jarrodmcdonald-1 Reviews

Little Miss Broadway (1938)

Singing-dancing orphan girl

[1 June 2024]

A child whose parents are dead. That's the definition for the word orphan. But at 20th Century Fox in the 1930s, the definition was: sympathetic role for Shirley Temple. In fact, there was no other role suited for her, as a girl with indelible moppet charm that the audience could root for, because goodness, she just needed some parents and a home of her own. The prospective parents were usually not an established couple. They were often two young single adults (never middle aged) who fell in love during the story, to facilitate a romantic subplot.

The film starts with Shirley predictably in an orphanage, singing with other girls about the virtue of remaining optimistic. Yes, they can't be too downtrodden, since a film with a sad vibe would not go over well with movie viewers. We are told up front that she's not staying here; she's going to live with an old friend of her deceased parents who's agreed to look after her.

She's happy, until she realizes the other girls are not being adopted. As if those emotions were not overpowering, we have the girls leaning out windows singing Auld Lang Syne as Shirley leaves the orphanage. Nothing is subtle!

In the next part Shirley settles in at a boarding house with the elderly gent (Edward Ellis) who's taken her in along with his pretty daughter (Phyllis Brooks). It's a place where various theatrical types reside, most of them currently jobless. One of the tenants is a bandleader (Jimmy Durante) who hasn't had a gig in twelve weeks. But he's so busy playing poker, he doesn't seem to care!

Meanwhile there is a crotchety old lady (Edna May Oliver in a role that normally would've been assigned to Helen Westley) that lives in the next building. She is upset by all the noise the performers are making. Oliver disagrees with her brother (Donald Meek) that the riffraff in the boarding house need to go; and since she owns that building, too; and Shirley's new friends owe Oliver back rent, she decides it's time to evict them all!

Into the mix we have the introduction of Oliver's handsome young nephew (George Murphy). He befriends Shirley and just so happens to be fond of Brooks, much to his auntie's dismay. The love story will complicate Oliver's plans to toss Ellis and the others out on their keisters.

Murphy shares the same opinion with Meek that Oliver shouldn't throw anyone out on the street. While he devises a plan to thwart his aunt's actions, we see him bond more with Shirley. There is a cute scene in which they do a few dance steps together. It leads to a number on top of a table. Only in the movies!

Shirley thinks Murphy is quite skilled and asks where he learned to dance. He explains he learned at Harvard as part of the Hasty Pudding Club. Shirley doesn't realize that's the name of a theatrical group and says 'boy, I bet that tasted good!'

One of the reasons these cinematic vehicles worked so well for Shirley Temple is because she's usually a wide-eyed innocent dealing with adult situations. Part of the fun is her overcoming a specific plight and teaching the adults a lesson or two. Her line deliveries are classic, such as a moment where she learns a butler lied about something and she brands him a fibber who should stand in the corner. Or when she tells Murphy that she would have been an old maid if she hadn't met him. Not sure if these scenes would work so well with any other young child actress.

Of course we know that Murphy and Brooks will end up together, and they will become Shirley's proper parents. Also, Oliver will have a change of heart and reverse her thinking about evicting the performers. Oh, and certainly, there will be a big show before all is said and done (in this case, staged inside a courtroom!) to indicate the theatrical types are now back to work. There won't be any problem that doesn't get solved with the help of a singing-dancing orphan girl.

Battle Hymn (1957)

To Korea and back

[31 May 2024]

BATTLE HYMN, a Technicolor production directed by Douglas Sirk, is a look at the Korean War. By this point in his career, Sirk had become known for a series of lavish tearjerkers with producer Ross Hunter. Many of them featured Rock Hudson in the lead role. This time, the trio venture away from their usual formula to focus on a true life subject. The emphasis is on Colonel Dean Hess, an Air Force pilot and minister celebrated for his humanitarian efforts in Korea.

Hess was instrumental in the building of an orphanage in Korea, which occurred after he had already seen battle in WWII. In fact, he had been haunted by his earlier experiences, which caused him to return to the military and work in Korea. You see, Hess had accidentally bombed a German orphanage back in 1945, killing over thirty children, and he was unable to forget it. So when he re-enlisted and went to Korea, it became important to him to build a new orphanage there.

Hudson is believably cast in this real-life role. Certainly it's a chance to stretch himself as an actor, taking on the story of a well-known hero who had notable demons to confront. Sometimes on screen, Hess' personal life is messy. He has tried to atone for all he did wrong in WWII by turning to God; but that doesn't fully absolve him of his guilt. In Korea, he will try to do something purposeful, so he can maybe get over his anguish.

While Hess is in Korea, his wife (Martha Hyer) back home learns she is pregnant; so there is new life on the way. Hyer's role is quite marginal in this picture. She was one of Universal's dependable lead actresses, typically cast in melodramas and westerns. In this instance, her persona as a good spouse is used to good effect. However, she is absent from much of the action, especially the scenes that occur in Korea.

In Seoul, Hess is acquainted with a Korean woman (Anna Kashfi); and an intimate relationship is more than implied. At the same time he also befriends a black pilot (James Edwards). The military is at this point racially integrated.

There's an interesting scene where Edwards' character guns down a truck and learns that some children were victims. His situation reminds Hess of what had happened before in the last war. This was one of my favorite parts of the film. It was brilliant the way we had this extra character in a subplot that mirrored Hess' own pain. Then how they both share their grief, in a rather therapeutic way.

Interestingly, despite the military being racially integrated and the relationships that Hess forms with the black pilot and the Korean gal, there are still scenes that depict racist or xenophobic attitudes which existed among U. S. military personnel. Americans may have been defending democracy on foreign soil, but they were not without prejudices. I supposed it would have felt false if Sirk had not included any of it.

While Hess is atoning for past sins, there are battles that must be fought and won in South Korea. Fighting scenes in the film display good aerial footage. There are several key death scenes. One of these involves Kashfi's character. Of course, the production code necessitates her demise.

Mostly, I found Kashfi's character to be one of the more fictionalized elements of the film. Not sure if Hess really did have such a close relationship with a Korean woman, while he was away from his wife. But here, in this film, she is included to ramp up the drama. But of course she cannot be the one he chooses. He has to ultimately re-choose his wife and go back home for a happy ending. Thus, Kashfi's role is expendable in a narrative of this sort, and the character must die.

In terms of box office, Kashfi was probably thrown into the mix so there would be someone sexy or exotic for men in the audience to ogle. But of course Hyer's character represents the morally correct choice of a partner as sanctioned by the production code.

Of course the main point of this story is the work Hess did to build the orphanage in Chejudo, South Korea. But when a Hollywood studio produces a movie for mass entertainment, usually the more reasonable aspects of the plot become secondary to the more sensationalized elements.

Violent Playground (1958)

All children come from heaven, except juvenile delinquents

[29 May 2024]

Influenced by Hollywood films from the same period, such as MGM's BLACKBOARD JUNGLE, this British social message drama covers a lot of the same ground while putting its own spin on things. Set in and filmed in parts of Liverpool, the drama concerns a juvenile liaison officer (Stanley Baker) whose assignment is to patrol a busy neighborhood in plain clothes.

As part of his duties Baker associates with other members of the community determined to correct wayward youth. One of these folks is a priest, played by Peter Cushing who would soon make his mark in horror films. Here, Cushing is much less monstrous. Instead, the monster of the piece is a know-it-all teenager (David McCallum) who seems to have a weird power over the other boys his age. That is, until he starts to go too far and becomes an outright criminal.

Baker first meets McCallum when he apprehends McCallum's younger twin siblings stealing from a local store. Taking the youngsters home Baker learns there is no mother around- she's moved to London and remarried. Meanwhile, there is a father, but he's away on an extended business trip. So the rearing of McCallum and the two younger kids becomes the responsibility of an older sister (Anne Heywood) who is an adult in her early 20s. She will become a romantic interest for Baker, naturally.

The set-up is clever, because not only is Baker patrolling the nearby streets where McCallum gets into trouble...but Baker becomes directly involved with the family through his relationship with Heywood. In a way, Baker takes on the role of the family's surrogate patriarch; which of course, puts a crimp into McCallum's plans to continue running wild.

Also, as part of the set-up for this story, there is a subplot involving an unknown arsonist. And that person turns out to be McCallum, which leads to a standoff later inside the twins' school. In one of the classrooms, we see McCallum hold a bunch of children hostage at gunpoint then make some unrealistic demands of the police. Of course, Heywood needs Baker to give her troubled brother a break, but Baker has to operate according to the law, not according to his heart.

I didn't think the writers did a decent job explaining McCallum's criminal behavior. He seems to be a monster for no good reason. Why did he start setting fires? What was the root cause of that behavior? We're never really told this information. Also, we're not told why the mother left and never came back, or why McCallum would even have a twinge of guilt when he accidentally runs over a Chinese worker with a stolen van. Too many holes in the plot make us guess too much.

Also, I had a slight problem with the editing. It seems like Dearden and his editor are consciously trying to make this a "European art film" by adding in various jump cuts, so scenes never really dissolve or logically lead into subsequent scenes. Instead, we're barely finished with a scene when suddenly we find ourselves plunged into the next scene almost in progress. I didn't see the purpose for this. Maybe later, during the siege at the school, where the action would undoubtedly be more chaotic and disjointed. But not earlier in the picture when Baker was on his rounds.

