THE ROCKET FROM CALABUCH (1956)

Prof. Hamilton (Edmund Gwenn), an American rocket scientist, is unhappy that his work is being used for warlike ends, so he walks away one day and secretly goes to the Spanish island of Calabuch to live a simple existence. When he arrives on the beach, Juan, a small-time smuggler, sends him into the village to take a small package to a man nicknamed Lobster. Lobster happens to be in jail, and the police chief (and military leader) Matias throws Hamilton in jail with Lobster, assuming he's a smuggler as well. Matias seems like a hard ass at first (we see him marching soldiers dressed in ancient Roman garb about town in an army drill), but it turns out not so much: the lock on Lobster's jail cell is broken, so Lobster and Hamilton can basically come and go at will—and because Lobster is the only projectionist in town, his presence is necessary on movie night. We meet the various charming and eccentric inhabitants of the town, including Matias's daughter Teresa who plans to elope with Juan; Elisa, the schoolteacher who has her students sing their multiplication tables; Vicente, who takes days to paint a name on a canoe on the beach; Fermin, a sad sack soldier left out in the elements to guard against an imagined threat from the sea. There is also a lighthouse keeper who plays chess over the phone with the village priest; a bullfighter to comes to the village for a festival with an older, lazy bull who manages to chase the bullfighters into the sea, and a fireworks maker who ends up getting some help from Hamilton for a festival display that they hope will win the village a prize. As in other movies filled with odd but good-hearted townspeople (Ealing comedies like TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT and WHISKY GALORE, any number of Frank Capra movies, the TV show Northern Exposure), there aren't really any bad guys, and everyone comes together at the end to try and save the outsider from a menacing force—in this case, the US government helicopter that arrives to take Hamilton back home.

I was unfamiliar with the Spanish director Luis Garcia Berlanga, but he displays a fine, light touch here; you occasionally expect things to move in the direction of magical realism, but it never goes that far. Gwenn, in his last film role, is fine, often coming off in personality like Kris Kringle (MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET), even going so far as to play matchmaker for Lobster and the schoolteacher. It's disappointing that, though it appears that Gwenn is reciting his lines in Spanish, a different actor dubs him, who sounds nothing like Gwenn. The only other actor I was familiar with is the Italian Valentina Cortese as Elisa. Lobster, the main secondary character, is played well by the handsome and charismatic Franco Fabrizi. The various plotlines are easy to follow, though I never figured out what was up with the Roman garb in the opening scene. This is a light and charming film (which is predictable in its unpredictability, if that makes sense) that should be better known. Pictured are Fabrizi and Gwenn. [Criterion Channel]

SADDLES AND SAGEBRUSH (1943)

Cowboy Lucky Randall (Russell Hayden) is hangin' with a gang of singin' cowboys (Bob Willis and the Texas Playboys) when he gets an offer to work as a hired gun and bodyguard for Krag Savin (William Wright) in the frontier town of Pinon City. Savin claims he needs protection from a group of violent squatters living illegally on land outside the town, but Lucky's comic relief sidekick Cannonball (Dub Taylor) thinks the setup sounds suspicious so he follows Lucky. In Pinion City, Savin says that Lafe Parker is stirring up the squatters and needs to be fought, and he sends his men to the Parker ranch to set fire to the land. Lafe goes into town looking for a showdown with Savin but is wounded by Blackie, a Savin henchman. Lucky and Cannonball get the lowdown from Parker and his daughter Ann (Ann Savage). The squatters are actually legitimate homesteaders, but Savin and his men have been rustling cattle and fencing off grazing land in an attempt to claim the land for themselves. Lucky shifts his allegiance to Parker and Ann, deals with an ambush by Savin's thugs (resulting in two of them shot and two of them captured by lasso) and sends a telegram to the state capitol to find out the legal status of the land. Knowing the reply will confirm the free range status of the land, Savin's men rob the mail stagecoach that contains the reply. Lucky, Cannonball and Ann seem to be defeated, but Bob Willis and his gang arrive to help save the day.

