SNOW TRAIL (1947)

Three bank robbers—Nojiro, the leader; Tagasuki, an older man; Ejimi, a cocky young guy—are on the run in the Japanese Alps. They stop at a mountain resort but when news reports note that Nojiro is missing two fingers on one hand, he is spotted by guests wearing a glove even in a spa bath and suspicions are raised. The three force a group of male guests to strip naked and stay in the outdoor hot springs bath while they make their escape. An avalanche causes the death of Tagasuki, and the other two take refuge at a much smaller ski lodge higher in the mountains. The only occupants are an old man, his young granddaughter, and Honda, a visiting mountaineer, all more or less trapped there by a recent blizzard. They have heard nothing about the robberies so the two men are secure for a time, posing as stranded travelers, but soon the gruff Nojiro finds himself becoming fond of young Haruko, who reminds him of his own daughter who died at an early age. Nojiro becomes enamored of the song "My Old Kentucky Home," a recording of which Haruko plays frequently. Ejimi sees how Nojiro is softening and the resulting tension between Ejimi and Nojiro eventually causes Ejimi to take control, forcing Honda to escort them down the mountain before the police clear a path in the snow. Of course, out in the elements, things don't go like Ejimi planned.

The fact that this movie is available on Criterion's streaming channel on Hulu is probably due to the fact that 1) Akira Kurosawa co-wrote the screenplay, and 2) Toshiro Mifune is in it—his very first film role—and he is very good in the rather flat role of the tough guy crook Ejimi, but it's certainly worth seeing for other reasons as well. It was filmed on location, and the snow and the mountains certainly add to the feel of the movie. The central performance by Takashi Shimura as Nojiro is excellent, fairly subtle until sentimentality breaks through at the very end. But just as good are Akitake Kono as the pleasant, handsome Honda and Setsuko Wakayama (pictured with Mifune) as the little girl. The film, directed by Senkichi Taniguchi, manages to be both a crime movie and a character study. There is humor, excitement and ultimately redemption for Nojiro. [Criterion streaming]

BROADWAY LIMITED (1941)

Big Hollywood director Ivan Ivanski (Leonid Kinskey) gets on the Broadway Limited, an express train heading to New York from Chicago, with a small entourage:  his assistant Patsy (Patsy Kelly), his leading actress April (Marjorie Woodworth), and Myra (ZaSu Pitts), the spinsterish head of April's fan club. As a publicity stunt, Ivan decides that April should get on the train with a baby that they'll tell the press she's adopting. Patsy gets her boyfriend Mike (Victor McLaglen), an engineer on the train, to find a baby they can borrow. He gets one, but unknown to them, it's the kidnapped Pierson baby whose picture is on all the front pages. On the train, April runs into Harvey (Dennis O'Keefe), an old boyfriend who is now a doctor, and they renew their relationship, though the baby causes some confusion. When McLaglen realizes that April's baby in the kidnapped baby, they all panic and try in various ways to get rid of it, none successful. And then there's a shady-looking guy named Lefty (George E. Stone) who seems very interested in our gang's shenanigans.

This is trainbound farce played a little too slowly but a good cast helps put it across. Once you get past the ridiculous idea of the baby stunt, it's enjoyable. Woodward (pictured with O'Keefe) is the weak link; she's not bad, she's just run-of-the-mill. Everyone else is fine. In a rare major role (even though he's sixth-billed), Kinskey, best known as Sasha the bartender in CASABLANCA, is good though he might have been more fun if he'd been encouraged to play it a bit closer to over-the-top. I'm used to seeing McLaglen in more serious roles but he does comedy quite well. Pitts is an acquired taste, but I enjoyed her and her running gag involving her love of a radio serial called Renfrew of the Rockies. For me, the discovery was Patsy Kelly, whom I haven't seen much of. She was delightful here. The gags are plentiful, and if one doesn't work, the next one probably will. As I noted, the pace is just a smidge too slow—if it had been cranked up a notch, this might have been a memorable screwball comedy—but it's still fun. [TCM]

THUNDER IN THE CITY (1937)

Edward G. Robinson is a PR man known for overdosing on "ballyhoo," but when his latest stunt for the Snyderling Company goes too far (with acrobats swinging from blimps high over the city), he's sent to England to see how the sedate and dignified British do it. He stays with some relatives who, though upper class on the surface, are in financial trouble and hope that Robinson will buy their castle from them. Luli Deste, the young heiress, is set to marry the smarmy family lawyer (Ralph Richardson), but she admits to Robinson that it's strictly for money. The family owns a magnalite mine in South Africa which Richardson wants to get his hands on, but Robinson talks the Duke (Nigel Bruce) into selling it to him—and he gets to use his PR talents to scare up investors. However, Richardson goes to France to purchase the patent to the refining process, stymieing Robinson's plans.  This is an unusual little film, an independent British production with a major American star used against type as a romantic comedy leading man, though the romantic elements are downplayed throughout to the point where you forget that Robinson has fallen for Deste. It's just as well because they are an ill-suited match: he seems more like her father than a suitor, and Deste, an Austrian, is weak in the acting department (she only made a handful of films before retiring in 1941)—her character's thick accent is explained away by her having lived in Vienna for many years. It would seem that a touch of screwball comedy was being tried for with the appearance of two street musicians Robinson befriends, to no particular plot purpose. Richardson and Bruce are both worth seeing, and the whole thing has a pleasant feel, so it's difficult to dislike it, and there is one standout scene with Robinson trapping Bruce on a merry-go-round for seemingly hours until he agrees to the sale (pictured at right). [TCM]

LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE (1951)

Richard Trevelyan (Richard Todd) is on death row for murdering his wife, but gets a last-minute reprieve for a new trail. When it ends in a hung jury (one lone holdout for innocence gets five other jurors on her side), he is freed and heads out west to stay at an isolated ranch. Meanwhile, actress Shelley Carnes (Ruth Roman) has been sent to a dude ranch called the Tumble Moon for her delicate health; on her way, she gets stuck in the mud during a storm and stays the night at Richard's house—she recognizes him and he's standoffish and asks her not to tell anyone that she's seen him. The next day when she arrives at the Tumble Moon, she is told by its owner Liza (Mercedes McCambridge) that the place is closed, but Liza takes pity on her and lets her stay a while; the only other person around is Liza's crippled teenage brother String (Darryl Hickman). It turns out that Liza is an old friend of Richard's and was the lone holdout on the jury. Shelley, who has fallen in love with Richard, wants to try and prove his innocence, but he wants to let well enough alone. Also involved are Myra Nolan, owner of a nearby hotel, and her husband J.D. who have a possibly mysterious connection to Liza and Richard, and slick operator Harvey Turner (Zachary Scott) who is friends with Richard but may have his own agenda. And did I mention that: 1) Richard's wife had been unfaithful; 2) both Liza and String seem just a touch high-strung (no pun intended)? Shelley and Richard marry in secret, but on her wedding night, Shelly has reason to wonder, will she wind up just like wife #1?

This is a solid mystery/thriller with a lot of backstory, some interesting characters, and good acting. The focus is on Roman (the same year, she was Farley Granger's lover in STRANGERS ON A TRAIN) and she's fine, but the real reasons to watch the movie are McCambridge and Hickman (both pictured above); they give fine performances that are a bit showy but compelling and their characters are the most interesting in the story. Todd is rather bland; Scott's quite good but not in it enough, essentially winding up as a red herring (though he does play a crucial role in the climax). A couple of good lines: a reporter discussing Richard's wife's murder says, "It's always the good-lookers that get into trouble—nobody ever bothers to kill the dogs." Later, McCambridge, a little jealous of Roman, tells her, "You're fascinated by the smell of murder!" [TCM]

THE GREAT COMMANDMENT (1941)

In 30 A.D. Judea, the Jewish populace is oppressed by the Romans who keep raising taxes and imprisoning or enslaving those who cannot pay, and a small underground band of rebels called the Zealots are trying to gain support to fight back. Joel (John Beal) is the head of the Zealots, counseling patience and restraint, but his headstrong brother Zadok (Warren McCollum) is more restless. News of the itinerant preacher Jesus sparks hopes that he might be the prophesied king who will lead his people to freedom.  On the home front, Joel is in love with Tamar (Marjorie Cooley), but Joel's father Lamach makes a deal with Tamar's father to give her to Zadok in marriage instead of Joel. This causes tension between father and son, which is stretched to the breaking point when Joel sets out to look for Jesus. He takes a ceremonial sword and along the way, stops in villages and has rebels pledge their allegiance so Jesus will be able to call on a small army when he agrees to lead the rebellion. But when Joel encounters Jesus, he is disappointed that Jesus refuses his army because of his philosophy of "love thy neighbor." Judas, a disaffected apostle, buddies up with Joel for a time, and Joel hatches a plan to trap Jesus and "force him to become a man of action."  But before that can happen, the Romans, led by the centurion Longinus (Albert Dekker), attack the Zealots and kill Zadok. Longinus himself is wounded and just as Joel is about to deliver a death blow, the words of Jesus about love and mercy come to him.

