I COVER THE WATERFRONT (1933)

A solid pre-Code melodrama, and a 30's version of an "indie" film made by the small-scale Reliance Pictures. I'm not sure what Claudette Colbert is doing here, given that she was in the middle of becoming a big star at mainstream Paramount, but she's very good, mostly making up for the shortcomings of her leading man, Ben Lyon, who plays the "I" of the title, a reporter who is trying to prove that grizzled old fisherman Ernest Torrence is the brains behind a ring of men who are smuggling desperate Chinese immigrants into the U.S. We know that Torrence is indeed the chief bad guy, and we see him callously dump a tied-up Chinese man overboard when a Coast Guard ship heads over to investigate. When Lyon sees the lovely Colbert skinny-dipping, he thinks she's just another quickie novelty headline, but when he finds out she's Torrence's daughter, he decides to cultivate a friendship with her in order to dig up some incriminating dirt, but then he finds himself falling for her. There's a bizarre seduction scene set in a prison ship museum in which Lyon straps Colbert into an arcane torture device and kisses her. There's also a shark hunting scene that wouldn't seem out of place in JAWS, and another scene with smuggled immigrants tumbling out of a dead shark's belly that is startling. The climactic action plays out well, though the very end feels rushed. Lots of little racy pre-Code touches add pizzazz; in addition to Colbert's dip in the ocean, there's a nudie girl painting in the boat, and Colbert and Lyon talk openly about moving in together. Torrence is very good as the villain, who is nevertheless a caring father. Lyon is the only weak link, and he's not really bad, just out of his league opposite Colbert. [DVD]

NO OTHER WOMAN (1933)

I enjoyed this predictable soap opera for the chance to see two supporting players of the 30's whose careers petered out by the end of the decade: Eric Linden and Gwili Andre. The stars of this undistinguished, melodramatic twaddle are Charles Bickford and Irene Dunne. He is a hard-working but unambitious and uncouth steelworker who is happy bringing home just enough money to live on; she is his wife who runs a boarding house and has dreams of making it big, or more precisely, of her husband making it big. When a boarder (Eric Linden) who likes to mess around with chemistry comes up a new dye formula, Dunne sees its potential and talks Bickford into investing their life savings in a company designed to exploit the new discovery. The one surprise in the plot happens here: I was sure that Bickford would lose his shirt and resent Dunne and Linden, discover they're having an affair, and maybe even plot to kill them, but instead, the company becomes a wild success, and Linden and Dunne remain platonic friends. Bickford winds up buying out a competing company and building a huge industrial complex. In addition to taking on the nice manners of the upper classes, he also takes on their morality and has a torrid affair with big city sexpot Gwili Andre. Dunne catches him and Andre insists that he divorce Dunne to marry her. He tries to, but Dunne fights it, so he bribes a host of family friends and workers to testify that Dunne is an adulteress so he can get his divorce and get custody of their child. The climax is a nasty courtroom battle in which Dunne calls Bickford's bluff in a dramatic fashion.

Dunne is fine, but Bickford is colorless, even when he gets a potentially juicy drunk scene early in the film. Linden's character is ill-defined; I thought in the beginning that he was Bickford's kid brother, but he's not. Maybe he winds up gay, or a chemistry geek, or both. A character (Lelia Bennett) who helps out at Dunne's boarding house seems downright mentally handicapped, but there's no clear sign that this is an intended interpretation. The biggest problem in terms of plot is the lawyer, played by J. Carroll Naish; apparently, he was Andre's lover before Bickford came along, and perhaps after as well, though that is not make clear. He's the one who represents Bickford in court, but to no apparent larger purpose. The movie is not quite an hour long, and perhaps some of these plot points were left on the cutting room floor (perhaps by producer David O. Selznick back in his early RKO days). It's not a terrible movie, but it could have been better with sharper writing and someone like Joel McCrea in the male lead. [TCM]

THE FAN (1949)

Oscar Wilde's "Lady Windermere's Fan" is the basis for this amusing comedy of manners. I haven't seen or read the play, and predictably most critics don't like the liberties the movie takes with the original material, but on its own merits, I found this to be a pleasant enough diversion. The frame story, set in post-WWII London, has the ancient Mrs. Erlynne (Madeleine Carroll) claiming to be the owner of a fan being sold at an auction; she contacts her old friend Lord Darlington (George Sanders) so he can prove her identity, but his memory needs some prodding, so the rest of the film is a series of flashbacks to a time when Carroll, a middle-aged "adventuress," as she calls herself, is rebuilding her life (for reasons which remain hidden from us until much later in the film) and attempting to make a place for herself in London high society. She charms a trio of moneyed men (Sanders, John Sutton, and the young and handsome Richard Greene) and sets out to marry the boring but rich Lord Augustus (Hugh Dempster). Lord Windermere (Greene) helps her out socially and financially, and rumors of an affair between the two eventually reach Lady Windermere (Jeanne Crain) thanks to gossipy duchess Martita Hunt. It turns out that Greene has good reasons for helping her out, though the secret is a good one so I won't give it away here. Suffice to say that things climax in a semi-farcical drawing room scene of mistaken identity (and mistaken intentions), and though the movie is a comedy, there is a mood of sad resignation in the way matters ultimately play out. Widean one-liners abound--at least I assume that most of them are drawn from Wilde, even though famed wit Dorothy Parker had a hand in the screenplay. One of my favorites here has Dempster saying, "Sometimes I think I'm married to Mrs. Erlynne, she treats me with such damned indifference!" All the actors are fine, especially Sanders and Hunt, and the relatively lightweight Greene and Crain hold their own nicely. Richard Ney (the soldier son in Mrs. Miniver) and Terry Kilburn (Tiny Tim in the 1938 Christmas Carol) make brief appearances. Wilde purists may quibble (as Noel Coward purists rightfully complain about the bowdlerization of most of his works by Hollywood), but I thought the film was fun. [FMC]

