LORD LOVE A DUCK (1966)

This is one of those darkly comic satires of the 1960s that probably felt wild and crazy at the time but now feels forced and weird. High school senior Roddy MacDowell (who was in his mid-30s at the time of filming) is a loner and a misfit who calls himself "Mollymauk," after an extinct bird, and who, when excited, starts squawking like a bird. On the day before classes begin, he befriends fellow senior Tuesday Weld (22 at the time) and commits himself to helping her make her dreams of stardom come true. (Is he straight and in love with her, or gay and fascinated by her? I was never sure.) He helps her get the twelve cashmere sweaters she needs to own to join an exclusive girls' club, pushes her into marriage to a young and handsome marriage counselor (Martin West) who works with a minister at a drive-in church, and arranges for her to meet a beach movie producer who has never actually been on a beach (his latest movie: "I Married a Teenage Vampire") so she can get a part in his next flick. When West proves to be an obstacle to her plans, McDowell goes after him, eventually with a bulldozer, and the movie falls apart.

This is all over the map, satirizing everything it can, but never striking very deeply—or coherently. Everyone—kids, adults, free spirits, squares, parents, educators, the church—is made to look silly, leaving no real moral center. For a while, it seems like MacDowell might be a "holy innocent" or perhaps a devil, but I could find no evidence that he's anything more than just an unhinged guy who is good at hypnotism which he uses on a few people. MacDowell and Weld (pictured above) are too old to be playing high school students. I could buy them as college students, which is a compliment to MacDowell who didn't look 18 but also didn’t look over 30, and there seems to be no good reason why they're supposed to be teenagers rather than 20-somethings. Having said that, the actors give themselves whole-heartedly to this mess, with Weld in particular doing a nice job—and looking quite beautiful. Martin West, apparently best known for playing a popular doc on General Hospital, is wholesomely handsome and does a nice job as Weld's clueless husband; Lola Albright is good as Weld's mom; Harvey Korman plays the principal. Good old Ruth Gordon (pictured at right) steals her scenes as West's feisty mother. The craziest (and most uncomfortable) scene has Weld picking out 16 colorful sweaters with her father (Max Showalter), both in states of nearly orgasmic bliss. My favorite line: Weld's major is "adolescent ethics and commercial relationships." Very strange indeed; a must-see only for hardcore fans of 60s movies, or fans of Weld. [TCM]

REVOLT OF THE SLAVES (1960)

Around the year 300, the emperor Maximium, in the midst of a crackdown on Christians, surrounds himself with African protectors rather than the traditional Praetorian guards, who might be too sympathetic to the Christians to trust completely.  The slave Vibio attacks one of the Africans in the streets after witnessing an escaped slave get his hands cut off as punishment. Before Vibio can be harmed, he is bought by Claudius, a Roman patrician. He has a daughter, the saucy Fabiola, and a niece, the more demure Agnes. Agnes is "dating" Valerio but seems to be sweet on Sebastian, so the jealous Valerio has Corvino, head of the Emperor's secret police, spy on her. One night, posing as a cripple, Corvino follows her to a mass meeting at a villa and finds out that she and Sebastian are secret Christians, as is Vibio. Against her better judgment, Fabiola helps Agnes and the others hide, and begins to fall for Vibio. Soon, however, most of the Christians are exposed and rounded up to be slaughtered in the arena, forced to provide practice for gladiators with spears. Vibio leads some men in an attempt to break into the arena from the catacombs beneath, but will they make it in time?

Though marketed as a sword-and-sandal beefcake epic, this Italian film is actually an unofficial remake of DeMille's SIGN OF THE CROSS—officially it's a version of a novel called Fabiola—and not a bad one at that. It's well filmed and has spectacular sets, good use of color, and a compelling (if familiar) narrative. The only name star here is Rhonda Fleming (as Fabiola) and, though she's a smidge too old for the part, she still shows some star power. Though the film is definitely not in the Hercules mold of Italian action movies of the era, there is still a fair amount of male pulchritude on display, especially from the handsome Lang Jeffries (pictured at right, at the time married to Fleming) as Vibio and Burt Nelson as the muscled Christian Catulo. There is also whipping and torturing and some bloody spearing. Serge Gainsbourg, better known in Europe as a singer, songwriter, and father of Charlotte Gainsbourg, is fine as Corvino. The events of the movie are based loosely on actual events during the reign of Diocletian—the African guards, the martyrdoms of Sebastian (with arrows) and Agnes—and I'm not sure why they used a fictitious name for the Emperor. Overall, I quite liked this, despite 1) the fact that everyone's dialogue is post-dubbed; and 2) the occasional bizarre line, as when Fleming, upon seeing her father's new mechanical clock, says, "This is the limit!" See it in widescreen. [Netflix streaming]

THE GREEN HORNET (1940 serial)

This 13-part serial was the first visual representation of the radio crimefighter whose place in the superhero pantheon would be solidified by the short-lived 1960s TV series. Britt Reid (Gordon Jones) has just inherited his late father’s newspaper, the Sentinel. The police miss his father’s habit of running hard-hitting editorials which took on the local rackets, and his secretary Casey (Anne Nagel) doesn’t think much of Britt's playboy-type hours. But soon ace reporter Jasper Jenks (Phillip Trent) is on to a story about a dam being built with inferior materials, and sure enough, the dam fails and kills several people, and Reid does an about-face, deciding to expose shady dealings. The police commissioner tells Reid that the city needs a Robin Hood, not knowing that they're about to get one in the figure of the Green Hornet, a shadowy vigilante who wears a mask and drives around in a car called the Black Beauty that makes a hornet-buzz noise.

