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Abbott and Costello Meet Captain Kidd (1952)

Sep 281952

Rocky and Puddin’ Head (Bud Abbott & Lou Costello) accidentally swap a love letter between Lady Jane (Fran Warren) and Bruce (Bill Shirley) with Captain Kidd’s (Charles Laughton) treasure map. Kidd and Captain Bonney (Hillary Brooke) gather all the trouble makers together and everyone heads off to find his buried treasure.

I was a fan of Abbot and Costello when a kid. Each film was exciting, hilarious, and both unexpected and familiar. But that was a long time ago. You see, the comedy pair was aided by two things: the limited memory of a six year old, and the inability to rent films or catch them on 180 cable channels. I had to wait for them to pop up on one of our seven Chicago broadcast channels. That meant viewings were few and far between, and that’s how Bud and Lou look best. Since each movie has the two playing the same characters and doing the same jokes, limited access makes them shine. But now I’ve seen twenty or more of their features, and one pretty much looks like the next. Since a few of their flicks, though far from original, are performed better than the others, I like to stick to those, and Abbott and Costello Meet Captain Kidd isn’t one.

It does stand out in several interesting ways. It was the second and last of their color pictures, and color has rarely looked worse. Flat, grainy, dull, and dominated by pastels, Ted Turner’s colorization process would have massively improved the look of the picture. Time hasn’t been kind to the cheap Cinecolor film, but Meets Captain Kidd never looked good.

It also has Charles Laughton slumming it as the title character. He wanted to try his hand at comedy, and while nothing to make Bob Hope tremble, he manages reasonably well. Laughton joins Bud and Lou carrying out the same tired routines and it is more amusing than it has any right to be. While we’re with those three, and the sexy Hillary Brooke as a fiery pirate captain, this is good, lowest-common-denominator, Saturday afternoon entertainment. And the brief scenes of swashing and buckling don’t hurt anything, although the failure of the Cinecolor is more obvious when we’re looking at ships positioning for battle.

But the film is also burdened with an underdeveloped love story between two characters we don’t know and don’t care about. It’s not a surprising addition. Many comedy films of the ’40s and ’50s had similar subplots. Call it a sign of the times. That isn’t to say it was ever a good idea, and it is unfit in every way here. Half way through the film you are likely to notice the two lovers and ask yourself, “who are they and have they been in this whole picture?”

Continuing with the poor practices of yore, the “action” stops from time to time for a song. With the swing era past, apparently no one knew what kind of music fits the ’50s. Their choice of imitation operetta has the advantage of being unexpected, although I can’t think of any other benefit. What does an uninspired, rip-off Nelson Eddy number sound like twenty years from its source? Don’t worry about it. It isn’t as if you’ll remember any of the songs after the credits roll.

A lackluster comedy with lackluster pirate antics, Abbott and Costello Meet Captain Kidd isn’t a bad film. Young children are likely to be entertained, and it won’t bother you if you play it while reading the paper.

Back to Swashbucklers

Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Two Reels

Scaramouche (1952)

Sep 271952

Scaramouche comes at the end of the golden age of Swashbucklers. Westerns were still clinging to the simplistic good vs. evil morality, but for Swashbucklers the charm was waning. Add that pretty much everything that could be done with the genre had been done, and it’s not surprising that its time was over. Still, it went out with a bang as Scaramouche was exciting, funny, and contained one of the greatest swordfights.

Important, Important Swashbucklers Tagged with: Five Reels

Scaramouche (1952)

Sep 241952

Scaramouche is a gasp from a dying genre. The simplistic moral structure that was so uplifting in the films of the 30s and 40s was beginning to look silly in the post war world. Add in that most everything that could be done with the genre in that form had been done, and it’s not surprising that its time was over. A bit of artificial life was instilled into Swashbucklers with color. The studios released a series of uninspired, clichéd, sword epics with spectacular, rich, colors. This couldn’t keep going for long, and shortly after Scaramouche, the genre all but disappeared for thirty years. A few sub-genres appeared and disappeared in those years, such as Sword & Sandal and Arabian Fantasy along with the occasional lackluster Swashbuckler.

