Reviews

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

More than once Mae Clarke's character, a kept woman, bemoans the fact that as a married man's girlfriend she has ended up behind the eight ball. She warns a friend from back home (Jean Harlow) who's recently arrived in the big city not to end up in the same position. But that is just what happens when Harlow also falls for a man whose society wife won't give him a divorce.

What to do...should Harlow dump the dude (Walter Byron) or just muddle along and make the best of it? After all, he drives a fancy car, could set her up in a swanky apartment like Clarke's, and she'd have all the clothes she wants, not to mention fine dining at the Ritz every night. Yet Harlow needs something more than the material trappings in life; she needs a relationship where she can maintain her self-respect. Clarke's character has zero self-respect, and eventually takes her own life at the end of the picture.

To balance out the heavier themes in this romantic melodrama about the dangers of urban life, there are a few wisecracks and laughs. Harlow lives with a daffy roommate (played by Marie Prevost, who would costar with Clarke a year later in PAROLE GIRL). Prevost is a work-from-home typist in the days before remote office employment was the norm; she'd also like a man but doesn't set her sets as high as the other two girls. Instincts tells her she'd be happy with Byron's chauffeur (thin young Andy Devine).

All three actresses certainly hold their own in this story which is based on a popular novel and has dialogue written by Robert Riskin. Harlow receives top billing- it's her first top-billed assignment- and the most screen time. But it's Clarke who arguably has the showier role, with Prevost's amusing line deliveries stealing just as many scenes. Supposedly Harlow was anxious to play a good-girl after she'd recently vamped it up in HELL'S ANGELS and THE PUBLIC ENEMY.

Contemporary critics didn't quite buy Harlow as the virtuous femme. Some felt her figure lent itself more to playing vamps. In fact, her attractive shape is photographed to considerable advantage during scenes in which her character models lingerie. But I don't think the sexiness of a woman automatically has to make her bad, even in the world of precode cinema. I do give Harlow credit for trying to extend her dramatic range, though she does have a door-slamming outburst that reminds me of her later exasperated character in BOMBSHELL.

For the most part this is a well-conceived motion picture. The idea is that the main characters (Harlow & Byron) can be in a difficult situation but still want to do the right thing and actually end up doing the right thing. Meanwhile, the tragedy of Clarke's character and her sad demise tells us that some of it comes at a terrible price.

This is a 1957 entry that teams actress Barbara Stanwyck with writer-director Sam Fuller and leading man Barry Sullivan with whom Stanwyck had previously worked in two other films. A lot of thoughts crossed my mind as I watched FORTY GUNS. First, I want to point out that Leonard Maltin seems to think the story is a bit too over-the-top. Actually, it's one of the things I like about the movie, that it is camp and it is over-the-top, as this makes the story much more entertaining than it probably has a right to be. Still it's a competently made product. It starts with an exciting on-location sequence featuring Stanwyck and her men on horseback.

A few things prevent FORTY GUNS from achieving its full potential. I think the biggest fault with the movie is that it's too ambitious a story for a modestly budgeted production. This is where 20th Century Fox should have stepped in to increase the cash flow. You can tell it does not have an adequate budget when an actor accidentally stumbles going up some steps, as Gene Barry does in one scene; and when Dean Jagger fumbles a line but quickly recovers the rest of his character's speech in a dramatic confrontation with Stanwyck; and these flubs remain in the movie. Obviously, Fuller couldn't afford to do many retakes, if any at all. And he didn't have the time or money to fix these goofs in post-production by editing them out with cutaways to other shots.

The lack of retakes also causes Fuller to rely too much on long tracking shots. After that exciting sequence at the beginning, we quickly grow weary of Fuller's repeated use of tracking shots. Also, we get too many long scenes where the characters move around and recite all their dialogue without any cutting to their faces for close-up reactions. As a result of the sloppiness of some of the staging, we have a somewhat uneven film. However, the maverick direction lends itself to Fuller's "vision," and does work to the story's advantage. But it still seems amateurish in spots when it shouldn't. And I think that if more money had been allocated for retakes and a chance to record more reaction shots, we would have had a more compelling narrative.

Don't get me wrong it is still compelling. But I think its dynamism comes from the performances and from Fuller's script, which is certainly high concept. However, Fuller's dialogue is downright silly in places which gives it those campy vibes, especially when we have Sullivan ask Stanwyck if she wants to spank one of her men. Like that would really be said by an investigator to a powerful woman he just barely met.

Aside from Stanwyck and Sullivan, the performance that really stood out for me was Dean Jagger's work as the corrupt sheriff. Jagger imbues him with slimy but still "heroic" traits. The sheriff knows that Stanwyck's character has been corrupt and could be brought down by a former ranch hand, so he takes matters into his own hands and kills the dude in a prison holding area, so she doesn't have to worry.

Of course, she insists she didn't want the guy murdered. But the sheriff seems to believe it was necessary, and he certainly enjoys doing the dirty work. Particularly if it endears him to her for a favor or two. Jagger's sheriff has sort of his own code when it comes to protecting people, and to his way of thinking, this is what a man does for the woman he loves.

Jagger has an interesting death scene a bit later, when all his efforts to hold on to the woman he loves have failed. He hangs himself in her home. This is an unexpected development, but in retrospect it's certainly something we should expect from Fuller the flamboyant storyteller. It's a totally over-the-top death.

Also worth mentioning is John Ericson's performance, playing kid brother to Stanwyck. In fact, he's probably young enough to be her son. She has always bailed out her little bro, but he goes too far at the end and pays for his transgressions with his life.

Supposedly Fuller wanted Stanwyck's character to die in the climactic scene where Sullivan shoots her so that she will fall and he can get a clean shot at Ericson. But the studio insisted Fuller make her character live so she could have a happy ending. I think the movie probably would have been more powerful if she had died. Sullivan's real love is the law, and his career certainly would have come ahead of sparing her and making her his wife. It's sort of like expecting Marshall Dillon on Gunsmoke to put the sister of one of targets ahead of everything else, including the law, which of course he would never do.

As for the title, the forty men or forty guns that Stanwyck keeps employed, is mostly just a gimmick. Not many of them are fleshed out and we don't know them as individual characters.

