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Post by Fading Fast on Jun 20, 2024 17:28:54 GMT
Love Letters from 1945 with Jennifer Jones, Joseph Cotton, Gladys Cooper, Robert Sully, Cecil Kellaway and Ann Richards
During and immediately after World War II, with so many young men and women dealing with loss, Hollywood produced several pictures with a variety of fantasy spins on death and separated or departed lovers, including A Guy Named Joe, A Matter of Life and Death and Love Letters.
In Love Letters, Hollywood took the already forced Cyrano de Bergerac story and upped the ante with a mysterious murder and a case of amnesia. This will have you spending some time trying to sort it out, just as the leads, Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotton, have to do.
The Cyrano angle has Cotton playing a soldier who writes beautiful letters for his army buddy, played by Robert Sully, to send to his girlfriend back in England. By proxy, Cotton and Sully's girlfriend become close through these exchanges.
The wrinkle, as the Cyrano wrinkle always is, is that the girlfriend, played here by Jennifer Jones, believes Sully is the sensitive man who wrote the letters, so he is the man she thinks she is in love with.
Now the story gets put into a blender. Cotton returns to London after an honorable discharge, due to an injury. He learns that Sully has married Jones, which depresses him, so he moves to a country house his recently deceased aunt left him.
Before leaving London, he meets a woman "Singleton," played by Jones who has amnesia. There are a lot of little twists that happen before Cotton learns that "Singleton" is the woman with whom he was exchanging letters.
Cotton also learns that Jones killed her husband, but has no memory of it. The trial found her guilty, but with mitigating circumstances - her husband beat her - so she spent only a year in jail, but never regained her memory.
If you're hanging in there so far, then you'll probably be okay with Cotton marrying Jones, despite Jones still not having regained her memory. From here, the movie is their marriage getting bumpy as bits and pieces of Jones' memory come back.
As her memory returns, helped along by much sleuthing by Cotton, the entire story eventually comes out, which makes as much sense as the rest of this highly improbable tale.
You don't stay with this movie for its forced and convoluted mystery, but for its romantic vibe. Cotton and Jones are sincere romantics who have been dealt a rough hand by life. You want to see them get their happily ever after.
Many in England at that time also wanted a happily ever after following so much death and destruction. So the audiences of that era were very forgiving of this Jenga plot and simply embraced its star-crossed lovers trying to find happiness.
Helping usher all of this mystery and romance along are old pro Gladys Cooper playing a caring ward to pre-memory-loss Jones; Cecil Kellaway in the underused role of Cotton's country-house caretaker and Ann Richards as Jones' post-memory-loss devoted friend.
It's a strong cast, but it takes the leads to pull it off and they just about do. Cotton is a natural at playing kind men with damaged psyches trying to heal themselves. Jones is good at playing a wounded bird lost in her own memory gaps. You want these two to find happiness.
Love Letters does drift into Hallmark territory, but with the noted strong cast, William Dieterle in his directing sweet spot and Ayn Rand writing the screenplay from a Christopher Massie play, the talent, pretty much, shepherds the story over its many bumps. |
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Post by topbilled on Jun 25, 2024 15:35:27 GMT
This neglected film is from 1935.
Put-upon but likable fellow handles adversity
To a degree this is a follow-up to Fields’ previous effort at the studio, IT’S A GIFT and the domestic scenario is pretty much the same. As in the earlier film, Mr. Fields is once again a henpecked hubby and his shrewish wife is once again played by Kathleen Howard who is a perfect foil for him…or should I say, his drunken lackadaisical attitude is a perfect foil for her highly exaggerated brand of social propriety and nagging.
In the role of the daughter, we swap Jean Rouverol for Mary Brian and the rest of the clan includes Vera Lewis as the persnickety mother-in-law and Grady Sutton as the chronically unemployed brother-in-law. With a family like this, no wonder the poor guy wants to drink all the time!
Miss Howard is a former opera singer and she has the ability to use her voice so that it bounces off the walls and comes at her husband in the most alarming way. Fortunately, he has a job as a memory expert (what a career) and can get out of the house for eight hours a day.
There is a funny sequence at the beginning when they must deal with some singing burglars (one of them played by Walter Brennan), and this incident leads to Fields being arrested. He is bailed out by his daughter, the only member of the family who seems to genuinely care about him.
The scene that follows at the breakfast table the next morning is quite hilarious. This is a slow and sure study of domestic madness but through it all Fields seems to be able to keep his calm. We are sure he will prevail unscathed.
