HEIDI (1937)
As a child, I managed to miss out on all the forms of this classic story, though I remember my dad getting agitated during the infamous NBC incident in which a TV adaptation of "Heidi" bumped the exciting ending of a football game. I'd avoided this movie mostly due to its syrupy reputation as an archetypal Shirley Temple "orphan" story, but it wasn't as sappy as I'd feared, although I can see where young children might get upset near the end. Temple is the title orphan; her snippy aunt (Mady Christians) has apparently gotten tired of taking care of her and dumps her with her grandfather (Jean Hersholt), a man known in his Swiss mountain village as cranky and reclusive. Naturally, Temple thaws Hersholt out without breaking a sweat, but just when they seem to have established themselves as a loving family unit, fully accepted by the villagers, the wicked aunt returns and takes Temple away to Frankfurt. Her scheme essentially is to sell Temple to a rich family as a companion for their crippled daughter. The girl (Marcia Mae Jones) and her father (Sidney Blackmer) are perfectly nice but Temple wants to go back to Hersholt, who has traveled to Frankfurt to find her, and the last 20 minutes or so of the movie consist of the two looking for each other on the city streets on Christmas Day. After a few tears have been jerked, there is a happy if rather abrupt ending. All the actors mentioned above are good, especially Christans, although Arthur Treacher steals all of his scenes as the city family's butler. Also notable are Helen Westley as an old blind friend of Hersholt's, Mary Nash as Jones's wicked guardian, who is trying to hold onto Temple for mercenary reasons of her own, and Thomas Beck as the village pastor. I guess because of audience expectations, a musical number with Temple is shoehorned in as a fantasy sequence, but it's the weakest part of the film. Generally, quite bearable; given its Christmassy climax (including a lovely, long tracking shot to the tune of "Silent Night"), I'm surprised this hasn't become a holiday TV tradition--or maybe it has and I haven't noticed. [FMC]
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Friday, March 03, 2006
THE HURRICANE (1937)
A grand old entertainment, combining a romance, an "exotic lifestyle" melodrama, and a disaster adventure. Set on the British-ruled South Seas island of Manikoora, the story revolves around a native couple, played by Jon Hall and Dorothy Lamour, who have just gotten married. After a rapturous wedding night, Hall has to set off to Tahiti as first mate to ship captain Jerome Cowan; once he's there, Hall gets into a fist fight with a rich white man who has him thrown into jail for 90 days. The native people, we are told, don't take well to imprisonment (something about their natural freedom, though I can't really think of *any* people who enjoy losing their freedom) and Hall tries several times to escape, leading to many extensions of his sentence until he racks up over 15 years. Islanders try to talk the governor of Manikoora (Raymond Massey) into intervening to commute Hall's sentence, but Massey, out of his respect for the law, refuses, claiming that Hall is setting himself above the law. This causes strains in the relationships between Massey and virtually everyone else on the island, including his wife, Mary Astor. Somewhere around year 8, Hall finally makes good on an escape but accidentally kills a prison guard in the process. He swims 600 miles to the island and is reunited with his wife (and daughter, whom he's never seen); Massey finds out and vows to get him, but a killer hurricane comes blowing in, destroying the island and changing the lives of all the residents.
The storm sequence, basically the last 30 minutes or so of the film, is very well done, a mix of actual full-sized effects and miniatures, and it's this aspect of the movie that gets most of the critical attention, but the acting is quite good as well. Hall, though looking fine shirtless, is a bit lightweight and Lamour doesn't have much to do, but the rest of the cast is excellent: Massey as the stiff-backed martinet, Astor as his wife, torn between loyalty to him and sympathy for the island couple, Thomas Mitchell as the wise if occasionally drunken doctor, C. Aubrey Smith as the priest (the only character to have a truly tragic end), John Carradine as a sadistic prison warden, and Cowan in the relatively small role of the captain who, like Astor, is sympathetic to Hall but not in a position to help much. During the first half of the film, there are some nice, ominous scene endings in which the actors leave but the camera remains as we see and hear the wind pick up in strength. Highly recommended; hopefully it will someday be issued on DVD with appropriate extras. [TCM]
A grand old entertainment, combining a romance, an "exotic lifestyle" melodrama, and a disaster adventure. Set on the British-ruled South Seas island of Manikoora, the story revolves around a native couple, played by Jon Hall and Dorothy Lamour, who have just gotten married. After a rapturous wedding night, Hall has to set off to Tahiti as first mate to ship captain Jerome Cowan; once he's there, Hall gets into a fist fight with a rich white man who has him thrown into jail for 90 days. The native people, we are told, don't take well to imprisonment (something about their natural freedom, though I can't really think of *any* people who enjoy losing their freedom) and Hall tries several times to escape, leading to many extensions of his sentence until he racks up over 15 years. Islanders try to talk the governor of Manikoora (Raymond Massey) into intervening to commute Hall's sentence, but Massey, out of his respect for the law, refuses, claiming that Hall is setting himself above the law. This causes strains in the relationships between Massey and virtually everyone else on the island, including his wife, Mary Astor. Somewhere around year 8, Hall finally makes good on an escape but accidentally kills a prison guard in the process. He swims 600 miles to the island and is reunited with his wife (and daughter, whom he's never seen); Massey finds out and vows to get him, but a killer hurricane comes blowing in, destroying the island and changing the lives of all the residents.
The storm sequence, basically the last 30 minutes or so of the film, is very well done, a mix of actual full-sized effects and miniatures, and it's this aspect of the movie that gets most of the critical attention, but the acting is quite good as well. Hall, though looking fine shirtless, is a bit lightweight and Lamour doesn't have much to do, but the rest of the cast is excellent: Massey as the stiff-backed martinet, Astor as his wife, torn between loyalty to him and sympathy for the island couple, Thomas Mitchell as the wise if occasionally drunken doctor, C. Aubrey Smith as the priest (the only character to have a truly tragic end), John Carradine as a sadistic prison warden, and Cowan in the relatively small role of the captain who, like Astor, is sympathetic to Hall but not in a position to help much. During the first half of the film, there are some nice, ominous scene endings in which the actors leave but the camera remains as we see and hear the wind pick up in strength. Highly recommended; hopefully it will someday be issued on DVD with appropriate extras. [TCM]
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
BIG BUSINESS GIRL (1931)
An OK pre-Code romantic comedy which ends too traditionally, with the independent woman giving things up for the insecure, passive male. We first meet Frank Albertson and Loretta Young as they graduate from college. Albertson is a bandleader who has a chance to take his band to Paris, but Young is determined to forge her own career so she stays behind and looks for a job in New York City. Eventually, she finds herself in the right place at the right time and becomes secretary to advertising executive Ricardo Cortez. Showing initiative, she starts writing copy on her own. Cortez gives her a job as an ad writer (admitting she's good but also noting to a fellow exec that she'd be worth the money just to have as an attractive office ornament) and also starts trying to woo her. Albertson, hearing of her success, comes back to New York and in a comedy of errors scene, we (and Cortez) find out that Albertson and Young have actually been married all along. Albertson wants Young to leave her position but she doesn't want to, so they split up. There is some more see-sawing between the two as he becomes successful in New York (thanks partly to Young, who had recommended his band to a radio sponsor) and Cortez continues to pursue Young. Finally, Cortez tries to engineer divorce proceedings by talking the couple into hiring a professional co-respondent (Joan Blondell) to be caught with Albertson, but at the last minute, the couple straighten everything out, with the implication that she will leave her job and live in wedded bliss with her passive, insecure man.
The short movie is mostly enjoyable (if you can overlook the muddled sexual politics), and all the actors are fine. Albertson is good in a rare leading role; he played best-friend juvenile parts for many years into his adulthood, and is probably best known as Sam Wainwright, George Bailey's romantic rival in IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE. Cortez is as slimy as he should be, but we can also see his charm, and Young is spunky and gay (in the old-fashioned sense of the word). Blondell injects a nice blast of comic energy in her short scene near the end. A couple of good lines: Cortez to Young (whose character's name is Claire): "I was married once to a girl named Claire--that was one of my Follies of 1920." A frustrated Young to Albertson: "You're only good for two things: making music and making love." Cute, but no lost gem. [TCM]
An OK pre-Code romantic comedy which ends too traditionally, with the independent woman giving things up for the insecure, passive male. We first meet Frank Albertson and Loretta Young as they graduate from college. Albertson is a bandleader who has a chance to take his band to Paris, but Young is determined to forge her own career so she stays behind and looks for a job in New York City. Eventually, she finds herself in the right place at the right time and becomes secretary to advertising executive Ricardo Cortez. Showing initiative, she starts writing copy on her own. Cortez gives her a job as an ad writer (admitting she's good but also noting to a fellow exec that she'd be worth the money just to have as an attractive office ornament) and also starts trying to woo her. Albertson, hearing of her success, comes back to New York and in a comedy of errors scene, we (and Cortez) find out that Albertson and Young have actually been married all along. Albertson wants Young to leave her position but she doesn't want to, so they split up. There is some more see-sawing between the two as he becomes successful in New York (thanks partly to Young, who had recommended his band to a radio sponsor) and Cortez continues to pursue Young. Finally, Cortez tries to engineer divorce proceedings by talking the couple into hiring a professional co-respondent (Joan Blondell) to be caught with Albertson, but at the last minute, the couple straighten everything out, with the implication that she will leave her job and live in wedded bliss with her passive, insecure man.
The short movie is mostly enjoyable (if you can overlook the muddled sexual politics), and all the actors are fine. Albertson is good in a rare leading role; he played best-friend juvenile parts for many years into his adulthood, and is probably best known as Sam Wainwright, George Bailey's romantic rival in IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE. Cortez is as slimy as he should be, but we can also see his charm, and Young is spunky and gay (in the old-fashioned sense of the word). Blondell injects a nice blast of comic energy in her short scene near the end. A couple of good lines: Cortez to Young (whose character's name is Claire): "I was married once to a girl named Claire--that was one of my Follies of 1920." A frustrated Young to Albertson: "You're only good for two things: making music and making love." Cute, but no lost gem. [TCM]
Sunday, February 26, 2006
DAISY KENYON (1947)
Enjoyable romantic soap opera with tons of noir atmosphere and Joan Crawford at nearly the peak of her high melodrama period. She plays the title character, a successful commercial illustrator who lives in Greenwich Village (she's not rich, but like TV's "Friends," she certainly lives comfortably) and is the mistress of married lawyer Dana Andrews. He's happy with the situation, but she's feeling ignored due to a string of broken dates. She begins a casual relationship with Henry Fonda, a slightly naive soldier and widower just home from the war; at the end of their first date, he tells her he loves her which freaks her out a little, but with Andrews' non-commital state bothering her more and more, they fall into a more serious relationship. They are aware that they are using each other to escape their respective romantic woes, but they get married anyway and move to a cottage on Cape Cod where Fonda works as a ship builder. Andrews goes out to do a case on the West Coast and when he loses, he returns and tries to start things up with Crawford, but she rejects him. Andrews' wife (Ruth Warrick) finds out about the affair and a nasty, very public divorce ensues. The wrap-up of the triangle plays out a bit like a 30's screwball comedy, except it's not comic. Aside from an overly pat ending, this is interesting viewing.
