Sep 101939
 
three reels

Julian Northrup (Lionel Barrymore), the argumentative and crippled grandfather and caretaker for Pud, is in a custody battle with his deceased wife’s unpleasant sister (Eily Malyon), but he has run out of time. Death has come for him, but with a surprisingly simple trick, he manages to trap the agent of death, Mr. Brink (Cedric Hardwicke) in a tree. With him there, no one on Earth can die.

No doubt most people of my generation would think of On Borrowed Time as a lengthened Twilight Zone episode, particularly as there are two episodes with numerous similarities. But that isn’t to this films detriment. Anything but. It is a morality tale, with its quirky characters drawn larger than life that sails along. It is funny here and there, but the storyline is carried out with solemnity, and the theme, of not only accepting death, but embracing it, is heartfelt.

Those of an earlier generation are likely to connect it to other “film-blancs” such as Death Takes a Holiday and Here Comes Mr. Jordan, where the afterlife is awash in fluffy clouds and basic forces of the universe are anthropomorphized. Like multiple others in this group, On Borrowed Time is based on a play, and feels like it. The scope is small. We rarely are shown anything beyond Julian’s house and yard. While we are warned of the consequences of a world without death, we do not see them. Everything is shown through the eyes of Julian and a few acquaintances. The film is dialog driven, though I cannot say how closely it matches the lines in the play except that the swearing has been removed for our protection.

Lionel Barrymore dominates every moment, so how much you enjoy the picture will depend on how you feel about his idiosyncratic brand of acting. Barrymore always played Barrymore, which works well if the part fits him. This one does. Julian is caring and witty but also unreasonable and cruel. He’s not a simple man, nor one that is easy to like, and least without some reservations, all of which works in the films favor.

The rest of the cast is superb, particularly Cedric Hardwicke (The Ghoul, The Invisible Man Returns, The Ghost of Frankenstein) and Henry Travers (The Invisible Man, It’s a Wonderful Life). The exception is the child, but that can’t be blamed on the actor as the character is annoying and unrealistic, merging the characteristics of a five-year-old with those of a ten-year-old.

The ending is unexpected, and would no doubt be changed for the worse in a modern remake. They also might change the vaguely explained “experimenting” that the doctor does with animals in order to see if death has been stopped—and I might be in favor of such a change.

 Fantasy, Reviews Tagged with:
Aug 311939
 
two reels

Journalists and romantic couple Carlos (Tomas Perrin Jr.) and Lola (Elena D’Orgaz) investigate the murder of a woman whose heart was cut out, implying she was a sacrifice. Their investigation leads them to the foremost expert on the Aztecs, Dr. Gallardo (Carlos Orellanda) of the museum. He’s also secretly a member of an Aztec cult and has discovered ancient writings that state that the Aztec god, and thus, the Aztec race, can be resurrected by sacrificing four chosen virgins. Gallardo’s assistant Cantinflas (Mario Moreno), as well as museum watchman Medel (Manuel Medel) are unaware of what their boss is up to and find themselves weaving in and out of trouble.

El signo de la muerte brings to mind El superloco from two years earlier, as both are horror comedies where the horror elements are unrelated to the comedy ones. However, in this case, the horror takes precedence (slightly), which is odd as the lead is Cantinflas. Cantinflas was a major star in Mexico, the biggest in comedy for several decades, who came from the Vaudeville-like tent shows that traveled the countryside. His persona was that of a lower class, nonsense-talking jester who would deflate the pompous and mighty. This was his forth film, of around fifty, and he was still developing the character, so he’s toned down a bit here, though he still speaks in circles. His routine was thought to be iconically Mexican, and so, not understandable to those from other cultures. That fits for me as I don’t find him funny, but I also don’t find him annoying, unlike many Vaudeville-turned-movie comics in the US, so maybe I understand enough. Medel was set as his adversary in multiple films as well as on stage, playing another member of the lower classes, but one not so clever.

