TOM JONES

TOM JONES (1963) Director: Tony Richardson.

Based on the novel by Henry Fielding, this is the story of Tom Jones, an alleged “bastard” who cares little for religious studies and a great deal for romps with the opposite sex. He has a series of amusing and even harrowing adventures which nearly lead him to the gallows. At times this comes across like a mere sex farce, and some of the “techniques” Richardson employs – such as fast-motion and dialogue cards for silent sequences – don't really work that well. Albert Finney is really too old for the part but rises above this and turns in an excellent performance as Tom. The picture is bolstered by a host of fine British character actors including Joan Greenwood and Hugh Griffith. Look for Jack MacGowran from The Giant Behemoth (he was the nervous museum director) and The Exorcist (he played the director who dies) in a nice bit as Partridge, the man assumed to be Jones' father. [Thinking he's his long-lost father, Jones, sitting on a horse, lifts him up and off his feet and gives him a big kiss on the mouth!] Some of the “big” sequences – a massive "cat fight" between pious ladies and the town trollops; Jones and company riding the hounds – are a bit disappointing, but the famous eating scene is still highly entertaining. In this Finney and one of his conquests sit at a table and eat a huge, lip-smacking feast in what can only be described as an extremely lascivious manner. Very popular in its day – it also won an Oscar for best Picture -- this remains a good, entertaining movie if not a truly great one.

Verdict: Very good comedy. ***.

DR. NO

DR. NO (1962). Director: Terence Young.

The film that introduced James Bond 007 to moviegoers is not a classic, but it does hold the attention and establish the filmic counterpart to Ian Fleming's literary creation. The black comedy quips came from the screenwriter, not Fleming, whose Bond was a bit more dimensional than he has ever been in the movies [although Timothy Dalton, and then Daniel Craig, perhaps came closest]. In this Bond is up against the sinister part-Chinese mastermind Dr. No (an excellent Joseph Wiseman), who takes control of missiles on behalf of SPECTRE. In the novel his front was a guano operation, but the filmmakers decided to – if you'll pardon the expression -- drop the s--t and make a few other changes. Gone are the broken nose on Honeychile Ryder (a probably dubbed Ursula Andress, looking luscious), the three-inch scar on Bond's cheek, and the giant squid that nearly makes a meal out of 007 at the end of the novel. Instead of running Dr. No's survival test tunnel as in the book, Bond simply crawls through an access tube to escape. The tarantula that nearly bites Bond when he's in bed is relatively harmless; Fleming used a much more deadly giant centipede instead. Some nice scenery and scenic design helps, but this is nowhere as good as the book. Still, it led to a great many more Bond films, some of which were excellent.

Verdict: Fun if you're in the mood. **1/2.

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IN THIS OUR LIFE

IN THIS OUR LIFE (1942). Director: John Huston.

Due to the participation of a flamboyant Bette Davis, not to mention that it was said to bowdlerize the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel it was based on (by the now-forgotten Ellen Glascow), this film has always been seen as a soap opera when it is really an outstanding drama. On the surface it is a study of two sisters – one good, one bad – and how the bad sister's selfish actions impact upon everyone else around her. Below the surface it is a trenchant study of compassion and personal accountability versus utterly self-centered venality. Stanley (Davis) and Roy (Olivia de Havilland) are the masculine-named daughters of a sensitive man (Frank Craven) who has basically been thrown out of his own business and turned into a mere employee by his own brother-in-law (Charles Coburn). Stanley, who takes after her Uncle William (Coburn), runs off with her sister's husband (Dennis Morgan), practically destroying her sister's faith in love. Nevertheless, Roy tries to start anew with Stanley's cast-off fiancee, a lawyer played by George Brent. Later a tipsy Stanley runs over a mother and young daughter, killing the latter, and flees the scene. Instead of confessing, she blames the accident on Parry (Ernest Anderson), the son of the family housekeeper (Hattie McDaniel). It ends in a somewhat melodramatic but satisfying fashion, and along the way there are some very powerful and lovely sequences. Howard Koch's screenplay is quite good, with dialogue that shows much insight into the human condition. [After Stanley runs away, a distraught Uncle William cries “After all I've done for that girl – after all I've done!” to which her father replies “It doesn't make much difference when a person wants something else.”] The movie is always on the verge of exploding.

In This Our Life was the first major Hollywood film to present an upwardly-mobile and highly positive black character. Parry is studying to be a lawyer. He talks frankly of how there aren't many opportunities for a man of his race. The sad irony is that despite his excellent performance in In This Our Life, Anderson's subsequent film appearances had him playing bit parts as porters and servants. Many years later he appeared with Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? He plays the vendor who gives Baby Jane an ice cream cone on the beach near the end of the film. Both films were photographed by Ernest Haller. When the George Brent character neglects his legal practice due to being dumped by Davis, de Havilland reminds him that he already has everything that Parry is struggling for.

In This Our Life has slowly gained the admiration of modern-day critics who have finally seen that it is much more than just a “Bette Davis Melodrama.” Much of the screen time, of course, is thrown to Davis, who is occasionally much too overwrought and pop-eyed – but always riveting. She is at her best in her scenes with Charles Coburn, who clearly fancies her in a much more than Uncle-like fashion. There are two very memorable scenes between the two in Uncle William's parlor. First, she “flirts” with him as he confesses his loneliness and asks her to come and live with him; then she confronts him after fleeing from the police and he tells her that he's dying. “You've lived your life,” she tells him, “but what about me?”