Still, if the genre was slipping into limbo, it wasn’t going quietly as Scaramouche is exciting, funny, and contains one of the greatest swordfights. One of the many Swashbucklers based on Rafael Sabatini novels, the movie follows Andre Moreau (Stewart Granger), a rogue and bastard son of unknown royalty. This isn’t about helping the masses or upholding right. Andre is a playboy that abuses his “girlfriend,” threatens and assaults anyone who gets in his way, and laughs off thoughts of freedom and equality. He could easily be the villain if the story was told from a different point of view. But it’s not, and his charm wins over everyone—including me. The only character that holds higher ideals is Philippe (pre-Six Million Dollar Man Richard Anderson), Andre’s friend, who comes off as a fool. When Philippe is killed by the master duelist, the Marquis de Mayness (Mel Ferrer), Andre vows revenge. You’d think that would make for a dark film, but it doesn’t. Nothing is to be taken too seriously. It’s fun revenge. Even the coming French revolution is dismissed as nothing of real importance.

Director George Sidney is best known for musicals, and it shows. Scaramouche plays like a musical, just with swordfights instead of dance numbers. There are lots of laughs, beautiful girls in colorful costumes, tragic events that don’t feel tragic, and lots of enjoyable fluff.

The mixed nature of the characters makes Scaramouche more interesting than it’s contemporaries. Andre isn’t the only one who is less than pure. Lenore, the woman it’s implied Andre is sleeping with, begins the film by attempting to marry a rich sausage maker for his money. When her fiancée mentions that the Delmor brothers sell more sausages, she immediately asks if they are married. Aline, the “good girl” of the piece, has no problem with her companion being a cold blooded killer. And that killer, the Marquis de Mayness, sometimes kills for chivalrous reasons. He is witty, well read, and cares for Aline, treating her far better than Andre treats Lenore, even when she gives him reason to doubt her.

This enjoyable romp climaxes in an incredible swordfight, said to be the longest in screen history (I have no idea if that is true). With the help of sword master Fred Cavens, Granger and Mel Ferrer fence up and down stairs, on balcony rails, and while standing on the backs of chairs. It ranks with the Flynn-Rathbone fight in The Adventures of Robin Hood, the Power-Rathbone fight in The Mark of Zorro, and the Elwes-Patinkin fight in The Princess Bride, as one of the four finest filmed swordfights.

I’ve never been satisfied with the ending of Scaramouche, either with the supernatural ability Andre appears to have to recognize his relatives or the very poor Napoleon joke, but these are minor complaints. Scaramouche is the best of the fantastically colored Swashbucklers of the 40s and early 50s.

Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Five Reels

The Importance of Being Earnest (1952)

Jul 091952

Jack Worthing (Michael Redgrave), known as Earnest in the city, loves Gwendolen Fairfax (Joan Greenwood), and she in turn loves him, to a great extent because she thinks his name his Earnest. Her mother, Lady Bracknell (Edith Evans) is not so pleased with the match. Gwendolen’s cousin, Algernon Moncrieff (Michael Denison) sneaks to Jack’s country home in the guise of being Jack’s non-existent brother Earnest, where he meets Jack’s excessively pretty ward, Cecily Cardew (Dorothy Tutin), who is cared for by her governess Miss Prism (Margaret Rutherford). Algernon falls for Cecily, and she returns his affections, primarily because she thinks his name his Earnest.

This film ruined me for the stage play. It has never happened before that a film production (or even a stage production) of a play was so perfect, so on point in every way, that any other version becomes a disappointment. Even the one very slight variation—moving a few lines at the beginning to a different location—is perfect. I have seen The Importance of Being Earnest performed many times on stage and screen, and no version comes close to this one.

The Importance of Being Earnest is one of the great English language plays. For modern works (say the last 200 years), it is in competition for the top slot. It is Oscar Wilde at his wittiest. It is both a of comedy of manners and a cynical satire of the times—times that have changed only superficially. And perhaps best of all, it is an examination of language itself.

Director Anthony Asquith takes as his mission the creation of a sublime version of Wilde’s work. He is often criticized for not trying to make this film something else. He does not try to “open it up” into something else, the way the disastrous 2002 film did. The attempt to “open it up” has damaged an array of stage productions when brought to film, in some cases slightly, as in A Fiddler on the Roof, while in others mutilating the work, as in Brigadoon. Earnest doesn’t need froth added.

