Reviews

Here's an enjoyable and fun little episode for classic TV fans. It's very much on the light side, and silly puns and asides abound throughout.

Seems like someone has strangled a beloved (or was she?) children's' author with her own typewriter ribbon -- what's that!? The unfortunate lady was just in the process of launching her own television program and also changing publishers. Of course, suspects abound and the actors portraying them are television stalwarts who are always welcome to see.

We have George Hamilton as a beatnik poet, Lola Albright as a sexy secretary, Morgan Brittany as a precocious preschooler, Alvy Moore as a sleazy photographer, Walter Pidgeon as an unscrupulous publisher and more. It's no great shakes, but a fun way to spend fifty minutes.

Well, this early talkie netted La Swanson an Oscar nomination for Best Actress -- her second AA nod in her first "talkie." This melodrama was later remade with Bette Davis as That Certain Woman. which I recognized after about an hour into it. It was recently screened on TCM as a part of their showcasing of films restored by the George Eastman House in Rochester New York -- a few miles from where I'm typing this.

Here Swanson is cast in a then-popular clichéd role of a working girl trying to make good in the world who is left disappointed by a wealthy lad. Along the way she manages to bear his child, and has hopes to raise it alone. Story lines like this abounded in those Depression years, and young women and girls just loved to wallow in this stuff. Apparently after the debacle of the unfinished Queen Kelley, Swanson wanted some quick cash, and enlisted Goulding to helm it for her.

And she ended up with an audience-pleasing success, and showed in her first talking role that she was truly a talent, and not simply a fashion icon of the day. Swanson actually got incredibly real in this, showing both a feisty quality and a soft, sensitive one that's surprising. And bravely, she sings too. To the accompaniment of a player piano according to the script. And her voice is fine, even if the recording equipment was primitive and distorted. of course, she looks fantastic, and wears some spectacular costumes throughout. Star quality abounds in this woman certainly.

And kudos should go to the fantastic photography, which sometimes became cloaked in shadows and darkness. I was pleasantly surprised at how appealing the movie looked. At times it almost reminded me of Dracula (1932).

And yes, there's a down side provided by many of the supporting players who mug and overact in ways popular in silent movies. But on the bright side, an honorable mention goes to the sweet and adorable little child who played Swanson's son. Whoever coached this little boy did a great job, because the kid was extremely natural and also poignant when the story required it.

I'm sure The Trespasser had the shop girls of 1929 crying buckets of tears.

**** out of *****

Here's a "no-budget" independent production designed to showcase both the singing and racing skills of good ol' boy country crooner Marty Robbins. He's obviously a talented singer, and apparently a passable race car driver. But he should never have attempted acting, as evidenced here. He has absolutely no charisma, nor the good looks to let the viewer forgive him his stilted screen presence. Robbins could be reading off cue cards, judging by his performance in "Hell On Wheels." Fans of his music can enjoy the four songs he performs, even though the staging is dull as dishwater.

Then we have the strange casting of hunky John Ashley as Marty's brother. They look like they came from different planets altogether. And Ashley's character is written in such a way to make him a spoiled and petulant brat, constantly jealous of his more successful brother. Add to that a nagging and self-pitying mother who would drive the most devoted son to move to a different state, and Ashley's clueless wife, who lavishes attention on Marty instead of her handsome husband.

And they throw in an nearly almost completely unrelated subplot about another brother who works for the A.T.F. Department. This noxious sequence only exists to show how a backwoods moonshine still can be "blown up REAL good!" They even do it twice for good measure.

What entertainment value can be gleaned from this grade-Z effort can be found in two ways. The first being the Cinéma vérité scenes of early Nascar racing and its "salt-of-the-earth" fans. There are extended scenes of these simple folk filing into the stands and watching the races with great interest. It's a Tennessee fashion show!

The second element of enjoyment can be found in the music interludes by the one of the guest stars, The Stonemans, who were a family bluegrass group. The female guitar player kicks up her heels and dances in such an exuberant manner, that it's a riot. And her gold go-go boots are something! Connie Smith also sings two songs that are passable, but exceedingly dull in the staging. She deserved better.

But, by all means, PLEASE stick around for the closing musical number where Marty croons a song about butterflies to his nine-year-old niece. The reaction shots of the little girl reach a fever pitch as she soon pokes her right index finger well up her nose! And it's a medium shot with only her in the frame! Now there's Cinéma vérité for sure!

Wow. Here's a great little serio/comic offering from pre-WWII Great Britain in which both Charles Laughton and Vivien Leigh get to demonstrate the reasons why they were superstars. This movie will delight anyone who loves classic movies, as it really contains all the elements necessary to make it one of the finest movies from the Brits in the 1930's. There's high-octane and undiluted star power from the lead actors, a fast-paced, sensitive and witty script, fine photography that rivals the best done in Hollywood, distinctive and expert work from the supporting players, and some enjoyable musical numbers.