Some reviewers think this is Fields’ best performance. I don’t know about that, but I do think it’s his best role because despite the over-the-top situations, he is able to provide a more subdued and ‘normal’ characterization. After all the man does love his wife, or he wouldn’t stay with her. And he has a soft spot for his daughter. He also seems to enjoy working for his boss and gets along with his coworkers. He’s a very put-upon but still likable fellow who handles adversity the best way he can.
The film is not a constant laugh riot. It has some belabored slightly tedious moments. But I think Fields’ goal here is to take us into the life of an average working class man, put all the foibles on display, then let us glimpse the man’s triumphs. The characters could easily veer into cartoon territory, but Fields prevents that from happening. They are somewhat heightened as comic creations but they still remain plausible and relatable. Even when they run into trouble.
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Post by topbilled on Jun 30, 2024 9:48:07 GMT
This neglected film is from 1959.
The nickname people have given him
Robert Taylor made this picture at Paramount in the late 1950s. He was older, but still in good shape and still every inch the star. Like most aging leading men, he had turned to westerns, and the genre suits him just fine.
The film is directed by Michael Curtiz, nearing the end of his Hollywood career. And the screenplay is one of Dudley Nichols’ last efforts (he died six months after THE HANGMAN was released). Costars include Fess Parker whose amiable charms are a nice contrast to no-nonsense Taylor; as well as Tina Louise and Jack Lord who had worked together in GOD’S LITTLE ACRE a year earlier. Lord is particularly good; he’s given the villain role but manages to be quite likable on screen.
Taylor plays a marshal named Mac Bovard who doesn’t care for the nickname people have given him. It was earned because of his ability to track down fugitives and bring them to justice– usually the men he rounds up are found guilty and hanged soon afterward.
The situation is something Mac wants to put in the past, and after catching a guy named Butterfield (Lord’s character), he intends to head west and start a new career as a lawyer. The problem is that Butterfield is using an alias and the only one who can positively identify him is a former girlfriend known as Selah Jennison (Tina Louise).
It’s obvious Mac and Selah will fall in love, when Selah accompanies the lawman on his journey to apprehend Butterfield. But it’s hardly a conventional romance because she decides to betray him and help Butterfield escape custody. Complicating matters is Buck Weston, the friendly sheriff played by Parker.
Buck has also taken a shine to Selah, and he wants to marry her. After she’s forgiven for betraying Mac, she must choose between the two men. The characters don’t really hold grudges very long in this story. Mac has a change of heart after he recaptures Butterfield and ends up letting him go. It’s something that impresses Selah and makes her choose Mac over Buck.
We have learned along the way that Butterfield’s crime involved the death of Mac Bovard’s brother. So for much of the picture’s running time there is a personal need for Mac to make sure Butterfield gets what’s coming to him. But by the end of the story, he realizes a hanging would probably be too harsh, since Butterfield did not actually cause the death and was mostly an innocent bystander. Maybe Mac also lets him go, so that in addition to getting the girl he will no longer be known as The Hangman.
Paramount did not allocate a huge budget for this programmer. In some ways it looks like they’ve borrowed sets that were probably in use for western TV shows of the day, so there is a bit of ordinariness in how the town and the hotel rooms look. They were mainly just trying to tell a good story, and I’d say they succeeded.
Probably the best part of the film, aside from the main cast, is character actress Mabel Albertson. She plays a society woman who appears in a comic relief subplot during the first half. Widow Hopkins comes to town on the same stage as Mac Bovard, and she assumes she might charm him into having dinner with her and spending time together.
Mac snubs her, because she’s rather pushy, and he has an important job to do. Mrs. Hopkins then finds out Mac brought Selah Jennison to the hotel on another stage, without benefit of marriage, and she gets a bit spiteful. But as much as her heart’s been broken, I don’t think she’d want anyone hanged for it.
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Post by topbilled on Jul 4, 2024 16:34:26 GMT
This neglected film is from 1935.
Accent on love
Samson Raphaelson’s hit play of the same name was the basis for this adaptation by the folks at Paramount who needed a project for Sylvia Sidney. At age 25 she is paired with 45 year old Herbert Marshall, and in case you think that’s too much of an age difference, it happens to be the point of the story. The romance drama which unfolds is about how a young secretary (Sidney) falls for her playwright boss (Marshall) who tries to discourage her, though of course, he falls for her in return.
Much is made about how “wrong” it is for a middle-aged man to chase after a gal young enough to be his daughter. But we’re told that it’s okay if the scenario’s reversed, and the young gal chases after the older man. Not sure why it’s any different, I guess because the gent is supposed to feel flattered and alive, not desperately trying to hang on to the past.