At less than an hour (and with at least ten minutes taken up with songs), this B-western zips along quickly. It's nothing special but it's a good example of its genre, the singing cowboy western. It is predictable but there is a certain pleasure in watching the gears turn, as there is with most genre films. Russell Hayden does not cut a particularly strong heroic figure (he could be sturdier and better looking) but he's OK. Ann Savage, who hit B-film femme fatale icon status thanks to a fierce performance in DETOUR, is fairly bland here. You just have to go with flow as far as Bob Willis and company, well known performers of Western swing who released over 100 singles during their career, with a handful hitting #1 on the country charts. They perform five songs here, including "Hubbin' It," which was used as the title for a biography of Willis. I'm not sure what that phrase means; it seems to be a version of "keep on keepin' on' or "humping" in terms of struggling along with a heavy load: "It's your wagon load / Keep right on hubbin' it / Down that lonesome road." The songs don't further the plot, they're just like little distractions. William Wright, a B-actor who was in around 40 movies in the 1940s, is a little wooden as Savin. I very much liked Dub Taylor as Cannonball. He was in hundreds of movies and TV shows, and I think of him as a classic-era M. Emmet Walsh. Takeaway line, in defense of the settlers: "It's the sweat of the little man that makes this country great." Pictured are Hayden and Taylor. [YouTube]

HERCULES AND HYLAS AGAINST THE CAT-MEN OF MERCURY (1962)

Burly Hercules and his young blond ward Hylas are enjoying a relaxing swim on the shore of Photia Island when a contingent of battered and tattered men from the town of Phallogos beg for help. Cat-human mutants—full grown men with cat faces and furry bodies—have been ransacking the town at night and hiding in the hills in the daytime. No one knows where they came from, though guards Stephanus and Gordano reported seeing a bright light in the sky the night before the first attack. Those who have tried to stop or capture them wind up hypnotized into immobility by the swishing of the Cat-Men's tails. Even worse, Queen Newmara has apparently fallen in love with one of the Cat-Men, Felixus, and is rumored to be planning to let the city be overrun by the mutants. Hercules and Hylas accompany the men back to the city where Hylas is immediately kidnapped by the Cat-Men and held for ransom in the hills. Queen Newmara takes Hercules' mind off of rescuing Hylas by mixing him cocktails made with the Gin of Forgetfulness and making out with him in the daytime even as she hides the hairy, lithe Felixus as her midnight lover, leaving poor King Reg lots of time for his hobby, astronomy. But it is Reg who discovers strange flashes of light coming from the planet Mercury, apparently in communication with Earth. Could the Cat-Men have arrived from Mercury as a pre-invasion force? And can Hercules pry himself from the charms of Newmara to save both Hylas and the city?

This may be the first science fiction peplum movie (but not the last, with HERCULES AGAINST THE MOON MEN coming two years later), though some argue that 1956’s FIRE MAIDENS FROM OUTER SPACE was more peplum than sci-fi. The planet Mercury wasn't officially recognized until the 1500s, but it's called by that name here—of course, when have muscleman movies ever been sticklers for facts? If you take away the element of alien invaders, this is a run-of-the-mill sword and sandal movie: oiled, muscled men in togas; evil queens in flowing robes, a populace in trouble. One difference: the shiny silver spaceship, hidden in the hills, in which Hylas is held captive. Mark Forest is an impressively muscled Hercules; Angelo Zanolli, with his hair dyed silver blond, is a cute but broody Hylas. In myth, Hercules and Hylas were lovers, though that is mostly covered up here, except for the hints we get from the way Herc melts when Hylas bats his baby blues at him. And, of course, there's the final scene: with Queen Newmara packed away in the silver spaceship which Hercules flings back into the heavens, Herc picks up Hylas and takes him to the royal bedroom where, as far as we know, Felixus is still present and waiting for company. Cassandra Cassamassima, in her only screen credit, is appropriately buxom and flirty as the queen. Pictured are Zanolli and Forest. This is getting a special April 1st airing on TCM so catch it while you can.

I VITELLONI (1953)