Crawford is very good, mostly underplaying a role that could have led to real scenery chewing. Andrews is her match as a basically nice guy who seems not to want to hurt anyone, but who hurts everyone, including himself. Fonda was an interesting choice--he's not sexy at all and he's a little too passive, which makes it unlikely that Crawford would settle for him (and it's clear that whatever choice she makes, she would indeed be simply settling), but I got used to him eventually, though he remains too lightweight to play a character with several personal demons--symbolized by crazy cacophonous music played on the soundtrack while he thrashes about in his bed. There's an odd little subplot which implies that Warrick physically abuses her younger daughter (Connie Marshall); though Andrews knows about this, he feels OK about agreeing to give Warrick full custody of her in order to get Crawford off the public hook during the trial, and that just seems wrong, even allowing for the era. There isn't much of a supporting cast; a starlet named Martha Stewart plays Crawford's roommate, Peggy Ann Garner is Andrews' other daughter, and Walter Winchell has a one-line cameo in a scene set at the Stork Club. Although the movie is not film noir, it has a very shadowy, noirish look--I kept wondering if Crawford just couldn't afford to turn on a few lights now and then--which is effective. I like that Andrews calls almost everyone he talks to, including Fonda, "Honeybunch," and I like that Fonda does it right back at him in a later scene. Good melodramatic fun. [FMC]
Enjoyable romantic soap opera with tons of noir atmosphere and Joan Crawford at nearly the peak of her high melodrama period. She plays the title character, a successful commercial illustrator who lives in Greenwich Village (she's not rich, but like TV's "Friends," she certainly lives comfortably) and is the mistress of married lawyer Dana Andrews. He's happy with the situation, but she's feeling ignored due to a string of broken dates. She begins a casual relationship with Henry Fonda, a slightly naive soldier and widower just home from the war; at the end of their first date, he tells her he loves her which freaks her out a little, but with Andrews' non-commital state bothering her more and more, they fall into a more serious relationship. They are aware that they are using each other to escape their respective romantic woes, but they get married anyway and move to a cottage on Cape Cod where Fonda works as a ship builder. Andrews goes out to do a case on the West Coast and when he loses, he returns and tries to start things up with Crawford, but she rejects him. Andrews' wife (Ruth Warrick) finds out about the affair and a nasty, very public divorce ensues. The wrap-up of the triangle plays out a bit like a 30's screwball comedy, except it's not comic. Aside from an overly pat ending, this is interesting viewing.
Crawford is very good, mostly underplaying a role that could have led to real scenery chewing. Andrews is her match as a basically nice guy who seems not to want to hurt anyone, but who hurts everyone, including himself. Fonda was an interesting choice--he's not sexy at all and he's a little too passive, which makes it unlikely that Crawford would settle for him (and it's clear that whatever choice she makes, she would indeed be simply settling), but I got used to him eventually, though he remains too lightweight to play a character with several personal demons--symbolized by crazy cacophonous music played on the soundtrack while he thrashes about in his bed. There's an odd little subplot which implies that Warrick physically abuses her younger daughter (Connie Marshall); though Andrews knows about this, he feels OK about agreeing to give Warrick full custody of her in order to get Crawford off the public hook during the trial, and that just seems wrong, even allowing for the era. There isn't much of a supporting cast; a starlet named Martha Stewart plays Crawford's roommate, Peggy Ann Garner is Andrews' other daughter, and Walter Winchell has a one-line cameo in a scene set at the Stork Club. Although the movie is not film noir, it has a very shadowy, noirish look--I kept wondering if Crawford just couldn't afford to turn on a few lights now and then--which is effective. I like that Andrews calls almost everyone he talks to, including Fonda, "Honeybunch," and I like that Fonda does it right back at him in a later scene. Good melodramatic fun. [FMC]
Thursday, February 23, 2006
IVANHOE (1952)
I have an admitted prejudice against 50's movies in general, and 50's costume epics in particular, but I've been trying to expand my horizons lately, so I made a point of watching this, which crops up frequently on Turner Classic Movies. On the plus side, I was pleased and surprised, knowing almost nothing in advance about the original book, that this is a story which is contemporaneous with the events of the Robin Hood legend, and specifically with the wonderful Errol Flynn ROBIN HOOD film from 1938. Robin himself is a (very minor) character here, known as Robin of Locksley, and Sebastian Cabot has a small but noticeable role as one of Robin's men. That's about it for the plus side. Not that the movie is a total disaster, but because it's difficult not to compare it to the earlier Errol Flynn film, it winds up losing on every count. As in ROBIN HOOD, the action is set during the period of the Crusades when King Richard the Lionhearted is being held hostage in Austria and his villainous brother John (Guy Rolfe) has taken the throne. Chivalrous Saxon knight Wilfrid of Ivanhoe (Robert Taylor) vows to raise the money to free Richard and to fight John and his obnoxious Norman cohorts (led by George Sanders). After failing to reconcile with his estranged father (Finlay Currie), Ivanhoe finds help from Jewish community leader Isaac of York (Felix Aylmer), who raises funds for the ransom in exchange for promises of official tolerance. Robin and his men contribute some of the booty they steal from the rich to the ransom as well. Along the way, Ivanhoe fights and jousts and falls in love with two women: childhood friend Rowena (Joan Fontaine) and Isaac's daughter (Elizabeth Taylor, quite lovely at age 20). There is a castle siege sequence which was likely quite rousing in 1952, but which is difficult to take seriously now as it plays out too much like the parody siege in MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL. Robert Taylor is attractive but wooden, as usual. Fontaine is OK, but she loses out to her sister, Olivia de Havilland, who played a very similar role in the '38 ROBIN HOOD. Sanders does a nice job with his usual mustache-twirling villain part, and aside from Aylmer, the only other actor to make much of an impression is Emyln Williams as Ivanhoe's buffoonish squire. The sets and costumes are fine, but this would look more impressive if it had been shot in widescreen. [TCM]
I have an admitted prejudice against 50's movies in general, and 50's costume epics in particular, but I've been trying to expand my horizons lately, so I made a point of watching this, which crops up frequently on Turner Classic Movies. On the plus side, I was pleased and surprised, knowing almost nothing in advance about the original book, that this is a story which is contemporaneous with the events of the Robin Hood legend, and specifically with the wonderful Errol Flynn ROBIN HOOD film from 1938. Robin himself is a (very minor) character here, known as Robin of Locksley, and Sebastian Cabot has a small but noticeable role as one of Robin's men. That's about it for the plus side. Not that the movie is a total disaster, but because it's difficult not to compare it to the earlier Errol Flynn film, it winds up losing on every count. As in ROBIN HOOD, the action is set during the period of the Crusades when King Richard the Lionhearted is being held hostage in Austria and his villainous brother John (Guy Rolfe) has taken the throne. Chivalrous Saxon knight Wilfrid of Ivanhoe (Robert Taylor) vows to raise the money to free Richard and to fight John and his obnoxious Norman cohorts (led by George Sanders). After failing to reconcile with his estranged father (Finlay Currie), Ivanhoe finds help from Jewish community leader Isaac of York (Felix Aylmer), who raises funds for the ransom in exchange for promises of official tolerance. Robin and his men contribute some of the booty they steal from the rich to the ransom as well. Along the way, Ivanhoe fights and jousts and falls in love with two women: childhood friend Rowena (Joan Fontaine) and Isaac's daughter (Elizabeth Taylor, quite lovely at age 20). There is a castle siege sequence which was likely quite rousing in 1952, but which is difficult to take seriously now as it plays out too much like the parody siege in MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL. Robert Taylor is attractive but wooden, as usual. Fontaine is OK, but she loses out to her sister, Olivia de Havilland, who played a very similar role in the '38 ROBIN HOOD. Sanders does a nice job with his usual mustache-twirling villain part, and aside from Aylmer, the only other actor to make much of an impression is Emyln Williams as Ivanhoe's buffoonish squire. The sets and costumes are fine, but this would look more impressive if it had been shot in widescreen. [TCM]
Sunday, February 19, 2006
THE OUTLAW (1943)
Or, Four Ways of Looking at The Outlaw.
1) Just the Facts, Ma'am: This film puts three historical figures from the Old West together in a western romance melodrama. Pat Garrett (Thomas Mitchell), sheriff of Lincoln, New Mexico, is happy to see his rowdy old buddy Doc Holliday (Walter Huston) who has come to town looking for the varmint who stole his strawberry roan horse. That person is young Billy the Kid (Jack Buetel), and Doc and Billy enter into a strange friendship, which Doc resents, centered on stealing the horse back from each other. Billy also meets Rio (Jane Russell), Doc's hot-blooded girlfriend, and after an initial (and quite literal) roll in the hay that plays out like a rape, the two take up together, and even get married in secret (surely a ploy to get around the censors of the era). After some spirited chases involving lawmen and Indians, the relationships between the four are sorted out via some gun play and a clever trick that contradicts the historical record (as though historical accuracy was on anyone's mind) but leaves Billy alive to ride off with Rio in the end.
2) All the Fuss: Supposedly Howard Hughes made this movie primarily to show off his discovery Jane Russell, and much has been made of the way her breasts are highlighted here. I must say that at least one shot of Russell walking across the screen startled me right off the couch, but for the most part, she comes off as almost demure compared to the way many a starlet is exposed these days--she's got nothin' on Lil' Kim, for example.
3) A Gay Man Watching The Outlaw; or "Brokeback Outlaw": [Spoilers follow!] Though there's no doubt that both Doc and Billy are full of lust for Rio, and that Billy and Rio do some intense grappling, I found the most compelling love relationship to be the triangle of Doc, Billy, and Sheriff Pat (well, there's also Doc's horse, which Doc seems to like better than Rio but not as good as Billy, but who want to go there?). Pat and Doc have been friends for years, but Billy replaces Pat in Doc's affections (and "affections" is definitely the right word, as Hughes wasn't afraid to have the characters express real affection for each other). When Pat realizes what's happened, he reacts like a scorned lover, breaking things off with Doc "for good and all." In the end, with passions high all around, Doc threatens to kill Billy but instead shoots his ears, then hugs him. Pat kills Doc, but Billy ties Pat up and buries Doc as himself, so he can leave with Rio and let folks think that Pat killed him. Another gayish point: the relationship between Rio and Doc's maid (Mimi Aguglia) is a lot like that of Karen and Rosario on "Will & Grace."
