20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH (1957)

Sicilian fishermen find a huge rocketship floating nose down in the sea and manage to save two men from the wreckage, and a young boy named Pepe finds a cylinder with a gelatinous slug-like thing in it and hides it on the beach. One of the men dies in pain from some kind of skin rash, but Calder (William Hopper) survives. It turns out that the men on the spacecraft had just returned from a secret flight to Venus, and the icky thing in the cylinder is the egg of a Venusian life form. In the meantime, the boy has sold the cylinder to a local zoologist, and in his lab, the creature is born, a muscled reptilian thing that looks like a miniature Godzilla. It quickly outgrows the cage it's kept in, escapes, and goes on a rampage looking for sulfur, which it feeds on, before it's captured using electrified netting and penned up in the Rome zoo. A steady electrical charge keeps it calm but when the equipment fries out, it escapes (again) and goes on a rampage (again), this time battling an elephant in the streets of Rome and winding up in the ruins of the Colosseum where it meets its fate. The last line, spoken in front of the dead monster: "Why is it always so costly for man to move from the present to the future?"—a line that doesn't seem earned as a moral for this particular tale.

This film featuring the meticulous stop-motion animation work of Ray Harryhausen was shot in black & white, so while it may not be as impressive looking overall as some of his later color movies (Jason and the Argonauts, The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, etc.), this features one of his greatest creatures. Critics often refer to the monster as the Ymir because that's what it was called in early versions of the script, but that name is never used on screen. The creature manages to be both brutal and somewhat sympathetic—after all, it had no choice in being brought to earth, and its rampages seem to be mostly about getting food, not just trashing a town like Godzilla or being infatuated with a woman like King Kong. As usual with Harryhausen movies, the writing is on the weak side; the opening Sicilian scenes are promising but non-monster scenes get bogged down in an unsatisfying relationship between Hopper and the zoologist’s daughter (Joan Taylor). Still, this has enough action and good FX work to be a classic in the stop-motion monster genre. [DVD]

HI, GAUCHO! (1935)

In the Argentine, two wealthy families, the Bolarios and the Del Campos, are feuding over sales of horses to Americans. The Del Campo daughter Inez (Steffi Duna) is about to be given unwillingly, in a marriage arranged by her mother, to Don Salvador, an elderly man whom the Del Campos have never met. One afternoon, Inez is returning to her hometown and decides to have a siesta in her carriage, right in the middle of the road. The handsome Lucio (John Carroll) and his gang of gauchos come down the road to find it blocked by Inez's carriage. When the snooty Inez refuses to move, Lucio has his men pick the carriage up and move it to the side of the road, and parade on while singing their gaucho songs, which infuriates Inez. Of course, this is their "meet cute" moment, and soon they are in love, despite the fact that Lucio is the Bolario son—they even get a Romeo and Juliet moment when Lucio serenades Inez from below her balcony. Meanwhile, on the road into town, Don Salvador is kidnapped by the infamous outlaw Escurra; finding out about his engagement and discovering that the marriage will make Don Salvador the richest man in the land, Escurra takes Don Salvador's place and presents himself at the Del Campo estate. Lucio playfully snatches Inez away from her home, but to his horror, realizes it's actually her mother he has taken. She charges him with kidnapping and he goes on the run, but at a party celebrating Inez's coming marriage, this Romeo and Juliet story winds up with a happy ending, as Escurra is unmasked, Inez gets Lucio, and the two families reconcile.

Though I've written reviews for this blog for 18 years, it's only recently that I've realized a truth about some of these movies, such as this one. For lack of a better word, I’ll call them "multitask" movies. The movies themselves don't engage in multitasking (any more than any movie can be doing several things at once to or for a viewer), but I can multitask while watching them. These aren't necessarily bad movies, but they don't really need my full attention. I'm not the kind of person who puts on a movie, then goes out to the kitchen or does laundry—I stay on the couch, watch the movie and take notes, and if I have to leave the room, I pause the film. But during this one, I realized halfway through that I had the laptop open and was checking Facebook and looking at the weather forecast and searching for a pesto recipe online. I never got so involved with my other tasks that I lost the thread of the movie, but I also was obviously not fully engaged with the movie, despite the presence of John Carroll, one of my B-movie favorites. I put away the laptop, backed up the movie about ten minutes to make sure I hadn't missed anything (I hadn't), and gave all of my attention to Hi, Gaucho. Fifteen minutes later, the laptop was open and I was skimming information about the movie and the cast on IMDb.

And I guess that's OK. Most of these multitask movies aren't bad or boring, but they are predictably plotted and routinely acted, and straying a bit from the TV screen doesn't seem to hurt my experience of the movie. I followed the story, laughed at the humor, and the notes I'd taken seemed complete. Carroll, in his first starring role, is burdened by having to speak in an exaggerated Argentine accent, along with most of the rest of the cast, and I had a difficult time in the beginning understanding the dialogue. His leading lady, Steffi Duna, is Hungarian and was married to Carroll in real life—though not for long. She, like the other actors, is OK, not great but not terrible. Everything about this movie—story, acting, sets, music (the gauchos love to sing)—is completely average, which may be why I could multitask a bit while watching. If it was very good, I'd be riveted; if it was bad, I'd be writing notes about its badness and paying attention to see if it got better or worse; if it was awful, I'd have quit watching. I knew what I was getting into when I sat down to watch: an RKO B-film with an actor I like and a cast of people largely unknown to me. (Given the whimsical title, I was kind of expecting something funnier or campier, but no.) I expected a so-so film and I got one. If you're looking for a so-so film that will let you surf the web or think about your next meal on occasion, but that you won’t feel bad about watching, this is for you. [TCM]

SUCCUBUS (1968)

aka NECRONOMICON

We see Lorna on a stage, sexually teasing a tied-up and skimpily dressed man and woman. She eventually starts running a knife along their bodies as an audience watches, and then plunges the knife into the man. Then, applause, and all three take their bows; it's just an act in a decadent nightclub. Two men seem to be related in some way to her, as lovers (?) or therapists (?) or pimps (?). Light-haired Bill may be her agent, and claims that he is making Lorna into a disciple of evil; the dark-haired guy just hangs around looking menacing, but the two do seem to be in cahoots over becoming Svengali-like influences on Lorna, who eventually loses herself in a strange dream world of half-alive mannequins, orgies with people crawling on the floor wearing animal masks, seducing women, and stabbing her lovers in the eye or neck. And that's about it for a coherent narrative. At the end, we see Lorna with the two performers from the beginning, only this time she actually does kill them...or does she?

