RIDERS TO THE STARS (1954)
Even though today's viewers will chuckle at the science promulgated here, and despite some pretty bad FX, this is generally a rather charming relic from fairly early in Hollywood's Space Age era when movies were being made that tried to take a realistic look at space travel, rather than recycle the Flash Gordon antics of the 30's and 40's. American scientists (led by Herbert Marshall) are trying to figure out why meteorites resist the gamma rays that would destroy their spacecraft. A computerized nationwide hunt is conducted (seemingly only among white men) for possible astronauts and most of the first half of the film shows how a group of twelve gets winnowed down, through a series of physical and psychological tests, to three, including electronics researcher William Lundigan (who happens to be Marshall's son) and science professor Richard Carlson. The point is made that the men chosen can't be married, though Carlson is dating a model (Dawn Addams) and Lundigan flirts with one of the space scientists (Martha Hyer). All three men are launched in separate rockets and each one is supposed to snare a meteorite to be studied back on earth. Robert Karnes is the first to die, in a particularly gruesome scene--fried by cosmic rays into a skeleton inside his space suit. Of the other two, one freaks out and one returns to earth with a meteorite, to the arms of his loving woman. The film's middle section is a little slow moving, but it builds to a tense climax that is quite good, given the era and the low budget (though the shots of the meteorites flying at the rockets seem painfully amateurish now). The two leading men are fine, though I think they should have switched roles; Lundigan is a little too laid back and the more dynamic Carlson feels restrained here (though since Carlson also directed, I'm guessing he got the effect he wanted). James Best, known primarily as Sheriff Roscoe in "The Dukes of Hazzard," makes a handsome would-be astronaut. The print shown on Turner Classic had a few ragged spots but strong color. I've saved the best for last: though the film's serious tone still holds up, the title song is a fabulous camp moment (and I wish I could find it on iTunes). The lush cocktail-lounge theme music recurs here and there and always took me out of the action for a giggly moment. Sample lyric: "Riders to the stars / That is what we are / Every time we kiss in the night / Jupiter and Mars / Aren't very far / Any time you're holding me tight / Your embrace / Changed time and place / Hurled in space are we..." Once again, I love you, Turner Classic Movies!! [TCM]
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
GEORGE WHITE'S 1935 SCANDALS (1935)
George White was, like Florenz Ziegfeld, a well-known producer of vaudeville shows and Broadway revues. He produced and appeared in three movies, all titled George White's Scandals, all apparently run-of-the-mill backstage musicals with several production numbers. In this one, White wraps up the successful 1934 show and takes a train to Florida for a vacation, but during a stop in Georgia, he sees a poster for a local show called Elmer White's Scandals and, for kicks, decides to stay and check it out. Ned Sparks does a nice turn as Elmer, dour, deadpan jack of all trades--not only is he the producer, he's also the ticket seller, ticket taker, usher, stage door keeper, and MC. White is impressed with the lead singer, Alice Faye, and offers her a job on Broadway. She goes, bringing along James Dunn, her boyfriend and songwriter, ukulele player Cliff Edwards, and even Sparks. They all find success in the next edition of the Scandals, but romantic problems intrude; Faye steps out with rival producer Walter Johnson, and Dunn retaliates by flirting with star dancer Eleanor Powell. Their personal conflicts begin to take a toll on their performances and White fires Faye and Dunn who are forced to scrounge for any showbiz jobs they can get. When Faye's dear old Aunt Jane (Emma Dunn) visits the Big Apple to see them on stage, White shows he has a heart of gold as big as a hooker's when he tries to find the couple and get them back in the Scandals just for Aunt Jane. Despite a wildly implausible ending, the show is fun thanks to the numbers and to Sparks and Edwards strong support. Songs include "The Hunkadola," "It's an Old Southern Custom," and "According to the Moonlight," which was so catchy I found myself humming it for a few days (probably because it's performed several times in the course of the film). Also featured are Lyda Roberti, Arline Judge, and Benny Rubin. Fun to see once, but I probably don't need to search out the other two "Scandals" movies. [FMC]
George White was, like Florenz Ziegfeld, a well-known producer of vaudeville shows and Broadway revues. He produced and appeared in three movies, all titled George White's Scandals, all apparently run-of-the-mill backstage musicals with several production numbers. In this one, White wraps up the successful 1934 show and takes a train to Florida for a vacation, but during a stop in Georgia, he sees a poster for a local show called Elmer White's Scandals and, for kicks, decides to stay and check it out. Ned Sparks does a nice turn as Elmer, dour, deadpan jack of all trades--not only is he the producer, he's also the ticket seller, ticket taker, usher, stage door keeper, and MC. White is impressed with the lead singer, Alice Faye, and offers her a job on Broadway. She goes, bringing along James Dunn, her boyfriend and songwriter, ukulele player Cliff Edwards, and even Sparks. They all find success in the next edition of the Scandals, but romantic problems intrude; Faye steps out with rival producer Walter Johnson, and Dunn retaliates by flirting with star dancer Eleanor Powell. Their personal conflicts begin to take a toll on their performances and White fires Faye and Dunn who are forced to scrounge for any showbiz jobs they can get. When Faye's dear old Aunt Jane (Emma Dunn) visits the Big Apple to see them on stage, White shows he has a heart of gold as big as a hooker's when he tries to find the couple and get them back in the Scandals just for Aunt Jane. Despite a wildly implausible ending, the show is fun thanks to the numbers and to Sparks and Edwards strong support. Songs include "The Hunkadola," "It's an Old Southern Custom," and "According to the Moonlight," which was so catchy I found myself humming it for a few days (probably because it's performed several times in the course of the film). Also featured are Lyda Roberti, Arline Judge, and Benny Rubin. Fun to see once, but I probably don't need to search out the other two "Scandals" movies. [FMC]
Friday, February 23, 2007
MURDER AT MIDNIGHT (1931)
The set-up of this early sound Poverty Row thriller seemed very familiar to me, and I realized later it's because the same story was adapted several years later for another Poverty Row film featuring Boris Karloff as Chinese sleuth Mr. Wong (THE MYSTERY OF MR. WONG). In the atmospheric opening, we see a butler enter a darkened room and turn a clock's hands ahead to midnight. Next, we see a man arrive to have a rendezvous with a married woman (Aileen Pringle), but the wronged husband (Kenneth Thompson) discovers them and shoots the intruder dead. Then the camera pans back and we see that the entire thing has been an elaborate charade performed at a party. However, it turns out that the gun had real bullets, and the "intruder" is dead. A noted criminologist (Hale Hamilton, who looks a bit like Robert Benchley) is present, which helps sooth nervous Aunt Julia (Clara Blandick) and when police inspector Robert Elliott arrives, there's quite a large suspect pool, not to mention a second murder victim, the husband. Among the characters: a lawyer who reveals that Thompson had written a new will in which he disinherited his wife, a snoopy maid (Alice White) who surely knows more than she lets on, the widow, her brother (Leslie Fenton) who lives off an allowance from her, and of course, the omnipresent butler. The rewritten will and an important letter go missing and several more people wind up dead, some by way of a rigged telephone which jabs the caller in the base of the neck with a poisoned needle. The identity of the killer came as a surprise to me, and the conclusion, in which the police inspector allows the killer to commit suicide, is effective (and, I think, right out of a Philo Vance novel, "The Bishop Murder Case"). As is par for the course at the time, most of the shots are long static ones, but there are some nice creative set-ups, including one shot looking up from the floor near a body and another showing a murder from the killer's point of view. Not bad B-movie entertainment for a stormy (or snowy) night. [DVD]
The set-up of this early sound Poverty Row thriller seemed very familiar to me, and I realized later it's because the same story was adapted several years later for another Poverty Row film featuring Boris Karloff as Chinese sleuth Mr. Wong (THE MYSTERY OF MR. WONG). In the atmospheric opening, we see a butler enter a darkened room and turn a clock's hands ahead to midnight. Next, we see a man arrive to have a rendezvous with a married woman (Aileen Pringle), but the wronged husband (Kenneth Thompson) discovers them and shoots the intruder dead. Then the camera pans back and we see that the entire thing has been an elaborate charade performed at a party. However, it turns out that the gun had real bullets, and the "intruder" is dead. A noted criminologist (Hale Hamilton, who looks a bit like Robert Benchley) is present, which helps sooth nervous Aunt Julia (Clara Blandick) and when police inspector Robert Elliott arrives, there's quite a large suspect pool, not to mention a second murder victim, the husband. Among the characters: a lawyer who reveals that Thompson had written a new will in which he disinherited his wife, a snoopy maid (Alice White) who surely knows more than she lets on, the widow, her brother (Leslie Fenton) who lives off an allowance from her, and of course, the omnipresent butler. The rewritten will and an important letter go missing and several more people wind up dead, some by way of a rigged telephone which jabs the caller in the base of the neck with a poisoned needle. The identity of the killer came as a surprise to me, and the conclusion, in which the police inspector allows the killer to commit suicide, is effective (and, I think, right out of a Philo Vance novel, "The Bishop Murder Case"). As is par for the course at the time, most of the shots are long static ones, but there are some nice creative set-ups, including one shot looking up from the floor near a body and another showing a murder from the killer's point of view. Not bad B-movie entertainment for a stormy (or snowy) night. [DVD]
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
PETULIA (1968)
Although on the surface this seems like a 60's period piece, with hippies and violence and mod clothes and critiques of materialism and alienation, not to mention a fractured narrative style with flashbacks and flash-forwards, it's really barely dated at all. The psychedelic trappings of the era which might most obviously date the film remain in the background; the main characters here mostly look and act like people living in the 21st century. This was my second viewing of the film, and it's a movie I appreciate more than like. It begins like a surreal screwball comedy with oddly mannered dialogue, as if someone like Edward Albee had re-written BRINGING UP BABY. At a high society charity function (with Janis Joplin performing), respected surgeon George C. Scott, attending stag due to his impending divorce, is set upon by desperately whimsical beauty Julie Christie, the title character, who is unhappily married to ship architect Richard Chamberlain. Christie goes after Scott rather like Hepburn goes after Grant in BABY, but Scott is a little more able to keep his equilibrium. After the ball, he does wind up going off into the night with her but despite going to a hotel, they don't quite finish their one-night stand--she, as he puts her in a cab: "I'm going to marry you, Archie"; he, resignedly, "It's the Pepsi generation." After this bumpy start, they do begin an affair in which, we assume, she will loosen him up a bit and he will perhaps normalize her a bit (at one point, he says he's tired of her "I Love Lucy" antics), but things take a turn for the near-tragic as we learn more about their backgrounds. His ex-wife (Shirley Knight) has custody of their two sons and she's about to remarry a dorky post-grad student majoring in hydraulics; Chamberlain, Christie's husband, apparently impotent, beats her on occasion and has a rich father (Joseph Cotton) who enables the son's behavior. When Chamberlain discovers Christie's affair, he beats her savagely while she's alone in Scott's apartment. She survives and Scott tries to pry her out of the family's grasp, but she ends up staying. In the last scene, set a year later, she has gotten pregnant and comes to Scott's hospital to have the baby. They meet and contemplate running off together, but don't.
