MOONFLEET (1955)

A moody opening (reminiscent of GREAT EXPECTATIONS) is the best thing about this routine pirate melodrama which plays out like a cross between JAMAICA INN and a Disney kid's adventure. Young orphan Jon Whiteley is sent to the town of Moonfleet, a British coast town, to be taken care of by town squire Stewart Granger who, despite his respectable trappings, is also the head of a local smuggling ring. Most of the story is seen through the boy's eyes as Granger's men (including Melville Cooper and Sean McClory) become figures of menace when Whiteley finds a code that leads to the discovery of a missing valuable jewel. Viveca Lindfors is underused as Granger's lover; also underused are George Sanders and Joan Greenwood as a scheming couple. Dancer Liliane Montevecchi has a sexy (if totally out of the blue) dance number. Scenes set in graveyards and secret passages are properly atmospheric but the film, like many 50's movies, is too bloated to be fun, or to be taken seriously. Directed by Fritz Lang using a widescreen process (which he was on record as despising).

TWO IN THE DARK (1936)

Nifty B-mystery which begins quite effectively with a close-up of the face of Walter Abel--he is stumbling through a foggy park at night, disoriented and with a small head wound. He has amnesia and becomes convinced that he was involved in the murder earlier that night of a theaterical producer. With the help of an out-of-work actress (Margot Grahame) whom he meets in the park, Abel tries to figure out who he is and how he's tied to the murder. Some circumstantial evidence suggests that he is the dead man's chauffeur but after hooking up with a cop (Alan Hale) and a reporter (Wallace Ford) by pretending to be a reporter himself, Abel and Grahame begin to solve the puzzle. The solution involves the manuscript of a play and a writer who was being cheated out of money and credit. The strong supporting cast includes Eric Blore, Erik Rhodes, Leslie Fenton, and Ward Bond. I've always liked Abel, who usually played supporting roles (HOLIDAY INN, AN AMERICAN ROMANCE) and he makes a good B-lead here in one of his earliest movies.

THE EAGLE AND THE HAWK (1933)

Spoilers included!
A superb WWI film; though it doesn't have the epic sweep or tone of ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT, it does have a strong anti-war message and is almost as powerful as the earlier, better known film. Fredric March is a pilot for the British Air Corps who becomes a "top gun" in the skies over France, heading several successful missions. He slowly becomes distressed as he loses a total of five "observers" during his flights, men who sit behind him and observe the ground for enemy information. Despite these losses of life, he is still hailed as a hero every time he returns, and this begins to temper his initial gung-ho attitude. Cary Grant is a fellow serviceman who doesn't cut it as a pilot and is relegated to observer status, causing some resentment between the two men. Jack Oakie is buddy to both men and tries to keep the peace. The growing disillusionment of all the men is shown--at first, they have a boyish, sporting ethusiasm for their job, but the growing death and destruction get to them all. When Grant kills a German who was parachuting from a burning plane, he is ostracized by the other men for not playing fair.

At one point, March is given a leave, visits Paris, and has a brief fling with Carole Lombard (billed as "The Beautiful Lady"), but when he returns his attitude isn't much better. Shocked at the youthfulness of the new pilots, he snaps completely when he shoots down a renowned German ace who turns out to be just a boy. March delivers an impassioned, if not totally coherent, anti-war speech at a drunken party given in his honor, then goes to his room and kills himself. Grant finds him and takes extraordinary measures to make sure his death is seen as brave and sacrificial. Grant is very good in a role unlike any others in his career. March is outstanding, especially in the last half. Oakie has an amusing line spoken to a young lady that probably could not have gotten in under the Production Code a year later: "You might be Fifi to the rest of the world, but you're nothing but Fanny to me." An excellent movie that deserves to be much better known. It doesn't crop up on cable, but it is available on video and worth seeking out.