I don't typically review artsy-porny movies like this on my blog, but I was fascinated to come across this because I remember this film from my past. Not the film itself, but an ad for it that ran in our daily paper when I was 13. The movie was rated X (it would be an "R" today) and there was a phone number to call to find out the "full meaning" of the title. Instead of calling, I asked my mom what the word meant. She looked it up and said, "Well, I guess it means a female demon, dear!" There was a little more to it than that, I would discover later, as in, a demon who had sex with men. That's not really what seems to be happening here, but then again, who knows. There are dozens of online reviews of this movie out there; most give up on presenting a logical summary but go on to praise the film for its obliqueness and ambiguity. I have less praise for it. The director, Jess Franco, went on to become a cult figure in horror and sex B-films. At times, a David Lynchian surrealism seems to take hold but nothing comes of it. As far as acting goes, Janine Reynaud, as Lorna, is attractive. I enjoyed seeing a poster for Doctor Zhivago (in German as Doktor Schiwago) in the background of a scene. There is also a fun shot of some Aurora movie-monster models, the kind I put together when I first saw the ad for this film. Sex movie fans will be disappointed in the small amount of sexual activity—the opening (pictured above) is actually as sexy as the movie gets—and horror movie fans will wish for a better narrative. [Amazon Prime]

ROAD HOUSE (1948)

Richard Widmark, a blustery little tough guy, runs Jefty's Road House, a bowling alley/nightclub in a relatively rural Midwestern town.  Handsome nice guy Cornel Wilde, an old buddy of Widmark's, is the manager, and Celeste Holm is the office girl who is sweet on Wilde. Into this happy little family comes a serpent, sultry Chicago singer Ida Lupino. Wilde thinks she's bad news and tries to ship her right back to the big city, but she does an effective version of "One for My Baby" in her worn, battered voice—Holm says her voice sounds like gravel—and the customers love her (not to mention that Widmark develops a thing for her as well).  Soon, Wilde and Lupino are hot for each other; Holm picks up on this but Widmark does not, and he returns from a vacation with a wedding license for he and Lupino. When Wilde and Lupino they tell him about their attraction, Widmark is not only unhappy, he gets a little psychotic, framing Wilde for the theft of some money and getting the judge to release him to Widmark's care. When all four go up to Widmark's hunting lodge near the Canadian border, the shit hits the fan.

This noir-ish film plays out like a slightly less mannered GILDA, with the backstory setting Widmark in George Macready's role as the somewhat screwy benefactor to Wilde (Glenn Ford in GILDA). Being set in the woods and not quite having a femme fatale role, this may not exactly fit the noir template, but it sure looks and feels like one. (If GILDA is a film noir, so is this.) I'm not a fan of Wilde's but he’s OK here. Holm is also fine, but the real stars are Lupino and Widmark, doing the best at what they are known for—tough as nails gal for Lupino, slow-burning psycho for Widmark. I haven't reviewed many of his movies on my blog, but his presence is always a good sign. I need to revisit his breakthrough role in KISS OF DEATH one of these days. Pictured are Wilde, Widmark and Lupino. [DVD]

THE SELLOUT (1952)

Haven Allridge (Walter Pidgeon) is the well-liked, well-respected editor of the St. Howard News-Intelligencer. Just outside of town, across the county line, lives his daughter Peggy and her husband Randy, the county prosecutor. Burke, the county sheriff, is known for his corrupt ways and his iron hand in dealing with lawbreakers. One night after visiting Randy and Peggy, Allridge gives Jackson, a casual acquaintance, a ride home and is stopped for speeding. Allridge doesn't have his license on him so he's hauled into jail, as is Jackson, on the trumped-up charge of soliciting a ride. They're not allowed to make phone calls and both are thrown into a cell full of men who constitute a "kangaroo court" who extort money. When Jackson says he doesn't have any cash, they beat him up. The next morning, when Burke finds out who Allridge is, he is released but Jackson is kept in jail. Allridge makes a crusade out of the situation, writing about his experience and putting the reports of others similarly abused on the front page. Chick Johnson (John Hodiak), a lawyer from the state attorney general, arrives to investigate. Suddenly, however, the stories stop and Allridge vanishes. When he returns a few days later, he claims to have been out of town making arrangements to take another job, and he refuses to help Johnson. Has Allridge been bullied into silence, or has he sold out to Burke?

This film has a rather convoluted set-up—more plot points are developed along the way—though it remains easy to follow. But it's slow going and frankly, the stakes don't seem all that big; the person we feel the worst for is poor Jackson (Whit Bissell) who languishes in jail until a re-appearance in the climactic courtroom scene. I run hot and cold on John Hodiak (usually cold) but he's fine here as the heroic lawyer who has to figure out how to get Allridge to come clean. Pidgeon is his usual stuffy self, and Karl Malden is good as a cop who assists Hodiak. Thomas Gomez is nicely slimy as Burke, Everett Sloane shines as Burke's crooked lawyer, and Cameron Mitchell has the small but crucial role of the son-in-law; mostly he just stands around looking anxious. I watched this movie because Audrey Totter (pictured with Hodiak) is third-billed; she's very good but her part is surprisingly small and not essential to the plot. Watchable, but not particularly memorable. [TCM]

THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS (1953)

Operation Experiment (five screenwriters, three of them uncredited, couldn't come up with a better name?) is a secret Arctic expedition engaging in nuclear testing. After one atomic explosion is set off, the men at the base see something unusual on the radar but it vanishes quickly. While making observations near the site just before a blizzard approaches, George sees a huge dinosaur-like creature which creates an avalanche that buries him in snow. Tom (Paul Christian) goes looking for him, sees the creature, and barely escapes death. When he tells his story at a hospital back in the States, he is assumed to have been hallucinating—until a "sea serpent" is sighted off the coast of Nova Scotia, destroying a fishing boat. More sightings follow until the creature comes on shore and destroys a lighthouse in Maine. Paleontologist Thurgood Elson (Cecil Kellaway) determines that the monster is indeed a prehistoric dinosaur, a rhedosaurus. The theory is that the atom blasts have awakened the creature from hibernation and sent it on a rampage. Can a committed band of scientists and soldiers figure out how to stop the beast before it lays waste to New York City?