In addition to exploring the mysteries of love and lust and intimate violence, the film also has running riffs on both the bourgeois culture and the counterculture of the time. For the middle and upper classes, artifice trumps reality: a worker installing a miniature greenhouse in Scott's apartment tells him that it's important that the flowers get no sunlight at all, just artificial light; in a very funny scene, Austin Pendleton plays a doctor who has to explain to a hospital patient that the TV set in her room is just a "dummy" one, there to encourage her to pay to rent a real one. On the other hand, the counterculture doesn't come off all that well: when the battered and bloody Christie is taken out of Scott's apartment, the hippies (among them Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead) make disparaging remarks like, "Call if you get work." There's an odd subplot about a Mexican boy who hops a ride to California with Christie and Chamberlain which becomes an important plot point, but its telling is the most fractured narrative strand of the whole movie, frustratingly so, and to no specific purpose that I could see. The time jumps and editing jolts seem to be devices to distance the viewers, and they do take some getting used to. Christie is very good, as is Scott, though it is a little disorienting at first to see him playing a tender, understanding man, the opposite of his usual loud, brusque, sometimes brutish roles. Beautifully photographed on location in San Francisco. Worth seeing, but be prepared to pay attention. [DVD]
Although on the surface this seems like a 60's period piece, with hippies and violence and mod clothes and critiques of materialism and alienation, not to mention a fractured narrative style with flashbacks and flash-forwards, it's really barely dated at all. The psychedelic trappings of the era which might most obviously date the film remain in the background; the main characters here mostly look and act like people living in the 21st century. This was my second viewing of the film, and it's a movie I appreciate more than like. It begins like a surreal screwball comedy with oddly mannered dialogue, as if someone like Edward Albee had re-written BRINGING UP BABY. At a high society charity function (with Janis Joplin performing), respected surgeon George C. Scott, attending stag due to his impending divorce, is set upon by desperately whimsical beauty Julie Christie, the title character, who is unhappily married to ship architect Richard Chamberlain. Christie goes after Scott rather like Hepburn goes after Grant in BABY, but Scott is a little more able to keep his equilibrium. After the ball, he does wind up going off into the night with her but despite going to a hotel, they don't quite finish their one-night stand--she, as he puts her in a cab: "I'm going to marry you, Archie"; he, resignedly, "It's the Pepsi generation." After this bumpy start, they do begin an affair in which, we assume, she will loosen him up a bit and he will perhaps normalize her a bit (at one point, he says he's tired of her "I Love Lucy" antics), but things take a turn for the near-tragic as we learn more about their backgrounds. His ex-wife (Shirley Knight) has custody of their two sons and she's about to remarry a dorky post-grad student majoring in hydraulics; Chamberlain, Christie's husband, apparently impotent, beats her on occasion and has a rich father (Joseph Cotton) who enables the son's behavior. When Chamberlain discovers Christie's affair, he beats her savagely while she's alone in Scott's apartment. She survives and Scott tries to pry her out of the family's grasp, but she ends up staying. In the last scene, set a year later, she has gotten pregnant and comes to Scott's hospital to have the baby. They meet and contemplate running off together, but don't.
In addition to exploring the mysteries of love and lust and intimate violence, the film also has running riffs on both the bourgeois culture and the counterculture of the time. For the middle and upper classes, artifice trumps reality: a worker installing a miniature greenhouse in Scott's apartment tells him that it's important that the flowers get no sunlight at all, just artificial light; in a very funny scene, Austin Pendleton plays a doctor who has to explain to a hospital patient that the TV set in her room is just a "dummy" one, there to encourage her to pay to rent a real one. On the other hand, the counterculture doesn't come off all that well: when the battered and bloody Christie is taken out of Scott's apartment, the hippies (among them Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead) make disparaging remarks like, "Call if you get work." There's an odd subplot about a Mexican boy who hops a ride to California with Christie and Chamberlain which becomes an important plot point, but its telling is the most fractured narrative strand of the whole movie, frustratingly so, and to no specific purpose that I could see. The time jumps and editing jolts seem to be devices to distance the viewers, and they do take some getting used to. Christie is very good, as is Scott, though it is a little disorienting at first to see him playing a tender, understanding man, the opposite of his usual loud, brusque, sometimes brutish roles. Beautifully photographed on location in San Francisco. Worth seeing, but be prepared to pay attention. [DVD]
Sunday, February 18, 2007
WAY OUT WEST (1930)
This early talkie has an amusing plotline which is derailed a bit by an artificial, over-the-top performance from William Haines, getting just a bit too old at 30 to still be effective playing his youthful wisecracker roles. In this one, he plays a cocky carnival barker for a dancing girls act; one night after the show in Deep Gulch, he cheats a bunch of ranch hands with a rigged roulette wheel and plans to abscond to Chicago with the chunk of ill-gotten cash. His plans go awry when 1) one of the girls steals his money, and 2) the angry cowboys realize they've been cheated and try to lynch him when he can't give back their dough. However, the ranch owner (Charles Middleton) talks the boys into making him stay on the ranch and work off his debt. They give him a hard time but he manages to stay mostly one step ahead of them until he falls for the owner's sister (Leila Hyams) and she for him, much against Middleton's wishes. The funniest single line may be when Hyams, expecting the maid Pansy (Polly Moran), tells him to come in, sees him, and says, "You're not Pansy"; his reply, in full camp mode: "I'm the wildest pansy you ever picked!" In the end, Haines redeems himself by braving a sandstorm to get Hyams medical help for a dangerous snakebite. Haines is rather grating, and he has very little chemistry with Hyams. Cliff Edwards is fun, as usual, as one of the less ornery cowpokes, and Francis X. Bushman Jr. (son of the famous silent star) plays a more obnoxious but hunky cowboy whose plans for marrying Hyams wind up dashed. Moderately interesting, but mostly as a museum piece or for fans of Haines. [TCM]
This early talkie has an amusing plotline which is derailed a bit by an artificial, over-the-top performance from William Haines, getting just a bit too old at 30 to still be effective playing his youthful wisecracker roles. In this one, he plays a cocky carnival barker for a dancing girls act; one night after the show in Deep Gulch, he cheats a bunch of ranch hands with a rigged roulette wheel and plans to abscond to Chicago with the chunk of ill-gotten cash. His plans go awry when 1) one of the girls steals his money, and 2) the angry cowboys realize they've been cheated and try to lynch him when he can't give back their dough. However, the ranch owner (Charles Middleton) talks the boys into making him stay on the ranch and work off his debt. They give him a hard time but he manages to stay mostly one step ahead of them until he falls for the owner's sister (Leila Hyams) and she for him, much against Middleton's wishes. The funniest single line may be when Hyams, expecting the maid Pansy (Polly Moran), tells him to come in, sees him, and says, "You're not Pansy"; his reply, in full camp mode: "I'm the wildest pansy you ever picked!" In the end, Haines redeems himself by braving a sandstorm to get Hyams medical help for a dangerous snakebite. Haines is rather grating, and he has very little chemistry with Hyams. Cliff Edwards is fun, as usual, as one of the less ornery cowpokes, and Francis X. Bushman Jr. (son of the famous silent star) plays a more obnoxious but hunky cowboy whose plans for marrying Hyams wind up dashed. Moderately interesting, but mostly as a museum piece or for fans of Haines. [TCM]
Saturday, February 17, 2007
SO ENDS OUR NIGHT (1941)
A gray-area WWII movie, made while America was still technically neutral. An opening title card tells us this is the story of "people without passports," specifically refugees from Germany and Nazi occupation in the late 30's. The narrative begins in Vienna in 1937; several refugees are sharing a flophouse hotel room, among them Fredric March, a German Aryan who despises Nazi ideology and is an escapee from a concentration camp, but is trying to get back to Germany to see his sick wife, and Glenn Ford, a young half-Jewish man new to the game of staying one step ahead of the police. March and Ford get some jail time and become friends before being released at the Czech border. Ford, in Prague, falls in love with Margaret Sullavan, a Jewish chemistry student who has to resort to subterfuge to continue her studies. Thinking she is hurting Ford's chances at a free life, she leaves him to go to Zurich, but he follows her. March, back in Vienna as a carnival mind reader, becomes a hunted man when the Nazis invade Austria, and the trio wind up together in France. Sullavan's professor suggests that she marry a Frenchman to get legitimate ID papers, but she's fallen in love with Ford. There are more journeys, entrapments, and escapes before March, held by Nazi officer Erich von Stroheim, agrees to betray resistance leaders if he is allowed to visit his dying wife (Frances Dee). Of course, he's Fredric March so instead of betrayal, he performs a heroic act of self-sacrifice which allows Ford and Sullavan to have a better shot at a happy life together. All three leads are fine, with Ford taking acting honors here (Sullavan seems a bit at sea, perhaps because of her underwritten character). Leonid Kinskey and Anna Sten are standouts in the supporting cast. The movie is directed by John Cromwell, but owes its effective, moody atmosphere to production designer William Cameron Menzies. Though not the first Hollywood movie to depict the plight of Nazi victims in Europe, it was apparently the first one to show that Jews were being singled out. This interesting film is only available on DVD from VCI in a print which leaves much to be desired, especially in its soundtrack which has a tinny, electronic echo from time to time. [DVD]
A gray-area WWII movie, made while America was still technically neutral. An opening title card tells us this is the story of "people without passports," specifically refugees from Germany and Nazi occupation in the late 30's. The narrative begins in Vienna in 1937; several refugees are sharing a flophouse hotel room, among them Fredric March, a German Aryan who despises Nazi ideology and is an escapee from a concentration camp, but is trying to get back to Germany to see his sick wife, and Glenn Ford, a young half-Jewish man new to the game of staying one step ahead of the police. March and Ford get some jail time and become friends before being released at the Czech border. Ford, in Prague, falls in love with Margaret Sullavan, a Jewish chemistry student who has to resort to subterfuge to continue her studies. Thinking she is hurting Ford's chances at a free life, she leaves him to go to Zurich, but he follows her. March, back in Vienna as a carnival mind reader, becomes a hunted man when the Nazis invade Austria, and the trio wind up together in France. Sullavan's professor suggests that she marry a Frenchman to get legitimate ID papers, but she's fallen in love with Ford. There are more journeys, entrapments, and escapes before March, held by Nazi officer Erich von Stroheim, agrees to betray resistance leaders if he is allowed to visit his dying wife (Frances Dee). Of course, he's Fredric March so instead of betrayal, he performs a heroic act of self-sacrifice which allows Ford and Sullavan to have a better shot at a happy life together. All three leads are fine, with Ford taking acting honors here (Sullavan seems a bit at sea, perhaps because of her underwritten character). Leonid Kinskey and Anna Sten are standouts in the supporting cast. The movie is directed by John Cromwell, but owes its effective, moody atmosphere to production designer William Cameron Menzies. Though not the first Hollywood movie to depict the plight of Nazi victims in Europe, it was apparently the first one to show that Jews were being singled out. This interesting film is only available on DVD from VCI in a print which leaves much to be desired, especially in its soundtrack which has a tinny, electronic echo from time to time. [DVD]
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
BOOM (1968)
Like THE DAY THE FISH CAME OUT, this is one of my Holy Grails from the '60s, a notoriously bad movie I'd heard a lot about but thought I might never get to see; it's not on DVD but the Sundance Channel, bless its independent little heart, showed it in January. It has the reputation of being a camp classic, helped no doubt by the fact that it's John Waters' favorite movie, but while I did find some of it laughable, it never really rose to camp levels. I can't say it's a very good movie, but it's not as bad as its reputation would have it. Based on a Tennessee Williams play ("The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore") from the beginning of his declining years, the story concerns Sissy Goforth (Elizabeth Taylor), a monumentally rich woman, much married (and divorced), who is aging quite gracefully but also dying (of an unspecified illness, probably a kin to that infamous Fatal Cinematic Disease that allowed Ali McGraw to die so beautifully in LOVE STORY). She is spending what is likely to be her last summer on earth on an island that she owns, in a fabulous bone-white villa overlooking the Mediterranean. Her days (and sometimes the middle of her nights) are spent dictating her memoirs into any one of a vast network of tape recorders, to be transcribed by her long-suffering assistant (Joanna Shimkus), and bossing around her small army of servants, including security man Michael Dunn (Dr. Loveless from Wild Wild West) who has his own small army of slathering hounds at his beck and call. One day, dissolute poet Chris Flanders (Richard Burton) hitches a boat ride to the island, rising up out the surf and climbing a cliff to be attacked by Dunn's dogs. Taylor allows him to stay in a guest room to recover from his mostly superficial wounds, but otherwise pays little attention to him until her gossip buddy, nicknamed the Witch of Capri (Noel Coward), tells her that Burton is known in high society circles as the Angel of Death for his knack of being a sponging houseguest whose aging hosts often wind up dead just after he leaves. Taylor invites Burton to dine with her and most of the rest of the film consists of conversations between the two which play out like a less intimate, dumbed-down version of their classic rants in WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?
