remained off the remainder of the movie. (People who turn on electronic devices in a movie theater should not be allowed to breed.)

The applause was very generous at the end and my friend who went with me who is hardly an old movie fan just loved it.

The Holiday Film Festival is still going on and I can’t wait to see what they offer next year. They have yet to show “Going My Way” (1944) or “The Shop Around the Corner” (1940). I hope to see those on the big screen one day. (They showed “The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945) a few years ago, but not the first Father O’Malley movie.)

Oh, and I didn’t mention the other great thing about the Tivoli. Unlimited refills on any size popcorn and soda.

Trail of Robin Hood

2011-12-02T09:08:00.000-08:00

I love the classic Christmas movies as much as the next person, but familiarity with them over the years tends to breed….not contempt, but a mild kind of ennui. I need to take a break from watching titles like “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) or “Miracle on 34^th Street” (1947) and return to them a few years down the road so I don’t tire of them.

But I still adore Christmas movies and an always on the lookout for new ones to savor. Last year I saw for the first time the delightful “Holiday Affair” (1949) with Robert Mitchum and Janet Leigh, which I will be returning to with much happy anticipation.

One title that doesn’t sound like a Christmas movie but is one is “Trail of Robin Hood” (1950), a Republic B-western starring Roy Rogers as a U.S. Soil Conservation worker going after Christmas tree rustlers.

Christmas tree rustlers? Scoff if you must, but it’s a most pleasant 67-minute film that left me thoroughly entertained and brimming with holiday cheer.

Filmed in TruColor, an admittedly lesser though acceptable color process, “Trail of Robin Hood” is set in Republic’s contemporary western fantasy land, where six shooters and buck board wagons share the scene with convertibles and televisions.

In one of his last films Jack Holt plays himself, a retired screen actor and now tree farmer who has earned enough money that he wants to sell Christmas trees to needy families and the local orphanages for 75 cents each, rather than the much higher prices charged by J. Corwin Aldridge (Emory Parnell), a businessman from the big city who possesses a monopoly on Christmas tree sales in the area, save for Holt’s farm.

Aldridge’s daughter Toby (not Dale Evans, but Penny Edwards) volunteers to head down to see what the hold up is with Holt not signing on with her father.

She meets with Roy Rogers and soon throws in with him, especially since Aldridge’s main muscle Mitch McCall (Clifton Young) has gone from stealing Christmas trees from Holt’s farm to acts of vandalism, arson and beating up Holt’s drivers, all in an attempt to cut out Aldridge and keep all the profits to himself.

With the drivers too scared to deliver their wagons of Christmas trees to the orphans, who comes to the rescue but a slew of past and present cowboy stars playing themselves. Riding into town and volunteering to drive the wagons full of Christmas trees are current cowboy stars Rex Allen (Republic’s other singing cowboy), Allan “Rocky” Lane and Monte Hale. Matinee cowboy stars from previous eras include William Farnum, Tom Tyler, Ray “Crash” Corrigan, Kermit Maynard (Ken’s brother) and Tom Keene.

This being a Roy Rogers movie, there are plenty of songs. There are no Christmas standards on hand – I guess Roy felt there was no way he was going to compete with Gene Autry in that field – but the songs are very pleasant. They include such titles as “Get a Christmas Tree for Johnny” and “Every Day is Christmas in the West.”

(You may not have heard of them but they are very likeable, hummable and are infinitely preferable to Paul McCartney’s “We’re Having a Wonderful Christmas Time”, my vote for the most execrable Christmas song of all time. End of aside.)

Director is ace action expert William Witney, a great favorite of Quentin Tarantino. He knows how to keep a good balance between the songs and the action, and anyone bored with the songs still have their fill of horseback chases, rescues from burning buildings and fist fights. Concurrently, those bored with the action have pleasant music interludes to enjoy.

The climax is an exciting one, involving all those great cowboy stars racing their wagons full of Christmas trees across a burning railroad trestle, while on the ground below Rogers and McCall duke it out in the best Republic fist fight tradition.

I don’t think I’m giving anything away that the Christmas trees are safely delivered. Aldridge decides to team up with Holt to provide affordable Christmas trees to everyone. In the last scene it starts snowing and Roy Rogers and Trigger ride off, accompanied by his dog Bullet.

To be sure “Trail of Robin Hood” will never make anyone list of great Christmas movies, but I had a most enjoyable time watching it. I can only imagine how kids in 1950 flocked to see this one, seeing Roy Rogers and Trigger take on a gang of meanies hijacking Christmas trees meant for the local orphans.

I would imagine adults enjoyed it too, and despite its modest pleasures, I look forward to re-visiting this one, along with George Bailey, Kris Kringle, Dudley the Angel, Mr. Matuschek and so many others.

It also made me wonder how many other cinematic Christmas gems are out there waiting to be unwrapped.

The Adventures of Robin Hood

2011-11-09T13:05:00.001-08:00

A group of us recently watched “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938) in Blu Ray in my friend’s home theater, and its countless viewings haven’t dimmed my enthusiasm one bit. I’ve probably seen it more times than any other film. At least 30 viewings of it and that may be a conservative number. It’s been almost a week now since I last saw it, and I can’t wait to see it again.

As long as I can remember it’s been my favorite movie and no other title has ever supplanted it. The Blu Ray transfer is absolutely gorgeous, but the film doesn’t demand optimum viewing conditions to work its magic.

My first exposure to the film was annual viewings on our black and white television on WGN-TV’s much loved Family Classics movie program, interrupted by commercials and edited to fit a two-hour time slot. Even with these restrictions, the film grabbed me and never let go.

Finally seeing it uncut, uninterrupted and in Technicolor at a revival screening at Chicago’s Biograph Theater in 1975 was a real treat. It didn’t improve the movie, but made a great movie even greater.

“The Adventures of Robin Hood” may be one of the best-loved films of all time and I’m not sure what I can add about it that hasn’t already been written. What I can do, though, is put down some oddball trivia and thoughts I’ve had about the film over the years. Believe me, this will not be a linear essay. I will assume most people reading this are familiar with the movie.

“The Adventures of Robin Hood” was one of those happy instances where the right people came together at the same time. Is it a perfect film? No, but it comes as close to perfection as any film I can think of. So, let me get a few miniscule negatives out of the way.

During the feast sequence after the Merry Men have ambushed Sir Guy’s men, Robin Hood (Errol Flynn) and Maid Marian (Olivia deHavilland) walk through the forest where a group of fugitive peasants are gathered. Why aren’t they at the feast? How come they haven’t joined the other revelers? Is it because they’re too broken and wounded? I always wondered about those folk.

During the archery tournament the archers shoot at the traditional multi-colored bulls eye targets. Were these bulls eye targets really available in medieval England? Maybe someone could fill me in, but those targets look a little too contemporary to me.

And that’s it. Those are my negatives about the film.

Oh, some smart alceks snigger about Robin’s costuming, what with green tights and a jaunty feather sticking out of a cap. Blasphemy, I say!

Robin Hood is a legend, and I want my Robin Hood to wear that green outfit and be a brave and courageous hero, robbing from the rich to give to the poor, risking all to protect the helpless and fighting tyranny with his band of Merry Men, as likeable a group of outlaws that ever existed.

Watching Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood, one understands why the Robin Hood legend has endured for centuries, something you don’t get while watching the Kevin Costner or Russell Crowe versions.

Much like 1960s advertising which proclaimed Sean Connery IS James Bond, Errol Flynn IS Robin Hood. Early casting was not so fortuitous, as in 1935, Warner Bros. toyed with the idea of casting James Cagney as Robin Hood and Guy Kibbee as Friar Tuck.

Initial reaction tells me I can’t picture Cagney in the role. Still, its always fun seeing Cagney stick it to authority figures, which Robin Hood certainly does. He’s an amusing cowpoke in “The Oklahoma Kid” (1939) so maybe he would have been a good swashbuckler after all. His dancing background meant the choreographed duels would have been something to behold. Would lack of an English accent have hindered him?

Personally, I don’t care about such things. I don’t recall any serious criticism regarding the lack of an English accent from Clark Gable’s Fletcher Christian or Gregory Peck’s Horatio Hornblower.

Burt Lancaster plays a Robin Hood-type in medieval Italy in the wonderful “The Flame and the Arrow” (1950) without the slightest, tiniest attempt at an accent. The film doesn’t suffer a bit for it. (I won’t even go into one scene where Virginia Mayo dons a shorts outfit that looks like she just played a set of tennis at the Bel Air Country Club. Yowzah! If this was medieval Italy, I’m sorry the Renaissance ever took place).

Besides Cagney, “The Adventures of Robin Hood” is laden with what ifs. It was a long process between the initial idea to do a Robin Hood film and the final product. In some cases we have glimpses of other films to give us a good idea of what could have been.

Anita Louise was originally slated to play Maid Marian. We have an idea of what she might have been like when she essayed the role in “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest” (1946).

Early versions of the script wrestled with the climax, with several drafts featuring an elaborate siege of Nottingham Castle by Robin’s men and King Richard’s returning Crusaders. This was nixed due to cost considerations. (As it was, “The Adventures of Robin Hood” was Warner Bros. most expensive film to date, costing $1.4 million).

We have an idea of what the siege might have looked like thanks to M-G-M’s “Ivanhoe” (1952). “Ivanhoe” is pretty much the same story as Flynn’s Robin Hood; indeed Robin Hood and the Merry Men take part in the castle siege. It is a marvelous sequence and one almost as satisfying as Warners’ eventual solution. (In a further odd coincidence, Olivia deHavilland’s half sister Joan Fontaine plays the Saxon princess Rowena in “Ivanhoe.”)

A major part of Robin Hood’s success is the landmark and much loved score by Erich Wolfgang Korngold. I personally know rock and roll fans who wouldn’t think of ever going to a symphonic concert or listen to classical music who have Korngold’s Robin Hood score in their CD collections.

It envelops the film in such a feeling of good fellowship, romance and adventure that it’s impossible to consider the film without it. Who was partly responsible for the score? Adolf Hitler.

Producers Hal Wallis and Henry Blanke begged and pleaded with Korngold to score the film, and with each call Korngold got more and more stubborn in his refusals. (Korngold enjoyed a very enviable contract with Warner Bros. He could refuse any assignment offered him and had first pick at the studio’s most prestigious films.)

Korngold wrote to Wallis, “Robin Hood is no picture for me. I have no relation to it, and therefore cannot produce any music for it. I am a musician of the heart, of passions and psychology. I am not a musical illustrator for a 90 percent action picture.”

Warner Bros. Music Director Leo Forbstein went to Korngold’s home to beg and promise him the moon to take the assignment. Korngold finally (partially) relented, saying he would work on it on a week by week basis, with the caveat he could quit at any time.

Korngold finally agreed to finish the film only after learning about the German invasion of Austria and learning his property had been confiscated by the Nazis. Korngold spent the next seven weeks composing the score, which would earn him his second Academy Award and become one of his best loved compositions. No doubt Korngold was inspired by the film’s message exhorting freedom and the struggle against tyranny and oppression.

This also means that if the Cagney version had been produced circa 1935 or 1936, it most likely would not have been scored by Korngold.

On a side note, I always wondered if anyone ever recorded Errol Flynn’s reactions to the musical scores in his movies. Along with Charlton Heston, Errol Flynn probably had more genuinely great film music written for him than any other actor or actress.

The only mention I can find comes from Brendan Carroll’s invaluable biography on Korngold “The Last Prodigy” (Amadeus Press, 1997). In the mid-1950s Flynn was producing a movie based on the William Tell legend, and Flynn contacted Korngold about composing the score. Korngold turned Flynn down, saying he had retired from film scoring. Still, Flynn must have thought well enough of him to approach him with the assignment.

“The Adventures of Robin Hood” earned almost unanimous critical raves, and Warner Bros. earned back its production costs many times over, not only in its initial release but as one of the most popular re-issue titles in the Warner Bros. library.

In “The Adventures of Robin Hood, Wisconsin/Warner Bros. Screenplay Series” (The University of Wisconsin Press, 1979), film historian Rudy Behlmer writes he read countless contemporary reviews of the film, and only found one dissenting opinion. In the London Observer, critic C.A. Lejeune wrote, “It must have been an almost superhuman task to make a dull film on the subject of Robin Hood, but the Warner Brothers, who have never flinched from major difficulties, have almost managed it. I don’t know when I have seen more money, more care and more important workmanship lavished on such a stupendous presentation of the obvious.”

I have one another dismissive comment and it shocked me to the core. Growing up, my favorite film historian was the late film historian William K. Everson. Anything he wrote was an automatic purchase.

In 1981, he made several visits to Chicago to the Film Center at the Art Institute to screen films from his private collection. My dad and I went on a Saturday afternoon to see Fritz Lang’s rarely screened (at the time) “House by the River” (1950). We met Mr. Everson in the lobby and enjoyed several minutes chatting with him and we got several of his books signed.

I was bold enough to ask him about one of his assertions in his book “Love in the Film” (Citadel Press, 1979) where he wrote regarding the Ronald Colman version of “The Prisoner of Zenda” (1937): “One can almost pin down The Prisoner of Zenda as being the last (and best) of the great romanticist adventure films.”

I asked him about the wonderful love story in “The Adventures of Robin Hood” and didn’t he consider it a great romanticist adventure film?

I can’t remember his exact words, but he said no, color was the main star of “The Adventures of Robin Hood” and without it, it was a fairly ordinary adventure film.

My dad and I were both stunned into silence, but we resumed our conversation and it was a most pleasant one. We didn’t agree with him of course, but it was a good lesson to learn that even our critic idols can enjoy wildly different opinions. But I still think he was wrong. I have lots of black and white memories of “The Adventures of Robin Hood” that tell me otherwise.

The Texas Rangers (1936)

2011-10-18T12:29:00.000-07:00

In honor of the Texas Rangers making their second World Series appearance in a row (Go Rangers), I look at the epic western “The Texas Rangers.”

Director King Vidor was one of the cinema’s great visual artists. Just think about some of the memorable imagery of “The Big Parade” (1925), “The Crowd” (1928), “Our Daily Bread” (1934) or “The Fountainhead” (1948), among many others.

That visual eye is obvious in “The Texas Rangers” (1936) a big-budget western from Paramount. Vidor, a Texas native, co-wrote the script based, supposedly, on incidents from Texas Rangers history. That history book must have been written by a Hollywood screenwriter as “The Texas Rangers” is pure Hollywood hokum.

But hokum done in the best Hollywood tradition, and I don’t mean to use hokum in a pejorative sense. But was the following really drawn from Texas Rangers history?

A trio of outlaws are robbing stagecoaches in Texas. They are Jim Hawkins (Fred MacMurray), Wahoo Jones (Jack Oakie) and Sam “Polka Dot” McGee (Lloyd Nolan). Before their next holdup, they find out the stagecoach contains a Texas Ranger, a new breed of lawman determined to stamp out lawlessness.

Hawkins and Jones make their way to a Ranger station and enlist with the local Ranger troop, under the command of Major Bailey (Edward Ellis).Of course, the Major has to have a beautiful daughter living with him, Amanda (Jean Parker).

Amanda and Jim take to each other immediately, even though Jim and Wahoo go forward with their plan to send messages to McGee about Ranger plans to stop the bandits. Learning the Rangers plans means McGee can plan other robberies without fear of getting caught.

But the two outlaws eventually learn to like the right side of the law and the comradeship of the Rangers. They stay with the Rangers but McGee, now known as the Polka Dot Bandit due to his polka dot scarf, has a new gang and steps up his campaign of robbing and terrorizing the populace. Guess who gets assigned the case of bringing The Polka Dot Bandit to justice?

A fairly trite story to be sure, but Vidor’s eye is as magnificent as ever. This is no back lot evocation of Texas. Rather Vidor and crew went to New Mexico to film their exteriors and the film’s very lavish action sequences. (In that pre-Internet era, a movie called “The Texas Rangers” could be filmed in New Mexico and not raise a ruckus.)

Vidor does a fine job of framing individual characters against the majestic landscapes, which look like they could swallow a man whole.

The movie is remembered for two sequences. The first is the film’s big action set piece, a terrifically exciting clash between the Rangers and the Apaches. After a fierce fight on the plains, the Apaches cleverly maneuver the surviving Rangers to hide behind some rocks on the sides of the hills. With the Rangers pinned down and surrounded by the Apaches, another group of Apaches above push huge boulders down the hill toward the trapped Rangers. The sound effects here are really impressive, as the rocks sound like giant roaring monsters racing towards the helpless Rangers. (The film earned its sole Oscar nomination for Best Sound).

I can only imagine how many kids were talking about this sequence in school the next day. Major Bailey says something like, “Only an Indian would think of a trick like that”, but I’m sure the kids in the schoolyard were saying, “That was pretty smart strategy on the part of the Indians.”

The other famous scene takes place during a dialogue scene between Nolan and Oakie, where Nolan, feigning friendship and good cheer, pulls a gun out and under the table shoots his friend Oakie in the belly.

The cast can’t be beat. It’s an early role for MacMurray but he already possessed that laid-back charm which made him a favorite with audiences for several decades. Oakie is more subdued than usual, and any movie with Lloyd Nolan in it is an automatic watch. I do prefer him as the hero, or as a good bad man. Here he’s an out and out bad guy.

At the end, MacMurray and Nolan face off in gunfight and chase each other through some rock formations. The sequence looks ahead to Anthony Mann’s famous climaxes in such classics as “Winchester 73” (1950) and “The Naked Spur” (1953). As impressive as some of the Hollywood backlots are, even Hollywood’s ace production designers would be hard pressed to come up with as impressive rock formations and gullies on display here.

Paramount re-made “The Texas Rangers” in Technicolor as “Streets of Laredo” (1949) with William Holden, William Bendix and Macdonald Carey in the MacMurray, Oakie and Nolan roles, respectively. I’ve never seen it, but it’s generally considered an inferior remake. Still, its one of those maddeningly elusive Paramount titles I hope turns up on TCM.

“The Texas Rangers” was a big hit with 1936 audiences, though not as big as Paramount’s other “A” western that year, DeMille’s “The Plainsman” with Gary Cooper as Wild Bill Hickok and Jean Arthur as the loveliest Calamity Jane imaginable. But I think the Rangers trumps the DeMille, since DeMille’s film features too many action scenes shot on soundstages. Looking at the two, the Vidor is, visually, by far the more spectacular.

“A” westerns were not really common in the 1930s. There were a few, but not many. Universal lost a small fortune with “Sutter’s Gold” (1936) and M-G-M and William Wellman delivered a rather ho-hum “Robin Hood of El Dorado” (1936). (Wow, 1936 was quite the year for big budget westerns).

Paramount delivered another “A” western the following year with “Wells Fargo” with Joel McCrea and Frances Dee. I’ve never seen that one but always wanted to.

It would take the magic movie year of 1939 for the major studios, by some form of cinematic mental telepathy, to release a remarkable series of big budget westerns to critical and commercial success. Warner Bros. gave us “Dodge City” and “The Oklahoma Kid”; Universal happily gave the world “Destry Rides Again”; Paramount rode the rails of success with DeMille’s “Union Pacific”; 20th Century Fox delivered the biggest hit of them all in “Jesse James” with Tyrone Power and Henry Fonda. Even Poverty Row studio Republic Pictures delivered a very respectable and fairly expensive film about Sam Houston called “Man of Conquest.” The adult western would come to fruition that year with John Ford’s classic “Stagecoach.”

These films carried the western as a reputable and profitable genre for decades to follow.

“The Texas Rangers” is available on DVD in a beautiful transfer in a four pack of westerns including “Canyon Passage” (1946) with Dana Andrews and Susan Hayward; Raoul Walsh’s “The Lawless Breed” (1953) with Rock Hudson and Julia Adams; and “Kansas Raiders” (1950) with Audie Murphy and Brian Donlevy. I purchased it for $5 at Big Lots.

And for what it’s worth, I’m picking the Rangers over the Cardinals in six games.

William Holden: A Many-Splendored Thing

2011-10-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

I’ve always liked William Holden, but the older I’ve gotten and the more I’ve seen of his work, I’ve changed my opinion of him.

I now think he is one of the movies’ finest, most versatile and most underrated actors.

While this is a purely subjective list, here are William Holden films I consider masterpieces, and some of the greatest movies ever made.

“Our Town” (1940); “Sunset Blvd.” (1950); “Stalag 17” (1953); “The Country Girl” (1954); “The Bridge on the River Kwai” (1957); “The Wild Bunch” (1969); and “Network” (1976).

Just below that are a remarkable list of films that almost made inclusion into the above list, several of which just missed by the taddiest of tads: “Texas” (1941); “Born Yesterday” (1950); “Executive Suite” (1954); “Sabrina” (1954): “The Bridges at Toko-Ri (1954); “Picnic” (1955); “The Horse Soldiers” (1959); “The Counterfeit Traitor” (1962); “The Towering Inferno” (1974, and no, I’m not joking) and his final film, “S.O.B.” (1981).

Here's what’s key: Many actors and actresses have an equally long list of distinguished work, but I’m hard pressed to think of another actor who hit so many home runs in so many different genres and types of movies.

From comedy to drama, from western to war, and from social satire to romance, Holden boasts one of Hollywood’s most impressive and all-encompassing filmographies, one that many actors would kill to possess. .

Oh, William Holden made more than his fair share of average movies and quite a few out and out clunkers, including a couple of titles that re-define the term “unwatchable.” I mean have you ever swum through the syrupy morass of “The Christmas Tree” (1969)? Or prayed for death while watching “When Time Ran Out” (1978)? The less said about the hideous “Satan Never Sleeps” (1962) the better.

But that’s OK. Even superstars have to eat. Still, Holden is always worth watching, and I don’t think he gets the credit he should. Like Cary Grant, he makes it look so easy.

In his book “William Holden” (Pyramid Illustrated History of the Movies, 1976), Will Holtzman astutely points out, “Holden was never a sacred image, and was rarely predictable. He had no tricks or trademarks to tote from picture to picture as an instant index to his character. He was a half generation off pace, too late for the studio-spawned superstars, too early for the stage-trained method actors.

“So Holden followed his own instincts, battled typecasting, and hit up on a blend of technique and repertoire that sired several of the finest performances in motion picture history.”

Looking at the above list, it’s obvious that the 1950s was William Holden’s decade. He fit the image well. As Holtzman suggests, it was probably the perfect decade for him. Not for him the matinee idol heroics of a Flynn or Tyrone Power of preceding decades, Holden’s characters were often cynical and always seeking an edge, giving an audience of what to come in the following decades. Think of his roles in “Stalag 17” or “The Bridge on the River Kwai.”

But Holden could also play sincere with the best of them. There’s a reason Robert Wise cast him as an idealistic architect in “Executive Suite” and Sidney Lumet made him the conscience of “Network.”
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Smack in the middle of the 1950s Holden had one of his biggest hits, Twentieth Century Fox’s decidedly uncynical “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” (1955).

I watched it the other night and enjoyed myself, though, for me, it would not make the above list of great Holden titles. Still, it’s compulsively watchable.

This movie made oodles and oodles of 1955 coinage, with women in droves likely dragging unwilling husbands and boyfriends with them. But I’d be surprised if they weren’t equally entertained by this love story set in Hong Kong between married, though separated, foreign correspondent Mark Elliott (Holden) and the beautiful Eurasian doctor Hun Suyin (Jennifer Jones, in an Oscar-nominated performance).

It helps enormously that Holden and Jones are both magnificent physical specimens, which we see when they both strip down to their bathing suits and decide to swim across Hong Kong Harbor to drop in on some friends on the other side. The house on the other side looks like something Dr. No would live in, and I think this scene illustrates one of the reasons the film was such a big hit.

Cinemascope cameras allowed new wide screen vistas of exotic cities like Hong Kong. Foreign tourism was still fairly rare. One might never make it to Hong Kong, but audiences could go to their local movie house and experience Hong Kong in all its Technicolor, Cinemascope glory.

And with two stars like Holden and Jones holding center court, few audience members could resist. This is no backlot reproduction of Hong Kong, but the real thing.

A winning title song also helped. Played throughout as underscore, the famous Sammy Fain and Paul Webster song won a deserving Best Song Oscar that year. Alfred Newman took home the Oscar that year too for Best Original Score, though I suspect Academy members were voting for the song there too. No one ever said Academy members are the most musically literate people in the world.

Director is Henry King, who I’ve also always liked and also consider underrated. His is a lengthy filmography which dates back to silent cinema, but his films are often full of warm, human touches. One of these days I’ll get around to writing about a small jewel of a film called “I’d Climb the Highest Mountain” (1951) with Susan Hayward.

Despite my fondness for King, I wish he had paid a little more attention to possibilities here. There’s a memorable scene with cigarettes which rivals that of Bette Davis and Paul Henreid.

Still attired in their bathing suits, Holden has a cigarette in his mouth and Jones takes one and puts in her mouth. She needs a light. Holden leans over and lights her cigarette in her mouth using his cigarette in his mouth. It’s a pretty erotic scene, but King doesn’t linger on it. Once that cigarette is lit he fades out to a scene of the two of them driving home. It’s a beautifully played scene but I wish King had allowed it to linger a bit longer.

Without spoiling the movie for anyone, Jennifer Jones’s big emotional scene towards the end first struck me as curiously underplayed, but on thinking about it I can appreciate where Jones is going. Her Eurasian background is at odds here – wanting to let her emotions go but also reining them in so she doesn’t make a scene. She deserved the Oscar nomination she received.

(Jones’s exotic looks are such that I think little make-up was required to make her Eurasian. Maybe a Jones authority would know more about that)

There’s good support to by Torin Thatcher and Isobel Elsom as a spoiled couple who think their every wish should supersede everyone else’s. They’re the personifications of the Ugly Americans.

Holden’s performance is fine, but to be fair he doesn’t do much. His Mark Elliott is not one to show feelings, but we do see him relax after falling in love with Hun Suyin. Their cultural differences are brought up, but not much is made of them. Her being Eurasian probably helps, but the film (based on the book by the real Hun Suyin) shows what is changing during these post-war years. We still have a long ways to go, but in the 1950s the initial steps are there.

The final scenes are quite moving and no doubt sent many audience members out weeping into their handkerchiefs. Let the cynics scoff, but there’s something to be said about a film willing to go full throttle on an audience’s emotions and not be ashamed of it. Some may think such an ending could not work today, but they’re wrong. Just think back on a movie like “Ghost” (1990). Audiences like this type of material, but it has to be done right, not contrived and it has to be earned. “Ghost” accomplished this, and so does “Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing”.