Olivia de Havilland gives one of her nicest performances in this film. So does George Brent, who initially seems miscast. The scenes with these two wounded souls are enriched by a lovely waltz love theme courtesy of Max Steiner. There are times, however, when Steiner matches Davis' hysterical histrionics note for note, and these fortunately brief moments lower the whole tone of the picture (otherwise it's a fine score). Frank Craven is exceptional as the father, Asa, and Billie Burke gives a well-crafted dramatic performance as the hypochondriacal and foolish mother. Hattie McDaniel and Lee Patrick are also right on the money, as usual. The weakest performance comes from song-and-dance man Dennis Morgan, but he gets an A for effort. This was only John Huston's second film after The Maltese Falcon. He directs in the same very brisk style, which may not be appropriate for the subject matter but certainly keeps the picture humming.

Verdict: In This Our Life is a near-masterpiece. ***1/2.

THE ONION FIELD

THE ONION FIELD (1979). Director: Harold Becker

In 1963 hoods Gregory Powell (James Woods) and Jimmy Smith (Franklin Seales) are stopped by cops James Campbell (Ted Danson) and Karl Hettinger (John Savage) but the hoods turn the tables and drive the policemen to an onion field. There Powell kills Campbell, but Hettinger manages to escape. [Hettinger turned over his gun after Powell threatened to shoot Campbell, but one cop theorizes that "only a coward lets a punk get his gun away from him."] The rest of the film details the trial, the emotional aftermath for Hettinger, and so on, but there are too many under-developed characters and except for the moving final scene the film keeps the viewer at a emotional distance. This is not only due to Joseph Wambaugh's unsatisfactory script (based on his book), but Harold Becker's perfunctory direction, and actors who are good but never seem to quite get a handle on their characters. The one exception is Franklin Seales, who is very vivid as the confused, frightened Jimmy. The picture holds the attention at first but meanders and goes into too many different directions without resolution.

Verdict: Disappointing, but some good acting. **1/2.

DESIRE IN THE DUST

DESIRE IN THE DUST (1960). Director: William F. Claxton.

Lonnie Wilson (Ken Scott) gets out of prison after six years and comes home to find out the woman who promised to wait for him -- for a very good reason -- Melinda Marquand (Martha Hyer), has gotten married in the meantime. That doesn't stop her from fooling around with Wilson (see photo), but the latter tells her husband (Brett Halsey) what she's up to when he finds out about the marriage, and Melinda suddenly cries "Rape!" Then there's Melinda's father, Colonel Ben (Raymond Burr) who wants to run for governor, and her mother (Joan Bennett) who became unhinged after her little boy David was supposedly run over by Lonnie and thinks the child is still alive. And why does Melinda call her father by his first name? Hints of incest, anyone?

This is example of what happens when much less talented people try to take on a kind of Tennessee Williams "twisted" Southern family plot but lack the great playwright's brilliance, sensitivity and poetic feeling. With a better script, better acting and certainly better direction, Desire in the Dust might have amounted to some powerful stuff, but it wears out its welcome long before the not-so-melodramatic wind-up. When it comes to playing overbearing patriarchs, Raymond Burr proves no Burl Ives, and Joan Bennett doesn't seem at all sure of what she's doing. Ken Scott is beefy and sexy enough for the role of Lonnie, but while he isn't bad, he generally seems too reigned in throughout the movie. There are some effective enough character turns but the two actors who make the most impression are Douglas Fowley as Lonnie's aged father, and -- surprise -- Martha Hyer as the lamentable, slutty Melinda.

Verdict: Not half as entertaining as Claxton's giant killer bunny rabbit movie Night of the Lepus. **.

MAD LOVE

MAD LOVE (1935). Director: Karl Freund.

One of the most fascinating horror films ever made, this features a superb performance by Peter Lorre as brilliant surgeon Dr. Gogol, who is tormented by his unrequited obsession with a beautiful actress,Yvonne Orlac (Frances Drake). Gogol buys a life-like statue of Yvonne from a wax musem and sets it up in his living room. When her husband, a great concert pianist named Stephen Orlac, has his hands hopelessly mangled in a train wreck, Gogol operates but tells no one that he has replaced Orlac's hands with the hands of a murderer, a knife thrower, who was recently guillotined. The hands take on a life of their own, as Gogol plots to remove Orlac from the scene so that Yvonne will belong to him alone. Lorre's portrait of what seems like a decent man (in contrast to Orloc's hateful step-father, who comes off as a real monster) driven to insane, evil acts by a torturous and maddening infatuation, holds the film together despite the bizarre moments and disruptive comedy relief of a nervous reporter. Fine script (various writers), vivid direction, very atmospheric photography (Gregg Toland, Chester Lyons), impressive art direction (Cedric Gibbons), a fast pace and not a dull moment.

Verdict: Great. They don't make 'em like this anymore. ***1/2.

THE CITADEL

THE CITADEL. (1938) Director: King Vidor.

A doctor tries to do the noble, idealistic thing and help his patients -- poor coal miners who have developed tuberculosis from dust in the mines, among others -- but when his efforts are angrily rejected (to put it mildly) he eventually settles for ministering to wealthy, neurotic hypochondriacs until a tragedy sets him back on course. A glossy, professional, well-acted, workmanlike effort that gets across the basic ideas of the original novel by A.J. Cronin, but to 21st century eyes presents a somewhat artificial elucidation of its theme. It ends on a rather abrupt note after an excellent closing speech by Donat. King Vidor's direction is solid, Donat is strong, Russell, fortunately, more subdued than usual -- it's all just a little pat and superficial. Still, there are some very well-handled scenes, such as when Donat saves a baby's life, and breezily and dismissively chit chats with a kindly restaurant owner who is trying desperately to interest him in the illness of her beloved daughter.

Verdict: Not great but not without interest. **1/2.

SABOTEUR

SABOTEUR (1942). Director: Alfred Hitchcock.