At first, the whole thing feels heavily symbolic, like a Twilight Zone episode without either horror or whimsy (and thanks to a Yahoo Groups friend who pointed out the film's similarity to a specific Zone show with Gladys Cooper as a dying old lady and Robert Redford as the handsome death figure). But we find out near the end that it's all too literal: Burton's character really is just a dissolute poet who believes he has a gift for helping dying people accept their death. The real problem here is the casting. Taylor is too young and healthy to be effective as an aging, dying woman--her way of showing pain is to moan a bit and shriek, "Pain!! Injections!!" into the house intercom. Burton, though by no means old or unattractive, is also not nearly beautiful or ethereal enough to be an angelic stud--Tab Hunter played the role on stage opposite Tallulah Bankhead, and while the staging was not a success, certainly the two were more appropriate for the roles than Taylor and Burton. While overall the movie doesn't work, there are pleasures to be had: Taylor's force-of-nature delivery is fun to watch, as is Coward's serious feyness. Almost every frame of the film looks gorgeous, thanks to director Joseph Losey and cinematographer Douglas Slocombe (credited oddly as "lighting cameraman"), the lovely seaside locations in Sardinia, and the stunning house, which is probably a combination of a real house and built sets. The music, which alternates between sitar music and a more conventional score, is very nice as well. The title refers to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, as explained by Burton, sounding like "the shock of each moment, of still being alive," a thought I rather like, and which is complemented by Taylor's complaint that "life is all memory except for each present moment which goes by so quickly you can hardly catch it." My favorite scene is the dinner between Coward and Taylor, with the grande dame dressed outrageously in a fabulous white Kabuki outfit with a huge, shiny Aztecy headdress. It is almost worth catching this film just to see Taylor in the outfit; she's probably the only actress ever who could get away with it, except maybe Divine. (Everything comes back to John Waters eventually...) [Sundance Channel]
Like THE DAY THE FISH CAME OUT, this is one of my Holy Grails from the '60s, a notoriously bad movie I'd heard a lot about but thought I might never get to see; it's not on DVD but the Sundance Channel, bless its independent little heart, showed it in January. It has the reputation of being a camp classic, helped no doubt by the fact that it's John Waters' favorite movie, but while I did find some of it laughable, it never really rose to camp levels. I can't say it's a very good movie, but it's not as bad as its reputation would have it. Based on a Tennessee Williams play ("The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore") from the beginning of his declining years, the story concerns Sissy Goforth (Elizabeth Taylor), a monumentally rich woman, much married (and divorced), who is aging quite gracefully but also dying (of an unspecified illness, probably a kin to that infamous Fatal Cinematic Disease that allowed Ali McGraw to die so beautifully in LOVE STORY). She is spending what is likely to be her last summer on earth on an island that she owns, in a fabulous bone-white villa overlooking the Mediterranean. Her days (and sometimes the middle of her nights) are spent dictating her memoirs into any one of a vast network of tape recorders, to be transcribed by her long-suffering assistant (Joanna Shimkus), and bossing around her small army of servants, including security man Michael Dunn (Dr. Loveless from Wild Wild West) who has his own small army of slathering hounds at his beck and call. One day, dissolute poet Chris Flanders (Richard Burton) hitches a boat ride to the island, rising up out the surf and climbing a cliff to be attacked by Dunn's dogs. Taylor allows him to stay in a guest room to recover from his mostly superficial wounds, but otherwise pays little attention to him until her gossip buddy, nicknamed the Witch of Capri (Noel Coward), tells her that Burton is known in high society circles as the Angel of Death for his knack of being a sponging houseguest whose aging hosts often wind up dead just after he leaves. Taylor invites Burton to dine with her and most of the rest of the film consists of conversations between the two which play out like a less intimate, dumbed-down version of their classic rants in WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?
At first, the whole thing feels heavily symbolic, like a Twilight Zone episode without either horror or whimsy (and thanks to a Yahoo Groups friend who pointed out the film's similarity to a specific Zone show with Gladys Cooper as a dying old lady and Robert Redford as the handsome death figure). But we find out near the end that it's all too literal: Burton's character really is just a dissolute poet who believes he has a gift for helping dying people accept their death. The real problem here is the casting. Taylor is too young and healthy to be effective as an aging, dying woman--her way of showing pain is to moan a bit and shriek, "Pain!! Injections!!" into the house intercom. Burton, though by no means old or unattractive, is also not nearly beautiful or ethereal enough to be an angelic stud--Tab Hunter played the role on stage opposite Tallulah Bankhead, and while the staging was not a success, certainly the two were more appropriate for the roles than Taylor and Burton. While overall the movie doesn't work, there are pleasures to be had: Taylor's force-of-nature delivery is fun to watch, as is Coward's serious feyness. Almost every frame of the film looks gorgeous, thanks to director Joseph Losey and cinematographer Douglas Slocombe (credited oddly as "lighting cameraman"), the lovely seaside locations in Sardinia, and the stunning house, which is probably a combination of a real house and built sets. The music, which alternates between sitar music and a more conventional score, is very nice as well. The title refers to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, as explained by Burton, sounding like "the shock of each moment, of still being alive," a thought I rather like, and which is complemented by Taylor's complaint that "life is all memory except for each present moment which goes by so quickly you can hardly catch it." My favorite scene is the dinner between Coward and Taylor, with the grande dame dressed outrageously in a fabulous white Kabuki outfit with a huge, shiny Aztecy headdress. It is almost worth catching this film just to see Taylor in the outfit; she's probably the only actress ever who could get away with it, except maybe Divine. (Everything comes back to John Waters eventually...) [Sundance Channel]
Sunday, February 11, 2007
GENTLE ANNIE (1944)
An odd little western, based on a novel by Pulitzer Prize winner MacKinlay Kantor; the plot shows potential, but full development of characterization is lacking, and I'm guessing that the Production Code may have hampered things a bit. Set in 1901, the story follows a U.S. Marshal (James Craig) who is sent to Oklahoma in disguise as a hobo to investigate a train robbery in which a load of federal money was stolen. Rumors and clues point to the Goss boys (Henry Morgan and Paul Langton), seemingly friendly guys who live with their loving mother (Marjorie Main). Craig is befriended by the family when he gets in trouble with the local sherrif (Barton MacLane), a nasty and corrupt man whom the boys believe is responsible for their father's death. Donna Reed, a new girl in town working as a waitress until she can raise money to head home for Missouri, also winds up staying with the Gosses; it turns out that Main herself is trying to raise money to move back there after her Confederate husband's death left her with no resources. We know from the beginning that the boys were indeed responsible for the robbery, which they pulled to get money to give Main, and they don't feel they did anything wrong because their Pa's philosophy was, "Anything anyone can get from a Northerner is fair and square." We eventually find out that Main knows what they did, though it's not completely clear how she feels about it--some critics refer to her character as an outlaw, and she certainly agrees with her husband's thoughts about Northerners, but she also does not seem to actively encourage her boys' banditry. Craig finds solid evidence against the boys, but when they invite him to join them in another robbery, he's conflicted about what to do. His duty wins out and he arrests the boys, but they get the upper hand on him until they all discover that MacLane has shot Main. Craig and the boys work out a deal to take care of MacLane and then give themselves up. Things don't quite work out so smoothly, although ultimately Production Code justice is served, and Craig and Reed go off in the sunset together. In a somewhat modern touch, the movie's tone changes from warmhearted and comic at the beginning (scenes of Main talking to herself while she makes breakfast, and she and the boys greeting a portrait of the father as though they were saying hello to a person) to serious and grim by the end (deaths of major characters and a climactic shoot-'em-up). I would have liked more fleshing out of the characters, especially Main and Reed. Some of the names in the movie are a little strange: one of the boys (Langton) is named Violet because Main wanted a girl so badly, and the boys call Main "Mud" and "Muddie." [TCM]
An odd little western, based on a novel by Pulitzer Prize winner MacKinlay Kantor; the plot shows potential, but full development of characterization is lacking, and I'm guessing that the Production Code may have hampered things a bit. Set in 1901, the story follows a U.S. Marshal (James Craig) who is sent to Oklahoma in disguise as a hobo to investigate a train robbery in which a load of federal money was stolen. Rumors and clues point to the Goss boys (Henry Morgan and Paul Langton), seemingly friendly guys who live with their loving mother (Marjorie Main). Craig is befriended by the family when he gets in trouble with the local sherrif (Barton MacLane), a nasty and corrupt man whom the boys believe is responsible for their father's death. Donna Reed, a new girl in town working as a waitress until she can raise money to head home for Missouri, also winds up staying with the Gosses; it turns out that Main herself is trying to raise money to move back there after her Confederate husband's death left her with no resources. We know from the beginning that the boys were indeed responsible for the robbery, which they pulled to get money to give Main, and they don't feel they did anything wrong because their Pa's philosophy was, "Anything anyone can get from a Northerner is fair and square." We eventually find out that Main knows what they did, though it's not completely clear how she feels about it--some critics refer to her character as an outlaw, and she certainly agrees with her husband's thoughts about Northerners, but she also does not seem to actively encourage her boys' banditry. Craig finds solid evidence against the boys, but when they invite him to join them in another robbery, he's conflicted about what to do. His duty wins out and he arrests the boys, but they get the upper hand on him until they all discover that MacLane has shot Main. Craig and the boys work out a deal to take care of MacLane and then give themselves up. Things don't quite work out so smoothly, although ultimately Production Code justice is served, and Craig and Reed go off in the sunset together. In a somewhat modern touch, the movie's tone changes from warmhearted and comic at the beginning (scenes of Main talking to herself while she makes breakfast, and she and the boys greeting a portrait of the father as though they were saying hello to a person) to serious and grim by the end (deaths of major characters and a climactic shoot-'em-up). I would have liked more fleshing out of the characters, especially Main and Reed. Some of the names in the movie are a little strange: one of the boys (Langton) is named Violet because Main wanted a girl so badly, and the boys call Main "Mud" and "Muddie." [TCM]
Thursday, February 08, 2007
THE HONEYMOON KILLERS (1970)