I'd have to do more research to say this definitely, but this would seem to be the first mainstream Hollywood movie to tell a Biblical story in a non-epic fashion (there were silent epics like KING OF KINGS and QUO VADIS). In the sense that it tells a story of Jesus in which Jesus is only a peripheral character, it feels modern. We hear the voice of Jesus, but his face is seen only briefly, in a reflection in a pond when Joel first finds him. What might cause problems today among some Christians is the emphasis on non-violence and loving all "neighbors," even enemies. I've read conflicting reports about this film's production history, but it seems to have been made independently in 1939 and distributed in 1941 by 20th Century Fox. The director, Irving Pichel, worked primarily at Fox but also did films for smaller studios like Republic. The leads, John Beal (pictured) and Albert Dekker, had long Hollywood careers, mostly in B-movie or in character roles. Maurice Moscovitch, a well-known actor in Yiddish theatre, is just right as Joel's father. The production, mostly shot on outdoor sets, is solid. I went into this film thinking it would be a shoddy, preachy Sunday school flick, and was surprised how much I enjoyed it. The way the film treats the political aspect of rebellion—and the participation of Judas—reminded me of the 1961 KING OF KINGS. Overall, a pleasant surprise; even the way the low-budget film treats the crucifixion at the end works well. [YouTube]

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER (1949) / HOUSE OF USHER (1960)

Edgar Allan Poe's original tale about the decaying house of the Usher family and its equally decaying inhabitants is considered a small masterpiece of psychological horror. Roderick Usher and his sister Madeline, both sickly individuals, live in the house, which is crumbling physically as the Ushers are crumbling mentally, supposedly due to a family curse. Roderick has an intense sensitivity to tastes, sights and sounds and can barely stand to be around anyone; Madeline has no energy, is wasting away, and is prone to falling into trance-like states. A young man, a friend of Roderick's, visits and witnesses their final days as Madeline dies and is buried in a basement vault, but turns out to have been buried alive. The story, roughly twenty pages, is wonderfully creepy and tantalizingly ambiguous as concerns the decay of the family; it is stated that too much intermarriage had weakened the line, and some readers believe that Roderick and Madeline are an incestuous couple. Both of these attempts to put the story on film miss the mark, but both have their moments as films of bleakness and mystery.

The 1949 British version is a low-budget affair which interpolates a fair amount of background material into Poe's story to give the film more traditional horror elements. The visitor, Jonathan, vanishes for long stretches of time and ultimately does not have a large role in the proceedings. We're given the backstory about the family: Mom was having an affair with a secret lover out in a small temple on the Usher property. Dad found out and used the temple as a torture room for the two of them. Before he died, the lover put a curse of the Usher children. Now, Mom is still alive and insane, living in the temple. A family friend tells Roderick that burning the head of the lover would lift the curse, but Mom keeps the head under close watch and might just kill to protect it. The scenes in the temple are indeed horrific but, as I knew the Poe story, these elements felt shoehorned in to pad the movie out to 70 minutes. Still, on its own as a creepy little B-film, with the usual B-level acting and production values, it works fairly well. There is particularly nice use of candlelight and shadow in many of the interior scenes. The picture above left is of Gwen Watford as Madeline. [TCM]

The most well-known film version is Roger Corman's HOUSE OF USHER with Vincent Price as Roderick. It's historically significant as the first of the Corman Poe movies, and was probably the movie that solidified Price as the leading horror star of the baby-boomer generation. In this version, Philip, the young and handsome visitor (Mark Damon, pictured with Price), is not a friend of Roderick's but a suitor of Madeline's (Myrna Fahey). Apparently they became close in Boston but she mysteriously retreated to her isolated family manse and he is visiting in hopes of marriage. Roderick is not happy to see him and tells him that marriage is impossible as she is very sick. Still, Philip manages to see Madeline, who is indeed thin and pale, and Roderick allows him to stay in the house overnight. The rest of the story follows the basics of Poe: Roderick's sensitivities, a family curse, Madeline's apparent death and her live burial. This film, having a bigger budget—though still in the B-movie range—has a more spectacular finale involving fire and destruction (which, for the record, is not how the house falls in the Poe story). Price is very good as the gentlemanly but batty neurasthenic, and because I saw the movie before I had read the story, I've always pictured Roderick as an older man, but in Poe, he's about the same age as the young visitor. Both movies are worth seeing, though the Corman one is the more entertaining one, and the colorful and detailed sets in this version really help build the Gothic atmosphere. [DVD]

PS: I'm taking off for a week on the Turner Classic Movies cruise, where Roger Corman will be a guest, answering questions and introducing a showing of X: Man With the X-Ray Eyes. Reviews will return the week of November 9th.

BULLDOG DRUMMOND’S SECRET POLICE (1939)

In an earlier blog post, I mentioned the differences between the British and American Bulldog Drummond movies. This is an example of an American series entry. These are more frivolous, with less ambitious criminals, a slightly higher quotient of comic relief, and a silly running subplot about the constant thwarting of Drummond's wedding plans. In fact, this one begins on the night before Drummond's planned nuptials with his eternal fiancée Phyllis. They're opening up the family castle in preparation for the event when an absent-minded researcher arrives, asking about the existence of secret tunnels under the castle where a long-hidden treasure chest might be buried. Drummond (John Howard) sees no problem letting the man stay the night to go over his maps and charts and figure out where the loot might be, but just as the visitor discovers where it is, he's murdered, and an adventure again threatens to derail the wedding. But this time, Phyllis (Heather Angel) is all for it, and she and Drummond and his buffoonish sidekick Algy (Reginald Denny) and faithful butler Tenny (E. E. Clive) and Scotland Yard Inspector Neilson (H. B Warner) are soon on the trail of the mysterious figure who is willing to murder to get his hands on the treasure.

This is basically an old-dark-house movie; the entire film takes place in the castle and its subterranean passages, though there are no supernatural elements involved. The "whodunit" aspect is dispelled quickly—it's the new butler (Leo G. Carroll) who turns out to be an ex-con—so the film can focus on the shadowy chases and the gunplay and the hostage-taking. Howard is fine as the hero—second only to Ronald Colman in the 1929 version—and Angel is just as good. Comic relief figures are sometimes major irritants, but Reginald Denny (pictured, with Howard beneath) is always a delight with his slapstickish antics, and he is aided here by Elizabeth Patterson as Phyllis's old-maid aunt. The final sequence, a long chase through the tunnels, has an exciting scene in a chamber of spikes that wouldn't be out of place in an Indiana Jones movie, or at least in one of the B-movie serials that helped inspire the Indy films. Another highlight is a bizarre dream sequence which consists of clips from previous Drummond films which starred Howard. Highly recommended. [TCM]

THE CASE OF THE FRIGHTENED LADY (1940)

We see, as the title promises, a frightened lady, screaming in the night at the bottom of a staircase in an old dark house. She is Isla (Penelope Dudley Ward, at left), secretary to Lady Lebanon, and her scream was caused by the sight of two figures in the shadows who turn out to be Lady Lebanon's two somewhat mysterious footmen, Brooks and Gilder. Isla calms down, but is upset to discover that a bolt has been put on the outside of her bedroom door to keep her locked in at night. The house is also inhabited by Lady Lebanon's effete son, Lord Lebanon (Marius Goring) who spends all day playing the piano and seeming distracted. A Dr. Amersham is a frequent visitor; we suspect that either he has an unwholesome hold over Lady Lebanon or vice versa. Lady Lebanon (Helen Haye) is pressuring Isla, a distant cousin, into marrying Lord Lebanon, though Isla is sweet on visiting architect Richard Ferraby. At a costume ball, Studd, the chauffeur, dances with the wife of groundskeeper Tilling, creating a brief scene, and when Studd is found dead, strangled with an Indian scarf, suspicion falls on Tilling until Detective Tanner finds a drawerful of scarves in Dr. Amersham's room. But when Amersham himself is found dead, the hunt for suspects is back on. Why did Lady Lebanon burn the only bit of evidence in Amersham's death? And why is she so adamant that no one enter the room of her late husband, kept locked since his death? And is Lord Lebanon being poisoned as he suspects?