Yes, Britt is the Hornet, helped by his Korean manservant Kato (Keye Luke), and for the next 12 chapters, the two of them try to find out who is the chief mastermind behind various city rackets, most of which involve forcing companies (trucking companies, airlines, dry cleaners, zoos) to pay protection money or risk becoming the victims of sabotage. Crime boss Monroe (Cy Kendall) orchestrates the threats and mayhem, guided by a mysterious voice that calls in to Monroe’s office every so often and gives instructions to the gang members. The Hornet and Kato track down the bad guys, using a gas gun that emits a puff of smoke that knocks people out, allowing the Hornet to tie them up and leave them for the cops. But the police (along with the newspapers and the public) aren't sure if the Hornet is a good guy or a bad guy, so Britt and Kato usually wind up being chased by police and crooks alike. In a couple of scenes, even Axford, Britt's tough Irish bodyguard (Wade Boteler), tries to give the Green Hornet an ass-whupping, not realizing it's his boss beneath the mask.

The narrative structure gets a bit monotonous: a company is hit by the bad guys, life-threatening sabotage happens, Green Hornet and Kato come to the rescue, the Sentinel exposes the racket, and the crooks try another angle. But that comes with the territory of the serial genre. Production values here are fairly cheap, with some occasionally effective use of stock footage. Perhaps the most surprising moment comes at the very end when the bad guys wind up shooting each other to death. Gordon Jones (pictured) makes for a good hero, though apparently his voice when he has the Hornet mask on is dubbed in by the actor who played the Hornet on the radio. Luke, in the role that helped make a star of Bruce Lee, doesn't have much to do except drive the Black Beauty and save Reid's neck once in a while (though he does get at least one karate chop in). Poor Anne Nagel has even less to do, just sitting at a typewriter or passing along phone messages. Worth seeing for serials fans. [TCM]

THE SCAR (1948)
aka HOLLOW TRIUMPH or THE MAN WHO MURDERED HIMSELF

John Muller spent a couple of years in medical school before becoming a con man—his tricks included selling stock in non-existent oil wells and scamming people by posing as a psychiatrist. He was caught, sent to prison, and upon his release, he goes right back to his cronies. Upset that they haven’t been more ambitious, Muller gets them to join him in robbing a gambling joint run by a thug named Rocky. Things don't go well; two of them are killed and two escape, including Muller.  On the run from Rocky's men, Muller leaves town and gets a 9-5 job as a clerk, but when he's mistaken on the street for a psychiatrist named Bartok, he investigates and discovers that he is a dead ringer for the doctor, except for a scar the doc has on one side of his face. Evelyn, Bartok's long-time secretary and lover, gives him a passionate kiss before realizing he's not Bartok. Muller gets news that the third thug is dead, and soon finds himself hunted by two gunmen, so he takes drastic action: using a photograph of the doctor as a model, he gives himself a deep cut on his face to match Bartok's scar, then kills Bartok and takes his identity.  But a couple of dark ironies set in. First, he scars the wrong side of his face—the photo had been accidentally flipped when printed. To his amazement, most people don't notice, only the lowly cleaning lady; it even takes Evelyn a while to figure it out. Next, as he's settled into Bartok's life, he discovers that the doctor is also being hunted down for having big gambling debts. Evelyn decides to leave the whole situation behind and go to Hawaii, and Muller asks to come along, but with two parties wanting him dead, what are the odds that he'll make it to the steamship?

This is a low-budget but beautifully shot (by Oscar-winner John Alton) film noir that perhaps tries to cram a little too much story into its 80-minute running time. But that is one of its few faults. Paul Henreid, not one of my favorite actors, does a nice job in the lead, playing two fairly unlikeable people. Joan Bennett (pictured with Henreid) is very good as Evelyn, enough so that I'm sorry she doesn’t get more screen time. Henry Brandon is uncredited but memorable as one of Muller's crooks. Eduard Franz has a small role as Muller's brother, and old reliables John Qualen and George Chandler also pop up. The noir aspect is present in the look (lots of darkness, skewed angles, and occasional distortions in close-ups) and in the ironic plot twists. This was originally released as HOLLOW TRIUMPH, but is currently available on DVD as THE SCAR on a film noir double feature set from VCI.  A little-known film, but worth finding for noir fans.  [Netflix streaming]

LES BICHES (1968)

Sexy upper-class blonde Frederique (Stephane Audran) sees a waifish sidewalk painter named Why (Jacqueline Sassard) at work and tosses a 500 franc note down in front of her. They stroll and chat a bit, then Frederique takes Why home, gives a her bath, and one thing leads to another. The two head off to Frederique's summer place at St. Tropez where they share a house with two gay guys (it took me a while to figure this out; they seemed like just fun-loving whimsical friends at first) who alternate between being charming and being irritating. One night, an attractive man named Paul (Jean-Louis Trintignant) makes eyes at Why and takes her home. The jealous Frederique then sets her cap for Paul, playing a flirtatious game with him which causes him to miss a date with Why. The game-playing gets to be too much for Why who begins to snap, making herself up to look like Frederique and talking to herself in the mirror. One drunken night, Paul is flirting with both women, calling them his "does" (hence the title, which has nothing to do with "bitches"), but it's Frederique he takes to bed, leaving Why outside the bedroom door, her obsessive thoughts building as she plans her revenge against Frederique. This is a sexy Hitchcockian thriller that deals with issues of sexual obsession, jealousy and identity, though in far more ambiguous ways that Hitch ever did; it's a little like Bergman's PERSONA done French new-wave style. The characters are mostly ciphers, with Paul being the one who comes off the most straightforward, and a little more background for the two women (pictured, Audran in front) would have helped humanize the characters—as it is, they all come off as game pieces being moved around by the director, Claude Chabrol. It's all very cold and brittle (the one exception being Dominique Zardi who seems to be having fun as one of the gay men), but the acting is good, particularly by Audran, and fans of psychological thrillers will find enough to enjoy here. [DVD]