It's a night at the end of summer in a small coastal Italian town. Miss Mermaid is being chosen at an outdoor festival, and we meet the "vitelloni" (variously translated as calves, idlers, loafers, or slackers) of the title: Fausto, the handsome self-styled ladies man and group leader; Leopoldo, the glasses-wearing intellectual and would-be playwright; Riccardo, a singing tenor; Alberto, a somewhat childlike, lighthearted guy; and the narrator, Moraldo, the youngest of the group but also the quietest and most thoughtful. These guys, despite having some ambitions, are all in their mid-to-late 20s and still live with their families. Moraldo's sister Sandra wins the Miss Mermaid award but faints as she has the sash put on. We realize this is movie shorthand for 'pregnant,' and Fausto, the impregnator, is forced by his father to do right by the girl; the father says Fausto will marry Sandra "if I have to kick your ass all the way to church." Reluctantly, he does, and while in Rome on his honeymoon, the gang is a bit adrift. Leopoldo calls Fausto a man of passions, but Alberto says he's just horny. Leopoldo, who lives with his aunts and types out his plays into the night, carries on a tentative flirtation with a neighbor girl from their windows. Riccardo is concerned with his growing gut. Alberto has to sneak drinks out of sight of his mother and sister, who has her own secret: she's stepping out with a married man. Moraldo walks the city streets alone at 3 a.m. and strikes up a friendship with a teenage boy who is also out at three on his way to his job as a luggage handler at the train station. Fausto returns with a mustache (which is big news in the village) and Sandra's father gets him a job at an antique gift shop, but it's not long before Fausto is back to his flirtatious ways, first with his boss’s wife and later with a dolled-up high class woman he sits next to at the theater (flirting even with his wife right next to him). 

Come winter, the most exciting events in their lives involve facial hair: Riccardo grows a mustache, Leopoldo grows a goatee, and Alberto gets sideburns. But soon, after Fausto is fired for his flirty behavior (he has always considered the job menial but it brought money into his household), he and Moraldo plot a revenge robbery: stealing a large angel statue from the store's warehouse—their attempt at carting it around trying to sell it to local churches is amusing. When an famous but washed-up older actor comes to town, Riccardo sends him a copy of one of his plays and the actor wants to meet with him to talk about producing it. But the actor gets drunk, takes him down to the nighttime docks and makes a pass at him. Alberto gets obnoxiously drunk at a big party and later feels helpless when his sister goes against his advice about her affair. Finally, after the birth of Sandra's baby, Fausto spends the night with an actress; Sandra gets wind of it and disappears, leaving the five buddies to set out in search of her.

This early film from Federico Fellini looks and feels like none of his later movies from the 60s that made him an international name—one party scene, involving drunks and huge papier-maché heads, does feel like later Fellini. In many ways, it's a traditional coming of age story, though the characters are much older than is usual for this genre. It's unclear at the end if any of them have really grown. The narrator, Moraldo, gets the gumption to leave town in the final scene, but we don't know how much getting out of town will actually affect him. Though we see much of the action through his eyes, and the actor playing him, Franco Interlenghi, gives perhaps the best and most subtle performance, his character is the least developed. Some critics read the film as semi-autobiographical, in which case Moraldo's gift for observation may be what will serve him in his future as a filmmaker. Very few viewers take note of some gay subtext with the character. His first meeting with the teenage Guido definitely has the feel of an awkward after-hours pick-up, and Moraldo is the only one of the idlers who never seems interested in women. Moraldo is our way into the lives of these men, but Fausto is treated as the main character and Franco Fabrizi is excellent in the role; he’s attractive and generally remains sympathetic despite his caddishness, though some IMDb critics would absolutely disagree with me. While we don't condone his behavior, he also does not come across as deliberately hurtful (he does try to shield Sandra from his behavior), and there is a certain adolescent innocence in the way he acts on his urges, though of course we know he should have grown out of that years ago (his age is explicitly given as 30). Alberto Sordi (Alberto) went on to a very long career, known largely as a comic actor. Leopoldo Trieste is Leopoldo, Riccardo Fellini, the director’s brother, is Riccardo, and Leonora Ruffo is Sandra, and they are all fine. The five idlers have great chemistry and the film feels realistic without being grittily naturalistic. I had avoided this film in the past, never quite being in the mood for a dreary kitchen-sink film but my pre-judging was wrong and it's quite enjoyable. Pictured at left are Fabrizi and Interlenghi. [TCM]

BOMBER'S MOON (1943)