4) The Good, the Bad, and the Gorgeous: I'm willing to concede the title of worst movie ever to either Plan 9 from Outer Space or Manos: The Hands of Fate, but this one is certainly in the running for Worst Movie Ever Made by Mainstream Filmmakers and Actors Who Should Have Known Better--though approached on a camp level, there are some perverse pleasures to be had. Hughes' direction is almost amateurish, the music (which loudly underlines every moment of excitement or humor) even worse. Even Mitchell and Huston, normally excellent actors, are at sea here. Buetel is, at times, absolutely beautiful, but as an actor, he's a glassy-eyed stick puppet. Published accounts have suggested that Hughes forced Buetel into a sexual relationship in exchange for a long-term contract, and for whatever reason, Hughes didn't let Buetel work for the next eight years. At any rate, his career never recovered from his association with Hughes. As far as the good, surprisingly enough, it's Jane Russell. She's sexy and is fine in her limited role; though she's theoretically the catalyst for most of the action, she has little to do in the last third of the film. I did have some fun watching this, but it really is a bad movie, and I'm astonished that some critics (including Maltin and Halliwell) cut it so much slack. Yes, it has its moments of campy fun, and the portrayal of the psychological aspects of the characters' relationships held some potential, but geez, is this ever a bad, bad movie. [TCM]
Or, Four Ways of Looking at The Outlaw.
1) Just the Facts, Ma'am: This film puts three historical figures from the Old West together in a western romance melodrama. Pat Garrett (Thomas Mitchell), sheriff of Lincoln, New Mexico, is happy to see his rowdy old buddy Doc Holliday (Walter Huston) who has come to town looking for the varmint who stole his strawberry roan horse. That person is young Billy the Kid (Jack Buetel), and Doc and Billy enter into a strange friendship, which Doc resents, centered on stealing the horse back from each other. Billy also meets Rio (Jane Russell), Doc's hot-blooded girlfriend, and after an initial (and quite literal) roll in the hay that plays out like a rape, the two take up together, and even get married in secret (surely a ploy to get around the censors of the era). After some spirited chases involving lawmen and Indians, the relationships between the four are sorted out via some gun play and a clever trick that contradicts the historical record (as though historical accuracy was on anyone's mind) but leaves Billy alive to ride off with Rio in the end.
2) All the Fuss: Supposedly Howard Hughes made this movie primarily to show off his discovery Jane Russell, and much has been made of the way her breasts are highlighted here. I must say that at least one shot of Russell walking across the screen startled me right off the couch, but for the most part, she comes off as almost demure compared to the way many a starlet is exposed these days--she's got nothin' on Lil' Kim, for example.
3) A Gay Man Watching The Outlaw; or "Brokeback Outlaw": [Spoilers follow!] Though there's no doubt that both Doc and Billy are full of lust for Rio, and that Billy and Rio do some intense grappling, I found the most compelling love relationship to be the triangle of Doc, Billy, and Sheriff Pat (well, there's also Doc's horse, which Doc seems to like better than Rio but not as good as Billy, but who want to go there?). Pat and Doc have been friends for years, but Billy replaces Pat in Doc's affections (and "affections" is definitely the right word, as Hughes wasn't afraid to have the characters express real affection for each other). When Pat realizes what's happened, he reacts like a scorned lover, breaking things off with Doc "for good and all." In the end, with passions high all around, Doc threatens to kill Billy but instead shoots his ears, then hugs him. Pat kills Doc, but Billy ties Pat up and buries Doc as himself, so he can leave with Rio and let folks think that Pat killed him. Another gayish point: the relationship between Rio and Doc's maid (Mimi Aguglia) is a lot like that of Karen and Rosario on "Will & Grace."
4) The Good, the Bad, and the Gorgeous: I'm willing to concede the title of worst movie ever to either Plan 9 from Outer Space or Manos: The Hands of Fate, but this one is certainly in the running for Worst Movie Ever Made by Mainstream Filmmakers and Actors Who Should Have Known Better--though approached on a camp level, there are some perverse pleasures to be had. Hughes' direction is almost amateurish, the music (which loudly underlines every moment of excitement or humor) even worse. Even Mitchell and Huston, normally excellent actors, are at sea here. Buetel is, at times, absolutely beautiful, but as an actor, he's a glassy-eyed stick puppet. Published accounts have suggested that Hughes forced Buetel into a sexual relationship in exchange for a long-term contract, and for whatever reason, Hughes didn't let Buetel work for the next eight years. At any rate, his career never recovered from his association with Hughes. As far as the good, surprisingly enough, it's Jane Russell. She's sexy and is fine in her limited role; though she's theoretically the catalyst for most of the action, she has little to do in the last third of the film. I did have some fun watching this, but it really is a bad movie, and I'm astonished that some critics (including Maltin and Halliwell) cut it so much slack. Yes, it has its moments of campy fun, and the portrayal of the psychological aspects of the characters' relationships held some potential, but geez, is this ever a bad, bad movie. [TCM]
Friday, February 17, 2006
BOY MEETS GIRL (1938)
Basically, a screwball comedy without the central romantic element that's usually present. Your enjoyment of this will depend on your tolerance for the buddy comedy of James Cagney and Pat O'Brien, kicked here into ultra-high gear. The two play a screenwriting team who are getting tired of churning out formula pix ("boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl") for their studio boss (Ralph Bellamy). Nevertheless, they get assigned to a western which is supposed to save the fading reputation of cowboy star Dick Foran. Pregnant studio waitress Marie Wilson faints in Bellamy's office and the boys get the idea to write their movie around the newborn baby, named Happy. Happy's a hit but no one's happy, and the complications (including a case of measles that sidelines both the baby and the cowboy) pile on rather chaotically to the predictable "happy" ending. The whole thing has the rather forced frantic feel of Cagney's much later comedy, ONE TWO THREE, and I was exhausted by the end of the first hour of this 90 minute movie. There are several small joys to be had, including some jibes at studio thinking: for example, the studio seems proud of the fact that there are no English actors employed in the filming of "Young England"; the baby/cowboy movie is billed as being based on Shakespeare; the baby is billed as "the Crown Prince of Comedy, the King of Tragedy, and the Emperor of Emotion." The trumpeters that barge in at the end of each "act" (the movie is based on a play and it shows) are a hoot. Cagney and O'Brien do have comic chemistry with each other, even if Cagney is constantly in danger of going so far over the top that he'll exit the movie. The fine supporting cast includes Frank McHugh as Foran's agent and Bruce Lester as a British extra who falls for Wilson. Ronald Reagan has a small role as an MC at the premiere of the cowboy movie, and film buffs will recognize James Stephenson and Dennie Moore in bit roles. [TCM]
Basically, a screwball comedy without the central romantic element that's usually present. Your enjoyment of this will depend on your tolerance for the buddy comedy of James Cagney and Pat O'Brien, kicked here into ultra-high gear. The two play a screenwriting team who are getting tired of churning out formula pix ("boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl") for their studio boss (Ralph Bellamy). Nevertheless, they get assigned to a western which is supposed to save the fading reputation of cowboy star Dick Foran. Pregnant studio waitress Marie Wilson faints in Bellamy's office and the boys get the idea to write their movie around the newborn baby, named Happy. Happy's a hit but no one's happy, and the complications (including a case of measles that sidelines both the baby and the cowboy) pile on rather chaotically to the predictable "happy" ending. The whole thing has the rather forced frantic feel of Cagney's much later comedy, ONE TWO THREE, and I was exhausted by the end of the first hour of this 90 minute movie. There are several small joys to be had, including some jibes at studio thinking: for example, the studio seems proud of the fact that there are no English actors employed in the filming of "Young England"; the baby/cowboy movie is billed as being based on Shakespeare; the baby is billed as "the Crown Prince of Comedy, the King of Tragedy, and the Emperor of Emotion." The trumpeters that barge in at the end of each "act" (the movie is based on a play and it shows) are a hoot. Cagney and O'Brien do have comic chemistry with each other, even if Cagney is constantly in danger of going so far over the top that he'll exit the movie. The fine supporting cast includes Frank McHugh as Foran's agent and Bruce Lester as a British extra who falls for Wilson. Ronald Reagan has a small role as an MC at the premiere of the cowboy movie, and film buffs will recognize James Stephenson and Dennie Moore in bit roles. [TCM]
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
THE PRISONER OF SHARK ISLAND (1936)
This is the Hollywood version of the ordeal of Samuel Mudd, the doctor who unwittingly set the leg of the injured John Wilkes Booth and was found guilty of conspiracy in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. As in all historical films, the facts are played around with considerably in the service of entertainment, but this is a well-told tale. Warner Baxter is Mudd, presented here as a simple country doctor and slaveowner whose sympathies were with the Confederacy. The movie begins with an understated reenactment of Lincoln's murder followed by Booth's journey through pouring rain to Mudd's home where he asks for medical attention. After he peels off his boots, he tries to scratch his engraved name from the inside, but only partially succeeds. The next day, military police follow Booth's trail, find the boots, and arrest the doctor. A military court, the members of which have been instructed to ignore the legal principle of "reasonable doubt" in order to get guilty verdicts to avoid "the collapse of the Union," finds Mudd (and several others) guilty of conspiracy; most of the prisoners are executed by hanging, but Mudd is sentenced to a life of hard labor on a prison island in the Florida Keys. A sergeant on the island (John Carradine) takes particular delight in torturing this man he assumes had a direct hand in killing the president; back home, Mudd's wife (Gloria Stuart) tries every legal channel in attempts to free her husband. A daring escape attempt, in which Mudd is aided by a former slave of his (Ernest Whitman), is foiled and Mudd and Whitman are thrown into a deadly solitary cell, but when a yellow fever epidemic swamps the island and lays low prisoners and guards alike, Mudd is freed to help fight the disease. This eventually earns him the respect of all, even Carradine, and he is given a pardon and returns home to his loving wife.