Though Godzilla is often thought of as the first atomic-age giant creature, this was released a year before the Japanese film and probably deserves to be called the grandfather of all such 'There’s a monster on the loose in the streets' movies. The plot is fairly threadbare—and would be copied slavishly for years—and the acting is just as good as it needs to be, but the special effects by Ray Harryhausen (his first credited work—as creator of technical effects—on a feature film) are spectacular, impressive even today. Indeed, having re-watched some of Harryhausen’s later movies recently, I'd say this stands with his very best. Paul Christian makes for a fairly boring hero; he left Hollywood soon after this and forged a lengthy career in Europe under his birth name, Paul Hubschmid. Paula Raymond is similarly wasted as the heroine, but supporting players such as Cecil Kellaway, Kenneth Tobey (who faced a different kind of Arctic monster in THE THING two years earlier), King Donovan and Donald Woods keep things bubbling. It was fun to see James Best (Sheriff Roscoe Coltrane in The Dukes of Hazzard) and Alvin Greenman (the young janitor at Macy's who is befriended by Kris Kingle in MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET) in small roles in the beginning as the radar men. Ray Bradbury gets a credit for original story, but only one short sequence—at the lighthouse—comes from him. More expensive effects and more explicit destruction followed in later years, but this is still well worth a viewing. [DVD]

THE TRAIL OF ’98 (1928)

In 1897, the steamer ship Excelsior arrives in San Francisco with news of the discovery of gold in the Klondike, in Canada east of Alaska; also on the ship is entrepreneur Jack Locasto (Harry Carey) who has already made a great deal of money—enough that his reputation has preceded him and gold-digging women are fighting over him--and when the Excelsior returns to Alaska, he's going back for more. As the siren call of a gold rush goes out, we see our cast of characters gathering. In South Carolina, a train engineer lets a young boy get on the train to San Francisco, and even decides he'll abandon the train and go with the lad to the Klondike. In Michigan, Lars (Karl Dane), a big Swedish man, runs away from his nagging wife and considers hopping on the train as it passes by; the engineer encourages him, saying, "Ain't no wives in the Klondike!" and Lars jumps on. In the desert, an old religious guy who calls himself Salvation Jim joins the train, and he and Lars and a devious fellow called The Worm bond. The Bulkeys, a middle-aged couple, want to start a restaurant for the gold prospectors, and young Brena (Delores del Rio), who will work with the Bulkeys, takes her blind grandfather along. As the Excelsior is being loaded up, a stowaway named Larry (Ralph Forbes) jumps on a mule that is being pulled up by a crane onto the ship and manages to evade the crew, finding a friend—and eventually a romantic partner—in Brena. Once they get to Alaska, however, the real journey begins as hundreds of would-be prospectors make their way across snow, ice, mountains and raging rivers to get to the Klondike—as a title card notes, "Into the wilderness of ice, the gold-mad army was dumped."

This silent movie is notable for its recreations of the trials and tribulations of the prospectors, most of whom are not successful. There was some location shooting, though most of the snowy mountain scenes were shot in Colorado in below-freezing temperatures. The scene of the rapids was shot in Alaska and apparently a couple of stuntmen were carried off by the river and never found. An avalanche scene is particularly well done. Though not actually a disaster movie, it does follow some of the conventions of the genre: diverse people and plotlines thrown together, some romance, some melodrama, a little comic relief, and some death and devastation. The climax here does not involve any natural disaster, but an intense fistfight that leads to fiery destruction, and it's a real thriller of a climax. The acting is fine; this late in the silent era, acting had become more naturalistic with less of the exaggerated emotions you would find in earlier films. Forbes and Dane are especially good, as is young Johnny Downs in the limited role of the runaway boy (whose sad fate is presented in an admirably non-melodramatic fashion). Though technically not a talkie, there is, in addition to a musical score, a synchronized soundtrack full of crowd noises and special effects sounds, so it's almost never really "silent"; even folks who don’t think they would like a silent movie might take to this one. Pictured are Forbes and del Rio. [TCM]

THE DUKE IS TOPS (1938)

Singer Ethel Andrews (Lena Horne) is the star of a low-rent traveling show called Sepia Scandals that is touring small towns in the dying days of vaudeville. Her boyfriend, Duke Davis (Ralph Cooper, pictured at left with Horne), the show's producer, gets a visit from talent scout George Marshall—he thinks that Ethel could hit the big time in New York City on her own. Duke hems and haws, but when he is convinced that Marshall's offer would be good for her, he agrees to let her go. She's reluctant to leave him but when he pretends that Marshall has bought her contract and that he's letting her go for the money, she leaves thinking that Duke feels nothing for her. Duke winds up getting a huckster job with Doc Dorando's medicine show, and he's good at selling the fake elixir. Meanwhile, Ethel has proven to be a flop as a solo at the fancy Century Club in Manhattan; someone says of her, "She’s a specialty, not a star!" When Duke finds out, we know he'll try to help her, but the question is, how?