THE SEA BAT (1930)

Our story takes place on Portuga Island in the West Indies where there is, we are told, "the weird chant of voodoo worship" by night and "the weird industry of sponge fishing" by day. We meet a motley group of rough-edged men who work in the boats and live together in a large barracks. The banes of their existence are the "sea bats," the shark-sized manta rays that frequent the waters. Lovely Nina gives her handsome brother Carlo a charm to ward off the ray, but instead he winds up wearing a cross given to him by a priest, and when Carlo is killed in a ray attack, Nina blames his embrace of Christian symbolism; she turns to voodoo ritual and offers a reward to any man who will catch and kill the sea bat. What she doesn't know (but we do) is that the real reason Carlo died is because the slimy Juan, who resented Carlo for standing in the way of him wooing Nina, put a rock on his line so he couldn't make it up to the ship when the ray attacked. Meanwhile, a new priest, the Reverend Sims, arrives on the island, and Nina expresses her resentment of his faith. What she doesn't know (but again, we do) is that Sims is actually a criminal on the run from Devil's Island. Slowly, Sims and Nina fall in love, and Sims wants to take off with her to start over, but Juan (and the sea bat) may put a kink in their plans.

This early talkie is interesting for a few reasons: 1) Boris Karloff (pre-FRANKENSTEIN) has a small role; 2) the heroine (Raquel Torres, pictured above) spends a chunk of the movie wearing only a very wet and sheer blouse—this was in the pre-Code era when hints of nudity weren't unheard of; 3) the ray attack early in the movie feels a lot like the shark attack at sea in JAWS. Charles Bickford is only OK as Sims, Torres a little bit better, but John Miljan is fine as the slimy Juan, and Nils Asther is very good as Carlo, though he's killed off fairly early. Many reviews of this film refer to Asther and Torres and lovers, but, though their scenes together do have a strange intensity, I'm fairly certain that it is made clear that they are brother and sister. Memorable line: Bickford, seeing Torres dancing in a voodoo ritual: "What kind of white girl are you?" [TCM]

THE MOON AND SIXPENCE (1942)

This interesting but flawed adaptation of Somerset Maugham's novel based loosely on the life of artist Paul Gauguin opens with a scene of the writer Geoffrey Wolfe (Herbert Marshall, playing a thinly disguised Maugham as he did a few years later in THE RAZOR'S EDGE) wandering about his apartment, washing and getting dressed and talking to us (as his butler picks up after Wolfe) about a famous artist named Charles Strickland. In flashback, we see that Strickland (George Sanders) is a quiet, unassuming stockbroker until one day when he picks up out of the blue, leaves his wife and children, and goes to Paris.  His wife Amy assumes the cause is another woman, but when Wolfe goes to Paris to talk to Strickland, he discovers that Strickland has left to become a painter. He has no qualms about leaving everything and everyone behind—when Wolfe asks if he doesn't care for his wife anymore, Strickland replies, "Not a bit." Strickland paints but winds up on the edge of starvation until a good-natured painter named Dirk (Steven Geray), who sees the potential in his work, takes him in; Strickland repays him by taking Dirk's wife from him. When Strickland tires of her, she kills herself. Eventually the restless, penniless Strickland heads off for Tahiti where he finally finds some measure of happiness, married to an undemanding native woman and painting to his heart's content until he contracts leprosy. After he dies, his wife, obeying his wishes, burns the hut that contained his final paintings.

I know nothing about Gauguin and I have not read Maugham's novel, but this film adaptation is striking in at least one respect: it is the rare Hollywood film in which the lead character is a nasty, unrepentant shit who isn't really redeemed by the end. There is a final title card, inserted certainly to get around the Production Code, which calls him out for ignoring his wife and children and notes that all of his talent couldn't "hide the ugliness of his life, an ugliness which finally destroyed him." (The real Gauguin died of syphilis, which would have been a more punishing ending for the movie, but that would most certainly have been a Code no-no.) George Sanders is always good playing cads (MAN HUNT, CONFESSIONS OF A NAZI SPY, THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR, THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY, and most fabulously and perfectly in ALL ABOUT EVE) and he doesn't disappoint here—he's the main reason for watching. The character of Strickland remains unexamined so we get little depth in the portrayal, but that's a problem with the writing—and I'm not even sure it’s a problem, as I imagine that's how the passive, recording eye of Maugham rendered Strickland in the novel. Marshall (pictured to the left of Sanders) plays Maugham with a little more zest than he did in THE RAZOR'S EDGE. Geray is believable and heartbreaking as the man willing to be stepped on and betrayed by someone he saw as an artistic genius. The restored print I saw on TCM was in a mild sepia tone, which shifted to a bright yellow in the Tahiti scenes (though everyone looked like they had jaundice) and full color for just a moment when we see Strickland's final paintings, full of bare-breasted women but without anything approaching Gauguin’s style. [TCM]