Back to Holden. Today, we do have a couple of actors like him: Kurt Russell and Dennis Quaid. They’ve both been around for decades and I’m afraid audiences take them for granted. Never flashy or drawing attention to themselves, they consistently turn in good performances in every conceivable genre. Russell especially can switch from comedy to drama to action with the beautiful dexterity of a tightrope walker.

But they’re rarely recognized come awards season and I suspect that when they’re gone audiences will realize how much they’ve been missed.

I remember reading an interview with William Holden while he was filming “Damien – Omen II” (1978) in Chicago. The interviewer asked him why he was starring in an Omen movie. Holden said in his long career he had done everything but horror and porn. He wasn’t about to do porn, so a horror movie it was.

When you think of it, William Holden really did do everything in his career. And nobody did it better.

(Note to readers: I’ve been having tremendous computer problems of late. Aargh! I'm trying my hardest not to use language that would have been prohibited by the Production Code. Even placing the pictures here took twice as long as usual. And, the problems are even preventing me from leaving comments on other's bloggers. (Don't worry, I'm still reading my fellow bloggers.) It's likely I may not be able to moderate comments until the evening. I thank everyone for their patience and understanding until this fixed).

Guilty Pleasures Movie Blogathton: The Devil Bat

2011-09-16T08:31:00.000-07:00

Would you use a bottle of shaving lotion given to you by Bela Lugosi, especially after he recommends you “rub it on the tender part of your neck?”

Of course you wouldn’t, but there are quite a few characters in “The Devil Bat” (1940) who do accept the lotion, the scent of which attracts the title creature, created in a lab by the “kindly” Dr. Carruthers (Lugosi), and wind up dead with their throats torn out.

“The Devil Bat” (1940) is Bela Lugosi’s finest hour on Poverty Row (OK, make that 69 minutes). In his only film for PRC Studios, Lugosi delivers one of his most enthusiastic portrayals as he uses his giant bat to gleefully kill off members of two families he feels have cheated him out of profits for a successful cold cream formula.

No, I’m not making this up.

“The Devil Bat” is set in fictional Heathville, IL. However, one of the characters does mention going to a house on Cottage Grove Avenue, which does exist and is a main thoroughfare through the South Side and south suburbs of Chicago. This is my old stomping grounds, so I like to think I used to live in an area where a giant devil bat flew overhead in search of victims.

Dr. Carruthers feels he was cheated out of profits from his cold cream formula made rich by businessmen Henry Morton (Guy Usher) and Martin Heath (Edward Mortimer).

Never mind that Dr. Carruthers did agree to a cash payment up front and meager royalty payments, instead of waiting for the product to become successful. No, Carruthers feels he’s been cheated out of millions of dollars in profits and is ready to exact his vengeance.

The sons of the Heath and Morton families are found dead with their throats torn out, but no one knows by who or why. Chicago Daily Register Editor Joe McGinty assigns reporter Johnny Layton (Dave O’Brien) and photographer “One Shot” McGuire (Donald Kerr) to the story.

McGinty is played by Arthur Q. Bryan, the voice of Elmer Fudd. Can this film get any better?

I’m jumping ahead with the story a bit, because the film actually opens with Lugosi in his lab, wearing goggles, watching through a window as electricity surges through the upside-down-hanging giant bat. These are intercut with stock footage close-up scenes of a real bat head. Ick!.

Director Jean Yarbrough toiled in the “B” movie arena most of his career to intermittent effect. He did direct one of Monogram’s most enjoyable horror films “King of the Zombies” (1941), but that’s due more to Mantan Moreland’s comedy than any chills generated.

He can also lay claim to directing one of the best Bowery Boys outings, “Master Minds” (1949) co-starring Glenn Strange and Alan Napier.

Unfortunately Yarbrough’s name graces Universal’s dullest horror film, “She-Wolf of London” (1946), though even James Whale couldn’t have saved that turkey.

But he does an OK job with “The Devil Bat.” The scenes of the bat attacking its victims are actually pretty well staged, especially since the bat is accompanied by a high-pitched scream. However, Yarbrough should have left an attack or two for the end and instead teased us with the earlier attacks.

After all, there’s only so much variety to be had in an attacking giant bat, especially on a Poverty Row budget. You’ve seen one devil bat attack you’ve seen them all, no matter how well they’re staged.

But this was PRC and in his book, “Poverty Row Horrors!” (McFarland & Company, 1992), Tom Weaver brings up a great point about the appeal of Poverty Row horror movies, and PRC in particular:

Like most of PRC’s horrors, The Devil Bat plunges headlong into the plot. The film opens as Lugosi enlarges one of his bats, then (to let us know what’s going on) floridly describes his evil plans to the bat (!). PRC’s films often began at the point of creation of the monster (The Devil Bat, The Mad Monster), or with the monster already in existence (Dead Men Walk, Strangler of the Swamp, The Flying Serpent). Most would probably find this a lazy or juvenile device, but there’s something to be said for movies that know just what their audiences want, that skip all the worn-out yap and jump right into the meat of their stories. By its halfway point, the werewolf in The Mad Monster is already hip-deep in murder and mayhem; at the halfway point of Universal’s The Wolf Man, Lon Chaney has yet to show even a trace of five o’clock shadow. This is not to say that The Mad Monster is a better movie than The Wolf Man, but just that some studios made horror films that had a lot of build up while the folks at PRC, who liked zip in their pictures, relied more on action.

Bela Lugosi was one of the most magnetic performers of Hollywood’s Golden Age, and as Dracula, added millions of Depression-era dollars into Universal’s coffers.

But he was a lousy businessman and had even worst representation, and in the late 1930s and 1940s found himself on Poverty Row. While Universal wasted Lugosi in butler or manservant roles, Poverty Row at least gave Lugosi the lead role in their horror movies. It may be Poverty Row, but at Monogram or PRC, Lugosi was king.

Poverty Row was a term given to studios that specialized in “B” product and if you weren’t a major studio you were on Poverty Row.

Republic Pictures may have been considered a Poverty Row studio, but they were the M-G-M of Poverty Row, as their films had good production values and often attracted name stars from other studios. Certainly the stunt work and miniatures at Republic for their serials and westerns were every bit as good, if not better, than similar work at the major studios.

Below Republic was Monogram Studios and below Monogram was PRC. PRC stood for Producers Releasing Corporation (not Pretty Rotten Crap, as some wags would suggest). Making a movie at Monogram or PRC meant you were either on your way up or on your way down.

“The Devil Bat” was Lugosi’s one and only outing at PRC, and it’s probably the best horror film he made for a Poverty Row studio. What it lacks in logic it makes up for in enthusiasm.

Audiences who went to see a movie called “The Devil Bat” got their money’s worth as there are about half a dozen bat attacks. No gore, of course, but the devil bat is one of the more unusual monsters of 1940s horror filmdom.

An acting job at PRC meant no time for wardrobe changes. O’Brien wears the same suit throughout most of the movie. I noticed this because he wears the same tie, which features a large question mark in the middle, like something Frank Gorshin’s Riddler character would wear. I was greatly relieved when O’Brien wore a new suit coat and tie in the film’s final scenes.

“The Devil Bat” made gobs of money for PRC, and the studio was not going to let a quality prop like that go to waste. In 1944, The Devil Bat chased Buster Crabbe through a cave in one of his Billy Carson westerns, “Wild Horse Phantom” (1944).

PRC re-made (kind of) “The Devil Bat” as “The Flying Serpent” in 1945. In that one, George Zucco uses the flying serpent, found in an Aztec monument, to kill off victims of an archaeological expedition he feels cheated him out of recognition of his findings.

“The Devil Bat” even earned a sequel, a rarity on Poverty Row, with one of the most awkwardly titled movies of all time, “Devil Bat’s Daughter” (1946).

It’s one of the dullest flicks ever made, as we follow Dr. Carruthers’ daughter (Rosemary LaPlanche) who thinks she’s a vampire. By the end of the movie, the daughter has also cleared her father of the bat attacks from the first film!

As Tom Weaver says, “One hopes that no theater ever double-billed the two films.”

(My favorite example of Poverty Row illogic comes courtesy of Monogram Pictures. In 1943, Bela Lugosi starred in “The Ape Man.” A year later, he starred in “Return of the Ape Man.” Story-wise, the two films have absolutely nothing in common. Such is the happy land of Monogram.)

Leading lady Suzanne Kaaren had an interesting career, and was arguably Donald Trump’s least favorite actress.

Three Stooges fans know Suzanne Kaaren as Gail Tempest, the dancer who strips to her dancing clothes in a courtroom and performs a routine in one of their best shorts “Disorder in the Court” (1936). She toiled in “B” movies and in 1943 married Sidney Blackmer, a well-regarded actor best known for playing the warlock Roman Castevet in “Rosemary’s Baby” (1968). They stayed married until his death in 1973. They had two sons, Jonathan and Brewster. Gee, I wonder what their favorite play was?

In the 1980s Donald Trump wanted to purchase the New York apartment building she was living in and convert it into condos. She refused to leave and he threatened to evict her. They went to court and after a vicious legal battle, the court ruled in her favor. In 1998, however, the decision was overturned and The Donald was finally able to turn the building into condos. Kaaren, however, did receive $750,000 in compensation. She died in 2004.

“The Devil Bat” is a great favorite of horror fans and is one of the easiest Lugosi films to see. Since it slipped into public domain status, it has been released on VHS and DVD countless times, often in less than desirable prints. Regardless of print quality, it remains a very entertaining 69 minutes and gives Bela Lugosi one of his most gloriously sinister roles, alongside one of 1940s horrordom’s most unusual monsters. What’s not to like?

Lust for Life

2011-09-12T09:01:00.000-07:00

Kirk Douglas should have won Best Oscar in 1956 for his portrayal as Vincent van Gogh in “Lust for Life.” It’s a stunning performance, and arguably his best.

Looking at his competition, I’m sure Douglas thought he would win. James Dean and Rock Hudson would likely split the vote for “Giant”, and two actors reprising their stage triumphs, Laurence Olivier for “Richard III” and Yul Brynner for “The King and I”, were the remaining contenders.

According to Kirk Douglas’ wonderful biography “The Ragman’s Son” (Simon & Schuster, 1988), everyone told him he was a shoo-in and the third time would be the charm, after losing Best Actor Oscar bids for “Champion” (1949) and “The Bad and the Beautiful” (1952).

But Douglas was in Germany shooting “Paths of Glory” (1957) when he learned that he lost to Yul Brynner. Sure, Brynner is great fun to watch, and it’s probably the ultimate Yul Brynner performance, but I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that it didn’t hurt that he starred in the biggest hit of the year, “The Ten Commandments.”

Always one of the most physical of actors, Douglas brings his trademark intensity to the role while still expressing van Gogh’s inner pain. His body appears to shrink before our eyes as he faces one crushing disappointment after another, and his encroaching mental illness becomes too much for him to bear.

Some accuse Douglas of overacting in this film, but I don’t think so. Van Gogh was hardly the shrinking violet type. Just look at his paintings and see how alive and vibrant they are. Whether he was a preacher valiantly struggling to bring the Word of God to a poverty-stricken coal mining village, or falling in love with his first cousin Kay, and later a prostitute, van Gogh did nothing in half measures.

An intense, brilliant and haunting soul, van Gogh felt his emotions much deeper than anyone around him. Douglas is splendid in showing the inner torment and expressing the joy of creation, but not sugarcoating the character. Like many artists, van Gogh seemed to operate on a different plane.

In his autobiography, Douglas writes, “Playing Vincent van Gogh shook up my theory about what acting is all about. To me, acting is all about creating an illusion, showing tremendous discipline, not losing yourself in the character that you’re portraying…but I was close to getting lost in the character of van Gogh… I fled myself going over the line, into the skin of van Gogh. It was a frightening experience. The memory makes me wince. I could never play that part again. For a long time after I finished the movie, I didn’t see the picture.”

Douglas did some of his best work under the direction of Vincente Minnelli and “Lust for Life” and “The Bad and the Beautiful” are two of the best films in the actor’s (and director’s) careers.

In a recent post on “Brigadoon” (1954), I wrote of Minnelli’s initial disappointment at not being able to shoot on location in Scotland, instead re-creating the Scottish village on the M-G-M soundstages.

No disappointments on “Lust for Life”, as Minnelli and Company were able to film not only in Europe, but in the actual locations where van Gogh lived and painted.

Of course with Minnelli directing, I don’t have to mention how gorgeous the film looks. I especially liked watching the re-creations of country life and still portraits, with van Gogh in the foreground recreating them on canvas. This is followed by a slow fade until we see the final product, backed by the dramatic music of Miklos Rozsa.

“Lust for Life” was nominated in the Color Art Direction category but lost to “The King and I.” No doubt, Oscar voters thought Minnelli just used the locations that were already there.

An Adapted Screenplay nomination was awarded to Norman Corwin for his adaptation of Irving Stone’s best-selling (and immensely readable) 1934 novel. Corwin lost to the screenwriting team, which included S.J. Perelman, who adapted Jules Verne’s “Around the World in 80 Days.”

“Lust for Life” wasn’t left totally bereft at that year’s Oscar ceremony. Anthony Quinn won his second Best Supporting Actor Oscar as van Gogh’s friend Paul Gauguin. He’s not in the film that much, but when he’s there he’s brilliant. Quinn was also a magnificent physical actor and uses his body well.

For example, there’s a scene Quinn plays with no dialogue, when Gauguin is looking at van Gogh’s paintings and we see across his face equal parts admiration, envy and awe at what he’s seeing. It’s a marvelous scene and beautifully played by Quinn.

Quinn’s competition that year was Mickey Rooney in “The Bold and the Brave”, Don Murray in “Bus Stop”, Anthony Perkins in “Friendly Persuasion” and Robert Stack in “Written on the Wind.”

I think the Academy made the right choice. Quinn may not be on-screen as much as the other nominees, but he makes every scene count when he is there. The final argument scene between Gauguin and van Gogh is unbearably painful to watch. Douglas is equally magnificent in these scenes as he sees his friendship with Gauguin dissipate due to his own fierce stubbornness and encroaching mental illness.

I remember reading an interview with Robert Stack years later and he was still bemoaning losing to Anthony Quinn. No doubt rubbing salt in his wound was that his “Written on the Wind” co-star, Dorothy Malone, took the Best Supporting Actress Oscar that year for her work in that film.

Helping the movie immeasurably is the beautiful score by Miklos Rozsa. Rozsa has great fondness for the movie and writes in his autobiography “A Double Life” (Hippocrene Books, 1982) about the immense pleasure he had in writing the score.

Arguably the most cultured of the Golden Age composers, Rozsa describes how impressed he was with the film, the first cut of which was three hours. M-G-M knew they couldn’t sell a three hour film about a suicidal painter and cut it down to a more manageable two hours. Rozsa said that three hour cut was a thing of beauty and he responded with one of his best scores. He took special care with this assignment.

Rozsa writes about his approach to musically illustrating van Gogh’s life: “He was a post-impressionist, but post-impressionism in music comes much later than van Gogh’s death at the end of the nineteenth century: pictoral trends are always between 25 and 40 years ahead. The music he himself knew would have been that of the 1880s – Wagner, Liszt, Cesar Franck – but I felt that mid-19^th century romanticism has little in common with his work. Somehow I had to evolve a suitable style in terms of my own music. It had to be somewhat impressionistic, somewhat pointillistic, somewhat post-romantic and brightly, even startlingly colorful, much like the tenor of his paintings.”

We see many of van Gogh’s paintings throughout the movie but in the final scene the camera pulls back and we see a wall filled with those magnificent van Gogh canvases. Art museums and private collectors from around the world, including Edward G. Robinson and director Charles Vidor, donated their paintings to use in the film, and that final scene with all those paintings on display is literally breathtaking.

Kirk Douglas is this month’s Star of the Month on TCM. They will be airing “Lust for Life” on Tuesday, September 20 at 8:00 EST.

Brigadoon

2011-08-29T13:15:00.001-07:00

The following appeared last week on Sam Juliano's wonderful Wonders in the Dark blog (http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/) as part of the countdown of Sam's 70 favorite musicals. There's a different essay each day on a new musical. Any lovers of musicals can't afford to miss out on checking out Sam's site.

A major criticism of “Brigadoon” (1954) is it was shot on the M-G-M soundstages and not on location in Scotland. If there was ever a musical that should have been shot outdoors, some say, it is “Brigadoon.”

I never really bought that argument because the Scottish village and hillside created for the movie are so gorgeous to look at. While the idea of shooting on location in Scotland does sound appealing, the often unpredictable nature of Scottish weather could have seen costs soar. The fact that M-G-M used AnscoColor instead of Technicolor means they were definitely watching the bottom line.

Plus, because so many theaters were still unequipped to show movies in the new Cinemascope format, “Brigadoon” was shot twice, once in the standard wide-screen format and again in Cinemascope. Shooting in Scottish weather once would have been daunting enough, but shooting twice would have been tempting fate.

“Brigadoon” is a fantasy along the lines of “Lost Horizon” and a most beguiling one at that. Brigadoon is a magical Scottish village that appears only 100 years. It is discovered by accident by two American hunters who find themselves lost in the Scottish highlands.

Tommy Albright (Gene Kelly) is something of a lost soul, someone who knows his life is missing something, but he can’t put a finger on it. His best friend is Jeff Douglas (Van Johnson), who has a drinking problem and has no faith in anything he can’t see, taste, smell or touch.

They see the village through the morning mist and are perplexed at its quaint costumes and customs of the inhabitants. Tommy meets Fiona Campbell (Cyd Charisse) and begins to fall in love with her. Fiona’s sister Jean (Virginia Bosler, re-creating her role from the Broadway production) is getting married that day to Charles Dalrymple (Jimmy Thompson). It promises to be a merry day in Brigadoon except for the dark cloud known as Harry Beaton (Hugh Laing), who is in love with Jean and does not want to see her married to another man.

“Brigadoon” opened on Broadway on March 13, 1947 and was an immediate success. It was the first big hit for composer Frederick Loewe and lyricist and book writer Alan Jay Lerner.

Based on a German fairy tale called “Germelshausen”, about a German town which appears every 100 years, “Brigadoon” retained the idea but transferred it to Scotland.

The show ran 581 performances on Broadway and its London engagement played 685 times.( Other musicals playing on Broadway that season included: “Oklahoma!”; “Carousel”; “Call Me Mister”; Annie Get Your Gun”; “Beggar’s Holiday”; “Street Scene” and “Finian’s Rainbow.”)

It took famed producer Arthur Freed several years to bring “Brigadoon” to the screen. It was first announced in 1951, and was to have re-teamed Gene Kelly with his “Anchors Aweigh” (1945) co-star Kathryn Grayson. That fell through, though Kelly remained as part of the deal. With that in mind, it was decided to make the movie more dance-oriented. Kelly wanted Moira Shearer for the Fiona role, but her commitments to the Sadler Wells Ballet Company prevented that. Finally, M-G-M contract player Cyd Charisse was given the assignment.

For the role of Jeff, producer Arthur Freed wanted to re-team Kelly with Donald O’Connor from “Singin’ in the Rain” (1952), but O’Connor was no longer under contract to M-G-M, so Van Johnson was cast. A good choice, and Johnson had started his career as a dancer in the chorus.

Harry Beaton makes vague threats about leaving Brigadoon, even though it would spell disaster to the whole town. Tommy is puzzled by the village but finds himself falling in love more and more in love with Fiona, especially after singing and dancing to the haunting “The Heather on the Hill”. Eventually he learns the secret of the village from the village schoolmaster, Mr. Lundie (Barry Jones). Thanks to a covenant with God, Brigadoon materializes only every 100 years and none of its inhabitants can ever leave its boundaries. Mr. Lundie tells Tommy an outsider can remain in the village only if they love someone in Brigadoon, not the village itself.

By all accounts, “Brigadoon” was not a happy set. Vincente Minnelli was always on board to direct, and even though he initially wanted to film on location in Scotland, he quickly realized how much more control he would have in Hollywood. He and Gene Kelly had worked well together on “Ziegfeld Follies” (1946), “The Pirate” (1948) and “An American in Paris” (1951) and appreciated each other’s talents.

But Kelly was bitterly disappointed at not shooting on location and stayed morose throughout the shooting.

Kelly is quoted in “A Hundred or More Hidden Things: The Life and Films of Vincente Minnelli” by Mark Griffin (DeCapo Press, 2010) and admits he and Minnelli were never in synch on this production.

Griffin writes: “Minnelli envisioned the movie as ‘more of an operetta’ - the type of ‘theatrical artifice’ that was like an “An American in Paris” and more like “The Pirate”. Kelly however, saw “Brigadoon” as a Scottish Western, - Arthur Freed meets John Ford. When the entire production veered more in Minnelli’s direction, the star-choreographer was unhappy, and it showed. Minnelli later said he ‘had many talks with [Kelly], trying to impress on him the need to show exuberance in the part.’ But the star remained remote and grim-looking.”

Kelly and Minnelli also took to re-writing the script on the set, which infuriated screenwriter Alan Jay Lerner when he heard about it. He complained to Freed, who immediately sent a cease and desist order to Kelly and Minnelli. They complied.

The wedding between Charlie and Jean takes place at night, lit by torches and attended by the entire village in their most colorful finery. The entire village joins in the dancing, including Harry. He makes his way to Jean and violently kisses her. He is attacked by Charlie and they two have to be restrained. Harry breaks free and announces he is leaving Brigadoon and the miracle is over.

The men search the surrounding countryside for Harry to no avail. He almost makes good his escape until, hiding in a tree, he is accidentally shot by an inebriated Jeff, who has left the wedding ceremony to go grouse hunting.

Charlie Dalrymple was played by Jimmy Thompson, who had appeared as the singer/narrator in the “Beautiful Girl” number in “Singin’ in the Rain” (1952). Thompson could not handle the vocal demands of the role, so was dubbed by John Gustafson. He was not the only one to be dubbed, as Cyd Charisse was dubbed by Carol Richards.

Jeff convinces Tommy that Brigadoon isn’t for them, and they return to a very noisy New York City. Tommy is distant from his fiancée Jane (Elaine Stewart) and everything reminds him of Brigadoon. The two return to Scotland. Tommy is desperate to return to the village’s site, even though the village won’t appear for another 100 years and he knows he’ll never see Fiona again. The village does appear before them as does Mr. Lundie. He tells Tommy he must really love her, because he woke him up. Tommy runs to the village and meets Fiona coming out of her house. They walk slowly towards each other as the camera pulls back and the chorus swells.

I think “Brigadoon” is an absolutely gorgeous film to look at and listen to. With that score how could it not be ambrosia for the ears? But thanks to the remarkable behind the scenes musical talents at M-G-M, a beautiful score is made even more ravishing, and the art direction and set design are some of the most impressive for any M-G-M musical.

Musical director was the great Johnny Green with the arrangements made by the legendary Conrad Salinger. One of the reasons why M-G-M musicals are so good is because of Salinger’s contributions.

In the notes accompanying a Chandos CD celebrating songs and production numbers from MGM musicals, the late and eminent film music historian Christopher Palmer wrote of Salinger:

“Salinger’s was actually a complex musical personality, narcissistic and perfectionist (everything sounds fresh and spontaneous, but I have a feeling the wastepaper basket overflowed many times with rejected drafts). Ravel described his own orchestration as ‘complex, but not complicated’ and much the same could be said of Salinger’s. His scores are studded with detail, with incidental subtleties and small felicities of all kinds, but they are never cluttered, never made-up to the point whereby glamour becomes overkill. The perfume is exclusive – and expensive – but Salinger knows exactly how much to put on, and where. Pop songs are like people in that if they are to be dressed up a basic simplicity must always obtain. That Salinger understood that was part of his genius.

“…But the real Salinger was the de luxe quality of orchestral texture exemplified by “Dancing in the Dark”, “Singin’ in the Rain” and “The Heather on the Hill” – a quality born of his feeling for beauty of timbre, for mood, for atmosphere, for nuance, above all for line, for the give and take of melody and countermelody. His vocal accomplishments are object lessons in subtlety, sensitivity and understatement.”

Choral arranger for the film was Robert Tucker, and I think the choral work in this film is equal to the work choral arranger Ken Darby was doing at Twentieth Century Fox. In fact I’ll go out on a limb and say this is probably the finest choral work in any M-G-M musical.

The choral work is amazingly acute and precise in “The Chase”, the sequence where the men of the village hunt for Harry. The hushed opening chorus as the camera pans also the highland countryside as the village emerges from the mist sounds like something from a dream. Naturally, there’s a lot of good choral work in M-G-M musicals, but the chorus truly surpassed themselves here.

Vincente Minnelli’s sense of design and space is also well on display here. The film’s opening number, “Down on MacConnachy Square” is a riot of color and excitement as the village awakens to live another day. The group dancing in the “Go Home to Bonnie Jean” shows Minnelli’s understanding of the wide Cinemascope image and how to use it to maximum advantage. .

The wedding sequence is also a marvel of sight and sound as the different clans gather, with bagpipes playing and the villagers turned out in their best attire. Lit by torches it’s an evocative sequence that’s a marvel to behold. This is immediately followed by the aforementioned “The Chase” which looks like it was shot in almost one take, or at least one or two long, continuous takes. The planning and preparation must have been enormous, but Minnelli had a huge canvas to stage the sequence on and he makes every bit of it count.

How big was the “Brigadoon” stage? Hugh Fordin’s invaluable look at the Freed Unit, M-G-M’s Greatest Musicals: The Arthur Freed Unit” (First De Capo Press Edition, 1996) tells us:

“According to the script, the story would take place on two main sites: the hills of Scotland and the village of Brigadoon. These were to be constructed on three separate sound stages, until (Art Director Preston) Ames came up with the ingenious idea of combining everything on one stage, creating a vast panorama. He presented his idea to Minnelli. ‘I think you’re crazy,’ said Minnelli, ‘but do it! But remember, I want lots of heather!

“To execute this enormous undertaking, the construction department built hillsides and valleys, a village with many cottages and a bridge spanning a brook; there were livestock and all the trappings of the outdoors. One man was responsible for creating the visual illusion of the Scottish countryside: George Gibson, the same man who so masterfully executed the backdrops for the “American in Paris” ballet. His backing for the “Brigadoon” set was 600 feet wide and 60 feet high. Gibson’s painting was so realistic that even the birds were attracted by ‘their natural habitat’ and flew through the open stage doors straight into the backdrop.”