During WWII, American bomber pilot Jeff Dakin (George Montgomery), flying for the British, is trying to return to England after getting attacked in the air over Belgium. He tells his younger brother Danny, the bomb sighter, to use his parachute to escape the damaged plane, but as he falls, Danny is shot and killed by German pilot Streicher, who seems to take great delight in the killing. Jeff bails out, is captured, recovers from his injuries and is sent to a prison camp for officers. He is cared for by Russian nurse Alexandra (Annabella) and becomes buddies with Paul (Kent Taylor), a Czech prisoner who is planning an escape. The three manage to get out during an air raid and make their way to the home of Nazi economist Prof. Mueller who is actually a resistance leader who gives them papers and plans for getting out to Holland. But as they're about to leave, Paul is revealed to be a Nazi spy who kills Mueller and calls a Gestapo colonel to come and get Jeff and Alexandra. The two get away and pose as a married couple to get to Rotterdam where they make contact with another resistance fighter before the last leg of their trip to England. But when Jeff discovers that Nazi pilot Streicher is about to take off on a spy trip to assassinate Winston Churchill, he stays behind and poses as a German flier in an attempt to stop the assassination and to get revenge for his brother. This war film is thoroughly average and wastes an evocative title (it's referenced briefly at the beginning and end; it refers to a clear night with a bright full moon) and a good lead actor. I usually like Montgomery as a B-movie lead but he feels tamped down here by the script and direction. Certainly the storyline has promise, but the fairly quick pace of the proceedings, usually a plus in B-films, doesn’t allow much character or plot development. Annabella is OK in a mostly thankless role, Kent Taylor is also OK, and Martin Kosleck, one of Hollywood’s go-to Nazis, is a little better but his role is too small. The director of credit is Charles Fuhr, a pseudonym for three directors (mostly Edward Ludwig) and that may be one reason why the movie doesn't quite come together. Still, it's relatively painless and fans of George Montgomery (pictured) will like this enough. [YouTube]

BORN RECKLESS (1958)

It's Rodeo Week in the small town of Redrock and handsome, studly, nice-guy rodeo rider Kelly Cobb takes up a collection at the bar to help pay the medical bills for Charlie, a rider who took a bad spill. Across the room, buxom blonde singer Jackie Adams is fighting the drunken advances of a sports reporter, and when he gets aggressive and starts pawing her outside the bar, Kelly steps in and kicks some ass which starts a big brawl. Kelly, Jackie, and Kelly's old-timer buddy and assistant, nicknamed Cool Man, drive away before the cops come. Kelly's story: though still young, he is at the far end of prime rodeo cowboy age. He's trying to collect enough prize money so that he and his older buddy Papa Gomez can pool their cash and buy a nice-sized farm to retire to. Jackie's story: with good trick riding skills and a good singing voice, she is hoping to get a reputation as a glamorous rodeo queen. At the next rodeo in Little River, Kelly wins some money, but the crooked organizer absconds with all the cash. They travel on to a big 2-day rodeo event at Panamint, but Kelly spends the night drinking and carousing with Liz, a wealthy rodeo divorcée (whom Cool Man calls "cheap saddle trash"), and when she drops him off the next morning, he’s hungover from booze and worn out from their bed antics and he performs terribly in all of his events, even being responsible for getting Cool Man injured. That night, upset that Kelly hasn't even noticed that she's fallen in love with him, Jackie heads to Liz's house, catches them in heavy petting mode on the patio, and tosses them both in the pool. Between Jackie's outburst, Cool Man's cold shoulder, and Papa Gomez's obvious disappointment, Kelly tries his best to win every prize he can on the last day of the rodeo.

Though I do have some tolerance for B-westerns of the 30s and 40s, I'm not a fan of the rodeo western so this was a bit of a chore to sit through. I did it mostly because I’m a fan of Jeff Richards, the handsome B-actor (ISLAND OF LOST WOMEN, SECRET OF THE PURPLE REEF) who plays Kelly. He is convincing both as an aging rider who very much wants to settle down, and as a horndog who lets Liz sap his precious bodily fluids, as Sterling Hayden puts it in DR. STRANGELOVE. Mamie Van Doren, whose breasts are practically in 3D in her opening number, is serviceable, though her biggest strength here is in her musical numbers which she puts across well. There are several songs scattered throughout, the best being a catchy little number called something like "Huggable Loveable You" performed by rockabilly singer Johnny Olenn. Familiar supporting actor Arthur Hunnicut is good as Cool Man. Some viewers are baffled as to why the red-blooded heterosexual cowboy Kelly doesn't chase after Jackie from the start. That's a good question, and I assumed that he sensed that she was tired of lustful adulation and tried to just be a friend. But it's best not to think too hard about character and motivation here, and just enjoy the sexy leads and the occasional rodeo action. Pictured is Jeff Richards.[TCM]

THE ANDERSON TAPES (1971)