This little-seen British thriller is a nice treat, full of atmosphere, good plotting—based on a novel by prolific British author Edgar Wallace—decent acting, and some tricky twists, even though any mystery fan will know exactly who the killer is from fairly early on. There is a lot of plot but the threads always remain clear. Goring is especially good as Lord Lebanon—is he just an eccentric or is he a little batty? His relationship with Isla is especially well played—they truly seem like they are fond of each other but neither has romantic feelings. I'd never heard of Helen Haye, but she's quite good as Lady Lebanon who has more screen time than anyone else here. John Warwick as Studd and Torin Thatcher as Tilling are standouts in the supporting cast. Nicely done all around. [YouTube]

TERROR IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE (1958)

Sheila (Cathy O'Donnell) has spent a few years in a Swiss sanitarium as a TB patient, but she's healthy and ready to move back to the States with her new husband Philip (Gerald Mohr) whom she married after a whirlwind courtship. The only problem: she's obsessing about a recurring dream in which she walks into a house, goes up the stairs, sees a creepy-looking door, and freaks out. Her analyst tells her it's probably a sign of some buried memory from her past and basically says, don't worry. In Florida, Sheila is understandably upset when Philip pulls up to the house he's rented for them and it's the exact same house from her dream, right down to the creepy door. There's a strange caretaker named Jonah (John Qualen) who isn't expecting them and really wants them to leave, which Sheila is happy to do, but Philip insists they must stay if she is to overcome her fear of the dream. That night when she sees a hideous face peering in her window, she insists on leaving, but Philip can't get the car started—he tells her that Jonah must have disabled it. But why would he do that when he wanted them to get out in the first place? Then she finds the car’s distributor cap in Philip's bag. Then Mark (William Ching), the property owner, shows up. He knows Philip from the past, but their connection is vague. Clearly everyone is keeping some secrets from Sheila, but who is friend and who is foe?

I've had a vivid memory of this movie in my head for years—I saw it on Chiller Theater when I was 8 or 9—but could never come up with the title. So I was pleased to finally find the right movie. Then I made the mistake of watching it. After the moderately atmospheric opening ten minutes, the whole thing goes downhill fast. Among the problems: indifferent acting by the leads—O'Donnell is flat-out terrible, Mohr (pictured with O'Donnell) is boring; a confusing script which artificially and unnaturally omits and then reveals information as needed to keep some sense of tension; dreadful lighting and cheap sets devoid of atmosphere—the old dark house is really a brightly-lit, cozy house of fairly recent vintage, despite everyone saying how old it is (it looks like a 60s sit-com house); truly awful day-for-night shooting. The only pluses: William Ching gives a decent performance in an "is he good or is he evil?" role, and the plot swerves from GASLIGHT territory into something different. If only the scripting had been tighter, or the acting better, or the direction more inspired. There is a germ of a good idea here, but the movie crashes and burns long before the finale. [YouTube]

FINGER OF GUILT (1956)

aka THE INTIMATE STRANGER

Reggie Wilson (Richard Basehart) is a film director who left Hollywood in the wake of a scandalous affair with a studio boss's wife. He winds up in England, trying to turn over a new leaf, making movies at Commonwealth Pictures where his boss, Ben Case (Roger Livesey), has become a kind of father figure, and he soon marries Ben's daughter Lesley. Reggie and Ben are in the middle of difficult negotiations over making "Eclipse," a picture close to Reggie's heart—made more difficult by Ben's assistant Ernie (Mervyn Johns) who just doesn't like Reggie. Suddenly, Reggie starts getting strange letters from a woman named Evelyn (Mary Murphy). They're not quite blackmail letters, but they strongly imply that a recent affair between them has gone cold and she wants him to pay more attention to her. Reggie dismisses them as cruel pranks, but eventually he meets her and her story is so convincing, he begins to question his own sanity: Could he have a split personality? Could part of him be living an adulterous life without his other self knowing it? As his life begins to unravel, he turns for help to Ben, who eventually becomes disinclined to help, and to an old friend, actress Kay Wallace (Constance Cummings) who is somewhat reluctantly starring in "Eclipse." She is more willing to help, but soon Ben cancels the movie altogether and Lesley leaves him, making Reggie think he might actually be losing his mind.

This psychological thriller takes a while to get going, partly because it begins with Reggie seeing a doctor about his "split personality" theory and the first half of the movie is told in flashback. But once it hits its stride, it's a fun, tricky ride. Basehart, whom I usually like, gives an oddly mannered performance, using a strange speaking cadence in which he drags out the last syllables of words; I eventually got used to it, but it still felt odd. Still, he does a good job of embodying a confused anti-hero, a heel who may well be getting what he deserves. Murphy and Cummings are both fine; Livesey seems in the beginning to be a minor character but he grows in importance and does a nice job of keeping us on our toes—is he really as sympathetic to Basehart as he seems, or is he the mastermind behind the scheme? Mervyn Johns is best known to me as Bob Cratchit in the Alistair Sim Christmas Carol, so though his role is fairly small, it's interesting to see him play an unlikable character. The finale, on a dark soundstage (pictured above) where sound effects are being looped into a crime film scene, is worth staying around for. Memorable line, and kind of the moral of the story, delivered by Cummings: "Sometimes it's the things we didn't do that pay us back for the things we did do." [TCM]

NIGHT OF TERROR (1933)

This October, almost by accident, I've been reviewing mostly mysteries and old-dark-house movies, which are themselves mysteries with a few horror elements thrown in. Partly this is because I've just recently discovered a couple of YouTube channels that focus on public domain thrillers of the 30s, and the old-dark-house genre was at its peak then. It lent itself to low-budget filmmaking—in front of the camera, all you needed were sets that could pass as rooms in a big house and, of course, darkness, which helps hide the cheapness of the sets. The screenplays all came from an easy template—usually involving the death of a family elder, the reading of his or her will (which brought together varied characters), and the desire (or at least perceived desire) of some greedy family members to kill off the heir. There were stock character types as well: the innocent young woman, the handsome reporter/cousin/policeman anxious to protect the woman, the sinister-seeming housekeeper and servants, the wild card friend or relative. And, of course, the secret passages, hidden panels, and dark nooks and crannies of the house all of which could hide bodies, animals, bad guys—and sometimes a good guy. The same conventions and storylines were used over and over, but that's part of the pleaure of genres; whether mystery, science-fiction, romance or spy story, we enjoy seeing how each new example will both conform with and deviate (to some small degree) from the expected outline.

In this example, a shaggy-looking fellow known as the Maniac has been stabbing people to death in the vicinity of the Rinehart estate, leaving a newspaper headline about the Maniac pinned to each victim. A professor (George Meeker) is staying at the house, ready to unveil his new concoction, a serum that will leave a person in suspended animation with no need to breathe for several hours, and he plans on having himself buried alive on the estate to show that it works. Meeker has been ignoring his fiancée (Sally Blane), a Rinehart family member, so she flirts with a reporter (Wallace Ford) working on the Maniac story. We see the Maniac prowling around the property and soon he kills the Rinehart patriarch. His will states that all household members, including faithful if somewhat mysterious servants Bela Lugosi (in a turban) and Mary Frey (pictured top right), share in the money, though if any of them die, their share is split among the rest. Sure enough, people start getting killed. Could it be the Maniac? Or a greedy maniacal heir?