The mistake of these poor critics is they don’t understand the difference between being stagey and not bringing in irrelevant junk. You only add sweeping shots of London if your story requires sweeping shots of London. Instead Asquith makes proper and truly impressive use of the form, most noticeably in the vibrant Technicolor cinematography. The picture looks wonderful, and those more-colorful-than-life colors put us in the right universe as these characters are all more than real life. Like the dialog, the colors are artificial and beautiful. Nor is the camera static. Asquith simply does not draw attention to his shots, but rather uses his framing to tell the story. It is reminiscent of the cinematography in All About Eve (minus the color) in that it was used for a purpose instead of becoming the purpose itself.

Asquith is an actor’s director, bringing the best out of them as well as shooting to let them tell the story. He is lucky to have such a strong team, but none of them are as good in any other work. All are at their peak. To reuse a term, Redgrave, Denison, Rutherford, Greenwood, and Tutin are perfect in their roles, bringing out all the humor while making their characters make sense within this dippy world. Evans goes further. She is Lady Bracknell. It is not that she is the best of what could be in the part, but she is better than that. Lady Bracknell has become Edith Evans (that identification did not seem to harm her career, but it did follow her). No production of The Importance of Being Earnest can match what was done by Redgrave and company, but the play no longer works at all without Evans.

Wit has never been so funny and stupidity has never been so joyous. The Importance of Being Earnest is a masterful play and this movie is a masterpiece.

Of note: I include it in the Post-War British Comedy movement even though it stands out from other members. Yes, it falls within the time frame, but it is in color (a rarity in the movement), it is set in a different time period (even rarer), and it is based on a classic work (rarest of all). But it is so vary British and filled with quirky characters (a foundation of the movement), and while it focuses on the rich, its lampooning of them puts it firmly on the side of the average worker. The cast also includes multiple of the movement’s regular actors: Rutherford, Greenwood, Miles Malleson (as Canon Chasuble) and Richard Wattis (as the unspeaking valet Seton).

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Five Reels

The Narrow Margin (1952)

May 061952

Detective Walter Brown (Charles McGraw) is given the task of escorting Frankie Neall (Maria Windsor), the wife of a mob boss, across country by train. The mob has sent a group of assassins to kill her, though they don’t know what she looks like. They mistake an innocent woman on the train (Jacqueline White) for their target, but then, a lot of people aren’t who they seem to be.

Tense and claustrophobic, The Narrow Margin is the top of the second tier of Film Noir. There’s no let up and no rest. Murders could be anywhere and anyone and there’s no way to know until it is too late. But it is even worse as nothing can be trusted, including the mission. Lies and deceit are all around.

Brown is coarse, and not-so-much heroic as dutiful. He does what he needs to, but he doesn’t like it. I’m not sure he likes anything. He is certainly hard to like. Neall is worse. She’s vulgar and hateful. She’s turned on the mob, but not due to any sense of justice, and would be happy to sell out for a profit if she could figure out a way to do it and survive. She’s everything Brown knew she would be, but then he’d decided what she was without knowing anything about her. Their opponents are blatant thugs, secretive killers, and a slimy businessman. We are deep into Noir, in a world that is never safe, and those who aren’t evil are unpleasant.

There’s some great twists late in the film, and clever dialog all the way through. The Narrow Margin isn’t beautiful the way the best Noirs are, but it is well shot for its small budget. McGraw is generic as the lead, but Windsor is superb, sexy and overflowing with character. The rest of the cast is solid, except for a child, whose character should have been written out on the second draft. This is no gem, but an enjoyable semi-precious stone.

Studio boss Howard Hughes got involved in post-production, with suggested changes that fell between unnecessary to horrendous to impossible (such as his idea of re-filming all scenes with McGraw and Windsor with Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell). Few of his ideas made it in and they only slightly damaged the film, but I’d like to see it in the original form. The biggest change was cutting corruption in the police force—Hughes didn’t like anything questioning the integrity of the police. It is clear while watching that Brown’s partner was on the take—the way the scene is shot, with him stepping away to light his cigar, is a giveaway. But there’s no payoff for this at the end, as there should be, making The Narrow Margin a little less Noir than it should be.

Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

Don’t Bother to Knock (1952)

Mar 211952

Jed Towers (Richard Widmark) is an angry, crude man, dumped by Lynn, his hotel singer girlfriend (Anne Bancroft). Nell Forbes (Marilyn Monroe) is the troubled—very troubled—niece of Eddie, the elevator operator (Elisha Cook Jr.). Eddie arranges for Nell to babysit a wealthy couple’s daughter at the hotel as they attend a banquet downstairs. Jed hits on Nell, after seeing her through the window, but is not ready to deal with her as things become dangerous and violent.

We never leave the hotel, an upscale hotel the drips hopelessness. A sad singer sees no future, and we can’t see one for her. Jed lacks empathy and hates the world. He wants Lynn, but there’s no affection, just need. The elevator operator is described as nervous. He’s just trying to survive, and doing a poor job of it. And then there’s Nell, and something is off about Nell. These are broken people in a broken world. As for the rest of the hotel residents, they are filled with melancholy and ire, or they are wealthy elite who don’t even notice those lesser people. It’s a dark world, and it only gets darker as Nell slips away from reality.

For a film about a babysitter and a broken relationship, this is an amazingly tense film. I could feel a drumbeat under it all, pounding, and slowly, slowly getting faster and faster as things fall apart.

Widmark was a master of the angry young man role and he displays that mastery here. Yet for an actor who can control the screen, he manages to slip into the support role and let Monroe dominate. And dominate she does. She didn’t get many chances like this, to play something far from her fun and frolicsome image and she nails it. She keeps her sex appeal (how could she not) which makes her all the more creepy. I couldn’t look away from her. I love her sex-pot comedies, but I’d have loved to see her in a few more films like this.

In the end perhaps this isn’t pure Noir. Maybe what was shown at the beginning wasn’t the world, but just one way of seeing it. Maybe there was hope. And those “maybes” elevate an already smart and compelling movie to something more.

Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with: Four Reels

Fanfan la Tulipe (1952)

Mar 091952

Charismatic but foolish Fanfan (Gérard Philipe) is on his way to a shotgun wedding when a gypsy girl (Gina Lollobrigida, dubbed by Claire Guibert) tells him he is fated to become a great soldier and marry the princess. He escapes and joins the army, only to learn that the gypsy was really the daughter of the recruitment officer who lures foolish young men into the short life of a military men during the Seven Years War. But Fanfan clings to the prophecy, and luckily has fighting skills to rival his foolishness. Fanfan sets off for adventures that involves sword-fights, chases, beautiful women, and the King of France.

Fanfan la Tulipe is similar to its American cousin, Scaramouche, that came out the same year. Both films take place in France (FanFan was made there) during a time of bloodshed, both have contempt for the government, and both star a very un-heroic hero, who is brave, but has no notion or concern for a higher good. There is little to split the good guys from the bad guys except charisma. Both Fanfan and Andre “Scaramouche” Moreau are cheating womanizers who rarely follow through on their promises, ignore dark political realities, are easily provoked, put others in danger, and are generally asses. But they are such lovable asses that it’s OK.

However Fanfan la Tulipe has one major difference from American Swashbucklers: It lacks morality. Swashbucklers are morality plays. There is right and wrong, and while the current government may be evil, if things were set to rights, then there would be an honorable ruling class that would be worth following. Swashbuckling heroes tend to be roguish, breaking the rules, but only to get to those truer, nobler rules. Fanfan la Tulipe isn’t like that. The leaders are all corrupt and/or buffoons, and should that government be overthrown, the new one would be corrupt and filled with buffoons. Other countries are no worse and no better. Nor does class make a difference. The lower classes are filled with people no better than those at the top. War is just a game where many people die and nothing is accomplished, and that’s how it will always be.

“His Majesty’s soldiers found this war so amusing that they made it last seven years.”

So our “hero” does not shine with the virtues of good citizenship nor learn to be helpful, but rather is a representation of freedom and joy. He’s brave and bold, but an idiot, and is not going to make the world a better place. He’s just going to have fun. And that’s the best anyone can do.