We meet career safecracker Duke Anderson (Sean Connery, at right) in his last therapy session before he is freed from a ten year prison sentence. He tells the group that blowing open a safe and plunging in was sexually arousing, comparing it to both seduction and rape. The session is routinely recorded on tape—a recurring motif here is how much of what we do in our modern life is caught on tape, video or audio. When he leaves prison, most of what Anderson does is recorded, the irony being that none of the surveillance is aimed at him; we see him caught on tapes intended to record the actions of others, whether Black Panther members, drug dealers, or cheating mistresses. Anderson visits his former lover Ingrid (Dyan Cannon) who has become a high class call girl who is kept by her older lover in a fancy apartment building. He comes up with the idea of one last big heist: break into the building over the quiet Labor Day weekend and clean out most of the residents' valuables. He collects some old gang members, enlists the aid of a gay antiques dealer (Martin Balsam) who can accompany the gang and let them know what's worth stealing, and begs favors from a Mafia boss who asks Anderson to employ a pain-in-the-ass psycho named Socks, then kill him afterwards. The plan works at first as the residents are burgled (and interact with the crooks in varying degrees of humor or danger), but a paraplegic boy whom Anderson didn't know about is able to call for help over his ham radio, and things don't wrap up as planned.

This is a fun heist movie, not a comedy exactly (though I can see "black comedy" being used as a descriptive genre) but generally played lightly. Connery gives a very good performance, trying to keep things under control and keep his cool as things slowly fall apart. Cannon is fine in the first half but has little to do later. Though the gay character is portrayed in a dated stereotypical fashion that modern viewers may not like, Balsam manages to make him interesting and relatively inoffensive. Christopher Walken has his first major film role as a young crook. Another film newcomer is Garrett Morris who plays a cop given an important part in the climax. Margaret Hamilton has what amounts to a cameo as an elderly resident whose reading habits incline toward The Story of O, and Judith Lowry is fun as Hamilton's disapproving roommate. There is fine support from Alan King (the Mafia boss), Conrad Bain, Stan Gottlieb, Anthony Holland and Ralph Meeker. I won't spoil what happens with the tapes (a lovely final moment of irony) except to say that they are no help to the police. If this was produced today, it would be a draggy 2 hours plus, or worse, a seven-hour streaming show, but at 100 minutes, the director, Sidney Lumet, keeps the action flying by. Recommended. [Criterion Channel]

JEOPARDY (1953)

A family travels into Mexico for a short fishing vacation at an isolated beach. Helen (Barbara Stanwyck), her husband Doug (Barry Sullivan), and their 10-year-old son Bobby (Lee Aaker) have an uneventful trip from Tijuana to Baja California. There are two obvious moments of foreshadowing: the car is stopped briefly at a Mexican police roadblock, and we see that Doug has brought a revolver along in the glove compartment. At the beach, Bobby goes out to play on an abandoned pier and when he comes back for lunch, his foot gets stuck under a wooden plank—no one noticed the sign, in Spanish, warning of danger. Doug goes out and frees him, but on the way back, Doug falls through some rotted wood and winds up trapped in shallow water, his feet pinned by a fallen piling. Helen and Bobby are unable to free him and, realizing that eventually the tide will come in, Helen takes the car to look for help. She drives back to find an uninhabited gas station, breaks into a tool shed to get some rope, and discovers an American named Lawson (Ralph Meeker) standing near the road. She asks him to come with her to help, not noticing the dead body near the road. Soon Lawson finds the gun and reveals that he is an escaped killer, the one the roadblock had been set up for. The rest of the film is a cat and mouse game with Helen trying to figure out how dangerous this guy really is, and Lawson keeping the upper hand with his gun and his bravado. (At one point, he tells her she talks so much, she must drive her husband crazy, one of the few bits of humor in the film.) Finally, after blowing through another roadblock and changing a flat tire, Helen lets Lawson know that she's willing to have sex with him, and even leave with him, in exchange for saving Doug's life. By the time they get to the pier, the water is getting close to Doug's face. Will Lawson come through on his promise (and did Helen already come through on hers)?