THE DEVIL BAT (1941)

A notorious Poverty Row horror "classic" which feels in retrospect very much like a forerunner of the films of Ed Wood. Bela Lugosi is Dr. Carruthers, a seemingly kindly old doctor in a small town who, unbeknowest to the populace, has been experimenting with producing large mutant bats in his home laboratory--we're told this in an opening title card, the lazy, no-budget way of gettting exposition across. He's disgruntled because he feels cheated out of his share of the Heath cosmetics millions; he creates scents, but sold out his rights for cash years ago, and now gets no dividends from the company's success. His new scent is disguised as a men's shaving lotion, but it actually works to both attract and repel his giant bats, who hunt down and kill whoever is wearing it. A couple of times, the bat is effective, but mostly it's a ludicrous effect, looking like a tired buzzard on wires. Dave O'Brien, known more for the Dave Smith short comedy films of the 40's, is a wisecracking reporter; Donald Kerr, an uncredited bit player in hundreds of movies, is the gratingly silly photographer One-Shot McGuire; Suzanne Kaaren is the lame female lead. The sets are cheap, the acting mostly third-rate. Lugosi is OK, except when he continues to exaggeratedly intone, "Good-BYE!" to his future victims as he gives them the shaving lotion. This has become famous as one of Lugosi's worst movies, though it's not quite as bad as his Ed Wood films of the 50's. Too bad that MST3K never got their hands on this one.

DESPERATE (1947)

A minor entry from the classic era of film noir. The first few minutes set up the situation: Steve Brodie is a trucker with a new wife (Audrey Long) and a fledgling independent business. Raymond Burr, an acquaintance from years ago, hires Brodie for what seems to be a routine job but which actually ends up as a heist. Once Brodie realizes what's happening, he tries to back out but not before the whole thing goes bad: a cop is shot and Burr's kid brother is arrested and charged with murder. Burr tries to force Brodie to take the rap by threatening to get his wife, but Brodie and Long manage to get out of town. Most of the rest of the movie follows their progress from city to farmland (where they stay briefly with Long's family) to the West Coast, where Burr finally catches up with him on the night of the brother's execution. The highlight of the movie is an archetypal noir scene of torture (Burr beating up Brodie) beneath a swinging bare light bulb in a dark basement. There are a few other visual treats as well, including the climax which takes place on an apartment stairwell. There's a surreal moment when Brodie hides in a truck filled with gigantic carnival faces. Douglas Fowley is a detective Burr hires to find Brodie; Jason Robards Sr. is a cop who isn't sure whom to believe. The lead couple is rather bland, but Burr is very creepy. Directed by Anthony Mann, known for his noirs and westerns.

JEWEL ROBBERY (1932)

Because this feels so much like Ernst's Lubitsch's classic TROUBLE IN PARADISE, it's bound to come off as a sort of poor cousin to that film, but this has some charms of its own, primarily in the chemistry of the romantic leads. In Vienna, bored rich Kay Francis is getting an expensive diamond ring as a gift from her husband, the Baron (Henry Kolker). While in the jewelry store with him (and her young lover, Hardie Albright), suave and daring jewel thief William Powell shows up with a large gang of assistants and cleans out the store; he holds them all at gunpoint but is charming and gentlemanly about the whole thing. He even gets a security guard (Spencer Charters) to help him (unwittingly) get the gems out to his getaway car. Francis flirts with Powell; she's attracted by Powell's looks and daring, but she also wants her ring back. He locks everyone up but her and she lets him escape, claiming later to the police that she fainted. Powell sneaks into Francis' bedroom and returns the ring while also planning to stash the gems in her safe until the heat dies down, but his plans appear to be dashed when a detective (Alan Mowbray) catches him trying to escape out the window. However, things are not quite as they appear and ultimately, Powell gets away scot-free to France and the married Francis, in the very last shot of the film, lets us know she'll be joining him.