In real life, Mudd spent four years on the island and was released after helping fight yellow fever, but he never regained his health or his livelihood. In the film, Mudd's innocence is never in doubt, but actually the case against him did have some merit, as he apparently lied to authorities about not knowing Booth--the two had met at least twice before the assassination, though Mudd insisted that he did not recognize Booth when he set his leg. Baxter is excellent, playing his part without the histrionics that must have been tempting. Standouts in the supporting cast include Harry Carey as the commandant of the island, Maurice Murphy as an orderly who helps Mudd during the epidemic, and Claude Gillingwater as Mudd's father-in-law, an inveterate Confederate (no poem intended). The prison island is referred to in the opening as an American Devil's Island, and indeed the 1939 B-movie DEVIL'S ISLAND stole its basic plot situation wholesale from this film, even though it is set in France and has nothing to do with the Civil War. Not reliable as a history lesson, perhaps, but a compelling movie. [FMC]
This is the Hollywood version of the ordeal of Samuel Mudd, the doctor who unwittingly set the leg of the injured John Wilkes Booth and was found guilty of conspiracy in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. As in all historical films, the facts are played around with considerably in the service of entertainment, but this is a well-told tale. Warner Baxter is Mudd, presented here as a simple country doctor and slaveowner whose sympathies were with the Confederacy. The movie begins with an understated reenactment of Lincoln's murder followed by Booth's journey through pouring rain to Mudd's home where he asks for medical attention. After he peels off his boots, he tries to scratch his engraved name from the inside, but only partially succeeds. The next day, military police follow Booth's trail, find the boots, and arrest the doctor. A military court, the members of which have been instructed to ignore the legal principle of "reasonable doubt" in order to get guilty verdicts to avoid "the collapse of the Union," finds Mudd (and several others) guilty of conspiracy; most of the prisoners are executed by hanging, but Mudd is sentenced to a life of hard labor on a prison island in the Florida Keys. A sergeant on the island (John Carradine) takes particular delight in torturing this man he assumes had a direct hand in killing the president; back home, Mudd's wife (Gloria Stuart) tries every legal channel in attempts to free her husband. A daring escape attempt, in which Mudd is aided by a former slave of his (Ernest Whitman), is foiled and Mudd and Whitman are thrown into a deadly solitary cell, but when a yellow fever epidemic swamps the island and lays low prisoners and guards alike, Mudd is freed to help fight the disease. This eventually earns him the respect of all, even Carradine, and he is given a pardon and returns home to his loving wife.
In real life, Mudd spent four years on the island and was released after helping fight yellow fever, but he never regained his health or his livelihood. In the film, Mudd's innocence is never in doubt, but actually the case against him did have some merit, as he apparently lied to authorities about not knowing Booth--the two had met at least twice before the assassination, though Mudd insisted that he did not recognize Booth when he set his leg. Baxter is excellent, playing his part without the histrionics that must have been tempting. Standouts in the supporting cast include Harry Carey as the commandant of the island, Maurice Murphy as an orderly who helps Mudd during the epidemic, and Claude Gillingwater as Mudd's father-in-law, an inveterate Confederate (no poem intended). The prison island is referred to in the opening as an American Devil's Island, and indeed the 1939 B-movie DEVIL'S ISLAND stole its basic plot situation wholesale from this film, even though it is set in France and has nothing to do with the Civil War. Not reliable as a history lesson, perhaps, but a compelling movie. [FMC]
Thursday, February 09, 2006
EXPERIMENT PERILOUS (1944)
[Spoilers included] A period melodrama which shows some potential in the beginning, but eventually bogs down with two colorless leads taking attention away from two more interesting characters. Doctor George Brent meets a quirky old woman (Olive Blakeney) on a train. She is heading home for a family reunion after several years in a sanitarium (due to a heart condition) and he hears just enough about her family to pique his interest. When she winds up dead a few days later, he gets involved with her brother (Paul Lukas) and his lovely wife (Hedy Lamarr). Lamarr is a docile and distracted person who, among other things, seems to be in the habit of sending herself bouquets of daisies and claiming that she didn't. Lukas fears that she may be mentally ill, so Brent agrees to help. However, when Brent realizes he has accidentally wound up with one of Blakeney's bags from the train, he finds out more information about her family's strange background and quickly realizes that Lukas is the one with the mental problem; he's deliberately trying to drive Lamarr insane, and is completely messing up their young son in the process. It's easy to see that this is a warmed-over take on GASLIGHT, even to being set in the past, with Lukas in the Boyer role, Lamarr as Bergman, and Brent as Joseph Cotten. As such, it mostly comes off as a second-rate gothic thriller, missing most of the thrills and atmosphere that helped make GASLIGHT fairly enjoyable. Lamarr is OK and Brent is his usual wooden self; someone younger and more energetic would have added some needed spark--because I just watched MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET again, I'm imagining someone like John Payne in the role, or even Robert Taylor. I wish more time had been given to the old woman--she's an interesting character, played well, and I wanted to know more about her. Likewise, Lukas's role could have used some enlarging; it never feels like all of his secrets have been revealed. Albert Dekker as a friend of Brent's who, by accident, spills too much info to Lukas and brings about the "perilous" climax, is OK. Jacques Tourneur directed and there are some nice stylistic touches here and there--good period sets, some nice photography--but unfortunately it will always wind up being compared to GASLIGHT, which, while not one of my very favorite movies, is still a better movie on all counts. [TCM]
[Spoilers included] A period melodrama which shows some potential in the beginning, but eventually bogs down with two colorless leads taking attention away from two more interesting characters. Doctor George Brent meets a quirky old woman (Olive Blakeney) on a train. She is heading home for a family reunion after several years in a sanitarium (due to a heart condition) and he hears just enough about her family to pique his interest. When she winds up dead a few days later, he gets involved with her brother (Paul Lukas) and his lovely wife (Hedy Lamarr). Lamarr is a docile and distracted person who, among other things, seems to be in the habit of sending herself bouquets of daisies and claiming that she didn't. Lukas fears that she may be mentally ill, so Brent agrees to help. However, when Brent realizes he has accidentally wound up with one of Blakeney's bags from the train, he finds out more information about her family's strange background and quickly realizes that Lukas is the one with the mental problem; he's deliberately trying to drive Lamarr insane, and is completely messing up their young son in the process. It's easy to see that this is a warmed-over take on GASLIGHT, even to being set in the past, with Lukas in the Boyer role, Lamarr as Bergman, and Brent as Joseph Cotten. As such, it mostly comes off as a second-rate gothic thriller, missing most of the thrills and atmosphere that helped make GASLIGHT fairly enjoyable. Lamarr is OK and Brent is his usual wooden self; someone younger and more energetic would have added some needed spark--because I just watched MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET again, I'm imagining someone like John Payne in the role, or even Robert Taylor. I wish more time had been given to the old woman--she's an interesting character, played well, and I wanted to know more about her. Likewise, Lukas's role could have used some enlarging; it never feels like all of his secrets have been revealed. Albert Dekker as a friend of Brent's who, by accident, spills too much info to Lukas and brings about the "perilous" climax, is OK. Jacques Tourneur directed and there are some nice stylistic touches here and there--good period sets, some nice photography--but unfortunately it will always wind up being compared to GASLIGHT, which, while not one of my very favorite movies, is still a better movie on all counts. [TCM]
Monday, February 06, 2006
BLOOD ON THE SUN (1945)
This is one of the first movies that James Cagney and his brother produced as independent filmmakers, trying to break away from the strictures of the studio system. It looks like it was made on the cheap, but after a while, it exerts a certain pull and the last 15 minutes or so are quite exciting. The plot, based very loosely on historical fact, is about an American journalist (Cagney) serving as editor of an English-language newspaper in Tokyo in the late 20's who breaks a story about a secret Japanese plan for world domination initiated by Premier Tanaka (John Emery). A fellow reporter (Wallace Ford) who comes into possession of a copy of the document winds up dead, but not until he has left the papers with Cagney. Sylvia Sidney, a Chinese temptress in league with Tanaka's men, is introduced to Cagney in order to seduce him so she can get hold of the plan, and she does, but after some manhandling by her colleagues, she goes over to Cagney's side and manages to smuggle the plans out of the country while Cagney faces off with a gang of violent goons, using judo to get the upper hand (although his formidable judo skills are of no help when the goons pull out guns in the last few minutes of the movie). As the fisticuffs fly, the plot loopholes grow--when the bad guys realize that Sidney is in league with Cagney, she is essentially put under house arrest in a hotel but we never see how she manages to escape, let alone get out with the plan intact. Frank Lloyd, the director, displays little in the way of interesting visual style, though there is an interestingly shot scene showing one of Sidney's Japanese handlers committing harakiri after he realizes she has escaped. In the Hollywood tradition of the era, most of the major Japanese characters are played by Caucasian actors (including Robert Montgomery and John Halloran) but it's pulled off well and it's not distracting. Rosemary DeCamp, who played Cagney's mother in YANKEE DOODLE DANDY, is Ford's wife, who also meets a bad end, and Porter Hall is Cagney's nervous publisher. The slam-bang ending makes the movie worth watching. [TCM]
This is one of the first movies that James Cagney and his brother produced as independent filmmakers, trying to break away from the strictures of the studio system. It looks like it was made on the cheap, but after a while, it exerts a certain pull and the last 15 minutes or so are quite exciting. The plot, based very loosely on historical fact, is about an American journalist (Cagney) serving as editor of an English-language newspaper in Tokyo in the late 20's who breaks a story about a secret Japanese plan for world domination initiated by Premier Tanaka (John Emery). A fellow reporter (Wallace Ford) who comes into possession of a copy of the document winds up dead, but not until he has left the papers with Cagney. Sylvia Sidney, a Chinese temptress in league with Tanaka's men, is introduced to Cagney in order to seduce him so she can get hold of the plan, and she does, but after some manhandling by her colleagues, she goes over to Cagney's side and manages to smuggle the plans out of the country while Cagney faces off with a gang of violent goons, using judo to get the upper hand (although his formidable judo skills are of no help when the goons pull out guns in the last few minutes of the movie). As the fisticuffs fly, the plot loopholes grow--when the bad guys realize that Sidney is in league with Cagney, she is essentially put under house arrest in a hotel but we never see how she manages to escape, let alone get out with the plan intact. Frank Lloyd, the director, displays little in the way of interesting visual style, though there is an interestingly shot scene showing one of Sidney's Japanese handlers committing harakiri after he realizes she has escaped. In the Hollywood tradition of the era, most of the major Japanese characters are played by Caucasian actors (including Robert Montgomery and John Halloran) but it's pulled off well and it's not distracting. Rosemary DeCamp, who played Cagney's mother in YANKEE DOODLE DANDY, is Ford's wife, who also meets a bad end, and Porter Hall is Cagney's nervous publisher. The slam-bang ending makes the movie worth watching. [TCM]