At a bit over an hour, this plays out like an episode of the old Alfred Hitchcock show. Actually, it's exactly the kind of plot that the Hitchcock show (1955-1965) would specialize in: a small cast, an atmosphere of tension, and a strong working-against-time element. Stanwyck had been extending her career by transitioning from roles of glamour and romance to tough dames with an almost masculine veneer of fortitude. She sort of combines both here, playing both a loving wife and mother, and a hardened woman determined to get what she wants. Viewers have debated whether or not Helen gives in and has sex with Lawson—who, by the way, as played by Ralph Meeker, is sexy in a sweaty, dangerous way—or has held out. We do see them kiss (without romance but with a bit of lust) and I assumed that they went a good deal further. Without spoiling the ending, Stanwyck's last bit of voiceover narration doesn't really clear the issue up, but can be seen if one wants to as one last smidge of evidence that they did. I assume the Production Code was one force in leaving things up in the air, although narratively, the ambiguity does work nicely. Sullivan hasn't much to do as the husband; Aaker is good as the kid; Meeker, as I noted above, does have sex appeal but also retains his edge of danger. The tension is built up well, and it’s a little weird to see publicity shots of the three adult actors more or less clowning around with the gun. Despite some claims, this isn't really noir, but a domestic crime melodrama, Though it's short, it does bog down a couple of times. Still, the ending is satisfying (if nicely ambiguous) and worth seeing for Stanwyck and Meeker, both pictured above. [TCM]

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST (1952)

I have tried and tried to like this ridiculous Oscar Wilde play. It has some very funny lines, amusing situations, and the Lady Bracknell character, an exaggerated figure of class privilege, is one an actor can sink her teeth into. But the characters and the story are so bizarre, it's hard to care a straw for anything that happens—yes, I know the very title warns me. Perhaps this is why it's almost always performed in a campy manner; it’s even become common for a man to play Lady Bracknell in drag. I recently saw a filmed production of the play by the National Theatre of Great Britain which is not only campy but throws in actively queer bits that don't really belong in a play which has little gay subtext (more on that later). So I decided to revisit this first filmed version, shot in a very stagy manner which seems appropriate for a story with no action.

Ernest Worthing (Michael Redgrave) and Algernon Moncrieff (Michael Denison) are buddies of some wealth and class. In the city, Worthing calls himself Ernest though his real name is Jack, the name he uses in the country where he lives most of the time as guardian to his young ward Cecily (Dorothy Tutin). Algernon only uses one name, but when he wants to skip out of his city obligations, he has made up a friend named Bunbury who he claims to visit in the country, usually saying Bunbury is sick and needs attending to. Jack/Ernest is in love with Gwendolen (Joan Greenwood), Algy's cousin, but her mother, Lady Bracknell (Edith Evans, pictured above right with Denison), is hesitant to give her consent, especially when she discovers that Jack has, as he puts it, "lost both parents"—Lady Bracknell replies, "To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness"—and his lineage can only be traced to having been found abandoned in a handbag in a train station. Bracknell can't let Gwendolen "marry into a cloakroom and form an alliance with a parcel." For her part, Gwendolen has always been enamored of the name Ernest which is pretty much her only reason for wanting to marry him. To make trouble, Algernon goes out to Jack's country estate and poses as Ernest, whom Jack has always referred to as a bad sort. Cecily has, sight unseen, fallen in love with Ernest (she, like Gwendolen, loves his name) and has written a series of diary entries about her imaginary relationship. Of course, Algernon (as Ernest) is a hit in the country and falls head over heels for Cecily, and when Jack arrives, all hell breaks loose. Then Lady Bracknell shows up.

This is basically a farce with comedic wordplay rather than physical humor. The construction of the narrative is tight with everything locking together by the end, but I can't get past some of the ludicrous situations, primarily that two young women would have dreams of marrying someone named Ernest to the exclusion of anyone else. The circumstances of Jack's birth are equally silly but are dealt with more cleverly. It comes down to pacing and acting. Redgrave and Denison are both fine. Redgrave, though still handsome, was in his mid-40s and pretty much looks it; Denison, in his mid-30s, is a better match for his role. Cecily and Gwendolen don't have much in the way of character backgrounds or personalities, so any competent actress could handle these roles, and Tutin and Greenwood suffice. Lady Bracknell will make or break any production of this work, and Edith Evans is quite good, tamping down the camp element just a bit (her delivery of the line, "A handbag??" is a highlight). In the smaller but very important role of Miss Prism, Margaret Rutherford (Miss Marple in a series of 1960s movies) is every bit as good. I'd love to have seen her take on the role of Lady Bracknell. The production is stagy and static but colorful with great sets and costumes. Of course, the title of the movie mocks my own problem with it: when the line is uttered at the very end of the film, we know that Wilde thinks the whole idea of earnestness being important is silly, so I should just get over my problems with logic and enjoy the wit, and generally, I do. [DVD]