OPEN CITY (1945)

This film by Roberto Rossellini is perhaps the earliest example of Neorealism in film, using a documentary style to tell a fictional story, often about ordinary citizens and sometimes using non-professional actors. Filmed on the streets of Rome not long after the liberation of the city from the Germans, the narrative follows a loosely-knit group of resistance fighters during the height of the war. The stage is set with images of starving people buying food on the black market and breaking into shops. The main character is engineer Manfredi (Marcello Pagliero), who is being chased down by Nazis; he leaves his apartment building and goes to his friend Francesco (Francesco Grandjacquet), who lives next door to his finacee Pina (Anna Magnani), a war widow with one child and another on the way. She fetches the priest Don Pietro (Aldo Fabrizi), who agrees to help Manfredi smuggle money to other resistance fighters. Unfortunately, Manfredi also contacts his lover, Marina (Maria Michi), an aspiring actress (who is also, if I'm reading things correctly, a bisexual and a dope addict) who later, in a fit of anger, informs on Manfredi to icy blond Nazi Ingrid (Giovanna Galetti). On the day of his wedding, Francesco is rounded up by the Gestapo. He eventually escapes, but not before Pina is shot and killed running after him.

Manfredi is captured and tortured by the cruel (and somewhat femme) Major Bergmann (Harry Feist), and it turns out that Manfredi has a secret past: he was an escaped Communist prisoner who had been hiding in plain sight for years. Bergmann is especially anxious to make Manfredi talk because his theory is that the Italians are a slave race and therefore their will should be easy to break, but Manfredi, as most of the captured patriots, is not so easy to crack. A more interesting bad guy is Captain Hartmann (Joop van Hulzen), a self-hating Nazi who thinks that the Germans are sowing death and hatred, and holds out no hope for a bright future for anyone. As you can probably tell, it's not a spoiler to say that almost all the major resistance fighters meet unhappy ends, although the last shot of the film can be interpreted as a hopeful one: a group of children we have seen pulling off minor resistance vandalism throughout the film witness the death of the priest by firing squad, and they walk away, not in resignation but in what seems more like dogged determination to continue their efforts. The acting all around, by pros and amateurs, is solid, with Magnani and Fabrizi standouts. The "realistic" filming style adds immeasurably to the gritty atmosphere of the film, though that style is much more common now. The version I saw on cable clearly wasn't "restored," and there were large chunks of dialogue that went untranslated. This film cries out for a fully loaded Criterion edition. (Sundance)

CARDINAL RICHELIEU (1935)

I end my week of George Arliss films with this somewhat routine period picture that Arliss makes worth catching. I know little about the period or the personalities involved, but that didn't hamper my ability to follow a narrative that was certainly highly fictionalized. In 17th century France, King Louis XIII (Edward Arnold) is butting heads with the feudal lords of France over the consolidation of royal power. Arliss is Richelieu, chief minister of the King's Royal Council (apparently a forerunner to the modern post of Prime Minister), and he gets a good entrance scene: the Queen (Katharine Alexander), certain that Richelieu is far away, locks herself in the King's chamber and tries to convince him that the Cardinal is hungry for power and property and should be dismissed; Richelieu arrives and, despite being barred from the main entrance, uses a secret passageway into the chamber and spoils the Queen's plan. The rest of the film concerns various cat-and-mouse games between the Cardinal and the Queen, the Cardinal and the nobility, the Cardinal and the Pope (who is angry that Richelieu has drafted Protestant soldiers from Sweden to fight against German Catholics), and even the Cardinal and the King. One of the things I ended up liking about the movie is that I was never quite certain who the "good guy" was supposed to be. We are trained by the movies (not to mention by our history) to treat most royals with suspicion, and Arnold plays the king as pompous (though not stupid or evil), but Richelieu, with his army, his lavish personal palace, and the kickbacks he gets from some of the nobles, does not seem to be much more sympathetic. However, Arliss gives a grand performance, especially in a famous scene in which he melodramatically claims the sanctuary of the Church against attackers. There is a light romantic subplot that feels a little out of place involving a ward of the Cardinal's (Maureen O'Sullivan) and one of the angry Lords (Cesar Romero), but it does give Richelieu a more human touch. Douglass Dumbrille plays a chief conspirator, and John Carradine and Arthur Treacher have one-line bits as street agitators. Some fun intrigue between the Cardinal and the King ends the film nicely, but the main reason for seeking this out is to see Arliss. [FMC]

THE WORKING MAN (1933)