The first 20 minutes or so drag a bit as the characters of Francis and her group are set up, but when Francis and Powell are on screen together, they keep things interesting. This is the absolute model of a pre-Code film, with the thief getting away and the married lady having affairs and going unpunished. Most surprsingly, however, is the importance of marijuana to the plot. Powell hands out "drugged" cigarettes to keep folks off-guard, and they are clearly filled with pot. They make people dizzy and happy; the smokers eventually fall asleep and wake up with healthy appetites. The funniest scene in the film has the disgraced security guard getting high with the chief of police (Clarence Wilson). Helen Vinson plays Francis' best friend and has a few good lines, though generally she is underused. Ruth Donnelly has a small role as a maid. Despite a few Lubitsch-like touches, this is not as frothy or "sophisticated" as the genuine article, but it's certainly likeable and a must-see for any fans of Powell or Francis.

BERLIN CORRESPONDENT (1942)

This WWII B-thriller from Twentieth Century Fox is a mixed bag, certainly not as scrappy or light on its feet as a similar Warner Brothers film would be. Dana Andrews is a foreign correspondent (in Berlin, of course) in November, 1941, just before the Americans enter the war. He gets tips about German troop movements and "smuggles" them over the airwaves in code so his newspaper is able to get a string of exclusive stories. Gestapo captain Martin Kosleck enlists his own fiancee (Virginia Gilmore) to figure out how Andrews is getting his information, but she is unaware that the spy helping Andrews is none other than her own father (Erwin Kalser) who seems to be just a harmless stamp collector. Kalser is put in a concentration camp then transfered to an asylum; Andrews poses as a Nazi to get him out, but that's only the beginning of his troubles. Kosleck's jealous secretary (Mona Maris) throws monkey wrenches into everyone's plans. The movie has a vaguely uncomfortable mix of tension and humor, starting with a running gag about how easy it is for Andrews to outfox whoever is assigned to tail him. At one point, when Andrews starts talking about putting Kosleck on trial, the Gestapo man replies, "Court? Trial? My dear man, this is *Germany*!" Gilmore, who had a short career at Fox as a B-film actress, looks a little like June Lockhart. Short (70 minutes) and filled with incident, but not as fun as it should be.

LITTLE TOUGH GUY (1938)

The first in a B-movie series spun off from the Dead End Kids, done by Universal. Billy Halop is Johnny, a kid from a working class neighborhood in New York City; his father, while working as a scab, accidentally kills a cop during a wild fracas. With the father in jail, the family moves to a lower-class area and Halop gets in with a gang of street toughs, including Gabriel Dell, Huntz Hall, and David Gorcey. They all wind up "adopted" by a snooty rich kid (Jackie Searl) who craves a taste of danger and helps the kids pull off a small scale crime spree. Halop briefly winds up in a reform school but the gang breaks him out. When one of the kids is killed by police gunfire, the whole group ends up in reform school, including Searl. The ending implies that they are all are indeed getting reformed and on their ways to solid, productive futures--what other ending was possible in those days? Peggy Stewart is a girl from the old neighborhood who remains sweet on Halop. A drab, lifeless actor named Robert Wilcox is the drab, lifeless "hero" who is sweet on Halop's sister and tries to help the family out. Marjorie Main is not at her best as Halop's miserable whining mother. A few more Little Tough Guys movies followed, but I don't think I need to see any others.

THE GREAT AMERICAN BROADCAST (1941)