Fuller's thesis is that life and death exist side by side. In the blink of an eye, roles can reverse so that the living are now suddenly dead, and the seemingly dead might spring back to life. In many ways, this would be a great companion piece to Peckinpah's RIDE THE HIGH COUNTRY. Especially since both films have violent wedding scenes in them. I would suspect Peckinpah was influenced by Fuller even if that has never been corroborated anywhere. I would additionally suspect that many makers of spaghetti westerns ten to fifteen years afterward, were inspired by what Fuller accomplishes here. Again it's a picture I enjoyed very much. Though I don't think it's exactly the masterpiece it could have been or should have been.

Celia Johnson's character realizes at one point that Great Britain is headed for a showdown with Nazi Germany. She asks her captain husband (Noel Coward) if he thinks there's going to be a war. The answer seems rather self-evident. But I suppose we need to see how naive some people were at the start of it all, just how unfathomable a second world war was to them. A subsequent scene in which we hear Churchill telling them over the radio that indeed there is another war provides us with some chilling realism.

Though Johnson and the other wives don't exactly dominate the film, since their scenes are far and few between and mostly seen in flashback, they do manage to make an impact. For it is because of their safety and the future that may be had with these women that the men have gone off to battle and intend to defeat the Germans. Much of it is fairly standard propaganda; except for the sinking of the ship in the beginning and a home being blasted by a bomb during a blitz scene, none of it seems as dark or frightening as it might have been.

We know that Coward's screenplay is only working towards one end, and that is the depiction of brave British men and women. The one who is shown to be a coward (Richard Attenborough) quickly comes to his senses and regains his valiant Britishness. None of the men are shown to be morally compromised; they're all almost perfect, led by a nearly perfect officer (Coward). So there is no real dimension to them as human beings, and several of the actors give very wooden performances.

The best one in the cast, or at least the one who gives the most well-rounded performance, is John Mills. We see his earnest devotional qualities, but we also see some of his silly immaturity. When his character is married and he goes off on a honeymoon, he allows us to glimpse the newness of the situation through his eyes. His character grows as a result, because Mills as an actor is committed to having his character evolve, even if the script doesn't always lend itself in that direction.

In addition to Mills' performance, the film benefits from some fine action sequences directed by David Lean. However, I did feel as if the picture had two distinct personalities...the tense, moving action scenes on one hand; and talky stage bound scenes on the other hand. It felt as if Lean was giving us a story for the screen, while Coward was giving us a story for the theater. If the viewer can reconcile these key differences, then it is not a terrible experience watching the whole thing unfold.

But at nearly two hours with so many flashbacks that do not seem to advance the story forward, but instead take the characters backward, it can be a bit frustrating to watch. While I appreciated the sincerity of the piece, I found that many parts of it tested my patience. A good half hour could have been trimmed.

Another thing I want to mention is that I didn't feel Coward knew the full backgrounds of these characters; they didn't seem conceived as complete personages; just fragments of lives during a specific period in war. I think Coward did a much better job with CAVALCADE a decade earlier, which was anti-war.

This is a glorified B film from the folks at 20th Century Fox. It contains elements of romance and comedy, but is more known for its ensemble cast of Fox starlets, several of them going on to long and distinguished Hollywood careers. Among the women who check into the titular dwelling are Ann Sothern. Jean Rogers, Lynn Bari and Linda Darnell in her motion picture debut.

Darnell has the most screen time though she is billed after Sothern. Behind-the-scenes drama played out when Sothern, who'd just finished a contract at RKO, decided not to sign a long-term deal with Fox. She instead chose to sign with MGM, where a few scripts meant for the late Jean Harlow would be given to her. As a result of bailing on Fox, Sothern still retained top billing but her part was drastically cut in the editing room.

In lieu of Sothern's decreased prominence, Darnell's part was beefed up. Sothern & Darnell would reunite on screen ten years later as two of the wronged wives in A LETTER TO THREE WIVES, also for Fox. Apparently Sothern was able to mend fences with studio execs, and she had remained friendly with Darnell. The later film is more well-known, while HOTEL FOR WOMEN has slipped into obscurity.

Darnell was only 15 years old when she stepped before the cameras to shoot her first scenes in HOTEL FOR WOMEN. Publicists lied about her age and initially made her seem older than she actually was. After all, she was supposed to be playing a woman, not a teen girl in this film. The basic scenario was embellished by society maven Elsa Maxwell who was hired to add 'realistic' touches about young gals staying at a posh New York hotel.

Maxwell was a closeted lesbian who had a long-time female partner but never acknowledged their relationship in public. Despite being from a poor midwestern background, she had become a cosmopolitan sensation. She wielded great influence because of her powerful connections, often hobnobbing with prominent politicians and royalty. She was known for throwing lavish parties and writing a gossip column. In the 1940s she had her own radio show.

In order to give this picture increased value with contemporary audiences, Fox developed a supporting role for the doyenne and renamed it ELSA MAXWELL'S HOTEL FOR WOMEN. This was also a ploy to prevent a New York-based actress and part-time playwright known as Louise Howard from winning a suit against the studio for plagiarism. Miss Howard, who'd worked in burlesque as Halo Meadows, had authored a play called Women's Hotel which the court ruled had been pilfered for this production. What ended up on screen wasn't half as interesting as what went on behind the scenes.

I suppose with a title like this, we know going into the story, there won't be any future for the main characters. They will all wind up in prison, the ones that aren't already dead. They'll be forced to kiss everything goodbye.

James Cagney, hot on the heels of his success in WHITE HEAT, plays another sadistic thug. Since Cody Jarrett died in a blaze of glory at the end of HEAT, they couldn't very well make a sequel, so this was the next best thing...create a new character very much in the Jarrett mold, but make him even more corrupt, more vicious and load the scenes with plenty of violent action.

At this point, Cagney and his brother were making their own productions filmed in rented studios. Given his recent box office success, old home studio Warner Brothers agreed to distribute the picture. It has the WB logo at the beginning, though is not technically part of the Warners archive of classic films. Due to its status as an indy film KISS TOMORROW GOODBYE fell out of the public eye for many years until the folks at UCLA finally restored it in the early 2010s which led to a home video release.

Perhaps those waiting for a chance to see the film were disappointed. It is never going to measure up to WHITE HEAT, which at its core, is about the tragic relationship between a mother and son (Cagney and Margaret Wycherly). Here, the criminal is more of a loner, though he tries to find love with women who cross his path. One is the attractive sister (Barbara Payton) of a guy who helped him escape prison but died in the process. Payton resembles Cagney's previous costar Virginia Mayo.