The Story of Temple Drake (1933)

So help her God

[28 May 2024]

Based on William Faulkner's novel Sanctuary, this Paramount precode goes out of its way to play up the more sordid aspects of the plot. Almost everyone is unsavory, except for maybe the town's old judge (Guy Standing) and a young defense attorney (William Gargan) in love with the judge's granddaughter. She's known as Temple Drake (Miriam Hopkins).

Early scenes feature Temple as a spoiled southern girl who realizes she has a streak of evil in her, and that she's the subject of local gossip. But she is unable to free herself from the naughtier side of her nature. As a result she turns down more than one marriage proposal from Gargan; and she leaves a formal dance to go off with a college guy (William Collier Jr.) for a ride in the country.

During the ride they end up in an accident, get caught in a downpour, and then they're taken to a haunted looking house where bootleggers hang out. The place is owned by a man (Irving Pichel) with a wife (Florence Eldridge) and young child. These are hardly likable or sympathetic people, including the wife, but she does try to keep Temple from harm when the college dude passes out and the other men start fighting over Temple.

But Temple is unable to sleep in the barn. For the main gangster (Jack La Rue) finds his way down there and kills a kid (James Eagles) who's protecting her. Then in what is the film's most famous and trashiest scene, he climbs in through a window and corners her among the corncobs where he forces himself on her. Yes, scenes like this are what caused the Hollywood production code to be strongly enforced a short time later.

The next part of the film has Temple as a dazed prisoner of Trigger (LaRue), living in a city a hundred miles away as a 'couple.' The name Trigger turns out to be ironic, since he has a gun, and Temple uses it to kill him when she tries to get away from him. The story basically moves from one scandalous event to the next, culminating in a trial.

And it is there, in a courtroom back in her hometown, that Temple takes the stand and confesses everything. Hopkins does a superb job, delivering a powerful monologue that goes like this:

"I want to answer. I want to tell everything. I was there. A boy took me. Toddy Gowan. Our car got smashed. And it was raining. Then he went away and left me. Nobody would take me home. I got frightened. And that woman took me out to the barn. She said I'd be safe there. I couldn't sleep. It was getting light when a man came in. Trigger, they called him. He came at me. Tommy heard us and looked in. Trigger shot him. I didn't see Tommy anymore. And then, and then, he attacked me. Trigger did."

While the spectators inside the courtroom murmur, Temple continues to exorcise her demons: "I didn't go home. I went to the city with Trigger and stayed there until this week..." She is asked where Trigger is now, where the court might find him. This is when she completely breaks down: "Can't...never find him. I killed him." She suddenly collapses and is carried out. But she did it, she told the truth, nothing but the truth. So help her God, she did.

Double Jeopardy (1955)

Excellent Republic crime flick

[27 May 2024]

Television was dominating the entertainment landscape in the mid-1950s, but the big studios were still turning out notable motion pictures. This excellent crime flick from Republic is an example. Rod Cameron, who was typically cast in westerns, is assigned a change of pace role as a lawyer who helps solve a killing that implicates his wealthy boss (John Litel). There's a romantic angle with Cameron in love with the man's daughter, played by Allison Hayes.

Though Cameron and Hayes are the main couple we're meant to root for, they are somewhat upstaged by another couple directly responsible for the death that occurs on screen. This second couple is portrayed by sultry Gale Robbins and dapper Jack Kelly. Right from the start, we know they are trouble, especially when we watch Robbins smooching Kelly in a fancy convertible while her drunken middle-aged husband (Robert Armstrong) watches from the upstairs window of their apartment.

Robbins traipses into the apartment and is quickly confronted by Armstrong about her extramarital activities. Their argument is overheard by a busybody landlady (Minerva Urecal). Robbins has had enough and packs a suitcase, planning to leave. But Armstrong convinces her to stay when he flashes some C notes in front of her greedy eyes. He's just received a monthly installment from a man he's blackmailing. That man? Litel.

Already, within the first few minutes we see how interconnected all these characters' lives are; with several of them heading straight for disaster. Kelly's character works at a car lot, but he's not earning as much as he'd like; so he convinces Robbins to pressure Armstrong into asking Litel for even more money. Then she drives off with a new set of wheels, unpaid!

In the next part Armstrong is using the "stolen" vehicle to head up Mulholland Drive to meet Litel for ten grand. Only Litel won't pay another dollar and leaves. Kelly has followed Armstrong to the top of the canyon; there's a quarrel and Armstrong plunges off the side to his death, smashing up the car.

The plot thickens when Litel is incriminated because the other set of tire tracks along the cliff belonged to his Rolls. Litel is arrested, and this sets Cameron in motion playing amateur detective, since Hayes does not feel the police are doing enough to find the real killer (Kelly) which will clear her dad.

The ending is routine, but exciting. The best part of DOUBLE JEOPARDY is the opportunity it gives Armstrong & Litel, two gifted character actors, to shine in their roles as former associates connected by a past they'd rather forget.

At the same time, we have Kelly and Robbins heating up the screen; while Cameron and Hayes give us a more subdued mature type of love story. All the elements gel, and without a doubt, these fine performances, with plenty of on-location filming in and around Los Angeles, make this one of Republic's best programmers from the mid-50s.

One Touch of Venus (1948)

Mischief maker

[26 May 2024]

Venus, as played by Ava Gardner, is a real mischief maker in this delightful adaptation of a hit Broadway musical comedy. She plays a beautiful marble statue that experiences a transmutation of sorts. After coming to life, she causes trouble for a hapless window dresser (Robert Walker).

Though Mary Pickford's production company and Universal-International, which co-financed the project and exhibited the film, have removed much of the music from the stage hit, some of the key songs are retained. For whatever reason, Gardner's voice is dubbed in these renditions, though her costars, Dick Haymes, Olga San Juan and Eve Arden, are not dubbed.

Gardner was borrowed from home studio MGM along with top-billed Walker who plays the less-than-ideal romantic male lead. Walker is an expert at bumbling comedy routines, making his character so ultimately endearing, that we cannot help but cheer him on, even though in real life we know a figure like Gardner, whether she's a statue or a live flesh being, would probably never choose a guy like him!

The original production featured Mary Martin and Kenny Baker. Martin was a last-minute replacement for Marlene Dietrich, and Venus became a breakthrough role for Martin, turning her into a bonafide Broadway star. Martin had been offered the part in the film by Pickford, but pregnancy made her bow out. Personally, I think this was a good bit of luck for the film, as it forced Pickford and Universal execs to seek Gardner's services, and she is perfect for the part.

Eve Arden is her usual wisecracking self and steals every scene she is in. This becomes a cliche after writing countless reviews of films in which she appears, but she is that good. Ironically, I would argue Arden gives the most fleshed out performance. We sympathize with her Girl Friday routine as the ultra efficient eternally overlooked secretary of a department store owner (Tom Conway).

Conway's character becomes so enamored with statue Gardner coming to life that it causes Arden to take action. Faced with the idea that Arden will quit and dessert him, Conway comes to his senses and eventually agrees to marry Arden. Only in the movies! Of course this means Gardner will now end up with Walker.

Haymes and San Juan are on hand as Walker's pal and initial girlfriend, who eventually hook up themselves, or so it is implied, since their screen time wanes as the story goes on. I found Haymes quite believable in a second banana role, though when it comes to the musical numbers, Haymes is clearly lead material in his own right.

The Broadway version of the story takes place inside a museum, where the statue comes to life after the hapless joe slips a ring on her finger. Here, the story has been transplanted to a department store which has a model home inside it; thus, allowing the writers to comment more on postwar suburban housing patterns. The department store setting also allows us to examine business practices, when Conway blames Walker in the beginning for the disappearance of the statue.

For the most part it's a smooth adaptation, though it did not fare well with contemporary audiences. Some of the dialogue is a bit forced; not every scene plays perfectly because the characters are often saying things to be funny instead of saying things in a realistic way. But I do think this is a thoroughly enjoyable motion picture, and I did like how the occasional tunes bridged the various subplots and connected the scenes.

Rocky Mountain (1950)

The "failed" mission of a Confederate patrol

[25 May 2024]

Though the patrol that Errol Flynn leads west during the Civil War fails to take a region in the southwest, along the border of California, we are meant to sympathize with them and even admire their valiant heroism. These types of films were popular with American movie audiences, especially audiences in the south who still wanted to believe that the Confederate cause was a valid one, eighty-five years after the end of the U. S. Civil War.

Some movies are not only about the men who fought and lost such a war, these movies are also about place. Specifically, the places where they come from; as well as the place where they are all now assembled- in this case, atop a Rocky Mountain, which Flynn affectionately calls The Rock.

We are not told much about Flynn's background except that he lost a woman he loved; but we do learn bits and pieces about the ragtag soldiers under his command. Some grew up on steamboats; some were ex-cons; some were tough plainsmen; some were heirs of powerful plantation families; some were from Louisiana where English was not their first language; etc.

One of the soldiers in this group is a young sixteen year old named Jimmy (Dick Jones). I suppose he is meant to remind us of the kid in Crane's The Red Badge of Courage, played on screen by Audie Murphy a year later.