THE RECKLESS MOMENT (1949)

It’s Christmastime in California. Joan Bennett, a middle-class wife and mother who lives in Balboa and whose husband is overseas on business, heads in to Los Angeles one day to confront Shepperd Strudwick, the lover of her teenage daughter (Geraldine Brooks), a first-year student in art school. Strudwick is a slimy thuggish guy, considerably older than the daughter, and he tells Bennett he'll leave Brooks alone in exchange for money. Bennett refuses and tells Brooks what happened; she doesn't believe her mother and arranges to meet Strudwick that night in their boathouse. He admits to asking for a pay-off, she hits him and storms off. He loses his balance and falls to the beach below, impaled on an anchor. The next morning Bennett finds the body and, thinking that her daughter killed him, disposes of it in the sea. Strudwick's body is found but there appears to be no connection to Bennett's family until a blackmailer (James Mason, pictured with Bennett) arrives with love letters written by Brooks to Strudwick. Mason and his boss (Roy Roberts) want $5,000 for them, but Bennett has a hard time getting that amount of money. The lower-class Mason falls for Bennett and tries to get Roberts to lay off, but to no avail. How far will Mason go to protect Bennett, the love object he can never possess?

This Max Ophuls film noir has nighttime scenes and a few of his trademark long-take camera moves (with occasional snatches of overheard dialogue here and there) and is generally a good-looking film with good performances all around. The tentative relationship that grows between Bennett and Mason actually seems real, which gives the ending some tragic weight. Strudwick is especially good in a relatively small role. Henry O'Neill is Bennett's well-meaning father-in-law. There's a strange running joke about Bennett's teenage son (David Bair) never having enough clothes on—no shirt, bare feet, shorts at night. Brooks is a weak link, but that’s partly due to the underwritten role. This, based on a short story, was remade a few years ago as THE DEEP END with Tilda Swinton; the updated twist is that the child she's trying to protect is her gay son. Both versions are worth seeing. [TCM]

CLOUDBURST (1951)

In post-war London, John Graham heads up a code-breaking unit still working on deciphering enemy messages for use in war crimes trials. We learn that he is a Canadian veteran, has a wife named Carol who is pregnant with her first child, and has a photographic memory. John and Carol take her sister Peggy to the train station one rainy night and on the way home, Carol is killed, the victim of a thuggish hit-and-run driver and his girlfriend. John is devastated and when the police seem unable to find the killers, he uses his memory for details and his connections with old wartime friends to track them down. But rather than take what he knows to the police, he decides to take revenge himself and plots to kill them both. This was an early release from Hammer, the studio best known for their horror films of the 60s; this isn't horror but it is awfully close to film noir, and may be one the earliest uses of a likable anti-hero in film (with the possible exception of some of Cagney's leads in the Warner gangster movies of the 30s). Robert Preston does a nice job as Graham, an admirable man whose sense of morality is twisted by his wife's death—it doesn't help that Carol (Elizabeth Sellars) had a limp which happened when she was tortured while working with the resistance, and her stoicism in that situation helped save John's life. His tracking down of the guilty parties (Harold Lang—pictured above to the right of Preston—and Sheila Burrell) is shot in classic noir style and the film works up some good tension as we actually root for John to get his revenge even as we realize he's going to have to pay somehow. An added complicating element is a coded message he accidentally drops at the scene of a murder he commits and which is brought to his code-breaking unit by the police. The message itself has nothing to do with the murder, but it remains a conscience-poking plot element in the background, as John's people can't figure out the code but John knows he's going to have to break it himself eventually. Highly recommended. [Netflix streaming]

A NIGHT AT THE RITZ (1935)

Shown as part of a Turner Classic Movies tribute to William Gargan, this sad-sack comedy confirms my theory that some actors just weren't meant to be leading types. Gargan is fine as a sidekick (in movies like THE SPORT PARADE) but as a lead, even in a short B-film like this, he generally just doesn't have the stuff--though I did enjoy him in the earlier HEADLINE SHOOTER.  Of course, it doesn't help that the movie is badly written and directed. Gargan is a hotel PR man who is desperate to create some buzz for his new employer, the Ritz. To impress a young lady he's sweet on (Patricia Ellis), he hires as head chef her brother (Erik Rhodes), who claims enthusiastically to be a great cook. What Gargan doesn't know (and what his sidekick Allen Jenkins finds out) is that Rhodes' cooking actually makes people nauseous; it's the Old-Country mother (Bodil Rosing) who makes the delicious meals. There is a great deal of frantic movement and shouting, but little of it makes any real impression. The plot could have worked, but the weak acting of the romantic leads and the bland direction sink it without a chance. Jenkins does what he can to liven things up, but it's really a lost cause. The only reason to sit through this is Erik Rhodes (pictured; the guy who can't quite remember the phrase "Chance in the fool's name for fate" in THE GAY DIVORCEE), who is excellent as the clueless but good-hearted numbskull chef. [TCM]

JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR (1973)
GODSPELL (1973)

Jesus was having quite a cultural moment in the early 70s. The term "Jesus freak" (referring to the young folks who were embracing a counter-cultural image of Christ) was in vogue, the Campus Crusade for Christ was a growing organization, a book about the Rapture was on the bestseller lists, and the pop charts were home to some explicitly Christian songs like "Put Your Hand in the Hand" and new versions of "The Lord's Prayer" and "Amazing Grace." JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR and GODSPELL were two hit musicals which also also gave birth to hit pop songs--"Superstar" and "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from the first, "Day By Day" from the second, and were both made into movies, neither one completely successfully.