In El signo de la muerte the two of them wander about, often together, trying to best each other in this and that. They do connect to the rest of the film as far as their characters knowing the others and working close to the big events, but they aren’t a major part of the story. They aren’t trying to solve the mystery, or join with the villains, or aid the heroes. They’re just there. And normally their joking does not include the major players in the story, so the story stops, they do their gags, the story starts up again, then stops again for them to do more gags.

The horror side of things is weakened by the constant starting and stopping that kills the atmosphere, but when it can get going it’s pretty strong stuff for 1939. We see the dagger plunge into a girl’s chest and blood flow, as well as the exposed breasts of one of the sacrifices when her dress is ripped down (apparently only some sacrifices need to be topless). It gives a nice kick to the proceedings. Carlos is a bit bland, but the Aztecs are quite colorful, so over all it works.

Though with the Aztecs we’re getting into some troubling stereotypes that get weirder the more you look into them. The cult is very pulpy, with bare-chested men waving spears around. They are the equivalent to Native Americans waiving tomahawks and saying in broken English to “Scalp ‘em some white men.” But this wasn’t done with blind prejudice. At the time in Mexico, the president and those supporting him were trying to craft a Mexican identity, while also breaking promises made in the revolution. That identity was a merging of the European culture that had invaded and the destroyed civilizations of indigenous peoples. So there was a big movement to connect the government to average Mexicans to Aztecs that they generally had no relationship to. Director Chano Uruta was critical of the government and of claiming this ancient heritage. Thus, Gallardo is a very white looking actor, claiming to be an Aztec, and it goes very wrong, and the Aztecs show up in the most stereotypical, cheap form he could come up with. I don’t know enough about Mexican politics to figure what this all means, but it’s interesting.

Jul 151939
 
two reels

Dr. Henryk Savaard (Boris Karloff) is one of the greatest scientists in the world. He has created a technique to restore a dead body to life which will progress the art of surgery by a thousand year (or maybe a few decades). With the aid of his protĂ©gĂ© Lang (Byron Foulger), he finishes the first part of experiment, to kill a man without harming the tissue, but is interrupted by his hysterical nurse and the dimwitted police, stopping him from reviving the body. He’s arrested, convicted, and hanged for murder. Lang is given his body after the execution, and he revives the doctor, who plans to avenge himself. Six of the jurors are found hung. The remaining people who caused his death, the foolish nurse, DA, medical examiner, police lieutenant, and four jurors are sent telegrams to meet at Savaards old house, where he plans to dispatch them all. But reporter ‘Scoop” Foley (Robert Wilcox) and his daughter Janet (Lorna Gray) may screw up his plans.

How stupid can a person be? And she’s a nurse. OK, so she freaks because her boyfriend has volunteered for a dangerous experiment. Fine. She could throw a fit (she throws a small one, but she could amplify it seven times over) to stop the boyfriend. Or she could sabotage the experiment before hand. But what no one with even the slightest brain would do is stop a medical procedure half way through. It’s mind boggling, and frustrating. And that’s this movie. It’s frustrating, mainly because it has the potential to be a very good B-movie.

Karloff is in great form. He was a fine actor, but particularly good a playing a kind and gentle man (apparently fitting to his personality) and a powerful, avenging force edging on insanity. Here he combines the two into a far more authentic character than these sorts of simple films deserve. He’s the heart and soul of the film. Savaard’s aims are either good and noble, or understandable, depending on where we are in the film. The rest of the cast do their job, but this his Karloff’s film. It was the first of a string of low-budget pictures he’d make for Columbia. It’s also a mad scientist film that doesn’t take the anti-science position. There’s no comment about it being wrong to know what man wasn’t meant to know. Savaard is clearly in the right. The problem comes from lesser minds stopping him.