Part of the story involves Payton remaining clueless about Cagney's killing of her brother, while she gets more romantically involved with him. As the story unspools, we learn she is just as twisted as he is. There is a shocking scene in which she is towel whipped by Cagney then falls into his arms all hot and bothered. Not your typical love story! Of course Payton will never be enough for Cagney.

He is too busy pulling scams and going up against two crooked cops (Ward Bond & Barton MacLane). Then he meets a society chick (Helena Carter). He decides to ditch Payton for Carter, and that doesn't go over well with Payton at all. This, combined with her learning the truth about how her brother died, sends Payton into a murderous rage. She becomes a second mad dog killer, eliminating Cagney.

Audiences didn't respond too favorably to the gruesome acts of violence depicted on screen. It all seemed a bit excessive, as if the Cagney brothers lost good sense and went over the top in this follow-up of WHITE HEAT. It's competently acted and directed; there are some very nicely staged scenes, especially during the courtroom sequences in which Payton and the rest of the gang are on trial. As the court proceedings occur we flashback over their various crimes and the death of Cagney's character. But it all leaves a viewer feeling a bit cold. Yes, justice will be doled out in the end, but it doesn't quite seem enough.

The best farces, on stage and on film, are the ones where most of the characters exist in a state of hilarious confusion. Typically the audience is in on the jokes with the main character who is a trickster of some sort. In this 1931 comedy from Metro Goldwyn Mayer based on George Randolph Chester's Wallingford stories, studio contractee William Haines plays the trickster. Haines is continuing his successful transition from the silent era as a man who travels the country, pulling cons before moving on to the next location where the next bunch of unsuspecting suckers await him.

Aiding and abetting his crimes is a pal portrayed by Jimmy Durante, named Schnozzle- appropriate given the nature of Durante's proboscis. Durante sniffs out trouble, as in cops or marks that have gotten wise to them, and he helps Haines finish executing a scam before hopping the train and hightailing it elsewhere. Usually the authorities and victims are so mixed up about what's happened, the duo make a clean and easy getaway.

Adding to the confusion are crimes that Durante commits as a long-time kleptomaniac. For you see, he has a penchant for stealing automobiles, thinking that if anything with four wheels and a set of keys in the ignition is parked nearby, it must be there for him to use. Of course, these types of gags work better in an era before car alarms.

In one hysterical scene Durante takes off with a car he finds at a train station and quickly crashes it; the reaction of the vehicle's owners watching this is perhaps the funniest bit in the movie. If this film were remade today, writers would probably suggest Durante's character has dementia, because there is no other way to explain the innocence of such grand theft auto.

Usually during this period of his career, Durante was paired with Buster Keaton in high energy comedies. So it's kind of interesting to see his shtick alongside Haines who has a completely different style than Keaton.

Haines does not get upstaged by Durante, despite the zanier moments involving Durante's character. Instead, Haines' own schemes are much smoother and more complex; and while he's bilking prey, he is falling for a pretty young thing (Leila Hyams). Of course we know that if Haines is going to somewhat reform, he will change because of her.

There are no real surprises, except that when Haines does decide to go straight because of Hyams, he seems willing to take the consequences and has surrendered himself over to the police, along with Durante. But we can never be sure if this will lead to another ruse, as it is awfully hard for such a guy to refrain from pulling more tricks.

Ultimately, Haines and Durante do manage to evade the law because of another mixup that happens on their way to prison. It's a precode, so they don't have to actually pay for their misdeeds (and if Durante does have a form of dementia, he'd hardly be held responsible for what he's done). The filmmakers' main point in redeeming Haines is to have him settle down with Hyams.

Legal issues have prevented this film from being made available on any home video format. It has only aired once on TCM, back in the 1990s when the channel first began broadcasting. It won't be long before WALLINGFORD is in the public domain, then plenty of people will be able to view this enjoyable farce.

Raffaello Matarazzo was a successful Italian filmmaker who had specialized in comedies during the 1930s and historical dramas during the 1940s. But with his hit film CATENE (CHAINS) in 1949, he began making a series of popular melodramas, the most successful ones pairing Amedeo Nazzari and Yvonne Sanson.

Matarazzo's technique could be compared to Rossellini or DeSica, since he favored a more naturalistic approach in the postwar period. But unlike those neorealist auteurs, Matarazzo wasn't as focused on political or economic points; instead, he was more interested in depicting overheated passion and religious symbolism. He liked to elevate drama that would pull tears from viewers, even when his plots became convoluted.

The convoluted aspects, which are still be quite satisfying for the audience, play on coincidences and overwrought emotions. Typically, the conflicts involve class divisions. In I FIGLI DI NESSUNO (NOBODY'S CHILDREN), Amedeo Nazzari plays the owner of a quarry. His family, the Canalis, are headed by a ruthless matriarch (French actress Francoise Rosay, expanding her repertoire of international roles). Mama spends hours in bed barking orders.

One of mama's henchmen (Folco Lulli) visits to go over accounts. While he's there he tells mama that her son is having an affair with a quarry worker's daughter (Sanson). This is like a dagger in the heart. Since mama does not intend for her son to marry down, she does everything in her power to thwart the relationship. Never mind the fact that the couple is deeply and completely in love.

Mama works night and day to break them up. And she succeeds, except for one loose end. Sanson has become pregnant and gives birth to a child that is a short time later is thought to have died in a fire. After the "death" of the child, Sanson decides to become a nun much to Nazzari's displeasure.

Meanwhile the baby, which is still alive, and is now nobody's child, has been raised in an orphanage. The story advances, and we see Nazzari has married a more socially acceptable woman (Enrica Dyrell) and has a young daughter in this marriage. But he still thinks about Sanson, and mama still knows there is a grandson out there somewhere who's been denied part of the family heritage.

This leads into the second half of the story where that long-lost child, Bruno (Enric Olivieri) leaves the orphanage and comes to the quarry looking for clues about his parentage. Ironically, Olivieri bonds with Nazzari, neither one knowing they are son and father. Olivieri also has a scene in which he meets Sanson the nun, not knowing she's his mother. The film is full or great irony.

But instead of providing a happy resolution- since Sanson cannot turn back on her vows and leave the convent, and since Nazzari already has a wife and another child- tragedy escalates. Young Bruno (Olivieri) gets caught in the middle of dynamite being detonated at the quarry. Yes, Matarazzo is going there...and the boy so close to learning about his real family is fatally injured in a blast.