Since Marshall’s character is reluctant to plunge into a full-fledged romance with Sidney, he discharges her and reconnects with an ex-flame (Astrid Allwyn). Incidentally, Allwyn’s character doesn’t seem that much older than Sidney’s. But when Marshall’s creative juices flow and he is inspired to write a new play, he needs Sidney back as his secretary and he quickly dumps Allwyn, who isn’t seen again.
Just when we think Marshall and Sidney are on track as a couple, a few complications occur. Marshall has cast Sidney as the leading lady in his play, since the character is mostly based on her. While she is essentially playing herself on stage, she becomes an object of desire for her similarly aged leading man (Phillip Reed).
Marshall realizes Reed wants Sidney, and he thinks Sidney would be better off with someone her own age. So he bows out gracefully and pushes her to marry Reed after the play closes. You get the idea, we’ve swapped one triangle for another one.
Mixed in with the ongoing romantic angst are some witty barbs about life in the theater and life in general. In a way it’s a sobering treatise on how reality and art influence each other. When Marshall’s character tries to impart wisdom and some home truths to Sidney’s character, he usually phrases it in the form of a dramatic scene. He believes important decisions can be made by imagining solutions found in the creative process. On that level, Raphaelson’s story is rather profound; and Marshall is perfectly cast, since he always does seem quite wise in his roles.
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Post by topbilled on Jul 13, 2024 7:26:52 GMT
This neglected film is from 1930.
Jeanette MacDonald in Monaco
Jeanette MacDonald was under contract to Paramount in the late 1920s and early 1930s. She had already been in a very successful picture directed by Ernst Lubitsch the year before, called THE LOVE PARADE (1929), which was her screen debut. The star and director had become good friends, and they were eager to make other films together.
In THE LOVE PARADE, MacDonald was paired with Maurice Chevalier, with whom she’d team up again. But for this production, the execs at Paramount persuaded Lubitsch to hire British musical entertainer Jack Buchanan.
Buchanan was no Chevalier, a fact that was mentioned in contemporary reviews, but Buchanan’s calling card was his ability to effortlessly play idle rich characters. He may not have poured on the charm like Chevalier but his men-about-town were a perfect combination of self-importance and endearing laziness (if such a thing exists).
Buchanan had a huge following in his native Britain and across Europe, which would boost ticket sales abroad. Plus he had been earning raves for his work on stage in New York.
MacDonald has the more defined role, however, in MONTE CARLO. She plays a woman betrothed to marry an oafish duke (Claud Allister) that she doesn’t love. Deciding there must be a better life elsewhere, she jilts Allister and hops on a train with her maid (ZaSu Pitts, who doesn’t have enough screen time). MacDonald and Pitts travel the countryside and end up along the Riviera where they take up residence at a posh hotel, albeit with limited funds since she forfeited a lot of dough running out on the duke.
In the Monacan hotspot MacDonald burns through the money she has and finds herself about to be evicted from the hotel. However, during an exciting night at the casino, she has caught the eye of Buchanan who is there for his own reasons. But when she isn’t open to meeting him formally, he poses as a hairdresser and gets to know her that way!
Some of what transpires is rather dragged out nonsense. The story could easily have been told in about 70 minutes, but because of the inclusion of several long musical numbers the whole thing stretches to 90 minutes. There are numbers with her singing on the train, singing in bed, singing on the telephone— she sings practically everywhere. I’m surprised they didn’t include a scene with her singing on the toilet.
At least MacDonald is always pleasant to look at and is in splendid voice. Buchanan’s musical numbers are a bit more laidback; his style probably doesn’t mesh with MacDonald the way Chevalier’s does— hence the reason contemporary reviewers compared Buchanan unfavorably to Chevalier. But Buchanan more than holds his own in the film.
There’s a clever reference in the last sequence to the Monsieur Beaucaire opera, which is about a hairdresser in a royal court. We see MacDonald along with Allister who is now back in her life, plus Buchanan who is now out in the open as an upper class gent, all attending an opera production. MacDonald realizes who Buchanan really is, and the resolution of their story is contrasted nicely with what appears down on stage. But unlike the characters in the opera, these two will enjoy a much happier ending.
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Post by Fading Fast on Jul 13, 2024 10:10:12 GMT
If you are only going to read one review of "Monte Carlo," read Topbilled's ⇧ as it's really good and it has some excellent inside-Hollywood color. Plus, it has this hilarious line, "I’m surprised they didn’t include a scene with her singing on the toilet."