What I can’t figure is how the studio got so mixed up one how an audience would enjoy this movie. This is a B-movie, and a mad scientist one at that, so it isn’t designed as a deep character study, but as a fun diversion. And with the wonderful character developed by Karloff, and the stupidity and cruelty of almost everyone else in the film, the joy clearly comes from him doing away with the fools. But the last half is written as if we are supposed to be rooting for the idiots, and enjoying their attempts to survive and thwart Savaard. Sure the Production Code wasn’t going to let him get away with murder, but we could, and should, have been given a chance to revel in them. Was there anyone who watched this and thought, “Come on nurse, you must escape as you are my hero” instead of “Oh please die!”

So we have a nicely made film, with some great moments, caped with story twists that sap the catharsis it should have supplied.

May 061939
 
two reels

The queen of France has twin sons, later named Louis XIV and Philippe. The second is kept secret and sent off to be raised by the musketeer D’Artagnan (Warren William), with the aid of three godfathers: Parthos (Alan Hale), Aramis (Miles Mander), and Athos (Bert Roach). The young prince grows to be an evil king (Louis Hayward)m supported by the self-serving Fouquet (Joseph Schildkraut). Philippe (also Louis Hayward) grows to be a rash and rather foolish hero. When the twins meet, it sets in motion a great many incidents.

The Man in the Iron Mask comes from the same novel series as The Three Musketeers, with many of the same characters. The various stories of the Musketeers are the most filmed Swashbucklers, but not the most artistically successful. The films often vary wildly from the source material, and no more so than here as which brother is the good guy is different from the book.

As in most of the Musketeer films, the hero is not just a charming rogue, but an idiot. This gets tiring as he is constantly putting his life in danger as well as those around him for no reason. And while there is something of an overall plot to the movie, the flow is more “stuff that happens because there are royal twins.” That gives the film a lackadaisical feel.

Louis Hayward was a reasonable second-tier adventure lead, appearing in The Son of Monte Cristo (1940) The Return of Monte Cristo (1946), The Black Arrow (1948), The Masked Pirate (1949), Fortunes of Captain Blood (1950), Lady in the Iron Mask (1952), and Captain Pirate (1952). He is passable as Philippe and better as the effete Louis. When he is just this side of crazy he is excellent. Joan Bennett is pleasant eye-candy as the slightly-written princess/romantic interest. She would reteam with Hayward in the superior The Son of Monte Cristo.

The Musketeers have small roles, though Alan Hale makes an impression. He was a Swashbuckling mainstay with a supporting role in The Sea Hawk and three portrayals of Little John: Robin Hood (1922), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), and Rogues of Sherwood Forest (1950). Warren William also makes an impression, but a less favorable one, He is far too stuffy as D’Artagnan and far more suited to the businessman roles that were his bread and butter.

James Whale was a great director for the proper film; he excelled at quirky horror such as Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, and The Invisible man). And here his eye for a scene and work with actors is solid, but he is not an action director. A Swashbuckler needs to sing in its sword fights and Whale can’t manage that, playing tricks with speed that would be at home in silent pictures. Made a year after The Adventures of Robin Hood, the action appears primitive.

I enjoyed The Man in the Iron Mask, but if I’d missed it, that would have been fine as well.

 Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with:
Apr 181939
 
3,5 reels

The Baskerville family has been cursed for centuries by a hound from Hell due to the foul behavior of an ancestor. Recently, Sir Charles Baskerville had died of fright out on the moor. Dr Mortimer (Lionel Atwill), a believer in the supernatural, requests the aid of Sherlock Holmes (Basil Rathbone) and Dr. Watson (Nigel Bruce) to keep the newly arriving heir, Henry (Richard Greene), safe. Holmes can’t leave London, but sends Watson to Baskerville manner. The only other residents of the house are the suspicious butler and housekeeper (John Carradine, Eily Malyon), but there are a few close neighbors besides Mortimer and his wife: amateur archeologist John Stapleton (Morton Lowry) and his attractive sister Beryl (Wendy Barrie), and the overly litigious Frankland (Barlowe Borland). And somewhere on the moor is an escaped maniac.

