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Post by topbilled on Nov 17, 2023 19:14:27 GMT
This neglected film is from 1933.
Oh, for the love of Mike!
There’s an amusing line around the 18 minute mark of this independently produced precode. Ben Lyon’s character brings a bundled up murder victim into his newspaper editor’s office and explains it’s evidence against a fisherman (Ernest Torrence) suspected of wrongdoing. The editor asserts that there is no direct link between the body and the fisherman, and if they were to go ahead and print the story, they’d be sued for libel. Lyon, frustrated over his inability to make headway, grimaces and shouts ‘oh for the love of Mike!’
The line is not only amusing but ironic, since six years earlier, Lyon and leading lady Claudette Colbert had previously costarred in a silent film called FOR THE LOVE OF MIKE (1927). That picture, made by First National and directed by Frank Capra, was a flop. But it served as Colbert’s motion picture debut. By this point, she had enjoyed a series of notable successes at Paramount and would just a year later receive an Oscar for another film directed by Capra— IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT.
Typically Colbert was not loaned out, unless she was being punished for rejecting scripts at her home studio. If she refused the loan out assignment, she’d go without pay. In this case, she was loaned to indy producer Edward Small and it was a chance to work with Lyon again and play the fetching daughter of Torrence’s character.
This would be Torrence’s last film, since he died shortly after production. Colbert infuses her part with a great deal of allure and sex appeal. The first time we meet her character, she’s skinny dipping in the ocean, which gives you some idea about her!
The main conflict, of course, involves Lyon’s crusade to bring Torrence and a bunch of cohorts down…while simultaneously falling in love with Colbert, who is in the dark about dear old dad’s nefarious smuggling operation.
Some scenes are rather grisly…especially one early on in the picture where Torrence’s boat is about to be inspected by the Coast Guard. He orders his men to toss a Chinese immigrant overboard, tied up in chains. Torrence’s character doesn’t seem to have any qualms about this; it’s all in a day’s work, apparently.
Producer Edward Small remade the story in 1961 as SECRET OF DEEP HARBOR. That time, the plot was slightly revised, and the evil fisherman was not smuggling in immigrants from the Orient, but rather he was smuggling out gangsters hoping to avoid arrest. I think the modified plot for the remake actually makes more sense, from a crime story perspective. The stakes would be higher by having wealthy hoods fleeing prosecution, than by having poor immigrants trying to sneak in to the country illegally.
The original version clocks in at a very speedy 72 minutes and the slower scenes, few that there may be, are bolstered by the easy rapport between Lyon and Colbert. The sets are rather dingy and crude. This is no glamorous affair. But it is all all quite engaging, and the depravity of the supporting characters gives the film a raw edge that most Hollywood projects lacked after the enforcement of the production code.
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Post by topbilled on Dec 20, 2023 13:18:22 GMT
This neglected film is from 1954.
When a cop goes bad
By the time this film was produced, Edmond O’Brien had already made a name for himself in crime dramas. He’d been in hits like WHITE HEAT, D.O.A. and 711 OCEAN DRIVE. In those pictures, he was usually a likable fellow who believed in justice. He was sometimes put in compromising positions and had to deal with ironic situations. But there was never any doubt as to his decent nature. This time, he is decidedly on the wrong side of the law.
In SHIELD FOR MURDER he’s playing a policeman who has seen better days. We watch him kill someone right from the start, and not in self-defense. He takes a bunch of loot and stashes it behind a model home. Later, when a witness who happens to be deaf and mute goes to the precinct where he works, he realizes he’s got trouble. So he quickly eliminates the poor guy! In a scene reminiscent of Richard Widmark’s most heinous act in KISS OF DEATH, O’Brien pushes the old man down a flight of stairs. Yes, he will not be celebrated for upholding the law at any cop of the year banquet.
Mostly, the plot for this economic B noir has no real surprises in it, for once O’Brien is revealed as a rogue officer with a penchant for killing, we know things will just get worse…until he’s eventually found out and brought down. One of his coworkers (John Agar) will be responsible for nabbing him, though it takes awhile to put the pieces together. Meanwhile, there’s a luscious dame— played by 19 year old Marla English who at the time of filming was twenty years younger than 39 year old O’Brien— who may end up married to this murderer, unless Agar intervenes in time.
SHIELD FOR MURDER can be described as a good-cop-turns-bad-cop yarn full of fascinating scenes and a fair bit of intrigue. O’Brien, who also directed the picture, is in control as the crooked detective whose increasing corruption becomes more and more obvious with each additional felony he commits. Yet the drama is played somewhat realistically and despite the occasional contrivances, it all remains believable. Viewer interest is achieved by including assorted oddball characters, such as one portrayed by bohemian gal Carolyn Jones who has a memorable bar scene with O’Brien.