Another delightful George Arliss picture, like A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY, in which he plays a sort of "foxy grandpa" type, a gruff-seeming older man who has charm and prankish energy beneath his facade, who usually winds up teaching some young whippersnappers a lesson. In this one, he's the founder of Reeves Shoes, the country's leading shoe company. He is particularly proud of staying ahead of his chief competitor, Hartland Shoes, run by an old friend of his who married the woman that they both loved. Arliss's company is in such good shape that his nephew (Hardie Albright) tries to talk Arliss into retiring and living out the rest of his days fishing in Maine. When Hartland dies and his company falls into the hands of his fast-living son and daughter (Theodore Newton and Bette Davis), who are on the verge of running the company into bankruptcy, Arliss decides to go undercover and try to save the company, out of a sense of loyalty to Hartland and his kids. He puts in a secret bid to buy the company, works his way in as a trustee, and (rather improbably) is also named a quasi-legal guardian to Newton and Davis. In the beginning they like Arliss because he seems easygoing and harmless, but he quickly lays down the laws, cutting out their hard partying and their unrestrained spending, and soon he has them working hard to turn the company around, despite the machinations of the crooked manager (Gordon Westcott). In fact, Davis decides to do some undercover work of her own and, under an assumed name, gets a job at Reeves Shoes in order to learn some skills she can bring back to Hartland. A romance develops between Davis and Albright, which is threatened when Arliss fires Westcott and he comes to Albright to get a job and recognizes Davis. Being a comedy, there are happy endings all around for all who deserve them, though the climax plays out in a hurry. Arliss is great fun in a role he could probably have done in his sleep. Davis is OK, though Albright as an uptight blond boy, and Newton as a mellow blond boy, are a little too low-energy. Westcott makes a fine and slimy villain, J. Farrell MacDonald has a nice scene or two as Arliss' fishing buddy, and Edward Van Sloan shows up as Arliss's assistant. Quite fun all around. [TCM]

THE MAN WHO PLAYED GOD (1932)

A fine old-fashioned (and here I mean that in the best possible way) melodrama which gave Bette Davis her first substantial lead, with George Arliss, who would become her mentor. He plays a renowned concert pianist at the peak of his career who feels his life is ruined when he goes deaf; it's explained that deafness runs in his family, but it seems to come on all at once when an anarchist's bomb explodes right outside his window while he's playing the "Moonlight Sonata" for a European king (whom the anarchists are chasing--don't ask, it's just a creaky plot device). After months of feeling sorry for himself (and keeping most of his friends at a distance) because the joy of his piano has been taken away from him, he is finally persuaded to learn to read lips. He discovers that, with the help of a pair of binoculars, he can read the lips of passers-by outside his window who stroll through Central Park and he takes to "playing God" with them, secretly sending financial help to people who need it. Davis plays a much younger woman, a close friend of Arliss' who was infatuated with him and proposed to him before his deafness occurred. Though she still loves him and seems more than willing to go through with the planned marriage, she has fallen in love with Donald Cook, a man much closer to her own age. By coincidence (!!!), Davis and Cook discuss their situation in the park. Guess who eavesdrops? Guess who winds up stepping gracefully out of the picture so Davis can be happy? Arliss was 65, playing a 50-year-old, and the makeup to make him look younger than his years is obvious, but aside from that, he is quite fine in a part that calls for some over-the-top emoting from time to time. His best scene is when he rages against God for taking away his life's joy, the ability to hear music. Davis is good, although Ivan Simpson, who plays Arliss' stiff but faithful butler, steals most of his scenes; he is especially good when he saves Arliss from an attempted suicide. Cook is the first of a series of actors throughout the next several years who appear opposite Davis and who wind up wiped off the screen, or at best, come off as mannequins (see also George Brent, Richard Barthelmess, Franchot Tone, and Paul Henried). Louise Closser Hale is fine as Arliss' sister and secretary, as is Violet Heming as another admirer of Arliss'. Hedda Hopper and Ray Milland have small roles. Solid melodrama that is a little dated but nonetheless still worth seeing. [TCM]

A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY (1932)

George Arliss seems to have had two primary movie modes: serious historical figure and sly old father (and even his serious roles had a bit of the sly dad in them). This is a delightful comedy with Arliss as the second type; it's a lighter-than-air role, a little like the one he played in THE MILLIONAIRE but even fluffier. He's a rich banker who returns from a year-long stint in Europe, anxious to be fussed over by his loving family. The problem is that they seem to have gotten along quite well without him. His wife (Mary Astor) has completely redone his old and comfortable sitting room in blinding art nouveau and she's so booked up with social obligations, she barely has any time to spend with him. His frivolous children (William Janney and Evalyn Knapp) obviously have affection for their dad, but also have little time for him: idle Janney is always on the polo field and Knapp is preoccupied with her upcoming marriage to clueless fussy pinhead Hardie Albright. To simplify his family life, Arliss pretends that the family fortune has come to ruin, hoping that they'll all have to spend time together (inspired by his butler's remark that "the poor don't get to go out very often"). His plan works; not only do they start spending evenings together, but Janney gets a job and Knapp dumps Albright for hunky polo-player Randolph Scott. Only Astor causes concern when she seems to run out on Arliss with her Italian piano prodigy Fortunio Bonanova, but things aren't always what they seem and a happy ending is in store for all. The most amazing thing about this movie is the comic timing, which seems almost contemporary. I think of Arliss even at the top of his game as a somewhat stagy, old-fashioned actor, but he seems quite modern here, while still having the gravity necessary for the role. Astor, as usual, is good, and Grant Mitchell gets to shine as Arliss's butler; in a nice bit, Arliss winds up spending his free time in his butler's room in his old comfy chair, which Mitchell rescued when Astor threw it in the trash. There's a nice subplot involving a double-crossing businessman (David Torrence) to whom Arliss manages to put the screws. Leon Ames has a small role as an assistant to Arliss. Good fun all around. [TCM]

THE HOUSE OF ROTHSCHILD (1934)

One reason to love the current era of classic movies on cable: the chance to see the work of actors who were well known and well liked in their era but whose popularity hasn't extended to the present day. This week, I'm going to devote some blog posts to the films of George Arliss, a British stage actor who had a short but successful film career in the 1930's. His main claim to fame was playing historical figures--he won one of the first Best Actor Oscars back in 1930 for DISRAELI, a movie I haven't been able to see yet. Arliss' films are unlikely to wind up released in DVD boxed sets, like the movies of Bogart or Astaire or Bette Davis, but they do show up occasionally on Turner Classic and Fox Movie Channel. Leonard Maltin says that Arliss is a fine actor "in sore need of rediscovery," and I agree. In the past, I've reviewed THE MILLIONAIRE and THE GREEN GODDESS, both good movies, and this week, I'll review a few more I've been lucky enough to see.