I have fond feelings for both works because I came upon them in my high school and college years. As a teenager, I was already a lapsed Catholic (though I was still expected to attend church every Sunday until the middle of my college years) but I had a girlfriend who was a born-again Christian, and I was interested in the ins and outs of theology, so both works appealed to me. I saw the staged versions of both shows and became a fan of both, but was disappointed in the films. The movie of JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR, which is a sung-through "rock opera," was set in the Holy Land, with a troupe of actors arriving out in the middle of nowhere to get into costume, put up sets, and act out the story of the Passion. The show, the first collaboration of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, was groundbreaking not just because of the rock music, but because Judas is sort of the leading man, a figure presented as complicated, conflicted, and, so I think, more interesting that Jesus. The movie retains the wonderful score, and the leads, Ted Neely as Jesus (pictured) and Carl Anderson as Judas, were charismatic enough. But the rest of the cast, especially the Romans, aren't up to the task of acting like actors who are lost in roles (I think that's what they're supposed to be), and the singing, despite the presence of a couple of people from the original album, is not up to snuff, with the force of the dramatic songs feeling weakened. Even the big "Superstar" number, which should have been a highlight, is bungled by the director, Norman Jewison, who in my eyes also bungled the screen version of FIDDLER ON THE ROOF.

GODSPELL was a smaller-scale, Jesus-as-hippie show, the gospel of Matthew presented as a series of gentle soft-rock songs and blackout sketches, mostly joyous until the inevitable downer of Jesus' death. I saw the show live several times and the Jesus-freak sincerity, catchy melodies, and transcendent ending always moved me without quite converting me. The movie is set in New York City with a handful of folks frustrated with the hectic pace of their day hearing the call of a scruffy John the Baptist's shofar and "dropping out," following John and Jesus (in a Superman t-shirt and rainbow pants) to a variety of locations in the suddenly deserted city (including the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park and the still-under-construction World Trade Center). They act out a variety of parables and sing about grace and salvation, without any real narrative until the Last Supper and Crucifixion (up against a fence with red ribbons tied to Jesus' wrists to symbolize blood, I imagine). At dawn, they carry his body through the still-deserted city, turn a corner, and suddenly vanish as the city is just as suddenly repopulated.

That ending is a very nice effect, and one of the few moments that really works in the movie. Victor Garber, as Jesus, is very good, and one of the few cast members who went on to have a strong acting career (also Lynne Thigpen, perhaps best known as the Chief on the Carmen Sandiego TV shows, and David Haskell as John and Judas, who did quite a bit of television). The rest of the cast is fine, but the fact that everything, the songs and the dialogue, was post-synced hurts a bit, and frankly, a lot of potential for either cute or profound touches was wasted--the settings and direction both feel a bit slapdash. Both of these movies were trying to adapt to film what were originally very theatrical experiences, and neither film finds the right balance between artifice and realism. Both are easy to sit through, especially at Easter, but the original albums still work best. [DVDs]

SINS OF JEZEBEL (1953)

In the 9th century BC, King Ahab (Eduard Franz) rules Israel and is planning to take Phoenician princess Jezebel (Paulette Goddard) as his queen, much to the dismay of his people, specifically the prophet Elijah (John Hoyt) who foresees that she will replace worship of the One True God with idolatrous worship of the god Baal, and if that happens, drought and unrest will plague the land. Ahab says that's nonsense and sends loyal warrior Jehu (George Nader) to meet her when she approaches the palace; she is quite taken with him, even deciding to ditch her advisor and his men and ride into town with just Jehu. The very day she meets Ahab, she seduces Jehu, and soon both men are under her spell; Jehu distances himself from his girlfriend Deborah, and Ahab does indeed let Jezebel set up a temple to Baal. Sure enough, drought follows. Baal's followers call upon him for rain, but it isn't until Elijah prays to Jehovah that the drought ends. A pissed-off Jezebel puts a price on the head of Elijah, and threatens to kill one of his followers each day that he remains at liberty, though Elijah foretells the day when Jezebel will be eaten by dogs. Will Jehu break free of Jezebel's spell and help his people defeat Baal's followers?

This is kind of fun in a campy way; it wants to be a big DeMille-type epic, but with a very low budget, the big action scenes are kept off-camera and told rather than shown, especially at the climax. The outdoor locations (undoubtedly in California) make the Holy Land look more like the Old West, and the sets are sparse and cheap-looking. A song of praise to Baal sounds like a Weavers folk song. The film is in color but over the years it's gotten a bit faded and murky. The acting is generally weak: Goddard, in her 40s, is attractive but not especially sexy or vibrant, though at her best she sounds like Katherine Hepburn; Nader, at 32, is stoically handsome (pictured with Goddard) but looks rather put-upon and unhappy. Franz lacks energy, which leaves Hoyt to ham it up and give the movie some juice as the doomsaying prophet. He also plays the film's narrator, a present-day Biblical scholar who is relating the story of Jezebel in a classroom, though when he leaves the room at the end, it's hinted that maybe he actually is Elijah (?). Joe Besser, who became one of the Three Stooges in the 50s, has a comic relief role as Master of Chariots, though his screen time is mercifully brief. [DVD]