The Hound of the Baskervilles is the best known Sherlock Holmes adventure, and one of the most popular books ever, which is a little strange since Holmes is missing for about a third. Even more so, it’s not a very good mystery. It’s nearly impossible not to figure out the villain and how he is doing his evil deeds, though a good deal trickier to guess why (is it possible at all?). So as a mystery, it falls short, but as a thriller, or more specifically, as a cinematic Old Dark House story, it comes into its own.

We’ve got an ancient curse and a maniac. We’ve got a group of eccentric characters in a small area, surrounded by deadly moors and the sounds of strange howls. We’ve got a suspicious butler waving a candle in the window at night and an ominous sĂ©ance. We’ve got dim corridors, oversized halls, and unused rooms in a great stone house. And we’ve got mist to cover it all. This is the stuff of horror—a very specific type of horror—and here The Hound of the Baskervilles is at home.

You see it doesn’t matter what happens, but how it is displayed and this adaption knows exactly what to do: An unknown sound heard from a candlelit room. Then the slow turning of the handle. A gun. The door opens. It’s OK, just Henry. But wait, something is happening and he needs help. An advance down a darkened hallway. A light. A man signaling. And on it goes. Yes, atmosphere is trumping content, but the atmosphere is marvelous. It’s non-stop shadows and wind and strange sounds. When our group find a pleasant moment of relaxation, as in the dinner party, it’s clear that they are in a pinpoint of light, with darkness around. Step away from the table and the illusion of safety is gone.

Rathbone controls the role of Holmes, a sharp, obsessed genius, but unlike in his later appearances (when Rathbone was sick of the part), Holmes has a sense of humor. He’s fun, and having fun. Oh he takes his job as a detective seriously, but he also enjoys it, that is until the job’s finished and then he asks for cocaine. This is my favorite of Rathbone’s Holmes movies, containing his best performance, and probably the best appearance of the character in any film. Nigel Bruce’s Watson is a departure from the books, but I find it charming, and some comedy bumbling, as long as it isn’t taken too far, works for a sidekick when the hero is this smart.

Richard Greene is lackluster (strange now to think they gave him top billing), but then Henry isn’t much of a part and Greene is as good as anyone has ever been with it. The rest of the cast do better, particularly Atwill, Carradine, and Malyon, but then they get the weird and wonderful parts, so plenty for them to dig into.

The film follows the book more closely than most versions, and its departures are improvements, at least for a film (with the exception of eliminating Frankland’s daughter as more suspects would be nice, and of the change to Beryl’s status), as they build suspense, which is vital for the movie if not the novel. And those departures never feel out of place.

The Hound of the Baskervilles was the start of a 14 film run for Rathbone as Holmes (my ranking of those 14), and it is easy to see why. This picture as a whole is enjoyable, wrapping you in to it’s never-never-land of evil criminals and super-detectives, but Rathbone is even better. Both for him and for it’s Dark House horror, this is a film to see.

Mar 221939
 
two reels

Det. Inspector Larry Holt of Scotland Yard (Hugh Williams) is assigned the case of multiple drowning that appeared at first to be suicides. Dr. Feodor Orloff (Bela Lugosi) is an insurance agent and philanthropist who supports a home for destitute blind men. He also is running an insurance scam that involves having blind, hulking, and monstrous looking Jake (Wilfrid Walter) kill people who’ve signed their policies over to him. Orloff slips up when one of his victims has a living daughter, Diana Stuart (Greta Gynt). To keep an eye on her, Orloff gets Stuart a job at the charity home, working under blind Professor Dearborn.

The British The Dark Eyes of London, known as The Human Monster in the States, is one of multiple 1930s films that, based on their plot, should be a straight crime film with a few thriller elements, but was given horror trappings when shot. It was based on a novel by Edgar Wallace who was an extremely popular crime novelist of the time, though I only know him as one of the writers on King Kong.