In this historical family story, Arliss plays the dual role of Mayer Rothschild, founder in the 1790's of the famous banking house, and Nathan, his son. Though much of the narrative is concerned with the pervasive anti-Semitism of the time and place, the movie also traffics in some unfortunate Jewish stereotypes which may undercut that theme with today's viewers. In the short, atmospheric opening section of the film, we see Meyer, a coin dealer and money lender living in the Jewish ghetto in Frankfurt, hiding caches of money from the tax collector. He tells his children that, because money lending is one of the only occupations open to Jews, money is the only defense against the combative Gentile society (the Jews are forced to live on one street and are locked in their homes at night). He starts his sons in banking and tells them to spread out to various cities to stop the loss of money transfers through war and banditry. Thirty years later, the story is picked up with Arliss as Nathan, the eldest son, who is established in London and makes important loans to the British and their allies in their wars against Napoleon. After Wellington (C. Aubrey Smith) defeats Napoleon, Arliss suggests loaning money to France to rebuild. His suggestion is approved, but his bid for making the loan is rejected due to the anti-Semitic Count Ledrantz (Boris Karloff, miles away from his Frankenstein monster and quite good as the outwardly civilized villain). Arliss gets his revenge by driving down the price of the bonds, and he finally gets the bid, but Karloff gets his own revenge by inciting a series of pogroms in Prussia. When Napoleon escapes from exile, the advantage goes back to Arliss when the allies need his money again. Despite an offer from Napoleon asking for money in exchange for freedom for the Jews, Arliss goes with the allies and the film ends with the defeats of both Napoleon and Karloff. Despite the historical sweep of the narrative, the film is fairly stagy with lots of talky scenes (we see no war action and never meet Napoleon), though thanks to good acting and pacing, it rarely feels static. There is a more or less unnecessary romantic subplot with Arliss' daughter, Loretta Young, in love with a Gentile soldier (Robert Young). The two Youngs are bland and unwelcome as they take screen time away from Karloff and the wonderful Arliss. Also notable are Helen Westley (as Meyer's wife), Reginald Owen, and Arthur Byron. Arliss' real-life wife Florence plays Nathan's wife, though she doesn't have much to do. The film plays fast and loose with history, but that's a given with Hollywood. Quite enjoyable, and Arliss commands the screen as usual. [FMC]

JOHNNY APOLLO (1940)

A dysfunctional father-son story, disguised as a gangster movie. Tyrone Power is the privileged son of rich businessman Edward Arnold. When Arnold is indicted for embezzlement and sent to jail, Power drops out of his Ivy League college out of embarrassment. Power tells his father off and Arnold disowns him (figuratively, if not literally, by saying he'll never give his son another thought as long as he lives). Power tries to get a job, but finds his family name a disadvantage. A year later, when a big shot gangster (Lloyd Nolan) who went to jail the same time as Arnold gets out ahead of schedule, Power goes to Nolan's shyster lawyer (Charley Grapewin) for help getting Arnold out, but instead Power winds up working for Nolan, under the ridiculous fake name of Johnny Apollo. Power and Arnold start to reconcile, but when Arnold finds out that Power is working for a thug and a shyster, he disowns his son a second time. Dorothy Lamour is a nightclub singer who hangs with the bad guys; she and Power take a shine to each other. Grapewin decides to turn a new leaf and rat on Nolan, making a deal with the cops that will let Power off the hook for any shady activity, but after Nolan kills Grapewin, both he and Power are both sent to prison, of course, the same prison where Arnold is being kept. Lamour pleads with Arnold to take his son back, and the exciting finale involves an attempted escape which goes awry. Unfortunately, a weak happy coda ends the movie on a false note. All the actors are fine, with Lamour showing more depth than she is able to in the "Road" movies that she is remembered for. She even gets a glitzy little musical number, "Dancing for Nickels and Dimes." Grapewin is also able to flesh out his character more than usual, and Lionel Atwill and Marc Lawrence are both fine in smaller roles. Nolan is realistically nasty and charming in turn, and Power manages to come off as more than just a callow spoiled youth (and it doesn't hurt that we get to see Power's physique early on when he's participating in a college rowing meet). Arnold is especially good at making a potentially cardboard character rounder and more sympathetic than he might have been. [FMC]

THE GANG'S ALL HERE (1943)