This sets us up for the huge scene at the end where Sanson and Nazzari have learned the boy now dying in the hospital, is their long lost son. You cannot help but cry watching this stuff. The performances are so pure and so affecting, despite the more operatic aspects of the plot, that you feel moved by these characters and weep for their terrible losses. On some level, it's kind of therapeutic in a very emotional way. And when NOBODY'S CHILDREN seems to have come full-circle, it really hasn't. Four years later, Matarazzo produced a sequel even more melodramatic and terrific.

After the release of 20th Century Fox's TITANIC in 1953, renewed interest in the sinking of the well-known passenger ship gripped the public, along with similar disaster-at-sea tales. The book upon which this British version is based was published in 1955 and supposedly drew on the accounts of real-life survivors. However, I tend to think that some of it is a fictionalized retelling.

Much of what is depicted gives us the British stiff upper lip handling of crisis to the point that we witness very little outward emotion. We are left with a rather sterile presentation of highly dramatic events. The ship is too clean in scenes, even in the areas where the immigrant classes are traveling. The ship is also too steady; there is no sense that this is a vessel afloat on water because the actors are walking on a very level soundstage.

I sincerely doubt all Brits on board the Titanic behaved in such a genteel fashion in such a controlled environment. Not when faced with death, because at that point, the basic human desire to live must take over and cultural veneer goes by the wayside. And speaking of culture, why couldn't they have hired some American performers to play the American characters?

This version takes liberties and messes with the factual chronology. A story of this sort needs to be focused on when things happen, when obstacles present themselves; and specifically, when lives are lost and saved. There is so much shifting between a multiplicity of viewpoints that one can never be sure when important things are happening, only that an iceberg was struck, which even the most astute kindergartener already knows. It's like saying something happened before or after the coming of Christ without affixing any particular significance to the exact moment of Christmas.

The story that appears on screen is utterly devoid of any real human meaning. The filmmakers keep cutting to a model of the ship on the water, but this miniature has no silhouettes of people in the windows or on the decks, which substantiates just how ludicrous this production is at times.

The book was lauded for its pointillism, and occasionally, the filmmakers do try to emulate that with different points of interest on the Titanic as well as points of interest on the Carpathia. But because the points are often so fleeting, we never get much depth or development of the characters and their individual scenarios. The only defined character is the second officer played by Kenneth More.

But even then, we never see any struggle with darkness in him; and in this type of situation, I think an officer would be in a constant state of temptation, dealing with his own worst possible impulses for self-preservation. For if he was ultimately heroic in putting others first, we'd certainly glimpse the struggle and the emotional cost, the human toll it took on him. But this film doesn't stay with him long enough in any of the scenes to give us that depth or hint of struggle and victory. Mostly he is just there to connect random groups of characters in the same space and time. And that's boring.

You know you're watching a precode when someone commits murder and goes unpunished. That's what happens to the aunt (Cecil Cunningham) of an aspiring Broadway actress (Frances Dee). Aunt Hattie has spent 19 years grooming her sweet niece for stardom and she is not going to let some two-bit hood (Lyle Talbot) gum up the works. When Talbot gloms on to the fact that Dee has been passing bad checks behind the aunt's back, he pays the outstanding debts but expects sexual favors in return.

At the same time there's a suave newspaper reporter (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) who along with his wisecracking pal (Lee Tracy) lives paycheck to paycheck. Some of their stories involve information they get from various gangland figures. Fairbanks is mad about Dee. But he can only give her the good life one night a week, on the day he's paid. So for the other six days, her auntie is pushing her towards a wealthy theater producer (Andre Luguet). But when Talbot interferes with everyone's plans, he has to be eliminated. Or so the aunt thinks.

This is when she visits Talbot's penthouse apartment one rainy night and shoots him. Fairbanks arrives on the scene just as she is hiding the gun in a potted plant and leaves. Why she didn't take the gun with her is beyond me. Then Fairbanks goes into the apartment and rearranges the crime scene to make it seem like Talbot got drunk and fell off a ledge. But wouldn't he still have a bullet hole in him?

At the end of the film Fairbanks sends other incriminating evidence he found at the scene to the aunt, to keep her in the clear. He does this even though Dee has dumped him and married Luguet. I guess we're supposed to root for Fairbanks helping the women out of a jam, but of course, he's perverting the course of justice and goes unpunished as well.

The film ends on a somewhat humorous note of Fairbanks realizing that the love women offer is a racket, though a faithful female friend (Ann Dvorak) is waiting in the wings to carry on with him. Never mind the fact that the men in this movie are the real racketeers and play just as many games with the womenfolk.

Roger Corman, very early in his film career, wrote the story upon which the screenplay for this Allied Artists crime flick is based. It's more a road trip movie where assorted strangers connect and encounter plenty of danger. Due to the relatively low budget, there are no elaborately constructed sets; much of it is filmed on location along the titular highway and at various roadside cafes and motor lodges. That gives the story a bit of unexpected authenticity.

Richard Conte fresh on the heels of his work in noirs at 20th Century Fox and Universal is cast as a returning Korean War vet. Settling back into his old life is fraught with problems especially when he runs into a model (Mary Beth Hughes) who is a former flame.

They rekindle their affections then have an argument. After he leaves, he is picked up later by the cops who tell him Hughes is dead and they think he did it. The rest of the movie is Conte running from the law, trying to secure an alibi to prove his innocence. In addition to the crime drama action, there is still the mystery of who the real culprit might be. This is certainly an interesting way to structure a movie plot, and since Conte is a rather likable screen presence we will easily go along for the ride, pun intended.

While on the lam Conte meets up with two women. One of them is a well-to-do photographer (Joan Bennett) and a model she has with her on an assignment, played by Wanda Hendrix. Their vehicle is stalled along a stretch of highway, so Conte helps them then hops in. He goes with them to a valley inn where they will be taking pictures. But while they are there, the gals learn Conte's a wanted man. What to do?

There is a backstory involving Bennett's character, whose husband had been having an affair with the deceased model (Hughes). This is all a bit far-fetched, but it does set up the story's final sequence. After Conte is cornered he takes Bennett and Hendrix hostage and makes another getaway with them. But along the way, he and Hendrix have fallen in love, naturally!

Meanwhile Bennett's actual role in Hughes' murder is exposed. A climactic standoff is staged at a partially flooded home near the Salton Sea. It is all very memorable and nicely captured on celluloid. Bennett, playing against type as a villainess, was slumming it at Allied Artists (formerly Monogram) after she was involved with a real-life shooting that sent her husband, producer Walter Wanger to prison for a short time. Her movie career was on the skids, and she would only make two more films in the 1950s plus one in 1960, before turning to television.