Holt is the main character and a lot of time is spent with him doing police procedural work. And it’s pretty drab. His interactions with Diana are no better—“Hey, let’s bring some girl along on a manhunt.” And his comedy sidekick is out of place with the tone of the film. So I can understand why they wanted to amp up the horror elements. I’d have gone all out and dropped the inspector character altogether as it is with the horror that things come alive.

The house for the blind is a twisted mad house, with the blind men shuffling about as zombies in bizarrely laid out rooms, all topped with a cinematic scientist’s lab. Lugosi is as charismatic as always, but also brutal, committing acts that wouldn’t have made it past pre-production in the U.S., though the British censors got a little jittery as well. Jake makes for a fine brute, clearly molded on the Frankenstein monster.

This is a cheap film, and it suffers for it, with a majority of the sets looking too simple and a camera that tends to just sit there. But then there wasn’t a lot of even medium budget horror being made in ’39, and Lugosi is worth the time.

Mar 151939
 
two reels

Paris is terrified by a murderer and thief known as The Wolf, who is rumored to have some supernatural powers and whose cruel attacks are accompanied by the howl of a wolf. The bank of M. de Brisson (Aubrey Mallalieu) was his last target, giving bank clerk Lucien Cortier (John Warwick) a chance to impress his boss and win his approval for his marriage to Cecile de Brisson (Marjorie Taylor). Unfortunately, slimy businessman Chevalier Lucio del Gardo (Tod Slaughter) also has eyes for Cecile, and he leads a double life as he is The Wolf. Chevalier plans to frame Lucien for his crimes. It’s up to Lucien, and the scientist LeBlanc (Wallace Evennett), who can read the final thoughts of the dead with the magic of “electricity,” to reveal the truth.

Director George King and now-forgotten star Tod Slaughter re-team for another murder melodrama. Slaughter was a stage actor who traveled the country in macabre Victorian melodramas. Subtle was not in his playbook, which worked out well as his flamboyant style was the draw for any work he was in. England’s quota law meant that some all-British-made films were needed quick, and so stage actors suddenly had film careers, and Slaughter was one of the most fun to watch. Unfortunately, while he hams it up in this picture as much as always, Chevalier isn’t as enjoyable a character as his other cinematic fiends, at least till the very end.

It’s strange watching this so soon after Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street as I’d assumed they’d be quite different, but they are essentially the same film. Slaughter’s films all were similar. There’s the young lovers, the girl from a powerful family and the guy who is penniless. The killer enters into a business relationship with her father to pressure him into giving him his daughter. And the killer works with a woman who runs a shop. Our young hero is forced to uncover the killer on his own. It’s not a bad format, but I’ve seen it before, and seen it better.

Lucien and Cecile are sympathetic enough for me to care about them, which makes up for the villain being less fun. And we have a scummy dive bar and plenty of thugs for atmosphere. Most of the time we’re deep into melodrama land, which is entertaining, but also a bit silly. I expect Chevalier to suddenly grab the girl and tie her to the railroad tracks. The horror ramps up at the end as it tries to go for a big finish, making this a mildly amusing way to spend an hour.

 Horror, Poverty Row, Reviews Tagged with:
Mar 141939
 
one reel

Walter Stevens (Lionel Atwill) owes a great deal of money in some kind of sketchy deal. He has also been threatened with death by The Gorilla, a maniac killer who’s been getting lots of news coverage. His niece, Norma (Anita Louise), who is the other heir to the family fortune, arrives at his house along with her fiancĂ©e Jack (Edward Norris). The other inhabitants are Peters the butler (Bela Lugosi) and Kitty the cook (Patsy Kelly). To protect himself from The Gorilla, Stevens hires three frantic private detectives (The Ritz Brothers), who primarily cause problems. One of them run into a mysterious thief (Joseph Calleia) who is aware of the secret passageways in the house. And there’s the possibility that The Gorilla might be an actual ape.