Jimmy's already seen battle for over two years, having enlisted at age fourteen. Flynn comments that Jimmy quickly went from innocent boy to full-fledged man, implying there were many such Jimmys on both sides. Jimmy has a dog, Spot, who is probably the most endearing character in the story. Unlike these Confederate men who are killed by warring natives at the end, Spot manages to survive- a poignant touch in a grim western tale.

Another character who survives is a woman traveler played by Patrice Wymore. Wymore was a last-minute fill-in for Lauren Bacall who refused the role and soon broke ties with the studio. It's a shame that Bacall did not do the role, since one does feel that the part was written for her, and while Wymore in her first leading role is a pleasant enough figure, she is not quite as good an actress as Bacall. Some of her scenes do not convey the fortitude and strength required.

Wymore's character is nearly killed in the beginning when her stagecoach is ambushed by natives and she's left for dead. Flynn and his patrol rescue her, and she joins them on top of The Rock, while they wait for other men to arrive and form a larger army that will storm into California and supposedly claim that land for the South. At the same time, we learn Wymore is a Yankee and is engaged to a Union officer (Scott Forbes) who comes to find her, since her stagecoach did not make it to the fort where they were to have been reunited.

During the middle section of the film, Forbes and his men have been overtaken by Flynn and his men. So we have both sides at cross-purposes, co-existing, then confronted with a deadly attack by the Shoshone. How the men work together and overcome some, if not all their differences, is a key message of the film. There is a shocking scene near the conclusion where Flynn's character is brought down by arrows, and he experiences a most surprising on-screen death.

I was glad that Wymore, whose character had been developing feelings for Flynn, still ended up with Forbes (and the dog) in the last scene. Yet, Flynn was still regarded to be a man worth admiring on some level. In real life, Flynn who had recently been divorced and was engaged to someone else, fell for Wymore and married her a few months after the picture wrapped.

China (1943)

Defending freedom and saving children

[24 May 2024]

Chinese-American relations changed considerably after 1945. But during WWII, the United States was politically allied with China against the Japanese. That alliance is in evidence in this Paramount classic from 1943. Supposedly the film was a project that Loretta Young was very passionate about doing. She had been following the news and was affected by reports of Chinese children that were orphaned during the war. It was part of her mission to bring their story to the screen.

Young had been under contract to 20th Century Fox until 1939, then began a multi-picture deal at Columbia Pictures. After the deal with Columbia ended in 1941, she became a freelancer. She was now in a position to choose scripts that mattered to her without facing studio suspension. Her costar, Alan Ladd, was a Paramount contractee who had just broken through with the hit LUCKY JORDAN, in which he played a gangster. Studio bosses wanted to put him into more heroic roles, and this project seemed ideal for him.

During production the two lead performers did not always get along. Both seemed concerned about who would be perceived as the real 'star' of CHINA. There were occasional disagreements behind the scenes between them and director John Farrow, but I think that spiritedness helps infuse this drama with a bit more intensity and energy than it might otherwise have had.

The bottom line is that neither Young nor Ladd intended a career misstep. They both wanted the film to be a hit, which is exactly what happened. In fact the box office success of CHINA led to the two stars reuniting for another picture the following year at Paramount called AND NOW TOMORROW, a much more melodramatic effort.

I think what makes CHINA work is the perfect balance between action and "romance." Yes, there is a bit of wartime jingoism involved, and modern eyes will no doubt see some of the race-related problems of the era, but it's a conscientious story containing a lot of character driven truths. The main message for viewers, then and now, is that we are in this thing together-- especially when we have a common enemy to defeat.

The film has an almost noir-like quality to it in the way that the scenes are lit and photographed, particularly the nighttime scenes. The violent episodes that occur-- a rape, multiple murders and a climactic series of explosions-- signify darker elements. It's a harrowing story and not one that we might typically associate with Loretta Young, who usually appeared in feel-good motion pictures.

Despite the moving performance rendered by Young and her Asian cast members, the film is defined by the atrocities depicted on screen. But it does "feel good" in the sense that these Americans are fighting against threats to democracy and are making noble sacrifices. I would imagine viewers in 1943 came away with the knowledge that something was being done to make the world a better place. It's a film about defending freedom and saving children from ruin.

She Couldn't Take It (1935)

Could she take everything he had to offer?

[22 May 2024]

Joan Bennett was still a blonde at this point in her Hollywood career. In fact, she wouldn't switch from brunette to light-shaded tresses until 1938. This was the second of four films she made with leading man George Raft. Their first outing was earlier in the decade when Bennett was under contract at Fox. Now, she was working for Walter Wanger, who had a production unit at Paramount. But for this project, Wanger made a deal with Columbia and brought his most important leading lady with him.

As for Raft, he was a Paramount contractee and had already made a name for himself playing tough guy hoods. Many of his characters had a soft spot, especially where the ladies were concerned. He'd play another gangster in their next picture together, THE HOUSE ACROSS THE BAY; then a more reformed type in NOB HILL. The two performers liked working alongside each other, and it's obvious they shared chemistry on screen.

In this story, Bennett is in screwball mode as the daughter of a wealthy businessman (Walter Connolly). The first sequence of the film sets up Bennett, her irresponsible brother (James Blakely) and their bubble-headed mother (Billie Burke) as major pains in the backside for Connolly. He's trying to steer Bennett away from a penniless count, he's getting Blakely out of jams with the law; and he's paying off bills Burke has run up purchasing pearls on a trip abroad.

We immediately feel sorry for Connolly, who has his work out for himself with this family. Of course, they are all exaggerated types for comedic effect. But there's a layer of truth, that a man who indulges his wife and children without teaching the value of taking responsibility for their own actions, is doing them no real favors. An ironic twist occurs when Connolly is arrested for income tax evasion. He agrees to plead guilty and takes a five year sentence, because it will get him away from his crazy clan!

In prison Connolly meets Raft one day in the library. Raft is also serving a term for tax law violations, plus Raft was a bootlegger whose criminal activities indirectly led to the deaths of several people. He has now reformed and is about to be released on parole. There are some nice scenes between the two men, and they get to know each other better when Raft becomes Connolly's cellmate. Raft has plenty of advice for how Connolly can tame his wild family after getting out, and Connolly likes Raft's ideas.

There's another twist when Connolly suffers a heart attack and is rushed to the infirmary. He dies a short time later, but not before he makes Raft the executor of his estate. This means that when Raft gets out, he now has a legitimate job as a trustee of Connolly's fortune, and will make financial decisions that affect Connolly's relatives.

This is where the film finds its mojo, because naturally, there will be plenty of humorous opposition to Raft by Bennett and the others. Particularly when he cuts them from thirty grand allowances on jewelry to just one hundred dollars a week-- divided among them! Not sure if we're meant to pity the poor rich in this scenario, but I am sure Depression era audiences got a huge kick out of it!

We can be sure Bennett and Raft will fall for each other, despite their best intentions not to...but before Raft went to prison, he made a lot of enemies. And some of those people come gunning for him now that he's out. This affects his blossoming relationship with Bennett, as well as the safety of her mother and brother. There's a very zany chase sequence at the end involving them and Raft's former cronies. The film deftly moves from one sequence to another with considerable flair. However, the real reason to watch is to see how well Raft and Bennett spar then smooch then spar and smooch again.

She's Got Everything (1937)

It takes money to have money

[21 May 2024]

The title of this classic RKO romantic comedy tells us that the lead female character (played by Ann Sothern) has it all. But the truth is she had it all, past tense. No longer an heiress, she is saddled with unpaid bills left by her recently deceased father. A bunch of creditors are coming in and hauling away all the furniture. Her sympathetic aunt (Helen Broderick) knows they can get back on their feet again; they just need a bit of time.

This is when Victor Moore enters the picture. Moore plays a bookie who was owed the most by Sothern's late father, since dear old dad had a fondness for the horses. Moore has a plan to work with the creditors to temporarily refinance Sothern's ritzy lifestyle, while Broderick steers Sothern into marrying a rico hombre from South America.

But Sothern has no intention of marrying the guy, and naively thinks that if she found an office job, she can pay everyone off. She's never worked a day in her life, so this will be interesting! The job she lands, with Moore's help, happens to be as the secretary for a coffee king (Gene Raymond). Raymond is a workaholic who seems to have allergy trouble. He has no family and no romantic attachments and just needs some tender loving care. Naturally, he and Sothern hit it off and start falling for each other. But when Raymond learns Sothern is really broke and the matchmaking creditors have an ulterior motive, he gets upset and breaks things off.

There are some very funny scenes that take place at a vacation resort, where Sothern is said to be sick to garner sympathy from Raymond. Of course, she's perfectly fine and in splendid voice, singing a lovely Hawaiian ballad. The best part of this sequence involves the side story with the creditors and their nonsensical ploys, as well as a rather hilarious bit involving a hypnotist (Solly Ward) who is supposed to help convince Sothern she should marry Raymond.

But after Raymond abruptly breaks things off, he's the one who has to be persuaded to reconsider his relationship with Sothern. Eventually, Raymond asks Sothern to forgive him after his cruel behavior towards her. She seemingly patches things up with him, but now it's her turn to jilt him. Oh yes, the course of true love never ran smooth.

While their romance keeps hitting a snag, there is a deep layer to the story. Sothern knows that she doesn't need everything, she just needs her self respect. Then she has to decide if her goal is getting even or being happy. It all reaches a madcap climax on the back of a flatbed truck, where Sothern & Raymond and Broderick & Moore, along with the creditors, are speeding towards a ship. A minister on board marries the two couples. The creditors are pleased, and they give Raymond all of Sothern's bills.