There is some fun to be had here, mostly enjoying Lugosi's ripe performance as an exotic figure who may or may not be evilly inclined. There is a séance, the aforementioned live burial, a tricky secret passageway, and a stabbing from behind right through a chair. There are several plot twists in this hour-long film, though that doesn't mean that things don't bog down occasionally. Ford and Blane have fine chemistry here, Ford (pictured with Lugosi at left) being both romantic lead and comic relief. We never find out the identity of the Maniac—he's real but he's basically a red herring—and he provides a strange ending to the film when, after apparently being killed, he gets up and warns the audience not to reveal the identity of the real villain. Among the fun moments: Lugosi gives a cop an "Oriental cigarette" to put him briefly out of commission, and Ford's crack when he sees four hats in the entryway (belonging to the men who have come to witness the live burial): "Who's here, the four Marx Brothers?" Not the best in the genre, but not the worst, and the almost science-fiction element of the serum makes a nice addition to the well-worn story. [GetTV]

THE FAKE (1953)

Tepid, run-of-the-mill crime drama with a weak screenplay and phoned-in acting, made palatable only by some film noir visual style, though thematically this is not noir. A staged fight breaks out in the Tate Gallery in London, diverting attention from the men who are stealing the Da Vinci painting Madonna and Child as it's being delivered. But, ah ha! American insurance investigator Dennis O'Keefe has been on the case; the real painting is safe and the crooks just got an empty crate. But O'Keefe is still puzzled over the identity of the big shot who was behind this attempt, who had already stolen two other Da Vincis in Florence and New York. Later, someone sneaks into the Tate after hours and takes Madonna and Child, replacing it with an almost perfect forgery, and O'Keefe is back on the case. Among the suspects: an aging, impoverished and embittered artist (John Laurie) who can in fact do nearly perfect copies of masterworks; his daughter (Coleen Gray, pictured with O'Keefe) who works for the gallery; a high-class private collector (Hugh Williams); and even the gallery director. The film moves rather sluggishly until the final third when it becomes a relatively tense cat-and-mouse game. I generally like O'Keefe but he and Gray are bland here, leaving Laurie and Williams to take acting honors. The gallery interiors were actually shot in the Tate, adding some novelty value. The background score is taken from Mussorgsky's "Pictures At An Exhibition." [TCM]

ARSÈNE LUPIN RETURNS (1938)

Special agent Steve Emerson (Warren William) is riding a wave of good publicity for his crimebusting activities, but his boss has decided that his high profile has become a liability, so he's let go, but he steps immediately into a new gig as an insurance investigator. His first case is a doozy—the Count de Grissac (John Halliday), his niece Lorraine (Virginia Bruce) and his cousin M. Bouchet (Monty Wooley) are found tied up in their Manhattan hotel, their valuable family necklace stolen. But it turns out that it was only a paste substitute which was taken; the real one was in a hotel safe. Still, Emerson discovers the calling card of the notorious jewel thief Arsène Lupin at the scene of the crime. Lupin is presumed dead, but Emerson decides that whoever the thief is will come back when he realizes the jewels are fake, so he accompanies the de Grissac clan back to Paris where Lorraine's lover René Ferrand (Melvyn Douglas, pictured with Bruce) joins them. We soon discover that Ferrand is actually Arsène Lupin, alive and no longer thieving, and a bit irritated that someone is besmirching his name. When the real jewels are stolen and a well-known underworld fence is found dead, and signs point to Lupin as the culprit, Ferrand begins his own investigation to help Emerson. But what if Emerson himself is the guilty party?

An unoffical sequel to a 1932 film with John Barrymore, this is a fairly interesting variation on the trope of the criminal-gone-good who helps the cops (see also The Saint, Boston Blackie, etc.), enlivened considerably by the charming central trio of Douglas, William and Bruce, and by the ambiguity, kept going until the final scene, of whether Emerson is really the thief, or at least working for him. A scene near the end when the police search everyone in the room for the jewels, and those who have the jewels find clever ways of passing them along and away from the cops, is quite fun. Woolley and Halliday don't have a lot to do, but it's nice seeing them. Fine support is given by Nat Pendleton as a former crook buddy of Lupin's and George Zucco as the inspector. Prolific character actor Ian Wolfe has a small role credited as Ien Wulf. Overall, a nice light-hearted mystery. [TCM]

COSMOS: WAR OF THE PLANETS (1977)

I'll tell you right off the bat that this Italian B-movie, released to ride the Star Wars wave and full of allusions to 2001: A Space Odyssey, is one of those films that is so bad, it's almost good. But tastes vary wildly with this kind of film, so viewer beware. Astronaut Alex Hamiton (John Richardson) is on an expedition, headed up by an old military guy and a supercomputer named Wiz, to an uncharted planet from where a strange signal—which sounds exactly like Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor—has been emanating (as in 2001 ). Along the way, one man is sent on a spacewalk to repair a part and nearly dies (see 2001). On the planet, Hamilton and his crew find a sort of Stonehenge structure (a little like the monolith in 2001) which is a portal to another place (see STARGATE, which of course was made many years after this film), and are menaced by a giant killer robot. They find a race of sliver-green men dressed in very skimpy loincloths who are now being controlled by the very robots they built. One of them, Etor, hooks up with Hamilton's crew. The robot wants the earthlings to fix something (you can tell I was nodding off and not caring enough to backtrack) and they do, after which they destroy the robot and take off back to Earth with Etor. But the robot may not have had its last word yet.

That's as much plot as I could figure out from this scraggly, poorly edited, disjointed movie which is nevertheless fun to watch. The good things: John Richardson is handsome and generally stoic as the hero—though sometimes seeming as confused by plot twists as we are; Etor (Aldo Canti, pictured above) is studly though sadly we see very little of him or the rest of his nearly-naked, pointy-eared pals; there's a scene of a couple rather chastely using an Orgasmatron-like machine (see SLEEPER); the chintzy but charming sets, with lots of colored lights and big buttons, which look like a couple of sci-fi geeks built in their basement. The bad things: the roaming plot; the terrible editing; people constantly screaming; listless acting from everyone except Richardson. It's in the public domain, and the Alpha Video print I saw was badly pan-and-scanned and in dreadful shape. If it ever turned up in a clean widescreen print, I'd watch it again, but that seems unlikely. A good "bad movie night" pick. [DVD]

THE PANTHER'S CLAW (1942)

Late one night, Officer Murphy nabs Everett Digberry (Byron Foulger) as he climbs over a wall and out of a cemetery. Digberry, a middle-aged milquetoast guy with a wife and five daughters (this fact is what passes for a running gag in this movie), says he's been blackmailed by someone calling himself The Panther (whose notes are signed with a inked paw) and was following instructions to place $1000 on his Aunt Kate's grave. When police commissioner Thatcher Colt (Sidney Blackmer) investigates, he discovers that several people, all associated with the Gotham Opera Company, for which Digberry is a wigmaker, have gotten the same notes, including opera diva Nina Politza and singer Enrico Lombardi, also known as the "Mad Baritone." Soon, the mystery of the Panther is solved: Digberry sent out the letters to cover up a loan he made to Nina, who is nearly penniless. But when Nina is found dead, wearing a gray wig made by Wilkins, one of Digberry's rivals, Colt and his assistant Tony Abbot find themselves in the middle of a murder case. All signs point to Digberry, but who is the mysterious man named Galloway who people know but never see?

Thatcher Colt was a pulp fiction detective created by Anthony Abbot (in an apparent inside joke, that's the name of Colt’s assistant in the movie), but as played by Blackmer, he seems to have absolutely nothing unique or interesting about him—no goofy character trait, no personality facet, no physical or cultural markers to make him stand out. I like Blackmer but he's so passive and soft-spoken here that he practically vanishes even as he's talking. Rick Vallin as Abbot is handsome and slightly peppier, but the real star of the show is Foulger as Digberry. His personality is similarly drab (on purpose) but at least his situation is moderately interesting and he gets far more screen time than Colt. Also adding some spice (albeit possibly unwanted) is African-American actor Billy Mitchell who plays an elevator operator in the demeaning manner that was the norm for black characters of that era. The film begins well, but once the fake blackmail plot is out of the way, the mystery becomes convoluted—the culprit is a minor character who was barely on my radar. There are some pleasures to be had here, most involving Foulger's character, but this forgotten B-movie doesn't really need rediscovery. Pictured above, from left, are Blackmer, Vallin, and Foulger. [YouTube]

THE MYSTERY OF MR. WONG (1939)

We see a Chinese man on a boat throw a package overboard which is picked up by a man in a motorboat and passed along until it reaches its destination, the home of gem collector Brandon Edwards (Morgan Wallace).  It's a legendary jewel from China called the Eye of the Daughter of the Moon which was lost in the Japanese looting of Nanking and is now in Edwards' possession. But the day before, Edwards got a letter threatening death to the gem's owner so he calls in detective James Lee Wong to investigate. That night, at a party at Edwards' home, an elaborate game called Indications is played, with partygoers acting out charades in short skits. During the charade for a book called "Murder Comes at Midnight," the character Edwards is playing is shot by a gun filled with blanks, but after he falls to the ground, it's discovered that he's actually been shot dead, from a different gun, from a different direction. Among the suspects: Peter (Craig Reynolds), the lover of Edwards' wife Valerie, who has said that he'd kill Edwards if he ever mistreated his wife; Strogonoff, a Russian singer who has been "adopted" by the family and lives with them; a possibly suspicious maid and butler. Wong, his criminologist friend Janney, and police captain Street (Grant Withers) have their work cut out for them.