It's just possible that this wonderful movie might have become a classic if Hitchcock had gotten the two leads he really wanted – Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck – instead of Robert Cummings and Priscilla Lane. While some might feel the dynamic Stanwyck would have been wasted in this movie, she would have added far more bite and intensity than the competent but mediocre Lane. Bob Cummings was certainly a skilled comedic actor (some think Cummings could also turn in fine dramatic performances in such films as Kings Row), but he's all wrong for Saboteur. Michael Curtiz once said “some men squeeze a line to death” and Cummings not only does that but rushes mush-mouthed through his readings to such a degree that the effect is not stirring or powerful as he might have intended but ludicrous. Apparently Hitch just threw up his hands and bristled at having to use these two utter lightweights in a movie that deserved so much better. Cummings is falsely accused of sabotage at a defense plant and also of incinerating his best friend by putting gasoline inside a fire extinguisher. [Cummings carries little of the resonance of this throughout the rest of the movie.] The real culprit is Norman Lloyd (who is excellent), whom Cummings – with an initially unwilling Lane in tow – pursues across the country. There are scenes which give one pause – how can a man in handcuffs manage to swim, for instance – but also some fine moments and interesting settings, such as the dusty, deserted Soda City where they encounter some of the nest of spies in an eerie moment or two. Hitch works up a lot of suspense for the scene in which Cummings gets rid of said handcuffs with a car's fan belt, and the Statue of Liberty finale is superb. Giant close ups of Norman Lloyd's jacket sleeve – held by Cummings, who wants to save the man so that he can clear him -- beginning to tear are contrasted with stunning long shots of the two men clinging horrifically to the outside of the statue. Hitchcock always said that it should have been Cummings dangling (or falling?) from the statue, not the villain, but the sequence is breath-taking all the same. An inspired touch is having the saboteurs operating in the midst of a respectable charity ball, and they are presented as being for the most part quite ordinary and mundane, with the exception of the flamboyant Mrs. Sutton and the sinister fifth columnist leader, very well-played by, respectively, Alma Kruger and Otto Kruger (no relation). Frank Skinner's opening credits music is very effective and right on the money. The strangest moment: Priscilla Lane actually pays for a milkshake brought to her by one of her captors. Talk about adding insult to injury!

Verdict: Not what it could have been but still some knock-out sequences. ***.

NIGHT MUST FALL (1932)

NIGHT MUST FALL (1937). Director: Richard Thorpe.

This first film version of Emlym Williams' play certainly holds the attention and has a very interesting story, but it requires the genius of a Hitchcock to make it really come alive and the pedestrian director Richard Thorpe was never on that level. Robert Montgomery is generally excellent as Danny, who enters the household of the prickly, unlikable old lady (Dame May Whitty) when he becomes romantically entangled with one of her housemaids. Danny is intelligent enough to know exactly how to play the woman, but he can't quite fool the poor relation (Rosalind Russell) who also lives in the house and works for the old woman. Unfortunately, Russell isn't entirely immune to Danny's charm, and slowly begins to fall for him even as she becomes more convinced that he's responsible for a gruesome murder in the neighborhood. Russell isn't really up to the task of exploring all the psychological ramifications of her character, but Whitty is simply superb as the old woman. While most of the film isn't remotely scary and has little atmosphere, the scene when she's left alone in the house is quite eerie and well done, and her subsequent encounter with Montgomery is extremely effective and well-acted. What a shame that this assignment wasn't given to the Master of Suspense – Hitch would have turned this into a nail-biting and psychologically penetrating classic.

Verdict: No classic, but has its moments. **1/2.

VIGIL IN THE NIGHT

VIGIL IN THE NIGHT (1940). Director: George Stevens.

What A. J. Cronin did for doctors in “The Citadel” he apparently did for the nursing profession in his novel “Vigil in the Night,” of which this is an adaptation. Carol Lombard is fine as a dedicated nurse who covers for her immature sister when the latter's negligence leads to the death of a little boy. That sequence sets the very somber tone for this movie, which follows Lombard on her adventures working for an understaffed facility in London, which is ill-equipped to deal with a smallpox epidemic. If one picks apart the plot and script there are all kinds of things that will give one pause, but the movie works perfectly on an emotional level and will be, for some, a five hankie weeper. George Stevens' direction is adroit, and the supporting cast boasts the likes of Brian Aherne as a doctor, a fine Peter Cushing as Lombard's brother-in-law (and former boyfriend), and especially the always-wonderful Ethel Griffies as the peppery woman who heads the nursing staff. Alfred Newman's sensitive scoring also adds immeasurably to the success of the production (although some may find it too intrusive). TCM shows two endings to the film: one was for audiences in Europe, and one for audiences in the United States, downplaying the war overseas. Ironically, the United States soon became embroiled in the European conflict, and Lombard was killed not much later when her plane was shot down during a war bonds tour.

Verdict: four-hankie weepie with fine acting. ***.

FOREVER AMBER

FOREVER AMBER (1947). Director: Otto Preminger.

A foundling raised in a stifling puritan home sets out for the big city and adventure and determines to make something out of herself so that she can be worthy of the love of the nobleman (Cornel Wilde) she's fallen for heart, body and soul – she eventually winds up the lover of King Charles II (George Sanders). Linda Darnell is not at all bad in the part but she offers her trademark hard-bitten edge (which served her well in other roles) instead of the ferocious Bette Davis/Joan Crawford/Vivien Leigh intensity that is required for the role of Amber. Richard Haydn scores in a role more dynamic than what we're used to seeing from this actor, as Amber's husband, the Count of Radcliffe. Wilde is fine, and Sanders is his usual wry, competent self although he seems a bit disinterested in the material. This can certainly be said of Preminger, who directs as if he would rather be doing anything else. Whatever energy the film has is derived from David Raksin's interesting score, although most of its power is derived from the orchestrations, which were done by others. The film's most memorable sequence (one which Preminger must have been awake for) has an old lady nurse trying to strangle a deathly ill Wilde so that she can steal his watch; this culminates in a rousing cat-fight between Darnell and the feisty old woman, who winds up strangled to death by her younger adversary. If the whole picture, entertaining as it is, had been on this level, it might have amounted to something more than a mildly interesting time passer.

