Category Archives: Movies

Ripe for Redemption

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Movie night!

And we’re slummin’ on Poverty Row, Hollywood again. This time we’ll be sampling one of the low-budget efforts of Republic Pictures.

Tonight’s delight is a forgettable little wisecracking-detective saga from 1946; The Inner Circle. The title has nothing to do with the flick…but it is fun to say out loud in your best funereal voice. There are interesting performances by Ricardo Cortez, William Frawley (the definitive Fred Mertz, Lucy & Ricky’s neighbor), and the almost delightful Adele Mara.

But what makes the film worth watching is Will Wright.

WARNING: a geezer moment is about to ensue.

Will Wright is one of those faces that haunts my TV-watching childhood. To me, his career sounds like a dream. In the movies he worked with Tracy & Hepburn in Adam’s Rib (1949), Peck & Mitchum in Cape Fear (1962), Powell & Loy in Shadow of the Thin Man (1941), and Brando in The Wild One (1953). That should be enough for anyone, but then there’s his television resume. Mr. Wright was in The Dick Van Dyke Show, Perry Mason, The Real McCoys, Rawhide, 77 Sunset Strip, Leave It to Beaver, Cheyenne, Sugarfoot, Maverick, Father Knows Best, I Love Lucy, and The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. Animal stars flocked to him in Lassie, Rin-Tin-Tin, Mister Ed, and Fury (“The story of a horse and the boy who loved him.”- you can also say that in your best funereal voice). He portayed town skinflint Ben Weaver in several episodes of The Andy Griffith Show, including a Christmas episode that pretty well shattered my pre-teen heart.

Mr. Wright was born old, was often mean, but seemed always ripe for redemption.

…ripe for redemption…

Maybe that’s what’s missing in some of our elected leaders these days. I fear they’ve drifted far from being ripe for redemption.

Maybe we could use an actor like Will Wright for these troubled times.

Parole Bored

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Movie Night!

Watching the 1948 treat; Parole, Inc. It’s from another Poverty Row studio; Orbit Productions.

Publicists cry, “All-Star Cast!” a lot, but when is it truly appropriate?

Tonight is that night.

I’m talkin’ ‘bout a flick that offers Turhan Bey (you loved him in The Mad Ghoul-1943 and The Mummy’s Tomb-1942), Evelyn Ankers (you loved her in The Frozen Ghost-1945, The Invisible Man’s Return-1940, Son of Dracula-1943, The Ghost of Frankenstein-1942, and The Wolf Man-1941), and…wait for it…Lyle Talbot (you laughed at him in Plan 9 From Outer Space-1959, Mesa of Lost Women-1953, and Glen or Glenda-1953).

There are two amazing things about that last sentence.

  • I’ve seen every one of those films and, sadly, am not ashamed to admit it.
  • None of these film actors are the starring actor in tonight’s film.

That honor goes to Michael O’Shea. You probably didn’t love him in anything, but Barbara Stanwyck loved him in Lady of Burlesque-1943, and he’s actually OK in this flick, which is more than you can say about the Bey/Ankers/Talbot trio. It’s also more than you can say about the film itself which centers on a criminal gang infiltrating a parole board.

If you have that on your bingo card, I concede.

No, not so good…but Lyle Talbot has certainly done worse.

I Picked the Wrong Year to Give Up Drinking, Smoking, Amphetamines, and Sniffing Glue

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Movie night!

One of my favorite TV shows growing up was Sea Hunt starring Lloyd Bridges. I was watching Mr. Bridges dive underwater long before he was watching the skies blearily in Airplane. And long before that, he was making tonight’s movies.

That’s right, I said “movies”…plural.

It’s a Lloyd Bridges double-feature tonight (now there’s a phrase you don’t hear every day); The Limping Man (1953) and Trapped (1949). Inexplicably, neither have been made into musicals or roller coaster rides.

The Limping Man features early 1950’s plane travel (yes, it was hard to seriously watch Bridges in an airplane of any kind) with passengers disembarking on the runway and then walking to the terminal in the open air. (Geezer moment – this was de rigueur at Bluegrass Field in Lexington when I began flying, rain, snow, or shine.) The seats on Mr. Bridges’ movie plane were bigger than my first apartment.

The movie also features a complex and smart plot and a completely stupid ending. Think Dallas and weep.

Trapped features lots of Treasury Department doin’s with counterfeit twenty dollar bills (a bogus twenty in 1949 was damn serious bidness) and clunky cars in Los Angeles in the shortest car chase I’ve ever seen. Little-known fact illustrated by this flick; the Treasury Department in the late 1940’s was comprised 100% of white men in three-piece double-breasted suits. I’ve not seen such a monolithic wardrobe in film since Men in Black. Mind you, I’m not complainin’, I’m just explainin’ – I love a good three-piece suit.