Cult movie which, while interesting, seems a little overrated to me, worth watching mostly for its historical significance as a bridge between films like IN COLD BLOOD and HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, and for excellent performances by its leads, Tony Lo Bianco and Shirley Stoler. The narrative is based on a true story and apparently sticks pretty close to the facts. Stoler plays a mean, lonely, overweight nurse who lives with her senile mother. When her friend (a very young Doris Roberts) enters Stoler in a lonely hearts correspondence club, she's pissed off until she hits it off with Lo Bianco, a sexy but clearly low-rent guy who flirts with her and charms her mother. When he wheedles a little cash out of Stoler and leaves, she calls him and threatens suicide (though we know that she's faking it). It turns out that he makes his living by glomming onto lonely single women who have some cash saved up and romancing them just enough to get his hands on the money before he splits. Far from being shocked, Stoler falls right into the scam with him, posing as his sister as he continues making contact with lonely women ripe for the picking. Things work for a while so long as Stoler believes that Lo Bianco isn't falling for or having sex with any of the women. Eventually, he marries a woman who is already pregnant and the three, cramped together in a tiny hotel room, get on each other's nerves; Stoler's solution is to feed the woman an overdose of pills and dump her on a bus, where she is found later dead. It's not clear to me if Stoler actually intended to kill her, but murder soon becomes the default solution to any problem. They bilk an older woman (Mary Jane Higby) when they claim to be investing her money by opening a hat shop for her; Higby gets suspicious of Stoler and his "sister" spending too much time alone in the cellar, so in a startling scene, the couple kill her with a hammer, and with the body still warm, Lo Biano strips off his clothes to have sex with Stoler. The last murders, also disturbing, occur when the woman being conned, the mother of a young daughter, tells Stoler she's become pregnant by Lo Bianco--they wind up shooting her and drowning the little girl. Finally feeling resigned to the fact that she'll never be able to keep Lo Bianco for herself, she calls the police and turns them both in. Stoler is fearless playing an unattractive character, in both looks and personality. Similarly, Lo Bianco is great as a guy with just enough looks and surface charm to get away with the scams he does. Because the focus of the film is on Stoler (she is in almost every scene), Lo Bianco remains a bit of a cipher; I was never sure if he really was in love with Stoler, or had just come to rely on her as a helpmate and confidante. Nevertheless, the two both give fine performances, even if, in retrospect, it seems as if Stoler may have served as a template for the persona of Divine in the movies of John Waters. The stark black and white semi-documentary look of the film gives it an unsettling matter-of-fact tone. Written and directed by Leonard Kastle, who sadly never did another film. [TCM]
Cult movie which, while interesting, seems a little overrated to me, worth watching mostly for its historical significance as a bridge between films like IN COLD BLOOD and HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, and for excellent performances by its leads, Tony Lo Bianco and Shirley Stoler. The narrative is based on a true story and apparently sticks pretty close to the facts. Stoler plays a mean, lonely, overweight nurse who lives with her senile mother. When her friend (a very young Doris Roberts) enters Stoler in a lonely hearts correspondence club, she's pissed off until she hits it off with Lo Bianco, a sexy but clearly low-rent guy who flirts with her and charms her mother. When he wheedles a little cash out of Stoler and leaves, she calls him and threatens suicide (though we know that she's faking it). It turns out that he makes his living by glomming onto lonely single women who have some cash saved up and romancing them just enough to get his hands on the money before he splits. Far from being shocked, Stoler falls right into the scam with him, posing as his sister as he continues making contact with lonely women ripe for the picking. Things work for a while so long as Stoler believes that Lo Bianco isn't falling for or having sex with any of the women. Eventually, he marries a woman who is already pregnant and the three, cramped together in a tiny hotel room, get on each other's nerves; Stoler's solution is to feed the woman an overdose of pills and dump her on a bus, where she is found later dead. It's not clear to me if Stoler actually intended to kill her, but murder soon becomes the default solution to any problem. They bilk an older woman (Mary Jane Higby) when they claim to be investing her money by opening a hat shop for her; Higby gets suspicious of Stoler and his "sister" spending too much time alone in the cellar, so in a startling scene, the couple kill her with a hammer, and with the body still warm, Lo Biano strips off his clothes to have sex with Stoler. The last murders, also disturbing, occur when the woman being conned, the mother of a young daughter, tells Stoler she's become pregnant by Lo Bianco--they wind up shooting her and drowning the little girl. Finally feeling resigned to the fact that she'll never be able to keep Lo Bianco for herself, she calls the police and turns them both in. Stoler is fearless playing an unattractive character, in both looks and personality. Similarly, Lo Bianco is great as a guy with just enough looks and surface charm to get away with the scams he does. Because the focus of the film is on Stoler (she is in almost every scene), Lo Bianco remains a bit of a cipher; I was never sure if he really was in love with Stoler, or had just come to rely on her as a helpmate and confidante. Nevertheless, the two both give fine performances, even if, in retrospect, it seems as if Stoler may have served as a template for the persona of Divine in the movies of John Waters. The stark black and white semi-documentary look of the film gives it an unsettling matter-of-fact tone. Written and directed by Leonard Kastle, who sadly never did another film. [TCM]
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
THE REAL GLORY (1939)
This adventure film feels like a recycling of ideas, characters, and elements from lots of other films in the Gunga Din/Beau Geste genre: stories of a gallant group of men fighting against the odds (and rebellious natives) in an exotic setting. GUNGA DIN is more "romplike" than this one, with some of the stars not surviving to the final fadeout. Based very loosely, I presume, on historical events, this is set in the Phillipines in 1906, as U.S. Army troops, left in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War, are set to go home. A handful of men are being left behind to make sure that the native troops can handle the Moro terrorists living in the jungles just outside the village. The head of the Moros, Alipang, is an almost legendary figure who strikes fear in the hearts of the natives; his men are fanatic suicidal assassins who wield their machetes with the promise of heaven waiting (shades of present day terrorists). Getting the troops to get beyond their fear and to realize that Alipang and his men are only human and can be fought like any other enemy is the main chore of our ragtag band of heroes: soldiers David Niven and Broderick Crawford, who train the troops under the supervision of Reginald Owen, and doctor Gary Cooper. As in all these "boy's adventure" movies, there is a half-hearted romance (involving Andrea Leeds, Owen's headstrong daughter) and a non-military crisis (a cholera epidemic) that allows people to show their mettle. Alipang (Tetsu Komai) keeps trying to get the troops to come to him in the jungle where he has the advantage, and tension grows between Owen, slowly going blind, who wants to wait out the Moros, and Cooper, who is instrumental in inspiring the troops and is certain that they are ready to fight. Eventually, the Moros dam up a river crucial to the village and the ailing Owen has no choice but to essentially let Cooper take over on his terms. The final battle is a doozy, with machetes swinging, guns firing, and Moros catapulting themselves over the walls of the village. Supporting players include Henry Kolker as the general who is behind the initial troop withdrawal, Russell Hicks as a doomed captain, Kay Johnson as Hicks' wife, and Vladimir Sokoloff as a "good" Moro who may not be so good after all. Overall, the movie is fine, though I wish that Niven had more to do; I don't think it's a spoiler to note that when we hear Niven pining away for an island of his own to retire on, it's a sure sign that he's a goner. The doldrums of the middle of the movie (as all such movies are prey to) are overcome by the action of the last twenty minutes. A must for Cooper fans, though he comes off better in the same year's BEAU GESTE. [TCM]
This adventure film feels like a recycling of ideas, characters, and elements from lots of other films in the Gunga Din/Beau Geste genre: stories of a gallant group of men fighting against the odds (and rebellious natives) in an exotic setting. GUNGA DIN is more "romplike" than this one, with some of the stars not surviving to the final fadeout. Based very loosely, I presume, on historical events, this is set in the Phillipines in 1906, as U.S. Army troops, left in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War, are set to go home. A handful of men are being left behind to make sure that the native troops can handle the Moro terrorists living in the jungles just outside the village. The head of the Moros, Alipang, is an almost legendary figure who strikes fear in the hearts of the natives; his men are fanatic suicidal assassins who wield their machetes with the promise of heaven waiting (shades of present day terrorists). Getting the troops to get beyond their fear and to realize that Alipang and his men are only human and can be fought like any other enemy is the main chore of our ragtag band of heroes: soldiers David Niven and Broderick Crawford, who train the troops under the supervision of Reginald Owen, and doctor Gary Cooper. As in all these "boy's adventure" movies, there is a half-hearted romance (involving Andrea Leeds, Owen's headstrong daughter) and a non-military crisis (a cholera epidemic) that allows people to show their mettle. Alipang (Tetsu Komai) keeps trying to get the troops to come to him in the jungle where he has the advantage, and tension grows between Owen, slowly going blind, who wants to wait out the Moros, and Cooper, who is instrumental in inspiring the troops and is certain that they are ready to fight. Eventually, the Moros dam up a river crucial to the village and the ailing Owen has no choice but to essentially let Cooper take over on his terms. The final battle is a doozy, with machetes swinging, guns firing, and Moros catapulting themselves over the walls of the village. Supporting players include Henry Kolker as the general who is behind the initial troop withdrawal, Russell Hicks as a doomed captain, Kay Johnson as Hicks' wife, and Vladimir Sokoloff as a "good" Moro who may not be so good after all. Overall, the movie is fine, though I wish that Niven had more to do; I don't think it's a spoiler to note that when we hear Niven pining away for an island of his own to retire on, it's a sure sign that he's a goner. The doldrums of the middle of the movie (as all such movies are prey to) are overcome by the action of the last twenty minutes. A must for Cooper fans, though he comes off better in the same year's BEAU GESTE. [TCM]
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The first two MR. MOTO movies
It's probably not politically correct to say so, but I do enjoy the Asian detective movies that came out of Hollywood in the '30s and '40s (to wit, the Messrs. Chan, Moto, and Wong) even if the actors who played these main roles were not Asian. The Japanese Mr. Moto was originally featured in a series of novels by John P. Marquand, and was not exactly an unambiguous "good guy"; usually, he was a secondary character looking our for Japanese interests who wound up helping the American hero out of a tough spot. Though I have reviewed Moto movies before, most of them were very hard to find until Fox released a boxed set of four of the films last year (with the remaining four coming out this month). These first two of the series (both from 1937), like the rest, star Peter Lorre as Kentaro Moto, who is not a detective but a kind of independent adventurer who gets involved in cases of espionage and winds up working with police or government agents. He is much more down and dirty than the more cerebral Chan, quicker with his fists than with his quips. The poster art of Lorre on the cover of the first DVD verges on the offensive, with horribly exaggerated buck teeth, but his actual appearance in the films is not quite so stereotyped.