But first mention should go to top-billed Charles Laughton, who carries the film and puts his heart and soul into his performance. I certainly realize that many discriminating viewers of today may find his histrionics to be "over the top" or "ham." It's true that the man seems larger than life, with his often booming voice, hulking physicality and overstated expressions of emotion. Yet, we are still willingly taken in by him, as he is genius in evoking either pathos or disdain in the audience for his character. And he can be quite and thoughtful when the occasion calls for it, as evidenced in scenes late in the film. Quite a fantastic performance he gives here, and I think he's as good in this as in anything else he ever did.

Laughton portrays a London street performer who excels in "recitations" from the works of Shakespeare, Kipling and others. He has a "meet-cute" with beautiful Vivien Leigh during one of his performances, and they soon develop a friendship and later -- an act. In typical dramatic fashion, musical composer Rex Harrison discovers Leigh's character and eventually gets her onto the legitimate London stage. The crux of the drama arises over Laughton's disappointment at being left behind, and Leigh coming to terms with her lowly origins. Fairly standard plotting certainly, but the script and performances make it first-rate by steering clear of stereotypes and stock characters.

It's by no means a perfect little film, but still very enjoyable if only for the insight into London's West End in the 1930's. Laughton would be ill-served to be dismissed as a ham actor, certainly. Yes, he did shout and bellow in more than a few scenes, but it always comes out of the character. (I loved his recitation of "If" BTW!) He fantastic in the quiet moments, like when he gives the speech to all the others as he descends the stairs, or when he confesses his true desires to Leigh, or earlier when he tells her in the deserted home that "Life's a joke." All very poignant moments with much restraint exhibited on his part.

Not surprisingly, Vivien Leigh is breathtakingly beautiful, but she also shows great energy and emotion, plus a nicely acted transformation from street waif to a popular actress on the West End. When she shares the screen with Laughton, there's a feeling that anything may happen between these two volatile characters, each with his and her own personal demons. She can be raucous and violent at times, or graceful, sweet and thoughtful at others. I've read that she and Laughton were not particularly fond of one another, and it's strange how sometimes that fact can elevate each actor's performance to a higher level! Less lucky is "Sexy Rexy" Harrison, who is practically steamrolled over by the leads in his thankless role. Anyway, he looks great, and avoids bumping into the furniture. The other supporting players fare much better, as does an adorable trained terrier who steals every scene he's in. The American director Tim Whelan really managed to create a slice of London life that's engaging, entertaining and emotional.

I'd like to mention one little scene that struck my fancy. That's when all the buskers are at the pub after an evening work. Leigh has a line something like "It's all over." Then Laughton turns when he hears the tiny cockney voice saying, "She's right you know." He walks to the little old lady sitting in the corner, and she delivers a short speech about her and her family selling flowers when "the old queen" was alive. It's a neat little moment, put in for no reason that I can ascertain, since the old lady never figures into the story at all. I appreciate little scenes like that -- ones that easily could have been cut, but just add to the mosaic.

**** out of *****

What we have here with the British film "Dark Journey" is an espionage thriller set in WWI Europe that had this viewer scratching his head. From the nebulous title, to the confusing plot twists, to the dozen or so indistinct supporting characters, eventually makes it similar to a thick London fog.

The one reason why anyone would be excited about this movie today is the appearance of the young and delicately beautiful Vivien Leigh. She's cast as a Swiss (or French?) double (or triple?) agent for the British, I guess. Her front is as the proprietor of a swank dress shop, who ships her fashions across the channel to the Brits. When held up against an electric light, the dresses reveal secret intelligence sewn into the patterns. Probably the coolest plot device.

Enter Conrad Veidt as a double (or triple?) agent for the Germans, who becomes infatuated with Leigh and ultimately earns her affections. This of course complicates their missions, and causes great upheavals in their respective home offices. I've read that Vivien Leigh herself was confused by the plot, and couldn't fathom what her character's motivations were.

So, if you don't try to comprehend the machinations of the plot, there are some nifty scenes contained herein. The sequences set inside Leigh's dress shop are amusing with her two bickering assistants and her old maintenance man who eventually provides a surprise. I also enjoyed the scenes set in a boisterous beer hall complete with about a hundred extras all in character. And there's a great little supporting turn by Joan Gardner as a rival for the affections of Conrad Veidt. She's a beautiful actress with a great catty delivery who was soon to become Mrs. Zoltan Korda in real life and retire to a life in California society.