So we have a Swashbuckler that’s also a political satire, and it leans hard into the comedic elements. The many energetic sword-fights are not emotional, but only a step or two from slapstick. The dialog is quick and witty with never a touch of drama, and the narration is biting. That makes Fanfan la Tulipe both joyful and fascinating, and a film which couldn’t have been made in the U.S. till at least twenty years later.

Gérard Philipe was a star already, and this made Lollobrigida into one, and they are supported by a universally excellent cast. While a good time throughout, Fanfan la Tulipe didn’t pull me in emotionally (it wasn’t supposed to), and nothing feels dangerous. It could also use a few edits—a coach chase goes on far too long, making this a very good film, though not one of the greats.

For a film that won major awards and was a huge hit in France and an audience pleaser internationally, it has been largely forgotten. Part of that can be laid at the feet of the French New Wave. The new kids on the block were keen to mock previous French films—after all, no one was giving them budgets to make films like this—and they focused their disdain on Fanfan la Tulipe. They made fun of the politics of the bourgeois and the results of capitalismm but they didn’t take returned criticism well, and Fanfan la Tulipe took shots not only at capitalists, but at everyone, including over-serious communists (and the French New Wave was filled with over-serious communists). Godard and Truffaut won, from a certain point of view, dimming director Christian-Jaque legacy such that he is seldom mentioned as one of the most significant French filmmakers even now when no one would take Godard’s rants seriously. Christian-Jaque had to settle for the piles of money he’d earned through a long and acclaimed career and adoration during his life for being both a popular and an artistic talent. Ah well. And Fanfan la Tulipe is still here.

Note: While shot brilliantly in B&W, the colorized version is surprisingly good.

Foreign Language, Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Three & 1/2 Reels

Against All Flags (1952)

Jan 091952

Brian Hawke (Errol Flynn) is an undercover agent among pirates. Capt. Roc Brasiliano (Anthony Quinn) doesn’t trust him. Captain Prudence “Spitfire” Stevens (Maureen O’Hara) switches back and forth between lusting after him and wanting to skewer him. On his first pirate mission with Brasiliano, they capture an Indian princess and her caretaker (Mildred Natwick). Now Hawke must keep the princess safe while destroying the harbor’s defenses and romancing Spitfire.

In 1938 Errol Flynn starred in the greatest A-picture Swashbuckler. Fourteen years later there’s nothing A-picture about this creaking action film. Quinn is a second rate villain, the battles are matinee-level, and Flynn had aged poorly. The story is simple and dim, and the characters are nonsensical. The pirates are strangely pleasant when it comes to women and the Indian Princess has an IQ of 70. Hawke is trying to ingratiate himself with the pirates (he is a spy after all) but is perpetually a smartass.

While there are many flaws and a general haze of mediocrity, the biggest problem is Maureen O’Hara. She played this same part over and over and it never worked. She’s the “fiery redhead,” which translates to insane. One second she is sweet, the next jealous to the point of murder. She’s supposed to be strong, but as this was the ‘50s, she turns out weak—she yells not from pride and power but from not having a proper man. Why is it she’s a pirate captain but doesn’t command her own ship? They could have made her a feminist icon or a maiden in need of saving. Either way would have worked. But they went for unpleasant. She is stunningly beautiful, but misused.

As the second part of an afternoon double feature—perhaps with a Tarzan film—this would have been fine for young teens in 1952.

Errol Flynn’s Swashbucklers/pseudo-Swashbucklers are: Captain Blood (1935), The Prince and the Pauper (1937), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), The Sea Hawk (1940), Adventures of Don Juan (1948), The Master of Ballantrae (1953), Crossed Swords (1954), and The Dark Avenger/The Warriors (1955).

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Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Two Reels

Superman and the Mole-Men (1951)

Oct 261951

Oil drilling opens up a path for the underground mole-men to come to the surface. Clark Kent (George Reeves) and Lois Lane (Phyllis Coates) happen to be there when panic breaks out. Are the mole-men a threat, or is the real threat humanity? To get this film, you have to be able to read that last line without laughing.