Thursday, February 02, 2006
BRITISH AGENT (1934)
[Spoilers follow!!!] For its time, this must have been an interesting attempt to combine recent history with romance, but it doesn't really hold up now. I suppose one reason that I found it lacking was that it kept reminding me two much better films, DOCTOR ZHIVAGO and REDS. Leslie Howard is a British diplomat who is on his way to Moscow in 1917 during the tumultuous days of the Russian Revolution. The main concern of the British is that the revolutionaries will pull the Russian troops out of the war against Germany. On a stopover in St. Petersburg, Howard attends a party at the British Embassy which is marred (in a scene echoed in ZHIVAGO) when troops and marching masses collide in the streets. Howard comes to the aid of Kay Francis, who is being hunted for shooting a soldier, and the two hit it off. Later, when Lenin is swept into power, the British close the embassy, leaving only Howard and a few diplomat buddies to sit around drinking and playing poker. Francis, now an important person with the Bolsheviks, returns and flirts with Howard, but when she overhears Howard decode a message that asks him to take on an unofficial "Mission: Impossible" task to influence the current government to stay in the war, she betrays him by telling her bosses. After Lenin is shot and falls into a coma and the government does indeed pull the troops, Howard goes underground to help rebuild the White Army. Francis finds out and is torn in her loyalties. Eventually, she rats on Howard, but when she learns his that the garret where he's hiding is marked for destruction, she goes to him to await certain death. At the last minute, they are saved when Lenin comes out of his coma and pardons all political enemies. The actors are fine; I think they are let down by the script which tries to cover too much in too short a time. The idea of mixing the tumult of the Revolution with personal romance worked better many years later in REDS. I especially liked William Gargan, Philip Reed, and Cesar Romero as the trio of diplomats who hang out with Howard. Ivan Simpson has a nice bit as a loyal butler at the British Embassy. The ending, in which a grim situation suddenly just vanishes and our couple is free to leave for England and a new life together, is a little hard to swallow. [TCM]
[Spoilers follow!!!] For its time, this must have been an interesting attempt to combine recent history with romance, but it doesn't really hold up now. I suppose one reason that I found it lacking was that it kept reminding me two much better films, DOCTOR ZHIVAGO and REDS. Leslie Howard is a British diplomat who is on his way to Moscow in 1917 during the tumultuous days of the Russian Revolution. The main concern of the British is that the revolutionaries will pull the Russian troops out of the war against Germany. On a stopover in St. Petersburg, Howard attends a party at the British Embassy which is marred (in a scene echoed in ZHIVAGO) when troops and marching masses collide in the streets. Howard comes to the aid of Kay Francis, who is being hunted for shooting a soldier, and the two hit it off. Later, when Lenin is swept into power, the British close the embassy, leaving only Howard and a few diplomat buddies to sit around drinking and playing poker. Francis, now an important person with the Bolsheviks, returns and flirts with Howard, but when she overhears Howard decode a message that asks him to take on an unofficial "Mission: Impossible" task to influence the current government to stay in the war, she betrays him by telling her bosses. After Lenin is shot and falls into a coma and the government does indeed pull the troops, Howard goes underground to help rebuild the White Army. Francis finds out and is torn in her loyalties. Eventually, she rats on Howard, but when she learns his that the garret where he's hiding is marked for destruction, she goes to him to await certain death. At the last minute, they are saved when Lenin comes out of his coma and pardons all political enemies. The actors are fine; I think they are let down by the script which tries to cover too much in too short a time. The idea of mixing the tumult of the Revolution with personal romance worked better many years later in REDS. I especially liked William Gargan, Philip Reed, and Cesar Romero as the trio of diplomats who hang out with Howard. Ivan Simpson has a nice bit as a loyal butler at the British Embassy. The ending, in which a grim situation suddenly just vanishes and our couple is free to leave for England and a new life together, is a little hard to swallow. [TCM]
Monday, January 30, 2006
SOULS FOR SALE (1923)
This silent film has been part of the Turner Classic library but because it didn't have a music track, it had never been aired. Now thanks to TCM's Young Composers contest, the film has a great musical score by Marcus Sjowall and it's also had some footage restored (though it could still stand some digital clean-up) and it's a delightful discovery. The film begins with a young newlywed (Eleanor Boardman) who runs away from her new husband (Lew Cody) on their wedding night--the only explanation given is that she suddenly feels "revolted" by him, though we quickly learn that he's a slimy con man who marries women for their money than kills them. She spends the night in the desert and wakes up the next morning to a romantic figure of a man on a camel, on a windswept sand dune. She asks, "Are you real or a mirage?" and he replies, "Neither--I'm a movie actor." From here on, the movie becomes mostly a Hollywood behind-the-scenes comedy. The director of the film being shot (Richard Dix) takes pity on Boardman and gives her a job as an extra, which leads to a screen test, a romance with Dix, and starlet status for Boardman. The tone of much of the film (self-referential and satirical) is fairly modern, and much fun is had with Hollywood cliches such as the casting couch and other lifestyle scandals. Boardman's father is a preacher who thinks of Hollywood as an evil place, though we're told that actors frequently party "until the heathenish hour of 11:30" and movie sets are made to seem very tough indeed--one actress has a huge light fall on her, breaking her legs and giving Boardman the chance she needs to move into a starring role.
Another cliche is attacked in a title card during the shooting of Boardman's first film which notes that "the usual sheik crosses the usual desert with the usual captive." There are some fun cameos by real celebs, including Erich von Stroheim (directing a scene from GREED), Charlie Chaplin, and Zasu Pitts. By the end, however, the melodramatic trappings of the beginning return: just as Dix proposes marriage to Boardman, her husband returns to the scene, threatening to expose her to scandal and ruin her career. The climax, set during the shooting of a storm scene which is hampered by a real storm rolling in and setting a circus set on fire, is a doozy. For the most part, the acting is toned down from the usual overwrought silent style of the time, except for Cody as the lady-killer husband. William Haines, in his first billed role, has a couple of scenes as an assistant director. Boardman's character's name is Remember Steddon. Quite fun and exciting, and I think appealing viewing even for folks who aren't really fans of silent films. [TCM]
This silent film has been part of the Turner Classic library but because it didn't have a music track, it had never been aired. Now thanks to TCM's Young Composers contest, the film has a great musical score by Marcus Sjowall and it's also had some footage restored (though it could still stand some digital clean-up) and it's a delightful discovery. The film begins with a young newlywed (Eleanor Boardman) who runs away from her new husband (Lew Cody) on their wedding night--the only explanation given is that she suddenly feels "revolted" by him, though we quickly learn that he's a slimy con man who marries women for their money than kills them. She spends the night in the desert and wakes up the next morning to a romantic figure of a man on a camel, on a windswept sand dune. She asks, "Are you real or a mirage?" and he replies, "Neither--I'm a movie actor." From here on, the movie becomes mostly a Hollywood behind-the-scenes comedy. The director of the film being shot (Richard Dix) takes pity on Boardman and gives her a job as an extra, which leads to a screen test, a romance with Dix, and starlet status for Boardman. The tone of much of the film (self-referential and satirical) is fairly modern, and much fun is had with Hollywood cliches such as the casting couch and other lifestyle scandals. Boardman's father is a preacher who thinks of Hollywood as an evil place, though we're told that actors frequently party "until the heathenish hour of 11:30" and movie sets are made to seem very tough indeed--one actress has a huge light fall on her, breaking her legs and giving Boardman the chance she needs to move into a starring role.
Another cliche is attacked in a title card during the shooting of Boardman's first film which notes that "the usual sheik crosses the usual desert with the usual captive." There are some fun cameos by real celebs, including Erich von Stroheim (directing a scene from GREED), Charlie Chaplin, and Zasu Pitts. By the end, however, the melodramatic trappings of the beginning return: just as Dix proposes marriage to Boardman, her husband returns to the scene, threatening to expose her to scandal and ruin her career. The climax, set during the shooting of a storm scene which is hampered by a real storm rolling in and setting a circus set on fire, is a doozy. For the most part, the acting is toned down from the usual overwrought silent style of the time, except for Cody as the lady-killer husband. William Haines, in his first billed role, has a couple of scenes as an assistant director. Boardman's character's name is Remember Steddon. Quite fun and exciting, and I think appealing viewing even for folks who aren't really fans of silent films. [TCM]
Friday, January 27, 2006
APACHE TRAIL (1942)
Nifty little B-western with the well-used plot device of a small group of people under siege, in this case, a bunch of travelers stuck in a small way station surrounded by unfriendly Indians. Our hero (third-billed William Lundigan) is the kid brother of a well-known hellraiser and bandit (Lloyd Nolan). After a stagecoach robbery, Nolan got away but Lundigan, who seems to have been mostly an onlooker, was arrested. The amusing opening scene has a traveling judge passing a 60-day sentence on Lundigan without even getting out of his coach. Since Lunidgan has already served 90 days, the judge amends his sentence to 90 and Lundigan is freed. He goes back to his employer at the stagecoach and is given the job of running a way station in the middle of rough and tumble Apache country. With help from a Mexican woman (Connie Gilchrist), her young and lovely daughter (Donna Reed), and a friendly bunch of deputies, Lundigan settles into his job but is soon challenged when a group of travelers are stranded at the small walled-in fort during an Apache uprising. Nolan also shows up, coveting the Wells Fargo payroll box, and it turns out that the Indians are (literally) on the warpath because, in the midst of being made an honorary Apache, Nolan stole a valuable medicine pipe. After an initial raid, the Apaches ask for Nolan to be given up to them or they'll continue their siege of the fort. Lundigan refuses to give up his own flesh and blood, but in the end, Nolan sacrifices himself to save the rest. Nolan and Reed are top-billed, and Nolan is quite good as the shifty villain, but Reed has very little to do except use her best Natalie Wood-style Mexican accent while flirting with the hero. Lundigan does nicely as the handsome, wholesome, and sturdy hero. In notable support are Chill Wills as a wounded visitor who joins the group at the fort, Fuzzy Knight doing a stuttering comic-relief role (and getting a serious moment when his close buddy is killed), Miles Mander as a sickly frontier artist, Gloria Holden (who played Dracula's daughter in the 1936 film) as his wife, Tito Renaldo as a "good-guy" Indian, and Anne Ayars (who at times look just like Ruth Hussey) as a Civil War widow who flirts briefly with Lundigan. There's perhaps a little too much plot here for the hour-long film, but it's an enjoyable hour, and being an MGM B-film, it looks as good as any A-western of the time. [TCM]