Monte Carlo from 1930 with Jeanette MacDonald, Jack Buchanan and Zasu Pitts
Monte Carlo is a musical impressively ahead of its time, but with a story and pacing that will try your patience, and characters that you'll often find irritating. The result is this Ernst Lubitsch-directed effort is more of a historical curio than an enjoyable movie.
Jeanette MacDonald plays an impulsive and penniless noblewoman who loves money but not enough to marry the goofy, yet very wealthy Duke who has asked for her hand. At the movie's opening, MacDonald jilts the Duke and bolts to Monte Carlo.
With little money, but with her loyal maid, played by Zasu Pitts, in tow, MacDonald's "plan" is to win big at the casinos to pay her bills. That plan works about as well as it always does, so MacDonald finds herself running up a hotel bill she can't afford.
A wealthy Count, played by Jack Buchanan, who falls in love with MacDonald on sight, pretends to be a hairdresser to get close to her: it's that kind of movie. MacDonald comes to sort of love Buchanan, but she won't marry a poor "nobody" hairdresser.
While there are many bumps along the way - MacDonald's ex-fiancé the Duke shows up, she chases Buchanan away and then can't find him, and the hotel is about to evict her - the only "conflict” is when and how MacDonald will learn the truth about Buchanan.
In the climax, no spoilers coming, Lubitsch cleverly parallels MacDonald and Buchanan's hairdresser/count/noblewoman story with the plot of an opera, Monsieur Beaucaire, that MacDonald and Buchanan are attending, so that they see their conundrum playing out on stage.
Throughout the movie, in a modern Broadway musical way, MacDonald and Buchanan break into song, with movements and dialogue integrated into the action. Most musicals at this time, more or less, just plopped some songs into the picture where they "fit" a bit.
In Monte Carlo, the songs advance the story, plus the scenes are often quite creative, even incorporating the sounds and motion of the train into the score of one of the numbers.
While some of the songs are very dated in style, a few might appeal to fans of show tunes today, as some sound like modern Broadway musical numbers. For students of musicals, one assumes this is an important film from a historical perspective.
The problem is one doesn't enjoy a picture for its historical importance, one enjoys it for its characters and story. Here, Monte Carlo struggles. While MacDonald is super cute and talented, her character is often annoying and obnoxious.
We don't know her entire background, but we see she just takes for granted that she should live the life of a noblewoman, so she arrogantly spends beyond her means and is regularly condescending to anyone not of her class.
She even runs hot and cold in her attitude toward her maid, Pitts, who is her only real friend and confidant. Pitt's acting brand was playing the weary, put-upon servant with a heart under all her kvetching, but here you wish she'd pop MacDonald one in a few scenes.
Buchanan isn't much better as he comes across as creepy and lecherous in his scenes playing the hairdresser. Our standards are different today, but even by 1930 standards, he often feels more like a sexual predator than a gentleman in love.
What you're left with in Monte Carlo is a creative early musical with a silly Lubitsch plot and some unappealing characters. Still, there are moments when MacDonald is engaging as her talent and cuteness are undeniable. Plus, Pitts is fun as always.
The movie will only be worth watching if you are a big fan of musicals, old movies, and zany Lubitsch plots, and if you don't mind some irritating lead characters. If you can check all those boxes, you'll probably enjoy Monte Carlo.
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Post by topbilled on Jul 13, 2024 12:54:34 GMT
I agree...they should have fleshed out the background of MacDonald's character a bit better. It's awfully hard to believe she didn't have other, less oafish dukes, vying for her hand in marriage. Surely she must have had opportunities with other wealthy men before she met Buchanan. If they had explained she was fickle, or that she'd had her heart badly broken in the past (maybe a man she really loved had died in the war), then we would have been onside a bit more with her character. But as it is, she seems rather shallow, and like you say, Fading Fast, why didn't Pitts' character give her a few home truths or pop her one?!
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Post by topbilled on Jul 21, 2024 7:40:08 GMT
This film is from 1953.
Some films are pure yet so entertaining
Some films are pure in their message, and yet so entertaining. It’s not surprising they do well with contemporary audiences, and also with audiences decades later watching for the first time. That’s what makes something a classic, if you ask me. And there can be no better example of classic film making than William Wyler’s ROMAN HOLIDAY.
A large part of the pureness of this film is due to its two remarkable stars, Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn. There isn’t anything less than sincerity in their performances.