THINK FAST, MR. MOTO opens quickly but confusingly with Moto, in disguise in a San Francisco curio shop, getting into fisticuffs and witnessing a murder. He books passage to Singapore on an ocean liner owned by the Hitchings company, and becomes friendly with the son of the line's owner (Thomas Beck) who has been a wastrel but is being given another chance at the business by his dad; we soon learn that Moto is on the trail of diamond smugglers who have been using the Hitchings line for their dastardly doings. Virginia Field is Beck's love interest, who may actually be one of the bad guys. Reliable villain Sig Ruman is present, as are J. Carroll Naish and Philip Ahn. The plotline takes a while to develop, but the film is paced well and Lorre makes a solid hero figure, involved in a fair amount of physical action. One scene in which he almost casually tosses a man out of ship porthole to his death is quite startling. THANK YOU, MR. MOTO begins in the Gobi desert as a group of travelers set up camp during a sandstorm and a man is killed trying to steal a scroll painting. Then, as in THINK FAST, we see Lorre in disguise, being held for suspicion of art smuggling, but actually he is, once again, on the trail of people trying to get their hands on a set of scrolls which, when put together, shows the location of the tomb of Genghis Kahn (shades of Fu Manchu!). Ruman is again the chief baddie, Beck is again the handsome Anglo lead (who romances the forgettable Jayne Regan), and John Carradine is a lesser baddie. The most interesting characters here are Prince Chung (Philip Ahn) and his mother (Pauline Frederick) who hold most of the Kahn scrolls. There is much skullduggery over the scrolls, ending in tragedy for some. These are both quite fun, and though B-films, never look cheap. [I've previously reviewed MR. MOTO'S LAST WARNING and a longer review of THINK FAST appears here. [DVD]
It's probably not politically correct to say so, but I do enjoy the Asian detective movies that came out of Hollywood in the '30s and '40s (to wit, the Messrs. Chan, Moto, and Wong) even if the actors who played these main roles were not Asian. The Japanese Mr. Moto was originally featured in a series of novels by John P. Marquand, and was not exactly an unambiguous "good guy"; usually, he was a secondary character looking our for Japanese interests who wound up helping the American hero out of a tough spot. Though I have reviewed Moto movies before, most of them were very hard to find until Fox released a boxed set of four of the films last year (with the remaining four coming out this month). These first two of the series (both from 1937), like the rest, star Peter Lorre as Kentaro Moto, who is not a detective but a kind of independent adventurer who gets involved in cases of espionage and winds up working with police or government agents. He is much more down and dirty than the more cerebral Chan, quicker with his fists than with his quips. The poster art of Lorre on the cover of the first DVD verges on the offensive, with horribly exaggerated buck teeth, but his actual appearance in the films is not quite so stereotyped.
THINK FAST, MR. MOTO opens quickly but confusingly with Moto, in disguise in a San Francisco curio shop, getting into fisticuffs and witnessing a murder. He books passage to Singapore on an ocean liner owned by the Hitchings company, and becomes friendly with the son of the line's owner (Thomas Beck) who has been a wastrel but is being given another chance at the business by his dad; we soon learn that Moto is on the trail of diamond smugglers who have been using the Hitchings line for their dastardly doings. Virginia Field is Beck's love interest, who may actually be one of the bad guys. Reliable villain Sig Ruman is present, as are J. Carroll Naish and Philip Ahn. The plotline takes a while to develop, but the film is paced well and Lorre makes a solid hero figure, involved in a fair amount of physical action. One scene in which he almost casually tosses a man out of ship porthole to his death is quite startling. THANK YOU, MR. MOTO begins in the Gobi desert as a group of travelers set up camp during a sandstorm and a man is killed trying to steal a scroll painting. Then, as in THINK FAST, we see Lorre in disguise, being held for suspicion of art smuggling, but actually he is, once again, on the trail of people trying to get their hands on a set of scrolls which, when put together, shows the location of the tomb of Genghis Kahn (shades of Fu Manchu!). Ruman is again the chief baddie, Beck is again the handsome Anglo lead (who romances the forgettable Jayne Regan), and John Carradine is a lesser baddie. The most interesting characters here are Prince Chung (Philip Ahn) and his mother (Pauline Frederick) who hold most of the Kahn scrolls. There is much skullduggery over the scrolls, ending in tragedy for some. These are both quite fun, and though B-films, never look cheap. [I've previously reviewed MR. MOTO'S LAST WARNING and a longer review of THINK FAST appears here. [DVD]
Friday, February 02, 2007
BY WHOSE HAND? (1932)
Briskly paced and very enjoyable murder-on-a-train thriller which was considered lost for many years. The opening sequence, startling for an early 30's movie, shows a killer's-eye view of a murder in a train's sleeping compartment, then we flashback to the beginning of the train's journey in Los Angeles (to San Francisco) as we get a glimpse of each of the passengers as they arrive at the station. Jeweler Kenneth Thompson (the man who is murdered) says goodbye to his wife as he flirts with sexy Ethel Kenyon, who is clearly out to pull some kind of con on him. Ben Lyon, a wisecracking crime reporter who has just written a story about the escape of wanted killer Nat Pendleton, shows up because of reports that the killer is near the station; when the cops can't find him, Lyon decides on impulse to ride the train so he can follow Barbara Weeks, a total stranger from whom he accidentally gets a kiss. Also on the train: a crotchety old man (William V. Mong), a blonde widow (Helene Millard) traveling with her dead husband's body, a honeymooning couple who just want to get to some canoodling, and a drunk (Tom Dugan) who latches onto Lyon (and even at one point calls him his boyfriend). Finally, there's Dwight Frye, a crook who turned state's evidence against Pendleton and is now traveling in handcuffs under federal protection. Not to give anything away, but suffice to say that, after Thompson is found dead that night, we discover that not everyone is who he or she seems. The cops get involved (as does Pendleton, who springs out of a most unexpected place--I should have seen it coming, but I didn't), but it's Lyon who is most instrumental in wrapping things up. For a pre-Code film, it's not terribly racy (except for smirking references to the honeymooners), though a marijuana cigarette plays a crucial role in the proceedings. There's one scene that implies that Dugan isn't as drunk as he appears, but nothing is done with that--it's as if the writers couldn't decide what do with that character; if it's a deliberate red herring, it should have been developed a bit more. Lyon and Weeks are fine as the romantic leads; Frye is surprisingly laid back, playing yet another slimy type, but at least not a neurotic mess like he usually got stuck with. This is one of those movies from the Columbia vaults that's been rescued by Sony and Turner Classic Movies; the print was in great shape, and I highly recommend it for mystery fans. [TCM]
Briskly paced and very enjoyable murder-on-a-train thriller which was considered lost for many years. The opening sequence, startling for an early 30's movie, shows a killer's-eye view of a murder in a train's sleeping compartment, then we flashback to the beginning of the train's journey in Los Angeles (to San Francisco) as we get a glimpse of each of the passengers as they arrive at the station. Jeweler Kenneth Thompson (the man who is murdered) says goodbye to his wife as he flirts with sexy Ethel Kenyon, who is clearly out to pull some kind of con on him. Ben Lyon, a wisecracking crime reporter who has just written a story about the escape of wanted killer Nat Pendleton, shows up because of reports that the killer is near the station; when the cops can't find him, Lyon decides on impulse to ride the train so he can follow Barbara Weeks, a total stranger from whom he accidentally gets a kiss. Also on the train: a crotchety old man (William V. Mong), a blonde widow (Helene Millard) traveling with her dead husband's body, a honeymooning couple who just want to get to some canoodling, and a drunk (Tom Dugan) who latches onto Lyon (and even at one point calls him his boyfriend). Finally, there's Dwight Frye, a crook who turned state's evidence against Pendleton and is now traveling in handcuffs under federal protection. Not to give anything away, but suffice to say that, after Thompson is found dead that night, we discover that not everyone is who he or she seems. The cops get involved (as does Pendleton, who springs out of a most unexpected place--I should have seen it coming, but I didn't), but it's Lyon who is most instrumental in wrapping things up. For a pre-Code film, it's not terribly racy (except for smirking references to the honeymooners), though a marijuana cigarette plays a crucial role in the proceedings. There's one scene that implies that Dugan isn't as drunk as he appears, but nothing is done with that--it's as if the writers couldn't decide what do with that character; if it's a deliberate red herring, it should have been developed a bit more. Lyon and Weeks are fine as the romantic leads; Frye is surprisingly laid back, playing yet another slimy type, but at least not a neurotic mess like he usually got stuck with. This is one of those movies from the Columbia vaults that's been rescued by Sony and Turner Classic Movies; the print was in great shape, and I highly recommend it for mystery fans. [TCM]
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
THE LIFE OF THE PARTY (1930)
In the early days of sound, Winnie Lightner was a popular comic actress and singer, and this film is one of her few starring vehicles which is still in circulation--though DANCING LADY, in which she has a supporting role, is readily available. Here, she's brassy and sarcastic, and while I enjoyed her performance, I can see why she may have been more palatable as a second fiddle. The movie fits squarely in the comic "Gold Digger" genre of the era, with Lightner and Irene Delroy playing two working-class gals tired of their jobs singing for patrons in a sheet music store (and tired of their boss, whom Lightner calls a "pansy"). After a flirtatious playboy lays slapstick waste to the store, the boss blames the girls and fires them. They get jobs at M. LeMaire's dress shop but then take their clothes allowance and run off to do some man hunting in Havana, sending LeMaire (Charles Judels) a farewell telegram signed, "The Gold Dust Twins." The two stay at a resort hotel and Delroy sets her sights on a Mr. Smith (Jack Whiting), an overnight millionaire success due to his invention of a popular soft drink (called Rush!). However, she accidentally winds up involved with a different Mr. Smith (John Davidson), an oily lothario pretending to be rich but actually looking for his own meal ticket. Delroy and Whiting meet accidentally and hit it off, but Lightner pushes her to keep persuing Davidson. Meanwhile, addled but wealthy Southern horseman Charles Butterworth chases after Lightner. In the midst of all this, Judels comes down to Havana in hot pursuit of his dresses. Things get set right for our heroines after the comic climax in which Judels completely trashes a hotel room. Much of the humor, both physical and verbal, still holds up. I very much enjoyed Butterworth's nervous deadpan shtick, fluttering around on his own little cloud, exclaiming things like, "My, I'm all atwitter" and "Oh, the pity of it!"--it's a variation on what Edward Everett Horton did in the later Astaire/Rogers movies. Each scene of slapstick destruction is very amusing. Whiting is boyish but bland; Davidson is more interesting but not as handsome. Lightner left movies just a few years later, and based on the evidence of this film, I'm sorry she did. She could have carved out a fine comic career along the lines of a Joan Blondell or a Zasu Pitts. Whom or what the title refers to, I'm not sure, as I only remember one party in the movie, and none of the main characters is present for it. "Get Happy," later a big hit for Judy Garland, is used as background music early in the movie. [TCM]