This inexpensive theatrical pilot for the Superman TV show benefits from a sincere and enduring portrayal of the Man of Steel as well as an outlook on humanity that is relevant today. The humans of the nowhere town are ignorant, violent, and angry for no reason. I see Doomsphere residents, Sad Puppies, and Trump supporters all over this film. Where’s Zack’s murderverse Superman when you need him?

The movie suffers from the tiny budget that bought less than it should have, makeup on the level of a kid’s Halloween costume, a script more suited to a ‘40s serial, poor pacing, and a Lois so unpleasant that I wanted the mole-men to be evil so they could sacrifice her to their mole god. But it has George Reeves, who ranks only after Christopher Reeve in his warm, strong and humanizing performance as Superman. Plus, points for it not being an origin story.

Superman and the Mole-Men isn’t for everyone. It is hokey and dated. If you are looking for an action spectacular, you won’t be happy. I enjoy a touch of nostalgia and the film has its heart in the right place. This is a different Superman for a different time.

The character was rebooted for Superman (1978), Superman II (1980), Superman III (1983), and Superman IV: The Quest For Peace (1983), and the semi-sequel, Superman Returns (2006). The character was rebooted again by Zack Snyder for Man of Steel (2013) and Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016).

Reviews, Superhero Tagged with: Two Reels

The Tales of Hoffmann (1951)

Oct 121951

Despondent poet Hoffmann (Robert Rounseville) takes advantage of the intermission of a ballet to drop by a tavern, unaware that the prima ballerina (Moira Shearer) is trying to arrange a tryst with him. Fellow drinkers want to know what has put Hoffmann into such a funk, so he tells three stories of his tragic loves. In the first, Hoffmann is tricked by Spalanzani (body: Leonide Massine; voice: Grahame Clifford) and Coppelius (body: Robert Helpmann; voice: Bruce Dargavel) into falling in love with an automaton (body: Moira Shearer; voice: Dorothy Bond). In the second, he falls for the courtesan Giulietta (body: Ludmilla Tcherina; voice: Margherita Grandi), who is trying to steal his reflection for the devil Dapertutto (body: Robert Helpmann; voice: Bruce Dargavel). In the last, he visits his lover, a singer (Ann Ayars) who will die if she sings. Also visiting her is the demonic Dr. Miracle (body: Robert Helpmann; voice: Bruce Dargavel) who intends for her to die.

Another masterwork by The Archers, the team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, The Tales of Hoffmann is the ultimate example of Powell’s “composed cinema,” where the film is put together from separately created pieces—and as they are separate, they can be the best in their specific areas. This ties into his notion of hybrid art, being that all art is one and everything can be in a film. The Tales of Hoffmann is a combination of ballet, opera, theater, poetry, architecture & design, and painting, encompassed in the tricks of a motion picture. There is no attempt to match mundane reality. This is art in pure form.

The Archers had worked in ballet before with The Red Shoes, a fabulously beautiful movie with a fantasy ballet section. That film was weighed down by the inability of some performers to excel in all areas. A dancer may not be the best at dramatic line readings. That isn’t a problem for The Tales of Hoffmann, where all of the sound was recorded separately, and the visuals were not restrained by the normal movement of time. It’s everything that was good about The Red Shoes, expanded.

And damn is it gorgeous. Perfect voices combined with exquisite dancing and surreal sets.

It’s also depressing. It’s a journey though a man’s emotional and romantic development, on how he (and thus, all men) see first surface and ideal, then more direct sexuality, and finally companionship, and none of it ends well. The music is often uplifting, but the story is heartbreak and sadness. Thematically, it’s just as downbeat, as unlike the stage opera, there is no suggestion that poetry is its own reward. Instead, the artist lies beaten and lonely, with no insight coming from his loss.

It has been suggested that the dark story is to blame for its box office failure, but that thinking came later. More likely it’s because The Tales of Hoffmann is a very unusual film. “Weird.” Neither audiences nor critics knew what to do with it in 1951. It certainly didn’t match the restrained gray films that dominated England. But times have changed and its reputation has grown. Martin Scorcese, a general supporter of The Archers and who has been instrumental in the restoration of their films, said the movie entranced him, influencing his filmmaking. George Romero goes further, saying not only did it inspire him to be a filmmaker, but specifically a horror filmmaker. Yup, this is the dawn of zombies.