These strange people, mixed with the atmospheric touches and O’Brien’s careful direction, give the story flair and make it fun to watch. In addition to these elements, the narrative is punctuated by a spectacular chase during the final minutes. The big climax occurs with O’Brien’s character embroiled in a tense shoot-out at a men’s athletic club.
The film’s cheap sets work in its favor to underscore the tawdry goings on. And while the climactic ending is predictable, it’s still worth it to glimpse an evil lawman facing the consequences of his actions.
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 20, 2023 16:29:59 GMT
Shield for Murder from 1954 with Edmond O'Brien, John Agar, Marla English and Caroline Jones (in a fun, small role as a prostitute)
The thing about noir, for all its darkness, the good guys almost always win and the bad guys almost always lose - in the end. Until the late 1950s, that's what the Motion Picture Production Code allowed and, maybe, that's what America was ready to hear about itself.
Shield for Murder is a noir-crime drama about a cop gone bad. Four years prior, a version of this story was done well in the movie with the awful name The Man Who Cheated Himself. In Shield for Murder, a veteran detective, played by Edmond O'Brien, kills in cold blood, a bookie carrying a $25,000 bankroll for the big boss.
O'Brien wants the money so he can buy a house and marry his pretty waitress girlfriend, who, surprisingly, is not a femme fatale, but a nice girl who would have happily married O'Brien without the house. This one can't be fobbed off on the "bad" woman - a normal noir tic.
After this early set up, the rest of the movie is watching O'Brien's world slowly unravel. His younger partner, well trained by O'Brien, as O'Brien was a talented detective, notices the gaps and inconsistencies in O'Brien's story, but his mind isn't, yet, ready to connect the dots back to O'Brien.
In an early movie look at the "Blue Wall," directors O'Brien and Howard Koch show how the police circle the wagons when one of their own, O'Brien, is challenged. The precinct's first move, from the Captain down, it's instinctual, is to accept O'Brien's account, sweep inconsistencies under the rug and quickly move on.
The big mob boss, out $25,000, isn't sweeping anything under the rug as he sends his goons after O'Brien. The turn for O'Brien, though, where it all falls apart, is when a deaf mute comes forward as a witness to the killing. Unfortunately, he brings his story to O'Brien.
Now it's all a by-the-numbers tale of a crooked cop becoming desperate to cover up a story that's falling apart on him. (Spoiler alert) After O'Brien kills the witness, his young partner finally allows himself to connect the dots. O'Brien then goes completely rogue, even turning to the mob for help in escaping the city with the police now searching for him.
(A few more spoiler alerts) Bad move, as the mob is still mad about its "missing" $25,000, so they double cross O'Brien. Even his girlfriend goes to the police to help them find O'Brien; it's the right move, but still. All that's left is the obligatory showdown where a crazed O'Brien, with the stolen money in one hand, tries to shoot it out with the entire police force.
It's 1954, so we're told, effectively, the Blue Wall, if it exists at all, is really only for minor transgressions, but for serious crimes, the police will do the right thing even if they have to bring in one of their own.
In less than a decade, noir will morph into truly gritty and shocking stories where the cops can be the bad guys and the good guys lose, but for now, as in Shield for Murder, that wasn't a line that Hollywood would yet cross. |
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 20, 2023 16:36:53 GMT
At that time, Caroline Jones was one of Hollywood's go-to actresses for "prostitute" or "bohemian" lifestyle girl.
She played it in 1954's "Shield for Murder," in 1957's "The Bachelor Party" and 1959's "A Hole in the Head" and maybe others that I haven't seen.
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Post by topbilled on Dec 20, 2023 16:43:48 GMT
At that time, Caroline Jones was one of Hollywood's go-to actresses for "prostitute" or "bohemian" lifestyle girl.
She played it in 1954's "Shield for Murder," in 1957's "The Bachelor Party" and 1959's "A Hole in the Head" and maybe others that I haven't seen.
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Post by topbilled on Dec 27, 2023 9:16:29 GMT
This neglected film is from 1932.
Comedy about WWI flyers
This is an amusing precode comedy from several folks who specialized in farces. Director Edward Sutherland who had been a Keystone Cop for Mack Sennett during the silent film days brings a zany sensibility to an already funny script co-authored by humorist Robert Benchley. There are screwball elements involving two would-be flyers (Spencer Tracy and George Cooper) who end up behind enemy lines and ultimately save the day, similar to how Buster Keaton operated in DOUGHBOYS.