This would be the last major pairing for the two stars. Ann Sothern soon left RKO for MGM; and Gene Raymond took two years off before signing a new contract with RKO. In 1964 they both appeared in the political drama THE BEST MAN in supporting roles.

Operator 13 (1934)

Would you trust this woman to save your country?

[20 May 2024]

The first glimpse of Marion Davies in OPERATOR 13 shows her performing for a Civil War era audience. She hardly seems like secret agent material. The idea she would be chosen as a Union spy is comical to say the least. But we are led to believe she will have an impact on the battles waged between northern and southern armies. Those pages have somehow gone missing from our history texts.

Soon she is dressed as a maid and put to work on a plantation. We're told by a character that maids are gossipy, so she starts gossiping to fit those stereotypes and maintain her cover. Despite the ludicrous set-up, the film boasts MGM's usually great production values-- including exquisite costumes and sets to help authenticate the period. Davies is surrounded by some of the best character actors and actresses, but she's the star and nobody will outshine her.

The story is divided into two parts. In the first half, she's undercover as the maid while her "mistress" (another Union spy) is found out by the Confederates. And in the second half, Davies is much more glamorous, on a new mission as a well-to-do Southern sympathizer from the north. Both times she crosses paths with a soldier played by Gary Cooper. He is a Confederate officer who gradually falls in love with her. He doesn't quite recognize her from the earlier disguise, which might explain why his side will lose the war. One thing in his defense- he seems to have a sense of humor. In fact, Cooper demonstrates an obvious flair for comedy in this picture; though most of the action obscures it, ensuring he remain the romantic ideal, and not an oaf.

Their romance is accompanied by several musical numbers. Early in the film, the Mills brothers are seen as part of a traveling medicine show. They provide entertainment the night a cotillion ball is held; and during this interlude, the action nearly comes to a standstill. Later Davies has a big scene singing 'Once in a Lifetime' as Cooper pushes her on an outdoor swing. But these tender moments do not last long; because the action soon cuts to battle scenes which show the violence of war.

Nothing preachy comes across in OPERATOR 13. Betrayal runs deep on both sides of the war, but none of that is over-emphasized. We know the main characters' feelings may be sacrificed until the fighting is over. But we can be sure that once peace has returned to the land, they will be back in each other's arms. Until the U. S. government asks Marion Davies to help bring John Wilkes Booth to justice and negotiate a few peace treaties out west.

Rome 11:00 (1952)

Trying to move up, they all fall down

[19 May 2024]

This film, known in English as ROME 11:00, was directed by Giuseppe De Santis, who specialized in neorealism. De Santis was at the height of his powers in the late 1940s and 1950s. Though he would make a few more motion pictures after 1960, his style as a filmmaker evolved. Unlike other neorealist directors, De Santis was a bit more idealistic, though scenes are still punctuated with uncertainty.

The story is based on an actual incident that had occurred in early 1951. A tragedy takes place one morning at 11 o'clock when over 200 women turn up at an address in Rome to apply for a job. It's a rainy winter day, and all these gals are dealing with financial hardship and desperately want to be hired as a typist for a businessman who had placed an ad. We aren't told whether or not he expected so many applicants, but he's overwhelmed to see so many women lined up in the hallway outside his office and down a concrete stairwell that is several floors up from the ground.

At one point he tells the women that he will only interview 30 or 40 of them, meaning the others should leave as they will be turned away. Interestingly, none of the women leave, that is how desperate they are for this modestly paying position. During the initial sequence of the movie, we get to know some of these women, since there are snippets of dialogue here and there that tell us in conversation what individual circumstances have brought them here looking for work.

Not all of the women are unemployed. Some of them already have jobs, but jobs they wish to quit for something better. One applicant is a saucy prostitute who is tired of entertaining men. Another applicant is a maid for a wealthy couple who is tired of being treated like a lowly servant. Then, of course, there are some who definitely are unemployed, or have never worked before because they are homemakers, but their husbands are now unemployed, so they must see if they can get hired somewhere.

Personally I found the first half hour a bit tedious and was ready to give up on the film. There were just too many characters to connect to, and they all seemed a bit precocious in a strange way; not exactly human to me. Also, almost all the ladies were glammed up, which I understand may have been necessary to entice the businessman to hire them. But after the stairwell collapses when dozens are hauled off to a hospital, they still look glamorous with no signs of having scratches or bruises, let alone life-threatening injuries. If the goal of this film is to provide a sense of deep realism, that has to be reflected beyond the economic situation and the political situation. Physically, there should be realism, too.

The stairwell collapse occurs around the 35 minute mark, and it lasts about ten minutes or so. I did think the collapse was suitably dramatic, as horrific and dangerous as one would expect. It was a bit silly, though, that the women had to wait for male firemen and male paramedics to come rescue them...that none of them could fend for themselves or depend on each other. They were totally helpless without men...really? Come on!

The film finds its stride during the second half. This is when extended hospital scenes take place, and the victims' families and friends show up which does flesh out the individual stories more. Also, there is an ongoing police investigation; and one woman (Carla Del Poggio) who jumped the line to secure an interview and had caused a scuffle on the stairs leading to the collapse, has to deal with her confusion over being responsible for disaster.

Some of the individual character stories are wrapped up quite nicely. Most of them cannot afford an expensive hospital stay; they start to file out of the medical facility. Outside the hospital, the maid is "reunited" with her bourgeoisie employers who learned of the calamity on the radio. They are shocked someone they considered to be a 'daughter' no longer wants to work for them. When the maid refuses to go back to the manse with them, another poor applicant leaving the hospital overhears this and offers her services...meaning she will go off with the snobby couple and become their new maid, so she at least ended up with a new job!

Meanwhile we see the prostitute taken back to her apartment by a rich old fat man who wants to get it on with her, even though she just barely escaped death. She tells him she has had a tiring day and needs to spend the evening alone, a rarity for her; and compassionately, he leaves a bunch of money behind without getting sex from her. At least not tonight!

There is one woman who is pregnant out of wedlock, and her story basically resolves with a doctor telling her that she did not lose her baby. However, she still has no job. Yet another gal has been in the process of leaving her husband but decides to go back to him; their reunion scene is beautifully played without dialogue. And then we have a woman who at her mother's prodding, leaves the hospital and goes back to the office building where the debris is being cleaned up. She hopes to speak to the businessman and see if she can get the job that was originally advertised, since he had not completed the interviews due to the tragedy.

Of course, we get a resolution for the woman who blamed herself for the collapse. She is told by the police that no charges will be pressed, and she is free to go. Off to the side, architects have been summoned and they may be held responsible for the damages, though they are already trying to weasel out of it. But the building itself is not the film's main concern. It's the women and their dire socio-economic condition that De Santis wants us to think about. And that is something we can do at 11 o'clock or any other time of the day.

Scarecrow and Mrs. King: Mission of Gold (1987) Season 4, Episode 17

Scarecrow and Mrs. Stetson

[18 May 2024]

The show's two main characters were finally wed in the previous episode after three and a half years. It had been one of TV's most unusual courtships, much of it transpiring on the down low while the duo dodged bullets and dealt with international crises. But now Lee (Bruce Boxleitner) and Amanda (Kate Jackson) are married. Although she is referred to as Mrs. King early in the episode after she's shot and taken to a hospital, Amanda is not called Mrs. Stetson until the last scene, when she wakes up from a coma and is visited by Lee.

Some might say this is where the show technically jumps a shark, but I'd say it is more a logical way to bring the series' overarching romantic story to a logical turning point. Of course, the program will still be titled Scarecrow and Mrs. King, even if Amanda is now no longer Mrs. King but Mrs. Stetson. I do wonder why the producers and writers didn't save the nuptials and honeymoon till the very end as a logical two-part conclusion.

Perhaps the creative team was hoping the show could go on for awhile longer, but we are actually in the final stretch with just five more episodes to go. Due to Kate Jackson's real-life cancer, she was required to reduce her workload so her screen time is significantly cut back in these later episodes.

In 'Mission for Gold,' Jackson has an extended voice over at the beginning, then a quick shot in the car after Amanda's been shot. She isn't glimpsed again until there is a scene of her sleeping at the hospital, when her mother Dotty (Beverly Garland) has been notified and shows up. This is followed by the last scene where she is awake and talking a little bit with Lee.

Amanda is basically relegated to the subplot, since the main plot focuses on Lee going after gold smugglers involved with harming his new bride and bringing them to justice with the help of an old family friend (Henry Jones). It's a showcase for Bruce Boxleitner, who does a fine job carrying the load without much assistance from Jackson.

I expected the episode to be less entertaining than ones where Amanda is more directly involved, but I think the writing is still strong here. There is still plenty to keep us interested and invested in the outcomes. Even if there is never any doubt that Amanda will survive, and she will soon be home with Lee starting their new married life together.

Jeopardy (1953)

She'll do whatever's necessary to save her husband

[17 May 2024]

This relatively short programmer from the folks at MGM changes narrative direction and tone halfway into the story. That is not exactly a bad thing. At first it seems the tale will be about a nice American family encountering trouble south of the border. And this is a fairly good synopsis, but it's much more. It becomes a drama about what a wife will do to save the life of her husband, even if it means letting an escaped killer put his grubby paws all over her.

