THE TWO MRS. CARROLLS

Bogart and Stanwyck in their only film together

THE TWO MRS. CARROLLS (1947). Director: Peter Godfrey.

"Would you like something, officers? A glass of milk perhaps?" 

Sally (Barbara Stanwyck) meets and falls in love with troubled artist Geoffrey Carroll (Humphrey Bogart), then learns he has a wife. Said wife conveniently dies, and Sally and Geoff are married, the two of them residing in Sally's palatial estate along with Geoff's very self-assured little girl, Beatrice (Ann Carter). Then along comes super-sexy Cecily Latham (Alexis Smith), who wants Geoff to paint her portrait and won't take no for an answer. Before long Sally is getting suspicious, especially when she learns that Geoff's first wife wasn't an invalid as he claimed, and that she's developing similar symptoms to what the first Mrs. Carroll had before she died ... 

Based on a stage play, The Two Mrs. Carrolls is a poor man's Suspicion, which was released six years earlier. There's even some business with a glass of milk. At least this is somewhat superior to the next thriller Stanwyck did with director Peter Godfrey, Cry Wolf with Errol Flynn, and the acting is quite good. Stanwyck is better at getting across the vulnerability and terror of the heroine than you might expect (although she does seem to summon up her bravery at the climax rather suddenly), Bogart is fine in all but his most challenging scenes, little Ann Carter proves a superlative child actress in her portrayal of the highly interesting and mature Beatrice, and gorgeous Smith has wicked fun as the slinky and self-absorbed Cecily, with Isobel Elsom scoring as her mother and Nigel Bruce as -- what else? -- a doctor. Anita Bolster is a riot as the saturnine housekeeper, Christine. Crackling good dialogue from Thomas Job (from Martin Vale's play) and a fine Franz Waxman score help a great deal. The last line provides a little wink at the audience. Bogart and Stanwyck play quite well together.

Verdict: No Suspicion, but fun nevertheless. **1/2.

I COULD GO ON SINGING

Garland sings with the school boys

I COULD GO ON SINGING (1963). Director: Ronald Neame.

"I've held on to every bit of rubbish in life, and thrown all the good bits away."

"Alone. It's an awful word. And I know what it means."

Jenny Bowman (Judy Garland) had a child with lover David Donne (Dirk Bogarde) years before, but wouldn't give up her singing career to marry him or care for their child. Now she's a big success doing a tour in London, Donne is also a successful doctor, and their son is a charming young lad, Matt (Gregory Phillips) in boarding school. Once she meets Matt, Jenny realizes she wants the boy to be part of her life on a permanent basis, but is that the best thing for the boy and is it possible for David to forget -- and forgive -- the past? 

Garland's final film is clearly fashioned for her talents -- at times you get the distinct impression she's only playing a variation of herself (although playing it well) --  and she comes through with flying colors, and Bogarde is also excellent; the two play marvelously together. They get fine support from Phillips as the boy and Jack Klugman as Jenny's manager. One could quibble that this is primarily a showcase for Garland's singing talents, and that the characters and storyline could use a lot more fleshing out, but the film boasts beautiful widescreen photography and handsome production values to go with the first-rate performances. As for Garland's singing, this film probably illustrates why her fans found her legendary even when she was near the end of her life. Her performances of the title tune, "All By Myself," and especially "It Never Was You" and "Hello, Bluebird, Hello" make it clear that the gal was one hell of a gifted singer with strong interpretive skills to say the least. A very charming scene has Garland at the piano singing along with the British schoolboys, including her son, who have just given a performance of "H.M.S. Pinafore." Some of Garland's dialogue sounds like snippets from her own life.  This film presents the Garland mystique far better than End of the Rainbow. This was Garland's last movie.

Verdict: A fitting filmic swan song for Judy Garland. ***.  

THE LETTER (1929)

Jeanne Eagels is obsessed with Herbert Marshall

THE LETTER (1929). Director: Jean de Limur. Screenplay by Somerset Maugham, from his story.

"Your whole life is wrapped up in rubber!"

In this early sound film, the famous Jeanne Eagels plays the role later essayed by Bette Davis, the bored wife on the rubber plantation who shoots her lover again and again when he tries to leave her. Although not as good as William Wyler's remake, this is a creditable and interesting picture, with good performances. Eagels perhaps underplays too much in her courtroom scene, but she gets better, and certainly works herself up into an impressive lather when she finally tells her husband (Reginald Owen) what she really thinks of him. Herbert Marshall played the husband in the remake, but in this he's the lover, who has a good scene at the opening (which is not recreated in the Wyler version). Lady Tsen Mei plays Li Ti, the role essayed by Gale Sondergaard in the remake, and O. P. Heggie is the lawyer. The production code not being in place in 1929, this picture has a less, shall we say, conclusive ending. The whole story is a twisted anti-romance. Kim Novak played the actress in the terrible biopic Jeanne Eagels.