Of course, the main reason for making the film was so that producer Howard Hughes could use leftover aerial footage from his epic war flick HELL’S ANGELS (1930). There are plenty of flying sequences with some nail-biting stunts, here played for laughs. In addition to the moments in the air, we have a few romantic interludes down on the ground that involve Tracy, an antagonistic sergeant (William ‘Stage’ Boyd) and a showgirl (Ann Dvorak, who’d also appear in Hughes’ gangster picture SCARFACE the same year).
Helped by a talented supporting cast, Tracy and Dvorak come off the best. Despite a continuously raucous turn of events, the pair bring an earnest quality to the scenes in which they meet and start to spend time together. Tracy’s character is always on the edge of deserting the army, or at least being accused of it. And at one point, Dvorak is considered to be a possible spy for the Germans. But all those outlandish plot points aside, the real focus is their growing relationship. It’s interesting to see these skilled actors early in their careers, not quite the stars they’d become a short time later.
While this isn’t exactly a memorable motion picture, it is still a pleasant enough time passer. A lot of the dialogue has characters uttering sarcastic lines and most of these quips elicit a chuckle. Tracy, in particular, is most adept at comedy and seems to be having an enjoyable time participating in the nonsense. There’s a hilarious bit early in the film where he and Cooper end up in the back of a dump truck with hay and manure, which they were not able to do with a straight face.
Other reviewers may comment about the anachronistic fashions on screen. Yes, Ann Dvorak’s character seems to wear clothing and sport a hairstyle that belongs to the early 1930s, not the late 1910s. However, I think we can overlook some of these historical goofs, when the end result is so much fun to watch.
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 27, 2023 9:44:25 GMT
Below is a different take on this one.
Sky Devils from 1932 with Spencer Tracy, George Cooper, William Boyd and (thank God) Ann Dvorak
As great a star as Spencer Tracy would become, he and costar George Cooper were miscast as the male leads in Sky Devils, a farcical look at WWI. The picture needed a true vaudevillian comedy team like Wheeler and Woolsey to pull off its hijinx and screwball comedy.
With Tracy and Miller and, later Tracy and William Boyd, trying to carry the farcical humor, though, the picture doesn't work, in particular because Tracy's character is outright dislikable in a not-at-all-funny way.
At the open, Tracy and Cooper are civilian lifeguards during WWI who don't know how to swim, which qualifies as funny in 1930s farcical humor. In one scene, Tracy grabs credit for a rescue done by an Army sergeant played by William Boyd.
Trying to avoid the draft, Tracy and Cooper - through a series of coincidences that have them encountering Boyd again and again - wind up in the army's flight training school where their anti-authority antics land them in the stockade.
They escape, meet up with a couple of cute women, one played by Ann Dvorak. Then Tracy and Boyd - Boyd at first was trying to arrest Tracy - end up AWOL together as they both pursue Dvorak.
All along, there are a lot of pratfalls and slapstick jokes where Tracy comes off as an arrogant jerk. The long climax has Tracy and Boyd back at the airfield where they become heroes for a minute as they accidentally but successfully bomb a German munitions depot.
Finally, with Tracy and Boyd, along with Dvorak (don't ask how she got there), now captured by the Germans, it's Cooper's turn to stumble into action. The conclusion has one more insanely silly and stupid twist as is the wont of these farces.
To enjoy a picture like this you have to embrace, or at least appreciate its style of humor, which here includes men in drag, men in manure piles, men knocking each other down, men wolf-like chasing women and a lot of physical pranks like a man getting tossed by an airplane propeller.
In the hands of deftly skilled vaudevillians, farce is still a tough sell today because modern humor is very different. But with an open mind, it can be appreciated. The problem here is the story isn't great, the humor isn't great and Tracy is unsuited for the material.
Tracy is one of the most-likable actors of all time; it's part of his personal brand, but here he is thoroughly dislikable and in a not-humorous way. Cooper and Boyd would probably be okay seconds, but they can't make up for what Tracy doesn't have.
The one highlight, though, is Dvorak who shows a talent for this style of comedy. Her bedroom scene with Tracy, he's AWOL and trying to hide in her bedroom from the MPs, is maybe the only genuinely funny scene in the movie and all because of Dvorak.
The movie's one other redeeming feature is some good flying sequences that had to be amazing in the early 1930s. They are still impressive today when you realize there was no CGI and flying was still new and very dangerous.
Sky Devils is greatly in need of a restoration, but until all the other better movies are restored, which is a long list, this one can wait, just like you can wait for that to happen before bothering to see it.