Verdict: Proceed at your own risk. **1/2.

ANNA AND THE KING OF SIAM

ANNA AND THE KING OF SIAM (1946). Director: John Cromwell.

This features wonderful performances by Irene Dunne as Anna; Rex Harrison as the King (once you get used to him); Gale Sondergaard as the first wife; Lee J. Cobb as the King's second-in-command; and Linda Darnell as the first concubine, Lady Tuptim, who is a bit of a bitch. She has her own slave, whom she (at first) refuses to set free. Tuptim and her (apparently “sin”-free) “lover” are burned at the stake in a more graphic treatment than in “The King and I.” One wonders: How can Anna teach the wives English if she can't speak Siamese? The very moving conclusion shows the son of the dead king telling the slaves to stand upright instead of kneeling. In this original version, the king dies many years after the main storyline ends and is much older than in the musical. An odd note is that Anna's young son is killed riding a horse, which apparently did not occur in the book nor in real life! Dunne's reaction to this tragedy is perhaps not quite strong enough. Bernard Herrmann's score has some lovely touches.

Verdict: Certainly worth a look. ***.

ROPE

ROPE (1948). Director: Alfred Hitchcock.

Two young men strangle a third to death for kicks and place his body in a trunk, from which they callously serve refreshments to party guests, which include the murdered man's father, aunt, and girlfriend. In my first review of this film in Quirk's Reviews I wrote that “it isn't moving and it needs to be.” How ironic that watching it again recently I found it almost unbearably moving. Although it may seem that the victim gets short shrift – we never really get to know him, there are no flashbacks in which we see him, and the characters talk about him in general terms but don't really say very much about him (this in itself is chilling) – by the end of the film he is very much center stage. Although in the opening sequence John Dall seems self-conscious and all too busy “acting” the murder, in the rest of the picture he is absolutely perfect as the more dominant of the two sociopathic murderers. Farley Granger probably gives his best performance in this (although some might say it was in Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train). Cedric Hardwicke and Constance Collier are splendid as the victim's father and aunt, and Joan Chandler is sharp and savvy as the gal who was recently dumped by another party guest and is now the almost-fiancee of dead David. I had always felt that Jimmy Stewart wasn't quite powerful enough in the final sequences, but his underplaying seems quite effective this time out. All the while I was reflecting on the horrible impact this will have on the dead man's parents and girlfriend, how so many innocent lives (and two not-so-innocent) have been changed irrevocably. And that devastating final shot: Jimmy Stewart, gun in hand, sits down to face the murderers and wait for the police to arrive. His arm is draped tenderly and protectively across the trunk in which the young man's body is hidden, as if he's keeping it safe from further violation – it is a very affecting image. Despite Hitchcock's unusual approach to filming (he shot the entire picture in ten minute takes with only one actual cut), the fluid camera work keeps this interesting on the visual level, and it is not for an instant boring. The homoerotic elements are so downplayed for the most part that the film never seems especially “homophobic.”

Verdict: Rope seems to get better with the passage of time. ***1/2.

DESK SET

DESK SET (1957). Director: Walter Lang.

Although it has generally been considered that this is not one of the better Katharine Hepburn/Spencer Tracy vehicles, it is actually a warm, funny, extremely well-acted and well-written comedy with heart and splendid performances. Not only is Hepburn at her most winning in this film, but she plays one of her most likable, admirable, entirely lovely characters, a head of a research department who longs desperately for her boyfriend (Gig Young) to marry her and shows real concern and kindness for the people who work under her, even the mail room boy (whom she advises in getting bonuses). Spencer Tracy is extremely charming and adept in his portrayal of a kind of efficiency expert who is helping to bring automation and computer services to the workplace via a big machine that will be used to answer research questions. Will Hepburn and her cohorts be out of a job? Hepburn worries over this particular question even as she draws closer to Tracy and Gig Young (finally) draws closer to her. At one point Joan Blondell, as one of Hepburn's colleagues, does a dead-on impression of Hepburn. The supporting cast is terrific, the pace is fast, and Hepburn is truly amazing. In one scene, when Gig Young comes by to cancel an engagement, she gets across her disappointment, hope, wearied anguish, and bewilderment over their relationship and her true placement in his life in telling fashion.

Verdict: Kate is Great! ***1/2.

A LETTER TO THREE WIVES

A LETTER TO THREE WIVES (1949). Writer/Director: Joseph L. Mankiewicz.

An unseen woman (voiced by Celeste Holm), Addie Ross, sends a letter to three different women telling them that she's run off with one of their husbands. This extremely interesting comedy-drama is one of those infrequent pictures that somehow has more to it than meets the eye, even though it's neither a major drama nor a side-splitting comedy. Somehow it call comes together beautifully (despite some missteps and superficial, sitcom-like aspects); the fine acting from the entire cast really helps put it over. Jeanne Crain, who worries that she's plain and awkward, remembers that her husband gave Addie her first kiss. Ann Sothern recalls that Addie remembered her husband Kirk Douglas' birthday when she did not. And snappy Linda Darnell, in perhaps her most memorable performance, wonders if her rich husband and former boss (Paul Douglas) ran off with Addie because he thinks she, Darnell, only wants him for his money. The Darnell/Douglas section of the story is the best and most amusing. One might wonder why someone as “wonderful” as Addie Ross didn't marry one of those three men, or someone else, long before.