This is the second in the Mr. Wong series. Wong, usually played by Boris Karloff, is mild-mannered but obviously intelligent and a man of good taste. If it weren’t for the occasional Chinese robe and the atmosphere of Wong's home, Karloff's portrayal is subtle enough that you might not even notice the character's ethnicity. If only for the charades twist, this is the most memorable of the Mr. Wong movies; the Monogram low-budget problems are present in sets and scripting, but the acting is a notch above usual; in addition to the always reliable Karloff, Withers, Reynolds and Wallace are good. The set-up involving a deadly parlor game is pretty much the same that was used in the earlier MURDER AT MIDNIGHT; both were written by Scott Darling. In the above picture, Reynolds is seated at the desk, Karloff is behind him, and Withers is standing to the left. [DVD]

OBSESSION (1949)

aka THE HIDDEN ROOM   

We first see psychiatrist Clive Riordan (Robert Newton) in a low-key, distracted mood at his London men's club. When he returns home early, his wife Storm (Sally Grey) is gone, and when she returns, she's in the company of another man, the young American Bill Kronin (Phil Brown). They claim to have been at a concert, but Clive cleverly catches them in a lie, pulls a gun on Bill, and marches him out of the house. As far as Storm knows, that was the end of the story, but five days later, Bill is reported missing. Clive claims he doesn't know what happened, but we discover that Clive took Bill to an abandoned cellar near his office and chained him up so he has access to a cot and a bathroom but can't escape. Clive holds him for weeks; a bit of cat-and-mouse rapport develops, but Bill has no idea what Clive's plan is: each day, Clive brings in a small amount of acid and pours it in a tub—when the tub is full, he'll put Bill in it. Naturally, there are complications, the first being the Riordan's dog who follows Clive out to the hidden room one day, the second being a Scotland Yard inspector (Naunton Wayne) who starts snooping around.

Robert Newton (pictured) is the glue that holds this together and makes it worth watching. His character is given no background aside from the fact that he's a psychiatrist which in itself would have been interesting to delve into; his relationship with his wife is also not fleshed out. Grey is weak as the wife, perhaps because she is given little to work with—she seems singularly uninterested in Bill's whereabouts even though she was having an affair with him. Brown is better but his character is also flat. Newton, who was known to ham it up (see BLACKBEARD THE PIRATE), is quiet but tightly wound, and keeps the movie fairly tense. I like Naunton Wayne and he gives a nicely sly but understated performance as the cop. The dog and a cat both play important roles in the film's climax. [Criterion streaming]

SECRET OF THE CHATEAU (1934)

The Duke de Mornay has died, apparently murdered by the notorious Prihec who kills in order to get his hands on rare books. Chief inspector Marotte shows up at the auction of the Duke's books—being run by M. Fos, a well known book dealer—hoping that the killer will also show up. Instead, Marotte runs into Julie Verlaine (Claire Dodd) as she's chatting with the Duke's nephew Paul (Clark Williams) who tells her he is trying to find a buyer for a Gutenberg Bible that belonged to his uncle. Julie is known as a thief who works with her live-in boyfriend Lucien (Jack La Rue); in fact, she has just been released from a short stint in jail, and Marotte lets her know that he's keeping an eye on her. Julie wants to leave behind her life of crime, even if that means leaving Lucien, though out of habit she steals a rare Moliere book at the auction. Paul, thinking Julie is a rare book expert, asks her to visit the chateau to verify the value of the Gutenberg, which is kept under lock and alarm along with a fake copy. At the chateau, there are troubled waters: Paul's aunt, Mme. Rombiere, argues that she owns half of the Bible and she wants a say in how it's disposed of; M. Bardou, the executor of the will, wants to donate it to a museum. Also at the chateau: Didi (Alice White), a frisky former lover of Paul's who wants some of the money he may come into; the butler Martin and his wife, the cook, both of whom have only been employed there for a few weeks; and Professor Racque, a book seller who claims to have been promised books from the Duke's collection. For various reasons, all stay the night in the chateau, and at midnight, the tower bell mysteriously rings out. Legend has it that whenever the bell rings, death will follow, and sure enough, later in the night, there's a scream, a gunshot, and the ringing of the bible's alarm bell, all simultaneously. The Bible is gone and Bardou is dead, though Marotte believes that the theft and the killing were done by two different people. How many more will die before Marotte gets to the bottom of the mystery?

Though originally sold to television in the 50s as part of Universal's famous Shock Theater package of horror films, this is not horror, nor does it really belong to the "old dark house" genre. It's just a traditional crime/mystery B-film, though an entertaining and well-paced one. The movie has a very light tone with a fair amount of comic relief which I thought worked well, though not all reviewers agree. George E. Stone does his usual comic sidekick role to good effect (in one scene, he tries to oil the hinges of a squeaking door with salad dressing), and Alice White brings a nice jolt of energy to the proceedings in all of her scenes. Dodd is fine; Williams may be a little low on passion as the romantic lead, but he's handsome and otherwise serviceable. Osgood Perkins, father of actor Anthony, is good as the suspicious butler, as is Ferdinand Gottschalk as the inspector. No earthshaker, and definitely not a pick for horror night, but a nice way for a fan of B-mysteries to pass an hour. Pictured above right are White and Stone; at left are Dodd and Williams. [YouTube]

MR. WONG, DETECTIVE (1938)

Businessman Simon Dayton feels threatened and has detective James Lee Wong brought in protect him. Dayton and his business partners Meisel and Wilk are shipping out a new chemical weapon and Dayton feels paranoid, mostly because inventor Carl Roemer claims that the men stole his formula and Dayton fears he may make trouble. Meisel and Wilk insist on having Dayton sign legal papers stating that if any one of them dies, the others will inherit the dead man's shares in the company. That very day, Roemer shows up brandishing a gun, demanding money. Roemer is subdued and led out of Dayton's office and the police are called. Moments later, Dayton is found dead in his office, killed by poison gas released from a small glass sphere. Wong has a glassblower reproduce the sphere and runs experiments on what might have caused the sphere to shatter, releasing the deadly gas. Roemer is held as a likely suspect, but when Wilk gets a threatening letter and is found dead from the same gas, Roemer seems to be in the clear and suspicion falls on Meisel. But what about the rather suspicious Russian baron and countess who enter the picture? And when Meisel dies a similar death, the police seem stumped. But Mr. Wong is not…

The two most famous Asian sleuths in Hollywood in the 1930s were Charlie Chan and Mr. Moto. B-studio Monogram introduced a third, Mr. Wong, based on a magazine fiction series by Hugh Wiley. As played by Boris Karloff, he is the least stereotyped of the bunch—he speaks in full English sentences, his make-up is fairly subtle and, though inclined to wear long Chinese robes while at home, there is otherwise little else to differentiate him from any movie detective of the era. This film, the first of six, is generally undistinguished in terms of acting, sets or style, though Karloff is fine—but he vanishes for long stretches of time so that the plot can get more convoluted than it needs to. To be fair, it's fairly easy to follow and I did enjoy the twists in both the identity of the killer and the method he uses to kill. Grant Withers is Sam Street, the cop who partners with Wong in all the films, and the worst I can say about him is that he's colorless. I've seen many of these in the past but have been revisiting the boxed set recently, so I'll review a few more soon. [DVD]

BOSTON BLACKIE BOOKED ON SUSPICION (1945)