I’ve heard elsewhere that The Ritz Brothers are an acquired taste. So is turpentine, and I can’t imagine acquiring that one either. They have the wit and class of The Three Stooges without the spark. They don’t even have the excuse that they’re an act for kids. They even lack the fun violent gags, instead just howling a lot, acting frightened, mugging for the camera, and falling down. They’ve been called second-rate Marx Brothers, which is an insult to the Marx Brothers. There’s been worse comedy teams but I can’t think of a more pointless one. If they were offensive or deeply obnoxious, then hating them might be interesting, but they’re only childish and tiresome.

Without them this could have been a decent Old Dark House film. It was based on a stage play and had been made previously as a silent film and a now-lost early talkie, so the source material had enough of a story to fill a movie without the unfunny high jinks. They split the character of the PI into three to make it a vehicle for the Ritz Brothers. Atwill, Calleia, and Lugosi are all favorites of mine and all act as if in another type of movie: a light horror film. Lugosi has some funny moments and never slips into over-the-top silliness. Put in a reasonable detective and we’d have had something.

The house is reasonably nice, and filmed with some wonderful shadows (I always have to comment on the quality of the house in an Old Dark House film), but it’s too simple. There ought to be additional rooms upstairs but the filmmakers didn’t built enough sets. This was apparently a troubled production, but that’s no excuse for skimping on their art design.

Big time fans of Lugosi might find enough here to make the brief 66 minutes worthwhile. Anyone else should choose a different Dark House film.

And for those of you keeping track at home, yes, this is another low budget ’30s “horror” film with an ape in it.

 

Mar 111939
 
toxic

It’s back in the good old days when we still had slaves, because that was great. Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) is an obnoxious, mentally-deficient, self-absorbed tourette-sufferer who we should love because she has a hot bod and is a bitch, which equals sexy. In their slave paradise, she’s surrounded by people like Melanie—who’s a Madonna, because due to the production code, no whores were allowed, so a woman could only be a Madonna or a bitch—and Ashley, who is too placid to actually be defined as a person. Then along comes Rhett Butler. He’s a bad boy. A very bad boy. If he went to high school in the 1950s, he’d be wearing a black leather jacket. Naturally the bitchy woman-child/head cheerleader wants a piece of that bad boy, even if he displays very little personality. But then a real problem crops up: the Civil War. That war is going to take away those happy, happy slaves and screw up our woman-child’s obsession with dirt. You know, thousands upon thousands of people are dying, but this rich girl might not be able to live like a princess any more so, you know, priorities. She wins her bad boy, and then half the film happens, but no one cares about any of that till the last line.

As a review, there’s not a lot of point in looking at the most popular film ever made. You’ve undoubtedly already seen it. Everyone has. It is a trash fire of low-rent melodrama and is morally repugnant, but it is popular. But as I’m working through The Foscars (fixing the Oscars), I need to talk about it. So here goes.

Gone With the Wind is two tales twisted together. It is a high school melodrama about the mean girl and her obsession with the bad boy, and it is an eulogy for the Old-South, bathing in how great it was when White people had slaves and the upper classes were properly lording over the little people. Let me put a pin on the Lost Cause celebration and look at the melodrama.

“Melodrama” is not a neutral expression. It’s a negative one. It describes drama where clichĂ©s rule, emotions are pumped up to eleven, acting is false, and everything is sensationalized beyond what is natural or fitting for the material. As it is removed from actual human behavior, melodrama rarely has anything to say about its characters. Melodramas can be fun, like rollercoasters—not something you heap accolades upon as important achievements. Its modern cousins are not indie dramas, but TV soap operas. “Next Week, on Gone With the Wind, Scarlett causes a scandal at the ball while Ashley dashes her hopes by turning to her cousin.” Subtle is not a term for Gone With the Wind. Cinematic super heroes are more restrained. They are also more realistic and human. The plot is so overblown, so ridiculous, and so never-ending (my god is it long—easily an hour should be cut) that I’d laugh if it didn’t tire me out. The entire second half is just tragedies heaped on these terrible people for the sake of heaping tragedies on them.