Nifty little B-western with the well-used plot device of a small group of people under siege, in this case, a bunch of travelers stuck in a small way station surrounded by unfriendly Indians. Our hero (third-billed William Lundigan) is the kid brother of a well-known hellraiser and bandit (Lloyd Nolan). After a stagecoach robbery, Nolan got away but Lundigan, who seems to have been mostly an onlooker, was arrested. The amusing opening scene has a traveling judge passing a 60-day sentence on Lundigan without even getting out of his coach. Since Lunidgan has already served 90 days, the judge amends his sentence to 90 and Lundigan is freed. He goes back to his employer at the stagecoach and is given the job of running a way station in the middle of rough and tumble Apache country. With help from a Mexican woman (Connie Gilchrist), her young and lovely daughter (Donna Reed), and a friendly bunch of deputies, Lundigan settles into his job but is soon challenged when a group of travelers are stranded at the small walled-in fort during an Apache uprising. Nolan also shows up, coveting the Wells Fargo payroll box, and it turns out that the Indians are (literally) on the warpath because, in the midst of being made an honorary Apache, Nolan stole a valuable medicine pipe. After an initial raid, the Apaches ask for Nolan to be given up to them or they'll continue their siege of the fort. Lundigan refuses to give up his own flesh and blood, but in the end, Nolan sacrifices himself to save the rest. Nolan and Reed are top-billed, and Nolan is quite good as the shifty villain, but Reed has very little to do except use her best Natalie Wood-style Mexican accent while flirting with the hero. Lundigan does nicely as the handsome, wholesome, and sturdy hero. In notable support are Chill Wills as a wounded visitor who joins the group at the fort, Fuzzy Knight doing a stuttering comic-relief role (and getting a serious moment when his close buddy is killed), Miles Mander as a sickly frontier artist, Gloria Holden (who played Dracula's daughter in the 1936 film) as his wife, Tito Renaldo as a "good-guy" Indian, and Anne Ayars (who at times look just like Ruth Hussey) as a Civil War widow who flirts briefly with Lundigan. There's perhaps a little too much plot here for the hour-long film, but it's an enjoyable hour, and being an MGM B-film, it looks as good as any A-western of the time. [TCM]
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
THE SPANISH CAPE MYSTERY (1935)
I've read an Ellery Queen story or two and I remember fairly well the Jim Hutton series of the 70's, but I had never seen an Ellery Queen movie until now. There was a short-lived series from Columbia with Ralph Bellamy, but the one I saw was an earlier film from B-studio Republic, with supporting player Donald Cook as the young detective who usually matches wits with his father--though in this film, it's Judge Macklin (Berton Churchill) who fills the older-man foil position. The film opens with Cook taking a couple of minutes of solve a crime for his dad before he and the judge leave for a vacation on the California coast at Spanish Cape (a resort area, I assume). They're staying in a guest house on the grounds and get roped into helping out at the nearby Godfrey mansion during a house party involving a bunch of unlikable gold-digging relatives who are out to crack a will they think is unfair to them. Friendly Uncle Dave (Huntley Gordon) is kidnapped while out for a moonlight stroll with his niece (Helen Twelvetrees). It seems that the thugs who snatched him thought he was actually George Baxter, a man who's been flirting with Twelvetrees (with her encouragement), even though she's engaged to Arnold Gray. After Cook and the judge arrive at the scene, Baxter is found dead, along with a letter indicating that he was cheating the family. Next to go is the greedy Mr. Munn who had been fighting with his wife. When someone suspects Mrs. Munn, the local sheriff (Harry Stubbs) says, "If every woman who fought with her husband killed him, America would be populated solely by Amazons." When Gray is found dead, suspicion falls on Twelevetrees. It takes one more death for Queen to dope out the identity of the killer; in retrospect, it's a predictable solution but I didn't figure it out. Twelvetrees is very good, though it took me a while to warm to her; Cook doesn't have much charisma but he's acceptable, and he handles the humorous banter with Twelvetrees fairly well. For a Republic film, the production values are not bad and the print I saw (from Encore Mystery) was in remarkably good shape. [TV]
I've read an Ellery Queen story or two and I remember fairly well the Jim Hutton series of the 70's, but I had never seen an Ellery Queen movie until now. There was a short-lived series from Columbia with Ralph Bellamy, but the one I saw was an earlier film from B-studio Republic, with supporting player Donald Cook as the young detective who usually matches wits with his father--though in this film, it's Judge Macklin (Berton Churchill) who fills the older-man foil position. The film opens with Cook taking a couple of minutes of solve a crime for his dad before he and the judge leave for a vacation on the California coast at Spanish Cape (a resort area, I assume). They're staying in a guest house on the grounds and get roped into helping out at the nearby Godfrey mansion during a house party involving a bunch of unlikable gold-digging relatives who are out to crack a will they think is unfair to them. Friendly Uncle Dave (Huntley Gordon) is kidnapped while out for a moonlight stroll with his niece (Helen Twelvetrees). It seems that the thugs who snatched him thought he was actually George Baxter, a man who's been flirting with Twelvetrees (with her encouragement), even though she's engaged to Arnold Gray. After Cook and the judge arrive at the scene, Baxter is found dead, along with a letter indicating that he was cheating the family. Next to go is the greedy Mr. Munn who had been fighting with his wife. When someone suspects Mrs. Munn, the local sheriff (Harry Stubbs) says, "If every woman who fought with her husband killed him, America would be populated solely by Amazons." When Gray is found dead, suspicion falls on Twelevetrees. It takes one more death for Queen to dope out the identity of the killer; in retrospect, it's a predictable solution but I didn't figure it out. Twelvetrees is very good, though it took me a while to warm to her; Cook doesn't have much charisma but he's acceptable, and he handles the humorous banter with Twelvetrees fairly well. For a Republic film, the production values are not bad and the print I saw (from Encore Mystery) was in remarkably good shape. [TV]
Thursday, January 19, 2006
MR. DODD TAKES THE AIR (1937)
A rather ho-hum semi-musical bit of whimsy which seems designed as a launching pad for radio singer Kenny Baker's movie career; it didn't quite work, given that he only made a few more films over the next ten years, then retired from the screen. He comes off like a hayseed Dick Powell without the touch of sophistication that Powell brought to his parts. Baker plays Claude Dodd, an electrician from the small town of Pewamo who is discovered singing at the local strawberry festival by a big-city mattress manufacturer (Ferris Taylor, whose company is called Morpheus Mattress). Taylor likes the boy's rich baritone voice, and the fact that his wife fell asleep while Baker was singing makes Taylor think that Baker would be a natural to sing soothing tunes on his company-sponsored late night radio show. But by the time Baker gets on the air, he has had an operation due to an attack of "quinsy" (yes, it's real--Dictionary.com says it's an inflamed abscess of the tonsils) and his baritone has risen to tenor. Taylor isn't happy, but the listening audience loves him and the radio station owner (Henry O'Neill) signs him to a big-money contract to sing on the Toothpaste Hour. In one of the most artificial plot contrivances ever, it turns out that Baker also has an invention that can make old radios sound like new, and this gets him entangled with a swindler (John Eldredge). The somewhat homely and naive Baker also winds up with three women after him: opera singer Alice Brady, conniving Gertrude Michael, and radio station secretary Jane Wyman, who of course is the one he ends up with, but not until a series of con jobs, ransackings, and misunderstandings (not to mention another case of quinsy) sends him back to the simple life in Pewamo. Baker is rather drab, but he is surrounded by a competent cast, highlighted by the delightful Brady, in high diva mode, and the reliable Frank McHugh as his friend and manager. Harry Davenport has a small role as a Pewamo doctor, and if you watch carefully, you may see William Hopper and Dave O'Brien in uncredited bits. Baker's baritone song, "If I Were a Lily," is a hoot, and a later song, "Remember Me," was nominated for an Oscar, but otherwise the music is not particularly memorable. [TCM]
A rather ho-hum semi-musical bit of whimsy which seems designed as a launching pad for radio singer Kenny Baker's movie career; it didn't quite work, given that he only made a few more films over the next ten years, then retired from the screen. He comes off like a hayseed Dick Powell without the touch of sophistication that Powell brought to his parts. Baker plays Claude Dodd, an electrician from the small town of Pewamo who is discovered singing at the local strawberry festival by a big-city mattress manufacturer (Ferris Taylor, whose company is called Morpheus Mattress). Taylor likes the boy's rich baritone voice, and the fact that his wife fell asleep while Baker was singing makes Taylor think that Baker would be a natural to sing soothing tunes on his company-sponsored late night radio show. But by the time Baker gets on the air, he has had an operation due to an attack of "quinsy" (yes, it's real--Dictionary.com says it's an inflamed abscess of the tonsils) and his baritone has risen to tenor. Taylor isn't happy, but the listening audience loves him and the radio station owner (Henry O'Neill) signs him to a big-money contract to sing on the Toothpaste Hour. In one of the most artificial plot contrivances ever, it turns out that Baker also has an invention that can make old radios sound like new, and this gets him entangled with a swindler (John Eldredge). The somewhat homely and naive Baker also winds up with three women after him: opera singer Alice Brady, conniving Gertrude Michael, and radio station secretary Jane Wyman, who of course is the one he ends up with, but not until a series of con jobs, ransackings, and misunderstandings (not to mention another case of quinsy) sends him back to the simple life in Pewamo. Baker is rather drab, but he is surrounded by a competent cast, highlighted by the delightful Brady, in high diva mode, and the reliable Frank McHugh as his friend and manager. Harry Davenport has a small role as a Pewamo doctor, and if you watch carefully, you may see William Hopper and Dave O'Brien in uncredited bits. Baker's baritone song, "If I Were a Lily," is a hoot, and a later song, "Remember Me," was nominated for an Oscar, but otherwise the music is not particularly memorable. [TCM]
Monday, January 16, 2006
THE BIG RED ONE (1980)
I usually restrict my blog reviews to movies from the 30's to the 60's, but I'm making an exception here because this film was directed by Samuel Fuller, a cult B-movie director whose heyday was in the 50's and 60's. I haven't seen many of his films, but the ones I have seen (PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET, THE NAKED KISS) are excellent. This one from fairly late in his career was released by a major studio but made on a relatively small budget and it shows. The directorial style is a little awkward at times, and the screenplay could have used some more work, but it's an interesting war movie which gains in power as it goes along, and looks rather ahead of its time now. The episodic narrative, based on Fuller's own experiences, follows a group of five soldiers from the First Infantry Divison (the Big Red 1 of the title) through the entire course of WWII. The sergeant is Lee Marvin; we first see him in WWI in a memorable prologue involving a rampaging shell-shocked horse and the killing of a German soldier who is desperately trying to tell his killer that the Armistice has been signed. Marvin and his four young riflemen are the focus of the film, which begins in North Africa in 1942, then jumps ahead through Sicily, Normandy (D-Day), Belgium, and Germany (the German surrender in 1945).