An totally fictional account of how radio became a mass medium. The movie begins in a sprightly and humorous way but, like many Fox musicals of the era, it gets bogged down when it tries to get serious around the halfway point. John Payne is a young WWI vet who has just failed at his first business, a small airport; he meets up with enterprising Jack Oakie who has ideas about using radio as a vehicle for entertainment. With financial backing from Cesar Romero, they begin broadcasting live music and boxing matches to a citywide audience, eventually building to a nationwide network. Oakie's singer girlfriend, Alice Faye, falls for Payne (given the choice between Payne and Oakie, who wouldn't?) which leads to a falling-out between the buddies. Oakie & Romero hit it rich--Payne and Faye get married, but when she goes behind Payne's back to get some money from Romero for their enterprise, proud Payne leaves her. All are reconciled by the end in a number that might have influenced the end of HOLIDAY INN. We see quick clips of Jack Benny and Kate Smith in the beginning; the Nicholas Brothers do a spectacularly athletic dance number and the comic Weire Brothers do songs and jokes, including a very funny ad for Chapman's Cheerful Cheese. Despite the downturn in the last half, this is worth watching, especially for fans of Faye and Payne. Even Oakie is a little less obnoxious than usual. One complaint--the period detail (supposedly the 20's) is virtually non-exisistent.

CRACK-UP (1946)

A noirish thriller with potential, rendered somewhat bland due to the two male leads, Pat O'Brien and Herbert Marshall. O'Brien plays an expert on art and art forgeries who works for the Manhattan Museum. Early in the film, we see him come crashing into the lobby of the museum, apparently drunk, smashing some windows and a sculpture. After he is subdued, he claims that the last thing he remembers was escaping a dangerous train wreck, but there is no report of any train accident that night. He loses his job but is determined, with the help of Claire Trevor, to get to the bottom of his predicament. The scene in which he boards the train in an attempt to recreate what happened to him the night of the supposed accident is suspenseful and plays out very nicely. It turns out that some forgers at the museum who want O'Brien out of the way are behind his unusual experience (and the explanation of that experience is clever, if a bit far-fetched). Herbert Marshall plays an ill-defined character on the sidelines who, it turns out, works for Scotland Yard. Ray Collins is the chief bad guy and Wallace Ford is a cop. The plot partially turns on the dichotomy between high art and popular art, in a way similiar to how many 40's musicals played on the split between classical music and modern jazz.

THE GAY BRIDE (1934)

I will make no double entendre pun on the title and simply note that no matter what meaning of "gay" you apply, none seem quite right as a way to describe the bride in this movie, Carole Lombard, a minxy, gold digging show girl out to marry for money alone. She gets gangster Nat Pendleton, who has helped finance her Broadway show, to marry her, then goes about fleecing him by draining his bank account, not realizing that he's not as rich as she assumed. Chester Morris is Pendleton's assistant (he goes by the name Office Boy) who stays clean and legal and who figures out right quick what Lombard is up to. Pendleton winds up getting bumped off and Lombard takes up with the man responsible (Sam Hardy); when he gets his, she gravitates toward another alpha thug, Leo Carillo. Along the way, she and Morris have an antagonistic but bantering relationship, which in movies like this means that they wind up together at the end. Zasu Pitts is Lombard's friend; Gene Lockhart, in only his second sound film, has a small uncredited role, as does Eddie 'Rochester' Anderson. There's an elaborate musical number, "Mississippi Honeymoon" that is really the high point of the film. Morris is fine, but I remain unimpressed with Lombard--I think she was fine in NOTHING SACRED, but otherwise I'm not a big fan of hers. The movie, though made after the implementation of the Production Code, has a pre-Code morality feel to it. While it's classified as a comedy, and does have a light tone, it's not very funny, perhaps partly because it's rather difficult to warm up to any of the characters.

PRESENTING LILY MARS (1943)

This is one of Judy Garland's last "young starlet" pictures before she became an adult superstar in MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS the next year. Garland plays the title character, a small town girl who dreams of being a great actress, and who "acts" in real life whenever possible. Her big chance comes when producer Van Heflin visits town to see his mother (Fay Bainter); Garland pesters him incessently and even hitchhikes to Manhattan to get him to cast her in a new play. Richard Carlson is the playwright and Martha Eggerth is the tempermental star who is involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with Heflin. Garland does land a small part, getting inspiration from Connie Gilchrist, a cleaning lady at the theater who once had her own dreams of being a star. Eggerth eventually quits the show and Garland, in a 42ND STREET move, is pegged to replace her, but things don't quite work out and she winds up in a tiny one-line part.