In the early days of sound, Winnie Lightner was a popular comic actress and singer, and this film is one of her few starring vehicles which is still in circulation--though DANCING LADY, in which she has a supporting role, is readily available. Here, she's brassy and sarcastic, and while I enjoyed her performance, I can see why she may have been more palatable as a second fiddle. The movie fits squarely in the comic "Gold Digger" genre of the era, with Lightner and Irene Delroy playing two working-class gals tired of their jobs singing for patrons in a sheet music store (and tired of their boss, whom Lightner calls a "pansy"). After a flirtatious playboy lays slapstick waste to the store, the boss blames the girls and fires them. They get jobs at M. LeMaire's dress shop but then take their clothes allowance and run off to do some man hunting in Havana, sending LeMaire (Charles Judels) a farewell telegram signed, "The Gold Dust Twins." The two stay at a resort hotel and Delroy sets her sights on a Mr. Smith (Jack Whiting), an overnight millionaire success due to his invention of a popular soft drink (called Rush!). However, she accidentally winds up involved with a different Mr. Smith (John Davidson), an oily lothario pretending to be rich but actually looking for his own meal ticket. Delroy and Whiting meet accidentally and hit it off, but Lightner pushes her to keep persuing Davidson. Meanwhile, addled but wealthy Southern horseman Charles Butterworth chases after Lightner. In the midst of all this, Judels comes down to Havana in hot pursuit of his dresses. Things get set right for our heroines after the comic climax in which Judels completely trashes a hotel room. Much of the humor, both physical and verbal, still holds up. I very much enjoyed Butterworth's nervous deadpan shtick, fluttering around on his own little cloud, exclaiming things like, "My, I'm all atwitter" and "Oh, the pity of it!"--it's a variation on what Edward Everett Horton did in the later Astaire/Rogers movies. Each scene of slapstick destruction is very amusing. Whiting is boyish but bland; Davidson is more interesting but not as handsome. Lightner left movies just a few years later, and based on the evidence of this film, I'm sorry she did. She could have carved out a fine comic career along the lines of a Joan Blondell or a Zasu Pitts. Whom or what the title refers to, I'm not sure, as I only remember one party in the movie, and none of the main characters is present for it. "Get Happy," later a big hit for Judy Garland, is used as background music early in the movie. [TCM]
Saturday, January 27, 2007
BORN TO SING (1942)
This pleasant B-musical seems to have been an attempt by MGM to jump-start the careers of Virginia Weidler and Ray McDonald as juvenile stars to replace the "aging" Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney. Neither one went on to bigger and better things in the movies (Weidler's peak was actually a couple of years earlier playing Katharine Hepburn's kid sister in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY), but both actors are fine and the movie is more fun than its critical rep as a one-star bomb would suggest. Weidler's father, Henry O'Neill, is a composer (and ex-con sent up for vehicular manslaughter) who has had an entire score stolen by an unscrupulous Broadway producer. O'Neill tries to kill himself and is saved by a band of boys (including McDonald and Leo Gorcey) who strike up a friendship with Weidler. When they find out that O'Neill's stolen score is set to open on Broadway, the kids decide, in tried and true MGM fashion, to put on their own show with his songs by using neighborhood talent and corralling the opening night Broadway audience in to see it instead of the rip-off version. A janitor (Ben Carter) lets the kids become squatters in an abandoned cafe which had served as a Nazi Bund meeting place, and they later get some help from soft-hearted gangster Sheldon Leonard who uses his fleet of taxis to "steal" the Broadway audience. The last half-hour consists of some decent musical numbers staged by Sammy Lee, including "I Hate the Conga," which really feels like a Garland/Rooney number, but the climax, a sprawling social-consciousness number called "Ballad for Americans" staged by Busby Berekely, falls flat. Other cast members include Richard Hall and Beverly Hudson (who either sounded a lot like Garland or was dubbed by someone who did) as a particularly cute brother and sister act, Darla Hood from "Our Gang," and Margaret Dumont. I've liked Ray McDonald in other MGM films of the time (including DOWN IN SAN DIEGO and PRESENTING LILY MARS); he had a kind of boyish Ray Bolger/Donald O'Connor appeal and I'm sorry his career in films didn't last longer. Weidler is OK, but she just didn't seem to have the charisma needed to break out of the supporting juvenile mold. [TCM]
This pleasant B-musical seems to have been an attempt by MGM to jump-start the careers of Virginia Weidler and Ray McDonald as juvenile stars to replace the "aging" Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney. Neither one went on to bigger and better things in the movies (Weidler's peak was actually a couple of years earlier playing Katharine Hepburn's kid sister in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY), but both actors are fine and the movie is more fun than its critical rep as a one-star bomb would suggest. Weidler's father, Henry O'Neill, is a composer (and ex-con sent up for vehicular manslaughter) who has had an entire score stolen by an unscrupulous Broadway producer. O'Neill tries to kill himself and is saved by a band of boys (including McDonald and Leo Gorcey) who strike up a friendship with Weidler. When they find out that O'Neill's stolen score is set to open on Broadway, the kids decide, in tried and true MGM fashion, to put on their own show with his songs by using neighborhood talent and corralling the opening night Broadway audience in to see it instead of the rip-off version. A janitor (Ben Carter) lets the kids become squatters in an abandoned cafe which had served as a Nazi Bund meeting place, and they later get some help from soft-hearted gangster Sheldon Leonard who uses his fleet of taxis to "steal" the Broadway audience. The last half-hour consists of some decent musical numbers staged by Sammy Lee, including "I Hate the Conga," which really feels like a Garland/Rooney number, but the climax, a sprawling social-consciousness number called "Ballad for Americans" staged by Busby Berekely, falls flat. Other cast members include Richard Hall and Beverly Hudson (who either sounded a lot like Garland or was dubbed by someone who did) as a particularly cute brother and sister act, Darla Hood from "Our Gang," and Margaret Dumont. I've liked Ray McDonald in other MGM films of the time (including DOWN IN SAN DIEGO and PRESENTING LILY MARS); he had a kind of boyish Ray Bolger/Donald O'Connor appeal and I'm sorry his career in films didn't last longer. Weidler is OK, but she just didn't seem to have the charisma needed to break out of the supporting juvenile mold. [TCM]
Thursday, January 25, 2007
RAW DEAL (1948)
Another excellent low-budget film noir from Anthony Mann. Dennis O'Keefe is stewing away in a San Francisco prison, sent there for his part in a robbery which was masterminded by Raymond Burr, who kept all the money and set O'Keefe up to take the fall. Burr sends O'Keefe's moll, Claire Trevor, to break O'Keefe out of jail; Burr assumes that they won't actually get past the guards or the cops, but they do, which makes Burr nervous enough to send thug John Ireland out after them. Meanwhile, O'Keefe has stopped by the home of his social worker, Marsha Hunt, with whom he's gotten friendly, to get some help so he can face off with Burr, claim the money owed to him, and escape to Panama. Hunt tries to turn him in but he ends up taking her with them, setting up an occasionally tense on-the-road triangle. There's an incident at a mountain cabin involving a wife killer that has little to do with the plot except to add tension and show us that, for a crook, O'Keefe is basically an OK guy. Ireland catches up to them one night at a beachfront fishing supply store (a nicely atmospheric building) and after O'Keefe is double crossed by the store owner, fierce fisticuffs and gunplay ensue and Hunt saves O'Keefe's life. He sends her away so she won't get in any more trouble, but Burr's men snag her and get the message to Trevor that they'll torture her if he doesn't come in from the cold, so to speak, on Burr's terms. Trevor is torn: she wants O'Keefe for herself, but also realizes that Hunt is in a jam not of her own making. The well played finale, on fog-shrouded Corkscrew Alley, has violent fighting, a dangerous fire and excellent cinematography. This movie is a keeper all around, from the solid acting, especially from O'Keefe, Trevor, and Burr, to its shadowy look (thanks largely to cinematographer John Alton), to the tense tone which is kept up throughout. The film includes a famous shot of Burr throwing a flaming dessert dish in the face of a young woman who accidentally splashed a drink on him. Well worth seeing, and a must for noir fans. [TCM]
Another excellent low-budget film noir from Anthony Mann. Dennis O'Keefe is stewing away in a San Francisco prison, sent there for his part in a robbery which was masterminded by Raymond Burr, who kept all the money and set O'Keefe up to take the fall. Burr sends O'Keefe's moll, Claire Trevor, to break O'Keefe out of jail; Burr assumes that they won't actually get past the guards or the cops, but they do, which makes Burr nervous enough to send thug John Ireland out after them. Meanwhile, O'Keefe has stopped by the home of his social worker, Marsha Hunt, with whom he's gotten friendly, to get some help so he can face off with Burr, claim the money owed to him, and escape to Panama. Hunt tries to turn him in but he ends up taking her with them, setting up an occasionally tense on-the-road triangle. There's an incident at a mountain cabin involving a wife killer that has little to do with the plot except to add tension and show us that, for a crook, O'Keefe is basically an OK guy. Ireland catches up to them one night at a beachfront fishing supply store (a nicely atmospheric building) and after O'Keefe is double crossed by the store owner, fierce fisticuffs and gunplay ensue and Hunt saves O'Keefe's life. He sends her away so she won't get in any more trouble, but Burr's men snag her and get the message to Trevor that they'll torture her if he doesn't come in from the cold, so to speak, on Burr's terms. Trevor is torn: she wants O'Keefe for herself, but also realizes that Hunt is in a jam not of her own making. The well played finale, on fog-shrouded Corkscrew Alley, has violent fighting, a dangerous fire and excellent cinematography. This movie is a keeper all around, from the solid acting, especially from O'Keefe, Trevor, and Burr, to its shadowy look (thanks largely to cinematographer John Alton), to the tense tone which is kept up throughout. The film includes a famous shot of Burr throwing a flaming dessert dish in the face of a young woman who accidentally splashed a drink on him. Well worth seeing, and a must for noir fans. [TCM]
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
T-MEN (1947)