The film also features a young and delicious Barbara Payton which is quite worth the price of admission. Ms. Payton later made an interesting early Hammer sci-fi film; The Four-Sided Triangle (1955). Unfortunately, much of the plot of The Four-Sided Triangle revolved around the irresistible physical charms of Ms. Payton’s character. By that point in her career, she wasn’t quite as irresistible, but she looks great in Trapped.

As for Lloyd Bridges…

…well…

…he was in both flicks.

Looking for Mr. Wong

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Movie night and a lovely evening for another stroll through Poverty Row; the low-budget side of Hollywood.

Asian detectives were plentiful and standard fare for movie-goers in the 30’s and 40’s. They remain so today for me. Charlie Chan (either Warner Oland or Sidney Toler), Peter Lorre’s Mr. Moto, and Boris Karloff as Mr. Wong are all welcome to solve my homicidal conundrums. All of those actors are improbable, occasionally silly, and delightful. None of them of course are actually Asian…go figure. But then, the last Pad Thai we ordered was of dubious ethnicity now that I think of it.

The Mystery of Mr. Wong (1939) offers us all that foolishness in big servings;

  • Our Asian detective is played by an Englishman with a Russian-sounding name. Oh yeah…I’m buyin’ that.
  • Thrilling quote #1; “Then it was deliberate murder.” (Is there really any other kind?)
  • Thrilling quote #2; “He’s absolutely trustworthy, completely devoted to me.” (I’d be slappin’ the cuffs on him pronto.)
  • Boris Karloff’s make-up looks more like it’s from Madame Tussaud’s than Nanking.
  • Thrilling quote #3; “You know something, but you hold your tongue in more than one language.” (I know there’s wisdom in there somewhere but it plumb evades me.)
  • The clock strikes three a.m. in the film, but when Mr. Wong emerges from his bedroom at the police detective’s summons, he’s wearing his dressing gown and a perfectly knotted tie. Classy. Of questionable sleeping hygiene, but definitely classy.
  • The McGuffin in this flick is “The Eye of the Daughter of the Moon” – not quite as catchy as “The Maltese Falcon”.

What fiddle-faddle.

I loved it.

Standing Still for Michael Rennie

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Movie Night!

But first, a Geezer Moment.

In the early 60’s there were three – count’em – three TV channels from which to choose. They were each affiliated with a national network; ABC, NBC, or CBS. One Saturday night, one of those national networks scheduled a program entitled “Saturday Night at the Movies”. The content that first Saturday night was a full-length motion picture from 1951; The Day the Earth Stood Still. The film unexpectedly drew a big audience and within a couple of years, we had “Monday Night at the Movies”, “Tuesday Night at the Movies”, “Wednesday Night at the Movies”, et al.

Hey! It was better by far than all the current reality shows. Gort and Klaatu were certainly more appealing than Honey Boo-Boo and “Love After Lockup.”

The Day the Earth Stood Still was great.

  • Any cast that included Aunt Bee (Francis Bavier), Gunga Din (Sam Jaffe), and a giant robot had to be worth watching.
  • When spaceships start landing at the shortstop position of the Lincoln Monument’s local baseball field, you know attention must be paid.
  • When the military doctor says of the alien visitor; “He makes me feel like a witch doctor” and then proceeds to light up a Marlboro, you know you’re in deep waters.

70 year old dialogue exchanges that sound like they could be uttered today;

Military Bigwig; “Your impatience is quite understandable.”

Alien Guy; “I am impatient with stupidity. My people have learned to live without it.”

Military Bigwig; “I’m afraid my people haven’t. I’m very sorry…I wish it were otherwise.”

I’m guessin’ the Alien Guy didn’t have much patience with talk radio either.

Or this exchange at the Arlington Cemetery;

Little Bobby; “Is it different where you’ve been? Don’t they have places like this?”

Alien Guy; “Well, they have cemeteries, but not like this one. You see, they don’t have any wars.

Little Bobby; “Gee, that’s a good idea.”

Gee…….ya think?

I love this flick.

Klaatu barada nikto, y’all.

Tee ‘Em Up

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I don’t play golf but I wish I did.

I don’t know enough about golf to be legit in passing judgment about any part of it.

But why let that stop me – eh?

I find it pleasant when I channel-surf and happen across a golf tournament on the tube. The real estate involved is utterly Eden-esque and purrs of renewal and plenty and green, green hope. Shame also creeps in as I watch knowing that the resources that produce such Shangri-La’s for game-players and this TV game-watcher could produce housing for the homeless.

That was perhaps a bit brusque…but think about it.

Wait…it might be best if you didn’t.