The studio (MGM) must have decided that audiences would react badly to such a relatively downbeat ending, because they undercut it with a finale that features Garland as the star of an elaborate musical number which seems to be taking place either in her imagination or in the future. Garland gets a few good songs, such as a swing version of "Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son," and the "Broadway Rhythm" finale. The first half, set in small town Indiana, is fun, even if Garland's character gets irritating in her quest for attention. Spring Byington is Garland's mother who comes to NYC to see her debut; Ray McDonald, a spirited young man who never got a big break yet is always fun to watch (BABES ON BROADWAY, GOOD NEWS), is wasted as Garland's small town boyfriend; Douglas Croft is Garland's doorknob-stealing little brother--the same year, he played Robin in the BATMAN movie serial. Janet Chapman, a Shirley Temple wannabe, is the little sister. Bob Crosby (Bing's brother) appears with his band and I was amazed how much he sounds like Bing. The most amusing scene has Richard Carlson evesdropping on Garland and Chapman performing a scene from a play which he thinks is a real conversation about how Heflin has gotten Garland "in trouble." Worth a viewing, but not terribly memorable.

WING AND A PRAYER (1944)

My own preferences in WWII movies are either homefront narratives or the propaganda-laden movies from early in the war (set both at home and overseas). But this combat film from later in the war, set entirely on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific, is entertaining and interesting. The movie presents itself as a true story, though it seems to be, at best, a composite of several different possible real-life scenarios. As the U.S. public, months after Pearl Harbor, waits and wonders why the Navy hasn't retaliated against the Japanese in the Pacific, the men on one carrier are even more frustrated when they get orders *not* to engage the Japanese in the air, no matter what. It turns out that ship is a decoy, being sent from place to place in the South Pacific to make the enemy think that the American fleet is weak, scattered, and disorganized, while the Navy is actually building up for the battle of Midway. Don Ameche is the commander of the ship and Dana Andrews is the leader of the pilots. There are occasional clashes between men, often due to movie star turned flyboy William Eythe, but by and large, the cliches of the "men in wartime" movies are avoided (or, perhaps, just hadn't been established yet). One kid, Kevin O'Shea (who made 3 movies in 1944, then seems to have left the business) is grounded due to health problems both physical and mental, but gets a chance to redeem himself in the end. Richard Jaekel, Henry Morgan, and Glenn Langan (more well known as THE AMAZING COLOSSAL MAN in the late 50's) are in the cast; Cedric Hardwicke has a small role in the beginning as an admiral. There's a scene in which the men watch a clip of Betty Grable from TIN PAN ALLEY. The climactic battle, when they are finally allowed to retaliate, is presented mostly over the radio, broadcast throughout the ship. Some authentic carrier footage adds to the atmophere. Quite good--a notch above the average, at least--and Ameche is especially fine playing a bit against type as the stoic commander.

DEATH TAKES A HOLIDAY (1934)