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Post by topbilled on Dec 27, 2023 9:50:52 GMT
After I watched SKY DEVILS and wrote my review, I realized why I liked it so much...it occurred to me that, yes it's not a great film, but it has a real good energy. You do have to just accept that it's from a specific era and such comedy may seem quite dated now. I felt the stars were having a good time making it, and this made me enjoy it even more. The death-defying aerial stunts were an added bonus.
I do agree it's in need of a proper restoration.
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Post by topbilled on Jan 2, 2024 13:20:41 GMT
This neglected film is from 1930.
On the ground and in the sky
This independently produced aviation melodrama uses the first World War as a backdrop, and it gives us thrilling scenes on the ground and in the sky. At first I wasn’t sure what to expect, since the film had a lengthy production history. It took about three years (1927 to 1930) for Howard Hughes to bring his vision to the big screen. Much has been written about it starting as a silent epic with a different lead actress, then how Hughes changed course and overspent in his quest for perfection.
Overall, the film is not perfect but there are moments when it comes pretty darn close to perfection. Jean Harlow, in her first starring role, is not the most experienced actress at this point, but she makes a grand impression in her initial scene. By the time we watch her story arc play out, we have been given a fully fleshed out tale of a woman with a lust for life who can’t settle down with one man.
In the beginning of the movie, she is dating a guy (James Hall) while smooching his brother (Ben Lyon) on the side. Her seriousness with one and playfulness with the other gives us two distinct sides of her nature. Also, it illustrates how different the brothers are in what they expect from women and relationships in general.
But of course, Harlow’s scenes take place down below, and at least fifty percent of the picture occurs up in the air…so she is absent for half the real action of what we see on screen.
The brothers are drafted into the war, and an early sequence involving a German zeppelin has them battling a former college chum (John Darrow) who is now on the side of the Nazis. We know the pal will be killed, demonstrating loss during battle.
One thing I found interesting was how Hughes was eager to experiment with different technologies. Not only is he adding in sound and transitioning to talkies, but he is also experimenting with color. There is an early scene with color tinting that takes place at night, and then a subsequent ballroom sequence which is in Technicolor for about eight minutes. This is the only color footage of Harlow.
When we reach the zeppelin sequence, there is a different sort of color tinting used. It’s clear some of the footage had been done when HELL’S ANGELS started as a silent picture, since there is dubbing of voices that doesn’t quite match (such as the dialogue performed by Darrow). But all of this adds to the experimental and artistic quality of the finished product.
Probably the best scenes occur later in the story. By that time Hall’s character has seen plenty of action in the war, but he is still idealistic. He bumps into Harlow while on a furlough inside a bar. She’s busy canoodling with a new guy, and Hall finally realizes what type of woman she is.
Lyon convinces him all women are the same (and apparently all men are the same too) and that he should take up with some other girl inside the bar. There is a lot of drinking, nihilism and passionate kissing in this part. Is this showing us how war changes people, or how precode filmmaking likes to be daring and a bit uncouth?
After the scenes in the bar, Hall and Lyon return to military action. They’ve agreed to fly a secret and dangerous mission that pits them against some ace German pilots, including the well-known Red Baron. Incidentally, the uncredited German character actor who plays the baron– Wilhelm von Brincken– had been a spy during WWI. How’s that for added realism!
The elongated battle sequence between the brothers and the baron is certainly the highlight of HELL’S ANGELS. There are plenty of tense moments in the sky with Hall, Lyon and their fellow aviators engaged in a rip-roaring dogfight against the Nazis. It’s easy to see why this footage enthralled movie audiences in 1930 and why it still excites viewers today.
After all the violent killing that occurred in the dogfight scenes, I didn’t think there needed to be additional deaths at the end. Namely the scene where Hall kills Lyon who plans to stage his own uprising and divulge the details of their mission. Not only is this dramatic business rather gruesome, we have Lyon taking a bullet in the back, which seems wrong on so many levels.
I am not sure Hall would have gone that far and actually committed fratricide. It felt like an over-the-top way to end the narrative. And then right after this, we have Hall being executed which, though it is depicted off-camera, seemed like yet another way to turn this adventurous war flick into out-and-out Greek tragedy.
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Post by Fading Fast on Jan 2, 2024 13:44:17 GMT
⇧ That's a great review. I love all the Hughes and movie technology insight. Plus, good use of "smooching."
Hell's Angels from 1930 with James Hall, Ben Lyon and Jean Harlow
The interwar years saw no lack of anti-war movies with Hell's Angels, co-directed by Howard Hughes, being noted for its still-to-this-day impressive aerial combat scenes.