In transferring the show to the screen, some compromises had to be made and some songs dropped. The man-hungry Meg Brockie character lost her songs and was relegated to only two scenes with Van Johnson. As played by Dodie Heath, she’s a delight, but the Hays Office nixed the mildly risqué lyrics in her two songs, “The Love of My Life” and “My Mother’s Wedding Day.” It’s too bad because she’s such a delight. (Ironically, the role was played on Broadway by Pamela Britton, who played Frank Sinatra’s girlfriend in “Anchors Aweigh” (1945). There’s another Gene Kelly connection right there).

Other songs filmed but edited out of the final print were “Come to Me, Bend to Me” (sung by Charlie to Jean); “There But For You, Go I” (sung by Fiona to Tommy) and “The Sword Dance” (performed by Harry Beaton and dancers at the wedding ceremony).

The DVD of “Brigadoon” offers these deleted numbers as an extra, and I was particularly intrigued by the “There But For You, Go I” number. While the song was excised from the final print, the dance remains but is re-scored by a more expansive orchestral treatment of “The Heather on the Hill.” The sequence occurs after the chase and death of Harry Beaton, and as gorgeous as the song is, it does slow the action.

Since Fiona and Tommy began to fall in love as they sang and danced to “The Heather on the Hill” earlier in the movie, I liked the reprise here as it seems to strengthen the character’s love into a deeper and more affecting relationship.

“Brigadoon” opened to fairly tepid reviews. Griffin quotes two. “The whimsical dream world it creates holds no compelling attractions,” said Penelope Huston of the London Times. Newsweek said, “Hollywood can still put its worst foot forward in the classic manner.”

Audiences liked it though, and it grossed more than $3 million. It’s a film that seems to get better with age. It still has its detractors, but Minnelli’s direction, and the incomparable dancing of Kelly and Charisee and that classic Lerner and Loewe score, make this a film to be enjoyed over and over. And with the current economy and the seemingly never-ending streak of bad news, who wouldn’t want to find a place like Brigadoon in their own lives?

Albuquerque

2011-08-18T09:14:00.000-07:00

Movie-wise, there are few experiences more pleasurable than kicking back with a Randolph Scott western.

Scott knew his audiences, understood what they wanted, and gave it to them. I have recollections of reading that Scott was among the most consistent moneymakers throughout the late 1940s and 1950s. While none of his films were blockbusters, they didn’t lose money either. I would think that an executive who green lighted a new Scott western did so with no trepidation.

Critics sing hosannas over the seven films he made towards the end of his career with director Budd Boetticher and you’ll get no argument from me. They’re jewels, filled with interesting, flawed, if not slightly eccentric characters who happen to play their dramas against the beautiful panoramas of the west.

The Scott westerns of the post-war era leading up to the Boetticher years are more traditional, but still very entertaining. While some may be better than others, I can’t think of any out and out clunkers. Indeed, I can’t think of a moment’s regret spent watching a Randolph Scott western.

“Albuquerque” (1948) is a case in point. I stayed engrossed and entertained over the course of its 89-minute running time. It was directed by Ray Enright (who coincidentally also directed Scott seven times, including a real winner, “Coroner Creek”, also from 1948), and Enright sure moves things along. There’s hardly a wasted scene.

At one point, Enright superimposes iris-like shots of townspeople placing bets on the success of a freight expedition leaving town, which we see in the background. That’s an effective way of showing two different images without cutting back and forth between them.

Randolph Scott plays Cole Armin, who comes to the town of Albuquerque to work for his uncle John Armin (George Cleveland). Fans of the Lassie TV series may be surprised to see Cleveland not playing a kindly Uncle John, but a martinet who rules the town and surrounding territory with ruthless efficiency.

Cole had come to Albuquerque on a stagecoach with fellow passengers Ted Wallace (Russell Hayden) and his sister Celia (Catherine Craig), along with a little girl played by Karolyn Grimes (Zuzu of Zuzu’s Petals fame).

The Wallaces traveled to Albuquerque to start a freight transportation operation but have their money stolen in a stagecoach robbery. Cole finds out that his uncle was behind the robbery. He retrieves the money, and throws in with the Wallaces to help them start their company in opposition to his uncle.

John Armin has the town sheriff in his back pocket, and a group of thugs headed by Lon Chaney to keep everyone in check. Enright must have liked Chaney’s features, because he gets more close-ups than anyone else in the movie, including Randolph Scott and leading lady Barbara Britton.

Scott and Chaney have a pretty good fisticuffs sequence. I was amused to see Chaney’s cigarette stay lodged in the corner of his mouth even after Scott delivers some pretty vicious punches. Finally, at the end Scott delivers a couple of terrific wallops which finally dislodge the cigarette.

Britton plays Letty Tyler, a spy planted in the Wallace operation by John Armin. She begins relaying information to Armin about the Wallace’s plans but soon changes her mind when she finds herself falling in love with Ted.

“Albuquerque” was shot on location in Sedona, Arizona in the two-tone Cinecolor process, which was one of the more acceptable Technicolor substitutes. It looks fine to me on the DVD transfer.

On loan from Republic Studios is George “Gabby” Hayes as Juke, who becomes a teamster driver for the Wallaces and participates in the film’s big action sequence towards the end, when Cole and Juke have to traverse wagons full of supplies down a narrow mountain ridge with the ledge only a step or two away. One of Armin’s men has sabotaged Cole’s brake, and the horses get skittish and erupt into a run. Cole desperately tries to control the horses and yell warnings at Juke as they both speed down the mountain. It’s a good action scene marred only by some obvious process screen work in the close-ups.

But the medium and far shots of the horses speeding down the mountain with the wagon wheels brushing against the drop off are very well done and satisfying in a way modern-day CGI can’t be. These are actual horses and stunt drivers accomplishing these stunts.

Also supporting the action is a first-rate score by Darrell Calker, a composer I’m not very familiar with. His opening title theme is a real winner, and I look forward to seeing what else of his is out there.

Margaret Mitchell wanted Scott to play Ashley Wilkes but he lost the role to Leslie Howard. A native of Virginia, I always felt Scott would have made a splendid Ashley.

Randolph Scott ended his screen career in 1962 with Sam Peckinpah’s “Ride the High Country”, one of the finest westerns ever. He had grown rich from real estate investments and didn’t need to work any further. Along with John Wayne, Randolph Scott can lay claim to ending his career with one of his very best films and performances. More distinguished and well-revered names cannot make that claim.

Family Lore: In the mid 1930s, my uncle was a young boy and sold newspapers at Chicago’s LaSalle Street station. In those days when air travel was far less common, travel by train was the way to go from coast to coast. Many a celebrity was spotted at LaSalle Street station waiting to transfer on a train to the West Coast, but my uncle only remembered seeing one celebrity. He heard a voice ask, “Son, can I get a paper” and he looked up and saw it was Randolph Scott. He sold him the paper and even got an autograph from him.

My dad remembered my uncle racing home to tell everyone he met Randolph Scott and showed them the autograph. Over the years the autograph got lost but even later in life my uncle always said Randolph Scot was the most handsome man he ever saw.

Hey, I'm a Liebster

2011-08-11T13:51:00.001-07:00

“I’m Late. I’m Late for a Very Important Date” is a song lyric from Disney’s “Alice in Wonderland” (1951).

It’s also my excuse for being tardy in acknowledging that, last week, I was given a Liebster Blog from fellow blogger Caftan Woman.
http://caftanwoman.blogspot.com/.

Not really late, but I was on vacation part of last week and part of this week and didn’t log onto a computer except to check work e-mail.

All of this Liebstering between the classic movie blogging community went on last week so here I am several days late and I may be the last one to do so. (This will teach me to log on more frequently while on vacation).

In my defense, though, I wasn’t around the house much and even didn’t get in as much movie watching (aka TCM catch up) as I planned to when I began the vacation.

So I was unaware until the other day that I had received this very nice Liebster (which sounds like something S.Z. Sakall would call Joan Leslie or Doris Day) and it is now my duty - no pleasure - to present the Liebster to five other classic movie bloggers whose work I enjoy.

It was very difficult to pick only five as there are many, many bloggers whose blogs I read. I went back and forth on many of these and finally decided on these five. I could have easily done 15 or 20 more.

I think some of these sites already received a Liebster but they’re all sites I enjoy visiting and ones that no fan of Golden Age Hollywood cinema can afford to miss out on. There’s some fabulous writing and images on these sites.

Classic Film Boy’s Movie Paradise
http://www.classicfilmboy.com/
A pleasure to read, Brian’s site takes a look at classic Hollywood movies in unique and interesting ways, pointing out ideas and themes I would never have thought of on my own.

Jim Lane’s Cinedrome
http://jimlanescinedrome.blogspot.com/
One of the more current additions to my blog list, and it quickly jumped to the head of the list as one of my favorites. Jim’s site is beautifully illustrated and augmented with lots of fascinating background information. I first discovered Jim’s site when he reviewed Henry Hathaway’s “Prince Valiant” (1954), which is one of my all-time favorite movies.

The Movie Projector
http://themovieprojector.blogspot.com/
R.D. Finch is one of the best and most astute writers on classic films. I have many character flaws, but jealousy is not one of them, but man, I wish I could write like R.D.

The Lady Eve’s Reel Life
http://eves-reel-life.blogspot.com/
Bright, witty and engaging and just a joy to read.

Classic Becky’s Brain Food
http://classicbeckybrainfood.blogspot.com/
Becky is one of the best friends that classic Hollywood has. Her enthusiasm is infectious.

50s Monster Mash Blogathon: Giant from the Unknown

2011-07-28T07:17:00.000-07:00

One of the most unusual 1950s movies monsters was Vargas, the resurrected 500-year-old Spanish conquistador who awakens from a deep slumber in contemporary California and proceeds to terrorize the countryside until dispatched by a heroic young archaeologist.

Vargas is played by ex-boxer Buddy Baer, who didn’t need any special effects to improve his already impressive 6-foot, 6-inch frame. However, his features are augmented by make-up created by none other than Jack Pierce. In fact, Buddy’s title card in the opening credits is one sure to raise cheers of Universal monster fans the world over: “and Buddy Baer in make-up created by Jack Pierce.”

You can bet the suits at Universal or any of the other major studios would never, ever deem fit to honor a make-up man in such a fashion. But Giant director Richard E. Cunha was a huge fan of Universal’s monster movies of the 1930s and 1940s and wanted to pay an appropriate tribute to one of his idols. Vargas is even resurrected in a most impressive fashion in a terrific thunder and lightning storm that brings to mind Dr. Frankenstein and Fritz tending to their latest creation.

To be honest, Baer’s make-up is not particularly scary but Baer’s resurrection scene is one of the more effective moments in 1950s monster moviedom. The camera tracks across a pile of leaves and then we see a hand emerging from the pile. The camera continues to track across the pile of leaves and stops. We then see a pair of eyes staring through the leaves, as Vargas rises to his enormous height and begin his reign of terror. The lighting and thunder, and Albert Glasser’s music, create a most memorable scene.

(One of the major plot holes of the film is the film’s opening scenes have the townspeople discussing with the sheriff the animal mutilations and strange noises heard in the countryside. If Vargas is resurrected later in the film, than what is causing those strange occurrences?)

Regardless, there’s a lot of entertainment value to be had in “Giant from the Unknown”, which I’ve always enjoyed and I suspect a lot of other 1950s monster movie fans do as well. Despite those plot holes, it’s pretty impressive for a movie that took 10 days to film on a budget of only $55,000.

On location filming made the film look as good as it does. No studio backgrounds here but real locations filmed at Big Bear Lake, Big Bear Dam and the town of Fawnskin, California, located almost 100 miles northeast of Los Angeles. Six days of filming were allotted at these locations, with the remaining four days used for interiors back in Hollywood.

How did director Richard E. Cunha get so much accomplished for only $55,000? Doing triple duty helped, as Cunha also served as the film’s cinematographer and (uncredited) editor.

Using existing sets also helped. The old mill and log cabins seen in the film were originally constructed in 1936 for Paramount’s lavish Technicolor outdoor adventure film “The Trail of the Lonesome Pine.” Still in pristine condition at the time, Cunha and company wisely worked them into the script.

How else to save money on the shoot? Get free room and board. Cast and crew stayed at the Lagonita Lodge (formerly The Fawn Lodge) in Fawnskin. Cunha made a deal with the Lodge’s operators to have their sign posted on a car door featured prominently in the film. In return, the cast and crew stayed for free. Crewmembers also doubled as extras in early scenes where townspeople gather to discuss the animal killings and strange occurrences happening in their town.

1958 was a busy year for Cunha as he directed three other films that year which are fondly remembered today: “She Demons” (to be written up in this blogathon on August 1 by W.B. Kelso at http://microbrewreviews.blogspot.com/); “Missile to the Moon”; and “Frankenstein’s Daughter.” Much was accomplished on those tiny budgets, and I wonder if those god-awful “Transformers” movies will be as fondly remembered 50 years from now?

I like all those movies, especially “She Demons” but my favorite may be “Giant from the Unknown.” It’s really B movie heaven. You have a lot of action packed into its 77-minute running time; a very appealing hero and heroine (Edward Kemmer and Sally Fraser, who also teamed up that year in Bert I. Gordon’s “The Spider”); Morris Ankrum as an authority figure; and former cowboy great Bob Steele as the town’s sheriff. I also got a kick out of Gary Crutcher’s performance as Charlie Brown (!), who becomes very un Charlie Brown-like when his sister Ann (no, not Lucy) is killed by Vargas and Charlie Brown decides to go after the supernatural giant.

Buddy Baer does make a most impressive evil giant, though in real life was known for his genial nature. An ex-boxer and the brother for former heavyweight champion Max Baer, he was the uncle of Max Baer, Jr., Jethro in the “Beverly Hillbillies” television series. Other famous movie credits include playing another giant in “Jack and the Beanstalk” (1952) starring Abbott and Costello, and as Ursus, Deborah Kerr’s bodyguard in M-G-M’s impossibly lavish “Quo Vadis” (1951)

Any 1950s giant monster movie can only be better when accompanied by Albert Glasser’s music. Never one for subtlety, Glasser lets loose with his trademark loud brass punctuations and an electronic instrument that sounds like a theremin, but I’m not sure that it is. It could be an electro theremin.

In an interview for Scary Monsters Magazine, Gary Crutcher appreciated the contribution Glasser made to the film. He remembers producer Arthur Jacobs (not the producer of the “Planet of the Apes” movies) saying how fortunate he was to have Glasser score their movie. Crutcher adds, “I personally think he rivaled Bernard Herrmann. Others may disagree, but that’s my opinion on Glasser’s music. There could have been a soundtrack out for it because he put forth so much music for such a small picture. It was a powerful score and it was clear that he really worked on that one. It didn’t just happen.”

Another slight disappointment is the abrupt climax, as Crutcher remembers. “I wasn’t there when they shot the original finale fight sequence, with Buddy and Kemmer, but they did shoot it. What happened was they realized the shutter on the camera had been closed and they lost the whole thing! Very true. It was a shame because they couldn’t go back and do it again. No time. The sequence that you see in the film was done very quickly in only a few hours and I feel still turned out well.”

With nary a moment wasted and an appealing cast, unique monster and beautiful on-location filming, “Giant from the Unknown” is one of my favorite monster movies of the 1950s. I thank Nathanael for inviting me to participate in this blogathon.

Thanks to Jim Doherty in providing me with background information on the film, and for providing me with copies of the Gary Crutcher and Sally Fraser interviews from Scary Monsters Magazine. Additional information on the film came from Tom Weaver’s notes on the DVD edition.

No fan of 1950s monster movies can afford to miss any of the fine reading offered over the next week. I invite everyone to check out all the blogs. A complete list of dates and titles can be found at http://www.forgottenclassicsofyesteryear.blogspot.com/.

Linda Christian RIP, The Very, Very End of Harry Potter, A Giant Preview

2011-07-25T13:58:00.000-07:00

Linda Christian RIP

I normally don’t write appreciations when someone of note dies. There are many more writers far more eloquent than I who can pen a noteworthy appreciation.

But I had to write something upon hearing of the death of Linda Christian at the age of 87 following a fight with colon cancer. Not a well known name, and perhaps best known as Tyrone Power’s second wife, Linda is also remembered as the first Bond Girl thanks to her role in the 1954 television adaptation of “Casino Royale” on “Climax!” with Barry Nelson as James Bond.

She’s also most appealing in her role as the kidnapped Mara in “Tarzan and the Mermaids” (1948), Johnny Weissmuller’s swan song as the Ape Man

But I always had a soft spot in my heart for Linda Christian, because she was so nice to my dad one evening.

Like so many young men of his generation, my dad joined the service upon his graduation from high school during the height of World War II. In my dad’s case that was 1944 when he joined the navy.

During a West Coast shore leave one night my dad went to the famed Hollywood Canteen. Unlike the famous Warner Bros. movie of the same name from 1944, there were no big stars on hand that night. My dad remembered there were several big bands playing that night but he could not remember who they were, which is odd because his memory for such details was generally pretty acute.

But he did remember being served coffee and donuts and having a nice conversation with an exceptionally pretty hostess at the Canteen. He always remembered how pleasant the conversation was and how welcoming she was to him.

My dad loved musicals and saw all of them. After the war he was sitting in the theater watching M-G-M’s “Holiday in Mexico” (1946) when he saw on screen in a small role the girl who waited on him at the Hollywood Canteen. It was Linda Christian. Later of course, she gained worldwide fame as Mrs. Tyrone Power.

I always hoped Linda Christian would make an appearance at a nostalgia convention in the Chicago area so I could tell her my dad’s memories of her and how he remembered how nice she was to him that night. It meant the world to him. It’s funny the impressions we can make on people when we’re not even aware of it.

I’m (Almost) Wild About Harry

I saw the final Harry Potter movie over the weekend and really enjoyed it, though I must admit to a bit of a let down. I wanted to walk out exhilarated with a capital “E” and instead walked out exhilarated with a small “e.”, mainly because of the film’s final, final scene.

Don’t worry, no spoilers are necessary. I’m not talking about the final scene anyway. But what happens afterwards.

The film’s final scene occurs backed by composer Alexandre Desplat’s treatment of John Williams’s original themes, which are given a really glorious, full-blooded orchestral treatment. The image then fades while the music still plays for another 10 seconds or so against a blank screen. That’s it. Very disappointed.

Here we are after 10 years and eight films and the saga ends with a blank screen? A blank screen? A nice end title card with “The End” in that famous Harry Potter font would be nice. Or even if the film ended on the final image would have been fine. But to have the music carry over from the final scene for 10-15 seconds on a blank screen just rubbed me the wrong way. Not enough to ruin the film, mind you, but it sure didn’t end with a bang. More like a blank screen whimper.

Maybe it really isn’t the end, and J.K. Rowling has more Harry Potter stories in mind. Maybe director David Yates wanted the blank screen so people could project their own feelings about the end of this series? But it seemed to me that this series of movies is so special that more was warranted than a blank screen. Just my two cents.

The Giant is Coming

I was very pleased to be asked by Nathanael Hood of Forgotten Classics of Yesterday to participate in his 50s Monster Mash blogathon running July 28-August 2. My contribution is Richard Cunha’s “Giant from the Unknown” (1958) about a giant resurrected Spanish conquistador. There’s a lot of fun to be had in this $55,000, 10-day quickie. My post will appear on July 28.

Stars and Stripes Forever

2011-07-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

After watching a spectacular fireworks display at the local park, and still experiencing a patriotic high, it seemed appropriate to pull out my VHS copy of “Stars and Stripes Forever” (1952), Twentieth Century Fox’s Technicolor tribute to march composer John Philip Sousa. There’s only the modicum of a plot, but the performances are so likeable and the music is so great, that I forgave the lack of story and dramatic incident.

Admittedly, I don’t know too much about the real life of Sousa, but if there’s no real drama regarding his life, then I’m fine with not making up conflict and letting us instead enjoy the music and period trappings.

Clifton Webb stars as John Philip Sousa and he’s great as always. I can watch him in anything. We usually think of Webb as the caustic, snobbish type, but he can also be remarkably subtle and moving.

A few weeks ago I watched, and thoroughly enjoyed, “Titanic” (1953) where he and Barbara Stanwyck most believably play a long-time married couple watching their marriage unraveling and his betrayal that their son is not Webb’s. The scenes with Webb and son on the sinking deck (hardly giving anything away here, folks) are very moving. Webb accomplishes so much with so little.

In “Stars and Stripes Forever” Webb enjoys wedded bliss with his wife (Ruth Hussey) and three children. Perhaps there’s not enough Sousa and too much footage given over to a romance between sousaphone inventor Willie Little (Robert Wagner) and dancer Lilly Becker (Debra Paget), but they are both so beguiling and charming in this that I didn’t care. In fact, it may be the most likable performance from Wagner I’ve ever seen. He’s almost like a stalker in his attempts to play under Sousa, but he’s so upfront about it and so eager to be in the presence of the great man that I rooted for him the entire time.

(I do know enough about Sousa’s life that he himself invented the sousaphone and not some guy named Willie Little. But then how else is Willie going to ingratiate himself with Sousa than by telling him about his invention of the sousaphone? It’s a great scene and Webb’s befuddlement is a joy to behold.)

There’s also a very amusing scene where Sousa is leading the United States Marine Band at a White House function hosted by the 23rd president, Benjamin Harrison.

The receiving line is taking too long and a presidential aide asks Sousa to play something livelier to move the line along. Sousa plays his famous march “Semper Fidelis” and President Harrison is pleased that the music’s quick tempo makes those in the receiving line move much faster. (They should play that march at the receiving lines at some wedding receptions I’ve been to.)

I’ve always had an interest in U.S. presidents and can’t recall another film where Harrison was portrayed. If anyone knows of any other films featuring Benjamin Harrison, I’d love to hear about it.

Arguably the best studio orchestra in the 1950s was the Twentieth Century Fox one and with Music Director Alfred Newman leading the orchestra you know that the famous Sousa marches are going to be given a first-rate treatment. Many of Sousa’s most famous marches are performed and they can get the blood flowing in a corpse.

For the Olympics buffs out there, the film’s orchestrations are provided by Leo Arnaud, whose own Olympic fanfare is as well-known as any Sousa march.

The Sousa band not only played his marches, but other compositions as well. We get robust performances of “Turkey in the Straw”, the “Light Cavalry Overture”, “Dixie” and a stupendous choral performance of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Fox choral director Ken Darby is responsible for the latter, and when Newman and Darby teamed up you knew one’s ears would be burning with pleasure for the length of the movie.

There’s a lot of musical talent here and if one of the film music labels ever released the tracks it would make a wonderful album of American music.

Speaking of musical talent, Debra Paget as showgirl Lily Becker has a terrific number called “When It’s Springtime in New York” and also dances to Sousa’s “Washington Post” march. She’s a wonderful dancer and it’s too bad she didn’t have the opportunity to do more musicals. I always wondered about that.

Fox was known for their musicals starring blondes like Alice Faye, Betty Grable, June Haver and Marilyn Monroe. Did Zanuck not want to top line a brunette in one of the studio’s musicals? I know musicals were slowly easing their way out in popularity in the 1950s, but I still would have loved to have seen Debra Paget in more musicals.

In addition to the music, the film benefits from the glorious Technicolor that Fox lavished on their musicals. Even in my slightly faded VHS copy of the film, the colors burst through.

Director of “Stars and Stripes Forever” is Henry Koster, a great favorite of mine. He directed many a movie I’m very fond and many of them are what some people might pejoratively call “nice movies.”

Not from me, though. There’s a lot of heart and humanity in Koster’s films but with the treacle held back. I think he’s incredibly underrated and anyone who schedules a Henry Koster Film Festival would earn the happy gratitude of the attending audience.

I wrote about Koster before in my look at “The Robe” (1953) – I know, shoot me, but I love it. One can’t go wrong with any of these titles: two Deanna Durbin films “First Love” (1939) and “Spring Parade” (1940); “The Bishop’s Wife” (1947); “Come to the Stable” (1949); “Harvey” (1950); and “A Man Called Peter” (1955). There’s many others in his neglected filmography.

If memory serves, “Stars and Stripes Forever” was due to be released on DVD about five years ago, but it never happened. Since “The Egyptian” (1954) was announced for release at about the same time, and it’s finally coming out this month on DVD on the specialty Twilight Time label, I’m hoping that we will soon see “Stars and Stripes Forever” on DVD. It’s a movie to be enjoyed over and over again, not just on the Fourth of July, but all year long.

Big Brown Eyes

2011-06-20T13:57:00.000-07:00

I was jolted by a scene of violence in “Big Brown Eyes” (1936). What starts out as a cute if somewhat formulaic comedy starring a sparring Cary Grant and Joan Bennett turns sour and casts a pall over the remainder of its 76-minute running time, a pall the film never quite recovers from.

Gangster/Jewel Thief Lloyd Nolan is having a discussion with fellow jewel robbers on a park bench when an argument erupts between the two parties. Two gangsters knock Nolan down and he responds by drawing a gun and firing at their fleeing selves. He misses but instead hits a baby carriage and kills the infant.

What was director and co-writer Raoul Walsh thinking?

Killing an infant seems unusually harsh to get a plot point across. Why make the victim an infant? I’m not trying to be facetious, but couldn’t an adult passerby have been killed instead?

Later on for a second or two, its fun seeing the nattily-dressed Nolan in court, casually trimming his fingernails and without a care in the world. Thanks to a fix he knows he’s going to be acquitted. But then we see the grieving mother, dressed in black, silently weeping and when the not guilty verdict is read she can barely stand and has to be helped out of the courtroom.

It just sucks all the joy out of the movie.

Cary Grant plays Detective Sergeant Danny Barr, who’s trying to crack a ring of jewel thieves. When not detecting, he’s getting a haircut and manicure at a gloriously Art Deco barber shop that reminds me of one featured in the wonderful Carole Lombard/Fred MacMurray film “Hands Across the Table” (1935).

Since both films come from Paramount, it would not surprise me if the same barber shop set was used. (While the film is a Walter Wanger production, if Wanger had a distribution arrangement with Paramount, its possible Paramount let him use some of their existing sets.)

Everyone seems to hang out in the barber shop, including members of the jewel thief ring, including Benny Battle (Douglas Fowley) and his seemingly respectable boss Richard Morey (Walter Pidgeon).

Danny and manicurist Eve Fallon (Joan Bennett) have an attraction for each other, but they seem to fight more than kiss. There’s one amusing scene where, with a door between them, Grant pretends to be romancing a woman in the hallway as Bennett listens in.

Benny Battle is attracted to Eve’s friend Bessie Blair (Isabell Jewell). (Alliteration will do that.) They meet in the park just before the shooting, so Bessie is able to I.D. Benny.

He won’t confess though, so (only in the movies) former manicurist turned crime beat reporter Eve concocts, very cleverly, a means to make Benny confess to the police and finger Lloyd Nolan.