The first half of this movie and the last few minutes are quite good, but most of the middle is deadly dull, making this not quite the classic that its reputation would suggest. It's based on a play, though it works best when it's opened up beyond its stagy and melodramatic roots. Sir Guy Standing is a duke who is holding a weekend house party for a visiting dignitary, Prince Sirki; as the film opens, the prince hasn't arrived yet and two cars full of arriving guests, racing their way through the night, feel a mysterious shadow pass over them just before an accident in which, miraculously, no one is hurt. Later, in the best scene in the film, Death, as a dark-robed Grim Reaper figure, visits the Duke. As the title suggests, Death has decided to take a holiday among the living to find out why he is so feared. Prince Sirki has died and Death takes his form (Fredric March). He is appropriately ill at ease at first in human interaction, but soon warms to the guests, especially Grazia (Evelyn Venable). Two other women, Katharine Alexander and Gail Patrick, set their sights on the prince, but it is Venable who is mesmerized by him without understanding why. At the end of his holiday, the question is, will March take Venable with him as he returns to the infinite. The sets are beautiful and the photography is striking, especially in the first half hour when shadows are used quite well. The romance plot feels like DRACULA in mood, with the death-obsessed woman fascinated by a charming but deadly male. The special effects used for Death's first appearance are great, making Death a paradoxical figure of both dark solidity and transparency. Henry Travers, more famous as the supernatural Clarence in IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE, plays a house guest. Kent Taylor plays Venable's boyfriend, who really doesn't stand much of a chance against the mysterious prince. Despite the doldrums of the middle, the film is worth seeing, and is available (though currently out of print) on DVD in a package with the recent Brad Pitt remake, MEET JOE BLACK.

A CONNECTICUT YANKEE (1931)

My *second* Will Rogers movie, and more fun than JUDGE PRIEST. I find Mark Twain's novel rather heavy-going, but this is a delightful movie. I still don't see Rogers as much of an actor, but when he gets off his dry zingers, he usually hits the mark. He plays the owner of a radio repair shop (and radio station) in a small Connecticut town--we first see him as he introduces a vocal group on the air who sing "Times Are Hard, But So's Your Old Man." On a stormy night, Rogers has to deliver some parts to a creepy mansion; while there, he meets an eccentric group of folks. One young man (Frank Albertson) is dressed up in a suit of armor, chasing a young woman (Maureen O'Sullivan) around the house. Another woman (Myrna Loy) seems to be after both of them. The wacky patriarch (William Farnum) claims to have invented a machine that can tune into sound waves from the past. Soon after Rogers hears what seems to be a message about King Arthur, a suit of armor falls on him. He is knocked out and dreams that he's back in Camelot and the various family members (as in WIZARD OF OZ) are present as well: Farnum is the King, Loy is Morgan Le Fay, etc. Rogers uses his knowledge of future events and technology to become Sir Boss and he introduces telephones, cars, guns, and tanks, and eventually a bomb with which to fight the evil Loy.

The sets and costumes are fine, especially in the creepy old house at the beginning. There are some amusing lines: On arrival, Rogers asks the Camelot citizens, "Canst tellest me where in the helleth I am?" There are jabs at topics such as government, warfare, and business, and Rogers says that advertising is what "makes you spend money you haven't got for things you don't want." (Guess there's nothing new under the sun!) Rogers' best acting is when he uses his foreknowledge of a solar eclipse to appear to be conjuring the eclipse himself. He also gets to lasso a knight during a tourney. Loy and Albertson are good, but O'Sullivan doesn't have much to do. The bitter tone of Twain's finale is carried over here, although the ending, back at the old house where Rogers discovers why everyone was acting strange, is upbeat. Overall, grand fun and highly recommended.

JUDGE PRIEST (1934)

My first Will Rogers movie, though because I saw a very poor quality public domain print of this. I'm not sure I should even be reviewing it. The image was murky and there were several jagged cuts where footage seemed to be missing. Rogers, a beloved folksy humorist, plays a beloved folksy judge in a small town in Kentucky. We get a sense of his everyday life in the casual opening section of the film. Rogers' nephew, played by Tom Brown, comes home with a newly minted law degree. He's in love with Anita Louise, a girl of questionable background, and Brown's mother (Brenda Fowler, who seems to be doing an Edna May Oliver imitation without much success) frowns on the match. Luckily, Rogers is on Brown's side and helps to clear the way for Brown to court Louise. There is a lovely summer evening scene where Rogers recalls his late wife (with one of my favorite songs, "Love's Old Sweet Song," playing in the background). Eventually, the rather unsavory man who fathered Louise (David Landau) is charged with attacking another unsavory man, Frank Melton, and Brown becomes Landau's lawyer. The somewhat incoherent ending dashes any real resolution for a sentimental finale in which a minster invokes love, forgiveness, and the Confederacy, and a "Music Man"-like parade ends the film. Henry B. Walthall and Charley Grapewin are also in the cast. Rogers doesn't seem like much of an actor, coming off like an ameteurish mixture of Andy Griffith and Lionel Barrymore, but I assume this laconic acting style was part and parcel of his overall comic persona. Landau is good, as usual, in creating a mean character you love to hate, though his character is redeemed in the end. There are some cringe-inducing black stereotypes, personified by Stepin Fetchit and Hattie McDaniel, and sadly, McDaniel isn't able to transcend her badly written part as she usually does. Still, an interesting chunk of period Americana.