Even when Peck is trying to mislead Hepburn in order to get the story of the year, his character is still strangely genuine. It doesn’t matter that this is a romance between a reporter and a royal princess; it’s a romance between real human beings. The story might have been mishandled by other actors, but these two can do no wrong with it. Maybe they were really playing a part of themselves on screen, and that’s why it’s so magical.
Hepburn would win an Oscar for her work and she shot to super stardom because of this film. But Peck brings great skill and a quiet strength to his role. He almost seems to be underplaying and letting her lead the emotions of the situation. In fact Peck seems very conscious of what his character represents, and in the final scenes, where they have a bittersweet parting, it still manages to be a happy ending because Peck’s earnestness assures us it has to be.
William Wyler would direct Peck five years later in the western THE BIG COUNTRY; and he would direct Hepburn twice in the 60s, in the remake of THE CHILDREN’S HOUR and in HOW TO STEAL A MILLION. Arguably, those later productions do not contain the kind of pureness we find in ROMAN HOLIDAY.
Sometimes filmmakers put whatever they can into a motion picture, just to make it work. The labor involved is evident. Other times, it is easier and just flows on to the screen beautifully. And what we get out of it is a most pleasant surprise.
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Post by Fading Fast on Jul 21, 2024 8:23:33 GMT
Roman Holiday from 1953 with Audrey Hepburn, Gregory Peck and Eddie Albert
The story of a young, pretty princes breaking out from her royal gilded cage for a day-or-so-long rumspringa, where she meets a regular guy, falls in love and then has to choose between the life of duty she was born into or following her heart, come what may, was not a new tale in 1953 and has been retold in endless variations ever since.
In 1953's Roman Holiday, though, director William Wyler, along with co-stars Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, with an assist from the city of Rome itself, created the definitive movie version of this wistful love story.
It's hard to decide what to praise first. In her breakout role, twenty-four-year-old Audrey Hepburn sparkles as the cosseted princess who takes flight for a day or so to experience freedom and "regular" life.
Her joy at sitting at an outdoor cafe, buying gelato from a street vendor or riding on a Vespa is infectious. It's youth and beauty and freshness and wonder all springing from one stunning, lythe and vivacious girl.
But our heroine needs a charming young man for accompaniment on her brief adventure, so Hollywood served up the perfect offering in handsome "regular guy" Gregory Peck playing a reporter who sees a career-making story all but fall into his lap when he finds the momentarily wayward princess sleeping on a public bench.
Peck plays tour guide, friend and mentor to the innocent princess, ostensibly to get a story, but really to be a love interest to round out Hepburn's few days of freedom.
Peck's motives are conflicted - he even brings along his photographer friend, wonderfully played by Eddie Albert, so that his story will have accompanying pictures - but there's no real menace in Roman Holiday as the movie is all about a fleeting moment of joy.
Rome itself, still a bit tattered and frayed from WWII, provides a picturesque background of old world elegance with a youthful vibe for Hepburn and Peck to run around, get into harmless scrapes with the locals and elude the secret service agents looking for their missing princess. And while that fun is going on, these two attractive and nice people, naturally, fall in love.
Wyler and team are too smart to allow this fairytale to become cloying, so you are always reminded that this "perfect" love story faces an all-but-insurmountable challenge as Hepburn is no ordinary girl and Peck is not royalty.
The climax of Roman Holiday, which could easily have become overly sentimental, strikes a poignant balance between warmth and reality to complete one of Hollywood most-charming romantic comedies ever. Hollywood will never stop retelling this story, but it's unlikely it will ever get it more right than it did with this one magical picture in 1953. |
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Post by topbilled on Jul 28, 2024 15:39:23 GMT
This neglected film is from 1932.
“Leave it to a newspaper man to make it dirty.”
There’s a scene near the beginning of this Paramount precode, after a shocking murder has been committed, where Edmund Lowe shows up to get the scoop. He plays a newshound, not quite in the Lee Tracy mode, but just as annoying I suppose. As his frenemy, the head investigator (Victor McLaglen) tries to collect evidence, Lowe phones the newspaper office with his own salacious take on the crime scene. Of course, he’ll make it all sound as dirty as he can for readers.
Lowe is very good in this role. He’s a well-heeled man-about-town with a penchant for the sensational. The quips come fast and furious, especially when he goes toe to toe with McLaglen.
Incidentally, Lowe & McLaglen were a movie team of sorts, who made 11 motion pictures together. The first one was a silent version of WHAT PRICE GLORY, and GUILTY AS HELL comes near the beginning of their various collaborations.