Verdict: A great opportunity to see the famous Eagels on film. ***.

JEANNE EAGELS

JEANNE EAGELS (1957). Director: George Sidney.

This lamentable biopic purports to be the life story of famous stage and screen actress Jeanne Eagels, but it comes off more like a travesty, almost a parody, of movie star biographies. Part of the problem is the casting and atrocious performance of Kim Novak, who has been seen to much better advantage in such movies as Vertigo and Middle of the Night. Apparently given no help at all in shaping her role by director George Sidney, Novak -- who does have a (very) few good moments -- portrays Eagels by lowering her voice an octave and developing an imperious manner and never seeming remotely human -- in fact at times she's more grotesque than anything else. She confuses over-acting with "Great Acting" and even has trouble with simple line readings. Although there was certainly enough drama in the real  Eagels's life, with two marriages, a drug problem, and death at 39, Jeanne Eagels needs to make up even more slanderous stuff (her family filed a law suit, but you can't libel the dead in the U.S.). In the movie an invented alcoholic actress named Elsie Desmond (a creditable Virginia Grey) brings Eagels the script for the play "Rain," hoping the latter will interest a producer in mounting the play as a comeback for her. Instead, Eagels steals the play away from Desmond, who then commits suicide. Eagels is seen as being similarly ruthless in other sequences as well. 

Agnes Moorehead with Novak

The two men in her life, one of whom she briefly marries, are portrayed by Jeff Chandler (who basically gives a good accounting of himself) and Charles Drake, who is okay as her husband. As Eagels' stern if loving acting coach, Agnes Moorehead gives a competent performance but at times seems affected by the movie's sheer badness. Murray Hamilton does his typical sleazy, oily, repulsive shtick as a vaudeville performer who tries to rape Jeanne. The movie mixes facts with fantasy, such as when Eagels is suspended from the stage for several months by Actors Equity (true) and has her running to vaudeville when she actually went to Hollywood to make (mostly silent) movies (one of which is inexplicably shown at the end of Jeanne Eagels, only it's a musical!). In actuality, Eagels had a triumph in the first sound version of The Letter, and was posthumously nominated for an Oscar, but this, incredibly, is never mentioned, even though it would have added up to an effective and bittersweet conclusion. Drake and Grey played a married couple in All That Heaven Allows and George Sidney also directed Bye Bye Birdie, for which he was more suited.

Verdict: Eagels certainly deserved better than this miserable schlock. *1/2.

MASSACRE RIVER

Guy Madison

MASSACRE RIVER (1949). Director: John Rawlins. Colorized. 

On a fort in disputed territories in the old west, Phil (Rory Calhoun) is rejected when he proposes to Kitty (Cathy Downs of Missile to the Moon), the colonel's (Art Baker) daughter. Phil takes it surprisingly well when she gets engaged to his best buddy, Larry (Guy Madison of Hilda Crane), not much later. Complications arise in the nearby town of Jackson when Larry falls for the co-owner of the Blue Star saloon, Laura (Carole Mathews of Betrayed Women), after she ministers to the colonel's son, Randy (Johnny Sands), when he is shot by Indians. Before long Larry is caught in a triangle situation: will he marry the colonel's daughter and make advancements in the army, or decide that his future is with a woman who is more like him? His friendship with Phil will certainly be put to the test by further dark developments. 

Rory Calhoun

One could easily say that Massacre River takes advantage of well-worn tropes and cliches in its story, but somehow that doesn't matter. There are beautiful widescreen vistas of western landscapes, courtesy of Jack MacKenzie, a stirring score by John Leipold and Lucien Moraweck, and a fast-paced, engrossing ambiance throughout. Though one wouldn't necessarily argue that the two handsome male leads are acting geniuses, they acquit themselves nicely, as do the ladies. Johnny Sands is appealing as Randy, but had only a few credits. An especially lovely scene has Laura waving at Larry from a window, disappointed that he doesn't wave back from the street below, but then happy again when he finally does wave as he rides off on his horse. As usual, the Indians in this -- on again/off again antagonists -- are mere backdrop for the white players and not even the chief gets much of a back story. John Rawlins directed a wide variety of movies, including Arabian Nights with Maria Montez.  

Verdict: Very entertaining western melodrama-romance. ***. 

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO (1965). Director: David Lean.

"What happens to a girl like that when a man like you has finished with her?"

It is the 61st anniversary of the release of this epic film by David Lean, based on the novel by Boris Pasternak.

At the beginning we learn that the two main protagonists, Yuri Zhivago (Omar Sharif), a doctor and poet, and Lara (Julie Christie), whose boyfriend is a revolutionary, have had a child. As the film progresses the two are married to other people, so you wonder for quite a while how the couple are ultimately going to get together. Their love story is set upon the background of WW 1 and the Russian revolution and all the chaos that ensued during and afterward.