The Boston Blackie movies are light, unpretentious crime stories in which Chester Morris plays the title character, a reformed safecracker who now helps the cops out, usually because he falls under suspicion and has to clear himself. This entry is one of the best in the series. Blackie's rich buddy Arthur Manleder has just bought a rare and used bookstore and on the eve of an important auction, the book expert Kittridge takes ill and cannot be present. Blackie, knowing this could tarnish the store's reputation, disguises himself beneath white hair and a beard as Kittridge and conducts the auction himself. Unfortunately, a very rare signed edition of Dickens' "Pickwick Papers" turns out to be a forgery. The cops suspect Blackie, so he remains in disguise and, with help from his sidekick the Runt and from Kittridge's lovely assistant Gloria, tries to track down the real crook. He discovers that a man named Hadley is the forger, but Hadley is bumped off before Blackie can turn him in. Now Blackie, wanted for murder, doubles down to solve the case, not realizing that Gloria is actually in cahoots with the real crook, Jack Higgins. This hour-long thriller is light on its feet, contains many funny moments—mostly involving Morris, George E. Stone as the Runt, and Richard Lane as his nemesis, Inspector Farraday—and has a good cast. In addition to Morris and Stone, who always work well together, Lynn Merrick is very good as the two-faced gal pal, and it was nice to see one of my favorite B-movie leads, Steve Cochran, as the slimy but handsome bad guy. A nice treat for Boston Blackie fans. Pictured above are Stone, Morris and Cochran. [TCM]

LUXURY LINER (1933)

In the same way that GRAND HOTEL followed the intersecting storylines of a number of people staying in a Berlin hotel, this film follows the same formula with a number of people on a luxury liner sailing from Germany to New York City. In an opening vignette, we see the contrast between a young lad excited to get 20 marks for his voyage from his father, and a rich businessman casually tossing a 20 mark tip to a steward. This highlights one of the movie's thematic concerns, the class differences of the passengers, from lower class folks down in steerage to the wealthy up in first class. Among the characters we get to know: Zita Johann is a young nurse with a tragedy in her past that keeps her aloof and a bit mysterious; George Brent is a doctor who boards at the last minute in order to talk his estranged wife out of leaving him; Vivienne Osborne is Brent's wife who may be a bit tightly wound, and the man she's running off with is Frank Morgan, a wealthy shipping magnate; C. Aubrey Smith is a former clothing manufacturer who just got out of jail for embezzlement; Alice White is a flirty little gold-digger who wants to latch onto a man who can get her up to first class, though she’s not above a little flirtation with the cute elevator operator (Henry Wadsworth), both pictured at right.

As in GRAND HOTEL, the plots develop slowly as characters interact with each other. Brent, who arrives at the ship practically in hysterics wanting his wife back, talks the ship's doctor, an old friend of his, into letting let him take over for this trip. As Brent works with Johann and she sees his calm, inspiring bedside manner with a young mother and an elderly woman, she begins to thaw and romantic feelings spring up. Still, Brent confronts Osborne and she brandishes a gun to get him out of her cabin. Later, however, she finds out that her new lover is flirting with an opera singer and she pretty much snaps. Down in steerage, Smith becomes popular when he agrees to help the desperate lower-class travelers invest their money in stocks that White overheard Morgan talking up. By the end, there is a birth, a murder, a suicide, and some financial reversals. Some plotlines end predictably (Brent and Johann), some not (White and Smith). This was an enjoyable melodrama, though the tone remains relatively light throughout despite the murder and suicide. The acting is fine, with Johann, Osborne and White as standouts, and it’s fun to see C. Aubrey Smith out of his comfort zone—rich grandfathers—doing something a little different. This is the second time this summer I've seen Alice White and I think she's an underrated comic actress, with a little bit of a Harlow vibe, though sweeter and more pixieish. I ran across this rarity on YouTube and it's worth digging around to find. [YouTube]

INNER SANCTUM (1948)

An older gentleman (Fritz Leiber) is chatting with a young woman (Eve Miller) on a train, and she comes to believe he may have psychic powers. The rest of the movie is the story he tells her. A woman very much like her gets off a train to meet her lover (Charles Russell, pictured), but during an altercation he accidentally stabs her to death and, while dumping her wrapped-up body in a cargo car on the train, is glimpsed by a young boy (Dale Belding). Russell gets a ride with a friendly newspaper editor to a nearby small town where he finds lodging at a boarding house. The occupants include a harmless drunk, a flirtatious totsy (Mary Beth Hughes), a single mother (Lee Patrick), and, of course, the little boy who saw him at the train station. At first, the boy doesn't realize that Russell was involved in a murder, but soon news reaches the town about the corpse being discovered and Belding, who has to share his bedroom with Russell, starts getting suspicious. Can Russell escape town with Hughes before the boy becomes a threat? Or will the boy become his second victim?

The title, which has nothing to do with the plot, is from a series of mystery books and a radio show from the 40s. Universal produced a series of Inner Sanctum B-movies with Lon Chaney Jr. but this is not related to those, except that it's a mystery with overtones of film noir and the supernatural. As such, it's interesting though there is a tone problem with too much comic relief throughout. The editor and the drunk are both present mostly for comedy purposes, and even Lee Patrick gets her share of humorous lines. Charles Russell, however, is deadly serious and gives a good, tense performance, though at times it seems at odds with every other performance except that of the boy, who does a nice job being both scared and adventurous. If Russell's character was fleshed out more (as it is, we know virtually nothing about him), he'd be a solid noir lead. The supernatural element comes into play in the frame story with Leiber (the father of the fantasy author with the same name) and provides a nice sting at the end of the story. A memorably clichéd exchange: Hughes, to Russell, "You're even too bad for me"; Russell, in reply, "You're very pretty—when those lips aren't moving." [Streaming]

HOUSEWIFE (1934)

Bill (George Brent) was once a high school football hero, but now he's an office manager at an advertising firm. He wants to work on ad campaigns, but his boss belittles his every attempt to step outside the boundaries of his job. His wife Nan (Ann Dvorak) encourages him to stand up for himself, but things remain status quo until two things happen: his brother-in-law gets a better job, and his boss hires Pat (Bette Davis), an old school chum of Bill's, as an ad writer, and then humiliates Bill in front of Pat. Nan has saved a little money which she gives to Bill so he can quit and start his own ad agency. He struggles for a while but finally breaks into the big time when he snags Paul (John Halliday), a cosmetics magnate, as a client, even giving him advice about how to boost sales—by slapping a "double strength" label on his skin cream and doubling the price. Soon Bill has a very successful business, and has even hired Pat as a copy writer, which is, of course, the beginning of his downfall when he and Pat start an affair. To muddy the waters even more, Paul, sensing the situation, comes on to Nan. Soon, Bill and Nan head to divorce court until a near-tragedy in the family makes the two reconsider.

Technically, this movie was released a couple of months after the Production Code went into effect, but it gets away with presenting fairly explicitly an extramarital affair without really having to "punish" either of the participants. Davis was near a crossroads in her career—this was the first movie that came out after OF HUMAN BONDAGE made her a sensation—and though Ann Dvorak has the title role, and arguably the more important role, Davis is billed ahead of her and with good reason. Even at half-speed in a supporting part, Davis throws sparks and is the main reason to watch this, though Brent makes for a very appealing lead. Unfortunately, Dvorak comes off rather blandly, though our sympathy still remains with her character. Ruth Donnelly is fun as Dvorak's sister-in-law, and Hobart Cavanaugh and Robert Barrat are fine in supporting roles. This is mild, light-toned if not exactly comic, melodrama and is generally entertaining, but not a major Bette Davis film. Pictured are Davis and Brent. [DVD]

CANDLES AT NINE (1944)

Everard Hope is an cranky old man who lives in a large house in which the rule is, no electric lights after 9:00, only candles—we're never told why; there are references to the wartime blackouts, but this seems to be a family rule from way back. Even his pet parrot constantly squawks out, "Lights, you damned fool, lights!" Everard has collected his relatives in order to have a reading of his will, but the night before, he runs out of his bedroom yelling, "Fire!" and falls down the stairs to his death. It turns out that he's left his money to Dorothea, a chorus girl whom none of the other relatives know. The catch is that she must spend a month living in the house before she can claim the estate. Dorothea is advised by the rather sinister-looking housekeeper Julia that she might be in danger if she accepts the challenge—there is some mystery concerning the death of Everard's brother years ago in a fall from a window in the house, and Julia implies that she might not survive her tenancy. Nevertheless, Dorothea starts spending money she doesn't quite have yet, goes out for drinks with some flirtatious cousins, and moves in. William Gordon, a former detective, has his suspicions about some of the relatives and starts hanging around, trying to keep her safe.