I confess, I perk up when, in the depths of February, promos for the Masters begin to appear. When my ears hear the phrase; “The Masters, a tradition like no other.” My heart hears; “The Masters, azaleas like no other.” It’s weird. And something in me whispers; “Yes Roger, those crocuses you saw when you were walking your dog will become your azaleas in another 3-4 weeks.”  That’s double weird. But I count the days after Super Bowl till those Augusta promos begin to run. It helps get me though winter, being the three-season guy I am.

Nuthin’ wrong with that…if you don’t think about it too hard.

If you don’t think about the corporate tents, the azaleas brought in from outside for the TV cameras, the limos ferrying the players to where they can begin to walk the course, the rented mansions to house the players (all of whom are just thrilled and honored to be included), and certainly don’t think about the less-than-inspiring history of diversity and inclusion of the host club itself.

No.

If you don’t trouble your head too much on niggling voices from your childhood Sunday School and Civics classes…

I wouldn’t think about it too hard.

It might distract from those lush azaleas that frame the 10th green, or that treacherously perfect pond by the green on the par-3, or that shot of the bridge on Ray’s Creek on a late Sunday spring evening.

It’s only perfect.

It deserves to be appreciated.

It’s perfect…

…for so few…

…for a game…

…that so few can be part of…

…at a club…

…that so few can join…

…and so few would be welcome if they could join.

No, don’t think about it too hard and don’t listen to me. I’m no expert. I journeyed 18 holes once in my life, driving the drinks golf cart, and played one hole that day (after driving the drinks cart – you noodle on that). I enjoyed my day, but I never did it again. I spent an afternoon on a deck in Hilton Head overlooking the 5th tee of the Plantation golf course. The palm trees, the lagoon, the alligators, and the golfers in their little Fred Flintstone carts were beautiful and perfect. Then there’s Caddyshack, and the golf scene in Goldfinger where Bond and Goldfinger cheat each other for high stakes while Oddjob caddies. That is my total golf expertise. What the hell do I know?

I hope the Masters goes on forever. It’s beautiful and perfect, and televised.

I just wonder if we couldn’t do more.

The Wyoming Whirlwind

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Movie Night!

First, sing along with me, buckaroo;

“And that ol’ sheriff, he said;

‘Git you early to bed,

And always keep yer hat screwed on real tight,

In case you git in a fight.”

–Ralph McTell (a cowboy from Farnborough, Kent, England – hotbed of trail-drivin’ music)

I’m continuing my wanderings down the trails of Hollywood’s “Poverty Row” film studios. This time the trail’s a dusty one. Fluff out yer chaps, brush up yer Stetson, and get yer bullet outta yer pocket.

The flick is Wyoming Whirlwind (1932) and I admit initially suffering severe disorientation as the cast credits rolled across the screen.

I have a much-admired friend who lives in Wyoming named Mike Moser. He’s a bright, hard-working, highly-effective guy and I have always considered him to be the Wyoming Whirlwind. But au contraire (as I’m sure they say in Casper), this is a cheapo-cheapo western from Willis-Kent Studios featuring Lane Chandler as The Lone Wolf (for no discernible reason) and his wonder horse, Raven. And by the way, Wyoming is never mentioned again after the opening titles…and there’s no whirlwind……and, of course, Mike’s absent as well – like I said, he’s too bright for this schmegege.

The film features many of the basic food groups of cheapo-cheapo westerns; a hapless sheriff who actually says; “Dag-nabbitt!”, hapless Indians with full gift shop head-dresses and smoke signals, a barroom brawl (yes, the tables do collapse), the sheriff’s wife who actually says; “Land’s sakes!”, and the classic moment; “The killer was….agh-h-h-h!”, and Yakima Canutt – king of stunt men (with lines!).

Raven, the Wonder Horse was a veteran of 20+ movies by the time this was shot and it shows. He was a pro. He keeps his face front, has flash, and always hits his mark. He even seemed to smile at the pretty girl (yes, hapless of course). Clearly, Raven was the best actor in the flick.

Rootin’ Tootin’ Lane Chandler

But Lane Chandler is the star, and his resumé caught my eye.

He was raised on a family horse ranch in Montana, which eventually got him into cowboy films in the first place. He was briefly a star in the silent films, but when sound came calling, he lost his preferred position in the studio to Gary Cooper (another big Montanan). He persevered however though a 50 year, 393 film and TV credits (thank you, IMDB) career, as the roles got smaller and smaller. Weather-related cowboy epics were a specialty of Mr. Chandler. Besides The Wyoming Whirlwind, he also starred in The Texas Tornado, The Hurricane Horseman, and The Cheyenne Cyclone. Insert your own joke here about other films he could have made (The Stillwater Stiff Breeze, perhaps). He was a regular bit player (usually the Sheriff) in every TV western series I grew up watching, but I was too busy learning the theme songs from Maverick, Cheyenne, Sugarfoot, and Have Gun Will Travel to notice.