In this movie, Cary Grant still isn’t THE Cary Grant, so he’s still in his learning stage. He does OK, I guess, but the seemingly effortless charm would come later. Still, he and Bennett work well together, though I enjoy more the other film they made together the same year, “The Wedding Present.”

Later in the movie, one of the gangsters who intimidates Bessie looks like a very young Morris Ankrum. IMDB does not list him as being in the cast, but it sure does look like him. You may not know the name, but you would surely recognize the face. Ankrum played generals in a slew of 1950s science fiction movies and played the judge in many a Perry Mason episode.

“Big Brown Eyes” is a trifle, and no more. The baby killing scene is very unpleasant and unfortunately it’s probably the most memorable thing in the movie. Not a very auspicious quality to be remembered for.

“Big Brown Eyes” is part of a very affordably-priced DVD collection titled “Cary Grant Screen Legend Collection). Other titles include “Thirty Day Princess” (1934) co-starring Sylvia Sidney”; “Kiss and Make Up” (1934) with Genevieve Tobin; “Wings in the Dark” (1935), an early pairing with Myrna Loy; and the aforementioned “Wedding Present.”

I haven’t seen most of these so I’m looking forward to watching the rest of these. It’s always interesting to see early appearances by future stars. These titles may not be essential Cary Grant, but as a bedrock to a great career, these efforts can’t be denied.

Gene Hackman Is The Man

2011-06-07T12:43:00.000-07:00

Gene Hackman has always been one of my favorite actors, but I never knew he had such good taste until I read an interview with him in this week's (June 13, 2011) issue of Time.

Time: I read that you don't even know where your two Oscars are. Can this be true?

Hackman: It is true. I have a poster of Errol Flynn, but other than that, around the house we just kind of keep it civilian.

My estimation of Gene Hackman has always been huge, but now that estimation has increased a thousandfold. Well done, sir, well done.

A Lady Takes a Chance

2011-05-26T08:27:00.001-07:00

The appeal of movie star chemistry is winningly apparent in RKO's “A Lady Takes a Chance” (1943), which teams Jean Arthur and John Wayne in a romantic comedy. The two stars shouldn’t mesh together as well as they do here, but they do. While it won’t make anyone forget Arthur’s other 1943 film, the classic “The More the Merrier”, it’s still a most pleasant 86 minutes. Thanks to its situations and relaxed charm, it reminds me a lot of “It Happened One Night” (1934), and that’s not a bad thing at all.

“The More the Merrier” gave us a look at the housing shortage in wartime Washington D.C. “A Lady Takes a Chance” sidesteps the war issue entirely by setting the story in 1938. That way, contemporary audiences wouldn’t wonder why all these strapping cowboys on display aren’t in uniform.

We are first introduced to Molly Truesdale (Jean Arthur) as she boards a bus. Saying goodbye to her are three suitors played by Grady Sutton (any movie is better with Grady Sutton in it), Grant Withers and, I believe, Hans Conreid. They each ply Molly with going away presents to the bemusement of her fellow passengers, especially one wide-eyed seatmate Flossie Bendix (Mary Field).

The genuinely curious Flossie asks Molly why she’s going away. One gets the impression Flossie doesn’t go on a lot of dates.

It turns out Molly is taking a vacation out west, and, I suspect, to get away from her admirers.

Boarding the bus is the driver, Phil Silvers. He may the most obnoxious bus drivers in movie history and its little wonder why Molly stays behind one night and misses the bus. (I suspect Molly subconsciously stayed behind so she wouldn’t have to put up with Phil for a 14-day bus ride).

Earlier in the evening, while attending a rodeo, a cowboy is thrown off his bucking bronco and lands on Molly. It’s love at first sight for Molly who gazes longingly at the man on top of her, Duke Hudkins (John Wayne, as if you couldn’t guess).

Molly stares longingly at Duke. After the quality of her three suitors, one can’t blame her. Duke likes the ladies though and thinks she’s just another easy mark. He’s quite unprepared for the depth of feelings she has for him and her hurt is palpable when she thinks they’re going to have an evening alone together but they’re interrupted by a steady stream of old girlfriends who he invites to sit at their table.

Has anyone ever done wistfulness better than Jean Arthur? The way her voice cracks with disappointment would melt butter, but Duke doesn’t seem to notice her infatuation with him at first. To him, he’s a man, she’s a woman, they have some time on their hands, so why shouldn’t he allow her to use his hotel room but not before telling the hotel waiter to send up a bottle and two glasses.

No getting drunk for Molly and she leaves in a huff. Duke is bewildered, even more so when she refuses his offer of a ride to the next town where she can catch up with her bus. There are several amusing scenes where Molly hitchhikes her way to the town, even showing off her legs a la Claudette Colbert. But her rides only take her part of the way and Duke and his pal Waco (Charles Winninger, and it’s a pleasure to see him in a role where he’s not bemoaning the decline of vaudeville) see her standing at different points along the route.

Eventually she hops in and after some drama involving Duke’s prize horse coming down with pneumonia because Molly took the blanket off of him for herself to stay warm during a campout, you know they’re going to wind up together.

It’s fun to see Wayne in a role like this. One doesn’t think of him as a romantic leading man, but watch him and see how he’s rarely condescending to his female co-stars. He usually treats them as equals and there’s usually a great deal of warmth there tinged with a bit of vulnerability. Here you can see his Duke character warming towards Molly as the film progresses.

I don’t know how Arthur and Wayne got on together during the making of this, but they play exceptionally well together. It’s a pity they didn’t do more films together.

Director of “A Lady Takes a Chance” is William A. Seiter, a great favorite of mine. He has an invisible kind of style that suits material like this. So many of his films are never forced or contrived. Among his other credits are another title with Jean Arthur, the delightful “If You Could Only Cook” (1935); the Astaire-Rogers musical “Roberta” (1935); one of Deanna Durbin’s very best movies “Nice Girl?” (1941); the sublime “You Were Never Lovelier” (1942) with Rita Hayworth and some dancer guy; and my favorite Laurel and Hardy feature “Sons of the Desert” (1933).

The latter is one of the most perfectly constructed comedies ever made, running like clockwork and never missing a beat. A lot of Seiter’s movies are like that, and while I don’t know that much about his off-camera life, I do know that if his name is in the credits, the movie is worth watching. Like “A Lady Takes a Chance.”

CMBA Movies of 1939 Blogathon: The Rains Came

2011-05-17T07:31:00.000-07:00

One would assume that “The Wizard of Oz” or “Gone with the Wind” took the 1939 Academy Award for Best Special Effects. But no, the winner was “The Rains Came”, a stirring drama from 20th Century Fox that mixes disaster, romance and colonialism in a most entertaining and exotic blend.

Though it stars Fox’s top male attraction, Tyrone Power, it hardly seems like a Fox production. Leading lady is Myrna Loy, on loan from M-G-M. Also on loan from M-G-M is director Clarence Brown. And George Brent too, shows up on loan from Warner Bros. More on him later.

This is one movie that really lives up to the title. The rains come. Boy, do they come. They even show up in the background of the opening credits to wonderful effect, with the credits disintegrating as if from a massive rainstorm.

Author Louis Bromfield’s “The Rains Came” topped the 1937 best seller lists for weeks and screen rights were grabbed by Fox. The rains refer to the monsoons that torment India every year.

The movie takes place in 1938 in the fictional Indian province of Ranchipur, when India was still under control of The Raj.

Tom Ransome (George Brent) is the film’s most interesting character, a somewhat dissolute painter who came to Ranchipur years ago and stayed, finding an uneasy peace with himself in Ranchipur. While he doesn’t like them, he does associate with Ranchipur’s (English) society. Ransome is invited to attend a dinner honoring the visiting Lord Esketh (Nigel Bruce) and his wife Lady Edwina Esketh (Myrna Loy). Edwina and Tom are former lovers. Edwina has had many lovers, so many that Lord Esketh keeps a running tally of them in a notebook.

For those who think Nigel Bruce parlayed his Dr. Watson character in every film regardless of genre, they are in for a revelation here. His Lord Esketh is an angry, bigoted man with a mean streak a mile wide. He’s excellent and one regrets he didn’t play more roles like this in his career.

Loy is also exceptionally good here in one of her best roles. Beautifully photographed by Arthur Miller (I think Loy rarely looked so beautiful as she does here), Edwina is, I think, a basically good person who can’t resist succumbing to her base instincts in an effort to stave off boredom and a stifling marriage to a man she despises.

She begins an affair with Major Rama Safti (Tyrone Power), the local doctor and a great favorite of the ruling Maharani (Maria Ouspenskaya) and the Maharajah (H.B. Warner), Major Safti is being groomed to take over the ruling of Ranchipur when the childless couple dies. Edwina is immediately attracted to this “pale Copper Apollo” and begins a scandalous affair with him. The romance threatens Rama’s position in Ranchipur.

Their affair is contrasted with that of Tom Ransome, who finds unexpected romance with young, hero-worshipping Fern Simon (18-year-old Brenda Joyce, in her film debut, channeling Lana Turner, who had tested for the part).

Amidst all this romance is criticism of The Raj, which was unusual for a film made during this period. Films like “Lives of a Bengal Lancer” (1935) and “Gunga Din” (1939) extolled the virtues of British rule, so its interesting to see the critical portrayal of the English here.

In a telling exchange of dialogue, one English woman says with the monsoon season coming, everyone leaves Ranchipur.

Ransome wryly counters, “Five million people stay behind.”

The woman, barely bats and eye and says, “The right kind of people I mean.”

It’s no wonder Ransome prefers the company of local missionaries Phoebe and Homer Smiley (Jane Darwell and Henry Travers).

Politics and romance is interrupted, alas, by natural calamities, and its here that “The Rains Came” earned its well-deserved Oscar. Not only is Ranchipur inundated by the monsoons, but a massive earthquake also hits the province. The waters have risen so much that the dam, damaged in the earthquake, breaks apart from the pressure and floods the province, killing thousands and rendering the area almost uninhabitable.

An outbreak of cholera leaves Major Safti and his loyal and love struck nurse Miss MacDaid (Mary Nash) desperately trying to quell the disease before any more deaths occur. Even former lady of leisure Edwina takes a job at the hospital scrubbing floors.

All the performances are good, but I think George Brent really shines as Tom Ransome. It may be his best performance. Not only is he playing an interesting character, but it’s almost as if he’s gleefully saying, “Let me show Warner Bros. what I’ve really got.”

The New York Times was not complimentary to Tyrone Power, saying, “Tyrone Power’s Major Safti suggests none of the intellectual austerity, the strength of character and wisdom of Mr. Bromfield’s ‘Copper Apollo.’ He is still Mr. Power – young, impetuous and charming, with all the depth of a coat of skin-dye.” Ouch.

As I noted earlier, the film won Best Special Effects Oscar and was the first official winner of that award. The year before, “Spawn of the North” won a special award for “outstanding achievement in creating special photographic and sound effects.”

For the record, the other nominees in the Best Special Effects category that year were: “Gone with the Wind”; “Only Angels Have Wings”; “The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex”; “Topper Takes a Trip”; “Union Pacific” and “The Wizard of Oz.”

The films Special Effects Oscar was the film’s only Academy Award, though it was also nominated in the Best Art Direction; Best Cinematography (Black and White); Best Film Editing: Best Original Score; and Best Sound Recording categories.

Fox would remake “The Rains Came” in 1955 in Cinemascope and DeLuxe Color as “The Rains of Ranchipur.” Filling in for Tyrone Power, Myrna Loy, George Brent and Brenda Joyce, were, respectively, Richard Burton, Lana Turner, Fred MacMurray and Joan Caulfield. It is not as well remembered, or well regarded, as the original, though the Hugo Friedhofer score for the remake is superb.

I’m proud to be a part of the Classic Movie Bloggers Association-sponsored blogathon looking at the miracle movie year of 1939. I urge readers to investigate these other blogs. There’s lots of insightful reading ahead. My sincere thanks to Rebecca of ClassicBecky’s Brain Food and Page at My Love of Old Hollywood for hosting the three-day event.

Sunday, May 15
It’s A Wonderful World
http://www.doriantb.blogspot.com/
The Women
http://www.myloveofoldhollywood.blogspot.com/
The Wizard of Oz
http://www.vivandlarry.com/
Another Thin Man
http://www.reelrevival.blogspot.com/
The Cat and the Canary
http://www.twentyfourframes.wordpress.com/
Charlie Chan at Treasure Island
http://www.thrillingdaysofyesteryear.blogspot.com/
Dark Victory
http://www.amateurfilmstudies.blogspot.com/
Destry Rides Again
http://1001moviesblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/destry-rides-again-1939-12.html
Dodge City
http://www.poohtiger-allgoodthings.blogspot.com/
Five Came Back
http://www.caftanwoman.blogspot.com/
Gone With the Wind
http://www.silverscreenmodiste.com/
The Return of Dr. X
http://www.grandoldmovies.wordpress.com/

Monday, May 16, 2011

On Your Toes
http://www.classicbeckybrainfood.blogspot.com/ The Gorilla
http://www.myloveofoldhollywood.blogspot.com/
Q Planes
http://www.vivandlarry.com/
Stagecoach
http://www.themovieprojector.blogspot.com/
Gulliver’s Travels
http://www.distant-voicesandflickering-shadows.blogspot.com/
Hunchback of Notre Dame
http://www.via-51.blogspot.com/
Idiot’s Delight
http://www.dearmrgable.com/
Golden Boy
http://trueclassics.wordpress.com/
Intermezzo
http://www.distant-voicesandflickering-shadows.blogspot.com/
The Light That Failed
http://www.classic-film-tv.blogspot.com/
Love Affair
http://www.flickchick1953.blogspot.com/
Made for Each Other
http://www.carole-and-co.livejournal.com/
The Starmaker
http://www.bingfan03.blogspot.com/
Only Angels Have Wings
http://www.anotheroldmovieblog.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Lone Wolf Spy Hunt
http://www.warren-william.com/ Magalordhttp://www.forgottenclassicsofyesteryear.blogspot.com/ Ice Follies of 1939 http://www.myloveofoldhollywood.blogspot.com/Midnight http://www.dawnschickflicks.blogspot.com/
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
http://www.classicfilmboy.blogspot.com/
Never Say Die
http://www.javabeanrush.blogspot.com/
Of Mice and Men
http://www.greatentertainersarchives.blogspot.com/
The Old Maid
http://www.macguffinmovies.wordpress.com/
Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex
http://www.eves-reel-life.blogspot.com/
The Rules of the Game
http://www.garbolaughs.wordpress.com/
We are Not Alone
http://www.moirasthread.blogspot.com/
The Whole Family Workshttp://www.forgottenclassicsofyesteryear.blogspot.com/ Wuthering Heights http://www.bettesmovieblog.blogspot.com/
Watching A Year – All the Films Of 1939
http://www.jnpickens.wordpress.com/

Demetrius and the Gladiators

2011-04-26T11:57:00.001-07:00

This year’s Easter viewing was “Demetrius and the Gladiators” (1954), a more than respectable sequel to “The Robe”, which had come out the year before.

It’s one of the better sequels, in fact, and offers more action and visual splendor than “The Robe.” Now, I’m a big fan of “The Robe”, but I won’t deny that’s it an exceedingly talky film, odd for a film that introduced the splendor of Cinemascope to audiences. As if to make up for the static quality of “The Robe,” the sequel is loaded with action.

“Demetrius and the Gladiators” opens with a recap of the last scene of “The Robe”, where Richard Burton and Jean Simmons are ordered to their deaths by Roman Emperor Caligula. Jean Simmons gives The Robe (the cloth Jesus was wearing when he was crucified) to an onlooker, saying, “For the Big Fisherman.”

Big Fisherman is Peter (Michael Rennie), who returns in this movie. So does Demetrius (Victor Mature), the freed Greek slave who witnessed the crucifixion and is one of Christianity’s first converts, and Caligula (Jay Robinson, even nuttier than in the first film).

Caligula thinks The Robe has magic powers, and has sent spies to look for it and bring it to him. He also becomes convinced he’s a god.

New characters include Caligula’s uncle Claudius (a non-stuttering Barry Jones), Claudius’ wife, the scheming temptress Messalina (Susan Hayward), and Lucia (Debra Paget), a young Christian woman who is in love with Demetrius.

All I can say is if more Christians looked like Debra Paget, the religion would have spread a lot faster than it did. (That will likely add some time in Purgatory for me, but I couldn’t help think it while watching the movie. But then I’ve always had a thing for Debra Paget.)

Demetrius undergoes a crisis of faith when he mistakenly believes Lucia is killed by mauling gladiator Richard Egan. Demetrius becomes not only a champion gladiator, killing his foes left and right in the arena, but the latest lover of Messalina, all before Peter again brings him back to the fold to spread the word of Christianity throughout the Roman Empire.

The production is handsome to look at and there’s all sorts of familiar faces on hand to keep us entertained. One year before winning a Best Actor Oscar for “Marty”, Ernest Borgnine wields the whip as Strabo, the head of the gladiator school. Fox contract players Richard Egan and Anne Bancroft are on hand for a couple of scenes. Future Catwoman Julie Newmar is easily identifiable as a dancer.

A pre-“Blacula” William Marshall is very impressive as Glycon, a king in his own country who is forced into the gladiator ring. Marshall had one of the greatest speaking voices ever and it’s just a pleasure to listen to him.

Censorship requirements of the time meant the fight scenes in the arena weren’t particularly bloody, but I would imagine audiences were still pretty impressed, and considered these scenes something of a novelty. We know them now thanks to “Spartacus” (1960), “Gladiator” (2000) and countless Italian-made spectacles of the 1960s.

But up to then, I don’t think audiences saw a lot of gladiator action. “Quo Vadis” (1951) had arena scenes, but they were mainly limited to Christians being fed to the lions. DeMille’s “The Sign of the Cross” (1932) boasts some of the most salacious and violent arena scenes ever filmed, but when the film was re-issued in the 1940s it was minus many of those scenes.

RKO’s “The Last Days of Pompeii” (1935) had Preston Foster as blacksmith turned gladiator in several exciting scenes, and because the film was constantly re-issued, usually on a double bill with “King Kong” (1933) or “She” (1935), its likely audiences got their gladiator thrills from it.

But “Demetrius and the Gladiators” gave audiences gladiator thrills in color and wide screen. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how small-scaled the arena was. It doesn’t look that big, and its audience seems to be Roman senators, Caligula’s court and members of the Praetorian Guard. I wonder if it was more of a personal arena for the Roman court, rather than one for the populace. Still, the combat sequences are very well done, and by golly, there’s real tigers taunting Demetrius in the arena, unlike those in “Gladiator” where they are obviously CGI.

(Aside: I think “Gladiator” is the worst Best Picture Oscar winners ever. “Cimarron” (1931) or “The Greatest Show on Earth” (1952) usually get the nod, but I’ll take either of those any day over Ridley Scott’s snooze fest, not only dramatically inert, but ugly and cheap looking to boot. End of aside).

The cast is all fine. Susan Hayward looks like she’s having a ball as Messalina, twisting the men in her life around her little finger, scheming and (unknowingly) letting them do all the dirty work for her. She’s a pleasure to watch.

I like Victor Mature as Demetrius, though I think he’s better in “The Robe.” I think he gives the best performance in “The Robe”, even better than Jean Simmons and Best Actor nominee Richard Burton. He’s very sincere in that role and brings a working man’s honesty to the film that helps ground it.

He’s not so subtle in the sequel, but he gives it his all and he’s always fun to watch. He never took himself seriously, but he should have, as he never gave a bad performance, and was, from what I’ve read about him, a pretty good guy off camera.

In the 1950s, my mom worked for a man who served on a submarine with Mature during World War II. He said Mature had no airs or pretensions about him. He thought Mature was one of the greatest guys he ever knew.

We have a family friend who is a huge movie buff and has been collecting autographs for decades. He would obtain the star’s address and send him or her a photo with a stamped, self-addressed envelope, so all the person would have to do is read the letter, sign the picture and return it in the envelope at no expense.

Occasionally, he would not get a response but usually the picture would be returned signed, sometimes with a nice note. He did this with Victor Mature and waited and waited but never got a response.

About a year later an envelope arrived in the mail. Inside was an autographed picture with this inscription: “Dick, Sorry about the delay. Had a fire. Best wishes, Vic Mature.”

Now THAT’s an autograph.

Director of Demetrius was Delmer Daves, who is a great favorite of mine, and who rarely made a film I didn’t like. Even when some are clunkers, like “Parrish” (1961) or “Youngblood Hawk” (1964) they are always watchable.

In “Demetrius and the Gladiators” he and screen writer Philip Dunne nicely balance all of the films themes and situations: violence and piety, court intrigue and torrid romance scenes.

No mention of the film can’t be made without mentioning Franz Waxman’s majestic score. He incorporated themes from Alfred Newman’s score for “The Robe” because he thought so highly of it. Waxman actually resigned from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences when the Music Branch neglected to honor Newman’s score for “The Robe” with a Best Score nomination. (If he thought the Academy was tin-eared then, what would he make of today’s scoring nominees? He would probably flee the country.)

One last thing, and I don’t think I’m giving anything away here with the ending. The Christians have been promised protection by new emperor Claudius as long as they don’t ferment any discord. The film concludes with Peter, Demetrius and new convert Glycon walking through the Roman palace, backed by Waxman’s truly gorgeous choral finale. But Glycon is holding The Robe, and I’ve always thought it interesting that the black character holds The Robe, rather than Peter or Demetrius. A pretty bold statement in that pre-Civil Rights era.

Two "Modest" Suggestions for Next Year's Oscars

2011-04-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

It’s been almost two months since the Academy Awards fiasco, generally considered one of the worst Oscar shows ever, if not the worst.

It’s not too early to be thinking about next year’s show, and here are two “modest” ideas that are probably wishful thinking, and the logistics would be enormous, but would, I think guarantee huge ratings and interest. Plus, the timing is ideal for both.

I know the Academy has put the kibosh on having special tributes during the broadcast. But that rule isn’t set in stone and can easily be amended.

Guaranteed Audience Viewershp #1:

2012 will see the 50th anniversary of James Bond. I can’t think of any screen series that has lasted as long as this one, one where a new entry is greeted with as many headlines and maximum box office returns as entries were from 50 years ago.

How cool would it be to have all the 007 actors in person on the same stage. I don’t know if that’s feasible, or if everyone would agree to participate, but don’t you think half the world would tune in to see Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig all together on a stage, in front of a worldwide audience, to take their well-deserved bows to the accompaniment of the landmark James Bond theme?

How nice it would be for the Academy to honor this series, not only for its longevity and entertainment value, but let’s face it, the enormous amounts of money it has returned to the industry.

Heck, even introduce a parade of Bond Girls, villains and henchmen. Don’t be afraid of showmanship. The Academy is part of the entertainment industry, don’t shrug off showmanship. In fact, embrace it.

Include a nicely edited montage of 50 years of 007, complete with quips, memorable dialogue, amazing stunts, etc. It would be truly epic and something that would be talked about for years to come.

A 50th anniversary only comes around once, so the Academy should take advantage of it.

Guaranteed Audience Viewership Idea #2.

This one would be trickier to pull off, but again would be one for the ages and be talked about for years to come.

This summer will see the last Harry Potter film in release. No matter what the film ends up being, there’s no denying that the series is unique in keeping (almost) the whole cast intact over a period lasting 10 years and eight films.

Such excellence should be acknowledged. I’m hardly the first one to say it, but the Harry Potter films boast pretty much a Who’s Who of the British acting community. Did any film series ever contain so much talent? Not just actors appearing in cameos, but inhabiting full blooded, almost Dickens-like characters?

Regular cast members or those who had prominent roles in at least one of the films include, in no particular order: Robbie Coltrane, Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, Michael Gambon (replacing the late Richard Harris), Helena Bonham Carter, Ralph Fiennes, Brendan Gleeson, Richard Griffiths, Fiona Shaw, Jason Isaacs, Gary Oldman, Kenneth Branagh, Timothy Spall, David Thewlis, Emma Thompson, Julie Walters, Warwick Davis, John Cleese, Robert Pattinson and Imelda Staunton.

I’m sure I’m missing some people, but wow. And wow.

Wouldn’t a worldwide audience love to see all that talent in one place, acknowledging their part in one of the most ambitious, and successful, film series of all time? Again, showmanship should play a big role here. Have a short film clip lasting a couple of seconds of say Severus Snape and then have Alan Rickman walk on stage. Do this with everyone.

Watch the crowd go nuts and I guarantee people from around the world would tune in to see it. With filming schedules the way they are, I’m sure everyone couldn’t be there, but even if only half the Harry Potter cast were there, it would be one of the greatest gatherings of acting talents in one place ever.

And then bring out Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint to take their bows.

Showmanship people! Don’t be afraid of it. Embrace it. Celebrate in one evening two of the best franchises of all time. It would be talked about for years to come.

This year’s Oscars was lacking in star power. I wonder how many would stay away knowing these tributes were on hand. They would likely get down on their hands and knees and beg Oscar producers to be a part of that show.

Other improvements? Hire new writers and a host with show biz savvy. But we knew that already.

The Sniper

2011-03-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

The most gripping movie I’ve seen in a long time is Edward Dmytryk’s “The Sniper” (1952), equal parts thriller, police procedural and a shattering look at urban loneliness and despair. It holds up extremely well.

Eddie Miller (Arthur Franz) is a lost soul with a hangdog appearance, working days as a deliveryman for a laundry service. Having deep-seated issues in relating to women, Eddie is so starved for any kind of human companionship that in one scene he walks towards a group of kids playing baseball in the street. One can tell he’s eager to engage them in conversation; anything, even the tiniest bit of human connection would be sufficient for Eddie.

At night he looks out the window through his rifle telescope, imaging the people he is going to pick off with it. Eventually the fantasy becomes reality and he begins to kill people for real. Like a psychopathic killer in later crime dramas, he sends notes to the police, begging them to stop him before he kills again.

There’s a strong cast on hand here, including Adolphe Menjou (sans moustache) as the police Lt. Kafka who leads the investigation with the help of his sergeant (Gerald Mohr). Richard Kiley makes a strong impression as the psychiatrist who knows the sniper must be stopped, but hopes Eddie can be caught alive so he can be studied in the hopes of preventing future Eddie Millers.

The movie was produced by Stanley Kramer, and his well-known liberal bent is represented by the Richard Kiley character. Kramer produced quite a few really interesting and offbeat movies in the early 1950s, and this is one of the best. The ending may disappoint those looking for a bang bang finale, but the film is much better for the ending it has.