Perhaps because it's been difficult to see over the last several years, this Technicolor Busby Berkeley musical from 20th Century Fox has gained a spectacular reputation that it can't quite live up to. It's essentially a cross between two musical "subgenres": the musical numbers are revamps of the kinds of numbers that Berkeley choreographed for Warners in the 30's (primarily in the Gold Diggers series), and the narrative framework (built around a stymied showbiz romance usually involving mistaken identity) is taken from the Fox musicals of the 40's which featured players such as Betty Grable and John Payne; the novelty of color does seem to inspire Berkeley to ever higher flights of fancy and makes the song and dance routines worth seeing, but the plotline and acting are just average. The story focuses on soldier James Ellison, in New York on leave, who meets singer Alice Faye at the fancy Club New Yorker. He follows her to the Broadway Canteen, one of those wartime clubs set up just for servicemen. She's not supposed to leave the club with any soldiers, but he arranges a meeting later that night and soon they're in love but are forced to part when Ellison's leave ends. Months later, he returns to Faye a hero, but she finds out that he's been engaged for years to a socialite (Sheila Ryan); how will the triangle be resolved? There is more to the plot, mostly some folderol about the Club New Yorker folks rehearsing a huge new show at the country estate of Ryan's rich family, but it's all secondary to the colorful musical numbers, none of which could ever fit inside a real nightclub, including Carmen Miranda's legendary "Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat," which involves the biggest, most phallic bananas one could imagine. Benny Goodman looks very uncomfortable singing "Minnie's in the Money" directly to the camera, Charlotte Greenwood gets one of her traditional high-kicking dances in, and the final number, "The Polka Dot Polka," is spectacular. Ellison's slicked-back hair makes him unappealing, but Faye is quite lovely, and does a fine job in a fairly thankless role. Edward Everett Horton and Eugene Pallette do variations on their usual roles as fussy sidekick and gravelly-voiced grumbler, and entertainers Phil Baker and Tony DeMarco appear as themselves. A couple of amusing lines: Faye saying to Ellison, "Stop acting like Don Ameche and get me a taxi," and Miranda on seeing off a sailor: "It's nice work if you can get him." The movie is worth seeing for the campily excessive dance sequences, but don't believe the hype. [FMC]

CONFESSIONS OF BOSTON BLACKIE (1941)
BOSTON BLACKIE'S RENDEZVOUS (1945)

In the 1940's, it seems like every detective who had his own movie series (the Falcon, the Saint, the Lone Wolf) was a reformed thief. Boston Blackie (played by Chester Morris) was no different. These are two of the 14 hour-long B-budget programmers in which Morris appeared, and like many second-feature films of the era, they play out like episodes of a TV series. Neither film is really a whodunit because we know that from the start. In CONFESSIONS, the second in the series, Harriet Hilliard (later to be Harriet Nelson of "Ozzie and Harriet" fame) is a woman in desperate need of cash for her sickly brother, so she agrees to auction off a valuable statue of the emperor Augustus through art broker Walter Soderling. However, we know that Soderling has a tidy little side business producing art forgeries in a secret, high security basement room. He and his cronies plan to sell the fake and keep the real one. However, at the auction, which is attended by Hilliard, Morris, and his eccentric millionaire friend Manleder (Lloyd Corrigan), Hilliard notices that the statue is fake. One of the thugs takes a shot at her to shut her up, but the bullet hits and kills Soderling. Morris pulls his gun as well, so the cops arrest him for murder, but their case gets a little shaky when the corpse vanishes (the cronies stuff in into the fake statue through a false back). Morris escapes, Inspector Farraday (Richard Lane) becomes a laughing stock, Hilliard, who was wounded in the shooting, still needs money, and Corrigan buys the fake statue for a lark. The rest of the movie is a fast-paced series of chases, traps, and escapes, as Morris tries to help Hilliard and clear his own name, while the crooks try to get the fake statue back. Everyone winds up trapped in the basement studio for the climax, with some nice fisticuffs, thrilling gunplay, and a potentially deadly fire. There's even room for a comic subplot involving an old flame of Morris's (Joan Woodbury) who tries to extort some money out of him--the best scene in the movie may well be when she goes on a furniture-smashing rampage in his apartment. Morris, one of my favorite 30's leading men who by this time had fallen from Hollywood's A-list, is appropriately light and breezy and the rest of the cast is OK, though distinctly second-string, even George E. Stone as Morris's comic sidekick The Runt (I was wishing for someone like Frank McHugh or Allen Jenkins). Still, a very enjoyable hour balanced out nicely with humor and action.

RENDEZVOUS is the ninth Boston Blackie film and, though it has its light moments, it is more intense with a more modern feel. In this one Corrigan gets Morris involved in a search for his nephew (Steve Cochran) who has escaped from an insane asylum and may have homicidal intentions. When Morris meets up with him, Cochran claims that he's not crazy, but that he's about to come into an inheritance and his relatives want him locked up and out of the way. Of course, we can tell from the look in his eyes that he's lying, and sure enough, in short order, Cochran strangles Morris (just enough to knock him out) and goes on a killing spree, using Morris's identity, which naturally gets the police involved. Morris has to stay out of the clutches of the law and protect Sally Brown (Nina Foch), a dance hall girl with whom Cochran is infatuated. Mistaken identities drive the rest of the plot, as Foch thinks Morris is the killer, and thinks the killer, who can be quite rational and charming, is Boston Blackie. The finale, a tense confrontation between Cochran and Foch, is the best scene in the movie. The comic interludes don't mesh with the rest of the film, especially an uncomfortable scene in which Morris and sidekick Stone dress up in blackface as hotel maids. Morris does get to do a magic trick or two--magic was one of Morris's hobbies. The best comic bits belong to Iris Adrian as Foch's roommate, a brassy hat check girl. The very handsome Cochran does a great job as the killer, and is about the only cast member who doesn't seem like he knows he's stuck in a B-movie. These movies aren't classics, but they're fun, and better than much of what passes for thrillers on TV these days. [TV]

THE AFFAIRS OF CELLINI (1934)