Verdict: Very entertaining stuff. ***.

THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN MARVEL

THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN MARVEL (1941). Directors: William Witney; John English.

Noticing and envying the success of Superman, in the 1940's Fawcett Comics came out with their own super-strong guy and named him Captain Marvel. This character's tremendous success made DC Comics (publisher of Superman, Batman etc.) nervous, so they initiated a law suit, which was initially dismissed. Eventually it was Fawcett's lack of faith in the continuing viability of super-hero comic books – and the enormous court costs -- that wiped the good captain and his “marvelous” associates off the newsstands. Fawcett settled out of court and discontinued its entire comic book line. But not before Republic pictures made a serial based on the comic book. [Ironically, decades later DC Comics acquired the rights to all the Fawcett Comics' characters, including Captain Marvel, and began publishing new adventures of the character, making it clear once and for all that they should never have won that law suit.] In the comic books the facial features of Captain Marvel were based on Fred MacMurray's, but MacMurray was too big a star at the time to appear in a Republic serial so “B” western player Tom Tyler got the job while Frank “Junior” Coghlan got the plum assignment of the captain's young alter ego Billy Batson.

Adventures of Captain Marvel, despite the usual assortment of dumb moments and lapses in logic, is a stupendously entertaining chapter play that moves quickly and features some outstanding sequences (the best of which has Captain Marvel about to be sizzled in a flash flood of molten lava at the end of the fifth chapter out of twelve). The identity of the villain, The Scorpion, isn't telegraphed, and some suspense is worked up over his unmasking. The stunts, fisticuffs, and other action scenes (courtesy of co-director William Witney) are all first-rate. Now available in a crisp DVD print, this is highly recommended for super-hero and action fans, and kids of all ages.

NOTE: If you love classic cliffhanger serials, go directly to the cliffhanger page of Quirk's Reviews Online by clicking here.

Verdict: One of the great classic cliffhangers! ***1/2.

STOLEN HOLIDAY

STOLEN HOLIDAY (1937). Director: Michael Curtiz.

Kay Francis is a dress model who is hired by a man who wants her to model clothing for his wife, who is ill at home. Only it turns out the man (Claude Rains) has no wife and really wants Kay to help him put on a domestic front for some investors. Apparently it works, because in short order (in running time, that is) Rains is a successful businessman and Kay has opened her own fashion house with money given her by a grateful Rains. Unfortunately, it also turns out that Rains is a crook, although he feigns innocence with Francis, asking her to marry him (for added respectability) as the authorities close in, when she really loves Ian Hunter. This light drama hinges on the enduring friendship between Rains and Francis, who feels she owes him everything, but we don't see enough of those early years when this friendship is forged and see nothing at all of the crucial meeting with the investors for which Rains utilized Kay in the first place. The film isn't terrible, just distinctly minor. Francis is okay, giving the part no more than it deserves (although there are actresses who might have done more with it), Rains is excellent, and Alison Skipworth adds some sparkle as a friend and associate of Kay's who sees through Rains from the first.

Verdict: Easy to take but forgettable. **.

THE PARADINE CASE

THE PARADINE CASE (1948). Director: Alfred Hitchcock. NOTE: This review contains important plot points.

The Paradine Case is essentially a film about a middle-aged barrister undergoing a mid-life crisis. He falls for his beautiful client and is so convinced of her goodness and innocence that he virtually drives an innocent man he accuses of the crime in court to suicide. When his client confesses on the witness stand, he is emotionally shattered and wants to quit the bar. Okay. The trouble with The Paradine (pronounced Para-deen) Case is that this middle-aged lawyer is played by Gregory Peck with two streaks of gray in his hair which do absolutely nothing to make him look any older than a man in his thirties, which he was at the time. Although Peck can deliver his lines with authority, he is not good at displaying emotion or vulnerability (Jimmy Stewart would be have much better, as his performance in Vertigo indicates) so that much of the power of the film is completely lost. This is truly a shame because the film boasts excellent performances by a large ensemble cast, superb Selznick production values, a wonderful score by Franz Waxman, and has many good scenes and fascinating details. (Alida) Valli, as the accused murderess Mrs. Paradine, has such an expressive face that she doesn't really have to act. Charles Laughton and Charles Coburn are excellent as the judge and Peck's law partner, respectively. Ann Todd scores in a sensitive performance as Peck's wife, trying to be brave and mature as she watches her husband falling in love with an immoral woman, and Joan Chandler, so fine in Rope, offers another expert performance as Coburn's snappy daughter. Louis Jourdan, who was “introduced” in this film along with Valli, is also excellent as the man Mrs. Paradine loves with all her passion. The Paradine Case is certainly worth a look despite the fact that it isn't the masterpiece it could have been. [Hitchcock wanted to use Laurence Olivier and Greta Garbo for the lead roles!]

Verdict: Not great but definitely under-rated by many. ***.

QUICKSAND

QUICKSAND (1950). Director: Irving Pichel.