Maybe one reason the Lowe-McLaglen team works so well is that they are complete opposites. Lowe is a bit urbane, while McLaglen is from the rough-and-tumble school of hard knocks. Yet, I think these two actors respected each other a great deal; and they seem to enjoy the ongoing banter between them, at least in this offering.
The story, which was remade by Paramount as NIGHT CLUB SCANDAL in 1937, concerns a crafty doctor (Henry Stephenson) who decides to kill his unfaithful wife (Claire Dodd) and pin it on the gal’s lover (Richard Arlen). The doc is so effective at constructing a frame-up as well as a false alibi for himself that he nearly gets away with it. The “alibi” is corroborated by a nosey landlady (Elizabeth Patterson, the only performer to repeat her role in the remake).
Complicating matters is Arlen’s sis (Adrienne Ames). She believes in her brother’s innocence and convinces Lowe to dig deeper for the real story. Lowe agrees to help, even if McLaglen and a jury are satisfied that Arlen is the guilty party. But there’s only so much time to obtain a stay of execution.
In the meantime we have a subplot involving a shady nightclub owner (Ralph Ince) who can incriminate the doctor. After Ince is shot during a scuffle with McLaglen and legs it, he is in need of medical attention. Guess who shows up to remove the bullet, but to also make sure the man doesn’t survive the operation? You got it, the doctor.
Stephenson does an okay job in the role, but John Barrymore who plays the clever physician in the remake and gets top billing, is certainly better. With Barrymore, we can more easily believe that a respected man might begin to go mad. The scenes where the doctor becomes increasingly unhinged add to the picture’s tension and intrigue.
However, we are never in doubt that the stars of this first version, Lowe & McLaglen, are the main attraction. While their banter gets a bit excessive (betraying some of the talkie aspects of precode Hollywood), it’s still rather enjoyable watching these guys tangle and make-up.
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Post by Fading Fast on Jul 28, 2024 16:21:44 GMT
Guilty as Hell from 1932 with Edmund Lowe, Victor McLaglen, Henry Stephenson, Adrienne Ames, Noel Francis, Claire Dodd and Richard Arlen
Guilty as Hell is a good murder-investigation movie where we know who did it from the first scene, but today, its two drawbacks are some clunky inchoate "talkies" filmmaking and all the better versions of this story that have come since.
If you can understand the limits of technology back then and appreciate an early version of a story that's been reused and expanded on for over ninety years, Guilty as Hell is a quick, fun precode with an enjoyable cast.
At the open, a doctor, played by Henry Stephenson, strangles his wife. He has thoughtfully planned it all, including planting incriminating evidence pointing to her lover (yup) and giving himself an alibi helped by the slow-to-start-up vacuum tubes used in radios of that era.
With the doctor seemingly in the clear, the lead detective, played by Victor McLaglen, and his buddy and antagonist (it's that type of relationship), a star reporter played by Edmund Lowe, conduct a bumpy investigation where each does some smart and some stupid things.
McLaglen falls pretty much for the doctor's entire story as does Lowe, until Lowe meets the adorable sister, played by Adrienne Ames, of the falsely accused man, played by Richard Arlen, who was the doctor's young wife's lover. A pretty face can do a lot to a man.
Now the movie is McLaglen and Stephenson driving for a conviction of Arlen, while Lowe and Ames look at every clue from sixty different angles as they try to find anything to exculpate Arlen. Despite their efforts, Arlen is found guilty, as the doctor did a very good job framing him.
As has been the wont of these stories ever since, it all comes down to a desperate last-second call to the governor for a stay of execution as the intrepid Lowe and Ames never stop examining everything over and over again.
McLaglen and Lowe, who were a "buddy team" in other movies, at this time, have good but not great chemistry. Lowe comes off as too cocky and even nasty to be likable. His conversion to crusader for justice is so obviously motivated just to get the pretty girl that he looks like a jerk.
Ames is cute and loyal, but the woman to watch is Noel Francis as the wife of the man whom Stephenson paid to help with the false evidence. When things go horribly wrong for her husband, Francis earns her precode girl-power bona fides with a display of raw revenge-driven passion.
Director Erle C. Kenton, working within the limits of the technology back then, keeps his movie speeding along, but there is a lot of bumpiness to the transitions, plus scenes often feel stagy. In only a few years, Hollywood would work most of these kinks out of the "talkies."
The reason this story is still told today is because it is good drama. A smart man commits a murder and frames another man so well that even experienced detectives and lawyers are fooled enough that the framed man is convicted of murder and scheduled to be executed.