The opening sequence is rather laidback. We see Barbara Stanwyck's character and her husband (Barry Sullivan) heading to Ensenada with their young son (Lee Aaker). The son is overly precocious, even for a movie kid. The family stops off at a few places along the way.

But their idyllic vacation takes an awful turn after they reach an out of the way beach with a dilapidated pier. Apparently their Spanish skills are pretty poor if they cannot understand a sign that reads 'Peligro' or 'Danger.' We are told the husband had spent time in Mexico during the war, so he has some bilingual ability, but he hasn't passed any of his knowledge on to the boy, who has no idea what is so peligroso about the old pier.

So the boy starts walking across. Soon he's gotten his foot stuck between some planks. In a way the danger is over exaggerated. He could easily squeeze his foot out of his shoe and lose the footwear, but then the proverbial stage would not be set for the huge drama that comes next. Sullivan goes up along the pier to help the boy. He gets his son's foot unstuck, but then on his way back to the beach where Stanwyck is waiting as a dutiful wife during the Eisenhower era would do, Sullivan also loses his footing. This time the pier gives way.

Sullivan tumbles down on to the sand below, but a large concrete pole has also come crashing down. It pins him under, against the beach. Stanwyck and the boy rush to his aid, but they cannot dislodge the cement pillar. While the boy stays and keeps his dad company, Stanwyck must spring to the rescue. She hops in their convertible and drives off to get a rope and some help.

There is an amusing scene a short time later where she meets a Mexican couple and mispronounces the word for rope. She says corda but she really should be saying cuerda, so of course they have no idea what the heck she means. As she races off to find someone else, we see they did have a rope fastened on to the side of their donkey.

The next part is where the story's tone shifts abruptly. She arrives at an abandoned rancho (nobody is ever at home in this part of Mexico!) and she finds a rope. But she also finds an escaped con, played by Ralph Meeker, who just killed someone. He hops into the car with her, finds a gun in the glove compartment and commandeers the rest of Stanwyck's road trip. I do have to admit these scenes are rather tense and exciting, even if Meeker gets a bit too Method with his acting.

Meeker has no intention of helping Stanwyck rescue Sullivan, and even her comments about her young son don't matter to him. There is considerable sexual subtext, since we can assume Meeker hasn't had physical contact with a woman in a while. Stanwyck's character gloms on to this fact and during a wild scene, she lets him kiss her passionately more than once. She will string him along and get him to go back for her husband. After all, she reasons that Meeker will need different clothes and a new ID card, which he can take from her husband.

In the following sequence they head to the stretch of beach where Sullivan is still trapped under the pillar. We know that Stanwyck will outfox Meeker. She will be successfully reunited with Sullivan and their son, after she's persuaded Meeker to help remove the beam that is on top of Sullivan. But there is a poignant moment where Meeker takes off, fleeing the police, and Stanwyck looks after him wistfully. The movie just sort of ends there, since we know Sullivan is now safe.

But I would like there to have been a proper coda, where the family's vacation is over, and they are heading back across the border into the U. S. and learn about Meeker's capture or demise. We needed to see Stanwyck deal with the repercussions of what had happened to her. But all in all, this is an above average programmer, and it made money for MGM, since the theme of danger in a foreign country seemed to interest moviegoers.

There Goes My Girl (1937)

Do you take this reporter?

[16 May 2024]

Six years after THE FRONT PAGE had made its way to movie screens, and three years before its remake HIS GIRL FRIDAY, in which one character's gender was changed to facilitate a love story, RKO produced this raucous romcom. Gene Raymond and Ann Sothern play rival reporters who have considerable trouble getting from I love you / I hate you to I do. The duo had already been paired up by the studio a few times, so they were very comfortable together on screen. The result is an even more playful collaboration that veers from thoughtful to joyously absurd.

Sothern would also star in another romcom at RKO in '37 called THERE GOES THE GROOM- that time she teamed up with Burgess Meredith. But her best work during this phase of her career was with Raymond. Though the two stars had plenty of musical talent, there are no musical offerings this time. The focus is strictly on the newspaper reporter plot, and the obstacles that seem to prevent them from getting hitched.

One of the obstacles is Sothern's boss, portrayed with wild glee by Richard Lane. He schemes and conspires with another reporter on his staff (Frank Jenks) to keep the lovebirds from marrying. In the film's uproarious opening sequence, we see how the couple's wedding is stopped by a phony shooting in which two actors hired by Lane disrupt the nuptials. The "killer" wife runs off and Sothern chases after her for the story. Raymond is not pleased that he's been jilted, and Sothern soon learns there was no real shooting.

When Sothern goes crawling back to Raymond, he wants nothing to do with her and has now taken up with an ethnic dancer. Beautiful Joan Woodbury is cast as the dancer, and during a sensational scene at a nightclub she performs a Toreador number.

Sothern shows up at the club to push her way back into Raymond's life, and here is when they get embroiled in another shooting that involves the club's owner (Bradley Page). The altercation is real. Page has offed his former business associate, and he intends to also murder the man's beautiful widow (Marla Shelton) who is due profits from the club.

A bit later, when Sothern shows up at Shelton's hotel room, Shelton has just been shot. Sothern is quickly mixed up in the situation and takes a bullet herself! Naturally, this is where Raymond realizes he still does love Sothern and still does want to marry her. However, Sothern's boss will try once again to break them up, but he does not succeed. After another misunderstanding, the pair reconcile and finally tie the knot.

Some of the hotel scenes in the last part of the story are elaborately staged. The camera follows characters down long hallways, outside doors, over balcony railings and in through French doors. The sets are beautifully constructed for this motion picture, and all the actors look quite beautiful.

RKO's finished product is as polished and as good as anything MGM was turning out at this time. I did like how despite some of the seriousness of the crimes committed, the writer gave Raymond fun bits impersonating a Frenchman when trying to investigate who shot the two ladies. Gene Raymond was an underrated talent who deserves more credit as a leading man, musician and comedian.

The Street with No Name (1948)

One way street

[15 May 2024]

At one point Lloyd Nolan's character, a top investigator with the FBI, looks at a map on the wall. It's a map that details an area of skid row in fictional Center City where undercover agents Mark Stevens and John McIntire will temporarily take up residence. The map has street names on it, and Nolan mentions a few of those streets. They're not anonymous thoroughfares, as the title would suggest.

The title comes from a memorandum on the rise of gangsterism after the war, which was written by FBI director J. Edgar Hoover. Hoover's note not only provides the allegorical title but serves as an introduction to the main narrative. Nolan is reprising the role he played three years earlier in Fox's THE HOUSE ON 92ND STREET...yes, another titular street. But unlike the first film which details wartime espionage, the focus of this story switches to modern urban America and the war on gangland crime.

In a way this story is not much different than the types of stories that were produced by the truckload in Hollywood during the early to mid-1930s. You know the set-up: there's a big time thug...here, played by Richard Widmark, continuing the villainy he established in KISS OF DEATH.

Widmark has a group of eager beaver hoods who let him do the thinking and give all the orders, something he tells Stevens when Stevens infiltrates the gang and becomes the newest member.

McIntire's character stays largely out of sight and is just nearby for Stevens to pass information to, and this occurs in a few different ways. Stevens may flash a match light signal to McIntire across an alley through the windows of their respective flophouse rooms. Or Stevens may discretely meet McIntire near a trash can on a corner, then leave a matchbook with info about the gang's latest planned stickup printed on it.

But when Stevens' cover is compromised by a crooked city commissioner (Howard Smith), he's in trouble and McIntire must spring into action with help from Nolan and the rest of the feds. The commissioner hangs around the local police department then helps Widmark and his pals stay one step ahead of the law. There's a good scene where Widmark cons Smith into murdering Stevens, to solve their problem. They've gotten in too deep to turn back.

Most of the gangland activity depicted on screen is filmed on location in the greater Los Angeles area at night. Very little of what we see is done in a studio soundstage, so this increases the realism and atmosphere of the story. Most scenes are populated with men, and very few women are glimpsed during the proceedings. In fact there are no female sex workers or innocent female bystanders in any of the street scenes.

The only female character that gets any real attention is the wife of Widmark's character, played by Barbara Lawrence. She is just there to screech in the domestic scenes and end up beaten to a pulp by Widmark. The beating occurs during a moment of rage when Widmark thinks she's been tipping off the feds. This is before he learns Stevens is a mole.

I didn't think this scene of Widmark going ape on Lawrence added much to the film, especially since we never really see Lawrence again after that. There is no real lasting impact, and she is not fully developed as a character in her own right, needing or seeking justice.

Most of this is just a by-the-numbers G-men versus the hoods tale, the type we've seen countless times before. What gives the film its edge is all the authentic outdoor filming and Stevens' earnest performance. The main idea, of course, is that crime ultimately doesn't pay, even during an elaborately staged showdown inside a warehouse.

Suspicion (1941)

A feeling or thought that something is possible, likely or true

[14 May 2024]

I've always been annoyed by the studio dictated re-do ending, and to be honest, still am. The picture's original ending distressed test audiences who did not want Cary Grant to really be a villain. Cad yes, but murderer no. Never mind the fact he spends most of the picture lying to and deceiving a sweet young society girl (played by Joan Fontaine).