This movie tries to span several genres: old dark house thriller, comedy, musical—we see Dorothea sing and dance at a club—and never really comes together. Horror movie fans in particular are likely to be disappointed at the lack of any real scares. Still, it's kind of fun, with good atmosphere and a scene-stealing performance from Beatrix Lehmann as the housekeeper (pictured), who functions as a kind of Mrs. Danvers character. She and Eliot Makeham (as the cranky old man) are the only ones who really take their roles seriously. The star of the film is Jessie Matthews, a stage and screen star in England, though this wound up being her last major movie before she had a second career on British television. One character says to her, "Gosh! You’re plucky!" but for me, she called to mind a low-energy Ann Miller. There’s also two comic relief brothers (Reginald Purdell and Hugh Dempster) who vie ineptly for Dorothea's hand. A few amusing lines crop up. When we see Dorothea do her act, she is accompanied on stage by Maurice, introduced by the MC as "not her husband and not likely to be." Later the brothers come to visit Dorothea and are told by Julia that she "is in but not at home," to which one of them replies, "Bit of a contortionist, what?" [YouTube]

THE IRON PETTICOAT (1957)

In this Cold War rehash of the Greta Garbo classic NINOTCHKA, Katharine Hepburn plays a Russian pilot who is forced out of the sky when she violates American air space in Germany. The Americans hope that she's a defector, but she claims she left Russia in a fit of pique because a man was promoted over her. She's not interested in being part of any anti-Communist propaganda (she despises the superficiality of American women who are only interested "only in nail polish and false bosoms"), but the Air Force would like to change her mind, so a major (Bob Hope) is put in charge of taking Hepburn to London and softening her up so she'll be a good little defector. Of course, as he tries to convert her, she tries to convert him to socialism, and slowly, despite the presence of Hope's fiancée, they start to fall in love.

Let me repeat that: Katherine Hepburn and Bob Hope fall in love. That is the main gimmick behind this movie, and it plays out as badly as you would expect. Though both actors are professionals and seem to be trying as hard as they can, they both seem very uncomfortable, with the picture above epitomizing their on-screen chemistry. Hepburn's accent is grating (and varies occasionally) and she looks dreadful; Hope mostly acts like he's in a Road movie with Bing Crosby—when someone insults him by calling him a "dog nose," Hope replies, "Oh, you got a little Crosby blood in ya!" Apparently, Hope brought in some of his own gag writers to "polish" the dialogue, and the screenwriter, the legendary Ben Hecht, had his name taken out of the official credits. Hepburn wasn't too happy, either, and the two had a frosty relationship. It's not quite a disaster; if nothing else, I like to tell friends that I've seen a romantic comedy with Hepburn and Hope, and watch their reactions. If you're expecting a Bob Hope comedy, you’ll probably like it, but if you want a Hepburn comedy like The Philadelphia Story or Bringing Up Baby, avoid it like the plague. [TCM]

TOO LATE BLUES (1961)

John Cassavetes' first movie for a big studio—and one of his last, as he eventually went on to forge a career as the godfather of American independent cinema—charts the rise and fall of a jazz musician (Bobby Darin) following the typical trajectory of such showbiz tales: hardscrabble beginnings, clashes with fellow musicians over his art, temptation to hit it big by selling out, leaving his buddies in the lurch because he has to follow his own muse, hitting bottom, seeing the error of his ways and maybe making a comeback in the end. Some of Cassavetes' later style is on display here, especially in the interesting camera moves and use of close-ups, but the narrative is slow-moving and several individual scenes go on too long, especially the odd poolroom fight scene between Darin's combo and a punk (Vince Edwards). Darin is good, if a bit of a cold fish, as the pianist torn between art and commercialism; Stella Stevens is very good as a somewhat neurotic (but in mostly a low-key fashion) young singer who Darin discovers and adds to his band; the actors playing the band members, including a young and surprisingly boyish Seymour Cassel, give naturalistic performances, though the music was actually played by pros including Benny Carter, Jimmy Rowles and Tommy Tedesco. The standout performance is given by Everett Chambers as Darin's agent who actually comes across as the most complex character—he cares about Darin, but he also cares about the band and making money, and he occasionally sleeps with Stevens. He acts sometimes in reprehensible ways but he's not a one-note villain. Chambers (pictured above with Darin behind him) left acting for a career in TV producing (including Peyton Place, Columbo, and Cassavetes' short-lived jazz/detective show Johnny Staccato). Marilyn Clark has a small role as a middle-aged woman who "keeps" Darin for a time. The score by David Raksin is fine, especially the fun opening number played by the band for a group of children. [TCM]

THE LOST VOLCANO (1950)

aka BOMBA AND THE LOST VOLCANO

Zoologist Paul Gordon (Donald Woods) is living with his wife Ruth and young son David in the middle of an African jungle, studying animals. David occasionally goes off to roam the wilds with his buddy Bomba the Jungle Boy, who has even provided him with a matching loincloth, but Paul and Ruth think Bomba is an imaginary friend. However, we have seen Bomba (Johnny Sheffield) secretly free some animals that Paul and his men captured one night. Meanwhile, Dr. Langley, an ethnologist from the Cairo Museum, shows up with his assistants Barton and Higgins, and wants to hire Paul to take them to find a dormant volcano which may point them toward a buried lost city. At first, Paul declines, saying he wants to take his family back to civilization, but soon, a jewel-studded knife that Bomba found near the volcano and gave to David as a gift ups the ante. Barton and Higgins volunteer to take David back to the city so Paul can lead their expedition, but actually the two kidnap David and try to force him to take them to the volcano so they can get their hands on whatever treasures there may be. Paul and Ruth and Langley go after the men. When Bomba gets in on the chase, there's all kinds of excitement: Barton shoots Bomba's vine in two, a python attacks Higgins, Bomba wrestles a crocodile, there’s more gunplay, and of course, guess which volcano suddenly picks this time to get active?

By now in the series, Bomba is a Jungle Teenager—Sheffield was 19—but he can still pull off some stand-offish charm, or charming stand-offishness, though it's clear Bomba would rather horse around with kids than start dating. This is the first Bomba movie that doesn't provide a young woman who falls for Bomba, and that's OK. One critic notes disparagingly that Sheffield has a wrestler's build rather than a swimmer's build like Johnny Weissmuller had as Tarzan—Weissmuller may have been, early in the Tarzan series, sleeker and more aesthetically pleasing, but Sheffield is just a different kind of beefcake. Young Tommy Ivo is fine as David, his character clearly intended to help skew the audience toward children. Woods and Marjorie Lord are adequate in the adult leads, and John Ridgely, on a downhill slide from his heyday as a supporting actor at Warner Brothers, is good as one of the bad guys. The action picks up nicely in the last 15 minutes as the volcano begins to boil. The "lost city" trope, common in Tarzan stories and other jungle adventures, will undoubtedly return in later series entries. [DVD]

BEHIND GREEN LIGHTS (1946)

Sleazy reporter Walter Bard is visited by socialite Janet Bradley (Carole Landis), daughter of a mayoral candidate. He's holding incriminating papers and wants money for them, but Janet could only raise half the money, so after negotiations fail, she pulls out a gun, takes the papers by force, and leaves. Meanwhile, it's just another night at the nearby police station where new reporter Johnny Williams (Richard Crane) is being shown around the press room and Lt. Sam Carson (William Gargan) is warning some rowdy young people to stay home, listen to the radio and eat donuts rather than go carousing at "questionable joints." Suddenly, a car runs up over the curb in front of the station and a dead body falls out, that of Walter Bard, apparently killed by gunshot. Janet's name is found on Bard's calendar and she is called in for questioning. Carson gets a little sweet on her and tries hard to clear her name, though she admits to having had a gun. Meanwhile, newspaper publisher Max Calvert is told that a more detailed examination of the body discovered that Bard was actually killed by poison, not a gunshot wound, but as Janet's father is Calvert's chief rival for mayor, Calvert gets Yager, the coroner, to swap Bard's body for a John Doe body, hoping to strengthen the case against Janet which will hurt her father's chances on election day. In a comedy of errors, Bard's body winds up stashed away in the press room closet. And two more suspects enter the scene: Bard's estranged wife Nora (Mary Anderson) and her lawyer/boyfriend. Can Carson clear Janet's name before Calvert's paper smears her father's name?