Shot on location in San Francisco, the movie is almost documentary-like in appearance. Shot by ace cinematographer Burnett Guffey with an emphasis on flat lighting, this is no slick, glossy Hollywood production but a lowdown and dirty crime drama. It reminds me of one of those great grim and gritty 1970s crime movies like “The French Connection” (1971) or “The Friends of Eddie Coyle” (1973).

The cast can’t be faulted. Arthur Franz is excellent, making the sniper curiously sympathetic - sympathetic and pitiable, but not likeable. Franz plays Eddie Miller as a character one lit match away from becoming a lighted powder keg. This probably Franz’s most nuanced performance. One can tell how much he wants to be part of something, anything, but that contact is always just out of reach.

Menjou is great as always, and it’s surprising to see the dapper actor (one of the best dressed men in Hollywood) looking decidedly un-dapper in his rumpled suits and uncombed hair.

Also, I couldn’t help but wonder what the set was like. Director Dmytryk was a former member of the Communist party and one of the Hollywood Ten who refused to name names for the Hollywood Un-American Activities Committee. He was jailed for several months before agreeing to talk. Menjou was an avowed right winger who took great delight in telling the Committee everything they wanted to know. Did Menjou greet Dmytryk as friend or enemy?

Semi-Spoiler Paragraph: In a preview of “Psycho” (1960), the sniper’s first victim is leading lady Marie Windsor who is killed about 20 minutes in. It’s a pretty graphic and shocking scene, as are all the other sniper killings. Unlike some of her other crime film appearances, Windsor is very likeable here, and I can imagine her early demise took a lot of viewers by surprise. But maybe not. I watched the trailer on the DVD and it shows her getting shot, thus proving that even in 1952, too much information was given away in the trailers. End spoiler.

For movie fans, there are a lot of familiar faces on hand. Charlie Chan’s Number Two Son Victor Sen Yung has an unbilled appearance as a waiter in a Chinese restaurant. Sidney Miller shows up as a hospital intern. I’m so used to seeing him in all those Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland musicals, that his appearance was a nice surprise.

There’s a black humor sequence where the police bring in all the perverts and sex fiends for a line-up, and the cop reading the charges can’t resist making snide comments on them to the delight of the cops in attendance. Show this scene to someone who thinks a 1952 Hollywood movie is all sweetness and light and wait for that opinion to change. The suspects in the line-up are a couple of well-known character actors who I’ve seen countless times but I don’t know their names.

Speaking of contemporary, there’s a dynamic score by Kramer’s favorite composer at the time, the controversial George Antheil, the so-called Bad Boy of American Music. Antheil’s contribution is invaluable, especially in one scene where the sniper waits to kill his next victim. We see her through her apartment window and the music is nothing more than a sustained chord, played for over 30 seconds with no variation. It’s standard practice now but very unusual for the time.

Antheil was smart enough to use this technique sparingly. Today, sustained chords are seemingly the entire score, to the extreme detriment of the material it is suppose to support. End of rant.

“The Sniper” is part of a gem of a DVD box set from Sony Home Entertainment called Film Noir Classics Vol. 1. Other titles include: Fritz Lang’s “The Big Heat” (1953); “5 Against the House” (1955); “Murder by Contract” (1958) and “The Lineup.” (1958). That’s enough mean city streets mayhem to satisfy anyone.

Firecreek

2011-03-22T12:27:00.000-07:00

In any discussion of Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon A Time in the West” (1969) there is mention how shocked audiences must have been to see Henry Fonda’s outlaw character gun down a family in cold blood.

But audiences who saw “Firecreek” the year before probably weren’t surprised at all. In “Firecreek” Fonda plays another outlaw who shoots an unarmed James Stewart in the street and lynches a man in a barn. But “Firecreek” is no “Once Upon A Time in the West.”

“Firecreek” was the first pairing of long-time friends James Stewart and Henry Fonda, not counting a short skit in “On Our Merry Way” (1948). It’s odd that it took long for the two American icons to be cast together and even odder that they were cast as adversaries here.

Firecreek is the name of the title town, one of the saddest western towns I’ve ever seen. It’s more a collection of shacks and fallen down buildings – I’m not sure you can even call them buildings. The town doesn’t have a regular sheriff but farmer Johnny Cobb (James Stewart) takes over lawman responsibilities when needed, for an additional $2 a month.

He’s needed when a gang of outlaws led by Larkin (Henry Fonda) ride into town and rest for bit while Larkin recovers from a bullet wound. His gang includes familiar faces like Jack Elam, James Best and Gary Lockwood. They take great interest in the town’s women, and for such a small town, the town of Firecreek is home to more than a few attractive ladies, including Inger Stevens, Barbara Luna and Brooke Bundy.

There’s a lot of discussion about what worth’s fighting for. Sheriff Cobb elects to stand up to the outlaws to the dismay of several of the townspeople. Dean Jagger is the most cynical of the neighbors, calling Firecreek’s inhabitants losers, and such an unattractive town that it only attracts losers and no one else. To his credit, Jagger’s character includes himself in the loser category.

But in the great western tradition of a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, a tentative Cobb straps on his guns and orders the Larkin gang out of town or else.

It’s all pretty cynical, and it makes for a long 104 minutes. Despite my love of the stars and the genre, I had never seen “Firecreek.” It didn’t get good reviews when it came out, with many critics saying it was just another western. Sometimes time has a way of making the once ordinary seem extraordinary today, but alas, for me, “Firecreek” reeks of the routine.

It’s not a total washout. The supporting cast is strong. In addition to the fine folk above, there’s also Ed Begley and Jay C. Flippen, who are always a pleasure to watch. Cinematography is by the great William Clothier who always makes his westerns look gritty while still highlighting the great natural beauty of the countryside.

I was fascinated by that town though. I had to rack my brains to think of a drearier western town than this one, and it came to me, and to my surprise it was another Henry Fonda film. Burt Kennedy’s “Welcome to Hard Times” (1967) offers one of the most depressing looking western towns in movie history, but it’s a much better film than “Firecreek.” Fonda made both a year apart, and I wonder what he thought, going from one decrepit western set to another?

Director is Vincent McEveety, best known for his work on various live action Disney films. There was nothing here that made me notice his contributions. It’s adequate, nothing more.

I guess that’s the word for “Firecreek” – adequate. It passes the time adequately enough, but nothing more. I don’t think I’ll be returning to this one too often.

Stewart and Fonda would fare together a little better with “The Cheyenne Social Club” (1970), a moderately entertaining western comedy where cowboy Stewart inherits a bordello.

The Razor's Edge (1946)

2011-03-09T08:36:00.000-08:00

Each time I see “The Razor’s Edge” I think its one of the most watchable moves ever made, a strong example of Hollywood craftsmanship and narrative filmmaking of the highest order.

The story of a man desperate to find inner peace and do good deeds for himself and others was a massive blockbuster when Twentieth Century Fox released “The Razor’s Edge” in 1946. It became the studio’s biggest hit up to that time, earning $5 million at the box office; very impressive when the average ticket price at the time was 34 cents.

Running time is 146 minutes and it flies by like a gazelle. I’ve seen half hour sitcoms that seem to run longer than “The Razor’s Edge.” It’s the type of epic story where we’re not waiting for the next special effects sequence, large scale action set piece, or natural disaster to occur. Instead, we’re presented with a vast array of fascinating characters and we watch how they react to the assorted situations and crises they become faced with. We witness how they rise to the occasion, or sink to the black pool of despair.

It’s a timeless story and one that holds surprising resonance even today. Yes, I’m familiar with the quite good 1984 remake starring Bill Murray and Theresa Russell, but that stayed a period piece. “The Razor’s Edge” could easily be updated with little effort. Substitute the Gulf War for World War I, the recent financial crisis for the Great Depression and you have half the story right there. Alcohol and drug abuse have always been with us, and contemporary audiences seemed to have no problem with Julia Roberts seeking spiritual satisfaction in India in “Eat, Pray Love” (2010).

Based on a hugely successful 1944 novel by W. Somerset Maugham, “The Razor’s Edge” opens with a beautiful credit sequence showing waves crashing on shore accompanied by Alfred Newman’s gloriously inspiring music. The waves seem to be symbolic of our protagonist Larry Darrell (Tyrone Power), a restless soul who returns to Chicago after seeing action in World War I. Greatly affected by the war, he’s not content to settle down to a never ending series of parties and social events with his fiancée, North Shore socialite Isabel Bradley (Gene Tierney). While Isabel relishes the high society life, Larry yearns for something deeper and more satisfying in life than material excess.

Leaving Isabel, Larry travels the world as a common man, eventually finding peace and spiritual satisfaction at a monastery in India. He leaves the monastery to do good for others.

Isabel and her husband Gray (John Payne) have seen their fortunes wiped out in the crash. They are forced to live in Paris with her uncle Elliott Templeton (Clifton Webb), a terrifically snobby yet appealing character who has something caustic to say about everyone but helps out his adored niece at the drop of a hat.

Isabel’s very likeable cousin Sophie (Anne Baxter) has turned to alcohol, drugs and prostitution after the deaths of her husband and young daughter in car accident.

Herbert Marshall plays the author W. Somerset Maugham. Like the book, Maugham appears throughout as our guide as he runs into these characters throughout the course of their lives, celebrating their triumphs and sympathizing during their tragedies. These characters experience both over the course of the movie.

There are several reasons that account for the film’s popularity. It was the first film for Fox’s biggest star, Tyrone Power, in almost three years. Power enlisted in the Marines in WWII and served with distinction in the Pacific Theater, flying in supplies to the troops. He was decorated on several occasions.

Like Clark Gable and James Stewart, Power returned to Hollywood a changed man. A little heavier in face and with eyes a little less bright, Power yearned to act in vehicles more substantial than the comedies and adventure movies he was making pre-war. Fox boss Darryl F. Zanuck waited until the right role came along for Power’s comeback vehicle. Zanuck likely looked at what M-G-M gave Gable for his comeback film, “Adventure” (1945), a turkey if there ever was one, and swore not to rush things for his top star.

Gregory Peck was originally announced for “The Razor’s Edge” but Zanuck must have realized how perfect Power would be in the part. There was always one film a year that Zanuck personally supervised and in 1946 it was “The Razor’s Edge.” I think Power is very good in the role, and he well understood the Larry Darrell character. Always striving to do good work, Power probably felt about many of his films the way Larry felt about attending the latest cocktail party.

1946 saw the most impressive movie theater attendance in history. According to Entertainment Weekly, more than 80 million people, or about 57 percent of all Americans, went to the movies every week. World War II was over and American’s fighting men and women were home to re-kindle romances or start up new ones. The most affordable date was the movies. (TV’s impact would not be felt at the box office for another year or two).

“The Razor’s Edge” struck a chord for those returning service men and women affected by the war. Horrified at what they witnessed during the war, they yearned for a better world, looking for spiritual peace and ways they can do good in the world. No wonder “The Razor’s Edge” was such a monster hit.

“The Razor’s Edge” earned a Best Picture nomination in 1946. It lost to “The Best Years of Our Lives”, another film that struck a massive chord with returning vets and their families. The other nominees that year were “It’s a Wonderful Life”, “Henry V” and “The Yearling.”

Anne Baxter’s tragic Sophie did earn her the Academy Award that year for Best Supporting Actress. Her competition was Ethel Barrymore in “The Spiral Staircase”, Lillian Gish in “Duel in the Sun”, Flora Robson in “Saratoga Trunk” and Gale Sondergaard in “Anna and the King of Siam.” I think the Academy chose wisely that year.

Clifton Webb plays his patented snob character, but the affection he shows for his family separates it from his more caustic performances. The Academy saw fit to honor Webb with a Supporting Actor nomination for his Uncle Elliott role, but he lost to Harold Russell in “The Best Years of Our Lives.” Webb has a terrific deathbed scene that likely earned him the nomination.

Harold Russell was already selected to receive an Honorary Oscar for his role, no doubt as consolation. After all, how could an amateur win the coveted award over Webb, Charles Coburn in “The Green Years”, William Demarest in “The Jolson Story” or Claude Rains in “Notorious”? Everyone was shocked when Russell was announced the winner, making Harold Russell the only performer to win two Oscars for a single role in one film. (And the first time that an actor won a Best Supporting Actor award for his first film.) If I was a member of the Academy, I would have picked Claude Rains that year, but that’s me.

Gene Tierney is also very good as Isabel. Always praised for her beauty more for her acting, she has nothing to be ashamed of her performance here. Her Isabel is very human, flaws and all. She can’t help it that she’s somewhat weak and used to a life of luxury and ease.

Guiding all these characters over the course of their lives is director Edmund Goulding, one of those Golden Age figures who doesn’t get much respect until you review his filmography and realize how many classic movies he directed. A short list includes such titles as “Grand Hotel” (1932),“The Dawn Patrol” (1938), “Dark Victory” (1939), “The Old Maid (1939), “The Constant Nymph (1943), and “Claudia” (1943).

His best film may be his follow-up film with Power, the amazing “Nightmare Alley” (1947). It’s probably Power’s best performance, and as a carny con man he plays a role as opposite from Larry Darrell as could be imagined. It didn’t make a dime, but is a cult favorite today and remains one of the great films of the 1940s.

The multi-talented Goulding was also a composer and one of his compositions was a song called “Mam’selle”, which is featured prominently in “The Razor’s Edge.” It became a great hit and was recorded by several artists, including Frank Sinatra.

We all look for peace in our lives and strive to do good and do no harm. Such truths never die and with its themes of selflessness, overcoming adversity, love and New Age mysticism, I have a feeling that “The Razor’s Edge” would play very well with contemporary audiences.

Never Take Candy From a Stranger

2011-03-02T14:40:00.001-08:00

It’s Hammer Time! England’s Hammer Studios is best known for their output of Gothic horror movies, involving Dracula, Dr. Frankenstein and various mummies, werewolves, zombies, and even a reptile woman.

But Hammer made all kinds of movies, and in 1959 they courageously made a film about the greatest monster of all, a child molester. Heady stuff for 1959 and heady material even today.

The film, “Never Take Sweets From a Stranger” (and released in the U.S. in 1960 as “Never Take Candy From a Stranger”) holds up exceptionally well. Unseen for years, this could be one of the most controversial entries in Hammer’s filmography. The film caused considerable angst when it was first released, but time has been very kind to it. It’s gripping viewing today and handles a very touchy subject in a non-exploitative manner. Fortunately, director Cyril Frankel doesn’t give us any scenes of abuse, instead giving us a remarkably frank and tasteful treatment of material that avoids the salacious.

The films opens with two young girls Jean (Janina Faye) and Lucille (Frances Green) playing on a swing. Someone is watching them from a house in the distance. Lucille says she knows where they can get some candy and off they go.

Jean is the daughter of the new small town school principal Peter Carter (Patrick Allen) and wife Sally (Gwen Watford), recently arrived to Canada from England. Jean innocently tells her parents about the house they visited where an old man gave them candy and then asked them to take their clothes off and dance for him.

Understandably upset, the parents learn said old man is Clarence Olderberry Sr. (Felix Aylmer). The Olderberrys are the town’s leading citizens, its founder and principal employer.

Their campaign to bring charges against the elder Olderberry is thwarted by the local police who prefer to turn a blind eye, and by other parents, who don’t want to rock the boat.

Even though the film was one of Hammer’s least commercially successful films, its subject matter naturally generated much controversy.

According to Hammer Films, An Exhaustive Filmography, by Tom Johnson and Deborah Del Vecchio (McFarland & Company, 1996), the film was endorsed by the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, who said, “The producers are to be congratulated on their objective presentation.”

The National League of Decency also supported the picture: “This is a perennial social problem treated with moral caution and without sensationalism.”

On the flip side the London Times said, “It must be condemned as a film that never should have been made.”

Films and Filming really took Hammer to task, writing, “A smart production veneer might fool people into thinking that here is a wholly adult film concerned with social and moral problems. It isn’t! In years to come, film historians will no doubt be able to logically explain the success of this company dealing only with the lurid and the loathsome.”

Despite its lack of vampires and other monsters, there are many familiar Hammer friends on hand. This was the first Hammer assignment for cinematographer Freddie Francis. Quite a coup for Hammer, as Francis would win his first Academy Award in 1960 for “Sons and Lovers.” Francis had ambitions to direct, which was quenched by both Hammer and rival studio Amicus in a remarkable series of horror films, including Hammer’s classic “Dracula Has Risen From the Grave” (1968), one of the most beautiful – yes, beautiful – horror movies ever made.

Little Janina Faye, so memorable as Tania in Hammer’s classic “Horror of Dracula” (1958) is very good as the bewildered Jean.

Gwen Watford is perhaps best known to Hammer fans as Geoffrey Keen’s oppressed wife in “Taste the Blood of Dracula” (1970) and her mother’s anguish on display here is one of the film’s strengths.

Patrick Allen makes a stalwart father figure, bewildered by a village that doesn’t seem to care there’s a monster living among them. He’s also good in Hammer’s mystery swashbuckler adventure film “Night Creatures” (1962). He only made two films for Hammer, but he went two for two for the studio.

Fans of Harryhausen’s “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963) will be amused to see Hermes (Michael Gwynn) and Zeus (Niall MacGinnis) fight it out here in the courtroom as opposing counsel.

And then there’s Felix Aylmer. When I think of Felix Aylmer I think of his Isaac of York in M-G-M’s wonderful “Ivanhoe” (1952) and as Peter Cushing’s archaeologist father in Hammer’s “The Mummy” (1959). But now I may have to add his Clarence Olderberry Sr. to the list. Aylmer doesn’t speak a word throughout, but it’s still a great performance. He’s borderline senile but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. Great body language on display here as Aylmer makes him pitiable and loathsome at the same time.

One scene involving Aylmer may be one of the most chilling in Hammer’s history. Towards the end of the movie, Jean and Lucille are riding their bikes in the woods when they spot a house. Naturally curious they go to explore when they see Olderberry coming towards them. Screaming they run away with Olderberry in pursuit. They spot a rowboat in the lake and get in it and begin rowing frantically to the middle of the lake. Unknown to them, the boat is still tied to the dock. Olderberg reaches down to the rope and slowly begins to pull the boat back towards the dock…..

It’s a chilling scene, and the film is as much an indictment of people’s indifference to what’s going on around them as it is Olderberry himself.

The film is a precursor to material that would be tackled on later in the decade and beyond. I wonder if the London Times and Films and Filming would later change their minds about the film?

In 1961, movie audiences were treated to “The Mark”, a really remarkable film starring Stuart Whitman as a convicted child molester who desperately tries to get cured with the help of psychiatrist Rod Steiger. Very rarely shown today, that’s a shame as it also treats its distasteful matter in an adult and non-sensationalistic manner. Stuart Whitman gives an Academy Award-caliber performance here. Any list of criminally underrated performances should include Whitman’s performance.

And any list of underrated films should include Hammer’s “Never Take Candy From a Stranger.” It may have lost money for the studio, but they have every right to be proud of this remarkable little film. Besides, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee were always around to pick up the slack for them.

“Never Take Candy From a Stranger” is the second of six films I’ve watched in the DVD collection titled “The Icons of Suspense Collection: Hammer Films.” Wonderful transfers of wonderful films. Four more to go and I can’t wait to watch them. Looking forward to Joseph Losey’s “These Are the Damned” (1961), one of the most remarkable science fiction films of the 1960s.

Blogathon: The Oscars - Best Actress 1963

2011-02-22T07:07:00.000-08:00

Shirley MacLaine received her third of five Best Actress Academy Award nominations for her role in “Irma La Douce” (1963). She plays the title character, a good-natured hooker whose specialty is – no, nothing sexual – coming up with sob stories to scam a little extra money from her clients. Stories like how she’s only a working girl in order to make money to help rebuild the orphanage that harbored her during the war. Out comes the extra money from her sympathetic johns.

Director Billy Wilder envisioned Marilyn Monroe in the role, but when she died Wilder offered the role to MacLaine. In retrospect, it seems a no-brainer since Wilder would be re-teaming MacLaine with Jack Lemmon from “The Apartment” (1960), and what made more sense than to have the female lead from that classic join them again. MacLaine accepted the role without reading the script because she was anxious to re-team with her Apartment buddies.

While she’s wonderful and fresh and in the movie, giving her character a pixie-like spirit and a case of mischief, I still think it may be the least of her five nominated performances. She’s fine in it but there’s nothing here she didn’t do before and better. However, the film was one of 1963’s biggest hits and I think that helped cement her nomination. For the record her other Best Actress nominations were “Some Came Running” (1958), “The Apartment” (1960), “The Turning Point” (1977) and “Terms of Endearment” (1983), for which she finally won the coveted gold statue. Her Irma lost to Patricia Neal in “Hud” that year.

Despite Irma’s name being in the title, the movie really belongs to Jack Lemmon, in another gem of a comedic performance. He plays a very naïve police rookie named Nestor Patou who calls for a raid on the neighborhood bordello. One of the bordello’s customers happens to be an enraged chief of police (Herschel Bernardi) who fires Nestor.

Nestor had previously met Irma at a bar and they fall in love with each other. Upon learning her profession, and now determined to keep her off the streets, he becomes an eccentric English nobleman, Lord X, who promises to visit her twice a week and give her 500 francs for each visit on the condition he becomes her only customer.

Lord X is a dandy dresser and sports a white eye patch. Speaking in an exaggerated accent, Lord X loves to brag about his war exploits, which seem to come mainly from watching movies. Let’s see, Lord X tells Irma he exploded some big guns on the island of Navarone, helped sink the Bismarck and hurt himself when the exploding bridge on the River Kwai fell on top of him.

A later meeting with Irma also reveals he rode with Lawrence, participated in the Charge of the Light Brigade, knew Gunga Din, was a Bengal Lancer and even sailed to Tahiti with Captain Bligh!

Nestor has the assistance of the coffee shop owner across the street, Moustache (Lou Jacobi), who offers comedic asides on the situation. Wilder wanted Charles Laughton for the role, but like Monroe, died before filming. He was replaced by Jacobi, who is hilariously deadpan.

Nestor takes several jobs to earn the money that he, as Lord X, gives to Irma. He’s too tired to do anything else and when Irma models a new see-through negligee for him and he falls asleep, she begins to suspect he’s exhausted because he’s seeing another woman. Concurrently, Nestor also begins to be jealous of Irma’s growing infatuation with Lord X.

This is prime Wilder material here, a breezy sex farce involving faked identities played to comedic extremes.

The prostitution on display her is somewhat glamorized, even though early on we see Irma slapped around by her pimp Hippolyte (Bruce Yarnell). Still, Wilder treats prostitution as a fact of life and not a hand-wringing social problem. The girls are hard working professionals, just like a secretary or a housewife. It’s likely that Wilder’s past profession as a gigolo in 1920s Berlin made him sympathetic to the working girls on display here.

“Irma La Douce” was originally a musical play by Alexandre Breffat. Wilder and his co-screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond augment the play, changing Nestor from a student to a rookie policeman. Many who saw and loved the musical were disappointed to see a non-musical treatment of the material. I’ve read Wilder started out filming it as a musical but thought it wasn’t working and made it a straight comedy. How ironic then that the film’s sole Academy Award win was to composer Andre Previn in the Best Score – Adaptation or Treatment category. (The film was also nominated in the Best Cinematography – Color category).

As amusing as the film is, it has its flaws. Like much of Wilder’s later works, it goes on too long. It runs 143 minutes and could easily lose about 20 minutes. And as good as MacLaine is, she really doesn’t get a chance to shine. While Lord X is going on and on about his ridiculous exploits, there are curiously no reaction shots of Irma. She just goes on playing solitaire. I never knew how she really felt about Lord X, except as an easy meal ticket. Her feelings for him later on seem to come from left field. It’s a good performance, but not a great one.

I was proud to participate in this mini blogathon looking at the Best Actress Academy Award race of 1963. For those interested to see who MacLaine’s competition was that year, I invite you to check on these other entries.

Monday, Feb. 21: Classic Film and TV Cafe will profile Rachel Roberts, nominated for "This Sporting Life" NOW POSTED!
Tuesday, Feb. 22: Kevin's Movie Corner will present Shirley MacLaine in "Irma La Douce"
Wednesday, Feb. 23: Classicfilmboy will cover Leslie Caron in "The L-Shaped Room"
Thursday, Feb. 24: ClassicBecky's Film and Literary Review will examine Patricia Neal in "Hud"
Friday, Feb. 25: Noir and Chick Flicks will look at Natalie Wood in "Love With the Proper Stranger"

A Night to Remember (1942)

2011-02-16T08:52:00.000-08:00

Fans of Sidney Toler’s Charlie Chan characterization will likely enjoy “A Night to Remember” (1942), a murder mystery comedy where Sidney plays Inspector Hankins, called in to investigate the murder of a man found in the backyard of a Greenwich Village apartment building.

The couple who discover the body are played by Loretta Young and Brian Aherne. He’s a mystery writer and she thinks their new Greenwich garden apartment is the ideal setting for him to write his mysteries. Of course, with a real murder mystery in their own back yard (literally), the couple decides to investigate the mystery on their own.

“A Night to Remember” was produced by Columbia Pictures, and what an odd coincidence that it should appear the same year Columbia produced “My Sister Eileen”, also set in a Greenwich Village garden apartment. Coincidence, or did a Columbia executive have a Greenwich garden apartment fetish? In another nod to Eileen, actress Jeff Donnell appears here too, again as an upstairs neighbor. (I also wonder if Columbia re-used the apartment set. It doesn’t look like the one used in Eileen, but Hollywood’s production designers are wizards at adapting their sets for more than one purpose.)

It’s an amusing enough trifle I suppose, and many think it’s one of the better comedy mysteries made in that era. I thought it took a while to get going and never really picked up steam.

Sidney Toler is good though. He was at an odd point in his career when he made this. Because of World War II, Twentieth Century Fox elected to cease production on their very popular Charlie Chan series. Even though Charlie was of Chinese descent, and China was our ally, it was still considered incendiary to have an Asian hero. In 1944, Toler purchased from Fox the film rights to the Charlie Chan character and brought the Charlie Chan series, with himself in the lead, to Monogram Studios, where the series continued for 11 more Charlie Chan B mysteries until Toler’s death in 1947.

Between Fox and Monogram though, Toler kept busy with a variety of assignments, including this outing. It’s fun to see Toler interview suspects wearing a dark suit, instead of Charlie’s usual white attire. In what I suspect is a nod to his Chan portrayal, at one point he even politely bows to one of the suspects, and says “Thank you so much.” It has to be a joke about his Chan portrayals.