Fontaine earned her only Academy Award for this performance, and she became the only star to earn an Oscar under Hitchcock's direction. Most considered this a consolation prize for not nabbing the statuette a year earlier for REBECCA, her other collaboration with Hitch; sort of like how James Stewart won for THE PHILADELPHIA STORY a year after he should have won for MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON.

This is not to say, however, that Fontaine doesn't give a strong performance for she certainly does. Her Lina goes from shy and naive to more confident and assertive, until at last she has become an astute critical thinker who comes to believe, to suspect, that her new husband (Grant) is not only an opportunist, but is someone quite capable of killing for money.

Balancing out the tension and ongoing suspicion, we have some decent supporting performances from the rest of the cast. Cedric Hardwicke, in limited screen time as Fontaine's father, is occasionally bowled over by his daughter's choices and ultimately leaves her a small inheritance upon his death.

Dame May Whitty, previously seen as Miss Froy in Hitchcock's THE LADY VANISHES, is on hand as Fontaine's mother. She doesn't really have much meaningful dialogue, but makes the most of her scenes with her expressive eyes, especially when she is around Fontaine's new hubby.

The supporting player who gets the most to do is Nigel Bruce as an old chum of Grant's who is in the process of being swindled by Grant before his untimely demise. I think it hurts the film that Bruce's character is killed off screen. I suppose that choice was made in order to continue the mystery of whether or not Grant was the culprit, but they still could have filmed the death of Bruce's character in a creative way with shadows without showing the killer's face. I just feel the story loses some of its edge, when the most gruesome crime is not exactly shown, which means there may be a whole lot to suspicious activity going on, but no real menace or outright danger.

Hitchcock would usually storyboard key sequences in great detail. But whenever there was a missing plot point, he just glossed over it by using a MacGuffin. Personally, I think the MacGuffins denote laziness; an easy way for the director and his writers not to be well-versed on scientific facts and political or legal details, so those details will never have to be fully fleshed out on screen in his films. If I as a filmmaker don't entirely know the subject matter, I can create a make-believe ambiguous MacGuffin then I don't have to explain key details that would help the audience understand what's truly at stake.

I think in SUSPICION, too many key details are left out. We are not told how Bruce's character came into money, and why Grant hadn't tried to glom on to his fortune before. If he had, maybe he'd have no need for Fontaine's money. Also, we are not told much about Grant's relationship with his cousin (Leo G. Carroll), the employer Grant embezzles from, and why Carroll did not attempt to get his money back from Fontaine.

Of course the most implausible part of the film is the ending, which to be fair, was not what Hitchcock intended. He did intend for Grant's character to be a murderer and to kill Fontaine while traveling at high speed in their car.

The main reason the studio ending doesn't work is because it gives Fontaine no real reason to have suspected him of wrongdoing as long as she did. It means she is a bad judge of character if she had all along been married to a man who really loved her; she ultimately comes across as having a faithless heart in this marriage.

Not only does the faux ending destroy her credibility as a character, it also says one quick explanation from him on the edge of the road will solve everything, so why didn't she just have a talk with him earlier to voice her suspicions?

The only way this story actually works and she doesn't lose her credibility or seem preposterous is if she's been right all along. So when she gets into that car, after having not consumed the milk, she is willing to commit a form of suicide to die for love. That would have been a more devastating conclusion for a mousy society girl who was never going to have the happily ever after that most normal gals enjoy.

Accused of Murder (1956)

Vera Ralston stands accused

[13 May 2024]

While the story does have a moral tone, the characters are all morally compromised. So if you find something about one of them to root for, there is also something in them to dislike. But that is part of what makes this crime picture by Republic Pictures an interesting one to watch.

The studio's top in-house director Joe Kane had been assigned overall production duties. It was not the first time he'd worked with queen of the lot Vera Ralston, nor was it the first time he'd directed leading man David Brian. In fact, a short time earlier, they'd collaborated on a rousing western drama called TIMBERJACK. In TIMBERJACK and in ACCUSED OF MURDER, Ralston plays a singer who gets mixed up with baddies.

It doesn't matter if it's a frontier saloon or a gangster's posh supper club, she is equally glamorous in either setting. Her dubbed musical numbers inject considerable energy to the proceedings. And her breathy line deliveries are a guilty pleasure.

The beginning scenes in ACCUSED OF MURDER quickly establish the fact this is a noir, though filmed in Trucolor and photographed with a new panoramic process called Naturama-- which was Republic's answer to CinemaScope. The dark colors and widescreen mise-en-scène allow us to gather more details about the characters. At key intervals Kane and cameraman Bud Thackery provide us with dizzying pans that emphasize the disoriented nature of Ralston's character when she is accused of killing a lonely admirer (Sidney Blackmer).

We are supposed to feel sympathy for Ralston's character, because she's a foreigner who could be deported at any minute. Blackmer wouldn't stop pestering her and he even had the nerve of giving her a diamond engagement ring when she just wanted to drive home and take a bubble bath. Later when she faces a murder rap for Blackmer's death, we can see that this is most inconvenient for her. She seems rather innocent and her pleas that she's being framed might engender more sympathy.

David Brian plays a detective, who along with his assistant (Lee Van Cleef), is assigned to investigate. Brian is encouraged to ask a few questions and then have Ralston booked before the next new episode of I Love Lucy. This is something Van Cleef is only too happy to help facilitate, since he doesn't like foreign gals with thick accents stinking up their town.

However, Brian finds himself attracted to Ralston and wants to clear her. The irony here is that Ralston actually did pull the trigger, which we don't find out till the end when she finally confesses. Because she claims it was an accident and there's nobody around to dispute it, she is not indicted by a grand jury...which means she can make her next set at the club and pursue a romance with Brian without prison bars coming between them.

One thing I found intriguing was how brutal the supporting characters are written and performed. The story takes place in an unspecified city, but screenwriter W. R. Burnett, working from his own novel Vanity Row, drops hints that it's Chicago. Burnett had also written Little Caesar and High Sierra, so it's no wonder the characters here are just as corrupt and mean-spirited. At one point Brian punches Van Cleef in the face, when they disagree on procedure.

At the same time there is a subplot involving a hood (played to perfection by Warren Stevens) who had been sent by a mob boss to rub out Blackmer...except Ralston offed the sap instead. Stevens has been seen leaving the scene by a dance hall gal (Virginia Grey); she thinks she can tie him to the killing and turn a sweet profit.

Only Stevens doesn't take to having the squeeze put on him. When he is unable to 'reason' with her and get rid of her with a C note, he punches Grey in the face which causes her to lose her job (who wants to dance with a girl who's all black and blue?). Later she calls him for more money, so he meets up with her again...but this time, he clubs her in the head. Yeah, you don't mess with this guy!

One thing I really enjoyed about the film was David Brian's central performance as the detective. Brian reminds me of Charles Bickford; these are men who could be very tough on and off screen. Brian plays it hard in his scenes with Van Cleef, and he enjoys some cat-and-mouse with Stevens.

Also, Brian is compassionate during the part where he saves Grey's life after she's been clobbered; then reveals his soft human side in the more loving scenes with Ralston. He really does render a multi-faceted portrayal, but never once does he lose the toughness.

As for Vera Ralston, I don't think she was highly tuned into the script. Her work's passable but not inspired. Behind the scenes, as the wife of Republic mogul Herbert Yates, she had to deal with considerable criticism from the studio's board members. Though she had releases in 1955 and 1956, there was almost a two-year gap between TIMBERJACK, released in early February '55 and ACCUSED OF MURDER which hit screens in late December '56.

Perhaps Yates thought his wife needed to take a temporary break. I suppose the time off caused Ralston to reflect on her experience in the motion picture industry and whether it was worth putting her heart into it. Vera Ralston was a lovely woman in real life who would never be accused of murdering anyone. But she was accused of killing a few good movies.

Great Day (1945)

Eleanor Roosevelt is coming

[12 May 2024]

Flora Robson and Eric Porter star as a middle-aged couple in England during the Second World War. GREAT DAY was filmed in Britain by RKO and was released in the U. K. in April 1945, while the war was still going on. However, it did not have its American release until a year and a half later, in the fall of 1946, quite some time after the war had ended. As a result, it probably didn't resonate with U. S. audiences the way it did when it was first seen in Britain.

Robson and Porter are of course, brilliant. Porter is a man stuck in the past, still trying to live off the glory of his military service in WWI. He is struggling to step out of the shadows. In direct contrast to this, his wife lives in the present and finds fulfillment in their small community working with other wives as part of the Women's Institute.

For those who do not know, the Women's Institute was a domestic organization that turned agricultural products into 'care packages' sent to soldiers fighting abroad. The short-lived television series Home Fires is also about the British Women's Institute; in that story, the women were known for making jam.

In addition to Robson and Porter, the film also features the couple's daughter (played by Sheila Sim). She's caught up in a rather unlikely love triangle. She has been offered marriage by a much older man (Walter Fitzgerald) who promises financial security; but her heart really belongs to a poor soldier (Philip Friend) her own age. In addition to the main family, we see other families in the community-- especially the other wives that Robson's character interacts with as they prepare for a special arrival.

The arrival involves Eleanor Roosevelt. Supposedly the American first lady is visiting England, and she would like to see how the Women's Institute of this particular community does its charitable work. Mrs. Roosevelt's impending visit is announced at the very beginning of the story; and she does not show up until the end-- just out of camera range, naturally.