This film begins with the trappings of a historical period piece, and indeed the title character really did live in 16th century Italy and was a goldsmith with ties to royalty. But it becomes clear very quickly that this isn't history at all, but an antic bedroom farce in which everyone gets to wear fabulous costumes and prance about on elaborate sets. As such, it works rather well, and the fact that it was released just before the restrictive Production Code went into effect allows it to sneak in some bawdy implications that would have been censored just months later. Fredric March plays goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini, whose scandalous ways have him constantly hiding from the law, or from jealous husbands, or both. The Duke of Florence (Frank Morgan), a member of the powerful Medici family, is after his hide, but March manages to buy some time for two reasons: 1) he is completing a set of gold dishes for the Duke, and 2) the Duchess (Constance Bennett) takes a liking to him. The love triangle is turned into a rectangle by March's young and lovely model (Fay Wray), with whom March has been dallying and to whom Morgan takes a shine. There are many scenes of loving and fighting and escaping, and the highlight of the film is a traditional door-slamming bedroom sequence in which Bennett pushes March out on a balcony so Morgan won't find him, while at the same time, Morgan has pushed Wray out on the same balcony; of course, March and Wray run off together to what March calls his "mountain hideaway," but which is really a smelly old barn. Another complication is Louis Calhern, a member of the court who is out for March's blood, and he becomes a key player in the finale in which a poisoned cup of wine decides the fates of our assorted lovers. The action bogs down just a bit in the middle, though the movie wraps up too quickly. Otherwise, if you're in the mood for a rollicking 30's farce, this will do the trick. Also in the cast are Jessie Ralph as Wray's mother who has a goat-like beard which is good for a couple of jokes, and Vince Barnett as March's dopey sidekick. Lucille Ball has a bit part as a lady in waiting, but I didn't catch her. March, in tights and a goatee, is more handsome and dashing than I've ever seen him; Bennett's not bad at being haughty, but I didn't think she was always able to keep up with the farcical pace. Some viewers really don't like Morgan as the Duke, doing the same befuddled shtick he almost always does so he never disappears into his character, but subtlety of characterization is hardly the point here and I eventually warmed to him. [FMC]

LES DAMES DU BOIS DE BOULOGNE (1945)

An early Robert Bresson film, quite unlike anything else of his that I've seen (DIARY OF A COUNTRY PRIEST, LANCELOT OF THE LAKE). It's a brittle, dark story of romance and revenge that for the most part seems quite contemporary, with a feel of something like DANGEROUS LIASONS. When rich Helene (Maria Casares) hints to her long-time lover Jean (Paul Bernard) that she has gotten bored with their relationship, she is shocked when he says that he has too, and suggests that they part, at least temporarily. Helene, furious, arranges for Jean to get interested in showgirl Agnes (Elina Labourdette), an old acquaintance from the country who has turned to an unsavory lifestyle (dancing for groups of men in her room, and worse, I'm sure!) to keep herself and her mother afloat. Helene arranges for Agnes and her mother to be secluded in a small and drab apartment (I assume so she will not be tempted back to her old profession) and then proceeds to engineer a meeting with Jean, pushing the two together by seeming to be keeping them apart. Jean is unaware of Agnes' background and the two go through a tentative courtship until he becomes obsessed with her and she finally agrees to marry him. At the wedding party, Helene strikes the final blow by telling Jean that Agnes is a whore. He is shocked, Agnes faints, and Helene drives away in triumph, but a fairly unrealistic "happy" ending which feels like it was tacked on drains the story of some of its power. Nevertheless, this is one you shouldn't miss, and the main reason is the performance of Maria Caseres, who is both icy cold and red hot as the vengeful woman on a mission to destroy two lives (three if you count Agnes's mother). The movie's look is stark and dark, though not really in a film noir fashion, although I can imagine this being done as a Hollywood melodrama in the same era with Joan Crawford tossing Zachary Scott to some slutty supporting starlet (Martha Vickers in THE BIG SLEEP, perhaps?). The only problem here is that what we see of Agnes's shady past consists mostly of vigorous dancing, and after she is "saved" by Helene, she reverts to some rural virgin type, so we have to fill in the gaps (as in a Hollywood movie of the same era) to figure out why she is so ashamed of herself. There's a scene in which Agnes dances around the small apartment like Ann Miller in YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU which I guess is supposed to make us think that she is missing her chorus girl/hooker days, but it's an odd scene anyway. Otherwise, I highly recommend this. [DVD]

RAFFLES (1939)

The title of this comic crime adventure refers to A.J. Raffles (David Niven), the creation of British writer E.W. Hornung. This was the fourth film based on his exploits and apparently it's a scene-by-scene remake of the 1930 version with Ronald Colman. Raffles is, to all appearances, a charming high society cricket player, but on the side, he is also a jewel thief known to Scotland Yard and the public as the Amateur Cracksman. It is implied that he's something of a Robin Hood when he sends one stolen necklace to an aging actress he admires so she can turn it in for a sizeable reward, but otherwise we don't get much information about his life, other than that he's widely admired for his athletic ability, and only his butler (E.E. Clive) knows about his double life. Niven meets Olivia de Havilland, the sister of his friend Bunny (Douglas Walton), and they hit it off, so much so that he decides to go straight and returns the last batch of jewels he stole (in a clever ruse involving a cute little stray kitten as a decoy). However, when he attends a country house party to be near de Havilland, he also decides to pull off one last job as a way of helping Walton out of a gambling debt. Unbeknownst to him, there is another burglar (Peter Godfrey) in the house who, with some help from the family maid, has an inside track on getting the jewels. A comedy of errors follows in which Godfrey snatches them, then Niven snatches them from Godfrey, and we're never sure who has what because there is also a fake set floating around. In the end, Niven gallantly gives himself up to the Scotland Yard inspector (Dudley Digges) so he'll have a clean slate to start from when he gets out of jail and marries de Havilland. In the pre-Code 1930 version, Raffles gets away scot free, and the Code-imposed ending does hurt the film's fluffy tone, but generally this works well thanks almost completely to the charming Niven, who is a perfect fit for the role. Dame May Whitty is fun in the small role of the woman who throws the house party. Nothing special, but pleasant enough. [TCM]