But I failed to buy into the unusual sight of Conrad Veidt and Vivien Leigh as a romantic couple, and the meandering plot becomes yawn-inducing eventually. Between the casting and the script, there's two strikes against the movie that it cannot overcome. But have faith -- greater things lie ahead for Miss Leigh! ** out of *****

In my attempt to catch up with everything directed by the brilliant Alfred Hitchcock, I put in my disk three of "Alfred Hitchcock: The Legend Begins." This is a fantastic box set that contains all (as far as I know) of his films from the U.K pre 1940. I had never seen "Jamaica Inn," and greatly looked forward to the experience -- if only for the first oddball pairing of Charles Laughton and Maureen O'Hara who were both soon to be immortalized in "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." Hitchcock is unable to disappoint his audience. What we find here is a spooky tale set in Cornwall in the early 19th Century, based loosely on a novel by Daphne Du Maurier -- who goes uncredited. Story features a murderous gang of hoodlums who prey upon ships that seek shelter in a nearby harbor during hazardous storms. The films opens with an exciting sequence depicting this activity which functions almost as a prologue to everything that follows, and really draws the audience into the story. Disturbing, dark and frightening as this prologue is, one can only wonder what will follow.

Next, in scenes perhaps inspired by Tod Browning's Dracula, a careening carriage whisks young Maureen O'Hara through the pitch black night. She insists that the driver deliver her to the Jamaica Inn, but he outright refuses to do so, and speeds right by the place. He lets her off nearby at the home of one Squire Pengallon, who he says will care for her. The haughty squire is played of course by Charles Laughton, who employs his unctuous charm to reassure the nonplussed O'Hara that all will be all right, and that he will escort her to her Aunt and Uncle at Jamaica Inn. Maureen O'Hara soon discovers that her Uncle functions as the ringleader of the gang, and her abused but devoted Aunt is an enabler to his illicit lifestyle.

From what I've read, Hitchcock wasn't too fond of this film, and didn't care for the direction Laughton took with his character. Nevertheless, Laughton remains fascinating to watch, as much of a "ham" as he is. His Squire registers as somewhat of a pathetic and yet supremely conceited character, and the ultimate revelation of what he's capable of comes as a real stunner. O'Hara is of course beautiful and feisty, as demonstrates that she has much more heart than just any glamorous young girl posing prettily for the camera.

A special mention should go to Emlyn Williams, who plays a despicable but magnetic ringleader of the cutthroat gang. I was really surprised and entertained by his contemporary attitude and swagger, which wouldn't seem out-of-place in a movie from the 21st Century.

So, a minor Hitchcock certainly, but also as good a thriller as anyone else was making at the time.

**** out of *****

I admit I was a Doris Wishman virgin till the other night, but "The Amazing Transplant" finally broke my cherry. Cheesy, smutty grind house fare like this comes as a breath of fresh air to a cult film enthusiast like myself. I watched it twice (at 70 minutes, not hard to do) just to make sure I absorbed every aspect of the film's dubious appeal. I was glad I did! Wishman's work here reminded me of early John Waters minus any of his dubious artistry. What is seen here is the the use of ordinary homes and apartments as sets, the shooting of street scenes without permits, actors providing their own wardrobe, and footage being shot without synced sound and then adding all dialog in post-production.

The story has nice average guy Arthur turning into a serial rapist and murderer for reasons no one can ascertain. Neither his concerned Mom, or his police detective Uncle, can fathom why Arthur is considered a suspect in the murder of his girlfriend since he is such a gentle soul. The worried Mom turns over Arthur's "little black book" to his Uncle, who goes about the task of interviewing the women listed in the directory. They all recount episodes (seen in flashback) of being raped by the once gentle Arthur, who becomes a sex maniac when he sees a woman sporting dangling gold earrings.

Fascinating in its sleaziness, if only because it transports the viewer back to the late 1960's, much in the way a home movie would. There's enough to enjoy in the costumes, decors, wallpapers and set decoration, all of which Wishman lavishes attention on, to keep viewers interested. There's even a few frames of a close-up of a carpet, with nothing on it but a little dust.

I laughed at the lingering shots of a telephone cradle, as someone speaks into the receiver off camera. Extended shots of the character's feet with ugly shoes or boots, and garbage-strewn sidewalks add elements of randomness. Wishman constantly relies on reaction shots of her characters, seldom focusing on any character delivering dialog. The over-dubbed dialog is heard spoken off camera throughout the entire proceedings.

Actually, some of the actors are attractive and exhibit a willingness to attempt a performance, including Brazilian Juan Fernandez as Arthur. He soon gave up acting and went behind the camera to become a cinematographer. But Larry Hunter as the pasty detective Uncle, and dour Linda Southern as the concerned Mother give absolutely toxic performances that really could make audiences run for the exits. Some of the actresses who play Arthur's victims seem attractive enough, but all their half-hearted struggling against him isn't convincing in the least.