The plot of the B-movie "race" film (i.e., with an all-black cast) is pretty standard showbiz-romance stuff. It was shot in 10 days and looks it. But it's important for one reason: it's Lena Horne’s first movie. But what's interesting is that Horne isn't herself yet, not the screen star she would become. She’s attractive but not beautiful, presentable but not glamorous, and a little awkward before the camera. Her voice is certainly fine but it's not the versatile instrument we came to know. What happened between this film in 1938 and her first starring role (in CABIN IN THE SKY) in 1943 was Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, which signed her up and undoubtedly put her through its "star school" like it did with Judy Garland, Debbie Reynolds and countless other starlets that MGM wanted to make into stars. On its own, this movie is best enjoyed for its specialty numbers: a vigorous dance workout from Rubberneck Holmes, a cute production number called "Blackberry Baby," and especially for a performance by a four-man band called Cats and the Fiddle, pictured right, of a song called "Killin' Jive"—not only does it sound a lot like a 30s Ink Spots song called "That Cat is High" (later performed by the early Manhattan Transfer), it's about the same subject matter. Sample lyrics: "When you're high, man/You're sailin', man/You'll be so mellow/Just like a jello…When you smoke that killin' jive." Ralph Cooper (known for a time as the "Dark Gable") gives the movie's best performance as Duke (despite what I assumed for years, this movie has nothing to do with Duke Ellington), and Laurence Criner is fun as the trickster Doc Dorando. It's worth seeing for fans of 30s B-films, but don't expect Horne to be the star she became a few years later. [TCM]

HAROLD TEEN (1934)

It's graduation time at Covina High School and Harold Teen, a grad from last year who has a job at the local paper as a cub reporter (and general errand runner), has been asked to give an inspirational speech to the new grads while they're having their class picture taken. He manages to double-talk his way through the speech, but he's really there to give his girlfriend Lillums Lovewell a bottle of perfume that he spent so much on, he's missed his car payment, and the car is repossessed right there at the school. Lillums loves the perfume, but she drops the bottle and it shatters in the gutter. In scenes at the local malt shop and other places in town, we meet the rest of the characters: his short buddy Shadow, his silver-tongued rival Lilacs, a fat guy named Tiny, and Lillums' folks, who are in danger of losing their house due to the closing of the bank. Enter new bank president H.H. Snatcher and his sex kitten daughter Mimi. Harold interviews Snatcher for the paper, but gets lightheaded from smoking a cigar that Snatcher offers him. For some reason, Snatcher takes a liking to the boy, and he takes more than a liking to Lillums, which disgusts Mimi—who herself makes a play for Harold. However, Pa Lovewell thinks it might be OK if Snatcher were to marry Lillums since the banker might save their mortgage. When Mimi starts up a local Junior Set social group to put on a summer show, she gets Broadway choreographer Ed Rathburn to help out—the very Ed Rathburn from whom Harold has been taking dancing lessons by mail. This sets the stage for Lillums to break up with Harold because of Mimi, then decide she wants him after all. The stage show climaxes with a "Collegiate Wedding" scene during which all is set right.

Harold Teen was a long-running comic strip centered on the title teenager, and as anyone with a passing knowledge of 20th century pop culture will figure out, Harold is a forerunner of Archie Andrews. Lillums is Betty, Shadow is Jughead, Mimi is Veronica, Lilacs is Reggie, Snatcher is Mr. Lodge (if Lodge had designs on Betty), and both strips have a malt shop owner named Pops. This movie is an interesting novelty, combining small-town teen shenanigans with musical numbers influenced by Busby Berkeley, and the two elaborate production numbers are the high points of the film. The finale wedding number is fine, but an earlier song at the malt shop ("How Do I Know It's Sunday?") is even better. There is cute use of period teen slang: calling a pretty girl "lamb’s lettuce," referring to a friend as "palsy-walsy," and using the all-around brush off, "Aw, go peel a banana!" I also enjoyed some clever dialogue. Clumsy dancing boy to his irritated partner: "Honey, who's gonna take you home tonight?" Partner: "The undertaker if you don't stop squeezing me!" Another dancing boy: "Do you like to dance with French heels?" Girl: "I've never met any!" And the general observation, "Girls with pep give me the jitters!"

The acting is just as good as it needs to be. Hal Le Roy, as Harold (top left), was a tall, skinny Broadway dancer whose movie career never took off, but he's fine here; not too handsome, not too smart, but sweet enough to win Lillums' heart by the end. Shadow is played by Eddie Tamblyn, pictured with Le Roy, father of Russ Tamblyn (Riff in West Side Story). Familiar supporting players include Chick Chandler as Lilacs, Douglas Dumbrille as Snatcher, Guy Kibbee and Clara Blandick as the Lovewells, and an understated Hugh Herbert as Rathbrun. This is sprightly B-budget fun. A sequel might have worked, except the film ends with Harold and Lillums getting married for real: imagine the Archie comic books continuing with Archie married to Betty. Best not to go there. [DVD]

THE POWER (1968)

At a research center in California, George Hamilton is heading a space project looking into how much pain a man—potential astronauts—can stand. But during a committee meeting, it becomes clear that one of the committee members may well possess a strong mental power, strong enough to cause objects to move simply by force of mind. When one committee member is found dead, spun to death in a huge centrifuge, the idea comes up that the person with this power may be a kind of "superman" using his powers to disrupt the research. After another death, suspicion points to Hamilton, so he begins investigating to clear his own name. What begins as an interesting science-fiction story turns into a run-of-the-mill, episodic mystery/thriller, albeit with some odd touches here and there, like a scene in which toy soldiers appear to come to life. Director Byron Haskin gives the film a nice 60s sheen. The acting is lackluster all around except for Hamilton and, in a small role as a menacing creep, Aldo Ray. Other players include Suzanne Pleshette, Michael Rennie, Richard Carlson and Gary Merrill. The editor of Famous Monsters of Filmland, Forrest J. Ackerman, has a cameo. Pictured is George Hamilton. [TCM]

APOLOGY FOR MURDER (1945)

Wealthy businessman Harvey Kirkland is engineering a merger with a company run by his old friend Craig Jordan. Jordan's not happy about it, and in fact is overheard making a veiled threat of violence against Kirkland, but he realizes he has to accept the offer. Reporter Kenny Blake (Hugh Beaumont, at right), who has a kind of love-hate relationship with his editor, comes to the Kirkland residence hoping to get an interview and is rebuffed, but he winds up flirting with Toni (Ann Savage), a young woman whom Kenny assumes is Kirkland's daughter. After a one-afternoon stand, she tells him she's actually Kirkland’s wife, frustrated over being stuck in a bad marriage. The old man fights her attempts at divorce, so she tells Kenny she's decided to kill her husband, but she needs Kenny to help her. Initially shocked, Kenny soon warms to the idea and the two engineer an elaborate plan to kill him and make it look like his car went sliding off a treacherous mountain road. After some complications, the two pull it off, but when the police discover that there are no tire tracks and the ignition in the car was off, they suspect foul play. So does Kenny's editor.