TROUBLE FOR TWO (1936)

Based on a trilogy of stories by Robert Louis Stevenson, this minor adventure/romance with a slightly dark edge (which would certainly be exploited more fully if it were made today) doesn't quite live up to its potential but is nevertheless a decent vehicle for its stars, Robert Montgomery and Rosalind Russell. Montgomery is a frivolous playboy prince who is happy that his long-arranged marriage to a foreign princess has been canceled. We learn there are anarchists who have recently been ousted from the country but who may be in hiding and who are after the prince, so the king sends him to London on a vacation with army colonel Frank Morgan. On board, he is captivated by a mysterious lady (Russell) who says she's being pursued and asks for his help in smuggling some secrets off the ship; Montgomery is happy to help, but when they land, he finds that she has vanished and that the secrets are just a bundle of blank sheets of paper. Looking for a little diversion in town, he discovers the existence of a Suicide Club, where people who are tired of living pay stiff fees to be part of a nightly drawing of cards: one person is chosen to be the killer and one is chosen to be killed. The murder then occurs in the next 24 hours. Apparently thinking it would be a nice adventure, Montgomery joins up and sees Russell among the group. Eventually she is chosen to be his executioner and the plot takes a number of twists, some predictable, some not, on the way to a fairly exciting finale. At 75 minutes, it feels a bit rushed by the end; a little more time for the plot to play out would have allowed for better character development. Russell, an actor who was generally only as good as her material, is good here, as is her leading man. Reginald Owen, in a bald head cap and looking like the Scrooge he was for MGM a couple of years later, is fine as the villainous head of the Suicide Club, and Louis Hayward shines in a small but important role which is billed as "Young Man with Cream Tarts." There is a brief but amusing bit involving a dog on trial for murder. [TCM]

SUEZ (1938)

This is a decent example of what passed for a historical epic in Hollywood before GONE WITH THE WIND changed the rules. It's a fictional biography of Ferdinand de Lesseps, engineer and builder of the Suez Canal (and who later was in on the beginnings of the Panama Canal, though that's not covered here). The film starts in 1850 in Paris with Tyrone Power as de Lesseps, the son of diplomat Henry Stephenson, leading a carefree life playing exhibition tennis and romancing Loretta Young, who herself is being admired from afar by Louis Napoleon (Leon Ames), the president of France (though because he is related to the tyrannical Bonaparte, the fear that Ames might shut down the government and claim himself Emperor becomes a plot point). When Power is called to Egypt by his father, he asks Young to marry him but she won't commit. Once in Egypt, he meets the somewhat tomboyish Annabella while she's skinny dipping; soon she has fallen in love with him, though he seems to think of her more as a little sister. After a storm, while admiring a rainbow, Power has the idea to build a canal that would connect the Red and Mediterranean Seas, and the rest of the film details his long struggle to bring the project to fruition, mostly involving jumping a number of political hurdles involving the French, the British, and the Arabs. At one point, Power finagles Ames into backing his plan by agreeing to get the Assembly to disband temporarily, but when Ames double-crosses Power and begins arresting the Assembly members, all of Power's friends think that Power has betrayed them for the Canal. The building of the Canal takes years, slowed by political reversals and deliberate sabotage, but the main set piece of the film is a spectacular dust storm in which Annabella sacrifices her life to save Power by tying him to a post as the wind blows virtually everything else away. After this sequence, the film rushes to an end with the eventual completion of the canal and a ceremony in which Power is given a medal by Young, now the wife of Ames. Apparently little of this is accurate, but the story is entertaining enough and Power makes a good leading man. J. Edward Bromberg plays an Arabian prince, Nigel Bruce does his usual befuddled persona as a pompous admirer of Young's, and other standouts of the large supporting cast include Joseph Schildkraut, Sig Ruman, and George Zucco. [FMC]

THE CARDINAL (1963)

A big Hollywood epic which always looks wonderful but occasionally gets bogged down by overstuffed narrative and underwritten characters. Tom Tryon plays the title character; the film opens and closes with a middle-aged Tryon being made Cardinal in Rome just before the outbreak of WWII, with the rest of the movie consisting of chronologically-ordered flashbacks through his life. We see him in his first parish in his hometown of Boston until his cardinal (John Huston), thinking that Tryon is too ambitious, reassigns him to a rural town to work under ailing pastor Burgess Meredith. After proving his mettle, Tryon is hired as a secretary by Huston and eventually the two go to Rome where Huston wrangles a Vatican appointment for Tryon. However, Tryon is undergoing a crisis of faith and decides instead to take a leave of absence. After the intermission, we catch up with him as a teacher in Vienna who is briefly tempted by Romy Schneider, but instead his priestly calling is reinforced. He gets a Vatican job, travels back to the U.S. to help a black pastor (Ossie Davis) fight the Ku Klux Klan, then upon his return to Vienna, he tries to motivate the local cardinal (Josef Meinrad) to stand up against the Nazis. The episodic nature of the story isn't automatically a bad thing, but the real problem is that the episodes are underdeveloped and we rarely see evidence of how Tryon learns his various lessons. The midpoint crisis is especially murky, as is its resolution. His earliest and most concrete crisis, and the one that sticks with him the longest, involves his sister (Carol Lynley) who wants to marry her Jewish boyfriend (John Saxon). At first, Saxon agrees to convert to Catholicism, but then backs out. Lynley confesses (literally, in the confessional) to Tryon that she's slept with her boyfriend and after Tryon refuses to give her the advice she wants to hear, Saxon goes to war and Lynley winds up doing an vaudeville tango act with a slimy guy who gets her pregnant and offers to pay for an abortion. She chooses to have the child, but complications lead to her doctor suggesting she have a partial-birth abortion to save her own life. Tryon won't give his permission for the procedure, so Lynley dies (though the baby grows up to be raised by her parents--and when we see her briefly as a grown-up, she's played by Lynley). This becomes a sore point for Tryon, who feels responsible for her death, and this seems to be the reason for his crisis of faith, but it's never that clear.