The funniest exchange occurs between Inspector Hankins and Aherne’s Jeff Troy character, who explains to the Inspector that his pen name is Jeff Yort. Get it, he asks the Inspector?

The Inspector nods in understanding and tells him he read his last murder mystery, “Murder on the Terrace.” Jeff asks what he thought of it. Inspector Hankins says, “It knits. Get it?”

Young and Aherne both overact for my taste, and its up to a fine supporting cast to keep us interested. Welcome faces like Gale Sondergaard, Donald MacBride and Lee Patrick provide much amusement.

It’s all very light and pleasant enough. It’s not bad, but there’s not much to get excited about either. A better movie involving a mystery author who gets involved in a real life mystery is “Footsteps in the Dark: (1941) with Errol Flynn, Brenda Marshall and Ralph Bellamy.

I Met Him in Paris

2011-02-04T09:26:00.000-08:00

Director Ernst Lubitsch once famously said, “I’ve been to Paris, France and I’ve been to Paris Paramount. Paris Paramount is better.”

Despite its title, only a small portion of Paramount’s “I Met Him in Paris” (1937) takes place in the title city, but its there in all its glory.

Paris Paramount is where the world’s most beautiful and sophisticated people wear the latest fashions, drink and say witty things to each other. No one talks politics, there’s no war, and there’s no poverty or unemployment. Of course there’s no unemployment – someone has to keep those massive Art Deco apartments and nightclubs gleaming.

In “I Met Him in Paris” Claudette Colbert plays Kay Harding, a fashion buyer for a New York apartment store who has been saving for four years for a Paris vacation. She has an OK time, but misses the companionship of someone who speaks English. One night in a bar she meets two Americans, George Potter (Melvyn Douglas) and Gene Anders (Robert Young.) Soon the two men are vying for her affections and the three of them decide to vacation together in Switzerland. Separate rooms in the hotel of course.

While “I Met Him in Paris” is a fine title, a more accurate title would be “I Vacationed with Two Men in Switzerland.” However, that would have never made it past the Hays Office.

Paramount Switzerland is every bit as wonderful as Paramount Paris. Even the outdoor bar is staffed by a waiter wearing a tuxedo. In one of my favorite scenes, Douglas and Colbert are skating together at the outdoors skating rink and she says she hasn’t had breakfast yet. Douglas calls for a waiter and the tuxedo-clad waiter skates up to them and takes their order for coffee and orange juice. I don’t even like winter sports, but I want to stay at that resort.

The film itself is most agreeable concoction. There’s little doubt who’s going to wind up with the fair Claudette in the end, especially when Gene’s wife (Mona Barrie) shows up. Oh, there’s a third suitor (Lee Bowman, as ineffectual as ever) but he’s such a mope there’s never a question that she and Melvyn Douglas will wind up together.

The more I see Melvyn Douglas in these light comedy roles, the more I appreciate him. He did a million of them and I think it’s because he never overshadows his leading ladies. Whether he’s playing against Irene Dunne, Rosalind Russell, Joan Blondell, Joan Crawford, Claudette Colbert and, of course, Greta Garbo, he never takes the limelight away from them. Bette Davis liked playing with George Brent for the same reason.

But Douglas is a better actor than Brent, with a twinkle in his eye and the slight twitch of a smile as he teases his leading ladies. He appreciates them as the great ladies they are but can’t resist bringing them down a peg.

There’s a surprising amount of slapstick comedy on hand here as the three engage in all manners of winter sports. My favorite scenes involve novice skier Robert Young constantly being overtaken by a group of skiers who can’t resist yodeling as they ski down a hill. The more they yodel, the more annoyed Young becomes. (Can’t blame him there).

Another amusing sequence has the three on a bobsled. Well, really two, because Young, the brakeman, has fallen off the back as they’re pushing off. And then Douglas and Colbert start going really fast. She falls off, and can’t scramble up the ice-crusted bobsled run. She’s trapped in the run’s narrow confines and off in the distance she can hear another bobsled barreling towards her. It’s comedy as suspense, and it’s probably the best bobsled sequence until 007 raced after Blofeld in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” (1969).

There seems to some dispute as to where these outdoor scenes were filmed. IMDB says Sun Valley, Idaho, but the DVD says Lake Placid, New York, site of the 1932 Olympics. Regardless of which one it was, it's a fine substitute for Switzerland, with able assistance from the always reliable Paramount set decorators.

“I Met Him in Paris” is an agreeable concoction. Not the most memorable comedy of the era, but a most enjoyable one. It’s fun seeing the trio of stars take some well-executed pratfalls in the snow, and it’s the type of movie one happily watches with a smile on one’s face, and one that lingers pleasantly in the memory. Good show.

The Best and Worst of 2010

2011-01-24T08:25:00.000-08:00

The general consensus is 2010 was a terrible year for movies. And for most of the year it was. However, like the cavalry in an old western, a terrific run of movies at the end of the year came to the rescue and saved the day.

Before December though, I would substitute the word uninspired for terrible. This summer in particular was one clunker after another. I know we don’t go to the movies in the summer to see Academy Award material, but is it asking for at least craftsmanship and professionalism. So many movies were just so very average, as disposable as tissue, even lacking in basic entertainment value.

As of this writing, I have seen more than 70 2010 movies, either at the theater or later on DVD and cable TV. I didn’t get to see everything. I regret not seeing “The Town” and hope to make quick amends on that one. I mainly see traditional Hollywood fare, but thanks to the After Hours Film Society in Downers Grove, IL, I was able to see a fair number of art, independent and foreign films. Many of these were critically acclaimed, but a surprising number of them left me cold.

My area of west suburban Chicago is blessed with many second-run movie theaters so I didn’t pay first-run prices for a lot of these. But the movies were so undistinguished that I resented even spending $3 to see them and felt myself asking, usually about halfway through, why I wasn’t home watching something on TCM instead. I felt that way more this year than any other year I can remember, and I’ve been going to the movies on a regular basis for more than 40 years.

But all in all, there were 10 films which gave me much pleasure and several, I think, will be timeless classics. Heck, even Tony Scott delivered a good one with “Unstoppable.” Maybe it wasn’t such a bad year after all.

In descending order, my top 10 films of the year are:

10. The Secret In Their Eyes
Last year’s Academy Award winner for Best Foreign Film was gripping from beginning to end. Benjamin and Irene first meet in 1974 during the investigation of a rape and murder when she is a judge’s assistant and he is a young investigator. In 2000 they meet again when Benjamin wants to re-open the original investigation. Irene is now a respected judge. The movie bounces back and forth to the 1974 investigation and the current one. I don’t want to say any more, but this is terrific entertainment with a concluding chase at a soccer game that Hitchcock would have applauded. Well deserving of its Oscar.

9. Get Low
Some of the year’s best acting was found in this wonderful film. Set in Tennessee in the 1930s, Robert Duvall plays an eccentric hermit who plans his own funeral, even deciding who will give his eulogy. He wants to see what people say about him, and to see that his money will be well spent. Wonderful period detail with a dryly funny Bill Murray as the town’s undertaker, and Sissy Spacek as Duvall’s old flame.

8. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo/The Girl Who Played With Fire

Like everyone else, I was mesmerized by the books and thought these adaptations from Sweden were excellent. I still need to see (and read) “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”, but if it’s even half as good as these, it will be a winner. Noomi Rapace may be not be physically perfect for the Lisbeth Salander role – she’s not petite enough – but she inhabits the role so thoroughly, it’s one of those instances where physical resemblance isn’t important.

7. True Grit
The Coen Bros. were smart to retain much of the pitch perfect dialogue from the book, which is one of the great American novels. Still it irks me a bit when some say how faithful this is to the book, much more than the first version, done in 1969 with John Wayne. While I think the Coen Bros. do a better job of successfully translating the film’s tone, the Wayne version actually features more of the book, and uses just as much of the dialogue as the current version does. The Coen Bros. version’s ending is truer to the book, but I prefer the sense of closure the earlier version gave us. Still a marvelous, marvelous film but if I had a gun pointed to my head, I would give the nod to the original.

6. The Social Network
Good movie, but for me a tad overrated. Beautifully shot and splendidly acted, it was a real pleasure to hear such rich dialogue on the screen delivered by such good actors. But, in the long run, it struck me as being about two groups of self absorbed millionaires fighting over even more millions. But there’s no denying the entertainment factor while watching it.

5. Easy A
One of the warmest, funniest, wisest and most human films of the year, this was a total delight from beginning to end. This story of Olive, a high school girl who gets an unearned reputation for being loose and the consequences that follow, was captivating viewing. Emma Stone became a star with this movie and I hope we’re graced with her talent for a long time to come. She has the talent, charisma and screen presence of the great actresses of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Why this wasn’t a bigger hit I have no idea.

4. The Ghost Writer
The year’s best and smartest thriller, courtesy director Roman Polanski, with nary a gun shot or chase sequence in sight. Ewan McGregor is hired to ghost write the memoirs of former British prime minister Pierce Brosnan just as revelations about the prime minister’s approval of torture activities threaten to erupt in scandal. The setting is a lonely, windswept, autumnal beach on Martha’s Vineyard in a house where everyone harbors secrets. Some complained about the ending, but I thought it was chilling. I thought Brosnan was revelatory in “The Tailor of Panama” (2001), and he’s even better here. I love it when former 007s show what good actors they really are.

3. Toy Story 3
One of the best trilogies of all times gets a memorable and genuinely moving send off. I wish they could bottle what it’s in the air at Pixar Studios and distribute it throughout the rest of Hollywood.

2. The Fighter
Incredible acting fuel this true working class life story about boxer Mickey Ward (Mark Wahlberg) and his crack-addicted trainer Dickie (Christian Bale). Everyone here is at the top of their game. I loved the sisters in this. They’re more frightening than anything you’ll see in a horror movie.

1. The King’s Speech
What can I say, but as perfect and impeccable a movie as you’ll see all year, just tops in direction, acting and writing. There’s nothing so satisfying as a good story well told. I can’t imagine anyone of any age group not being captivated by this movie.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Swan: This almost made the top 10. I really dug Natalie Portman’s high wire performance in this. She plays a ballerina desperate to star in a new production of Swan Lake. She always looks like she’s terrified she’s going to be found out as a phony, even though she clearly isn’t. I do wish the dance sequences were filmed better, without the dancers being cut off at the waist. Too bad director Doesn’t Darren Aronofsky didn’t heed Fred Astaire’s advice. I think it requires multiple viewings to catch everything. For instance, is Barbara Hershey’s mother character real, or also one of Portman’s fantasies? A rather large, middle-aged woman next to us got up in disgust during the lesbian love making scene between Portman and Mila Kunis and it seemed to take forever for her to pass in front of the screen. Very annoying.

The Girl on the Train: French film based on a real case about a young Jewish woman who fakes an Anti-Semitic attack. Sad to watch, but engrossing from start to finish. Catherine Deneuve plays the girl’s mother, and she’s as wonderful to watch as ever.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I: A good build up to the big finale, but more than a bit sluggish in its pacing. What I’ve always liked about the books, and the movies, is how positively Dickensian the characters are who inhabit this world. For me, this one didn’t have enough of those Dickensian moments. And my main complaint about this entry is the same problem I had with the book – when are they going to get out of that damn forest? It had me pining for some awesome Slavko Vorkapich montages to show the passing of time.

The Karate Kid: I expected to dislike this, but wound up really enjoying this. The China locations help a great deal and Jackie Chan delivers his best performance to date.

The Kids Are All Right: Beautifully acted and written if a bit formulaic. Julianne Moore and Annette Bening are wonderful as the lesbian parents of two teenagers who decide to look for their sperm donor father (Mark Ruffolo). When they find him, the family life is turned upside down in all kinds of unexpected ways.

Letters to Juliet: Vanessa Redgrave talks granddaughter Amanda Seyfried into driving through Italy to look for the lost love of her youth. I know this likely has not appeared on other Best of 2010 lists, but to me it was completely satisfying in a way so many current movies today aren’t. Emotions are honestly earned, the Italian location footage is to die for and the characters are very appealing and very human. Put a Max Steiner score and a Delmer Daves director’s credit on it and it could have been a most enjoyable evening at the movies in the 1960s, and believe me, that is not an insult. Plus, I’m in love with Amanda Seyfried so that helped a great deal.

Salt: It was nice to watch an action movie and be able to actually follow the action. That hasn’t happened with a new actioner in a long time.

Splice: The year’s best horror movie also gave us lots to think about. I’m very wary of genetic manipulation (I guess I’ve seen too many horror movies) and this one really delivered the creepy monster goods. It’s the type of movie where you want to yell at the characters not to do things they’re about to do. I’m sure Sarah Polley doesn’t want to be thought of as a scream queen, but since she appeared in two of the best horror movies of the last several years (this and the “Dawn of the Dead” remake in 2004) if she elects to do another one, I’ll be there opening weekend.

Worst Films of the Year

The A Team: Loud, obnoxious and stupid. When I think of the classic tradition of men with a mission movies like “The Guns of Navarone” (1961) or “Where Eagles Dare” (1968) and then see trash like this, it makes me want to weep. I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Clash of the Titans: The poster boy for horrific 2010 movies, just excruciating on every level. As I wrote last year, “The new incarnation of “Clash of the Titans” is as glum, dreary and depressing an adventure movie as I’ve ever seen. It has no romance or poetry in its soul; what it does have is a series of combat scenes resembling a video game connected by the wispiest of narrative threads. I found it truly unbearable from beginning to end.” It had me pining for “Medusa Against the Son of Hercules” (1963), rubber monsters, bad dubbing and all.

Get Him to the Greek: As contrived and laugh-free a comedy as I’ve ever seen. I can’t stand Russell Brand, which may have been the problem. One of those awful Judd Apatow—produced yawn fests where the characters engage in all kinds of repulsive behavior for the first three quarters of the movie before getting all gooey and touch feely at the end. I saw this on a brutally hot summer afternoon because I don’t have air conditioning. It led me to think maybe I should invest in a window unit.

The Last Airbender: Another big budget fantasy epic that was duller than dull. It’s the type of movie I had forgotten I’d seen even as I was walking up the theater aisle as the credits rolled.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time: Everything about “Clash of the Titans” applies here, though I did enjoy the ostrich races. That’s not something you see every day.

Red: Something of a cheat, as I only saw the first hour before the power in the theater went off and we were given passes to a future movie. I never had the slightest desire to see the rest of it. One overkill scene is so typical of why I despise most current action movies. A stealth team of three or four special ops guys, all dressed in black and wearing masks, sneak into the house of ex-CIA man Bruce Willis to take him out. Being the hero, he disarms and kills them and walks onto his front porch where he’s greeted by seemingly the rapid fire of a dozen or so machine guns. Because nothing says a stealth operation like hundreds of rounds of ammunition being shot off in a suburban neighborhood. Stupid beyond all words.

Skyline: Good special effects highlight this alien invasion movie, but a more unappealing cast of characters I can’t imagine. Would it have the writers to at least attempt to make even one of the characters likeable? Just one?

Loved by Many, but Left Me with a Mere Shrug of the Shoulders

Alice in Wonderland; Animal Kingdom; How to Train Your Dragon; I Am Love; Inception; Mother; Winter’s Bone

CMBA Hitchcock Blogathon: Rope

2011-01-17T06:41:00.000-08:00

“Rope” (1948) concerns two young intellectuals who are also killers. Not just any kind of killers, but thrill killers. They see murder as an intellectual exercise. They want to not only experience what it feels like to murder someone, but to see if they can get away with it.

To see if they can get away with it. It’s similar to what Alfred Hitchcock tried to do with “Rope.” Like his thrill killer subjects, he wanted to try something new to see if he could get away with it.

Get away with what?

“Rope” was based on a 1929 play by “Gaslight” and “Hangover Square” author Patrick Hamilton. Hitchcock wanted the movie audience to feel they were watching a play. That meant no cutting. With this decision in hand, Hitchcock set forth to undertake one of the most audacious films in his long and illustrious career.

Authors Robert A. Harris and Michael S. Lasky explain in their book “The Films of Alfred Hitchcock” (Citadel Press, 1976): “He shot Rope with no actual cuts and instead filmed ten-minute takes, the maximum amount of film (one thousand feet) that a camera will hold. Planning was necessary in defining just how the camera would move and how to create the effect of no cuts. The latter was obtained by closing and opening each ten-minute take in close up behind an actor or object so that they would create a solid texture on the screen. The total effect of Rope was of one continuous shot, the length of the film being the actual time of the action in the story.

“The single setting for the production had walls and furniture with silent wheels which could be moved away quietly while the camera was moving from place to place. A color backdrop skyline of New York was realistic. Clouds, made of spun glass, would move and the sky turned from the orange of sunset to the black and twinkling lights of night.”

In addition to the film’s technical challenges, it was also Hitchcock’s first color film. An odd choice for a color debut, since it all takes place on one set. It was also the first of four films James Stewart and Hitchcock made together. It proved a most fruitful collaboration.

The film cost $1.5 million to produce, mainly because of the many technical problems the film engendered. Plus, Stewart’s salary alone was $300,000. But the film earned its money back and even made a small profit.

While the no editing approach is interesting, it is somewhat limiting. To the best of my knowledge, no one ever tried to repeat this one-take approach. In that regard, “Rope” remains a most singular achievement.

The film opens on a New York street and we see an eagle eye’s view of people (including our beloved director, in his cameo appearance) scurrying past an elegant apartment building. We then track to a window followed by a choked off scream. We then see two men with a third standing listlessly between them with a rope around his neck. At first glance it looks like a rehearsal of some kind (is Hitchcock playing tricks with us?), but no, its murder and the two men are then shown placing the body in a large chest.

The two are Brandon Shaw (John Dall) and Phillip Morgan (Farley Granger) who have just committed the murder just before hosting a small dinner party. Mrs. Wilson (Edith Evanson), their housekeeper and cook, is serving at the party.

Guest of honor is David Kently, a college classmate and friend of Brandon and Philip. Other guests include David’s father Henry (Sir Cedric Hardwicke), Henry’s sister-in-law Mrs. Atwater (Constance Collier), David’s fiancée Janet Walker (Joan Chandler), David’s former friend and Janet’s ex-boyfriend Kenneth Lawrence (Douglas Dick).

Late arrival is Rupert Cadell (James Stewart), the former teacher of the boys. Rupert is brilliant but has definite ideas of the superiority of some over others, and rationalizes killing the weaker elements in society.

Tension begins to rise at the party, not only at the guests’ repugnance at Rupert’s theories, but when the normally reliable David does not turn up at the party. The audience knows that David has been murdered by Brandon and Phillip and is now lying in a chest that’s being used as a buffet table for the dinner guests. Brandon finds this highly amusing and Phillip, who has shown doubts about the murder from the very beginning, begins to unravel over the course of the evening.

Rupert suspects something is up and after everyone has left, begins to bait the boys to get to the truth.

Running a crisp 80 minutes, the film is continually engrossing. Though based on a play, Hitchcock gives us two wonderful suspense sequences. Who but Hitchcock could squeeze suspense out of a stationary camera in a one-room setting with no editing?

In one, Rupert theorizes to Brandon and Phillip how the murder was committed. We don’t see the actors in the scene, only hear the actors as the camera tracks where the murder was committed, how the body was hid, how the furniture was re-arranged. The camera acts as a visual guide to Rupert’s remarks.

In the other, Mrs. Wilson cleans off the makeshift buffet table, removing the candles and dishes. The camera remains a stationary observer as she brings the dishes and food platters into the dining room in the background, and then returns with a stack of books brought from the dining room back to the chest. Running several minutes long, there’s no editing, but we hear the empty babble of a cocktail party conversation, and we wait in breathless anticipation for her to open the chest and put the books back in. It’s a marvelous sequence.

Because of the Production Code, any hint of homosexuality between Brandon and Phillip is buried, but astute viewers can figure out there’s something going on between the two, especially those viewers familiar with the Leopold and Loeb case, which helped inspire “Rope.”

Leopold and Loeb were two well-to-do students at the University of Chicago who in 1924 murdered their neighbor, 14-year-old Bobby Franks, in a desire to commit the perfect crime.

Both were homosexual and both subscribed to the Nietzschean philosophy of the superman – someone who has certain “superior” qualities inherent in themselves, and thus are exempt from the laws which govern “ordinary” men.

Brandon and Phillip think they’re above the law too, and I think Rupert does too. His realization that his theories have caused Brandon and Phillip to murder their friend is beautifully played by Stewart and is one of the most underrated bits of acting in his career.

Some think that Stewart is miscast here, and there may be some truth to that. Hitchcock wanted James Mason to play Rupert and I think he would have been marvelous. With that rich, plummy voice, I think Mason could make anyone feel inferior and not worthy of living. He’s so good in those kinds of roles.

But Stewart does well enough, and I think he’s good in the confrontational scenes with John Dall and Farley Granger. I’ve always liked Dall, ever since I first witnessed his magnificent sneering in “Atlantis, the Lost Continent” (1961) on Sunday afternoon TV.

“Rope” was adapted for the screen by Hume Cronyn, though the screenplay was written by Arthur Laurents. Laurents thought Jimmy Stewart was just playing Jimmy Stewart and someone like James Mason would have suggested a romantic relationship between the teacher and one, or both, of his students, thus giving the film even more of an edge.

Like a lot of Hitchcock movies, the ghoulishness is lightened somewhat by some dry comedy. The dithery Mrs. Atwater can never remember the names of plays or movies she’s seen, though she recently adored the movie she recently saw with Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. I’m assuming she means Hitchcock’s “Notorious” (1946). And the alert Mrs. Wilson, with her snarky comments, shows she’s more on the ball than Brandon and Phillip think.

Atypical for Hitchcock, there’s no original score though a principal theme, “Perpetual Theme No. 1” by Francis Poulenec, is heard throughout the movie.

Despite its lack of editing, “Rope” remains a fascinating film. The wit of the script, performances, and Hitchcock’s unfailing visual eye make this one a winner.

There’s lots of good reading about other Hitchcock films in the Classic Film Association’s Alfred Hitchcock blogathon. Films and their sites are below. I’m looking forward to reading them and encourage others to do so as well, especially if you have a favorite Hitchcock title listed here.

1. The Birds – Classic Film & TV Café http://classic-film-tv.blogspot.com/

2. Dial M for Murder – True Classics: The ABCs of Film http://trueclassics.wordpress.com/

3. The Lady Vanishes – MacGuffin Movies http://macguffinmovies.wordpress.com/

4. Lifeboat – Classicfilmboy’s Movie Paradise http://www.classicfilmboy.com/

5. The Man Who Knew Too Much – Reel Revival http://reelrevival.blogspot.com/

6. Mr. and Mrs. Smith – Carole & Co. http://community.livejournal.com/carole_and_co/

7. North By Northwest – Bette’s Classic Movie Blog http://bettesmovieblog.blogspot.com/

8. Notorious – Twenty Four Frames http://twentyfourframes.wordpress.com/

9. The Pleasure Garden – Thrilling Days of Yesteryear http://www.thrillingdaysofyesteryear.blogspot.com/

10. Rear Window – Java’s Journey http://javabeanrush.blogspot.com/

11. Rebecca – ClassicBecky’s Film and Literary Review http://www.classicbeckybrainfood.blogspot.com/

12. Rope – Kevin’s Movie Corner http://kevinsmoviecorner.blogspot.com/

13. Shadow of a Doubt - Great Entertainers Media Archive http://greatentertainersarchives.blogspot.com/

14. The 39 Steps – Garbo Laughs http://garbolaughs.wordpress.com/

15. Three Classic Hitchcock Killers – The Lady Eve’s Reel Life http://eves-reel-life.blogspot.com/

16. Torn Curtain - Via Margutta 51 http://www.via-51.blogspot.com/

17. The Trouble with Harry – Bit Part Actors http://bitactors.blogspot.com/

18. Vertigo – Noir and Chick Flicks http://dawnschickflicks.blogspot.com/

19. The Wrong Man – The Movie Projector http://movieprojector.blogspot.com/

The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle

2011-01-10T08:24:00.000-08:00

The nine films Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made together at RKO between 1933 and 1939 are some of the most magical and sublime movies ever made. They’re also among the wittiest. If you remove all the musical numbers, you still have some of the most sparkling comedies of the era. They also boast, no surprise, some of the greatest dance numbers ever put on screen.

Their last film at RKO, “The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle” (1939) may be the most underrated film in the series of 10 films Astaire and Rogers made together. (A reunion occurred at M-G-M in 1949 with “The Barkley’s of Broadway”). It may not be their wittiest film, feature members of the Astaire-Rogers stock company, or showcase their best dance routines. Still, there’s a special glow about the film that I find very appealing.

It’s also the odd man out in their films, being not a musical comedy, but a period film, a biography of the famous pre-World War I dance team. World War I plays an important role in the story – is this the first time an ugly reality such as war found its way into the world of Astaire and Rogers?

Before Fred and Ginger, Vernon and Irene were the pre-eminent dance team of the early 20th century. Their dances, including the famous Castle Walk, swept the world. They were equally known for their fashion sense. When Irene Castle bobbed her hair, millions of women around the world did the same thing.

It’s a nice film, and I don’t mean that in a pejorative sense. Vernon and Irene like each other from the start, and even when facing career lows they are always there for each other.

Irene Castle was a technical consultant on the film and from all accounts, was a holy terror on the set. (Ginger was a special target of Irene’s wrath. It all started when Irene insisted Ginger darken her hair to match Irene’s brunette shade. Ginger refused.) I’m guessing that the real Vernon and Irene relationship was not always so carefree and the lack of drama was necessary to placate Irene. There would be no disparaging Vernon’s memory if Irene had anything to do with it.

Irene was also somewhat taken aback at the casting of Walter Brennan as Walter, their servant, confidante and biggest fan. The real life Walter was black.

Still, Irene must have been pleased with the many recreations of the famous Castle dance routines. Not only do we get the Castle Walk, and a tango to die for, but the film features one of the loveliest moments in the Astaire Rogers catalog. It’s World War I and Vernon is flying planes for the British Army and is expected to meet Irene for a Paris reunion. He’s late and she’s distraught as she stands on the dance floor alone, wondering what to do until Vernon walks in. They start dancing - perhaps gliding is a better word - and it’s just beyond lovely.

All the music is period, save for one song written for the movie, the lovely “Only When You’re In My Arms” written by Harry Ruby and Bert Kalmar. Ironically, Fred Astaire would play Kalmar in the Ruby-Kalmar biopic “Three Little Words” (1954), a personal favorite of mine. Also a nice movie.

Not only is it their most underrated film, but it’s also underrated when it comes to the miracle movie year of 1939.