This generally fun B-cop movie has a bit too much plot for its budget. The storylines and characters are interesting, but the execution leaves something to be desired. There is a fair amount of action, but leading man Gargan, whom I usually like, is pretty much confined to office scenes of expository dialogue, leaving the supporting cast to keep things moving. Richard Crane (pictured standing, with Gargan in the car), who I know as 50s TV sci-fi hero Rocky Jones, is especially fun as the reporter who finds the dead body, though after being set up in the beginning as an important character, he basically vanishes from the last half. Fred Sherman has a small but crucial role as a boxer who escapes police custody in order to get one last fight in. You actually hear the cliché line, "Get me rewrite, sweetheart" during a frantic press room scene. The print of this shown on the streaming channel Café Noir was not good, and quite chopped up in the beginning, and to make matters worse, the channel took this full screen film and blew it up to make it look widescreen, thereby frequently cutting off the tops of people's heads and making it impossible to read the opening text scrawl. Shame on you, Café Noir! [Streaming]

THE SHADOW (1933)

This film has nothing to do with the pulp fiction hero The Shadow, aka Lamont Cranston. Instead, it's an early sound "old dark house" B-mystery from England, and more enjoyable than the Lamont Cranston movies I've seen. A sinister figure known only as The Shadow has been blackmailing famous people, leading to a string of suicides of people (a movie star, a financier, a politician) who can't pay his price. Elliot, a Scotland Yard man, tries to con the Shadow by posing as someone who wants to sell him some incriminating letters, but their meeting ends with Elliot shot dead. Found in Elliot's hand is a small charm of a closed fist, the only physical clue the police have. That weekend, Sir Richard, the head of Scotland Yard, has a small house party, and Inspector Fleming, who worked on tracing the charm, thinks the Shadow might be drawn to Sir Richard's to get the charm back. Staying at the house that foggy Friday night: Sir Richard's flighty aunt, his lovely daughter Sonia, her sturdy fiancée Beverley, and an eccentric mystery novelist named Reggie who is the absolute stereotype of an upper-class British twit. Stopping by later is a stranded motorist named Jim and his sister Moya, who we know are not what they claim to be—Jim has some kind score from the past to settle with Sir Richard. There's also the butler who is spotted letting a suspicious figure in through a window. When Inspector Fleming is shot just as he's about to say who he thinks the Shadow is, Inspector Carr arrives with his men, having to deal with 1) Reggie trying to be helpful; 2) the aunt being nervous; 3) finding out that Sonia thinks the mysterious charm looks familiar, and 4) discovering that the key to the safe where the charm is being kept has gone missing.

Undoubtedly a "quota quicke," made to satisfy a law requiring that a certain percentage of movies shown in Great Britain be British productions, this low-budget mystery is great fun. It's paced well, with few slow sections, and the actors all acquit themselves nicely. The only actors in the cast that I'm familiar with are Elizabeth Allan as Sonia and Feliz Aylmer as Sir Richard. The standout is Henry Kendall (pictured at right with Allan) as the goofy Reggie, though as with much comic relief, some may get their fill of his twittering inanities earlier than others. He calls everyone "Old bean" or "Old thing," even when they ask him not to. There are some witty one-liners and though the film is rather stagy—the bulk of it happens on just a couple of sets—it generally doesn't feel static. There are a couple of plotholes, and given the identity of the Shadow, the film doesn't play fair in at least one scene, but all's well that ends well. Enjoyable. [YouTube]

VICE RAID (1960)

An off-screen narrator tells us that the Syndicate is like an octopus with its "dirty tentacles" in gambling, drugs and prostitution. We see cops Whitey (Richard Coogan) and Ben (Joseph Sullivan) stop small-time crook Muggsy for "transporting," i.e., bringing an unmarried female across state lines to work, one assumes, as a hooker. While Whitey is otherwise occupied, Ben tells Muggsy to beat it, then shoots him dead, letting us know that Ben is on the syndicate payroll and had to kill Muggsy to stop him from ratting on the big boys. Sure enough, big boss Vince (Brad Dexter), who runs several modeling agencies which are fronts for escort services, decides it's time to get Whitey out of his hair. He brings in buxom Carol Hudson (Mamie Van Doren) and lets Whitey snag her, then has her testify that Whitey entrapped her. Whitey gets booted off the force but talks his boss into giving him a chance to clear his name. He sets up a fake call-girl business and starts getting Vince's agencies closed down. Meanwhile Carol, who has been set up in a nice apartment as Vince's mistress, is shocked when her kid sister Louise shows up to visit her in the big city with hopes of becoming a model just like Carol. When Louise falls prey in a particularly awful way to the bad guys, Carol joins Whitey in his attempt to bring Vince to justice. This is a fairly well-paced B film, though Mamie Van Doren is pretty much the only reason to watch this to the end. The story is predictable, the lead actor (Coogan) is almost completely without charm, and the characters are one-dimensional. Brad Dexter brings some heat to his villain role, the stern narration lends the proceedings a pleasant campy aura, and the sexy sax music score is out of control. Favorite line: when Vince says to Carol, "You like money, don’t you?" she replies, "If I'd wanted glory, I'd have joined the WACS." Pictured above are Van Doren and Coogan. [Netflix streaming]

RIO RITA (1942)

This is an odd duck of a film. It's based very loosely on a 1920s stage musical which was filmed at the dawn of the sound era as a vehicle for the comedians Wheeler and Woolsey who also starred in the Broadway production. Here, some of the songs have been retained, but the original plot involving a search by the Texas Rangers for a notorious Mexican bandit has been completely revamped for the slapsticky talents of Abbott and Costello, and for the wartime setting. Bud and Lou are stranded in Texas and hop into the trunk of a car with New York license plates, hoping to make it back to the Big Apple, but instead wind up at a hotel in a small Texas town near the Mexican border. It turns out they've hopped a ride with John Carroll, a singing star who is returning to his hometown for the first time in years and who starts up a flirtation with the lovely Kathryn Grayson, owner of the local hotel, who had a big crush on him in the past. However, Grayson may have cause to be jealous when Patricia Dane, who works for the hotel manager (Tom Conway), starts making a play for Carroll. Unbeknownst to our heroes, the hotel and the local radio station are nests of Nazi spies—led by Conway—who hope to get a coded message out in Carroll's big national broadcast. The best bits along the way to the predictable ending involve boxes of artificial apples that are actually miniature radios, a gigantic industrial washing machine in which Lou gets stuck, and the climactic arrival of singing Texas Rangers.

I loved Abbott and Costello when I was a kid; I have fond memories of seeing them on the local afternoon movie show and at school when they would sometimes show Friday afternoon movies. But they eventually lost their appeal to me, especially when I discovered the Marx Brothers, and I have rarely revisited their films in my adulthood. This was an early one that they did on loan to MGM from Universal, and it has more of the feel of a glossy MGM musical than it does a mid-budget Abbott & Costello romp. In fact, it feels like three different movies: an A&C comedy of bungling, an MGM musical, and a straight-up romance. The fit is a bit awkward at times, but frankly I found it rather fun to be bounced around between genres, especially when the likable John Carroll and the talented Kathryn Grayson (both pictured above) are providing the musical and romantic relief from the comedy. Barry Nelson has a small role as a government agent and Peter Whitney is effective as a Nazi thug. Overall, the few musical interludes are not memorable except for the Rangers song. A likable movie, if not one for the ages. [TCM]

THE ARNELO AFFAIR (1947)

Lawyer Ted Parkson (George Murphy) is a nice guy but has become obsessed with his work to the point where his wife Anne (Frances Gifford) feels neglected. One night, when the couple is supposed to go out on the town with their friend Vivian (Eve Arden), Ted begs off because he has brought home a new client, nightclub owner Tony Arnelo (John Hodiak). This is the last straw for Anne, especially when Tony begins a subtle flirtation with her; when Tony finds out that she has been dabbling in interior design, he asks her to head up a redesign of his club. She resists his increasing pressure to become his mistress, especially when she meets Claire Lorrison and discovers that she is also his lover. The next day, Claire is found dead and clues point to Anne as the killer.

As noirs go, this is fairly tepid. The one unusual aspect is that a woman is the noir hero—well-intended and sympathetic but caught in a problem partly of her own making. Gifford is good, indeed, the best actor in the cast. Hodiak is slick enough, but plays most of his scenes like a deer caught in headlights. Murphy is a zero—which, to be fair, his character is supposed to be, and Arden, as is often the case, shines in her few spotlight moments but doesn’t get much to do. 11-year-old Dean Stockwell plays the Parkson's son, and Dorothy Dandridge's mother Ruby has a very small role as their maid. Directed by cult radio figure Arch Oboler. [TCM]