Probably trying to change his image and show his range the way song and dance man Dick Powell did years before, Mickey Rooney starred in this film noirish thriller about a mechanic who winds up on the run from police after meeting a tough blond with expensive tastes. Rooney is loved by a good brunette (Barbara Bates), but is more fascinated by the zesty blond (Jeanne Cagney) who lusts after a two thousand dollar fur coat. Rooney's troubles begin when he “borrows” twenty dollars from the till to take Cagney out on a date. Before long he's pawning watches he doesn't quite own, mugging drunks carrying wads of cash, stealing cars from his boss, breaking into arcades for the night's take, and strangling his employer. But the movie refuses to truly let Rooney be a bad guy even though it's clear that he is. His criminal actions aren't prompted by a desire to feed a starving family but by expediency; throughout the picture he consistently makes the wrong and most evil choices. SPOILER ALERT: Running off with the good brunette after presumably murdering his boss, he conveniently hijacks the car of a sympathetic lawyer and eventually learns that his employer is still alive. (“Men don't die easily,” the lawyer tells Rooney. “They take a lot of killing.”) At the unconvincing conclusion, Rooney assures everyone that he's ready to take what's coming to him, that he's essentially a “decent” person (who mugs, robs and “murders!”). In a part that could have been tailor-made for a young Cagney, Widmark or Garfield, Rooney acquits himself nicely, only resorting to stock good guy mannerisms – as if to redeem his unlikable character -- in the film's final quarter when the story goes completely awry and his formerly vital, emotionally-true thesping becomes perfunctory. The film's standout performance is from vivid Jeanne Cagney, who positively sizzles as the blond who's only out for herself. Equally good in a supporting part is Peter Lorre, who plays the arcade owner who's carrying a torch for former employee Cagney; he and Rooney have several good scenes together. Barbara Bates' mediocre acting proves beyond a doubt why little was heard of her after she appeared in this and at the ending of All About Eve the same year. The picture is well-directed and has an effective if unmemorable score by Louis Gruenberg, who decades before was composing operas for the Met.

Verdict: Not great but has its moments. **1/2.

THE LOVES OF EDGAR ALLAN POE

THE LOVES OF EDGAR ALLAN POE. (1942). Director: Henry Lachman.

Producer Bryan Foy brought this project with him from Warner Brothers and 20th Century-Fox chief Daryl Zanuck had little interest in it, unfortunately. Which is probably why what could have been a masterpiece was chopped down to a 65 minute long "B" feature that did little for its cast or director. The script is suprisingly faithful to the basic facts of Poe's life, especially his strained, hostile relationship with his guardian John Allan, although the age of Poe's cousin Virginia, whom Poe married, is increased from a scandalous, immoral thirteen to around eighteen as a sop to the production code. Director Henry Lachman helmed a film with a good pace and much atmosphere and the cast could not be bettered, with Strudwick superb and passionate as Poe. Strudwick probably would (and should) have had a much bigger career if Zanuck and the studio had lavished more promotional care on what is probably the only (near-major) film he starred in. The under-rated Linda Darnell [photo above], who herself was only eighteen at the time, is also excellent as Virginia, and Jane Darwell gives her usual fine performance as Virginia's mother, "Muddy." At such a short length (much of the picture seems to have been left on the cutting room floor; the voice-over narration is a dead giveaway) the film is not nearly as developed in the dramatic sense as it needs to be, and it did not receive good reviews. Still, the performances alone make it memorable, and there are several good scenes, including one in which Poe reads "The Raven" to a group of men who can't make head nor tail out of it; only a small boy registers his appreciation. [This effective sequence is quite contrived, however, as "The Raven" was actually one of Poe's most popular successes.]

Verdict: Under-rated and memorable. ***.

SLANDER

SLANDER. (1956) Director: Roy Rowland. NOTE: This review reveals some important plot details.

Inspired by the Confidential scandals of the fifties, this picture presents Van Johnson -- who comes through quite nicely in a solid dramatic part -- as a children's entertainer who is told some unsavory facts about his past will be published unless he comes up with some dirt on a major movie star that he used to know in the old neighborhood. This comes -- heartbreakingly -- just after Johnson has been given a major break as host of a popular kiddie show. Johnson had been sent away for armed robbery years ago (to make this more palatable we are told that his mother was seriously ill and they needed money for medicine) and although he's served his time, the sponsor is afraid the public will react negatively to the news -- which they do. Johnson refuses to play ball with the scandal sheet and the details of his incarceration are published. His wife (Ann Blyth, also solid) wants him to tattle on the film actress for the sake of his job, their lives, and -- especially -- their little boy, but Johnson is just too decent to do the deed. This leads, indirectly, to the death of their son as he runs into the street to get away from some playmates who are taunting him about his father. The film is uncompromising in that there is absolutely no happy ending: Johnson and Blyth are left to deal with the despair they feel over their boy's death and Johnson is out of a job -- and a career. Depressing stuff indeed, although one imagines the audience was supposed to feel some satisfaction when the scandal sheet publisher (Steve Cochran) is shot to death by his own outraged mother (Marjorie Rambeau)! Slander is a very interesting picture with some trenchant observations and dialogue, but it has a somewhat slick and surfacy feel to it, despite some strong scenes. Although Rambeau is excellent as Cochran's mother (and his insufficient conscience) she is given some scenes that play in the dramatic sense but aren't very logical otherwise. First, we're asked to believe that she would pay a call on Blyth the very day that her little boy has been killed (to find out if she blames Cochran for what happened); then we're supposed to believe that she would actually murder her own son in cold blood. Slap him, shout at him, scream in disgust, maybe -- but murder? This is a sop to the audience, which was probably hoping the callous guy would get it in the end. Speaking of Cochran, he may not have been a great actor, but here he plays against type, all suave and debonair over the oily infrastructure, and is not only credible but very effective. He actually gets the lion's share of the running time and runs with it.

Verdict: **1/2.

NOW, VOYAGER

NOW, VOYAGER (1942). Director: Irving Rapper.

“No member of the Vale family has ever had a nervous breakdown.”