Movie audiences that year were lucky to see some of the great love stories of all time. Of course there’s “Gone With the Wind” and “Wuthering Heights.” There’s also “Love Affair” with Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer, the original “An Affair to Remember” (1958); Deanna Durbin getting her first screen kiss, courtesy Robert Stack in the thoroughly charming Cinderella re-tread “First Love”; lonely schoolteacher Robert Donat meeting a radiant Greer Garson on vacation and enjoying a few years of happiness with her until her premature death in “Goodbye Mr. Chips”; Bette Davis nobly fighting blindness in “Dark Victory”; Cary Grant and Jean Arthur arguing and loving in “Only Angels Have Wings”; and Melvyn Douglas wooing and charming staunch Communist Greta Garbo in Paris in “Ninotchka.”

In addition to Fred and Ginger, other legendary screen teams that year William Powell and Myrna gave us “Another Thin Man” and Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland helped take “Dodge City.”

These are all fondly remembered to this day. “The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle” should be part of that list for many reasons – not only as the final RKO film of the greatest dance team in film history. Not only as one of the most charming films of 1939. Not only as one of the best musical biopics of the era. But a combination of all three. It’s a wonderful movie.

Preview of Coming Attractions: On January 17, 2011 I’ll be participating in the Classic Movie Bloggers Association’s annual blogathon event. This year the blogathon is devoted to the films of Alfred Hitchcock. I’ll be writing about his daring experimental film “Rope” (1948). I hope you can check back.

Wyatt Earp

2010-12-28T13:39:00.001-08:00

Fans of traditional westerns no doubt enjoy “Wyatt Earp” (1994) more than general audiences. I think it’s a woefully underrated film, and remember going to see it in the theaters in 1994 and being blown away by how good it was. That was not a popular opinion then nor is it now. But I watched it again the other night and my initial opinion held up for me. I think “Wyatt Earp” is one of the best westerns – and one of the best epics – of the last 15 years.

Yes, an epic, a genre often embraced by audiences yet rejected by the critics. Larger than life characters set amidst the great events of history – that’s what the three-hour “Wyatt Earp” is. It’s a type of film that has sadly gone out of fashion today.

Owen Roizman’s cinematography is gorgeous, giving us sweeping vistas of the West, ably enhanced by James Newton Howard’s epic scoring. This is traditional, old school Hollywood movie making at its most appealing.

I greatly admire the skill and craft that went into its making. Director Lawrence Kasdan keeps the pace sure and steady over the film’s long running time, though the film really picks up once Wyatt becomes a lawman.

Yes, the real Wyatt Earp did live an adventurous life, working on the railroad, and as a teamster, stagecoach driver and a buffalo skinner before becoming a lawman. He earned a reputation for taming the tough Kansas cattle towns of Wichita and Dodge City before earning immortality in Tombstone, Arizona and the Gunfight at the OK Corral.

Wyatt and his brothers Morgan and Virgil were inseparable, much to the consternation of their wives. The family came first – the wives may have been in the family, but they weren’t of the family.

The film doesn’t pain Wyatt as a saint or a sinner. A controversial figure to this day, he was equal parts lawman and vigilante.

The cast can’t be beat: Gene Hackman as Nicholas Earp, the family patriarch; Michael Madsen as Virgil; Tom Sizemore as life long friend Bat Masterson; Bill Pullman as Bat’s brother Ed; JoBeth Williams, Catherine O’Hara, Mare Winningham and Joanna Going as the Earp women; and Mark Harmon as Sheriff Johnny Behan, the lackey of the Clanton Gang in Tombstone.

Special praise must be given to Dennis Quaid for his performance as Doc Holliday. Quaid is one of our best actors and this is one of his best performances. He dropped almost 40 pounds to play the TB-ridden, phlegmatic Holliday.

When “Tombstone”, the other Wyatt Earp drama, opened the year before, much of the praise went to Val Kilmer for his flamboyant Doc Holliday. Audiences couldn’t get enough of him. And yes, he’s great in it.

But you know what? Quaid is every bit as good in the role of Doc Holliday. And so are Jason Robards, Kirk Douglas and Victor Mature. For Doc Holliday is a fool proof role, one the worst actor in the world couldn’t screw up.

Doc Holliday was a former dentist turned gambler, a wounded soul from Georgia, his TB causing him to have uncontrollable coughing jags, extremely cynical but tremendously loyal to his only friend Wyatt Earp – what actor could resist such a role?

And then there’s Kevin Costner in the title role. I’ve always been a big fan of Kevin Costner, and not just because he has a splendid first name. He’s one of the few performers today I’ll go see in anything.

He’s very well cast here and does a fine job. Flinty when he needs to be but incredibly loyal to his family and Doc, Costner looks the part and from what I’ve read of the real Wyatt Earp, he really captures the man’s personality.

I have a feeling time will be very kind of “Wyatt Earp.” Hopefully this epic style of filmmaking will come into fashion again. I can’t wait.

Cash on Demand

2010-12-09T09:03:00.000-08:00

It’s Hammer Time!

Those of us who bemoan Peter Cushing never played Ebenezer Scrooge can take solace in “Cash on Demand” (1961), a first-rate suspense melodrama from the famed English film company.

Set on December 23, Cushing plays Fordyce, a most Scrooge-like bank executive and a notorious stickler for detail and order. He dresses down one of his long-time tellers Pearson (Richard Vernon) for a minor mistake and threatens him with termination. No holiday cheer at this bank in the English provinces, and certainly no time for office chit chat or small talk with the staff.

That morning an examiner for the bank’s insurance company shows up. The smartly dressed Hepburn (Andre Morell) is there to check on the bank’s security system and to make sure everything is on the up and up.

Once alone with Fordyce in his office, Hepburn springs into action. He’s not checking on security but plans to rob the bank with Fordyce’s help. An accomplice has Fordyce’s wife and child held hostage at their home and Hepburn threatens to have them killed if Fordyce doesn’t help rob the bank by a certain time frame.

“Cash on Demand” is based on a play, and it shows somewhat, but it doesn’t seem to matter when performances of this caliber are on display. Both Cushing and Morell are absolutely at the top of their game as we witness the suave and very confident Hepburn toying with the continually battered emotions of the uptight and distraught Fordyce.

The film is only 80 minutes long and there’s not a wasted scene or moment. It’s a terrific suspense movie with no big set pieces, just the mounting tension as the clock winds down.

This is one of Peter Cushing’s very best performances and it’s too bad he never got to play Scrooge. Seen here, one can easily imagine him taking the role on and doing a marvelous job with it.

The dependable Andre Morell is always a pleasure to watch (he’s one of the screen’s best Dr. Watsons) but this is also a standout performance. It’s ironic that these two Hammer mainstays gave among their best performances in a film that was very hard to see until it was released on DVD. One early Hammer book even listed “Cash on Demand” as missing. There were poor VHS dupes floating around in the bootleg market, which didn’t do the film justice.

Earlier this year, the fine folks at Sony Home Video released their latest volume of Hammer offerings in a new collection called “Icons of Suspense: Hammer Films”, six hard to see films including “Cash on Demand.” I have yet to watch the other films, but the set is worth it alone for “Cash on Demand.” I’m greatly looking forward to the other films in the set.

It’s too bad Hammer never made a version of “A Christmas Carol.” A friend of mine came up with having Peter Cushing as Scrooge, Christopher Lee as the three Christmas ghosts and Michael Ripper as Bob Cratchit.

I’ll expand on that: Peter Cushing as Scrooge; Christopher Lee as Jacob Marley; Michael Ripper as Bob Cratchit; Barbara Shelley as Mrs. Cratchit; Francis Matthews as Fred, Scrooge’s nephew; Veronica Carlson as Fred’s wife; Martita Hunt as the Ghost of Christmas Past; Andrew Kier as the Ghost of Christmas Present.

Andre Morell would have to be worked in somewhere, perhaps one of the chaps who asks Scrooge to make a charitable donation to the city’s orphanages.

Sigh. What a wonder it would have been. At least we have “Cash on Demand” to quench the demand of a Christmas movie done Hammer-style.

Without Reservations

2010-12-02T13:09:00.001-08:00

Produced by RKO, “Without Reservations” (1946) is a modestly amusing comedy, passable entertainment and a pleasant time waster. I didn’t regret watching it, but it’s one I won’t be returning to anytime soon. The director is Mervyn LeRoy, hardly known for his light touch, so that doesn’t help matters either. The movie might – just might - have worked with a more age appropriate leading lady.

In this case, said lady is Claudette Colbert, a favorite of mine, but not here. She’s too matronly and experienced for the role. Lest I be accused of ageism, I just don’t think Colbert fits the role here of a hugely successful author who has a somewhat naïve view of the world and the way adults interact with each other.

Colbert plays Christopher “Kit” Madden, author of "Here is Tomorrow", a massive best seller seemingly being read by the entire population. I’m not sure what it’s about, but it appears to be a love story with heavy philosophic overtones set during World War II. Madden is on her way to Hollywood to supervise the casting of the movie version (has this EVER happened in Hollywood?) and looks to have Cary Grant and Lana Turner signed for the lead roles. Grant backs out, and the picture needs a new leading man.

Madden thinks an unknown should play the male lead (shades of the search for Scarlett O’Hara) and finds the personification of her male character in the form of Rusty Thomas (John Wayne), a Marine on leave. Rusty and his Marine buddy Dink (Don DeFore) are on the same cross country train as Kit. She’s incognito, a wise choice since Rusty makes contemptuous comments on “Here is Tomorrow” which he read while convalescing at a hospital.

Rusty thinks the characters in the book spend too much time pontificating and talking. When she tries to defend the characters, a bemused Rusty says, “He’s a man, right? And she’s a woman?” He then puts his hands in the air, as if to say, “What else needs to be explained?”

After telling the studio she has the perfect guy to play the lead, she is told by the studio not to lose him. Traveling cross country by train and automobile,, the trio have many adventures and some romantic complications before all is set right back in Hollywood.

There are a few amusing cameos on hand, including Jack Benny, Dolores Moran, Louella Parsons and yes, Cary Grant. I’ve always thought it a shame that Grant and Colbert never made a movie together, especially since they were both under contract to Paramount in the early 1930s. So it’s a real treat to see them share screen time together here, even if it is for only 10 or 15 seconds. Alas, this would be their only screen appearance together.

The film is also an interesting addition in Wayne’s career. He had some of his most interesting roles in RKO films, though not always in good films. But just look at some of the films he made under the RKO logo: the very good colonial American adventure “Alleghany Uprising” (1939); the charming romantic comedy “A Lady Takes A Chance” (1943) with Jean Arthur; the exceptional mystery western “Tall in the Saddle” (1944); and playing a wife-neglecting, egotistical engineer in “Tycoon” (1947). He had a good role in the World War II drama “Flying Leathernecks” (1951), directed by Nicholas Ray, of all people.

Also released by RKO were two of his very best films, two entries in John Ford’s cavalry trilogy, “Fort Apache” (1948) and the sublime “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.” (1949).

Of course RKO was also where he made his most notorious film “The Conqueror” (1956), with Wayne as Genghis Khan. (At least the Victor Young score for it is good).

“Without Reservations” is likely the least of these RKO offerings, but it does afford Wayne the rare opportunity to star in a light romantic comedy. He’s good too, not too surprising to those of us who have seen Wayne do comedy scenes in other movies. It’s an interesting role in his career, if one of his least physical.

But Claudette seems too worldly for the role. I never bought her as a woman who philosophizes relationships the way her character does here. While not a big enough star at the time to topline a movie, I’m thinking someone like RKO contract player Barbara Hale would have been more appropriate – young enough to genuinely believe what she writes about and one who takes a wide-eyed and impressionable view of the world.

As an added bonus, there is a nice performance by one of my favorite 1940s starlets, Dona Drake. She’s very amusing as a fiery Mexican girl who takes a shine to Rusty after the trio stops at her family’s farm.

Not so appealing is Anne Triola, as Consuela “Connie” Callaghan, an annoying and painfully unfunny train passenger. I wasn’t familiar with her at all, and based on her performance here, I won’t be seeking out other performances by her anytime soon. According to IMDB she only has five films to her credit, so I won’t be missing out on much.

Secretariat In Search of a Score

2010-11-15T11:48:00.000-08:00

For me, “Secretariat” (2010) is a textbook example of what’s wrong with movies today – lack of emotion.

The story of the famous Triple Crown winner, and the obstacles overcome to make him a champion, should have been lump-in-the-throat terrific, inspirational and capable of sending us out of the theater on a wave of happiness.

Instead it just sits there, never reaching the heights it should. The acting is wonderful (Diane Lane is a standout, but then she always is), but there’s something missing. What is it?

What “Secretariat” needed was something considered taboo today: a good old fashioned, rousing, gloriously in your face, celebratory musical score.

It’s been said a good score can’t save a bad movie. True enough. But a good score can enrich a movie in so many ways and a good score can make a good film great. And a bad or mediocre score can seriously harm a movie, more than the audience may realize.

If there’s any genre that requires a surging and rousing score, it’s the triumphant sports movie genre. Confident directors know that and, to use an obvious sports metaphor, allow their composers to take the ball and run with it. Director David Anspaugh knew what we he was doing when he hired Jerry Goldsmith to score “Hoosiers” (1986) and “Rudy” (1993). You want those big musical moments in sports movies. These movies are still celebrated. I know guys who worship at the altar of “Hoosiers” and they wouldn’t have that emotional connection to that movie without Goldsmith’s efforts.

The smartest thing director Barry Levinson ever did was hire Randy Newman, who composed a landmark score for “The Natural” (1984). Newman’s musical treatment of each home run and baseball victory could raise goose bumps on a corpse, and is it little wonder Major League Baseball licensed portions of it to score highlight reels?

Director John Huston gave Bill Conti free rein to score every soccer kick, lunge, block and save in “Victory” (1981) for maximum effectiveness. Conti obliged and scored these sequences like he was composing a sports symphony. It’s thrilling beyond words.

I still remember the audience applause when all the above movies were over. The music was a major catalyst in providing that emotional release.

Alas, when Secretariat lunges forward to win the Triple Crown (hardly giving anything away here folks), there’s no surging, triumphant music to quicken the pulse and jump the heart beat. Instead we get some generic, non-rousing gospel music. It’s almost as if the director Randall Wallace, was afraid of overwhelming the audience, and told his composer, Nick Glennie-Smith, to tone down the music as much as possible. While I was able to admire the scene, I was never swept up in the emotion of it. The whole movie is like that.

Heaven help Mr. Wallace if he’d be called manipulative. We can’t have that, could we? It would never do. When did having an honest emotional response become something to be ashamed of?

I remember reading an anecdote from composer Randy Newman about his work on the period football drama “Leatherheads” (2008). He said director George Clooney didn’t like a particular cue he had written, because Clooney felt the music was overplaying the emotion in the scene, which meant he had failed as a director because he was not able to get the point across sans music.

I’ve never felt it was the music that was telling me what to think. Instead music is there to deepen the ideas and emotions that are already there. The music is providing that last link, just like lighting or photography can do in a scene, to make it a total all-encompassing experience.

Watching a lot of contemporary movies, I get the feeling that many directors feel the way Clooney does. While music is one of the most effective tools a director has at his (or her) disposal, many directors are afraid to use it, or are sparing with it.

So for me, a lot of contemporary movies just sit there, pleasant, but hardly memorable. Like “Secretariat.”

The folks at Pixar know the importance of a good score, God love ‘em, and that’s one of the main reasons why the Pixar movies are so consistently alive.

Composer Bernard Herrmann was quoted as saying, “I feel that music on the screen can seek out and intensify the inner thoughts of the characters. It can invest a scene with terror, grandeur, gaiety, or misery. It can propel narrative swiftly forward, or slow it down. It often lifts mere dialogue into the realm of poetry. Finally, it is the communicating link between the screen and the audience, reaching out and enveloping all into one single experience.” (From “Film Score, the View from the Podium” by Tony Thomas, AS. Barnes and Co., Inc., 1979).

Truer words were never spoken.

Thanks to a thoroughly mediocre score, “Secretariat” will never enter the starting gate of great sports movies. Such a champion deserved better.

Adventures in Video Store Land

2010-11-04T12:20:00.000-07:00

Back in the mid-1990s, I took seasonal work at the local Musicland store to earn a few extra bucks. They were looking for help in their video department and liked the fact I knew so much about movies. That meant less time spent looking up titles for people. Customers may have remembered the plot, or the stars, but sometimes titles of movies proved elusive.

One day, a young woman came in and asked if we had in stock a movie called “Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree.” I said I wasn’t familiar with it.

She said, “Yeah, it’s an old movie starring John Wayne.”

Aha! I knew what she meant and was able to find what she was looking for.

I have fond memories of a most jovial chap coming in and asking, “Do you have that movie where Sidney Poitier marries a white girl?” He said it was called “I Think I’m Going Out to Dinner Now.”

I suppressed a smile and told him we did have it but he had the title slightly wrong.

I remember regular Sunday afternoon visits with an older gentleman. He loved the movies and enjoyed talking about them with me. His wife wasn’t a particularly nice person and he would visit with me while she went shopping at the other stores in the mall. I think our visits were like his weekly sanctuary. His shoulders seemed to sag a little when she returned to pick him up.

Like a lot of movie buffs he was a little…odd. Very nice and completely harmless, but there was something just a little off about him.

Once he asked me if we had “Westward the Women” (1951), a really good western directed by William Wellman and starring Robert Taylor. He told me he had been looking for it forever but was never able to find it. I told him he was in luck, we had it. An odd expression crossed his face. I went to our western section, and handed it to him. He gave a half-hearted thanks and walked away. I watched him and saw him duck and then walk very fast out of the store. I went back to the western section and sure enough, there was our one copy of “Westward the Women”, back where it was before. At least he was nice enough to put it back in its proper space.

Later we were visiting and he said to me, “You know what we just saw. ‘Mr. Holland’s Opus.’ Loved it, thought it was just great. There was no violence, no sex, no bad language. It was just a pleasure to sit through.”

I told him I hadn’t seen it yet, but wanted to.

He then says to me, without no trace of irony or sarcasm, “Say I understand ‘Showgirls’ just came out on video. Did you get ‘Showgirls’ in?”’

I kept the straightest poker face in the history of the world and told him that it was priced only to rent, not for sale, but if he waited a few months, it would be priced to sell.

He said thanks and he walked away. I went into a corner of the store and laughed until my sides hurt.

Sudden Impact

2010-10-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

When one thinks of modern film noir, obvious candidates include “Chinatown” (1974) and “L.A. Confidential” (1997). An equally strong candidate is “Sudden Impact” (1983), the penultimate Dirty Harry film starring Clint Eastwood. With its vengeance-wielding femme fatale (whose musical motif is a haunting saxophone solo), a world where past sins carry enormous consequences into the present, and a setting that looks bucolic on the surface but at night turns into an unimaginable hellhole, it’s a true film noir classic.

Director Howard Hawks said a good movie has three good scenes and no bad scenes. “Sudden Impact” is loaded with good scenes throughout – and no bad scenes.

Take the film’s first 15 minutes, which play like a highlight reel of Inspector Harry Callahan’s (Clint Eastwood) career. We first have a grisly murder scene where a woman shoots a man in the genitals and forehead after a make out session in a car parked on a cliff overlooking San Francisco.

A courtroom appearance by Harry gets him a scolding from a judge offended by Harry’s tactics and potential civil rights violations of the defendant, who is immediately set free.

This is followed by a memorable scene in an elevator where the slimy defendant and his buddies taunt Harry, who grabs the guy and compares him to various forms of dog****.

Harry then confronts a Mafia leader at his granddaughter’s wedding, causing him to have a heart attack.

We then get the film’s most famous scene, where Harry gets his morning coffee at a diner (served by his old Universal 1950s contract player buddy Mara Corday) only to interrupt a robbery in progress, and uttering his famous phrase, “Go ahead, make my day.”

Of course, this is followed by the obligatory scene of Harry being criticized by his superiors for his tactics.

Violence is a way of life for Harry, who can’t walk down a street without someone trying to plug him. To get him out of town, Harry is assigned a case of a seeming serial killer (the genitals and face shots have turned up in another victim). He traces the first victim to the town of San Paulo, and this is where the film plunges headfirst into noir territory and doesn’t let up until the end.

Harry meets Jennifer Spencer (Sondra Locke), an artist who is in town to restore the hobby horses on the town’s carousel. Other bodies soon pop up in San Paulo, also shot execution style in the genitals and forehead.

I’m hardly giving anything to say that Jennifer is the killer, taking revenge on the participants of a horrendous gang rape of Jennifer and her sister, an event that left her sister institutionalized. Jennifer is an avenging angel who dispenses her own brand of justice – a kindred spirit to Harry.

On its surface, the beachfront community of San Paulo looks like the most pleasant place on Earth, but at night ugly things happen. Awful, despicable things, and a populace that turns monstrous once the sun goes down. The thing is, no one seems to care.

Harry goes to a bar for a beer and is looking for anyone who knew the first victim. All the customers start laughing when informed of their friend’s death. No small town friendliness on display here.

Harry shows up in San Paulo just in time to foil bank robbery. He later takes out a mob hit man in the halls of the local hotel.

Oddly, the local law enforcement, headed by local sheriff Pat Hingle, barely raises a shrug at the mayhem descending on the town.

We don’t even get stereotypical dialogue along the lines of, “This used to be a peaceful town until you showed up.” No, murders and violence seem to be the norm here. Harry’s presence seems almost like an afterthought to the local carnage.

The climax is a good one, with Harry taking on three thugs on a carnival boardwalk late at night. The silhouette shot of Harry standing there with his Magnum, backed by Lalo Schifrin’s first-rate musical accompaniment, is an iconic moment in Eastwood’s directing career.

By the time the movie ends, one gets the impression Harry is more than happy to leave San Paulo. In Harry’s world, small town America is every bit as vile and corrupt as the big city.

P.S. “Sudden Impact” does teach a very important life lesson, courtesy Inspector Callahan. Never, ever put ketchup on a hot dog. I haven’t done it since.

Maid of Salem

2010-10-21T08:24:00.001-07:00

Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray were a very popular screen team in Hollywood’s Golden Era. They’re not as remembered as other classic screen teams, mainly because their films have not been so readily available. Almost all their films were made at Paramount, which of all the major studios, is least represented on DVD and video, and television showings were even rarer (unless its a DeMille, Preston Sturges, Marx Bros. or W.C. Fields title). You always had to hunt for Paramount oldies.

I can remember a short period in the 1970s when Channel 44, a UHF station in Chicago, showed sub par prints of movies like Alan Ladd in “Beyond Glory” (1948) and “Chicago Deadline” (1949), and yes, Colbert and MacMurray in “The Gilded Lily” (1935). They were screened once or twice before retreating into the vaults, never to be seen again. Even with the advent of home video and cable TV, many of these titles remain elusive.

Colbert and MacMurray appeared in seven movies together between 1935 and 1949. All are in the comedy or romantic comedy genre save for one, “Maid of Salem” (1937) a highly fictionalized, though engrossing, look at the Salem witch trials.

Every stern-faced extra in Hollywood was called on to portray Salem’s villagers, self-righteous Puritans who see satanic activity in every act of kindness or every smile. When Colbert’s character enjoys a nighttime rendezvous with a man in a dark cloak, the spying villagers automatically assume its Satan himself, roaming the countryside at night and trying to corrupt every God-fearing creature in sight. (Note: it’s really secret sweetheart Fred MacMurray).

No individuality is allowed in dour Salem. Colbert is called out at Sunday services for daring to wear a colorful, frilly bonnet. Director Frank Lloyd creates some interesting lighting effect here, with Colbert ablaze with light amid her fellow Puritans. In that church scene, she’s lit like Mary in “The Song of Bernadette” (1943).

“Maid of Salem” is best appreciated for its wonderful Who’s Who roster of character actors. We enjoy ripe performances by the likes of Gale Sondergaard (an ideal, repressed Puritan), Edward Ellis, Beulah Bondi, Donald Meek, E.E. Clive, Halliwell Hobbes and Russell Simpson. Sorely missed is Charles Middleton, who was born to play a stern-visaged Puritan. I wonder why he isn’t here. We also get future Bowery Boy Bennie Bartlett, Virginia Weidler and Bonita Granville.

One of the most underrated performances from that era is Bonita Granville in “These Three” (1936), as a truly horrendous brat whose hateful gossip causes irreparable harm to three people. So good was she that she pretty much repeated the same performance a year later in “Maid of Salem” as one of the young Salem girls who fake attacks of possession and other maladies to draw attention to themselves (and to stave off boredom, no doubt).

I like both Colbert and MacMurray but they’re actually the least effective part of the movie. While both had played period before, here they seem too modern, though Colbert does make the loveliest Puritan, even when facing hanging as a witch. MacMurray overacts throughout, something long time viewers of “My Three Sons” would find unimaginable.

The film’s best performance is by Madame Sul-Te-Wan as the slave Tituba, who thinks her fortune telling activities are harmless until witch hysteria sweeps Salem. She has an unforgettable scene where she can see where her interrogation is headed, starts panicking and, wild-eyed, begins naming every name she can think of.

Director Frank Lloyd is somewhat forgotten today. I wonder if there’s some resentment at his winning the Best Director Oscar in 1933 for “Cavalcade”, a Best Picture winner that is considered one of Oscar’s most ignoble. Lack of availability of much of his work doesn’t help, though his work on the magnificent sea epic “Mutiny on the Bounty” (1935) should always be treasured.

Also worth mentioning is the production design of the film, with its recreation of Salem. Hans Drier, Paramount’s ace designer, provided a wonderful village setting. It must have cost Paramount a pretty penny, as they probably thought not much use would be gotten out of it after filming was over. Movies about colonial America rarely fared well, so Hollywood was loath to make them.

“Maid of Salem” remains a worthy effort, especially considering it was produced under the watchful eye of the Hays Office. According to the Production Code, religion and religious figures should not be portrayed in a negative light. Well that’s out the window with this film, as it suggests that the repression of the Puritans and their church-based society was largely responsible for the doings at Salem.

Postscript: Speak of the devil. Just hours after I posted this, I read that the new DVD collection under the TCM Vault Series will be titled Colbert & MacMurray Romance Collection. Due on November 15, the collection will include the aforementioned "The Gilded Lily" (1935), "The Bride Comes Home" (1935) and "Family Honeymoon" (1949).

Too Much, Too Soon

2010-10-06T09:00:00.001-07:00

I have this pleasant fantasy of Errol Flynn not dying in 1959 at the premature age of 50, but living a decade or two on. He would be one of the prime beneficiaries of the nostalgia boom that swept the country in the 1960s and early 1970s and would be justly celebrated as the great screen presence – and actor – that he was.