As an epic, the film is quite effective with some memorable scenes: the dragoons charging on horseback and attacking the marching band of revolutionaries; an officer lecturing to tired, disgusted soldiers who falls into a barrel of water and then is shot dead in an instant; most of all the long, detailed journey that Yuri takes with his family to the country by railroad, dozens crowded into each car that buckle and sway as if any moment they'll fall to pieces.

Omar Sharif and Julie Christie

As a romantic drama, be forewarned that David Lean is no William Wyler, but perhaps the main problem is Maurice Jarre's muscial score. Jarre layers the soundtrack with attractive music (although Lara's theme wears out its welcome pretty quickly) but it doesn't embellish and compliment the emotions of the characters or what's going on on-screen like a score by, say, Max Steiner. Hence, despite all the grim and indeed heart-breaking stuff going on, you may never be especially moved by the proceedings.

The movie is over 3 hours long -- the DVD released on the 45th anniversary has the complete film, which is shown in letterbox format, thank goodness -- but it is never boring because Lean, whatever his deficiencies, keeps things moving, and the plot and characters are always interesting. Of course, like other long films, undoubtedly a lot of important stuff got left on the cutting room floor -- for instance, the scene wherein Yuri's wife and mistress finally meet is only referred to in dialogue [!] -- so the film at times seems a trifle disjointed. It helps to know Russian history to understand fully what's happening, and you may find yourself checking the novel out of the library to fill in some missing details.

Sharif in a contemplative moment

Omar Sharif may never have been considered a great actor, but he's effective enough in the title role, and has a particularly good scene when he looks in the mirror after a harrowing journey and realizes to his horror how much he's aged. Julie Christie is also good -- although neither performer compares to the greats of the golden age. The best acting comes from Ralph Richardson as Alexander, Yuri's father surrogate (and father-in-law); Rod Steiger as the ferocious Victor Komarovsky; and Tom Courtenay as Lara's husband. There is also fine work from Geraldine Chaplin as Yuri's wife; Rita Tushingham as his probable daughter; Alex Guinness as his half-brother; and Klaus Kinski as a mad man on the train. Omar Sharif's young son Tarek plays Yuri as a boy and does it well-- what a great face! Petya, Alexander's servant, is played by Jack MacGowran, who appeared in everything from The Giant Behemoth to The Exorcist. All in all, whatever its flaws, Doctor Zhivago is a very interesting picture. The hard work that went into the film is obvious.

Verdict: Worthwhile historical drama with frustrated romance at its heart. ***

BEDELIA

Margaret Lockwood

BEDELIA (1946). Director: Lance Comfort. 

Bedelia and Charlie Carrington (Margaret Lockwood of The Wicked Lady and Ian Hunter of The Girl from 10th Avenue) are on their honeymoon in Monte Carlo when they encounter the artist Ben Chaney (Barry K. Barnes) and they all become friends. Charlie hires Ben to do a portrait of Bedelia, which she objects to, complaining of headaches when she's forced to pose. Ben seems to have a too-intense interest in the pretty woman, and follows the couple to Charlie's home town where the artist is set up in a studio. Ben's mere presence makes Bedelia nervous, and suspicion of the man is also ignited in Ellen (Anne Crawford of They Were Sisters), Charlie's business partner. But is Bedelia keeping secrets herself? 

Ian Hunter with Lockwood

Bedelia is based on a novel by American writer Vera ("Laura") Casbury. The story originally took place in Connecticut but was moved to England for this British production, with the time period updated from shortly after the turn to the century to a contemporary period. Casbury felt that this compromised her theme of the changing gender roles of the time. Whatever the case, Bedelia is a well-acted and very suspenseful story with a darkly fascinating heroine and very interesting supporting characters. Others in the cast include Jill Esmond as Nurse Harris, called in when Charlie suffers food poisoning, Beatrice Varley of Hatter's Castle as the maid Mary, and Barbara Blair as the chatty party guest, Sylvia. Barnes and Lockwood also appeared together in The Girl in the News. 

Verdict: Intriguing British suspense flick. ***. 

THE REVOLT OF MAMIE STOVER

Jane Russell and Richard Egan

THE REVOLT OF MAMIE STOVER (1956). Director: Raoul Walsh. 

"When you talk about money you're slumming. When I talk about it, I'm just plain scared." -- Mamie. 