THE TWONKY (1953)

A philosophy professor (Hans Conreid) bids farewell to his wife, who is off to visit her sister. As she leaves, she warns him that a new-fangled appliance, a television set, will be delivered soon. She hopes it will keep him company, but when it comes, it does more than that: it walks around, shoots a beam from its screen which lights his cigarette, puts dishes away, and produces a stack of dollar bills. It turns out the TV is inhabited by a spirit from the future and all it wants to do is meets Conreid's needs, even though Conreid is freaked out and keeps trying to get rid of it—as in the song, "The Cat Came Back," the TV keeps returning no matter what, even when Conreid puts it in a car and tries to drive it off a cliff. The inspiration for this low-budget fantasy comes from a 1942 short story which focused on a walking radio. Perhaps ironically, the film has the look and feel of a TV show. Things begin well, with Conreid giving a relatively nuanced performance—in one of his rare leading roles—as a mildly absent-minded professor, and the potential for satire on the way in which television can take over our lives is present, but the movie takes a sharp turn for physical humor after the first half-hour and it goes downhill, playing out like a series of uninspired vaudeville sketches. The supporting cast is not strong; Janet Warren is OK as the wife, and Joan Blondell's sister Gloria has a small role as a sexy bill collector, but Billy Lynn drags down the proceedings (he was in his 60's at the time of filming and died before the movie came out) playing a college football coach who comes up with the name "Twonky"—a name to use when you don't know any other name—and who, through bizarre plot machinations, winds up sleeping over in Conreid's house. This leads to one of the better scenes, in which four husky football players try to destroy the TV and wind up zombified, each chanting, "I've got no complaints." The Twonky itself (pictured) is a cheap puppet-like prop; it's fun to watch for a few minutes, but it quickly wears out its welcome. Conreid, a very familiar TV face, tries his best and is the main reason to see this oddity. [TCM]

BLACK ORCHID (1953)

John Winnington is a doctor who is paying more attention to his research than to his more lucrative private practice. He is also ignoring his bored wife Sophie, who has a number of male admirers hanging around her at parties. When Sophie's sister Christine arrives to work with John, the two find themselves attracted to each other, and Sophie, with the use of a detective, builds a case against them as grounds for divorce. The day the divorce is finalized, also the day that Sophie plans to leave for Cape Town, John finds out that the law will not allow him to marry his ex-wife's sister unless the ex-wife dies. Later that day, on her way to the ship, Sophie collapses and dies, apparently a victim of poisoning. Circumstantial evidence points to John, and when he's found guilty, Christine and John's friend Eric frantically try to find the real culprit. Could it be whichever admirer of Sophie's gave her a black orchid on the morning of her death? This British B-crime thriller is nothing special but is short and sweet, on the level of a decent TV show. There is no atmosphere at all—no one would ever mistake this for a film noir—and the lead performance of Ronald Howard (Leslie Howard's son) as John is passionless. However, the other actors are fine, especially Mary Laura Wood as the conniving Sophie, the handsome John Bentley as Eric, and Sheila Burrell as Sophie's neurotically devoted maid—think a less sinister Mrs. Danvers from REBECCA. There aren’t really enough characters here, so the identity of the killer is fairly obvious, and in the last 20 minutes, as things should be getting exciting, the film degenerates into scenes of Eric and Christine (Bentley and Olga Edwardes, pictured) driving and talking. [Netflix streaming]

THE CLINGING VINE (1926)

The head of the Bancroft Paint Company is T.M. Bancroft, but the board knows that the reason they are successful is T.M.'s secretary, Antoinette, known around the office as A.B. She hides her femininity under a short haircut and mannish clothes (including a button-down shirt, tie, and vest) and she gets things done in her busy office while the male executives loll about in T.M.'s office talking about golf. Her latest accomplishments: firing T.M.'s lazy grandson Jimmie and buying up some nearby land which has rich deposits of a mineral needed for coloring in paint. When another secretary tells A.B. she's getting married and leaving the business, A.B. says she's glad for her; she'll get to be "a happy wife instead of a sexless, loveless machine like me." At a working weekend house party at Bancroft's estate, Jimmie shows up to ask T.M. for his job back. When T.M. tells him he’ll have to patch things up with A.B., he scowls and later refers to her as a "dried prune" and a "flat-heeled, flat-chested Amazon." Unknown to him, she overhears him, and soon T.M.'s wife forces A.B. to submit to a makeover, not just in terms of looks and dress, but manners; A.B. is taught that she can’t be too smart ("A man wants a woman pretty enough to please him and dumb enough to love him") so she should learn to flatter and "twitter" and say things like "Aren't you wonderful?" and “Oh, do go on!" and generally be a clinging vine. She tests her new wiles on Tut, a confirmed bachelor, then goes to work on Jimmie, who has no idea that this lovely young woman is the notorious A.B. When Jimmie flirts back, she falls in love and even helps him get financial backing for a ludicrous egg-beating machine he's invented. But will he still want her when he finds out that she’s really A.B.?