If you take the time to analyze this classic soap opera, you might find yourself wondering why you enjoyed it so much, as it is certainly full of moments both contrived and overly convenient, yet it works from start to finish on an emotional level, in no large part (although not exclusively) due to Max Steiner's memorable, intensely romantic musical score [which he recycled for at least one later movie]. Bette Davis gives one of her best performances – she is not as affected and mannered as she is in The Little Foxes, for instance -- as Charlotte Vale, who is dominated by a mother (Gladys Cooper) almost as bad as the old lady in Night Must Fall. Getting psychological treatment (it's never really specified what this consists of, although weaving is one of the components), and a major make over (it's also never specified who does this for her), her doctor (Claude Rains) suggests she open herself to life by taking an ocean cruise. There she meets a man (Paul Henreid) – unfortunately married -- who helps bring her out of her shell and feel attractive for what she suggests is the first time in her life (she obviously has forgotten her own flashback in which she relates her romance with a handsome wireless operator [Charles Drake] on a ship when she was twenty). Even though Henreid's wife sounds like a neurotic monster who is jealous and unloving of her own daughter, it never occurs to the man that a divorce might be in the offing. Certainly his daughter wouldn't be adversely affected by this, as she winds up meeting and loving Charlotte when she goes for a spell to – would you believe it -- the very same sanitarium where Charlotte got her “cure” (Charlotte has returned there after the emotional turmoil of her mother's death, which she unfairly blames on herself). Recognizing Henreid's child, another “ugly duckling,” Charlotte takes the girl under her wing and helps her, too, to blossom. In the famous ending -- “let's not ask for the moon, we have the stars” Charlotte tells Henreid – you get the impression that it won't be long until this supposedly wonderful man realizes which woman he should be spending his life with. This may not be a “serious,” profound drama, but the darn thing is nevertheless poignant and affecting because it deals in its own way with such compelling themes as loneliness; fitting in; the traps in choosing the right path in life and love; being cut off from the one person you need the most etc. It also has always struck a chord in the audience because of its intelligent exploitation of the ugly duckling/Cinderella aspect of the storyline: the hopeless geek makes good. Despite its many dumb moments, the well-acted and handsomely produced Now, Voyager is a cut above most of the other “Oh, how the rich suffer!” movies of the thirties and forties. Although it never could be said that Bette Davis was a genuinely beautiful woman, in some shots of this film she is genuinely stunning.

Verdict: Great Old Soap Opera. ***.

BRINGING UP BABY

BRINGING UP BABY (1938). Director: Howard Hawks.

After sixty-seven years this hilarious film arguably remains the best and funniest “screwball” comedy ever made. Katharine Hepburn is an heiress who is instantly attracted to a somewhat stuffy but handsome and likable scientist (Cary Grant) whose life she turns upside down (on the eve of his marriage to a cold fish, no less) as she not only tries to win him over but deal with a tamed leopard named Baby who was dropped off at her door. Grant is putting together the bones of a dinosaur and is supposed to take particular care of a certain specimen which winds up being buried in an enormous backyard by Hepburn's little dog. If that's not enough, a dangerous leopard escapes from a zoo and is mistaken for Hepburn's charming pet. Add Hepburn's peppery relative (May Robson), an alleged big game hunter (Charlie Ruggles) and other eccentrics to the mix and you've got a classic that sparkles and delights from start to finish. While the material may seem more geared to Lucille Ball, Hepburn gives a wonderful, interestingly nuanced performance, and Grant puts his fine comic gifts on display throughout. Howard Hawks keeps things at a brisk pace. While I've never belonged to the school of major Hawks' admirers, it has to be said that this is one of his best pictures, far more memorable than Rio Bravo and others of its ilk.

Verdict: Great! ***1/2

MISSILE TO THE MOON

MISSILE TO THE MOON (1959). Director: Richard Cunha. 

Missile to the Moon is one of a series of astronauts-encounter-beautiful-women-on-a-sinister-planet films of the fifties, which include Queen of Outer Space, Fire Maidens of Outer Space, and Cat-Women of the Moon (of which Missile is a loose remake). None of these would be considered great movies, but they are fun to watch if taken in the right spirit. For one thing, many critics over the years seem to have ignored the fact that these films – certainly Missile to the Moon – were made for juvenile audiences. Some critics, such as Bill Warren in his entertaining “Keep Watching the Skies!,” rant about the ineptitudes of the film and its dumb science, which seems besides the point when you consider that it is clearly a fantasy “comic book” movie geared for children. Missile is actually entertaining in its own dopey way, far more so than its model Cat-Women of the Moon. We have a collection of gorgeous women trapped in an oxygen-rich cavern inside the moon; a giant spider “dark monster” that eats sacrifices; rock monsters that blend in with cliff walls and then pull away to clunk after their victims; a cat-fight between the heroine and the moon bitch who has her eye on the hero; and the enormous bosom of said bitch Nina Bara, who stabs her leader (or “Lido”) in the back so that she can be ruler of the dying (all the men are gone) little moon community. Years before he made this film Richard Travis co-starred with Bette Davis in The Man Who Came to Dinner; his career went on a downslide that never quit (at least Jim Davis, who had been with Bette in Winter Meeting, eventually wound up on TV's Dallas). In Missile Travis plays a scientist who inadvertently goes along with his girlfriend (Cathy Downs), their colleague who built the rocketship, and two escaped convicts on a trip to the moon. Tommy Cook is fairly vivid as the nasty little Gary, and Gary Clarke is competent as his fellow jailbird, Lon. Laurie Mitchell, who played the Queen of Outer Space, has a small role in this and gets eaten by the unconvincing, wiggly prop spider and Marjorie Hellen, another one of the moon gals, betrays some sensitive acting skills that are generally unappreciated in movies like this. (Later she changed her name and became better known as Leslie Parrish.) Nina Bara chews up the scenery (some might say she acts with her breasts) but she's undeniably vital if not downright operatic. Travis merely proves that he really wasn't much of an actor. Several alleged beauty contest winners were chosen to fill out the cast but they are merely decorative; not one of them gets to say a line. Cathy Downs gets the best dialogue: Looking around at the gorgeous moon women, she says “ If I'd known there was going to be this kind of competition I'd have undressed for the occasion.” {DVD available from Image Entertainment. Includes some interesting publicity and backstage shots in a photo gallery extra.} 

Verdict: Entertaining nonsense. **1/2.