Always critical of the action roles he was assigned at Warner Bros., Flynn would look at back at those films and, much like frequent co-star Olivia deHavilland, realize that “We made some pretty terrific movies there. I had no idea.”

I picture an avuncular Flynn, circa 1974 or 1975, as the latest American Film Institute Life Achievement Award winner. The film clips play to a rapt house and thunderous applause greets each clip. Former co-stars pay him homage, and the younger crowd bows in worshipful adoration. Even former boss and scourge Jack Warner pays respect to his former bad boy star, and he and Flynn have put the past behind them, enjoy the occasional social drink together and reminisce about their former battles. .

The sad thing is I know exactly what he would look like as he sits at the table enjoying the AFI honor. It’s because I recently watched “Too Much, Too Soon” (1958), one of Flynn’s last pictures, and Flynn, at 48 years of age, looks much, much older. Like a 70+-year-old man would look.

In the film, the story of actress Diana Barrymore (Dorothy Malone), Flynn plays Diana’s father, the legendary John Barrymore, and he’s first rate. When Barrymore dies about halfway through, the movie never recovers and slogs its way through another hour before mercifully wrapping up.
Errol Flynn and John Barrymore were great buddies and drinking companions, so you know Flynn took extra care to deliver a good performance. And deliver he does, but boy is it hard to watch, especially when you consider only 20 years have passed since his triumph in “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938). Rather than two decades passing, Flynn’s appearance looks more like four or five decades have passed.

Much heavier and jowly, with a husky voice, there are times it looks like Flynn can barely finish a scene. Still, that magnetism is still there and can’t be denied. One can understand the adoration that Diana has for her father, who probably loved his daughter in his own way, but was too caught up in the whirlwind of his own life to give her the attention and love she desired. .

Diana Barrymore had a minor career as an actress. Her film credits are few and her starring roles were in a couple of Universal pictures I’ve never seen, “Eagle Squadron” (1942) with Robert Stack and “Between Us Girls” (1942) as the daughter of Kay Francis.

Unfortunately she suffered from the same demons as her father, and was drinking regularly to keep the pain away. The problem with the movie is she’s not that interesting a character.

Barrymore published her autobiography, “Too Much, Too Soon” in 1957, and the movie followed a year later. She did not live long to enjoy the book’s success as she died of a combined overdose of alcohol and sleeping pills in 1960. She was 38 years old. (I’ve also read she died as a result of third degree burns following a kitchen fire).

The always underrated Malone is excellent in this film, ably playing Diana as a shy little girl in awe of her famous father, to aspiring actress to the hellish spiral downward. It’s a tough and gusty performance, and I think it would be more remembered today if the film were better.

I’m sure the film is highly fictitious. There’s a scene where she and the cast and crew come out of a preview of “All Through the Night” (1942), the Bogart picture, and proclaim it an utter disaster, which will require lots of re-shooting and the eventual editing out of all of Diana Barrymore’s scenes. I’ve never heard that about that film, and can’t conceive that the well-oiled Warner Bros. machinery ever allowed the so-called disaster to be previewed like that.

Diana’s taste in men didn’t work out too well either. First husband was the much older Bramwell Fletcher, who is probably best remembered today for his role in “The Mummy” (1932), and his insane screams when he first sees the walking corpse of Im-ho-tep. In “Too Much, Too Soon” this role of the older matinee idol actor has been re-named Vincent Bryant (Efrem Zimbalist, Jr.)

Second husband was a tennis player named John Howard, played in the movie by a spectacularly oily Ray Danton. I don’t know what Howard was like in real life, but here he’s portrayed as the ultimate Hollywood leech. (In reality, Howard was convicted of later participating in white slavery!)

A third husband was Robert Wilcox, played here by Edward Kemmer. According to the Wikipedia entry on Diana Barrymore, “Diana might have found Wilcox to be the love of her life, but he nearly beat her to death in one of his assaults.” Boy, that name sounded familiar. Didn’t Robert Wilcox star in a Republic serial? I looked him up and sure enough, Robert Wilcox played the hero Copperhead in the great Republic serial “Mysterious Doctor Satan.” (1940). The Copperhead a wife beater? Very disheartening and I don’t know if I will be ever to enjoy that serial like I have in the past. I always try to separate the person from the actor, but wife beating is very tough to forgive.

The film was directed by Art Napoleon, and it’s only of three films he directed. It’s not very well directed, overall. The 121-minute running time really drags, but there are individual sequences that are very well done.

Early in the film, the young Diana, so happy to be with her father on a fishing trip, talks and talks and talks the whole time, and we can see John trying so hard not to tell her to be quiet. They’re sitting on the deck at night when another boat approaches. We never see who is on the boat, just the boat’s outline through the fog. It’s like a ghost ship, a metaphor for the eternal wanderlust in John Barrymore’s heart. We hear voices from the boat. They’re social acquaintances of John, and they invite him to come to Rio with them for additional festivities. Barrymore looks wistfully at his daughter before swimming away from his boat to join the party, waving goodbye to Diana.

There’s also a painful scene were a drunken Diana performs an impromptu striptease to a bored and jaded audience.

Helping the film enormously is the score by Ernest Gold, with a highly dramatic piano-based theme showcased throughout. Flynn was remarkably lucky with his musical accompaniment throughout his career, and always received good musical support.

There was talk of a possible Supporting Actor nomination for Flynn for “The Sun Also Rises” (1957) but it didn’t come to pass. A Supporting Actor nom would have been appropriate for “Too Much, Too Soon” as well. He’s that good in it.

You can have a good film with bad things in it, and a bad film with good things in it. “Too Much, Too Soon” has two very good performances in a very mediocre film.

Remembering the Dolton Theater

2010-09-16T11:52:00.001-07:00

Growing up, my main movie going theater was the second-run Dolton Theater in Dolton, IL, a working class suburb in Chicago’s south suburbs, and just south of the city’s limits. For better or worse (but mostly better), the Dolton helped shape my movie tastes, thanks to an amazing variety of movies they screened. It was a neighborhood theater in the best sense, a place where one would run into neighbors, friends, classmates and people you would recognize from the grocery store and church.

“Glee” star Jane Lynch is a Dolton native and has spoken with affection of the many hours she spent at the Dolton Theater. Since she’s only two years older than me, I wonder if we ever attended the same shows together?

Opened in 1913 as a nickelodeon with 300 seats, the Dolton was expanded to almost 500 seats in the 1940s. It would have been nice to consider its centennial celebration in a few years, but alas, the Dolton closed its doors as a movie theater in 1999 and is now a night club.

Distribution patterns were so much more different then. The Dolton would bring back old favorites that were a hit, or book an older movie as the supporting feature on a twin bill. It might be weeks, months, or even a year before a movie would lazily make its way to the Dolton.

The Dolton Theater wasn’t fancy or ornate, but was a magical place for many, and still holds a special place of affection for its former customers.

Outside the theater along the wall were spaces for three or four posters showing what was coming in the weeks ahead. These images were mouth watering (enticing poster art is a lost art form today) and often a highlight of going to the Dolton was seeing what new posters were up.

One of my readers, Scott, fondly shared his views with me once in the comments section of this blog:

I spent many a night (and matinee) in Dolton Theater, in the early-mid 70s. I fondly remember the old watered down automatic pop machines that spouted 80% water first, then a dollop of syrup…the little washroom to the left at the entrance, with 1920s fixtures…the little concession stand with the ever-running old popcorn machine…the sticky floors…the stage in front of the screen, where they actually performed vaudeville in the 1920s…the terra cotta tile façade, and the little ticket window in front, with a usually crabby old lady ticket taker….the time that the Dolton Theater jumped the shark and went discount (dollar shows)….and on and on…thought you’d get a kick out of those, Kev!

Apart from home and school, I think I spent more time at the Dolton than any other place. I think I was born a movie buff; always have been in some strange, supernatural way.

Very Early Memories

I guess a time frame is called for. I was born in 1962, and from what my parents tell me, we went to the Dolton a lot, even when I was mere tot. I know parents shouldn’t bring a child under five or six to the show, but they said I was always very well behaved, and never fussed or was antsy. They told me we went to a Beatles double feature of “A Hard Day’s Night” (1964) and “Help” (1965), but I don’t remember. The only time they can remember me being antsy was during “The Train” (1965), a WWII flick with Burt Lancaster. We had been to the museum earlier that day and I was tired and cranky, and we left before the movie was over. Other than that, they don’t remember me making a fuss. I must have been born with the movie buff gene.

Another plus was seeing movies in color. Odd, but true. We didn’t get a color TV until 1978 or so when I was a sophomore in high school, so going to the movies meant seeing them in color. (It’s also why I have no aversion to black and white movies or TV shows, it’s what I grew up watching).

Like most people in our neighborhood, we did not have air conditioning at home, so the Dolton Theater offered a cool oasis on hot summer days and nights.

The first kiddie matinee I can vividly remember seeing was a double feature of “Tarzan and the Great River” (1967) and “Blackbeard’s Ghost (1968). It was memorable because pretty much every kid on our block went. Considering there were almost 50 pre- and grade-school on our block meant a lot of kids. But it was a happy occurrence when someone made the suggestion to go and almost all the kids joined in. A veritable armada of cars dropped off us 40+ kids for a memorable afternoon. Our group took up several rows of seats. Two of the older girls who were in the fifth grade agreed to chaperone us. It must have been the quietest day ever on our block, and Heaven for the parents. We tried to do it later, but it just never seemed to work except for that one time.

Kiddie matinees were a staple at the Dolton, where they showed a wide variety of flicks for us, from Disney live-action flicks and cartoons to Jerry Lewis movies and everything in between. I even remember seeing “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” (1963) at a matinee. Toho offerings included “Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster” (1971) and “Destroy All Monsters.” (1969).

I can remember an afternoon with all the neighborhood kids seeing “Patton” (1970). After the movie we all tried to recreate Patton’s opening speech before the flag. It was a hoot (though I’m sure we had no comprehension of what we were saying).

In 1971, I saw my first John Wayne movie, “Big Jake” and it was life changing. It played on a double feature with a European-produced pirate flick called “The Light at the Edge of the World” (1971) with Kirk Douglas and Yul Brynner. Since that was based on a novel by Jules Verne, I had to see it. (The Family Classics Sunday afternoon movie show on WGN-TV made Verne very familiar to me). I didn’t care about the western at all, and wanted to see the Verne flick, which turned out to be incredibly gory and unpleasant. But I loved “Big Jake”, and it made me a John Wayne and western fan to this day. It’s still probably my favorite John Wayne movie.

I saw that with a friend of mine on a hot summer evening. Later that year another friend and I saw a double feature of “The Omega Man” with Charlton Heston and “Man in the Wilderness” with Richard Harris. We got dropped off at the show and got picked up when it was over.

Today, if a parent dropped off a pair of unaccompanied nine-year-olds at the theater they would probably be arrested for child abuse. But the parents never gave it a second thought. Different times I guess, and the neighborhood movie theater was considered a safe place.

The Duke at the Dolton

Since “Big Jake” made such a huge impression on me I always had to go see the Duke’s latest films there. I remember seeing “The Cowboys” (1972) on a double bill with a WWI flick called “Zeppelin” (1971) with Michael York and Elke Sommer.

The cop flick “McQ” (1974) played with “Paper Moon” (1974). My brother and I didn’t care about the latter, but went for the Duke.

I’ve written in the past about his other cop movie “Brannigan” (1975) playing with Peckinpah’s “The Killer Elite” (1975). I remember a packed Saturday night crowd watching “Rooster Cogburn” (1975) with a George Peppard cop flick called “Newman’s Law” (1975), a film I’ve never seen since on TV and I don’t know if it was ever released to video. I saw a classmate of mine at the show and asked her in school the following Monday how she liked the show. She thought the Wayne flick was only OK, but her and her family really liked “Newman’s Law.” I knew I wouldn’t be marrying her.

Horror and Sci-Fi Heaven

I saw most of the “Planet of the Apes” movies there. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the original there. My dad was going to take me to see “Beneath the Planet of the Apes” (1970) but we were in a car accident the week before and were without a car. Very annoying. He made it up by taking me the following week to see the astronauts-in-crisis flick “Marooned” (1969), which was OK, but wasn’t the same as talking apes.

“Escape from the Planet of the Apes” (1971) played as a single feature. “Conquest of the Planet of the Apes” (1972) played with “Ben” (1972), the “Willard” (1971) sequel, and I think half of my school was there that Saturday afternoon.

The final film, “Battle for the Planet of the Apes” (1973) played with a western called “Culpepper Cattle Company” (1972), a really gritty western that was pretty violent for its time. I remember it being pretty good though, and pleasantly surprised. Scanning the newspaper ads, I noticed a lot of the neighborhood theaters in the Chicago area paired “Battle” with a Lee Van Cleef western called “Captain Apache” (1971), which sounded much more appealing than “Culpepper Cattle Company.” I thought the Dolton got the short end of the stick. But we wound up liking Culpepper, and I wouldn’t mind re-visiting it on DVD one day.

Speaking of “Willard” I know I saw that at the Dolton, but I can’t remember what it paired with. It could have been the British horror anthology “The House that Dripped Blood” (1971) or the Filipino “Twilight People” (1971). Yep, the Dolton even played Filipino horror flicks.

I fondly remember seeing “Tales from the Crypt” (1971) paired with Vincent Price in “The Abominable Dr. Phibes” (1971). Was this the greatest double feature I saw as a kid? It could have been.

Despite my love for horror movies, and the Dolton played a lot of them, I never saw a Hammer movie there, to my regret.

After subjecting the family to a viewing of the great “Count Yorga, Vampire” (1970) on a family vacation day, the mater and pater were genuinely appalled at what showed up in this PG-rated flick, so I was forbidden to see its sequel, “The Return of Count Yorga” (1971) and its co-feature, “The Dunwich Horror” (1969) when it played at the Dolton. The kid across the street went, and I remember grilling him forever about both films.

The one double feature which was brought back to the Dolton on a regular basis was “Soylent Green” (1973) and “Westworld” (1973). Unfortunately I never saw them there. That particular double feature was a perpetual sell-out and I never could get in to see them. I think when the Dolton’s booker didn’t like what he was being offered, he would bring those two back because he knew he was assured a full week of customers.

Occasionally my dad would take turns taking my brother and me to the show. My dad and brother saw a good double feature of “Kelly’s Heroes” (1970) and “Skyjacked.” (1972). Me, I dragged dad to see the animal terror flicks “Frogs” (1972) (surprisingly good, though I can remember my dad muttering, “What is Ray Milland doing in this?”) and “Stanley” (1972). “Stanley” is….think a low budget “Willard” with rattlesnakes.

The Empire Pictures double bill of “Ghoulies” (1985) and “The Dungeonmaster” (1984) wasn’t very good, but reminded me of the days when I was a kid happily lapping up the latest offerings from American International Pictures.

Not Everything Was Horror

A particularly enjoyable double feature was a Spaghetti western/comedy pairing of “They Call Me Trinity” (1970) and “Trinity is Still My Name” (1971). I haven’t seen them since, but have very fond memories of both. A later Spaghetti western with Trinity star Terence Hill and Henry Fonda was “My Name is Nobody” (1973). I wish I can remember what that was paired with but I can’t. Great film, though.

I have never heard laughter in a movie theater like I heard when “The Pink Panther Strikes Again” (1976) and “The Revenge of the Pink Panther” (1978) played to a capacity crowd one happy Saturday night. Almost 500 people laughing in unison at the top of their lungs is an experience I will never forget.

The Dolton also played the occasional revival, so I was fortunate to see on the big screen, for the first time, “Gone with the Wind” (1939) and “The Ten Commandments” (1956). I even remember a double feature of “Hercules” (1959) and “Hercules Unchained” (1960) on a Saturday afternoon and why those were brought back I can’t remember.

Not everything showed at the Dolton was a double feature. When management knew a good feature would play on its own it did. The classic disaster movies of the era, like “Airport” (1970), “The Poseidon Adventure” (1972), “Earthquake” (1974), “Airport 1975” (1974) and “The Towering Inferno” (1974) all played to maximum crowds.

In the 1980s, new management stayed with the single feature format, but would have a double feature attraction once a month. It didn’t matter if the movies went together, he played what he could get at the time. That’s why one of the oddest double features I ever saw was in 1985: “Agnes of God” and “Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins.” Like pickles and milk, but I enjoyed both and I think the audience did too.

Dolton audiences were genuinely very well behaved, but there was something in the air the night in 1981 when I saw “Absence of Malice” and “Arthur.” The crowd was really unruly and making all kinds of disturbance. I left in disgust about 20 minutes into “Arthur.” That was probably the most unpleasant time I ever had there.

Occasionally the Dolton would play an art house type film. I remember them showing Bergman’s “Cries and Whispers” (1972) and even thinking then how odd it was for the Dolton to be showing a subtitled Swedish movie. Maybe the management did to cleanse their palate of all the horror and action movies they showed?

For a time in the ‘70s, the Dolton showed X-rated movies. Management got a lot of flack for that, but he said he needed to show those because he had full houses for those and paid for the regular movies. I didn’t believe him because the Dolton was always crowded.

Car Chases Galore

The Dolton also seemingly played every Burt Reynolds and Peter Fonda car chase and action flicks ever made. I think “Smokey and the Bandit” (1977) played for weeks there.

One of my fondest movie going memories is “Race with the Devil” (1975) with Peter Fonda and Warren Oates having their RV vacation interrupted when they witness a human sacrifice at a Satanic ceremony. The TV ads were mouth watering, and every kid at school was chomping to see this. Sure enough, that Saturday afternoon I think every kid in the neighborhood was there. We had a great time. The film’s studio, Twentieth Century Fox, paired it with the cerebral thriller “The Nickel Ride” and two more different films I can’t imagine. But we waited until it was over so we could finally see what we came for. We weren’t disappointed.

First-Run Treats

Despite being a second-run theater, the Dolton would occasionally play a first-run movie, in those instances when the distributor could not book first-run theater play dates and were forced to debut at the neighborhood movie theaters. The Kirk Douglas western “Posse” (1975) played at the Dolton in its opening week. Of course I went.

A particularly enjoyable first-run double feature was “At the Earth’s Core” (1976) and “The Food of the Gods” (1976). I was particularly excited about the former, because it was a real treat to see the new Peter Cushing movie at the Dolton. I can remember going on Friday night with some friends, and even though we found the special effects in both very tacky, we didn’t mind and the audience had a great time.

“Buck Rogers in the 25th Century” (1979) also played first-run at the Dolton and I can remember the opening credit sequence filled with all a variety of scantily clad space beauties. When the film showed on TV, it was with (unfortunately) a new credit sequence.

The Dolton Theater was not as ornate or garish as the great movie palaces in Chicago, but for those of us fortunate to have experienced it, it was a little slice of Heaven.

Thousands Cheer

2010-09-02T12:23:00.001-07:00

Thanks to its incredible roster of musical talent, M-G-M should lead the pack of WWII all-star musicals with its offering “Thousands Cheer” (1943). But for me it’s probably my least favorite title of this select group.

Oh, it’s not a bad film by any means, and it’s often quite enjoyable. A couple of the numbers are quite good. For instance, Lena Horne singing “Honeysuckle Rose” with the Benny Carter Band is terrific (and was featured in the first “That’s Entertainment” (1974) movie.) But too many of the numbers are only average, there are some painfully unfunny comedy sketches and there’s a final number, composed by Dmitri Shostakovich, no less, that is cringe-inducing in the worst way.

There isn’t much story in “Thousands Cheer”, but that’s OK, since most of these all-star musicals aren’t known for their scripts.

In only his fourth film, Gene Kelly plays Private Eddie Marsh, who falls in love with Kathryn Jones (Kathryn Grayson), a singer who is responsible for providing entertainment for the soldiers. She’s also the daughter of Marsh’s commanding officer (John Boles). Kathryn tries to re-connect her divorced parents (mom is Mary Astor) while trying to knock Eddie’s chip off his soldier. She’s also responsible for putting on a big show at the local army camp, which just happens to be all talent under contract to M-G-M at the time.

The best number in the film is not one of the show numbers, but a dance number Kelly does with a mop. The aforementioned Lena Horne number is great, and there’s an infectious song called “I Dug a Ditch” which is performed several times throughout the movie, most notably by the Kay Kyser Band.

For me, though, the numbers are pretty banal, a surprise coming from M-G-M. Judy Garland does “The Joint is Really Jumping Down at Carnegie Hall”, and it will never make any Garland highlight reels.

The final number is a prescient tribute about a United Nations, with Grayson singing about “making a new way for tomorrow” accompanied by male choruses representing different Allied countries. (Since the real United Nations was not formed until after WWII, the song can be seen as a preview of what everyone wanted the world to look like once the war was over).

Shostakovich is credited for the song in the opening credits, but surely he wasn’t commissioned by M-G-M for the song. Did Stalin even let his prized composer leave the country, during time of war no less?

A quick check on the Internet shows the song was originally called “Song of the Counterplan” for a 1932 Soviet film called “Counterplan.” Even with new lyrics, it sounds exactly like one of those pieces Shostakovich wrote to placate and keep Stalin happy, and since it kept Shostakovich alive, I guess I can’t complain too much about the song. Uncle Joe was no doubt pleased, the rest of us less so.

For me, I’ll take the finale to “Star Spangled Rhythm” (1942), with Bing Crosby singing “Old Glory.” “Star Spangled Rhythm” boasts everything lacking in “Thousands Cheer”- breeziness, no attempts at faux-culture, a great song score (“That Old Black Magic and “Time to Hit the Road to Dreamland”) and good comedy.

I also prefer the two Warner Bros. entries, “Thank Your Lucky Stars” (1943) and “Hollywood Canteen” (1944). They’re much livelier and engaging. Universal had a good one in “Follow the Boys” (1944) and United Artists produced “Stage Door Canteen” (1943), which was an East Coast version of the Hollywood Canteen. Frank Borzage directed the latter, and it’s quite an affecting movie. Unfortunately it has fallen into the public domain and is now available in copies of varying quality. I hope a pristine version shows up somewhere.

Fox and Columbia did not produce any all-star musicals, though Fox came close with “Four Jills in a Jeep” (1944), a highly fictionalized look at a traveling USO show.

The one all-star musical title that remains maddingly elusive is Paramount’s “Duffy’s Tavern” (1945). I can’t remember this ever showing up on TV, and has not been made available on VHS or DVD. I’m hoping it turns up on TCM one day. I would love to see it.

The Bandit of Sherwood Forest

2010-08-17T10:08:00.001-07:00

Columbia Pictures’ “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest” (1946) is a pretty entertaining addition to the Sherwood Forest canon. It’s not as good as the Flynn or Fairbanks films, but better than the Kevin Costner and Russell Crowe entries. Fans of the “The Adventures of Robin Hood” are likely to be especially entertained, thanks to its numerous ties to that 1938 classic.

Cornel Wilde brought his real life fencing skills to the role of Robert of Nottingham, the son of the famous Robin Hood (Russell Hicks, who looks to be having a ball). Robert joins his father’s gang, including such favorites as Edgar Buchanan as Friar Tuck, John Abbott as Will Scarlett and Ray Teal as Little John, to save of the life of the Queen (Jill Esmond), and her young son the King (Maurice Tauzin) from the evil machinations of the Regent (Henry Daniell, a useful substitute when Basil Rathbone is not around).

Among other dastardly deeds, The Regent plans to negate the Magna Carta, a key story line in the Russell Crowe version.

Robert falls in love with Catherine (Anita Louise), lady-in-waiting to the Queen. It’s very interesting to see Anita Louise here, as at one time she was scheduled to play Maid Marian opposite Errol Flynn, before wiser heads cast Olivia deHavilland in what would be one of her signature roles.

There are other comparisons to the Flynn version. “Bandit” composer Hugo Friedhofer was one of the orchestrators for Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Academy Award-winning score for the “The Adventures of Robin Hood.” Several of the cues do sound like they could have been included in the Flynn film. Indeed, his score is an exuberant one and is more than adequate to support the more modest scope of this version. (1946 was also the year Friedhofer won the Academy Award for Best Score for “The Best Years of Our Lives.”)

Lloyd Corrigan plays the Sheriff of Nottingham in the same buffoon fashion as Melville Cooper did. (Did the Sheriff being played for laughs begin with the Errol Flynn version?)

The biggest similarity is the final scene. I don’t think I’m giving anything away here when I say both films enjoy a happy ending, though I was surprised at how similar the endings were. Both films end with a grateful king knighting the hero and with Robin/Robert and Marian/Catherine standing before the king, who asks if the two love each other and would take each other in marriage.

Though eight years separated the films, “The Adventures of Robin Hood” was one of the most popular films in the Warner Bros. library, and was constantly being re-issued. Mindful of this, it’s no wonder Columbia Pictures saw a new Robin Hood film as a perfect vehicle for Cornel Wilde, its new contract player. Wilde was in real-life a champion fencer who was a member of the U.S. Olympics fencing team. He would have participated in the 1936 Olympics had not he left the team to pursue acting. Wilde makes a dashing hero, and his final duel with Daniell is a good one.

As masterful a villain as he could be, Daniell was no fencer and had to be extensively doubled in his dueling scenes. On “The Sea Hawk” (1940), Daniell was so ineffective that director Michael Curtiz said it took forever to film close-ups where it would appear he was dueling.

Columbia had a big hit with “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest”, which earned more than $3 million at the box office. 1946 was one of Hollywood’s biggest years ever. The war was over, and GIs were returning home to start families and carve out new lives for themselves. Going to the movies was an even bigger past time than ever, and 1946 saw attendance hit record peaks. Pretty much everything made money that year, but $3 million for a modestly budgeted swashbuckler is pretty impressive. Wilde had a huge hit the year before playing Chopin in “A Song to Remember” and was the new heart throb. In addition to the action and romance, however, I think another big factor in the film’s success was the Technicolor.

I’m not an expert on color photography, but it seems to me that Columbia and 20th Century Fox were the experts when it came to Technicolor films. Even today their color films from this period have an added vitality to them that were lacking at other studios. I can’t put my finger on it, but their colors are exceptionally vivid. (Too vivid some may say, but not me. I love my three-strip Technicolor).

The film’s credits list two directors, George Sherman and Henry Levin. I would be curious to find out what happened, as two credited directors on a film was unusual for the time. (Actually it still is today). Sherman directed a lot of B westerns at Republic, so I assume that the opening scenes of the Merry Men riding throughout the forest gathering forces as they go were directed by him.

No earth shaker but an enjoyable film, “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest” will likely retain its place in the upper echelon of Robin Hood movies.