Anne Baxter was just coming off an Oscar win for her portrayal of a drug addicted woman in 20th Century Fox's adaptation of THE RAZOR'S EDGE when she was loaned to Paramount for the lead role in this aviation drama. Interestingly, she heads a cast that includes Paramount's top matinee idols of the postwar period- William Holden who plays the man she marries; and Sterling Hayden who is on hand as Holden's brother and the man she probably should have married.

The idea of putting Hayden and Holden into the same film, directed by John Farrow, is inspired since they actually do look like brothers and have similar mannerisms. In addition to these two, Sonny Tufts whose career at Paramount was in full swing plays an older brother, while Johnny Sands portrays the youngest kid brother. All four of the McDonald bros are pilots, some of them having flown during WWI. Now it is the mid-1920s and since they have bills to pay and since they can't seem to get flying out of their blood, they perform aerial stunts at carnivals. What they do is thrilling and dangerous.

But when Holden meets pretty nurse Baxter, he realizes he needs to settle down and have a more stable job. So he and his brothers leave the stunt shows and start careers delivering airmail. The historical aspect of the airmail business in Ernest Gann's popular novel, adapted by real-life flyer turned screenwriter Frank Wead, gives the story great credibility.

Because this is an 'A' budget picture, the studio ups the drama by putting all four brothers into daring situations. The younger McDonald (Sands) is killed early on; and Tufts' character takes the blame and soon quits flying to become a car salesman of all things.

A friend who is also a pilot, and is played by William Bendix in the film's comic relief role, gets busted for zooming too close to a train on the ground. So, with his license being reviewed and having been put on suspension, he also quits and joins Tufts selling cars.

This leaves Holden and Hayden doing the mail runs, but Baxter is now pregnant and she'd like Holden to stop taking flights in bad weather. Meanwhile, Hayden has fallen hard for Baxter...but he can't have his sister-in-law as more than a friend, so he cracks up in the air and becomes disabled. Sterling Hayden gives a thoughtful performance here. We feel his anguish over his unrequited love; and when he ends up crippled which leads to the end of his career, we sense how much this setback means.

The drama isn't done, because there is one more huge tragedy yet to happen. And this time it involves Holden's character. He takes off in the fog on a special flight that will make extra money he needs to support his wife and newborn child. But the aircraft disappears in the fog, and he's never heard from again.

There's a wonderful scene with Holden at the controls, facing imminent death, talking on the radio to Baxter who's on the ground realizing they'll never see each other again. Anne Baxter is truly magnificent in what amounts to a highly touching role. Most actresses would have gone full throttle with the histrionics near the end, but she wisely underplays it, and I do think this performance is just as good, perhaps even better, than the one for which she earned the Oscar. Her Lucille McDonald is just so believable; very much a 'real person' on screen.

One thing that made me give the film a high score was that when I reflected back on the whole narrative, I could see that the writers were foreshadowing Baxter and Hayden to get together, even though their relationship was impossible. After Holden dies, Hayden as the baby's uncle is present at the christening; and since it would be distasteful to show that Baxter is ready to move on, as it would be too soon after her husband's death, I think we can assume that she will eventually marry Hayden. So we have this suggested happy ending, but not yet quite happy ending, which felt very mature and honest to me.

I also liked how all four brothers who loved flying so much are no longer fliers at the end. Their lives go in such unexpected directions. As a result, this is not a predictable or very formulaic studio picture; and with Baxter's sincere performance at the center of it, it is a real keeper.

At the beginning of this Alfred Hitchcock film Marlene Dietrich's character, a glamorous stage actress, tells Richard Todd to close the curtain as she enters a room with him. Later, a heavy stage curtain falls on him and kills him, after he's revealed to be a killer fleeing a detective (Michael Wilding) and the police. But we spend much of the film not knowing he's the culprit, because Hitchcock pulls a fast one which some contemporary critics did not like.

Hitchcock starts the film by having Todd's character on the run after the killing of Dietrich's husband. But he proclaims his innocence to a girl friend (Jane Wyman). The first section of the film is his narration and flashback, which like Wyman's character we take at face value as the truth. Only it's not the truth. When he does turn out to be guilty later, we've been misled. I suppose this makes sense because most killers wouldn't tell the truth, and it would help to dupe an impressionable friend to help facilitate a plan to hide from the authorities.

However, Hitchcock and his cinematographer (Wilkie Cooper) might have done something different with the camera or the lighting during the false flashback to imply the feeling something's off. Another thing regarding the flashback, these events are told to Wyman; but in the flashback there is a passage of time, and Todd recounts some events to Dietrich within the flashback. It's as if Hitchcock and his writers got a little too clever for their own good and then couldn't quite keep it all linear.

The original story upon which the screenplay is based has another lesser character as the murderer. My guess is Todd's character was made the bad guy, so that it would be easier for Wyman to wind up with Wilding at the end. I do think Todd is excellent at playing emotionally troubled men; and I like how Dietrich supposedly goaded him into the killing, which makes her an accomplice and not in the clear.

Some parts of the story are strangely humorous. Dietrich overplays her role and is so busy vamping for the viewers that she almost verges on self-parody. Supposedly Hitchcock wanted Tallulah Bankhead for the role, whom he'd previously directed in LIFEOBAT, but Warners insisted on Dietrich. If Bankhead had been in it, then undoubtedly the camp value would have increased even more.

In addition to Dietrich's posturing, we have some slight overplaying by Alastair Sim as Wyman's father, a not quite reformed rascal. His heart's in the right place where his daughter is concerned, which I think is meant to mirror Hitchcock's own relationship with his daughter Patricia who is cast in a minor role as a friend of Wyman's.

Wyman is truly the best thing in the movie. Unlike Dietrich who is amping up every conceivable human action (including breathing), Wyman wisely underplays her role yet stays alert and focused throughout. Wyman received top billing by the studio after her recent Oscar win for JOHNNY BELINDA, and this is truly deserved. She has a wonderful way of using her eyes to register different emotions. Whenever Hitchcock cuts to her for a reaction shot, we are given a plethora of registered responses pertaining to the action at hand. She judges and balances the whole movie.