At just over two hours, it's very long for an early talkie. Not helping are several silent film tics and cluncy production qualities, but it also has an eight-minute two-strip Technicolor sequence, which is impressive for a picture from 1930.
Just before the war, we meet two English brothers, played by Ben Lyon and James Hall, who are good friends with their German roommate at Oxford. Hall is the serious brother, while Lyon is the good-time Charlie with no morals.
Lyon sleeps with brother Hall's girlfriend, played by Jean Harlow, behind his brother's back and even lets his brother fight a duel for him when Lyon is caught cheating with another man's wife. These character traits will not be changed by war.
When war does come, their German friend is drafted into his country's army and Hall enlists in his, but Lyon is all but tricked into joining up. It's the standard but effective moment when good friends have the horrible realization they'll be fighting against each.
Early on, in a moving scene, a German Zeppelin bombs London where the brother's German friend is sacrificed along with other German airmen in a futile attempt to save the airship. The brothers, themselves, are part of the airmen who shoot down the Zeppelin.
Now over in France, Hall distinguishes himself as an airman while Lyon gets labeled yellow for dodging dangerous night duty assignments. He also drinks and sleeps with whores while denouncing the war.
Lyon is not a hero, an intellectual or a formerly gung-ho warrier now denouncing the war - the ploy most anti-war movies take. He's a bit of a louse, but he's also a guy who wants to live, which is his basic excuse for everything bad he does.
It's not ennobling, but it's effective in its own way as it's so believable. He's a regular guy, a guy you know and maybe don't like, who doesn't want to die fighting for a "cause" or to be used as cannon fodder for terms like "patriotism" spouted by people not fighting.
Harlow, too, is unchanged by the war. Now in France as a hostess in an army canteen, she cruelly mocks Hall's love for her as she says bluntly she'd rather get drunk and sleep around.
Harlow, who rarely if ever wore a bra on screen (and, one guesses, off), is so braless in a few scenes, especially in one where she's wearing an evening gown, she comes close to exposing herself. Knowing Hughes' predilections, one senses his hand in these scenes.
In one of those 1930 Hollywood oddities, Hell's Angels turned out to be the only movie in which Harlow, who died in 1937, was filmed in color. In an otherwise black-and-white movie, she's filmed in the aforementioned eight-minute party scene shot in two-strip Technicolor.
After several good aerial scenes, the movie has its most famous one where the boys have volunteered - Hall because he's a hero, Lyon, in a moment of pique, to prove he's no coward - to bomb a German ammo depot in a captured German plane.
If caught in the German plane, they will likely be shot as spies according to the rules of war. The climax, no spoilers coming, takes a few twists, but effectively says character doesn't change in war and war is hell on almost everyone.
The acting by all three leads is sometimes stilted as none of them have yet to fully drop their silent film mannerisms and embrace the more-natural style of the "talkies." Still, Harlow's star qualities show as, when she's in a scene, you can't not watch her.
These "between the war" anti-war movies helped to educate the public to the horrors the men endured fighting. Hell's Angels, as opposed to some, doesn't become sanctimonious as its anti-war hero is a weak man, but there's value in that honesty.
These movies are correct about their anti-war points, but none of them have ever solved for the one unanswerable challenge to the anti-war ideal: how do you stop the Hitlers or Putins of the world without fighting, without war, without having men, and now women, dying?
Hell's Angels is a giant impressive mess of a movie with too many silent film tics, but several incredible aerial combat scenes. Its one most-notable feature, though, is its courage to use a not-likable character to deliver its anti-war message.
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Post by topbilled on Jan 2, 2024 14:20:13 GMT
I have to comment on this statement:
Lyon is not a hero, an intellectual or a formerly gung-ho warrier now denouncing the war - the ploy most anti-war movies take.
I'd say you're correct, many war films/anti-war films are loaded with character cliches. This picture has its share of cliches, but Lyon's character manages to be a bit more original.
One thing I like about HELL'S ANGELS, which I didn't touch upon in my review, is that I think it's a good example of Hughes' masculinity getting splashed across the screen. He had directed a lot of the aviation scenes from his own plane, just a bit peripheral to the main action performed by the stunt flyers. It was probably a passion of his to be up there with the boys having fun and making an epic movie.
For most of the interiors, he selected director James Whale to coach the stars and oversee their dialogue. That is an interesting choice in itself, as Whale was not the most masculine director and he would have either been at odds with Hughes' style of filmmaking or else strangely complemented him.