UNKNOWN TERROR

UNKNOWN TERROR (1957). Director: Charles Marquis Warren.

When a young man disappears while searching for a mysterious cavern known as the “Cave of Death” in South America, his sister (Mala Powers), husband (John Howard) and friend (Paul Richards) decide to go look for him and come across a mad doctor (Gerald Milton) who is experimenting with fungi, allegedly for new antibiotics. Everyone in the small village, including the doctor and his beautiful Indian bride (May Wynn) are tight-lipped about the location of this cave and even deny that it exists, but eventually our intrepid trio make their way inside the place and discover exactly why the cave has such a sinister reputation, to put it mildly. This is a perfectly creditable, atmospheric and well-paced “comic book” movie that piles on one eerie incident after another and has a wild climax that seems derived from everything from H. G. Wells' novel “The Time Machine”with its morlocks to the bogey men/cavern finale of Laurel and Hardy's Babes in Toyland. [Remember, The Time Machine wasn't filmed until seven years later.] It isn't for a moment very reasonable but it is consistently entertaining. In most films of this nature the characters seem to have no real life outside of the story (or any life at all for that matter) but Kenneth Higgins' script at least attempts to create characters who have a convincing back story, and the actors follow suit: for instance, when Paul Richards shows up at the home of Mala Powers, we don't need any dialogue to know that these two were once lovers. For the most part the actors, including May Wynn and Gerald Milton, play with conviction, although the latter does become a little hammy in the final sequences. Powers and Richards certainly deserved bigger parts in better movies, but their work here is nothing they should have been ashamed of. Much – too much – has been made of the fact that the special effects for the big finale are low-tech, to say the least, but the fact is that they are also perfectly effective for a black and white low-budget movie and it is also true that Unknown Terror is creepy and a lot of fun! [Available from Sinister Cinema.]

Verdict: Not great but great fun. **1/2.

HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN

HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN (1970). Director: Jimmy Sangster.

A retelling of the Frankenstein legend has little to do with Mary Shelley's novel and much more to do with Hammer Film's 1957 Curse of Frankenstein, in which Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) was much more evil than his monster. In this black comedy variation, Ralph Bates offers a splendid interpretation of a Victor Frankenstein who has outward grace and charm but is thoroughly rotten inside. Whenever anyone gets in his way – including his best friend – he murders him or has him killed by the monster. He poisons the father of the woman who loves him, and when she loses everything to her late father's creditors invites her to move into his mansion – not as his wife but as his housekeeper! One of the most rousing scenes has Bates dousing the blackmailer who brought him corpses in an acid bath. Kate O'Mara is succulent as the sexy wench who services the elder Frankenstein and then his son, and David Prowse (who stood in for Darth Vader in the Star Wars movies as James Earl Jones mouthed the words) makes a rather handsome monster. Jon Finch (of Hitchcock's Frenzy) is Victor's old friend and current police inspector. Whatever its flaws this is highly entertaining and quite well acted by all. While Sangster was never exactly one of the great horror directors, he keeps things moving at a very swift pace.

Verdict: Great fun. ***

FROM HELL IT CAME

FROM HELL IT CAME (1957). Director: Dan Milner. 

Scientists are testing the effects of radiation on the testy natives of a south seas island when a young man is put to death for political reasons after being accused of poisoning his own father. Innocent, he vows to come back from the grave and get vengeance. Before long, a strange tree trunk starts growing out of the spot where the man was buried. This weird tree has a knife sticking out of its trunk somewhat corresponding to the spot where the man was stabbed in the chest by his executioner. Our scientists dig up the trunk, take it to their lab, and medicate it intravenously, bringing it back to life. No one ever comments on the fact that the tree has a face with two eyes and a snarling mouth. Before long the tree is walking around the island clumsily murdering the ones who did him wrong and others who cross his path. The ridiculous looking monster by Paul Blaisdell has some of the charm of his creation for It Conquered the World and might have been moderately scary if it had been brought to life with some decent special effects. The basic idea of walking into a forest unaware that one of the trees is mobile, homicidal, and sentient is creepy, but rarely exploited by this time-waster of a movie. Richard Bernstein's screenplay has a couple of clever ideas in it (the tree trunk has a heartbeat and bleeds green “blood”) as well as a few quirky characters, such as the allegedly cockney widow who runs the trading post and is looking for a new husband. Most of the actors are barely competent, however, and the picture has little if any thrills. It's endearingly dopey in its own way, but not necessarily a lot of fun. Still fifties creature-feature completists will want to own it and may get a kick out of one or two scenes. [Available on video and DVD from Sinister Cinema.] 

Verdict: Too weird for its own good. **.

IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE SEA

IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE SEA (1955). Director: Robert Gordon.

The true star of this movie is special effects wizard Ray Harryhausen and his stupendous stop-motion giant octopus, which attacks ships, snatches people off the shore, destroys the Golden Gate Bridge, and smashes unstoppably through San Francisco in search of squiggling and screaming human food. Flawed by its minuscule budget, the movie nevertheless holds the attention and has some splendid sequences, particularly those shots of soldiers using flame throwers to push back the gargantuan tentacles of the sea beast as they snake through the city. Faith Domergue is fun and sexy as a more liberated kind of lady scientist than usual, while Ken Tobey and Donald Curtis are more or less solid support as, respectively, a Navy sub commander/romantic interest and a colleague of Domergue's. Lots of creepy fun. The DVD, which has an excellent print, also features a documentary on Harryhausen and other extras.

Verdict: Great fun! ***.