Guilty as Hell, a perfect precode title - movies wouldn't see titles like that for several decades once the Motion Picture Production Code was enforced after 1934 - is an okay movie whose value today is its early look at a plot that is so good Hollywood has been recycling it ever since. |
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Post by topbilled on Jul 28, 2024 16:31:36 GMT
I love this paragraph:
"...the woman to watch is Noel Francis as the wife of the man whom Stephenson paid to help with the false evidence. When things go horribly wrong for her husband, Francis earns her precode girl-power bona fides with a display of raw revenge-driven passion."
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Post by topbilled on Aug 6, 2024 13:17:18 GMT
This neglected film is from 1936.
Lone star rangers
The lead role in this durable outdoor picture from Paramount was intended for Gary Cooper. But before the cameras rolled, studio execs decided he was making too many outdoor action yarns, so at the last minute they pulled him off this project and gave the role to fellow contract player Fred MacMurray. One wonders how often MacMurray got Cooper’s “leftovers.”
It’s worth noting that this was MacMurray’s first western film. MacMurray himself was the first to admit he didn’t exactly feel at ease on a horse. Typically, he stuck with romantic stories, comedies or crime flicks. However, he would return to western fare full-time in the 1950s when the genre was at its peak, to keep the momentum of his big screen career going before he transitioned to a weekly television series in the early 1960s.
Costarring with MacMurray as two of the other rangers in the story are Jack Oakie and Lloyd Nolan. Like MacMurray, Oakie seldom ventured into this genre, sticking more with comedies that suited his unique brand of shtick and broad acting style.
As for Nolan, he was being assigned good supporting roles in ‘A’ pictures, though he also began doing leads in ‘B’ pics. Since MacMurray’s inherited Cooper’s role, he is playing the more heroic character. Oakie is along as a trusty sidekick, while Nolan gets to be the bad guy outlaw that MacMurray and Oakie must track down.
Interestingly, all three are pals and on the wrong side of the law in the beginning, before MacMurray and Oakie shape up. They sign up to become respectable Texas Rangers, while Nolan continues a life of crime. During the course of the story, MacMurray falls for a sweet girl (Jean Parker).
In real life the Texas Rangers first gained prominence as a law enforcement agency in the 1830s. After the Civil War, the Rangers were temporarily disbanded; then re-formed and are still active law enforcers today. When Paramount made this film, a book had just been published by Walter Webb celebrating the hundred-year exploits of the Rangers.
The film was directed by King Vidor on location in Texas and parts of New Mexico. It was Vidor’s first outdoor western since 1930’s BILLY THE KID. He wouldn’t make another such picture until 1946’s DUEL IN THE SUN— that one was filmed in Arizona. Years later, THE TEXAS RANGERS was included as part of a retrospective of Vidor’s work.
In 1940 Paramount produced a sequel, TEXAS RANGERS RIDE AGAIN which featured a different cast since Oakie’s character is killed off, and Nolan had moved over to making Michael Shayne detective dramas at 20th Century Fox. MacMurray was in the process of being loaned to Warner Brothers for an aviation story with Errol Flynn. The sequel had lesser known stars and a smaller budget. It was helmed by director James Hogan who was known more for his ‘B’ fare.
Later in the decade the studio decided to go back to the original story and remake it as STREETS OF LAREDO in 1949. In the remake William Holden would be cast as the hero; MacDonald Carey would play the villain; Mona Freeman was the female love interest; and William Bendix would take over for Oakie.
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Post by topbilled on Aug 14, 2024 7:11:12 GMT
This neglected film is from 1959.
Border war
Fess Parker is billed second in this Paramount Technicolor western that was filmed in VistaVision. But clearly he is playing the most prominent character. He’s cast as an ex-raider who was incarcerated after acts of violence committed by his men had injured and killed countless people in pre-Civil War Kansas. He has now broken out of prison on account that he’s received news his wife died. As a fugitive from justice, he’s riding a dark trail that may end in his own death.
It’s a role that had been intended for William Holden, but Holden turned it down to make THE HORSE SOLDIERS with John Ford and John Wayne. It’s a shame that Holden didn’t stay with this production, because he would have more to do here than he does in the Ford-Wayne picture. But Parker is a more than adequate fill-in who does an admirable job with the dramatic aspects of the story, and even gets to strum guitar and sing a little.