A word on the gay element in the National Theatre production: Wilde was gay, and queer subtext in Dorian Gray is important, both in the relationship between Dorian and his mentors and in the decadent but undescribed behavior that Dorian eventually falls into. Some critics have read a similar subtext in Earnest in terms of the "bunburying" that Algernon does, implying a homosexual double life, and the very term itself suggests such a reading. But nothing in the play suggests that Algernon and Jack are queer besties, nor Cecily and Gwendolen. But in the 2025 film, the four are constantly engaging in retro-gay asides like bumping asses or kissing on the lips. I could deal with a production that bares Algernon as a closet case, or suggests a repressed attraction between Algy and Jack, but otherwise the queering up of the performances feels like an empty gimmick. Still, the production, with colorblind casting, is energetic and colorful. Sharon D. Clarke as Bracknell is actually better than Judi Dench was in the 2002 film; Dench, as she admitted later, tempered her performance a bit too much. Pictured at left are Hugh Skinner as Jack and Ncuti Gatwa as Algernon. Gatwa does come very close to making Algernon a gay stereotype which makes hash of his sudden attraction to Cecily. A production making both men queer, marrying women only for money or position, might be interesting.

THE DIVORCEE (1930)

A group of high society friends have spent the weekend at a country lodge. Jerry (Norma Shearer) is out by the river canoodling with Ted (Chester Morris, pictured with Shearer), much to the dismay of the gloomy Paul (Conrad Nagel) who pines for her. Don (Robert Montgomery), the snarky wit of the group, also pines but not so obviously. Ted tells Jerry they should wait to marry until he has made more money, but she forthrightly tells him, "Waiting isn’t my idea of the king of indoor sports," so as night falls, they head back to the lodge and announce their upcoming nuptials. Don is able to hide his feelings as he flirts with Mary, but Paul gets drunk and, while driving his friend Dorothy home, gets in a car wreck which leaves Dorothy with a facial disfigurement. Out of guilt, he marries her in her hospital bed while she recovers. Years later, Jerry and Ted have friends over to celebrate their third anniversary just before Ted goes to Chicago for a business trip. Someone brings Janice, referred to as a "grass widow" (I had to look this up; it's a woman whose husband is frequently away) to the party, and Jerry is shocked to discover Ted and Janice in a passionate embrace in the kitchen. Ted admits to having had a fling with her some time ago, but insists it meant nothing. He tries to talk Jerry into a more modern view of marriage morals, which he calls a man's point of view; she is not so quick to forgive, referring later to the "marvelous latitude of a man's point of view," but while Ted is away, Jerry goes out on the town with Don and spends the night with him. When Ted returns, Jerry tells him she has "balanced our accounts” but doesn't say with whom. Instead of taking his own advice about modern thinking, he is outraged. That night at a party, Ted gets drunk and makes a scene, and later at home, they have an argument, leading to a split-up and to Jerry proclaiming the famous line, "You're the only man in the world my door is closed to." They divorce and in a quick montage, we see that Jerry does indeed open her door to several men, while Ted starts drinking heavily. Soon, Jerry meets up with Paul again. They decide they're in love and he says he will leave Dorothy to marry Jerry. But an awkward meeting of the three leads Jerry to wonder about their situation, and even to think that maybe she's still in love with Ted, who has been miserable all this time.

This has become known as practically the template for the pre-Code romantic melodrama. It's sexy (Shearer and Morris have good chemistry), allows immoral behavior to occur without tragic punishment, and contains some juicy dialogue, as in Shearer's line about her door being open to the world. When one of Jerry's lovers says he wants her to tell the truth, she replies that the truth is "the last thing any man wants to hear from a woman." The ending may surprise some modern viewers (Spoilers!) as, with no real resolution about Ted's double standard, Jerry and Ted do reconcile in the end. Shearer has to learn, as her character in THE WOMEN also learns, that love has no pride. Critics love Shearer but often find Morris to be a little stiff and mannered, but that fits his character perfectly. Nagel has a fairly thankless role, and Montgomery shines as the happy-go-lucky pal; unfortunately, he more or less vanishes from the last half hour of the movie. The face of the disfigured Dorothy is never seen clearly, and when she pops up near the end, she wears a black veil and looks a bit like Dickens' Ghost of Christmas Future. Despite a vaguely unsatisfying ending—I'd like to have seen Morris suffer a bit more—I recommend this, especially if you're curious about all the pre-Code hooha. [DVD]