One thing I want to add is that this story was a way for Hitchcock to delve into what actors do, how they take on certain roles and perpetuate an inordinate amount of nonsense and falsehood in order to put something across. You almost need a scorecard to keep track of what each person really knows about the other. Ironically, this gives the film some richer meanings, though untangling it all probably requires multiple viewings.

I had never heard of this Columbia programmer until just a few days ago. It's a shame that it hasn't been restored, because I think it provides a unique window into the war effort during the time it was made and how Hollywood propaganda films were used to encourage enlistments as well as entertain, and on some level, start training. In this case the enlistees would have been women watching in the audience.

PARACHUTE NURSE has a story that was written by a female writer, and a real life aviatrix who helped establish the Aerial Nurse Corps of America- Lauretta Schimmoler- as one of the picture's stars.

Schimmoler does not play herself, because while she was a pilot and well-versed in flight, she was not a nurse. Instead, she is cast in a slightly fictional role as a captain who leads a squad of new recruits. Miss Schimmoler is no Greta Garbo in the glamour department and she is no Bette Davis in the acting department, but she brings with her credibility and an air of authenticity.

A bunch of the studio's prettiest starlets portray the recruits, headed by Marguerite Chapman who was very popular at Columbia in the 1940s. The less attractive female members of the cast are on board to provide some comic relief. But all these gals are sincere and show that team work is key. One of the women joining the squad gets drummed out by Schimmoler because she's a troublemaker- actress Louise Allbritton has a field day vamping it up before she's thrown out.

It's true there are some basic stock characters as all war films have them, but I would say in this case, it's more about how they band together for Uncle Sam that keeps us interested in them. Their efforts are jingoistic; we want them to succeed. Of course, some of their success is not just learning to keep their cots tidy or learning to parachute from a plane. Some of it involves their getting along with the men who help train them, and in a few instances, as with Chapman's character, there's romance with a handsome guy (William Wright).

One thing I appreciated about the film, despite its modest budget and standard performances, was how it relied on cliches but still managed to connect with me. It should be noted that I was watching it in 2024; so if it affected me this positively, imagine the impact it had on viewers in 1942 who left the movie theater and went off to get an application and sign up.

I remembered watching this film only once before, more than a decade ago. But I remembered it as one that was meaningful, and rewatching it, I can see why I felt that way. There comes a point two-thirds of the way into the story where Officer Alec Holmes (Tyrone Power) tells the crew and passengers with him that they are now in the last extremity of the voyage they are all making together. When phrased like that, it's bleak.

Things get started with a bang, literally, in the film's first few minutes. A cruise ship has been exploded by colliding into a derelict mine. Many die right off, but the ones who have managed to withstand the initial blast, find themselves floating in the Atlantic with the wreckage. Power's character is among those immediately glimpsed, and he quickly organizes them all aboard a lifeboat.

However, the boat can only hold so many. Some take turns treading in the water, alongside the vessel, while the last remaining shark repellent is used to keep them safe as long as possible. There is talk about limited supplies of water and food; rationing becomes a necessity. They must all follow orders and cooperate to stay afloat until they are retrieved by a rescue ship.

Power, who produced the film, is directed by writer Richard Sale with a predominately British cast. Hollywood name Lloyd Nolan is also present, having costarred with Power back in 1940's JOHNNY APOLLO. Nolan's character only makes it to the one-hour mark; but he imparts plenty of wisdom before dying, and his death scene is very dramatic. He's the first one to be sacrificed for the others.

At this point, knowing that a huge storm is forming overhead, Power must decide which ones are strongest to keep rowing the lifeboat. This means he decides which ones need to be cut loose, thrown overboard, and basically given to the sharks. The sea around them has now become a watery grave. It's harrowing to watch the scenes where Power holds them at gunpoint and decides which ones can be saved and which ones must be jettisoned.

To be fair he insists that he will even jettison himself if the time comes that he is no longer one of the strong ones. That scene happens a bit later, where after receiving a wound, he gives up on himself, ironically, just as the rescue ship finds them. Emotions run high when Power plays executioner, and he's told that he's committing murder. But to him, he's doing the right thing in a utilitarian sense.

Sale's story was based on a real-life incident that had previously been depicted in Paramount's SOULS AT SEA in 1937, that time with Gary Cooper as the officer who had to make difficult life-or-death decisions. But I think this film, with its lack of studio polish, comes across a lot grittier and more realistically. Former glamour boy Power has a very unglamorous role here, and he is more than up to the task.

One thing that impressed me was how Power was willing to let himself look old and weathered in the last sequence. This showed the experience had drastically aged the character. The female costars (Mai Zetterling and Moira Lister) wear plenty of make-up in the early scenes then become more beaten up by the elements, while still looking beautiful. In short, the performers aren't worried about how they look. Movie star narcissism is forced to surrender to the realism of the plot on screen.

Of course there's only so much realism that can be allowed. We are never privy to dialogue about how they will relieve their bowels. And while there is discussion that a floating dog may become supper at some point, that never actually happens.

At one point in the narrative, a survivor shows a lucky poker hand. Apparently he was on a winning streak aboard the cruise ship just before it blew up. He had three aces and two kings; a full house. This mirrors the fact that the lifeboat is overcrowded. It's the luck of the draw, whether or not a person is able to stay alive when there is disaster at sea.

THE GILDED LILY a comedy, but it's also a two-character study. Despite the obstacles in their path, we know the characters played by Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray will end up as a romantic couple. In the beginning we're shown that they are good friends, though both still have a lot to learn about life and about themselves. The story isn't even that funny, to be honest. It's amusing, but nothing uproarious. Mostly we are drawn in because Miss Colbert has an easy rapport with Mr. MacMurray. They both have considerable respect for each other in their scenes, and that's gold. It's no wonder they'd make a total of seven motion pictures together.

The premise is simple. Colbert & MacMurray meet up each Thursday night on a New York City park bench to "watch the world go by." They discuss what's going on with their jobs-- he's a reporter, and she's a stenographer. Usually, this involves giving advice to each other, while munching on their favorite snack-- popped corn.

We are not told how they met or how long they've known each other. But we can be sure they're kindred souls. MacMurray is eager to move beyond the platonic nature of the relationship, but Colbert doesn't feel the same way about him, at least not now. She has fanciful notions of what it would be like to be swept off her feet. She soon meets a British aristocrat (Ray Milland) and falls for him, which causes angst for MacMurray though he still remains loyal as a pal.