Parker had just severed ties with Walt Disney and signed with Paramount, eager to make his mark in more multidimensional roles. Parker’s character ends up becoming heroic by the end of the story, a Jayhawker in name only, since we learn it is mostly a ruse to ferret out the more violent raider leader, played by Jeff Chandler. The studio borrowed Chandler from his home studio Universal, and he has a field day as a baddie in the mold of abolitionist John Brown.
There is some sort of history lesson to be found in the drama that unfolds, but most of it seems watered down. Chandler’s character is supposedly against slavery, but he’s more interested in using the upcoming war between the states to gain control over Kansas territory. As for Parker’s character, it is implied he’s neither for nor against one side; just that he’d been more interested in protecting his farm.
Part of the story involves an attractive French immigrant (Nicole Maurey) and her two young children. They’ve taken over Parker’s land, since it had been sold to settle debts while he was in the penitentiary. Of course, Parker wants to reclaim his farm and interacts with Maurey’s character more than once, which paves the way for a budding romance to occur.
While this aspect of the plot is fairly extraneous, Parker does register chemistry with Maurey and the child actors; their scenes together are worth watching. As for Parker’s interactions with Chandler, there is considerable homoerotic tension in most of their scenes. I don’t think this is Parker’s “fault” since he seems to play his role rather straight; I think instead this is a type of energy that Chandler brings to the scenes since he seems to be attracted to Parker’s energy.
A homoerotic reading is probably not intended by the scriptwriter and director— and it certainly wouldn’t be condoned by the production code— but it still does become a noticeable part of Chandler’s characterization. It gives him additional dimension and ambiguity. We see Parker treat him like a brother, despite his evil ways on screen; but there is no real hope for Chandler, who at best can only be assured a noble death if he ultimately dies for a good cause.
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Post by topbilled on Aug 21, 2024 13:46:31 GMT
This neglected film is from 1939.
Historically inaccurate western is meant to entertain
Paramount’s writer-director Paul Sloane, whose career in films stretched back to the silent days of Hollywood, was the first person to bring Geronimo’s life to the big screen. There would be later accounts of the famed Apache chief’s story— including one offering from the early 1960s where blond haired blue eyed Chuck Connors played the role (egads!)— but here we have ethnic looking character actor Victor Daniels as Geronimo, credited by his stage name Chief Thundercloud.
Daniels/Thundercloud plays the part of the warring chief with the requisite amount of menace and cold-blooded determination. As history buffs know, Geronimo was one tough dude who had successfully led small parties in raiding pioneer settlements. He and his men were able to outfight most armies, and supposedly $40 million was spent to capture him.
Obviously Paramount did not spend forty mil to make this film. While there was on-location shooting done in Texas— usually backgrounds that were projected inside the soundstage— nearly all of the film was produced in Hollywood— either on the backlot or at a company-owned ranch. Also saving on the budget was Sloane’s idea to reuse stock battle footage from earlier productions like THE PLAINSMAN (1936) and THE LIVES OF A BENGAL LANCER (1935) which had similar story elements. Yes, the main goal was not necessarily historical accuracy, but to make a rousing western adventure that entertained matinee audiences in 1939.
Besides Daniels/Thundercloud, the other lead role is portrayed by Preston Foster as an Army captain whose mission it is to conquer Geronimo. He’s good on a horse and even better at using a sword.
Helping him is a fresh new officer just out of West Point (William Henry) who has much to learn while demonstrating his heroism and his love for a fair damsel (Ellen Drew in a light-colored hairstyle). Part of the film’s romantic storyline concerns itself with which man Drew fancies most: Henry or Foster.
As these plot elements play out, we continue to see Geronimo’s fanatical hatred of the ‘palefaces’ in western territory. He is aided by a crooked white man (Gene Lockhart) who supplies repeating rifles and ammunition. One of the more violent sequences involves Geronimo’s murder of Henry’s mother (Marjorie Gateson) who is traveling on a stagecoach through a dangerous section of disputed land.
There is a subplot involving Henry’s estranged father (Ralph Morgan), who happens to be an Army general. Morgan’s character leaves a protected fort to assist his son in overtaking the Apaches. But Geronimo has set a trap, and this leads to a huge gun battle in which Morgan is critically wounded and Preston’s character is killed. It’s quite a massacre.
Henry then rallies the rest of the Army soldiers to corner Geronimo who like some sort of gangster in hiding, has disguised himself as a soldier. Ultimately Henry gets wise to the ruse and is the one to pounce upon the renegade leader, dealing the final death blow. Before the conclusion of all these violent action scenes, we are shown a poignant reconciliation between father and son.
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