As for the lead actors, Lyon went on to become a star in Britain with his wife Bebe Daniels, before a stint as a Hollywood producer at 20th Century Fox. Harlow would have a meteoric rise at MGM but was deceased by 1937. Costar James Hall, who helped bring Harlow to Hughes' attention, wrapped up his movie career in 1935 and returned to vaudeville where he started. He was reduced to working in nightclubs by the end and died in 1940 at the age of 39.
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Post by topbilled on Jan 31, 2024 15:14:07 GMT
This neglected film is from 1953.
Ex-boxer learns a lesson about women
Part of the beauty of this classic noir is the sensible and mostly understated performance of its lead actor, John Payne. At this point in his career, Payne was no longer making musicals for Fox; and he was no longer making action adventure pics for the Pine-Thomas unit at Paramount. Those roles were now behind him. He was reinventing himself yet again, this time in crime flicks directed by Phil Karlson. These pictures were financed by indy producer Edward Small and released through United Artists.
Payne is an uncredited writer for some of the film’s dialogue, so he seems to have gained more behind-the-scenes control over this project than with his previous efforts. As such, he is able to provide us with a carefully delineated character, an ex-fighter who’s seen better days. No longer the champ he once was, he is now reduced to driving a taxi around the city; while his shallow wife (Peggie Castle) has her own job at a floral shop that puts her in contact with a thug (Brad Dexter) she’s seeing on the side.
The scenes where Payne learns Castle is— in his words— a tramp, are painful to watch, because he really loved the woman. Suddenly his heart is ripped in half; and he’s not only inconsolable, he’s angry for having been such a fool. When Dexter realizes Castle is a liability in a diamond theft that went wrong, he decides to kill her and pin the blame on Payne. Yes, things go from bad to worse.
Meanwhile, Evelyn Keyes has been introduced in a subplot that eventually puts her into the main action as an actress friend of Payne’s. Keyes has tricked Payne into thinking she killed a man inside a theater and needs his help. But the whole thing is a ruse to ‘audition’ for a part she wanted. Feeling he’s once again been played for a sucker by a dame, Payne swears off any future involvement with the opposite sex.
Of course, Keyes feels guilty about her actions, so she turns down the role she landed in the play and finds Payne to apologize. But now she realizes Payne is not only wanted for assaulting the director of the play, he’s also wanted for killing Castle. Keyes vows to stick by Payne, and to help him, though he is still not sure he needs a woman in his life and could care less if she squares herself with him. Still, there’s something between them.
It’s an unexpected love story. The Payne-Keyes relationship grows while Payne is a wanted man. His goal is to catch Dexter and clear his own name, but Dexter has plans to flee the country on a ship. At the same time, Dexter has double crossed a man (Jay Adler) who fences stolen gems. Adler’s goon (Jack Lambert) has a few scenes getting rough with Payne and Dexter. There is never a shortage of action or intrigue in this well-crafted movie.
The whole thing reaches a dramatic climax at a place called The Harbor Light Cafe, located (where else) at 99 River Street. Keyes has a memorable scene causing a commotion inside the cafe as sexy jazz music plays on the jukebox. While she gyrates with a married man, she moves to latch on to Dexter and pull him outside where Payne can nab him. Dexter just got his hands on a phony passport and is in a hurry to catch the boat, so he doesn’t have time for playful Keyes. But she tries awfully hard to stir his libido.
All the characters eventually battle it out on the pier. Nearly everyone winds up dead except for Payne and Keyes. Naturally! (Since we want a happy ending, right?) The film’s coda lets us know that Payne has now found a good woman in Keyes, they’ve married, and they run a business together. In a lot of these films, a woman gives up her own career to make a home with her new husband. But in this case, given Keyes’ ill-fated attempts to get on Broadway and her actions inside a cafe to seduce a man, it’s probably best she’s settled down.
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Post by topbilled on Feb 7, 2024 15:19:40 GMT
This neglected film is from 1931.
Precode medical drama
Supposedly John Ford enjoyed working with Ronald Colman a lot during the making of this film, and together they achieve some notable results. What a shame they didn’t make any other films together. Typically, Ford was busy at his home studio Fox, while Colman was under contract to producer Samuel Goldwyn. Ford made another picture on loan to Goldwyn later — HURRICANE (1937).
Here Ford seems to understand the small-town picket fences mentality of the main characters. Colman plays the titular doctor who starts as a medical student at a modest college, where he meets a young nurse (Helen Hayes) with not much experience herself. They quickly marry, and responsibilities of providing for a new wife mean that Colman must sacrifice his original plan of pursuing a career in a lab as a scientific doctor. Instead, he goes with Hayes to her small midwestern community and sets up shop as a general practitioner.