Though it may not be crystal clear from that summary, you can tell by the 10-minute mark that this is an unauthorized remake of DOUBLE INDEMNITY, the classic film noir made the year before. Young totsy wants to get rid of frustrating husband, seduces lust-dumb guy into helping her, then more or less dumps him while his boss begins to put two and two together. Here, the dumping is more explicit—after the murder, Toni seduces a lawyer to help her get a better deal out of her dead husband's estate—and an innocent man (Kirkland’s caretaker) winds up being found guilty of the murder, putting more pressure on the typically decent Kenny to find a way out of the nightmare he's in. This film even copies the tic from the earlier film of having Kenny's boss lighting Kenny's cigarettes for him. Hugh Beaumont is a B-movie Fred MacMurray (and both men would find lasting fame playing sit-com dads on TV, Beaumont on Leave it to Beaver, MacMurray on My Three Sons. Oddly, in this movie, Beaumont’s editor is named Ward, which would be the name of Beaumont's character on Beaver.) At one hour, this moves fairly quickly, but the constant callbacks to Double Indemnity don't do this film any favors. Beaumont is OK, though Savage (known for her hardened femme fatale part in DETOUR) operates at half-strength, diminishing some of the impact of the film. It's kind of fun, but ultimately disappointing. [YouTube]

THE WHITE TOWER (1950)

A couple of years after WWII, the young and lovely Alida Valli arrives in the small Swiss town of Kandermatt where her father, a famous mountain climber, died trying to climb a famously formidable mountain dubbed The White Tower. She is in town to attempt to climb it herself but her old friend (Oscar Homolka), a mountain guide, tries to talk her out of it, saying that she won't get enough locals to make up a good climbing team. But a group of men staying the same inn where Valli stays eventually agree to head up the mountain with her, some just to carry packs and stay at base camp, some to go all the way. The group includes a middle-aged alcoholic writer (Claude Rains) who is working on finishing a novel but whose wife constantly belittles him; an older scientist (Sir Cedric Hardwicke); an athletic German climber (Lloyd Bridges) whom we discover still subscribes to the Nazi ideology of the 'superman'; the faithful Homolka; and a handsome American bomber pilot (Glenn Ford) who was shot down over Switzerland during the war and has returned as something of a drifter. Of the group, Ford is the most reluctant, but he is attracted to Valli and decides to go because he's jealous of Bridges' attentions to Valli. Once they get going, however, various concerns (Rains' health and the booze he's brought along) and conflicts (American vs. Nazi—when they take a vote about slowing down their ascent, Bridges says dramatically, "To rest is not to conquer") weigh them down almost as much as the supplies they've brought. There is also fog and bad weather to contend with, not to mention the very dangerous final passage to the top.

I had avoided this film over the years because I run hot and cold on Glenn Ford; I tend to like him in his earlier films, but not so much later on. But this one, coming not long after his breakout role in GILDA, is one of his better performances. His character arc resembles that of Bogart's in CASABLANCA—at first, he seems passive, not caring much about others, or even much about himself, but the trip up the mountain changes him. Ford was in his early 30s when he made this, and he's about as attractive as he ever was in movies; both he and Alida Valli get lots of glamour close-ups throughout (she is billed as just Valli, like Garbo). The two make a nice pair, and the rest of the cast is strong, though Rains doesn’t get many opportunities to shine until his final scene. Bridges is especially good as the hunky Nazi. The movie looks great in Technicolor. There was quite a bit of location shooting in the French Alps, though it's clear that the shots of our cast while climbing were filmed in a Hollywood studio. Still, the mix of studio and location footage mostly works well. One online reviewer notes that some of the actors (Homolka and Rains in particular) look like they could barely climb a flight of stairs let alone a treacherous mountain, but we suspend our disbelief. Overall, an enjoyable if fairly predictable adventure melodrama—though the climax may take you a bit by surprise—worth watching if for no other reason for the scenery. Ford and Valli are pictured at top, and a glamour shot of Ford is at right. [TCM]

FORBIDDEN PLANET (1956)

A space ship with a crew led by Commander Adams (Leslie Nielsen) has been sent from Earth to the planet Altair IV to check on a colony of scientists that landed there some twenty years ago. As they approach, Dr. Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) contacts them by radio and warns them against landing, but Adams feels he must fulfill his mission. They discover that Morbius and his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) are the only settlers left—aside from Robby, a robot built by Moribus as a butler, cook and assistant—the others having been killed by what Morbius describes as a "planetary force." Adams and his men decide they must stay until they get further instructions from Earth, so Morbius explains his research: he's discovered the science of a long extinct race called the Krell who reached a remarkably advanced stage in technology but were decimated by the same force that destroyed Morbius' fellow scientists. Altaira is fascinated by the men, as the men are by her, and soon she and Adams are something of an item. But some invisible being is slipping into Adams' ship at night, vandalizing and eventually killing a couple of crewmen. Does Morbius know more than he’s telling about the planet?