The various episodes range in tone from humorous to gory to surreal, and sometimes all three in one. Natives cut the ears off of dead German soldiers and use them to barter with the GIs for cigarettes. Marvin, in a makeshift hospital, gets a wet kiss on the mouth from an admiring German soldier. The soldiers help a woman give birth in a tank. A young man gets a testicle blown off by a land mine and Marvin causally tosses it over his shoulder, assuring the kid that he only needs one. The most surreal scene involves a raid on an insane asylum; a Resistance member (Stephane Audran) has been planted there, and as she dances about as though she's in another world, she cuts the throats of several German soldiers. When gunfire breaks out later in the dining room, the inmates continue eating as though nothing is happening until one inmate grabs a machine gun and starts firing at random. That night, Mark Hamill (the passive blond solider who is uncomfortable with the idea of killing) has wild sex with Audran right in the middle of a room of sleeping inmates. The other soldiers, all of whom (in direct opposition to war movie conventions) survive the war, are Robert Carradine (a writer and stand-in for Fuller), Bobby DiCicco, and Kelly Ward. A running sick joke is that the soldiers quit bothering to learn the names of new infantry members because they'll just wind up dead, and indeed, like the guest stars on Star Trek, all the newbies do wind up dead, though one guy (Perry Lang as a big blond doofus) actually survives for a couple of episodes, and when he does get killed, he manages to bring his killer down as well. The individual episodes are good, but much of the dialogue is corny or falls flat, especially Lee Marvin's many "punch lines": in a particularly intense segment set in a liberated concentration camp, Hamill fires repeatedly at a German soldier who is hiding in a crematory oven, but the mood is shattered when Marvin comes up from behind and says, "I think you got him." Carradine, who narrates the film, never seems comfortable with a cigar hanging out of his mouth, but generally the actors are fine, though they never look or feel very battle-hardened, at least as such things are generally conveyed in Hollywood movies. The budget constraints didn't allow for many "epic" battle scenes, but I imagine that Fuller's message, "Surviving is the only glory in war," is better served by that. For all its small disappointments, this film (the reconstructed 2-1/2 hour cut currently on DVD) is well worth watching. [DVD]
I usually restrict my blog reviews to movies from the 30's to the 60's, but I'm making an exception here because this film was directed by Samuel Fuller, a cult B-movie director whose heyday was in the 50's and 60's. I haven't seen many of his films, but the ones I have seen (PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET, THE NAKED KISS) are excellent. This one from fairly late in his career was released by a major studio but made on a relatively small budget and it shows. The directorial style is a little awkward at times, and the screenplay could have used some more work, but it's an interesting war movie which gains in power as it goes along, and looks rather ahead of its time now. The episodic narrative, based on Fuller's own experiences, follows a group of five soldiers from the First Infantry Divison (the Big Red 1 of the title) through the entire course of WWII. The sergeant is Lee Marvin; we first see him in WWI in a memorable prologue involving a rampaging shell-shocked horse and the killing of a German soldier who is desperately trying to tell his killer that the Armistice has been signed. Marvin and his four young riflemen are the focus of the film, which begins in North Africa in 1942, then jumps ahead through Sicily, Normandy (D-Day), Belgium, and Germany (the German surrender in 1945).
The various episodes range in tone from humorous to gory to surreal, and sometimes all three in one. Natives cut the ears off of dead German soldiers and use them to barter with the GIs for cigarettes. Marvin, in a makeshift hospital, gets a wet kiss on the mouth from an admiring German soldier. The soldiers help a woman give birth in a tank. A young man gets a testicle blown off by a land mine and Marvin causally tosses it over his shoulder, assuring the kid that he only needs one. The most surreal scene involves a raid on an insane asylum; a Resistance member (Stephane Audran) has been planted there, and as she dances about as though she's in another world, she cuts the throats of several German soldiers. When gunfire breaks out later in the dining room, the inmates continue eating as though nothing is happening until one inmate grabs a machine gun and starts firing at random. That night, Mark Hamill (the passive blond solider who is uncomfortable with the idea of killing) has wild sex with Audran right in the middle of a room of sleeping inmates. The other soldiers, all of whom (in direct opposition to war movie conventions) survive the war, are Robert Carradine (a writer and stand-in for Fuller), Bobby DiCicco, and Kelly Ward. A running sick joke is that the soldiers quit bothering to learn the names of new infantry members because they'll just wind up dead, and indeed, like the guest stars on Star Trek, all the newbies do wind up dead, though one guy (Perry Lang as a big blond doofus) actually survives for a couple of episodes, and when he does get killed, he manages to bring his killer down as well. The individual episodes are good, but much of the dialogue is corny or falls flat, especially Lee Marvin's many "punch lines": in a particularly intense segment set in a liberated concentration camp, Hamill fires repeatedly at a German soldier who is hiding in a crematory oven, but the mood is shattered when Marvin comes up from behind and says, "I think you got him." Carradine, who narrates the film, never seems comfortable with a cigar hanging out of his mouth, but generally the actors are fine, though they never look or feel very battle-hardened, at least as such things are generally conveyed in Hollywood movies. The budget constraints didn't allow for many "epic" battle scenes, but I imagine that Fuller's message, "Surviving is the only glory in war," is better served by that. For all its small disappointments, this film (the reconstructed 2-1/2 hour cut currently on DVD) is well worth watching. [DVD]
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
ABOVE SUSPICION (1943)
This enjoyable film belongs to one of my favorite genres, the light-hearted spy thriller, which flourished in the early days of WWII until the more serious documentary style thriller became popular during the 50's. This one is notable for the unusual star combo of Joan Crawford and Fred MacMurray, who wind up working very well together. The film, set in 1939, begins with MacMurray, an Rhodes Scholar teaching at Oxford, marrying Crawford and taking off for a honeymoon. They are waylaid by an officer of the Foreign Service who asks them to find out the whereabouts of a British contact in Germany who has the plans to some super-secret magnetic mines; he has vanished and the couple is to try and find him and bring the information back. As they follow the trail, they come into contact with a number of fine character actors in interesting roles: Conrad Veidt, fresh from playing the hissable movie Nazi Major Strasser in CASABLANCA, plays a shadowy German figure who winds up being a good guy (and sadly, this was his last role before his untimely death of a heart attack just 2 months after this movie was finished); Basil Rathbone does the villain honors as a former Rhodes Scholar turned Gestapo officer whom MacMurray and Crawford can't quite shake; Reginald Owen is the kidnapped man with the plans; Felix Bressart has a small role as a bookseller contact; Cecil Cunningham is Rathbone's mother and Bruce Lester is a British spy whose wife was killed at Dachau. There is a nice scene right out of THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH involving an assassination at a Liszt concert, and it's fun to see MacMurray and Crawford in old-age makeup near the end as they try to elude Rathbone and get to the border. Though the tone of the film darkens in places, the pace never flags. [TCM]
This enjoyable film belongs to one of my favorite genres, the light-hearted spy thriller, which flourished in the early days of WWII until the more serious documentary style thriller became popular during the 50's. This one is notable for the unusual star combo of Joan Crawford and Fred MacMurray, who wind up working very well together. The film, set in 1939, begins with MacMurray, an Rhodes Scholar teaching at Oxford, marrying Crawford and taking off for a honeymoon. They are waylaid by an officer of the Foreign Service who asks them to find out the whereabouts of a British contact in Germany who has the plans to some super-secret magnetic mines; he has vanished and the couple is to try and find him and bring the information back. As they follow the trail, they come into contact with a number of fine character actors in interesting roles: Conrad Veidt, fresh from playing the hissable movie Nazi Major Strasser in CASABLANCA, plays a shadowy German figure who winds up being a good guy (and sadly, this was his last role before his untimely death of a heart attack just 2 months after this movie was finished); Basil Rathbone does the villain honors as a former Rhodes Scholar turned Gestapo officer whom MacMurray and Crawford can't quite shake; Reginald Owen is the kidnapped man with the plans; Felix Bressart has a small role as a bookseller contact; Cecil Cunningham is Rathbone's mother and Bruce Lester is a British spy whose wife was killed at Dachau. There is a nice scene right out of THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH involving an assassination at a Liszt concert, and it's fun to see MacMurray and Crawford in old-age makeup near the end as they try to elude Rathbone and get to the border. Though the tone of the film darkens in places, the pace never flags. [TCM]
Sunday, January 08, 2006
REPENT AT LEISURE (1941)
A runaway-bride screwball comedy done on a B-budget, which means that some of it works fine, but you keep wishing that the acting and writing were just a little bit sharper. Wendy Barrie is the daughter of department store owner George Barbier; when we first meet her, she is running out on her wedding to gold-digging Prince Paul (Rafael Storm) with the blessings of her father. Jumping on a double-decker bus, in full wedding gown splendor, she bums some bus fare from Kent Taylor, a mild-mannered bespectacled fellow (who looks exactly like Clark Kent!). He's into reading books about success, although he's not having much luck setting the world on fire in his job as an accountant (at, of course, her father's store). To explain the wedding gown, she tells him that she's a model and that she just quit her job because of an abusive boss. He takes her under his wing, letting her stay at his apartment while he stays with a friend. She is taken with him, largely because he's interested in her for herself, not her money. When the store, which is the target for a hostile merger by competitor Thurston Hall, has to make some cuts, they start with unmarried males, so Taylor tells his boss (Charles Lane) he's married, and he proposes to Barrie, who accepts, and they even adopt a baby (a bizarre plot point that doesn't really work; it just seems like an attempt to throw more "madcapness" into the mix). Taylor moves up in the organization, co-workers figure out who he's married to, and the news eventually reaches Taylor. He resents the subterfuge, leaves Barrie, and quits, getting hired by the competition and triggering a heated sales competition. Both the romance and the merger get resolved in a rather rushed manner in the last ten minutes. Taylor and Barrie are about evenly matched and work together fairly well, though both would get wiped off the screen by Grant and Hepburn, or Powell and Loy. Cecil Cunningham is good in a small role in her usual high bitch mode. There's an amusing sequence near the end involving the baby running loose on a department-store floor, but generally the movie is at its best during its first half. [TCM]
A runaway-bride screwball comedy done on a B-budget, which means that some of it works fine, but you keep wishing that the acting and writing were just a little bit sharper. Wendy Barrie is the daughter of department store owner George Barbier; when we first meet her, she is running out on her wedding to gold-digging Prince Paul (Rafael Storm) with the blessings of her father. Jumping on a double-decker bus, in full wedding gown splendor, she bums some bus fare from Kent Taylor, a mild-mannered bespectacled fellow (who looks exactly like Clark Kent!). He's into reading books about success, although he's not having much luck setting the world on fire in his job as an accountant (at, of course, her father's store). To explain the wedding gown, she tells him that she's a model and that she just quit her job because of an abusive boss. He takes her under his wing, letting her stay at his apartment while he stays with a friend. She is taken with him, largely because he's interested in her for herself, not her money. When the store, which is the target for a hostile merger by competitor Thurston Hall, has to make some cuts, they start with unmarried males, so Taylor tells his boss (Charles Lane) he's married, and he proposes to Barrie, who accepts, and they even adopt a baby (a bizarre plot point that doesn't really work; it just seems like an attempt to throw more "madcapness" into the mix). Taylor moves up in the organization, co-workers figure out who he's married to, and the news eventually reaches Taylor. He resents the subterfuge, leaves Barrie, and quits, getting hired by the competition and triggering a heated sales competition. Both the romance and the merger get resolved in a rather rushed manner in the last ten minutes. Taylor and Barrie are about evenly matched and work together fairly well, though both would get wiped off the screen by Grant and Hepburn, or Powell and Loy. Cecil Cunningham is good in a small role in her usual high bitch mode. There's an amusing sequence near the end involving the baby running loose on a department-store floor, but generally the movie is at its best during its first half. [TCM]
Thursday, January 05, 2006
CLASH BY NIGHT (1952)
This Fritz Lang movie has been released on DVD as part of a film noir boxed set, but I think it will disappoint true noir aficionados; aside from the fact that much of the action takes place at night, this isn't noir, but a romantic triangle melodrama with good performances and some awfully purple dialogue which comes off like second-rate Tennessee Williams. Barbara Stanwyck is Mae, a woman who returns to her hometown, a California fishing village, having been beaten down by the big city; she was mistress to a rich, married man and was left penniless when he died. She moves in with her hunky younger brother (Keith Andes) and, apparently ready to settle for protective domesticity, starts dating big lug fisherman Paul Douglas, not terribly smart or handsome, but a considerate, salt-of-the-earth guy anyway. However, she soon finds herself attracted to Douglas' buddy, Robert Ryan, a restless type who works as a projectionist at the local theater. Ryan can be charming, except when he drinks, but he is also a cynical and deeply unhappy man stuck in a bad marriage to a traveling burlesque dancer. Stanwyck eventually marries Douglas and they have a baby; a year later, Ryan, divorced, re-enters Stanwyck's placid and boring life, tempting her into a steamy affair. She decides to leave with Ryan, but Douglas won't let her take their child. After Douglas and Ryan come to blows, Stanwyck ultimately decides to stick it out with Douglas and domesticity.