Though he does help some of the locals, it is clear (to Colman at least) that he doesn’t really have his heart in being the doctor of a small berg. He feels a need to go back to scientific research, so his wife accommodates him. They pull up stakes and return to academia.
Part of the charm of these early sequences is how the married couple gets on and adjusts to different situations. As Colman’s character becomes more renowned in the field of medical research, he is seen as someone who can once again help people in a remote community.
This eventually leads to him accepting a post in a third-world island country. At first, he doesn’t want to take his wife along with him on the journey, but she insists on joining him. Hayes does a particularly good job showing how a wife earnestly wants to help her husband. She is not a nag or any sort of serious impediment to his career ambitions.
The island sequence reminded me a bit of Maugham’s THE PAINTED VEIL, where a doctor is trying to eradicate a plague. In this case, quite a few people are dying. There’s a heartbreaking scene with a native mother and her baby. Back at their residence, Colman’s personal life is affected by the epidemic when Hayes takes ill. Hayes has a boffo death scene, that surprisingly is not done too over the top. This performance is right on par with Hayes’ Oscar winning work in THE SIN OF MADELON CLAUDET, produced the same year.
After Hayes’ death, Colman leaves the island a broken man. He returns to a good city job working in a lab, but he is still unfulfilled. Also, he feels as if he had wavered from his scientific pursuits on the island. He is a restless soul, and even the possibility of a second wife (Myrna Loy) doesn’t seem to help boost his spirits much. In fact, he ends up rejecting Loy and going off to another small community in Vermont.
When all was said and done, I didn’t feel as if I really understood Colman’s character. Perhaps part of that was how the screenwriter translated him from Sinclair Lewis’ novel. But I just couldn’t decide if he was a modest hero, or else a vain idealist who always seemed to get it wrong. Nonetheless, Colman does a fantastic job, and it is still a motion picture worth seeing.
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Post by Fading Fast on Feb 7, 2024 15:37:18 GMT
Arrowsmith from 1931 with Ronald Colman, Helen Hayes, Clarence Brooks and Myrna Loy
Arrowsmith is based on a big book by Sinclair Lewis. The challenge for making films from big books is how to distill a long and complex story down to a coherent movie of a reasonable length.
Unfortunately, instead of focusing on one or two time periods or one or two themes of the many in the novel, the makers of the movie tried to retain too much of the long and broad sweep of the story.
The resulting movie feels rushed and inconsistent as it speeds through too-many decades and too-many challenges and plot twists in only ninety-nine minutes of screen time.
For all its issues, though, director John Ford, with leads Ronald Colman and Helen Hayes, produced in Arrowsmith an interesting movie that raises several challenging philosophical medical questions.
The picture might not completely work, but it still has a number of engaging and thought-provoking scenes.
Colman plays Arrowsmith, who, when we first meet him, is a promising medical student more interested in research than being "a pill pusher." He's a young idealist doctor.
He then, however, marries a pretty young woman, played by Helen Hayes and puts research aside when he moves with Hayes to a rural community to build a practice, make a home and start a family.
After curing a bacterial outbreak in the local cow population - he's closing in on penicillin - which brings him national fame, Colman and Hayes move to New York City when Colman is offered a job at a distinguished research institute.
A few years later, Colman is sent to the Caribbean to treat, and do research on, a plague outbreak. With Hayes along - she's been the "strong woman" behind the man his entire career - Colman quickly faces a moral medical conundrum.
He has to decide if he is going to conduct a "study" where he only gives serum to half the population to "prove" its effectiveness and advance the long-term benefit to mankind or if he will just treat everyone as the "humane" thing to do.
This always rushed movie climaxes with Colman facing yet another moral conundrum, this one regarding how one does true and honest research. His decision, with the benefit of what we know today, looks idealisticly naive.
Along the way, there are many good "quick hits," as we see Colman battle narrow-minded government bureaucrats, superstitious patients and bosses more interested in publicity and funding than medical research.
It is also uplifting to see one of the great historical moments of scientific advancement as the discovery and refinement of antibiotics truly did improve life for mankind.
Colman and Hayes also go through a series of ups and downs in their relationship as Colman is often frustrated in his career choices, which impacts their marriage.
The usual financial and family challenges also buffet their marriage, including a potential love affair that Colman could have with a socialite played by Myrna Loy. It's an affair that is dramatically toned down from the book.
The cinematography in Arrowsmith is outstanding (and wonderfully restored). For 1931, the beautifully sets, sweeping shots, gorgeous use of shadow and general attention to detail is impressive.