No, he was not a star for very long, but had a lifetime as a working, paid, tax-paying actor…you could do a lot worse.

The Wyoming Whirlwind, a cowboy flick with no cows, no guitars, no Wyoming, and no whirlwind.

There was a car…a car!…did I mention that?

I loved it…even without my friend Mike.

Lon Squared

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Movie Night!

What, oh what could be more painful than watching Lon Chaney Jr. attempt to play a role in a movie? Undoubtedly, it’s watching him play two roles in the same movie, as painfully demonstrated in the 1935 oddity; A Scream in the Night.

Ol’ Junior’s not the only problem;

  • The film is dingy.
  • It features the slowest-moving police inspector on the planet. You could be charitable and say he’s “inexorable” but no, he’s glacier-like. I can relate: t’s my personal default pace, but as entertainment?
  • It features a parakeet who gives better line readings than any human actor in the flick. A parakeet.
  • It features Mr. Chaney playing a scene with himself – badly on both sides. At least, when he played the Larry Talbot/Wolfman combo (over and over), one of his characters simply slobbered, slaughtered, and neglected personal hygiene.

Peter Sellers did this better; Dr. Strangelove (1964). George Zucco did it better; Dead Men Walk (1943). Hell, Hayley Mills did it better; The Parent Trap (1961).

Curious and dreadful.

I of course loved it.

The Mask of Dimitrios

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Movie night!

At the prompting of my erudite friend Walter Tunis, I watched TCM’s showing of Three Strangers (1946). While I wasn’t as taken with the film or Geraldine Fitzgerald’s performance as Eddie Muller, I was quite arrested by Joan Lorring’s portrayal of Icey.

And of course seeing Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet together again reminded me…

The Mask of Dimitrios (1944) features one of my favorite acting teams. Unlike Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers they don’t dance and sing. Unlike William Powell and Myrna Loy they are not rich and in love with each other. Unlike Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis they are not stupid.

Greenstreet and Lorre could not be more unlike. Nor could their differences be more delightful.

Greenstreet and Lorre don’t even appear together in the same scene in a movie sometimes Casablanca (1942) comes to mind. Lorre squirms, fawns, and dies in Rick’s Café Americaine long before we see Greenstreet fleecing foreigners and swatting flies (with similar personal involvement, I might point out) in the Blue Parrot.

In The Maltese Falcon (1941), Greenstreet; “…likes talking to a man who likes to talk…”, while Lorre complains; “…you’ll understand our conversations have not been such that I wish to continue them.” The chemistry between them is sizzling…like Oliver and Hardy…but with real bullets.

In Dimitrios, the bullets are indeed real. The stakes are sinister and high. The rooms are exquisite and bright, as are the wits. The stairs outside are dark and ominous, as are the intentions. The disgraced remain disgraced. The dead remain…or do they?

Frank Capra can stay home on this one. Ain’ no angels earnin’ wings ‘round these parts.

In these waters, Greenstreet and Lorre swim for their lives while criss-crossing Europe in sleeper cars, sipping champagne, and lookin’ fine in their threads.

If these two fine character actors are both in a flick, you can bet with confidence that the flick is gonna be interesting. The Mask of Dimitrios is exactly that.

I really like this one.

A Face in the Fog

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Movie Night!

Another stroll through Poverty Row, the tawdry low-low-budget collection of film studios that probably were not the stuff of which dreams were made.

Tonight it’s Victory Pictures’ 1936 ludicrous The Face in the Fog – a great title.

The movie…not so much.

But it has its charms;

  • It features bullets made from frozen water. The bullets melt after doing their damage, destroying the evidence (brilliant!), but amazingly survive for hours in the killer’s pocket before they’re used (stupid!).
  • There’s a theatre company terrorized by a hunchbacked villain called “The Fiend.” Well of course there is.
  • It features the classic death scene line; “I recognized him. It was…agh-h-h-h-!”
  • Our hero (an obligatory and intrepid newspaper reporter, engaged to marry the obligatory social editor) has to race to his desk to retrieve his pistol and his snap-brim chapeau before he can “follow that car!”
  • Said hero-reporter is accompanied by an obligatory and comedic dumb photographer. People once built careers playing this stock character. All my actor friends sitting idle in these post-pandemic days should be weeping now.
  • Beautiful and plentiful shots of great shiny cars with running boards and exterior-mounted spare tires are major moments in the flick. I’m not a car guy but these are knockouts and probably a single man’s ticket home.

All that…

All that……

…and it’s still pretty silly.

…frozen bullets…

I loved it.