** out of *****

Beautifully filmed and decorated, "The Bride Wore Red" makes a very pleasant and entertaining Joan Crawford vehicle from MGM and director Dorothy Arzner. It was based on an unproduced drama from Austrian playwright Ferenc Molnár, and it is kind of a reworking of the fairytale of Cinderella. This adaptation has decidedly toned down Molnár's story, converting Crawford's main character from a prostitute to a singer employed in a sleazy cabaret.

First and foremost, I'd like to note that Joan Crawford looks stunning in this movie, sporting a modified pageboy hairstyle, shoulder length and combed back without bangs and somewhat lighter in tone than usual. The style really exposes her aristocratic forehead to good advantage and frames her face perfectly. Her makeup is also certainly impeccable, and the beautiful costumes she wears suit her perfectly, and she can wear them like no other. Youthful, feminine and vivacious, Joan Crawford really lights up the screen in a manner very different from what today's viewer might expect.

An opening sequence at a gambling casino establishes the fact that a bored and decadent Count (the verbose George Zucco) believes that class differences are irrelevant and that clothes and surroundings make the person, and callow socialite (Robert Young, in the second of his four outing with Crawford) favors the theory that "breeding is everything." On a whim, they patronize the sleaziest music hall in Trieste, and after Young's exit, the Count stays to watch the floor show, and works up a plan.

Enter Joan Crawford as a nightclub singer who offers up a turgid ballad. The Count requests to meet the singer and he drunkenly asks to set her up with a full wardrobe for two weeks in a swanky Bavarian hotel, as part of a plan to personally prove to Young his theory that class doesn't matter. Since Crawford is struggling to put food on the table, she eagerly agrees to go along with Zucco's devious plan.

A romantic dilemma unfolds, as Crawford meets two very different young men -- Robert Young as the wealthy but engaged socialite, and Franchot Tone as a poor, but fun-loving local postman. It falls upon the wise cracking Tone to escort Crawford in a mule wagon to the remote hotel where she is to stay, since his little cousin -- the adorable Dickie Moore -- failed to deliver her telegram to the hotel's concierge.

After she is ensconced in a ritzy hotel suite, Crawford discovers, by one of those standard Hollywood coincidences, that the hotel maid assigned to her room is a former coworker of hers from the cabaret, who left that lifestyle after having a good hard look at herself and realizing that makeup would no longer cover the lines on her face. Played by Mary Phillips -- this character serves both as Crawford's conscience and subconscious, sometimes egging her on, and at other times, warning her off. The two seem to share a strong bond, although Crawford at times gets fairly angry with Phillips, and that leads to a few stand-offs that are quite entertaining.

Complicating Crawford's stay at the hotel are socialites Billie Burke, Reginald Owen and stunning Lynne Carver, who plays Robert Young's charming fiancée. The amazing Billie Burke is actually "cast against type" here, and plays a shrewd and sharp-tongued Countessa, who has her doubts about Crawford's background and inquires into her past. Burke appears as a mother figure to Carver, and attempts to protect the relationship between Young and his fiancée, and is determined to sabotage the attraction that springs up between Crawford and Young.

The movie effortlessly alternates scenes of Joan Crawford with either of her male costars in a brisk pace that keeps the proceedings lively. Both romances appear plausible, and some neatly clever foreshadowing is expertly inserted throughout. Watch for the countryside scene where Crawford playfully sticks her face into a mountain stream, and Young's reaction to the sight. It's a real highlight and director Arzner makes it both nicely subtle and affecting.

And one more minor detail I'd like to point out regards how this movie, like other classic movies, deals with tying up all the loose ends of the plot. At the climax, after the Count's telegram had been delivered to the Countessa, Crawford's character makes her goodbyes to all the socialites. She bids farewell to Young, and then Reginald Owen, and then says to Billie Burke, her nemesis in the film, "Goodbye, Countessa. You're very smart, but please remember that I'm smart too." The Countessa remains unmoved by her remarks, and sits in silence. Crawford then moves on to Lynne Carver, and warmly tells her that she hopes that she'll be happy in the future. Crawford tells Carver that she admires and respects her, and Carver accepts her apology. Upon hearing this, Billie Burke, the Contessa's facial expression quickly softens and she smiles at Crawford, as if she has now forgiven her her transgressions, since Crawford had given Carver her due. It was such a nice touch, as if to imply that the Countess held no ill will towards Crawford, without a line of dialog being spoken.

There's plenty of delightful little cameo appearances too, like Frank Puglia as a sympathetic head waiter with a secret, lovely Ann Rutherford as a jilted peasant girl and Charles Judels as the shifty proprietor of the disreputable cabaret. It's all filmed in the glossy Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer style, with attention paid to every detail of lighting, art direction and cinematography. The ending may perhaps be a little too easily resolved, but "The Bride Wore Red" still wears well today.