DANTE'S INFERNO (1935)

A traditional morality tale that runs the gamut from Cecil DeMille (sexy fire and brimstone trappings) to James Cameron (some soapy melodrama right out of TITANIC). Spencer Tracy is a coal shoveler on a ship who has ambitions for a better life. After getting fired, Tracy gets a job at a carnival helping out Henry B. Walthall, the owner of an attraction called Dante's Inferno. Basically, Walthall dresses up in a black robe and in a cheap Hell-like setting, preaches to his customers, but soon Tracy revamps the whole thing into a spectacular recreation of the various circles of Hell and it becomes a big hit. In a few years, he has married Walthall's daughter (Claire Trevor) and is raking in the bucks as the owner of an amusement company. When an inspector tells Tracy that his Inferno is unsafe and needs major repairs, Tracy bribes him to keep quiet; that night, the attraction collapses, killing some visitors and seriously injuring Walthall. At the old man's bedside, Tracy has a vision of Hell that scares him for a time, but does not lead to any substantial change in his character. Trevor lies for Tracy at a court hearing on the accident, then leaves him, taking their son (Scotty Beckett). The Titanic-like climax of the film takes place on the maiden voyage of Tracy's new offshore gambling liner; with Tracy's boy on board, the ship catches fire, causing much panic and putting Beckett in danger. Will this be Tracy's tragedy or redemption? Tracy is fine, as usual, as are Trevor and Walthall, though they aren't given much to do. The real attraction here is the "vision of Hell" sequence, filled with special effects, cool sets, and half-naked sinners writhing in agony. Most of it, or even all of it, consists of footage from an old silent movie, but it is integrated well. Also notable for a brief but impressive appearance by Rita Hayworth (when she was still billed as Rita Cansino) as a fiery dancer on the doomed liner.

SECRET SERVICE OF THE AIR (1939)

A very enjoyable second-feature action film that spawned a brief series starring Ronald Reagan as pilot Brass Bancroft. In this film, he's a commercial cargo pilot with a yen to be a government spy. He gets his chance when an agent on the track of an illegal alien smuggling ring is found dead, dumped out of a plane over a desert, along with several other men. The midair dumping scene is startlingly graphic for a 30's film, though the slow motion involved gives it an artificial feel. James Stephenson is the head of the smuggling ring; John Ridgely is the pilot who sends the men to their deaths. Reagan is recruited for spy work, framed for a crime by the Feds, and put in prison to make contact with a man assumed to be part of the ring. They break out and Reagan gets a job with Stephenson in an attempt to catch the bad guys red-handed. Eddie Foy Jr. does a surprisingly good job in a comic relief sidekick role as a co-pilot. B-movie workhorse John Litel is fine as Reagan's boss. A couple of handsome Warner Brothers B-film stock players, Anthony Averill and Larry Williams, are present; a bland blonde named Ila Rhodes is the leading lady but really only has a small part--romance is, at best, only a secondary concern for Brass Bancroft. The hour-long film plays out like a serial which has been cut down to the bare minimum with good action and fisticuff scenes, but some missing plot points. Good fun for those who don't expect too much.