This is considered a sci-fi classic, and is one of the few big-budget science fiction films attempted by Hollywood until 1968 when the game-changing 2001: A Space Odyssey was released. The movie looks great, with intricate sets and colorful backgrounds, both on the exterior of the planet and in Morbius' house and lab. The ultimate explanation for the destructive force is interesting, and it's fun to find the similarities between this and Shakespeare's The Tempest (Moribus and Altaira = Prospero and Miranda, Robby the Robot = Ariel, etc.). But much of the movie is just plain boring; the middle third feels like particularly heavy padding until we get to the climax. The acting is lackluster; Nielsen isn't especially heroic and Pidgeon is wooden. The supporting players, including Richard Anderson and Earl Holliman, add little. But the lovely Anne Francis (pictured with Nielsen) does a nice job putting some life into her "naïve untouched girl" character. When the invisible force becomes visible, it looks disappointingly like a Disney cartoon character (at least one Disney animator was on the special effects crew). Instead of a conventional musical score, there are electronic bleeps and blops—it's effective for a while, but wears out its welcome by the end. Worth watching as a reminder of where later sci-fi came from, and for its visuals. [DVD]

THE GIRL FROM MEXICO (1939)

Advertising executive L.B. Renner has promised a client that he'll find a sparkling new exotic singer for his radio show. Renner sends Dennis (Donald Woods) down to Mexico on a talent hunt. He has no luck until his car breaks down in the village of San Proximo and he has an encounter with a high-spirited singing waitress named Carmelita (Lupe Velez). She accidentally flings a lump of wet laundry at him, and when he flings it back, it knocks her into a fountain. When he goes to help her, she pushes him in, and, of course, we know that since they’ve "met cute," they'll soon be in love. But he has a snooty fiancée, Elizabeth, who lies to him and indulges in what we would now call "day drinking" with her high society buddies—we're not supposed to like them, but honestly, it seemed like they were having fun and I would have liked a couple more scenes with them. Dennis has promised Carmelita's family that he'll keep an eye on her back in the Big Apple, and he has her stay at his place, along with his Uncle Matt (Leon Errol), who bonds with Carmelita and takes her for a big day on the town out to ball games and wrestling matches. She enjoys herself so much, she cheers herself hoarse and fails the audition for the radio show, but she is hired as a singer by wrestler Mexican Pete for his club, and another client of Dennis's agency takes a liking to Carmelita, which makes Dennis realize that he's in love with her and not Elizabeth. But there are still a few more bumps on the road to bliss for Dennis and Carmelita.

This B-movie screwball romance became a surprise hit leading to the "Mexican Spitfire" series of movies centered on the married life of Dennis and Carmelita. Lupe Velez made a name for herself in these films, though the troubled actress committed suicide in 1944 at the age of 36. This movie, though enjoyable at times, does not make me want to see any of the other Spitfire films. A little of Velez goes a long way—she comes across like Lucille Ball on amphetamines. No one uses the word "spitfire" here, though she is referred to as a "firecracker" and a "pepper pot." Her outsized energy overwhelms poor Donald Woods playing her rather docile and naïve foil—he is reduced to standing around looking exasperated. Leon Errol is a little more able to stand up to Velez's antics, and indeed, he remained her co-star throughout the Spitfire series even as Woods was replaced after a couple of entries. My favorite line, from Velez: "Love makes your heart go bumpity-bumpity-bump, like a little baby falling down the stairs!" [TCM]

THE INSIDE STORY (1948)

In the small town of Silver Creek, Vermont, Charles Winninger, worried that in these post-war days, people are beginning to hoard money, tells us a kind of "Our Town" narrative set in 1933 when hoarding was in fashion because of the Depression. Our characters include inn keeper Gene Lockhart; his socially conscious daughter (Marsha Hunt); a struggling artist (William Lundigan) on whom Hunt has a crush; rich widow Florence Bates who runs the local mills, most of which have been shut down; and down-on-his-luck lawyer Robert Shayne and his wife Gail Patrick. Everyone needs money. Lockhart owes the local grocer who threatens to cut off his supply of food for his restaurant; Lundigan owes Lockhart months of back rent; the grocer owes money to Bates; Shayne is about to lose his business due to lack of clients; Patrick has been having her portrait done by Lundigan as a surprise gift to Shayne but can no longer afford to pay for it. In the midst of all these troubles, a courier (Roscoe Karnes) arrives at the inn to deliver $1000 to a farmer who is supposed to pick it up but is delayed due to his wife giving birth. When Karnes decides to leave the money in the inn's safe for the day, the escapades begin. Lockhart finds the money and assumes it's Lundigan’s back payment, so he gives it to the grocer, who gives it to Bates, who gives it to Shayne, and so on. To say nothing of the two shady characters who spend the afternoon at the inn, one of whom is a safe cracker.

This is a cute little comedy which was intended as propaganda telling citizens that it's in everyone's best interest if money is kept in circulation through banks, not hoarded. This message is fairly heavy-handed—the director, Allan Dwan, is no Frank Capra when it comes to making message movies—but it can be ignored and the movie can be enjoyed as a fun character-driven comedy with elements of melodrama (one off-screen character commits suicide and an on-screen character seriously contemplates it) and farce (a husband tries to catch his wife in an adulterous situation, but it's not what it seems). The cast mostly consists of very able supporting actors. The best here are the older ones (Lockhart, Winninger, Bates); if the younger bunch (including Lundigan, Hunt and Patrick) don't shine as much, they still give respectable performances. Allen Jenkins is fun as a friendly gangster and Will Wright gives the grocer a welcome hard edge. One interesting thread given the era: it's the women who prove more able and have to give the men a hand to get through their rough times. This doesn't show up much but is worth looking out for. Pictured are Hunt and Lundigan. [TCM]

KRAKATOA, EAST OF JAVA (1969)

Sometimes you can tell a book by its cover, or a movie by its title. This one is notorious for getting it wrong right at the start: the volcano Krakatoa, which famously erupted in 1883, killing over 30,000 people and affecting worldwide climate for years, is actually west of Java. Things mostly go downhill from that title, though viewers who hang around for the climax will be rewarded by some good disaster effects. The story on which the effects are hung has potential. Maximilian Schell is the captain of a salvage ship which is headed out from Java to find the wreck of a ship rumored to have been carrying a small fortune in pearls. Diane Baker, Schell's mistress, is the motivating force for the search: the pearls belonged to her estranged husband, and he and her son were also on the ship, and she'd like to know what happened. She's also recovering from a recent mental breakdown and is emotionally fragile. Along to help with the search: a father-son team of balloonists (Rossano Brazzi and Sal Mineo), a scientist (John Leyton), an aging deep sea diver (Brian Keith) with weakening lungs and an addiction to laudanum, his mistress, and four female Japanese pearl divers who are experienced in holding their breaths a long time. Last but not least, there's a group of convicts in chains whom Schell has been forced to accept and drop off on a prison island. One of the prisoners is a former crew member of Schell's and Schell gives him a certain amount of freedom, which, of course, he comes to regret. Of course, all the plot lines are disrupted by the explosion of Krakatoa.