The two lead stars are naturals with each other, and most of what transpires on screen works. There's a funny bit where they go for a drink at Luis Alberni's nightclub, and Colbert's character has had a little too much to drink. She slides off her seat, and crashes with a thud under the table.

There's also the part where it seems like she's been jilted by Milland. The idea of a working class gal catching the eye of British nobility then getting left behind is too much for MacMurray to resist, and he builds a series of articles around it. You might say he's exploiting their friendship, but he also has ulterior motives, which involves winning her for himself.

In the meantime, she gains notoriety, which he thinks they can play to their financial advantage. A short while later he gets her to perform in front of paying customers at the club. She awkwardly sings and dances, without much discernible talent, and lands in the lap of a V. I. P.

As I watched the film, it occurred to me how brave Miss Colbert is. She's not afraid to take risks with the material, continually testing her comfort level. Of course, she's dressed in the finest outfits, photographed from the best angles and given plenty of glamorous touches.

Something else I noticed-- Colbert is basically playing a good girl. But MacMurray's character manipulates her situation...so she is depicted in the press as a bad girl who says 'no' to everyone and puts on airs. He's constructing an image that will render her unattainable to any other man...since he wants her for himself.

Their mutual enjoyment of popcorn is cute. At various points in the story, we see them buy bags of the stuff. There is also a scene inside Colbert's apartment where they make a fresh batch, popping kernels by the fireplace. She pours it into a large bowl. He adds the butter and salt, and she stirs it with a wooden spoon. It is their ritual. And it makes them seem like real people, who do ordinary things, while trying to figure out what's important in life.

At this point in his Hollywood career, director Douglas Sirk had moved from artistic-minded independent productions to routine genre assignments at Universal. Sirk would remain with the studio through the end of the decade, scoring some of his biggest hits. Universal provided Sirk with better budgets as well as the chance to collaborate with more "A" list stars.

TAKE ME TO TOWN is a western comedy that Sirk made as part of a trilogy for Universal. The other two films were MEET ME AT THE FAIR, starring Dan Dailey; and HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY GAL?, with Rock Hudson. These pictures were filmed in vivid Technicolor, and they were nostalgic diversions about America at the turn of the century. TAKE ME TOWN differs from the previous two, since it does not have an urban setting. It's interesting to see a German-born filmmaker do so well with movies about American life.

TAKE ME TOWN stars Ann Sheridan and Sterling Hayden. There are some lovable kids and an assortment of character actors in supporting roles who are all quite memorable. Sheridan performs a lively musical number in the beginning that is aided considerably by cinematographer Russell Metty's use of Technicolor. In fact the whole picture bursts with energy, even in some of the more pedestrian scenes where not much seems to be occurring.

The storyline works on two levels. First, there's an adult angle with Sheridan as a "naughty" saloon gal. She's running from the law in much the same way Betty Grable was on the lam in THE BEAUTIFUL BLONDE FROM BASHFUL BEND. Only Sheridan's character was in the wrong place at the wrong time when her previous place of employment had been raided. She escapes from a marshal and legs it to a sleepy logging town. When she gets to Timberline she makes friends with the owner of an "opera house" (code for brothel) and gains employment. She does a nightly floor show to warm up the customers. No opera music is ever heard.

While performing "opera," she changes her name to Vermillion O'Toole (so named because of her bright red hair). Despite these seedier elements, the storyline works on a wholesome level, too. A family angle occurs when Vermillion develops a soft spot for the three young sons of a widowed preacher (Hayden).

The boys leave home one day when pa goes off logging. They've heard that a snooty society woman intends to become their new ma, and this simply won't do. So they head into town to find someone more suitable to join the family. You guessed it. They quickly spot Vermillion when they sneak into the "opera house." They try to convince her that she should become their new ma, since she's just so darn pretty and pa would certainly like her!

At first Vermillion is unwilling to leave with the boys, despite bonding instantly with them. But when the marshal (Larry Gates) arrives, hot on her trail, she decides maybe going off to the country and playing mother might not be such a bad alternative. Of course when preacher Will Hall learns there's a strange woman at his house with the boys, he says she will have to leave first thing in the morning. This isn't proper.

In the meantime, Will enjoys her cooking and realizes that his kids have really taken a shine to Vermillion. And the following day, when Vermillion saves the youngest one from being mauled by a bear, Will takes a shine to Vermillion, too. She's obviously not going anywhere. Her days of singing "opera" are over, and she is going to become a proper ma to Corney, Petey and Bucket.

The story will have a happy ending. Vermillion will become domesticated, and at some point, the audience knows she will be cleared of any wrongdoing. But what makes the story work so well is the chemistry Sheridan has with Hayden, and the rapport they develop with the boys. Also, there are a few engaging subplots.

In one situation the marshal undergoes a transformation, deciding that life is not necessarily black and white, and there are gray areas. Plus we have the townsfolk, particularly a ladies aid group led by the snooty society woman, who dial down their prejudices and allow Vermillion a chance to prove herself. She does this during a special outdoor festival, where they stage a show with melodrama and musical interludes, to raise funds for the construction of a new church.

Ann Sheridan seems to excel at playing maternal roles, something she didn't have a chance to do during her years at Warner Brothers. In some ways, this film reminds me of Republic's drama COME NEXT SPRING, where she again played a rural mother who put her kids first.

Sterling Hayden also seems to do well at this material. It's nice to see him in lighter scenes and prove he could ably take on a paternal role. He seems very relaxed and smiles a lot on camera, which goes against the persona he developed for himself in his other films. They all seem to be having a good time making this movie. Perhaps that can be attributed to Sirk's smooth direction and Sirk's ability to put actors at ease and elicit more natural performances.

It should also be pointed out that TAKE ME TO TOWN was the first motion picture Ross Hunter produced on his own. He'd been associate producing, directing dialogue and acting prior to this. It was Ann Sheridan who encouraged him to take on increased responsibility behind the scenes. They'd previously done two other films together. Of course, Sirk and Hunter would go on to make less nostalgic films at Universal. But this was the beginning of something great.

This is one of those delightful B films with a sports theme that doesn't exactly wow the viewer but certainly entertains. The picture's two stars, Carole Landis and Lloyd Nolan, share an easy rapport and they'd go on to make MANILA CALLING later in the year. The country was already at war, but it was nice to know that a pleasurable American pastime like baseball might still be enjoyed.