Tryon's performance is often knocked as too wooden, but I think the problem is more in the writing. Like Tyrone Power in THE RAZOR'S EDGE, Tryon is mostly a passive center in the whirlwind of personal events and history surrounding him. Though he's on screen almost constantly, we never really feel like we know him. We also rarely see him use his priestly skills, so the reasons for his rapid rise through the church hierarchy are beyond us. Meredith gets praise from the critics, but he has very little to do but lie in bed and die--for a while, I thought Tryon might borrow a trick from Bing Crosby in GOING MY WAY and cure Burgess with a glass of whiskey and an Irish lullaby. Supporting standouts include Murray Hamilton as a Klan member who has a change of heart, Raf Vallone as a Vatican good guy, Cecil Kellaway as Tryon's first monsignor, and Maggie McNamera and Bill Hayes as Tryon's other siblings. Poor Robert Morse has a ridiculous vaudeville number thrown in for no clear purpose. The movie is beautifully shot by Leon Shamroy and the location settings are used effectively. The last half of the movie, particularly the Nazi segment, does have some power and momentum, but at three hours, it's not a movie for an impatient audience. [DVD]

BORN YESTERDAY (1950)

I've seen most of the Hollywood movies that have entered the canon of Classic Movies, but this is one that other classic movie buffs are always surprised to learn I haven't seen. I didn't actively avoid it, but I never felt compelled to search it out, despite it being the main claim to fame for Judy Holliday, who has become a near-legend largely on the basis of this one film (and her untimely death of cancer at 43 after having starring roles in only seven movies). As Billie Dawn, the mistress of a rich but crude businessman (Broderick Crawford, who plays the role as though he was a gangster who accidentally wound up with in a legitimate business), Holliday epitomized the indelible "dumb blonde" stereotype that permeates popular culture--she certainly got there before Marilyn Monroe, and Jean Hagen is practically channeling Holliday in SINGIN' IN THE RAIN. Crawford is in Washington to do some under-the-counter wheeling and dealing; both he and Holliday are loud, obnoxious, and on the dumb side, but Crawford only sees those faults in Holliday, so he hires a reporter (William Holden) to "make a lady" out of her. Holden embarks on a mission to refine and educate Holliday and ends up showing her that she deserves better than Crawford; along the way he falls in love with her. She catches on quickly and reciprocates Holden's affections, and the two end up giving a bit of an education to Crawford. The film is based on a hit play and it does feel stagy, with very little of the action taking place outside of Crawford's hotel suite except for a couple of brief shots of Holden squiring Holliday around Washington tourist attractions. The acting all around is good, and I was especially impressed with Howard St. John as Crawford's lawyer, who doesn't like Crawford or the underhanded deals he gets involved in, but realizes it's too late for him to get out of his profession. The plot makes an interesting and explicit parallel between political and personal fascism, but it could stand some more development. Holden and Holliday, though both fine in their roles, don't really have a lot of chemistry as a romantic pair, and I can't imagine their characters staying together much past the final fadeout. [TCM]

TARNISHED ANGEL (1938)

Intermittently interesting B-melodrama which on the surface resembles Barbara Stanwyck's earlier THE MIRACLE WOMAN. The plot of this one actually has more potential, but the low budget and limited resources of the actors don't allow it to come to fruition. Sally Eilers stars as a chorus girl working as a hostess in a gambling club; we see her scamming boozing businessman Cecil Kellaway so he'll keep buying drinks and spending money at the tables. She also seems to be involved with the gangsterish club owner (Robert Gleckler), though the extent of her involvement is unclear. Lee Bowman is the rich man she left at the altar (we find out later that she did it at the request of Bowman's father); he's taken to drinking to forget the hurt. Ann Miller is Eilers' buddy, a singer at the club; Paul Guilfoyle, a bouncer, is Miller's boyfriend. When the club gets raided, Eilers, Miller, and Guilfoyle look for other jobs but are blacklisted by the law (Jonathan Hale is the obsessed cop who seems to spend all his time dogging them from city to city; rejected suitor Bowman also follows her around). The trio wind up partaking of free coffee and donuts at a Salvation Army-style storefront, and Eilers gets the bright idea of becoming a faith-healing evangelist, using planted fake cripples in the audience to cure. She's very successful and when Hale threatens to blow their cover, she admits to her sordid past, which gets her more publicity and makes her even more successful. Eilers gets on the good side of rich widow Alma Kruger who wants her to take over the running of a children's charity hospital, and Eilers is suddenly torn between doing good and keeping up the scam. The finale involves a attempted theft of Kruger's jewels, and a real cripple who finds himself cured by Eilers, making her question her entire situation. Eilers, who played mostly supporting roles in the mid-1930's, is good here, particularly when she adopts her husky-voiced evangelist persona. Miller and Guilfoyle provide strong support, but Bowman is saddled with a nothing role and he can't do much with it. Miller, in the days before she became an MGM musicals regular, gets one song and dance number, "It's the Doctor's Orders," which is unmemorable except when it rhymes "coma" with "diploma." [TCM]