This was a flop in its day and is rarely seen or discussed now, except to make fun of its erroneous title. To me, it feels very much like a dry run for the disaster movie boom of the 70s (The Poseidon Adventure, Airplane, The Towering Inferno). Like those films, it's got: a varied group of characters thrown together with bonding between some and friction between others; the group eventually in isolation; a build-up of warning signs of dangerous conditions ahead; a lengthy special effects-filled climax. What it doesn't have is an all-star roster of actors (no disrespect meant to the actors, but when your biggest names are Schell and Mineo, you're not in the same league as something like Inferno with Paul Newman, Fred Astaire, Faye Dunaway, and Steve McQueen). It also has a slow-moving, muddled plot with not enough interesting separate strands—very little is done with Keith's addiction, and I have no idea why Brazzi and Mineo's characters are present except for a 2-minute sequence of their balloon almost going down into the volcano. Schell, Keith and Mineo are good, the rest of the cast less so, and Keith provides some nice burly eye candy--he'll make you forget his Uncle Bill persona from the 60s TV show Family Affair. The pre-CGI-era volcano effects are pulled off well with an adequate amount of death and destruction. The version of this I saw on Amazon Prime was the edited reissue (titled Volcano), with almost 30 minutes cut, including what sounds like a jaw-droppingly bad musical number involving nuns and orphans. The movie was not terrible, but I'm not sure it's worth tracking down the full-length version just for that song. Pictured at top right are Mineo and Brazzi; below are Keith and Barbara Werle. [Amazon Prime]

THE QUIET AMERICAN (1958)

Saigon in 1952 during the Indochinese War is an unsettled place. There are constant skirmishes between the French colonial rulers and the Communists, and the Cai-Dao religious sect seems to be positioning itself as a "third force" in the conflict. A British reporter named Fowler (Michael Redgrave) and his Vietnamese mistress Phuong (Giorgia Moll) become friendly with a new arrival to the city, a fresh-faced young man whom we only come to know as the American (Audie Murphy), a representative from a humanitarian aid organization. He seems a bit naïve but well-intentioned, though soon, Fowler begins to suspect that the American may actually be part of a secret subversive group. When explosions rock a street demonstration, Fowler is led to believe by others that some plastics the American has imported have been used to make the bombs. Meanwhile, the American becomes infatuated with Phuong, who is waiting for Fowler to ask his wife back in England for a divorce, but he won't make a move on her as long as Fowler is in the picture. When the wife refuses to divorce for religious reasons, Fowler lies to the two of them and claims that a divorce decree is imminent. Eventually, Fowler's paper reassigns him to England; his bluff is called and Phuong makes plans to marry the American. Certain that the American is up to no good, and jealous that Phuong is leaving him, Fowler betrays the American to a Communist spy who plans to take decisive action against the meddling American. But when the truth comes out, it appears that Fowler has misread the political situation.

It's not a spoiler to note that the American winds up dead—the film begins with Fowler being asked to identify his body, found on a river bank at night during New Year celebrations. The story, told in flashback, concerns itself with the how and why of his death, and the moral decline of the reporter. Readers of the Graham Greene novel this film is based on complain that the film softens the book's political stance against American involvement in Vietnam, and to some degree, this is true. But the movie doesn’t exactly let anyone off scot free—not Fowler, not the American, not the Communists, not Phuong, and not even the sly and friendly-seeming Dominguez (Fred Sadoff), a associate of Fowler's who is not as harmless as he appears. If you're not a Greene purist, I would highly recommend this film. At times, it feels like it could have been made recently (there was a remake in 2002 with Michael Caine of which I only have a vague memory, but it apparently does stick closer to the novel). It's a period film and it was shot in classy-looking black & white so its look hasn't aged much. The politics of the situation are downplayed so this is basically a love triangle melodrama told through the frame of a murder mystery. Redgrave is excellent as the reporter as is the Italian actress Giorgia Moll who never comes off as a caricature—I was quite surprised to discover that she was not Asian. Audie Murphy, a famous WWII hero in real life who mostly acted in B-westerns, is surprisingly good. Some critics find him a bit too lightweight, but I think he does a great job keeping viewers off-balance as to what motivates his character. He's baby-faced handsome but with a slightly cynical, even decadent, cast about him at times, like an overgrown Boy Scout that you can't quite trust. Solid direction from Joseph Mankiewicz (All About Eve, Cleopatra). Highly recommended. Pictured top right is Murphy; below are Redgrave and Sadoff. [TCM]

A WOMAN'S FACE (1941)

In a Swedish courtroom, Anna Holm (Joan Crawford) is on trial for murder. As a small group of people testify, we piece together her story. At a rustic tavern in the woods, a regular patron, the once wealthy Torsten Barring (Conrad Veidt), is hosting a small party, but when the time comes to pay up, he is told that they can no longer extend him credit. Torsten has a private conversation with Anna, who tries but fails to hide her scarred face (suffered as a child in a house fire that her drunken father set). However, he barely seems to notice her disfigurement; they hit it off and she extends him credit. We find out that Anna is the leader of a blackmail ring involving the workers at the tavern; Torsten, whom Anna has fallen for, becomes a partner in crime. He gives her a packet of love letters he filched from a married woman, Vera, to her lover. Anna goes to Vera's house to ask for money for the letters, but the sudden arrival of Vera's husband Gustaf (Melvyn Douglas) causes a glitch. He happens to be a plastic surgeon and he whisks her off to the country to use some radical techniques to cure her. Weeks later, when the bandages come off, Anna is beautiful and has a new lease on life. When Anna returns (taking a new name, Ingrid), she gets involved in Torsten's plot to get his hands on a sizeable inheritance. The sticking point: a four-year old stands in his way. Anna reluctantly agrees to become part of a murder plot by becoming governess to the child, and eventually killing him in a staged accident. But when Gustaf shows up (still married to his cheating wife), Anna gets cold feet, and an entanglement begins that ends in the death that Anna is accused of causing.