Stanwyck is the reason to watch this; she gives a solid performance, making her character sympathetic and multi-layered. Despite the various twists and turns Mae takes, Stanwyck, in the current vernacular, always "keeps it real." I can't quite say the same for Ryan, though in his defense, the character as written too often feels like just a character rather than a real person. The best scene in the movie is when a hungover Ryan lustily grapples with an emotionally vulnerable Stanwyck at the kitchen sink; you can feel their frustrations, their doubt, and their heat. Douglas is good at conveying the sensitive side of the lug; you can see why Stanwyck likes him (even if you're never convinced that she loves him). There is a vaguely parallel subplot, involving Andes and his girlfriend, Marilyn Monroe, that isn't developed very deeply, but it's nice to see two gorgeous people kiss and bicker occasionally. Andes is nice looking and good in his limited role, and it's too bad he never achieved full leading man stardom. J. Carroll Naish has a small but pivotal role as Douglas' nasty uncle. The opening, a panorama of shots of the sea and a near-documentary look at the fishing boats and the canning works, feels a lot like the opening of John Sayles' LIMBO. [TCM]
This Fritz Lang movie has been released on DVD as part of a film noir boxed set, but I think it will disappoint true noir aficionados; aside from the fact that much of the action takes place at night, this isn't noir, but a romantic triangle melodrama with good performances and some awfully purple dialogue which comes off like second-rate Tennessee Williams. Barbara Stanwyck is Mae, a woman who returns to her hometown, a California fishing village, having been beaten down by the big city; she was mistress to a rich, married man and was left penniless when he died. She moves in with her hunky younger brother (Keith Andes) and, apparently ready to settle for protective domesticity, starts dating big lug fisherman Paul Douglas, not terribly smart or handsome, but a considerate, salt-of-the-earth guy anyway. However, she soon finds herself attracted to Douglas' buddy, Robert Ryan, a restless type who works as a projectionist at the local theater. Ryan can be charming, except when he drinks, but he is also a cynical and deeply unhappy man stuck in a bad marriage to a traveling burlesque dancer. Stanwyck eventually marries Douglas and they have a baby; a year later, Ryan, divorced, re-enters Stanwyck's placid and boring life, tempting her into a steamy affair. She decides to leave with Ryan, but Douglas won't let her take their child. After Douglas and Ryan come to blows, Stanwyck ultimately decides to stick it out with Douglas and domesticity.
Stanwyck is the reason to watch this; she gives a solid performance, making her character sympathetic and multi-layered. Despite the various twists and turns Mae takes, Stanwyck, in the current vernacular, always "keeps it real." I can't quite say the same for Ryan, though in his defense, the character as written too often feels like just a character rather than a real person. The best scene in the movie is when a hungover Ryan lustily grapples with an emotionally vulnerable Stanwyck at the kitchen sink; you can feel their frustrations, their doubt, and their heat. Douglas is good at conveying the sensitive side of the lug; you can see why Stanwyck likes him (even if you're never convinced that she loves him). There is a vaguely parallel subplot, involving Andes and his girlfriend, Marilyn Monroe, that isn't developed very deeply, but it's nice to see two gorgeous people kiss and bicker occasionally. Andes is nice looking and good in his limited role, and it's too bad he never achieved full leading man stardom. J. Carroll Naish has a small but pivotal role as Douglas' nasty uncle. The opening, a panorama of shots of the sea and a near-documentary look at the fishing boats and the canning works, feels a lot like the opening of John Sayles' LIMBO. [TCM]
Sunday, January 01, 2006
SVENGALI (1931)
The name "Svengali" has entered popular culture usage to refer to anyone who has some overwhelming power or influence over someone else, usually in a negative sense. The producers and managers of such "manufactured" music stars as Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys are called "pop svengalis"--you'll get lots of hits on Google with this phrase. The term comes from the character of Svengali the hypnotist in the novel "Trilby" by George DuMaurier, popularized by this early talkie starring John Barrymore. This is sometimes referred to as a borderline horror film, but anyone approaching it that way will be disappointed, though the stark, oversized sets and atmospheric lighting are reminiscent of CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI and make the movie a stylistic kin to the later Universal horror films, especially SON OF FRANKENSTEIN. Barrymore's Svengali is as pathetic as he is sinister; with overly theatrical makeup, he comes off like a grungy cross between Fagin and Dracula. In the first scene, we see him in a shabby apartment with a rich woman (Carmen Myers) who has just dumped her husband for Barrymore, but when he finds out that she neglected to get a cash settlement from the hubby, he glares at her until she goes running from the room and jumps in the river to her death. In the apartment of two artists (Donald Crisp and Luis Alberni) who enjoy pulling pranks on Barrymore, he meets a lovely young model (Marian Marsh) with whom he becomes obsessed. Although she seems to be romantically interested in blond fop Bramwell Fletcher, Barrymore uses his hypnotic powers to make her think that she's just a common tramp and not good enough for Fletcher. He fakes her death and spirits her away, turning her into an operatic sensation. Barrymore realizes he can force her through hypnosis to love him, but he remains unsatisfied because, as he says, making love to her is like talking to himself. Five years later, Fletcher and his artist friends come upon her at one of her performances and her memory is jogged enough to cause trouble. Barrymore and Marsh flee to Egypt but Fletcher follows them and in a nicely melodramatic ending, Barrymore drops dead, Marsh loses her voice and also drops dead, while Fletcher looks on helplessly. I wasn't terribly impressed with Barrymore or Fletcher, but Marsh is quite good (and quite sexy, and even gets a brief nude scene). One scene showing Barrymore's power over Marsh is justly famous: as Svengali stands at his window, the camera pans out of the room and across the roofs of Paris into Marsh's room, where we can tell that she feels his presence (accompanied by the loud sound of rushing wind). As horror, this doesn't quite cut it, but as a period melodrama, it's an interesting exercise in visual style. [TCM]
The name "Svengali" has entered popular culture usage to refer to anyone who has some overwhelming power or influence over someone else, usually in a negative sense. The producers and managers of such "manufactured" music stars as Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys are called "pop svengalis"--you'll get lots of hits on Google with this phrase. The term comes from the character of Svengali the hypnotist in the novel "Trilby" by George DuMaurier, popularized by this early talkie starring John Barrymore. This is sometimes referred to as a borderline horror film, but anyone approaching it that way will be disappointed, though the stark, oversized sets and atmospheric lighting are reminiscent of CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI and make the movie a stylistic kin to the later Universal horror films, especially SON OF FRANKENSTEIN. Barrymore's Svengali is as pathetic as he is sinister; with overly theatrical makeup, he comes off like a grungy cross between Fagin and Dracula. In the first scene, we see him in a shabby apartment with a rich woman (Carmen Myers) who has just dumped her husband for Barrymore, but when he finds out that she neglected to get a cash settlement from the hubby, he glares at her until she goes running from the room and jumps in the river to her death. In the apartment of two artists (Donald Crisp and Luis Alberni) who enjoy pulling pranks on Barrymore, he meets a lovely young model (Marian Marsh) with whom he becomes obsessed. Although she seems to be romantically interested in blond fop Bramwell Fletcher, Barrymore uses his hypnotic powers to make her think that she's just a common tramp and not good enough for Fletcher. He fakes her death and spirits her away, turning her into an operatic sensation. Barrymore realizes he can force her through hypnosis to love him, but he remains unsatisfied because, as he says, making love to her is like talking to himself. Five years later, Fletcher and his artist friends come upon her at one of her performances and her memory is jogged enough to cause trouble. Barrymore and Marsh flee to Egypt but Fletcher follows them and in a nicely melodramatic ending, Barrymore drops dead, Marsh loses her voice and also drops dead, while Fletcher looks on helplessly. I wasn't terribly impressed with Barrymore or Fletcher, but Marsh is quite good (and quite sexy, and even gets a brief nude scene). One scene showing Barrymore's power over Marsh is justly famous: as Svengali stands at his window, the camera pans out of the room and across the roofs of Paris into Marsh's room, where we can tell that she feels his presence (accompanied by the loud sound of rushing wind). As horror, this doesn't quite cut it, but as a period melodrama, it's an interesting exercise in visual style. [TCM]
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