In the meanwhile, Robson and the other women try to determine the best way to prepare for the arrival. There are several petty squabbles and various bits of gossip that threaten to disrupt their solidarity.

What makes GREAT DAY work so well is how humanized the women are in the story. Yes, it's a propaganda piece, but its less about ideals and more about presenting the characters with realism. We are definitely supposed to feel patriotic at the end, and I think the filmmakers do a good job instilling such feelings in us. It's a unique snapshot in time, just as it was when it was first screened in the U. S. after the war had been won, and the women had gone back to their regular routines. Though I am sure they had many more great days ahead.

Three Smart Girls (1936)

A plan to bring divorced parents back together

[11 May 2024]

I think when you watch something like this, you have to understand who the film was designed to appeal to when it was made. Deanna Durbin, in her very first feature film, is cast as an ideal teenager with a seemingly ideal life. With her smile and singing voice, it's easy to see why she was an instant hit with moviegoers. The target audience for such a film would have been other girls her age, who had yet to transition to adulthood. While experiencing the pangs of adolescence, these girls would have been prone to mischief and plenty of crushes on boys.

Durbin was 14 when THREE SMART GIRLS was in production at Universal, and had just turned 15 when the film was released into theaters. We cannot evaluate her as a seasoned performer, for this is just the beginning of her movie career; but she has good instincts and a natural way in front of the camera with her costars. On that she can be judged.

The story of THREE SMART GIRLS involves three female siblings who live in Switzerland with their mother (Nella Walker), and are separated from a wealthy American father (Charles Winninger) who resides in New York City. Durbin is the youngest of the three sisters; the older two are played by Nan Grey and Barbara Read. The girls get along rather well, almost too well with none of the rivalries or competing agendas we might expect. Instead, their conflict involves a wish to reunite their divorced parents.

Reuniting the parents becomes an urgent matter when they learn from a governess (Lucile Watson) that dear old dad is set to take a new wife. The fiancee is a gold digging vamp played to the hilt by Binnie Barnes. Aiding and abetting Barnes' schemes to land a rich husband is her equally vain mother (Alice Brady, who also plays her role to the hilt). In fact, Barnes and Brady are such a scene stealing duo, it's almost a letdown when their plans are foiled at the end, since we know they won't be back for the sequels.

Contemporary critics mentioned the film's emphasis on sentimentality, but I think there is a good dose of adult humor mixed in...especially when Barnes and Brady are on screen, as well as Mischa Auer who's cast as a drunken and impoverished Hungarian count. Indeed, there are enough eccentric side characters to keep the thing from becoming too saccharine.

Some handsome young leading men are included to give the older sisters romantic partners. Durbin's character does not have a substantial romance until the third part of the trilogy, HERS TO HOLD, which wouldn't hit screens until 1943 when she was seven years older. One older sister's suitor is played by Ray Milland on loan from Paramount, who was a last-minute substitution for Louis Hayward who bowed out due to illness. Milland portrays a well-to-do lord who owns considerable property in Australia.

Sometimes the girls get a bit overemotional in their scenes when the script requires them to deal with possible loss or rejection. At one point Durbin runs away when she is unable to cope with the fact that Winninger seems to be going full speed ahead with the wedding to Barnes.

I never got the sense the girls were too spoiled or acted entitled, though there probably was some of that in their general demeanor. But I did get the sense they were daddy's little drama queens when something didn't quite go their way! However, that's part of what gives the film its charm and probably is a good reason why it connected with its intended audience, other girls who wanted things to be perfect and stay that way.

Drango (1957)

"They sure make a man feel at home."

[10 May 2024]

Jeff Chandler portrays the title character, a Union major who comes to a Georgia town nine months after the Civil War has ended. He is there to carry out plans Lincoln made before his assassination to rebuild the south. The Reconstruction period lasted primarily from 1865 to 1877, though some of the rebuilding dragged on longer.

This western motion picture from United Artists was made by Chandler's own production company. As an independent feature that feels like an extended western television episode, we see how efforts at rebuilding the South did not occur easily. Especially since there was distrust and suspicion.

After having their crops burned by Sherman's troops and their storage facilities raided, the people in Kennesaw Pass have lost their ability to feed themselves. A cold winter will soon set in, and if they don't take help offered by Chandler and his assistant, a captain played by John Lupton, they'll die.

Chandler and Lupton face considerable opposition from the son (Ronald Howard) of the town judge (Donald Crisp) who incites locals against reconstruction under the North's terms. At first Crisp sits silently on the sidelines, either not realizing or quietly condoning the extent of his son's actions. But gradually, he is moved to support Chandler and stand up against Howard, whom he recognizes as an enemy of their people, preventing the town from going beyond current hardships.

This was Ronald Howard's first American film, fourteen years after the death of his well-known father Leslie Howard who'd had great success in Hollywood during the 1930s. There is no attempt to explain his British sounding accent which he doesn't conceal, but we can overlook that, particularly since Howard renders the film's best performance. He's not a scene stealing villain, but delivers a thoughtful performance as a misguided man whose politics ultimately do him in.

As for Jeff Chandler, he's a likable fellow in a likable role, but he overdoes the dramatic aspects of the main scenario. He is either intentionally calm and reflective...or full throttle, such as a scene where he shoves a bartender into a wall after the guy is reluctant to serve him some whiskey. Chandler performs in subdued 'off' mode, or else in full blast 'on' mode; there's no middle ground to his performance. He hurts the film and gives us a less credible human being on screen than might otherwise have been attained by a more naturalistic actor.

Two leading ladies appear at key moments. One is played by Joanne Dru, whose character gets off on the wrong foot with Chandler's. She's upset when her father (Morris Ankrum), a Northern ally, is killed by Howard's secret lynch mob after Chandler had promised to protect him. Eventually she overcomes her hostility and allows herself romantic feelings, though I found it implausible she'd stay in the region since she no longer has family here, there's a rationing of food supplies and other basic necessities by a nearby military post, and she might have a better chance somewhere else.

The second leading lady is Julie London in an intriguing role as a southern vixen who owns a large plantation. Though this is supposed to be set in Georgia, the plantation scenes were filmed on location in Louisiana. London vamps it up at the manse, consorting with Howard and his gang. But she also gets bit by the love bug, falling for Lupton, though he's on the other side. Howard forces her to prove her loyalty to the South and lure Lupton into a trap which results in Lupton's death. We don't see London after that, but her final scene is a doozy, when she realizes she is about to cause the murder of the man she loves most.

There are countless other minor roles and extras in the town scenes. Most of these characters are played by folks who worked primarily in television westerns during this time. All of them are white, which I found a bit unbelievable. After all, this is the South. Why not see what the recently freed former slaves in the region were doing; or were they all driven off? It seems incredible that Chandler is here to "fix" the South, when one of the main aspects of the recent war (the abolishment of slavery) isn't even acknowledged on screen.

After Howard's character is killed by his own father (Crisp), there is a short coda where Chandler has now assumed full control of the town. He is leading the beleaguered folks to the military fort to petition for more supplies. It all ends on a hopeful note, if not a somewhat contrived note.

Despite liking the film, I found DRANGO to be a bit of a frustrating experience. It's barely a good film, made on a modest budget. It could've been a great film; and I think if they'd had more money to show us things like the burnings and the killings- which all happen off screen- and there had been more plausible dialogue; a more natural performance by the leading man; and stronger direction, it would have been the great classic it should have been.

Double Indemnity (1944)

Compensation for damages related to a specific accident

[9 May 2024]

DOUBLE INDEMNITY is based on a James Cain novel, and its screenplay was co-written by Raymond Chandler and Billy Wilder. With seven Oscar nominations Wilder felt certain his production would walk off with the year's award for Best Picture. But like MADAME CURIE, it was entirely shut out by Academy voters and did not earn one single Oscar.

Paramount's other big hit of 1944, GOING MY WAY, took top honors; and its director Leo McCarey was honored instead of Wilder. In fact, Wilder was so angry he tripped McCarey on the way to the podium to accept his Oscar. Can't say I blame Wilder, because he should have been recognized; though it probably boiled down to studio politics since Paramount's executives had encouraged employees to vote for the feel-good religious picture over this more cynical crime yarn.

The story begins when Barbara Stanwyck's character wants to get rid of her husband, and if she can somehow make it look like an accident, she will be able to cash in on a double indemnity clause. For those who don't know-- an indemnity is a security or protection against a loss. If there is a certain type of accidental death, the payout will be twice as great.

In order to carry out her diabolical plan, Stanwyck needs help from a handsome insurance man (Fred MacMurray). At first MacMurray balks at the idea, insisting he is no murderer. But this changes when he gets drawn into her web of deception.

Soon they've decided her husband's death should occur during a train trip he is scheduled to take. At the station MacMurray poses as the injured husband, whom they've already killed and stashed in the trunk of Stanwyck's car. Stanwyck lovingly sees her "husband" off in front of witnesses, then drives away with the dead body.

In the next part MacMurray hobbles to the back of the train, and jumps off, making it seem as if the husband took an accidental tumble off the moving locomotive. It's the perfect crime. Meanwhile Stanwyck drives the car around with the dead body, which they place along the track with the crutches. It all goes according to plan until MacMurray's boss (Edward G. Robinson) starts investigating.