Landis plays a society chick, born in Brooklyn, but now living in posh Manhattan, who doesn't like to remember where she's from originally. But when a wealthy auntie (Sara Allgood) dies, Landis and a bunch of other relatives are left with controlling interest in a Brooklyn baseball team (which is not referred to as the Dodgers, but it is implied).

One amusing plot point is that Landis and the other snooty family members have no real understanding of baseball like Allgood did. To them, it's just an asset they'd rather sell to pocket some more cash. Nolan, an ex-player who was recruited to manage the team by Allgood before she passed on, can see that he's got his work cut out for him with this clan.

Nolan's job will not be confined to just getting the team in shape to win the pennant (something the real-life Dodgers did the year before), but in getting Landis to see the value in holding on to the team. During their interactions, they learn more about each other as well as the different parts of society they inhabit. We know Landis will become a real fan of baseball, and that she will end up with Nolan, but half the fun is in seeing them navigate the divide that exists between them during the early portions of the story.

Director Ray McCarey really seems to get a lot of spirited performances from the cast, more than is probably owed such a simple yet modestly budgeted item. The men cast as the ballplayers are not as in shape as we might expect them to be, but it's evident they play the game well.

There are some likable character actors who bolster the scenes...besides Allgood whose role is all too brief at the beginning, we have William Frawley as an old crony of hers plus Mary Gordon as the mother of a rookie player; and Jane Darwell as Nolan's ma. We also have young Scotty Beckett as a wise beyond his years batboy who steals almost every scene in which he appears. Sadly, Beckett would die of a drug overdose in 1968.

This is not the most spectacular baseball flick ever made, but it's fun to watch. Carole Landis seems very relaxed and at ease on screen. She didn't have the most peaceful life, and died in 1948 from a drug overdose. Ray Carey also died in 1948 from a drug overdose. Though unhappy times were ahead for some, IT HAPPENED IN FLATBUSH is a cheerful motion picture in which they all hit a home run.

Leading lady Irene Purcell who brought her role from the hit Broadway play to this MGM screen version was signed by the studio based on the strength of her stage performances. She would only make two more pictures at Metro, then freelance briefly at other studios the following year. So, with only a two year tenure in Hollywood resulting in just six motion pictures, she has the leanest of filmographies for a studio star. But she made an indelible mark regardless, before returning to Broadway.

For all intents and purposes this is not a vehicle for newcomer Purcell, though; it's a project for Metro's leading man William Haines, the only member of the cast to have his name above the title in large lettering. Haines' flamboyant personality suits this story of an irresponsible youth with a devil-may-care attitude, shunning convention at every turn. When his uncle (C. Aubrey Smith) decides something must be done about the nephew's reckless behavior, our main plot kicks into gear.

The two men wage a bet that if Haines is not able to prove that the gal (Purcell) Smith has chosen to be Haines' wife isn't immoral like many women seem to be, then Haines will give up his gigolo antics and settle down to marriage. Smith has help from the girl's aunt (Charlotte Granville, recreating her stage role) who would also like to push Haines & Purcell together.

At first, there is a lot of silliness with Haines leading Purcell on, and Purcell rejecting him, which is new territory for Haines with women. Then things turn predictably serious when Haines realizes he's falling in love with Purcell and almost wouldn't mind losing the bet to uncle and ending up married to Purcell after all. But when it seems there will be a happily ever after, Purcell learns the truth about Haines who has been impersonating a dance teacher (code for gigolo) and that he's really a titled British lord.

The last sequence has Purcell deciding to turn the proverbial tables and teach Haines a lesson, by letting him think she's a loose woman, so that his ideal of the perfect woman is shattered. Of course, he finds out it's all just a gag, and she's leading him on as he had led her on earlier. They do finally settle down at the end, but we know theirs won't be a conventional marriage.

While the two stars do not radiate a ton of sexual chemistry, they perform opposite each other with great panache and we root for them as a couple. Helped by pros like Smith and Granville, the whole thing ends up a merry affair, one of the more delightful precode romps that come to mind.

It had been several years since I'd watched this one, which I don't exactly consider noir as much as it's a classic gangster crime drama. Warner Brothers started making these types of stories with great frequency in the early 1930s. By this point, twenty years later, they have crystallized the formula; invested money in better sets and lighting techniques; and rounded up the best director and cast on the studio payroll.

It might be argued that Crawford, at age 45, is a bit too old to play this role...particularly scenes at the beginning when she is a young married woman with a young son. But she's developed such a hardboiled style by this point and knows how to tilt her head at just the precise angles so the tears will cascade down her face the exact moment she is photographed from that side, it's like a masterclass in gritty yet melodramatic acting.

In some scenes, I felt the script was actually too easy for her, so to get enjoyment from it, she vamps it up almost as if she's spoofing rival Bette Davis's performance methods. Indeed, these were probably scripts leftover from when Davis had recently left the studio; so I don't think it's a stretch to say that Crawford is playing Davis playing the character in the script.

One thing that helps the film is having more 'innocent' costars alongside her. Kent Smith is perfect as the naive accountant who falls under her spell and saves her life at the end. David Brian, as a powerful mobster, is almost too altruistic despite the more villainous aspects of his storyline; even when he's "investing" in Crawford as his mistress and using her for his own purposes, there is sincerity on his part. And Steve Cochran as a rival mob boss who romances Crawford in the second half of the picture seems like putty in her hands. She's the real boss of these men.

One irony that doesn't escape me is that in a way the story is about people who leave poverty behind and create new lives for themselves. This involves a fair bit of name changing and impersonation, which is what most of these Hollywood movie stars did in real-life. Joan Crawford as a stage name is as synthetic as they come; she was born Lucille LeSueur (pronounced La Sir). David Brian was really Brian Davis; Steve Cochran's first name was Robert. These personalities on screen were invented from the raw materials of their backgrounds and revised considerably when necessary. If we factor in my theory of Crawford impersonating Davis in her role, then there is an extra layer of postmodernism and pastiche.

The best scene, which puts this film into Crawford's top five for me, is the scene near the end where David Brian's mob character shows up at Crawford's place with Smith and beats her, before Cochran arrives and shoots it out with him. This is where we get Crawford transferring on to the screen what she knows about abuse. It's so precisely choreographed the way she allows herself to be throw into a table, the way she uses her hands and arms to knock over the props on the desk at the right moments.

But at the same time she's taken her mind into the real horror of such moments, where women become punching bags. This is a gutsy performance, that despite all its prefabricated artifice still strikes an honest note.