This silent film contains many romantic comedy threads that remain active into the 21st century: hidden identity flings, a woman balancing romance and work, a boss's no-good relative bettering himself for love, and the makeover of the drab caterpillar into the sexy butterfly. Much of the narrative is predictable but there are a couple of surprises here. A.B. (Leatrice Joy) gets her man without having to give up her job—something that rarely happened in the classic movie era. Jimmie (Tom Moore, pictured above to the right of Joy) is not particularly young or attractive, or smart for that matter, and the boss is on A.B.'s side in his firing. T.M.'s wife (Toby Claude) is introduced as a grandma, but despite her age, she's vibrant and youthful in spirit—we see her exercising first thing in the morning, and when Jimmie arrives, she slides down the banister to greet him. Joy, married briefly to John Gilbert, is credited with helping the flapper bob cut become popular. Oddly, I think she's more attractive here in her mannish looks than when she's dolled up. [DVD]

THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM (1966)

When a British agent investigating a neo-Nazi group is killed, American secret agent Quiller (George Segal) is sent into Berlin by his handler Pol (Alec Guinness) to continue his work. He makes contact with Inge (Senta Berger), a teacher at a school where another teacher was exposed as a war criminal and killed himself. Soon Quiller is drugged, kidnapped, and taken to an unknown location to meet Oktober (Max Von Sydow), the neo-Nazi big shot, who tries to get information out of Quiller about his bosses, but despite torture and more drugs, Quiller doesn't break. Oktober orders him killed, but he wakes up in a canal--apparently Oktober changed his mind and released Quiller, assuming he'd lead them to his handler. Instead, Quiller goes to Inge who knows someone who knows someone, etc., and they soon find Oktober's headquarters in a dilapidated mansion. This time both Quiller and Inge are caught, and Oktober may be not be so willing to let anyone go this time.

Filmed at the height of spy-movie mania, this isn't quite the near-campy James Bond, nor is it quite the somber dread-fest of John LeCarre's The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, filmed the year before. With a screenplay by Harold Pinter, it's not surprising that the film's primary tone is that of ambiguity: Pol seems a bit sinister, even though he's a good guy; Oktober is the most interesting figure in the movie, even though he’s a 2-dimensional bad guy; and we're never quite sure what Inge's motivations are. As spy thrillers go, it's not a shoot-'em-up, but a tense atmosphere is kept throughout, even though Segal feels a bit lightweight for a spy—there are moments when I expected things to veer off to comedy, but it never really does—but Segal generally holds his own with Von Sydow (with whom he is pictured above) and Guinness. There are several fine setpieces: Segal's first meeting with Guinness in a stadium that had been the site of Nazi pomp; the torture scene; and a nicely set-up sequence involving a car bomb in which Segal is trying to throw the bad guys off of his track.  [FMC]

JUNGLE HEAT (1957)

In the fall of 1941, Glenn Langan comes to Hawaii with his wife (Mari Blanchard) to try and solve some labor problems at the sugar plantations. James Westerfield, a plantation owner, claims that an outside agitator has been causing accidents and slowdowns. Langan is revealed to be casually racist ("Chinese, Japanese, what's the difference?") and believes that the native workers should be treated like slaves because they're meant to be under the yoke of their betters. But the local doctor (Lex Barker) is sure that Japanese spies, working with Nazis, are responsible for the disruptions. Oddly, Westerfield's plantation is the one place where nothing bad has happened, and soon Barker, with help from Rhodes Reason, an Army officer (who is something of an outcast because he is married to a Japanese woman), discovers that there are indeed fifth columnists at work trying to prepare the islanders to bond with soon-to-arrive Japanese invaders. When Reason's wife is framed as a spy, and Blanchard finds herself attracted to Barker, the stage is set for confrontation. The climax occurs during the night just before the dawning of December 7th.

This B-flick hasn't generated much love from reviewers on IMDb, but I found it quite tolerable, if not much more so—a decent way to pass a lazy Saturday afternoon. Although Barker (a movie Tarzan) is the hero, Langan is more interesting to watch, giving a sweaty, slimy performance as a thoroughly unlikable villain—though actually, I suppose the real villain is Westerfield, and Langan is just a nasty piece of work. The subplot with Reason's interracial marriage gives the narrative a bit of heft which it is otherwise lacking since Barker is a fairly colorless lead and he and Blanchard don't work up much chemistry. The last shot, with Barker and Blanchard on the beach at dawn, is not to be missed. [DVD]

THE SPANISH GARDENER (1956)

British diplomat Harrington Brande is upset at his latest move, from Madrid to the less important coastal town of St. George. His career has stalled out, he believes, because of his messy divorce, though later he is told by his boss that, for all his academic credentials, it is his coldness and lack of humanity that keeps him back. Indeed, he loves his 11-year-old son Nicholas very much, but has a hard time showing it; he is overly protective of the boy, homeschooling him and keeping him away from companions his age because he's "delicate." At St. George, Brande hires a local gardener named José and soon Nicholas is outside helping José with his chores. The two form a close bond which makes Brande irrationally jealous. Eventually he forbids the two to talk to each other, but when Brande is called back to Madrid briefly, José and the boy go fishing together. That night, the drunken servant Garcia threatens Nicholas and he runs to José's house, spending the night there. When Brande arrives home, he is furious. To cement José's fate, Garcia frames José for the theft of Nicholas's watch. Brande has the gardener arrested and intends to press charges, but José escapes into the hills and Nicholas goes after him. When confronted with evidence of Garcia's guilt, Brande tries to do the right thing, but he may be too late.