Mamie Stover, originally from a small town in Nebraska, is put on a steamer to Honolulu by the authorities in San Francisco and told never to return. Although Mamie has never been convicted of anything (or so she says), she apparently has some kind of unsavory and criminal history. On the ship she meets up with handsome author Jim Blair (Richard Egan of A Summer Place), who doesn't waste much time before making passes which are happily received by the initially distrustful Mamie. When the boat docks Mamie learns that her new swain apparently has a steady girl in Annalee (Joan Leslie), a much more respectable female. Not at all bashful in any sense of the word, Mamie asks if she can move in to Jim's beautiful Hilltop estate, but he says no, loaning her one hundred bucks instead. Mamie goes to work at a somewhat sleazy establishment run by Bertha (Agnes Moorehead), who employs the sadistic Adkins (Michael Pate of Curse of the Undead) to keep the girls in line --  with his fists if necessary. Despite whatever reservations he might have -- and in spite of Annalee -- Jim can't help dropping into the nightclub where Mamie has become a top headliner. But she has been told not to fraternize with men outside the club, a rule she gleefully breaks to be with Jim. Surprisingly well-paid at the club, Mamie is saving her money and intends to have her own hilltop estate someday. Then the attack on Pearl Harbor occurs, and Mamie hits on a way to enrich her coffers ... 

Russell with Agnes Moorehead

The entertaining Revolt of Mamie Stover is typical of movies in the fifties that feature decided "bad girls" but make certain not to delineate their alleged misdeeds with too much scrutiny. Scenes that made it clear that Mamie was a hooker were cut from the film. Born into comparative poverty, Mamie -- like the heroine of Bedelia -- is determined to rise from the gutter by any means she can, although one senses that Miss Stover is not really evil, just mercenary and a little desperate. The hard-edged Russell is perfect for the role of Mamie, and she gives a snappy performance. Although he has a couple of wooden moments, Egan is basically fine as Jim. Pate and Moorehead score, as expected, in the two major supporting roles, but Joan Leslie has the thankless part -- and very little screen time -- as Annalee. Richard Coogan of Vice Raid is given the opportunity to make an impression and does so as Captain Eldon Sumac, a married officer who tries his best to score with Mamie. Marilyn Monroe and Lana Turner were both considered for the role of Mamie -- the former would have brought more vulnerability to the role -- but passed on it. A good score by Hugo Friedhofer and top-notch cinematography from Leo Tover certainly help. Leon Lontoc, who plays Jim's servant and supposed friend, Aki, later wound up on Burke's Law in a similar role. Jean Willes, Margia Dean and Hugh Beaumont also appear in smaller parts. 

Verdict: If you take this flick with a grain of salt -- it's watered down and is sometimes quite improbable -- it is absorbing and fun. ***

SUSPENDED ALIBI

Naomi Chance and Patrick Holt

SUSPENDED ALIBI (1957). Director: Alfred Shaughnessy. 

Editor Paul Pearson (Patrick Holt of The Unholy Four) has been playing around with a fashion writer, Diana (Naomi Chance of Wings of Danger), despite his having a loving wife, Lynn (Honor Blackman), and young son, Bobby (Toby Winterbottom). He is trying to call it off with Diana, and uses a buddy, Bill (Bryan Coleman) as a beard. Unfortunately Bill is stabbed to death and Paul becomes a suspect. He tells the police he spent most of his time away from home with Diana, but when questioned she refuses to give him an alibi. Just in case she might change her mind, the real killer pays a call on Diana ... and then Paul is really in trouble.  

Patrick Holt and Honor Blackman

In some ways Suspended Alibi plays like something made twenty years earlier. The characters are not developed very well, and there are no scenes where the impossibly understanding wife has a strong confrontation with her adulterous husband -- he seems to get a free pass. There is a little suspense at the end as the police rush to apprehend the killer, but otherwise the film is watchable but has little tension. Another murder scene in which someone gets thrown out of a window is laughably muffed. Others in the cast include Andrew Keir as a reporter-friend of Paul's; Valentine Dyall as Inspector Kayes; and Lloyd Lamble as the neighbor Waller. 

Verdict: Distinctly minor-league British mystery that could have been developed into something much more worthwhile. **1/4. 

I'LL CRY TOMORROW

I'LL CRY TOMORROW (1955). Director: Daniel Mann.

The more or less true story of singer Lillian Roth (Susan Hayward) and her battle with alcoholism. Although Hayward has a couple of self-conscious moments, basically she gives a very strong performance as this tormented woman who lost the first man (Ray Danton) she loved to illness and an early death, married a heavy-drinking gigolo and party boy (Don Taylor), then -- worst of all-- got hitched to a wife-beating thug played by Richard Conte (pictured). Virginia Gregg and Veda Ann Borg show up in much smaller roles. Carole Ann Campbell is excellent as Roth as a young girl, but the movie is basically stolen by Jo Van Fleet, who is simply superb as Lillian's mother. Hayward sings her own numbers, and isn't bad, although one can't imagine she would have been as successful a singer as she was an actress. Reviews of the film have noted that the atmosphere is more of the fifties when it was made than the period during which most of the story takes place. There is a nice score by Alex North. 

Verdict: Watch Susan Suffer! ***.