So many of the best film noirs [yeah, it should be films noir, but to me, the phrase "film noir" is a singular noun] were B-films, and there must be a reason for that; maybe the fact that noirs, in both looks and tone, were pretty much the exact opposite of the kinds of movies mainstream Hollywood was producing, and that shadows and darkness could cover up cheap sets. At any rate, this movie from the Poverty Row unit Eagle-Lion is definitely among the top rank of noirs, though it's been largely unsung until its recent release on DVD. Directed by Anthony Mann just after RAILROADED, this documentary-style film (complete with voice-over narration) follows two Treasury agents (Dennis O'Keefe and Alfred Ryder) on assignment to crack a major West Coast counterfeiting ring. The two create personas as the last free members of a jailed Detroit gang and they spend some time setting up their backstories by getting in good with a slimy thug named Vantucci (Anton Kosta, doing a great job creating a memorable character in just a few scenes) before heading out to Los Angeles. Armed with almost perfect plates (the work of an arrested crook), they're looking to infiltrate the gang that is using almost perfect paper for their counterfeit cash. Their first contact is a mostly washed-up guy known as the Schemer (Wallace Ford, also giving an excellent, fleshed-out performance) who leads them to a bunch of middlemen (including one woman). The agents make some progress to a point, until their covers almost get blown and they must race against time when they realize that the gang's chief engraver can identify their plates. The acting here is quite good all around from leads to bits, including June Lockhart in a brief scene as Ryder's wife who, realizing that Ryder is incognito, tries to perform damage control when a family friend blithely chats him up in front of the thugs. Mann does wonders with the shadowy noir look, aided by cinematographer John Alton, using contrasting darkness and light, odd angles, and deep focus; one standout scene has a character facing death in a steamroom. Overall, this may be the least B-looking B-movie I've ever seen. Highly recommended. Though Mann was best known for noirs and westerns, he did a wide assortment of films (THE GLENN MILLER STORY, FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE) later for bigger studios. [DVD]
So many of the best film noirs [yeah, it should be films noir, but to me, the phrase "film noir" is a singular noun] were B-films, and there must be a reason for that; maybe the fact that noirs, in both looks and tone, were pretty much the exact opposite of the kinds of movies mainstream Hollywood was producing, and that shadows and darkness could cover up cheap sets. At any rate, this movie from the Poverty Row unit Eagle-Lion is definitely among the top rank of noirs, though it's been largely unsung until its recent release on DVD. Directed by Anthony Mann just after RAILROADED, this documentary-style film (complete with voice-over narration) follows two Treasury agents (Dennis O'Keefe and Alfred Ryder) on assignment to crack a major West Coast counterfeiting ring. The two create personas as the last free members of a jailed Detroit gang and they spend some time setting up their backstories by getting in good with a slimy thug named Vantucci (Anton Kosta, doing a great job creating a memorable character in just a few scenes) before heading out to Los Angeles. Armed with almost perfect plates (the work of an arrested crook), they're looking to infiltrate the gang that is using almost perfect paper for their counterfeit cash. Their first contact is a mostly washed-up guy known as the Schemer (Wallace Ford, also giving an excellent, fleshed-out performance) who leads them to a bunch of middlemen (including one woman). The agents make some progress to a point, until their covers almost get blown and they must race against time when they realize that the gang's chief engraver can identify their plates. The acting here is quite good all around from leads to bits, including June Lockhart in a brief scene as Ryder's wife who, realizing that Ryder is incognito, tries to perform damage control when a family friend blithely chats him up in front of the thugs. Mann does wonders with the shadowy noir look, aided by cinematographer John Alton, using contrasting darkness and light, odd angles, and deep focus; one standout scene has a character facing death in a steamroom. Overall, this may be the least B-looking B-movie I've ever seen. Highly recommended. Though Mann was best known for noirs and westerns, he did a wide assortment of films (THE GLENN MILLER STORY, FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE) later for bigger studios. [DVD]
Sunday, January 21, 2007
BREAKFAST IN HOLLYWOOD (1946)
This second feature is worth seeing for its novelty, based as it is on a popular radio talk show of the 40's of the same name, hosted by Tom Breneman. The show itself, which I've never heard, seems to have been a lot like Art Linkletter's House Party on TV in the 50's, with music, interviews, and audience chat. The movie uses the show as a focal point for four narrative threads. The main story concerns a budding post-war romance between Minnesota girl Bonita Granville and Minnesota soldier Edward Ryan. They meet cute at the radio broadcast, done during breakfast at Breneman's restaurant and night club; she's been waiting since the end of the war to hear from her fiance, but Ryan happens to know that the cad is now married to someone else. The finale is all about Breneman getting the cops involved in a scheme to get the two together. The other plotlines also concern audience members at the show. Zasu Pitts has worn a crazy hat, because a regular part of the show has Breneman picking the craziest hat in the room and donning it, but gossip columnist Hedda Hopper upstages her, so much so that Spike Jones and his band perform a song about her hats. Beulah Bondi is an old lady who wins the "oldest audience member" award, gets involved in a car accident outside the restaurant, and seems to be on death's door until Breneman enlists her in his plan to get the lovebirds together. In the oddest plotline, Billie Burke is a housewife who goes to the show while her husband (Raymond Walburn) sets up a rendezvous with a couple of sweet young things. A comedy of errors ensues (Walburn is the one who almost hits Bondi) but by the time Burke and Walburn wind up together again, I didn't care about them at all. The radio show segment is the best part of the film; the rest, despite being comedic, all feels a bit gloomy, and the low budget is obvious, though the actors are all fine, especially Bondi. Nat King Cole's trio gets a couple of low-key numbers. [DVD]
This second feature is worth seeing for its novelty, based as it is on a popular radio talk show of the 40's of the same name, hosted by Tom Breneman. The show itself, which I've never heard, seems to have been a lot like Art Linkletter's House Party on TV in the 50's, with music, interviews, and audience chat. The movie uses the show as a focal point for four narrative threads. The main story concerns a budding post-war romance between Minnesota girl Bonita Granville and Minnesota soldier Edward Ryan. They meet cute at the radio broadcast, done during breakfast at Breneman's restaurant and night club; she's been waiting since the end of the war to hear from her fiance, but Ryan happens to know that the cad is now married to someone else. The finale is all about Breneman getting the cops involved in a scheme to get the two together. The other plotlines also concern audience members at the show. Zasu Pitts has worn a crazy hat, because a regular part of the show has Breneman picking the craziest hat in the room and donning it, but gossip columnist Hedda Hopper upstages her, so much so that Spike Jones and his band perform a song about her hats. Beulah Bondi is an old lady who wins the "oldest audience member" award, gets involved in a car accident outside the restaurant, and seems to be on death's door until Breneman enlists her in his plan to get the lovebirds together. In the oddest plotline, Billie Burke is a housewife who goes to the show while her husband (Raymond Walburn) sets up a rendezvous with a couple of sweet young things. A comedy of errors ensues (Walburn is the one who almost hits Bondi) but by the time Burke and Walburn wind up together again, I didn't care about them at all. The radio show segment is the best part of the film; the rest, despite being comedic, all feels a bit gloomy, and the low budget is obvious, though the actors are all fine, especially Bondi. Nat King Cole's trio gets a couple of low-key numbers. [DVD]
Friday, January 19, 2007
ADVENTURE IN MANHATTAN (1935)
A cute romantic comedy/mystery, not as gloriously screwball as the early Thin Man movies, but fun, with an effective star pairing in Joel McCrea and Jean Arthur. McCrea is a well-known crime reporter, hired by editor Thomas Mitchell, who wants him to find a big story to sell lots of papers ("If you can involve a woman and a haunted castle...," says Mitchell). McCrea, who is sure that a supposedly dead jewel thief named Barlea is behind a recent rash of jewel thefts, sees himself as a dispassionate observer who never lets emotion get the better of him. One evening, Arthur, a down-on-her-luck woman, robs him in a desperate attempt to get a makeover so she'll look good when she meets her young daughter, whom she hasn't seen in years. McCrea's defenses are weakened and he not only helps her out, he accompanies her to the reunion. I won't say exactly what happens then, but most astute viewers will have guessed that things are not what they seem, and in fact Arthur is an actress who is helping a gang of reporters pull a prank on McCrea to burst his heartless rep. He's a good sport, however, and he hits it off with Arthur, and with the producer (Reginald Owen) of a play she's in, not realizing that Owen is actually Barlea and is using the production of the play (a WWI drama with lots of battlefield noise) as a cover to have his men tunnel into the bank next door to get away with a priceless diamond. McCrea makes a very precise and public prediction about when the bank will be robbed, and he's right, but Owen cancels the plan, leaving McCrea disgraced and jobless. The theft does eventually get pulled, and as this is a comedy, McCrea also gets the upper hand, in a somewhat roundabout way. There are some plot holes here and there, but the movie works remarkably well, with its fun twists and turns, and solid acting by all. Not to diminish the leads, who have good chemistry, but Owen steals the show with his sly performance. An entertaining find from the unplumbed depths of the Columbia Pictures catalog which Turner Classic Movies seems to have licensed (thank goodness!) at least temporarily. If they run it again, catch it! [TCM]
A cute romantic comedy/mystery, not as gloriously screwball as the early Thin Man movies, but fun, with an effective star pairing in Joel McCrea and Jean Arthur. McCrea is a well-known crime reporter, hired by editor Thomas Mitchell, who wants him to find a big story to sell lots of papers ("If you can involve a woman and a haunted castle...," says Mitchell). McCrea, who is sure that a supposedly dead jewel thief named Barlea is behind a recent rash of jewel thefts, sees himself as a dispassionate observer who never lets emotion get the better of him. One evening, Arthur, a down-on-her-luck woman, robs him in a desperate attempt to get a makeover so she'll look good when she meets her young daughter, whom she hasn't seen in years. McCrea's defenses are weakened and he not only helps her out, he accompanies her to the reunion. I won't say exactly what happens then, but most astute viewers will have guessed that things are not what they seem, and in fact Arthur is an actress who is helping a gang of reporters pull a prank on McCrea to burst his heartless rep. He's a good sport, however, and he hits it off with Arthur, and with the producer (Reginald Owen) of a play she's in, not realizing that Owen is actually Barlea and is using the production of the play (a WWI drama with lots of battlefield noise) as a cover to have his men tunnel into the bank next door to get away with a priceless diamond. McCrea makes a very precise and public prediction about when the bank will be robbed, and he's right, but Owen cancels the plan, leaving McCrea disgraced and jobless. The theft does eventually get pulled, and as this is a comedy, McCrea also gets the upper hand, in a somewhat roundabout way. There are some plot holes here and there, but the movie works remarkably well, with its fun twists and turns, and solid acting by all. Not to diminish the leads, who have good chemistry, but Owen steals the show with his sly performance. An entertaining find from the unplumbed depths of the Columbia Pictures catalog which Turner Classic Movies seems to have licensed (thank goodness!) at least temporarily. If they run it again, catch it! [TCM]