This is a grand entry in the women's melodrama genre so popular in the 1940s, the genre in which Joan Crawford excelled (HUMORESQUE, MILDRED PIERCE). And though Crawford is fine in the role, what makes this movie fun for me is the supporting cast, primarily the trio of con artists working with Crawford: Connie Gilchrist, who went on to a long career playing cooks and housekeepers—most notably as Norah Muldoon in AUNTIE MAME—gets a role here a bit bigger and juicier than usual; Donald Meek and Reginald Owen round out the group. Sadly, though the three get quite a bit of screen time early on, by the time Crawford loses her scars she also loses her gang. Marjorie Main is delightful as a housekeeper—physically, she's unrecognizable, but she can’t hide her voice. Veidt, of course, is always wonderful as the man you love to hate—and he has a great scene with Crawford before the climactic party scene (which leads to a nice nighttime sleigh chase)—but he rather overpowers Douglas, ostensibly the male lead. Osa Massen is good as Douglas's cheating wife, and other welcome faces include Albert Basserman, Henry Daniell and George Zucco. Recommended. Pictured are Crawford and Douglas. [TCM]

WIRETAPPER (1955)

As WWII winds to an end, Alice (Georgia Lee) is anxiously waiting for her fiancé Jim Vaus (Bill Williams) to come home. He's stationed stateside but keeps getting transfers from one place to another and can't seem to get a furlough to come home. As we find out, the truth is that Jim is in a military jail for stealing equipment and has his letters to Alice smuggled out to be mailed from various locations. But after V-J Day, Jim is pardoned and given a lecture by a chaplain who knows about Jim's letters and urges him to tell Alice the truth when he gets home—but when he's face to face with her, he can't bring himself to do so. Still, their reunion is happy and he goes into business as an electrical engineering consultant. Business is quite slow at first, but when he performs a minor repair job for a lawyer named Rumsden, he discovers by accident that Rumsden's house is bugged. It turns out that Rumsden is a lawyer for gangsters, and he quickly hires Jim to do a wiretapping job for him on a woman trying to muscle into the local prostitution ring. The cops catch him doing it, but because the tap provides enough info to jail the madam, they turn a blind eye. Soon, Jim is working for other shady characters, his "business" becomes a success, and he and Alice (whom he keeps in the dark about his clients as long as he can) get married. Eventually, he tells Alice about his past and she's forgiving, but as his jobs become more numerous, he neglects his wife, even missing the birth of their first child. After pulling off a scam in which Jim delays the ticker-tape results of horse races to fix some bets, Jim wants to leave the rackets, especially with Alice pregnant again, but he finds that difficult to do—until Alice drags him into a Billy Graham revival tent.

Bet you weren’t expecting Billy Graham as a deus ex machina at the climax. I wasn't either, and it doesn't play very well, even though this movie is based on a memoir by the real Jim Vaus, so perhaps that's what really happened. Up to that point, religion has barely been mentioned, making the ending feel even stranger. Overall, it's a so-so B-crime movie with film noir elements—primarily the conflicted hero—but with nothing interesting going on in terms of style or acting. Bill Williams is fine in the lead, and Ric Roman (as a gangster) and Stanley Clements (as a lesser thug) are good in support. But Georgia Lee is pretty terrible as the wife, accentuating Alice's whiny clinginess and squeaky-clean personality, giving the character no shadings at all. As far as the issue of the noir hero, Jim has been cutting moral corners all his life, but Williams plays him as a pleasant and not terribly thoughtful person, not really all that conflicted about how he makes a living. According to contemporary newspaper accounts, the film was originally shown at churches and at revivals, but it did eventually receive a theatrical release. Mostly recommended to fans of 50s B-movies; it's competently made and hardly painful viewing but it’s also not all that memorable . . . until Billy Graham appears. [YouTube]

A GIRL, A GUY, AND A GOB (1941)

This rom-com has a meet-cute opening: at the opera, Dot (Lucille Ball) and her working-class family are occupying the box seats of wealthy Stephen (Edmond O'Brien) and his snooty fiancée Cecilia. Dot has the tickets in hand and after some fuss, Stephen's party angrily leaves, after which Dot finds out that her brother had actually found the tickets which Stephen had lost and used them for his family. The next day, Dot is assigned as a temp worker to, you guessed it, Stephen. Meanwhile, we meet Dot's boyfriend, the "gob" (sailor) of the title, Claudius J. Cup, who goes by Coffee Cup; he's a friendly, rambunctious guy who fits right in with Dot's eccentric family. When Dot, Stephen and Coffee Cup wind up together on a streetcorner, they get in the middle of a brawl; Stephen is knocked out and is taken back to Dot's family's apartment where he recovers. Our trio becomes downright chummy, even as Dot feels romantic conflict: she genuinely likes Coffee Cup even as she begins having feelings for the buttoned-up Stephen who seems to be enjoying becoming a little more carefree. If you think this sounds a little like a Frank Capra film (specifically, You Can't Take It With You), you'd be right, though this is less sentimental and much less polished than the average Capra work. One thing I liked about this is that I couldn't quite predict whether it would be the Guy or the Gob that the Girl would up with. Both are likeable and neither does anything to make Dot angry. Sometimes you can tell by the billing—in this case, that would mean first-billed George Murphy. Sometimes you can tell by looks—in this case, O'Brien is the more handsome man. All three leads are fine: Murphy's full of piss and vinegar, O'Brien is distractedly dazzled by Ball and her family, and Ball gives one of her best movie performances. Henry Travers gives fine support as a business partner of O'Brien's, and Franklin Pangborn is fun in the small role of a nervous pet shop owner. Harold Lloyd produced the film which includes a couple of rowdy slapstick scenes. Not quite a classic but very entertaining. Pictured are O'Brien, Ball and Murphy. [TCM]