Like THE FALLEN IDOL, another classic British film centered on a diplomat's son, this is about a child and his first experiences of disillusionment with the adult world. Nicholas believes his father loves him, but also misses his mother and, without knowing it, misses having friends. José sees what the father is doing and takes on the role of surrogate father, knowing he'll probably pay for it somehow. This being a character study, the acting is important and the whole cast is fine. Dirk Bogarde (pictured), at his youngest and most handsome, makes José a believable character, not just a plot device. Jon Whiteley is excellent as the boy, and Cyril Cusack is just as good as the slimy servant, who truly seems to be diseased and decadent, though he's not fleshed out enough for us to know why. But despite the title, this movie is really about the diplomat and he is embodied perfectly by character actor Michael Hordern who manages the difficult feat of seeming to be both a distant and smothering father. Some critics have suggested a homoerotic sheen to the relationship between José and Nicholas, perhaps because of the secretive nature of the friendship, though except for the fact that José is intended to be an earthy and sensual character, I don't see it. I do, however, see something a little strange in the makeup of Brande; we never find out why he and his wife are divorced, and when his boss explains why he's not getting a promotion, he tells him, "It is as a man that you fail." Mostly shot in England, but the Spanish exteriors are lovely.  [TCM]

ONE MORE RIVER (1933)

Lady Clair Corven has returned to England via ocean liner from Ceylon to escape her abusive husband—among other things, he beat her with his riding crop—and on the ship, she spent quite a lot of time with Tony, a young admirer. He's clearly in love with her, but she insists the friendship remain platonic. Clair's family, including her kid sister Dinny and influential uncle Sir Mont, accepts her with open arms and she starts a new life, getting a job as secretary to a local politician. But when Lord Corven returns, he wants her back; he promises that his sadistic behavior will end, but we can tell by looking at him that it's in his nature. She refuses him and continues to be squired about by Tony. Soon, Lord Corven hires a private eye to follow Clair and Tony and, when one night the two spend the night together in a broken-down car, he feels he has the evidence to begin divorce proceedings against her. Unsavory details come out that tarnish her reputation—did she, in fact, "reestablish the marital relationship" with Lord Corven one night when he visited her apartment? Could young healthy Tony really have controlled himself that night in the car? Will Clair free herself from her husband's clutches, and if so, can she find happiness with Tony (or does she even want to)?

James Whale directed this adaptation of a novel by John Galsworthy, and it is largely his sprightly stylistic touch that makes this more than just a turgid romantic melodrama. Diana Wynward, whose specialty was upper-crust sufferers, is OK as Lady Corven but sometimes is so veddy placid and stiff-upper-lip that it's difficult to feel much for her. The rest of the cast is solid: Colin Clive is exactly right at the villainous Lord Corven, the boyish Frank Lawton (pictured with Wynward) is equally as right as Tony, Jane Wyatt is a breath of spring as the sister, and Mrs. Patrick Campbell, the legendary stage actress who only made five films, is great fun as Lady Mont, who says what she likes (picture Maggie Smith in Downton Abbey); my favorite line is hers as she heads up the stairs to bed one night with a pain in her stomach—she announces loudly, "I don’t know if it's flatulence or the hand of God." Also with great character actors C. Aubrey Smith, Reginald Denny, and Henry Stephenson. The courtroom scene at the end is well played (Lionel Atwill is especially fine as the prosecutor), though the aftermath leading to a relatively happy ending is rushed.  [TCM]

THE BLACK BOOK (1949)
aka REIGN OF TERROR

A French Revolution story told like a film noir.  In 1794, Robespierre, calling himself the voice of the people, has instituted his Reign of Terror in the aftermath of the revolution, denouncing dozens of supposed villains and collaborators whose names he keeps in a secret Black Book. Robespierre can keep his hold on the Republic because no one knows who might be in that book to be arrested and executed next. When his former ally Danton is called out and killed at the guillotine, the few friends Robespierre has left, including Saint Just, Barras and Fouché, get nervous. Robespierre decides to have himself declared dictator at the next general assembly, in 48 hours, but his Black Book has gone missing and he calls in Duval, known as the Butcher of Strasbourg, giving him absolute power to find the book before his enemies do, worrying that they will band together to fight him. However, Duval is actually Charles D'Aubigny, a spy working for Lafayette, and he and his underground cohort, the lovely Madelon, must deal with the shifting loyalties of those around them, and the growing suspicions of Robespierre, as they try to get hold of the Book for themselves.

This is probably not historically accurate, but it is a damned good spy thriller: fast paced, exciting, well-acted (though no one really even tries for a French accent), and beautifully photographed in the deep shadows of film noir by John Alton and director Anthony Mann. The biggest surprise is how good the usually lightweight comic actor Robert Cummings is as Duval/D'Aubigny; I wouldn't have thought he'd have the gravitas to play the hero of a historical action thriller, but he pulls it off nicely. He also pulls off the movie's best line, in character as the executioner Duval, explaining why he opposes death by guillotine: "What this country needs is an elegant slow death; give a man four hours to die—it's worth watching." As good as Cummings is, Richard Basehart (pictured) steals the show as the vicious Robespierre, always stoic and cruel. Arlene Dahl is satisfactory as Madelon, and the solid supporting cast includes Arnold Moss as the tricky Fouché, Jess Barker as Saint Just, Norman Lloyd as another underground spy, and Beulah Bondi as a rural grandmother who gets caught up in the intrigue. The fairly low budget is hidden by the inky shadows, the claustrophobically low ceilings, and the reliance on close-ups on faces: sweaty, distressed, grimacing. I’d never heard of this film before TCM showed it; it's in the public domain and available from a number of video companies, though the print quality is quite variable. An excellent little gem.  [TCM]