If your taste in cinema runs toward current and average fair, I’d suggest working up to The Tales of Hoffmann through other Powell and Pressburger films. Perhaps start with A Matter of Life and Death, then try Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes. You can’t go wrong with an Archers fest.

Fantasy, Reviews Tagged with: Five Reels

The Thing From Another World (1951)

Oct 101951

Arctic researchers find a spaceship that has been buried under the ice for thousands of years. Led by Captain Patrick Hendry (Kenneth Tobey), they bring a frozen alien back to their station. Unfortunately for them, it thaws, and it doesn’t want to make friends.

In 1938, John W. Campbell Jr., the most influential editor in the history of science fiction literature, wrote the award winning story, “Who Goes There.” In it, a team of scientists in the Antarctic are confronted with a predatory, shape changing alien that can impersonate any of them. How can they tell who is human? The filmmakers read this story and found the most compelling elements to be the snow and the space ship, so they ripped out all of the challenging science fiction concepts (the stuff that won awards) and replaced them with a carrot in the shape of Frankenstein’s monster. I suppose audiences, who had little acquaintance with either clever sci-fi films (not that many had been made yet), or the written word, could be pulled in by the nearly invisible plot, but anyone literate should have been horrified by what had been done to one of the important stories of the genre.

Ah well. For a simplistic, conservative, anti-communist rant, The Thing From Another World is nicely made. It should be. While Christian Nyby has the director’s chair, Howard Hawks (Bringing Up Baby, The Big Sleep) was at his shoulder. The dialog scenes (an area where Hawks excelled) certainly bear his mark, and there are a lot of them. Many of these conversations approach comedy (again, an area of expertise for Hawks). The simple story is filmed to generate as much paranoia as possible; the monster is unseen for most of the movie while the humans are confined in buildings with no escape. Not bad for building tension. It also helps to hide the creature as he’s not exactly frightening. But there’s no hiding that there isn’t a lot of substance here.

As The Thing From Another World was promoting fear of communists, the scientists are given a ludicrous position so as to discredit these liberal intellectuals. The soldiers (the good guys) want to blow away aliens on sight, but the scientists want to talk. Since this is the ’50, and viewing communists…ummm, I mean aliens…sympathetically is evil, the lead scientist is given the view that the alien is superior because it lacks emotion and sex; it would be better for all the humans to die if that would allow the alien to live. Not exactly a position that’s going to get a lot of support, nor one that puts any interesting debate into the film. As a final hammering blow for anyone who missed the point, the film is set in the arctic (that’s where those Ruskies will come from, you know) and ends with the words “Watch the skies, everywhere! Keep looking. Keep watching the skies!”

If you can, ignore all of the messages and just take it as a monster-fights-man picture. You’ll enjoy it more.

Aliens, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Lemon Drop Kid (1951)

Oct 081951

Smalltime racetrack hustler, the Lemon Drop Kid (Bob Hope) must raise $10,000 before Christmas to pay back a gangster. He tricks the lesser criminals of New York city into gathering the money for him as street-corner Santas.

If there is a valid complaint against Bob Hope’s comedy shtick, it’s that it is repetitious. He told more-or-less the same jokes as more-or-less the same character for over forty years. A Bob Hope movie is just him doing his routine; plot falls by the wayside. But The Lemon Drop Kid is an exception. It puts Hope into Damon Runyon’s world of good-natured petty thieves and conmen. Sure, Hope is still doing Hope, but this time the rest of the film can stand up to him and even gives him a bit more depth. Sidney Melbourne, aka The Lemon Drop Kid, is an actual character (OK, yes, with lots of Hope’s normal behaviors) that I could care about.

Supplying as much of the humor as Hope is an excellent supporting cast including Lloyd Nolan, Fred Clark, William Frawley (Fred Mertz on I love Lucy), and Tor Johnson (of Plan 9 From Outer Space fame). Making this a Christmas tradition film is Hope and Marilyn Maxwell’s introduction of the now classic Silver Bells. Better still, it is first sung by the gravelly Frawley. Comedy, a little sentiment, a touch of romance, and some Damon Runyon—I wouldn’t let a December pass without The Lemon Drop Kid.

Christmas, Reviews Tagged with: Four Reels

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