HITTING A NEW HIGH (1937)

Mediocre RKO musical which established once and for all that opera singer Lily Pons would never be a movie star. Pons plays Suzette, a singer with a pop band headed by boyfriend John Howard (Kittridge in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY). Her dream is to sing opera, but Howard keeps her away from her goal. A promoter, Jack Oakie, has a scheme to help her: he takes her to Africa and passes her off as Oogahunga, a legendary bird girl to be discovered by opera lover Edward Everett Horton. Back in New York she keeps up a double life, singing with Howard and preparing to make her opera debut with Horton's backing. Eric Blore, a clarinet player, sees an opening and makes a public claim to be the bird girl's father. Subterfuge and double crosses abound. I think there was a happy ending for all concerned, but frankly I lost interest in following the convoluted plot. Pons and Oakie both lack charisma; Horton and Blore provide a couple of good moments, and Howard has some potential in the beginning as a romantic leading man, but the movie loses steam quickly. The "fake bird girl" idea isn't bad; perhaps Fred & Ginger could have pulled it off. There is one good song, "Let's Give Love Another Chance," but that's not enough for me to be able to recommend the movie. Directed by Raoul Walsh, who was better with his later tough-guy pictures (THEY DRIVE BY NIGHT, HIGH SIERRA, WHITE HEAT).

AERIAL GUNNER (1943)

A wartime B-picture with mostly squandered potential--MGM or Warners could have done more with it. Chester Morris is "Foxy" Pattis, a lowlife fellow whose former friend (Richard Arlen) has become a district attorney whom Morris holds responsible for his father's death. Arlen enlists in the Army Air Corps and Morris is drafted; naturally, they both wind up at the same flight gunnery school. Morris is in charge of training a group of men including Arlen, Jimmy Lydon as a delicate kid whose father was killed at Pearl Harbor, and Dick Purcell as a guy with a knack for mechanics. The animosity between Morris and Arlen grows, especially when they both vie for Lydon's sister, Lita Ward (not a looker even by B-movie standards). Lydon can't quite cut it in training and dies in an accident during maneuvers. Ward blames Morris and cozies up to Arlen. Finally, in the South Pacific in real combat, after an inspiring speech from the doomed Keith Richards (rather handsome and no relation to the Rolling Stone), the men are put in a situation where one chooses to sacrifice himself for the other. Arlen is awfully stiff and romantically uninspiring. Morris, heading toward middle age, looks good in an Army buzz cut and does a fine job given the limitations of the writing and production--it's too bad he didn't get more soldier roles--although I confess I kept thinking the film would be more interesting with Errol Flynn or Dennis Morgan. Robert Mitchum has a good scene early on as a rival of Morris's.

ZOO IN BUDAPEST (1933)

A whimsical romance, shot in gauzy soft-focus with some nice trimmings along the way but not much substance. Gene Raymond is a zookeeper in Budapest; he's a bit on the youthful eccentric side, always in trouble for punishing folks who don't take the animals seriously, like when he steals a fur from a visiting woman. Loretta Young is an orphan, just turned 18 and about to be forced into work; she's been planning an escape during one of the orphanage's zoo trips and finally her friends talk her into going through with it. Raymond, who has been flirting with her for some time, helps her hide after closing hours. Complicating things for the couple is a child who escapes from his nanny and gets lost in the zoo. Soon a full-scale search for all three is underway and in the last third, the movie becomes sort of an animal disaster film with maurauding tigers threatening our trio, along with a disgruntled co-worker of Raymond's (Paul Fix). Raymond looks the part, all blondness and smiles, and Young is fine, but the whimsey that should be applied with a light touch winds up feeling awfully forced. O. P. Heggie is the zoo director who has some empathy for Raymond; Margaret Hamilton has a couple of lines as the orphanage director's assistant. The cinematography is nice, giving the film a unique fairy tale atmosphere, but the whole thing is too heavy-handed to really succeed.