Robinson doesn't think it really was an accident. He starts poking around to find out what really happened the night the husband died. Some of the MacMurray-Robinson interaction is interesting to watch, because there's a warm father-son type bond shared between them. Robinson's character probably doesn't want MacMurray's character to be guilty, but it is his duty to uncover the facts.

We don't see MacMurray full of regret until near the end. After he regains his conscience, he goes to Stanwyck's home to set things right. There's a quarrel, and she shoots him, but he also shoots her. Realizing he's killed Stanwyck and knowing he has been shot himself, MacMurray makes his way back to the office to record a full confession into a dictaphone machine. He is critically injured in the film's final moments, after the confession has been completed and Robinson has arrived.

DOUBLE INDEMNITY was the first of two collaborations between Fred MacMurray and Billy Wilder. They would team up again sixteen years later for THE APARTMENT. That time Wilder would earn Oscars for Best Picture, Director and Screenplay. I don't think Leo McCarey tripped him on the way to the podium.

Stolen Holiday (1937)

Far reaching swindles

[8 May 2024]

This melodrama from Warner Brothers has the usual romantic angst with some financial conflicts mixed in. Based on the Stavisky Affair, an economic scandal that rocked France in the mid-1930s, we're given a tale that puts Kay Francis in a situation that would otherwise seem contrived if it were not true.

However, I do suspect the studio writers embellished the original scenario considerably, in order to create some sort of upbeat ending. For in real life, Stavisky's wife, the model for Francis's character, lost her husband in a questionable suicide (or was it really murder?) and ended up on trial. Here, she doesn't face prosecution but has to live down the shame of her husband's crooked exploits and try to make up for it by returning money to the people he swindled. Once she has done this, then she is able to take up with another man (Ian Hunter) and get her happily ever after.

Claude Rains has been cast in the Stavisky-inspired role of Stefan Orloff. He's a Russian conman who arrives in Paris with a plan. That plan is to bilk as many investors as he can in order to amass his own fortune. Also, he owns a string of pawn shops which are highly unethical. In order to gain financial power, he uses an ornamental fashion plate (Francis) to attract influential people and entangle them in his shady schemes.

During the first half of the film Francis doesn't realize the level of crime she's enabling. She has an idea that Rains' activities are not all above board but she considers him a friend who helped her become more successful in the world of high couture. With his assistance she was able to open a prestigious firm and make a fortune of her own.

But later, when Rains' misdeeds are exposed and he's in need of help, Francis agrees to marry him to assure his reputation with powerful people remains intact. In some ways the story is a commentary about how commerce and politics intersect. But because Kay Francis is the star, the focus stays on the glamorous aspects of the story, without any deep examination of how Rains' character is causing economic hardship for others.

Except for a scene that takes place after Rains' death, where protestors trash Francis's place of business, there is not much chaos though I would imagine there was plenty when Stavisky died and outraged citizenry demanded justice. Of course this is not a documentary, it's a Hollywood version of the facts.

Character actress Alison Skipworth is on hand as a well-meaning advisor pal of Francis, and she gets off a few good lines here and there. Rains, who is not technically playing the romantic lead (that honor goes to Hunter) also has some good lines.

Rains' performance is the glue that keeps the film from falling apart, particularly when things get sappy during an extended middle sequence where Francis and Hunter make goo goo eyes at each other during a holiday in the countryside. Incidentally, this was the only motion picture collaboration for Francis and Rains; while this was the third of seven pictures she and Hunter made between 1935 and 1938.

Smartest Girl in Town (1936)

"I can see the handwriting on the wedding cake."

[7 May 2024]

This was the third of five collaborations that costarred Gene Raymond and Ann Sothern at RKO between 1935 and 1937. Except for the first picture which was more of a musical revue and included other specialty acts, these films tended to be romantic comedies with an occasional musical number. SMARTEST GIRL IN TOWN only contains one tune, a lovely song written by Raymond called 'Will You?' which he serenades to Sothern on ukulele.

The emphasis here is on comedy with plenty of screwball situations for the main couple, as well as a seemingly endless supply of wisecracks delivered by third-billed supporting player Helen Broderick. In the story Broderick is Sothern's older sister and has an estranged husband (Harry Jans). Her primary focus is making sure Sothern lands a wealthy man and doesn't face the financial problems she and her husband have. Broderick was 17 years older than Sothern. In another film the following year, Broderick will be cast as Sothern's more age appropriate aunt.

In addition to Broderick and Jans, Erik Rhodes is on hand as a European baron with a sloppy command of the English language. He and Sothern are being pushed towards the altar by Broderick, though it's clear Sothern doesn't love him. We also have Eric Blore, in delightful scene stealing mode, as Raymond's valet who masquerades as an advertising exec. He offers Sothern a job at a considerable salary, bankrolled by Raymond, so that Raymond can get close to her on various modeling jobs.

Some of the greatest comedy is based on misunderstandings, and this film has plenty of amusing ones. Sothern thinks Raymond is a male model and views him as nothing more than an attractive coworker. She assumes he is as poor as she is, not knowing that he's from a well-to-do background and owns a swank hotel as well as the yacht where they met on the first job.

If she knew who he really was, she'd dump the baron in a hurry and be much nicer to Raymond, since she actually loves him. Part of what makes this work so well on screen is that Sothern is basically a gold digger and Raymond is basically a rich cad, but underneath it all they are genuinely good people so we root for them to get together.

It's obvious they will end up together, for as Broderick declares at one point, 'the handwriting is on the wedding cake.' But there's this whole zany farce that gets them from meet cute to meet the guests at the wedding. In the film's screwiest moment, Sothern marries Raymond in a bed at the hotel after she thinks he's dying because he's splashed ketchup on his face.

The film's most genuine moment, though, is not the wedding scene but a very nice sequence a bit earlier where the main characters have a date in Sothern's apartment, in which she gives him a shampoo and rinse. The best scenes are ones in which the audience is not told but shown something important. During the hair cleaning, we see Sothern mothering Raymond, and Raymond realizing Sothern has more depth than other girls he's known. The smartest people in town can see this is a relationship that will go the distance.

Enchantment (1948)

Memories of how it will be again

[6 May 2024]

Producer Samuel Goldwyn purchased the rights to British author Rumer Godden's novel 'A Fugue in Time' which served as the basis for this film. For those who don't know a fugue is defined as something introduced by one part, then successively taken up by others who develop the interweaving parts. This might apply to a musical composition or in this case a written work.

Godden has structured the story in parts, so that what we see introduced at the beginning is developed by other characters in subsequent parts. The structure is actually not as complex as it may sound. If you think about it, most daytime soap operas operate this way where semi-connected characters develop similar themes in separate arcs that refer back to each other. Here Godden separates some of the arcs by the passage of time.

The main character is the one played by Goldwyn contract player David Niven. This would be Niven's last Goldwyn film, having been under contract to the producer since the mid-1930s. It is not an ideal role for Niven, since he has to wear plenty of old-age makeup in the sequences set in the contemporary era of WWII; and he does not get the girl (played by Teresa Wright, another Goldwyn contractee).

Interestingly, Wright tangled with Goldwyn behind the scenes and refused to promote the picture when it was released in late 1948, so in early 1949, Goldwyn terminated her employment, which forced her to freelance with other companies.

Perhaps the reason Wright didn't feel so enthused about the project is because while she is second-billed and plays the romantic scenes set in the past with Niven, she is overshadowed by two female costars. One of them is Jayne Meadows who does a superb job playing Niven's controlling sister, scheming to keep him and Wright apart at every turn. Meadows gives such a convincing performance as a shrew one wonders why she wasn't nominated for an Oscar.

The other female star of the picture is Evelyn Keyes, on loan from Columbia. Keyes plays a grand niece of Niven in the modern-day scenes. She's an American relative of the family who's in England to help with the war effort, driving an ambulance. She's a porto-feminist, dedicated to her duties on the front lines, not interested in romantic nonsense with a man.

But despite her best efforts at resisting, she falls for a handsome soldier (Farley Granger) and is encouraged by Niven not to let love slip away. Like Meadows, Keyes gets several profound dramatic moments to play, especially at the end when she chases off after Granger during a catastrophic air raid. She finds him near a bridge just as it's bombed. What a memorable scene.

By comparison, Wright has no real powerful moments to play, since the romantic storyline involving her and Niven is fairly by the numbers. And after she thinks she has lost Niven, she just disappears.

Overall the film is a tad too long, at 100 minutes, when it easily could have been told in 85 to 90 minutes. But in this case, the slowness of the piece is helped by the striking cinematographic images provided by Gregg Toland (it was his last film, he died before it was released into theaters). Toland's chiaroscuro images are worth lingering on, so even if the plot isn't moving along as briskly as it might have, we are still rewarded for our patience.

Incidentally, the novel suggests that Wright's character is the illegitimate daughter of Nivens' and Meadows' father. In the film, she is an orphan ward taken into the family, and thus an adopted sister. But the novel implies she is a blood relative, which means her relationship with her 'brother' would be incestuous.

In that regard, we would have to root for the controlling sister (Meadows) who succeeds in breaking them up. But in the movie, we are supposed to root for the would-be lovers and feel hopeful that when Niven dies during the air raid at the end, perhaps he has been reunited in the afterlife with Wright and they're starting a new fugue.