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
WHISPERING SMITH (1948)
An above-average western with a detective movie slant, given A-film treatment (including lovely Technicolor) by Paramount. Alan Ladd is the title character, a railroad cop who is back in his old frontier home town on the trail of the notorious Barton brothers. In a big shoot-'em-up, Ladd guns one down, but is seriously wounded by the surviving brother (Murvyn Vye), who escapes but remains in hiding nearby. Ladd is taken care of by his old friend, railroad worker Robert Preston, and his wife, Brenda Marshall, who was an old flame of Ladd's. On the surface, Ladd's homecoming is just peachy for all, but Marshall lets Ladd know that Preston has changed since he's been friendly with shady rancher Donald Crisp. Ladd wonders how Preston can afford the recent expansion of his ranch on a railroad worker's pay, and soon we find out that Preston and Crisp are in cahoots with Vye in carrying out train lootings. When Preston is caught by the railroad boss carting away too much undamaged booty from an accident scene, he's fired; he gets his revenge (with some help from Crisp's men) by embarking on a series of nighttime derailments and thefts. Ladd lets Preston know that he knows what's going on and gives him a chance to disentangle himself from Crisp's influence, but Preston doesn't take it, sealing his fate in a final showdown. The actors are all good here; Ladd makes for a particularly laconic gunslinger, reminding me a bit of Jack Beutel in THE OUTLAW (except Ladd has more talent and personality); Preston has energy to spare as a nice guy gone bad, who seems to still have a genuine affection for his old buddy; Marshall, in one of her last starring roles before retiring at the age of 35, is good if a bit underused. A strong supporting cast includes William Demerest and Fay Holden (Andy Hardy's mom) as wise old friends of Ladd's, Will Wright as an ineffective sheriff, John Eldredge as the unlikable railroad boss, and Frank Faylen, completely unrecognizable under a grotesque blond wig as Crisp's chief (and very creepy) gunman. [TCM]
An above-average western with a detective movie slant, given A-film treatment (including lovely Technicolor) by Paramount. Alan Ladd is the title character, a railroad cop who is back in his old frontier home town on the trail of the notorious Barton brothers. In a big shoot-'em-up, Ladd guns one down, but is seriously wounded by the surviving brother (Murvyn Vye), who escapes but remains in hiding nearby. Ladd is taken care of by his old friend, railroad worker Robert Preston, and his wife, Brenda Marshall, who was an old flame of Ladd's. On the surface, Ladd's homecoming is just peachy for all, but Marshall lets Ladd know that Preston has changed since he's been friendly with shady rancher Donald Crisp. Ladd wonders how Preston can afford the recent expansion of his ranch on a railroad worker's pay, and soon we find out that Preston and Crisp are in cahoots with Vye in carrying out train lootings. When Preston is caught by the railroad boss carting away too much undamaged booty from an accident scene, he's fired; he gets his revenge (with some help from Crisp's men) by embarking on a series of nighttime derailments and thefts. Ladd lets Preston know that he knows what's going on and gives him a chance to disentangle himself from Crisp's influence, but Preston doesn't take it, sealing his fate in a final showdown. The actors are all good here; Ladd makes for a particularly laconic gunslinger, reminding me a bit of Jack Beutel in THE OUTLAW (except Ladd has more talent and personality); Preston has energy to spare as a nice guy gone bad, who seems to still have a genuine affection for his old buddy; Marshall, in one of her last starring roles before retiring at the age of 35, is good if a bit underused. A strong supporting cast includes William Demerest and Fay Holden (Andy Hardy's mom) as wise old friends of Ladd's, Will Wright as an ineffective sheriff, John Eldredge as the unlikable railroad boss, and Frank Faylen, completely unrecognizable under a grotesque blond wig as Crisp's chief (and very creepy) gunman. [TCM]
Monday, January 15, 2007
SUMMER STOCK (1950)
Despite starring two of MGM's greatest musical stars, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland, this is a generally underrated musical, perhaps because Garland was not at her energetic peak (this was her last film for the studio), perhaps because the "Hey, let's put on a show in the barn" storyline was pretty worn by 1950, perhaps because there are no really memorable melodies here (except, of course, for the tacked-on finale, "Get Happy," which is a prime Garland career highlight). Still, this movie is great fun, and as far as I'm concerned, it shows Gene Kelly at his sexiest. The movie begins with Garland looking frumpy as the keeper of a family farm which is falling on hard times; she hasn't been able to pay her workers, so they have all deserted her except longtime cook Marjorie Main. Garland has been promised in marriage to allergy-ridden doofus Eddie Bracken, son of the general store manager (Ray Collins), though clearly she does not love him. One of the reasons Garland stayed with the farm was to raise money to put her sister (Gloria DeHaven) through art school, but when Sis shows up, it turns out she's flunked out and joined up with a troupe of actors, led by Gene Kelly, who have shown up out of the blue to take over the farm for the summer as a rehearsal space for a prospective Broadway show. Garland is unhappy about hosting the large group of young people, but finally agrees as long as they all put in their share of work around the farm each day. Things start out well, and there's a lot of funny business involving the kids learning how to do things like milk the cows and collect the eggs, but soon Phil Silvers messes up by wrecking the brand new tractor that Garland had finagled out of Bracken's father. Garland is heartbroken and ready to kick everyone out, but Kelly sells his own station wagon to buy her a new tractor, and she lets them all stay. Slowly, Garland finds herself charmed by Kelly, and vice versa, and when DeHaven decides she's too good for the troupe and leaves for a better prospect, Kelly talks Garland into taking over her role. There are more complications, involving Bracken's jealousy and DeHaven's sudden return, but it all works out to our satisfaction, climaxing with Garland's great "Get Happy" number.
I'll get rid of the liabilities first, and there are really only two. The lesser one is that it is clear that Garland is not at the top of her game--she was going through a rough patch, physically and emotionally--but she still has plenty of charisma and voice, and is perfectly acceptable in the role of the pragmatic farmer who is converted to the more whimsical charms of the theatrical life. The real stinker here is Silvers, whose heavy-handed comic style sinks every scene he's in. Luckily, the film's strengths outweigh its weaknesses. The group dance numbers are well staged, and all of Kelly's dances are great fun, especially his athletic "Dig for Your Dinner" and the later dance he appears to improvise as inspired by a squeaky stage floorboard. Overall, Kelly was better in SINGIN' IN THE RAIN, but here, he's as handsome and sexy as he gets; even in a song he does in a silly blond hillbilly wig and blacked-out teeth, he's hot. Garland's opening number, "Howdy Neighbor," sung as she's running errands on a tractor, is corny but has grown on me through repeated viewings. Bracken is fun, as always, and other support comes from Hans Conreid as the "name" star who has agreed to do the show and Carlton Carpenter as a gangly dancer. Lots of fun, though when they invent software that will allow us to replace performers in movies, I'll snuff out Silvers and replace him with, oh, Mickey Rooney or Donald O'Connor, or even Carlton Carpenter. [DVD]
Despite starring two of MGM's greatest musical stars, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland, this is a generally underrated musical, perhaps because Garland was not at her energetic peak (this was her last film for the studio), perhaps because the "Hey, let's put on a show in the barn" storyline was pretty worn by 1950, perhaps because there are no really memorable melodies here (except, of course, for the tacked-on finale, "Get Happy," which is a prime Garland career highlight). Still, this movie is great fun, and as far as I'm concerned, it shows Gene Kelly at his sexiest. The movie begins with Garland looking frumpy as the keeper of a family farm which is falling on hard times; she hasn't been able to pay her workers, so they have all deserted her except longtime cook Marjorie Main. Garland has been promised in marriage to allergy-ridden doofus Eddie Bracken, son of the general store manager (Ray Collins), though clearly she does not love him. One of the reasons Garland stayed with the farm was to raise money to put her sister (Gloria DeHaven) through art school, but when Sis shows up, it turns out she's flunked out and joined up with a troupe of actors, led by Gene Kelly, who have shown up out of the blue to take over the farm for the summer as a rehearsal space for a prospective Broadway show. Garland is unhappy about hosting the large group of young people, but finally agrees as long as they all put in their share of work around the farm each day. Things start out well, and there's a lot of funny business involving the kids learning how to do things like milk the cows and collect the eggs, but soon Phil Silvers messes up by wrecking the brand new tractor that Garland had finagled out of Bracken's father. Garland is heartbroken and ready to kick everyone out, but Kelly sells his own station wagon to buy her a new tractor, and she lets them all stay. Slowly, Garland finds herself charmed by Kelly, and vice versa, and when DeHaven decides she's too good for the troupe and leaves for a better prospect, Kelly talks Garland into taking over her role. There are more complications, involving Bracken's jealousy and DeHaven's sudden return, but it all works out to our satisfaction, climaxing with Garland's great "Get Happy" number.
I'll get rid of the liabilities first, and there are really only two. The lesser one is that it is clear that Garland is not at the top of her game--she was going through a rough patch, physically and emotionally--but she still has plenty of charisma and voice, and is perfectly acceptable in the role of the pragmatic farmer who is converted to the more whimsical charms of the theatrical life. The real stinker here is Silvers, whose heavy-handed comic style sinks every scene he's in. Luckily, the film's strengths outweigh its weaknesses. The group dance numbers are well staged, and all of Kelly's dances are great fun, especially his athletic "Dig for Your Dinner" and the later dance he appears to improvise as inspired by a squeaky stage floorboard. Overall, Kelly was better in SINGIN' IN THE RAIN, but here, he's as handsome and sexy as he gets; even in a song he does in a silly blond hillbilly wig and blacked-out teeth, he's hot. Garland's opening number, "Howdy Neighbor," sung as she's running errands on a tractor, is corny but has grown on me through repeated viewings. Bracken is fun, as always, and other support comes from Hans Conreid as the "name" star who has agreed to do the show and Carlton Carpenter as a gangly dancer. Lots of fun, though when they invent software that will allow us to replace performers in movies, I'll snuff out Silvers and replace him with, oh, Mickey Rooney or Donald O'Connor, or even Carlton Carpenter. [DVD]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