John Ford was still learning his craft, but his ability to shoot epics was already forming, even if he didn't fully pull this one together.
Colman and Hayes, and several other actors, especially Clarence Brooks in a very refreshing-for-the-time not-at-all-stereotypical role as a black doctor, deliver outstanding performances.
Arrowsmith tried to do too much, resulting in a movie that feels rushed and inconsistent, but one that is still impressive, especially for 1931. With engaging performances and a big budget that delivered some spectacular sets and cinematography, Arrowsmith is worth at least one viewing. |
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Post by topbilled on Feb 7, 2024 17:02:52 GMT
Arrowsmith from 1931 with Ronald Colman, Helen Hayes, Clarence Brooks and Myrna Loy
Arrowsmith is based on a big book by Sinclair Lewis. The challenge for making films from big books is how to distill a long and complex story down to a coherent movie of a reasonable length.
Unfortunately, instead of focusing on one or two time periods or one or two themes of the many in the novel, the makers of the movie tried to retain too much of the long and broad sweep of the story.
The resulting movie feels rushed and inconsistent as it speeds through too-many decades and too-many challenges and plot twists in only ninety-nine minutes of screen time.
For all its issues, though, director John Ford, with leads Ronald Colman and Helen Hayes, produced in Arrowsmith an interesting movie that raises several challenging philosophical medical questions.
The picture might not completely work, but it still has a number of engaging and thought-provoking scenes.
Colman plays Arrowsmith, who, when we first meet him, is a promising medical student more interested in research than being "a pill pusher." He's a young idealist doctor.
He then, however, marries a pretty young woman, played by Helen Hayes and puts research aside when he moves with Hayes to a rural community to build a practice, make a home and start a family.
After curing a bacterial outbreak in the local cow population - he's closing in on penicillin - which brings him national fame, Colman and Hayes move to New York City when Colman is offered a job at a distinguished research institute.
A few years later, Colman is sent to the Caribbean to treat, and do research on, a plague outbreak. With Hayes along - she's been the "strong woman" behind the man his entire career - Colman quickly faces a moral medical conundrum.
He has to decide if he is going to conduct a "study" where he only gives serum to half the population to "prove" its effectiveness and advance the long-term benefit to mankind or if he will just treat everyone as the "humane" thing to do.
This always rushed movie climaxes with Colman facing yet another moral conundrum, this one regarding how one does true and honest research. His decision, with the benefit of what we know today, looks idealisticly naive.
Along the way, there are many good "quick hits," as we see Colman battle narrow-minded government bureaucrats, superstitious patients and bosses more interested in publicity and funding than medical research.
It is also uplifting to see one of the great historical moments of scientific advancement as the discovery and refinement of antibiotics truly did improve life for mankind.
Colman and Hayes also go through a series of ups and downs in their relationship as Colman is often frustrated in his career choices, which impacts their marriage.
The usual financial and family challenges also buffet their marriage, including a potential love affair that Colman could have with a socialite played by Myrna Loy. It's an affair that is dramatically toned down from the book.
The cinematography in Arrowsmith is outstanding (and wonderfully restored). For 1931, the beautifully sets, sweeping shots, gorgeous use of shadow and general attention to detail is impressive.
John Ford was still learning his craft, but his ability to shoot epics was already forming, even if he didn't fully pull this one together.
Colman and Hayes, and several other actors, especially Clarence Brooks in a very refreshing-for-the-time not-at-all-stereotypical role as a black doctor, deliver outstanding performances.
Arrowsmith tried to do too much, resulting in a movie that feels rushed and inconsistent, but one that is still impressive, especially for 1931. With engaging performances and a big budget that delivered some spectacular sets and cinematography, Arrowsmith is worth at least one viewing.
Ford's comments years later suggested Colman seldom had to do retakes, that he was a very natural actor who made it look easy. When Hayes was asked about the film later in her career, she claimed some of her character's scenes were cut (because Ford was an alcoholic and made a pact with Goldwyn he'd keep off the sauce during production, so he sped up shooting by eliminating some of Hayes' material, to finish sooner so he could take a drink!). If all the scenes were shot that were contained in the original screenplay, it likely would have gone over two hours and might have seemed a more thorough rendering of Lewis' source material.
I am not sure I'd say Ford was still learning how to tell epic stories. He had been directing pictures since 1917, and one of his silent films from the mid-1920s is a classic western epic that clocks in at 150 minutes: THE IRON HORSE (1924). Again, I think he took a few shortcuts making ARROWSMITH because of his problems with booze. |
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