But a pitiful plot can be overcome if everything else works. Which leads to the dialog. Ignoring the final line—which is memorable—it is terrible. Forget Rhett as he doesn’t get to say much and when he does it is “bad boy” speech. Scarlett rules the film and her lines are painful. Try them. Recite them yourself. But they escape the derision they deserve due to one of the things the film did right: Vivien Leigh. No, she doesn’t act realistically—that wouldn’t work it this film. No, she doesn’t pull off sounding human. But she does make it all less silly. She has the skill of saying ridiculous things and making them sound less ridiculous. Her easy control of sexuality helps. If you make every line sexy, people will dwell more on the cherry red lips than the words coming out of them.

The rest of the cast doesn’t work as well. Clark Gable was never much of an actor, but that’s OK as he isn’t asked to do much here. He just has to stand and squint a bit and play the bad boy. Any actor with the physical stature could pull it off. Poor Olivia de Havilland comes off much worse, but then she has nothing to work with. She’s stuck with the role of a plaster saint. I guess that beats offensive racial stereotype, which is Butterfly McQueen’s part. But she ends up less embarrassing than Leslie Howard. Even die hard defenders of this atrocity back down on Howard. Has an actor ever been so poorly cast? He excelled as the slightly smarmy, elitist intellectual. His Henry Higgins in 1938’s Pygmalion puts all later attempts to shame and raises that film over My Fair Lady, even without the songs. His wandering poet in The Petrified Forest is nearly as good. But simpering hero wasn’t in his bag. He just looks uncomfortable, and I don’t mean Ashley; I mean Howard. It is a monumentally bad performance that would sink a better film.

I’ve heard the idea that the Oscar is for the production (the original title of the award was “Outstanding Production” and the producer is the recipient), not the film, so Gone With the Wind earns its awards. Sure, the movie stinks, but the production was outstanding. Like a CEO of a tech firm, David O. Selznick created a huge project and oversaw a million parts and pieces. He pulled together an army of workers and assigned them their tasks. He empowered the best costumers (I’ve no problem with that nomination) and set designers and builders. He organized a city. And he brought in a ton of money and knew where to spend it. He signed up Max Steiner for the score. I’m not the fan of the theme music that some are, but it isn’t bad. Well, it isn’t bad if you occasionally turn it down, but Gone With the Wind functions on the idea that no moment can’t be enhanced by bombastic, overbearing music. And Selznick was all about bombast. That’s what he wanted. He wanted a sick, stupid romance and a glorification of the slave-filled South and he wanted it with fireworks and he got exactly what he wanted. Yeah, the film is terrible, but the production of it is impressive.

Now, back to the foundational message—the Lost Cause. No American film besides Birth of a Nation has done more harm than Gone With the Wind. A proportion of oppression, lynchings, and the still too visible racial divide in the US can be traced to Gone With the Wind. Books and scholarly revisionism have their power, but to really get the populous on board you need pop art, and that means a movie, and that means Gone With the Wind.

The Lost Cause was (and unfortunately still is) a movement focused on excusing and ignoring any wrongs done by the South before and during the Civil War. It takes on a false narrative of noble knight-type Confederate soldiers, fighting for honor, justice, and the Southern way of life. Their cause was impossible due purely to the greater financial power of the North, but they took up the sword anyway, destined to lose, because it was the honorable thing to do. This view paints the antebellum South as a near paradise, with all the rich White men as perfect gentlemen and rich White woman as beautiful belles. In this view, slavery was barely a thing at all, and to the degree that slaves lacked freedom, it was all to the good as it helped them to move from their savage natures. In the Lost Cause fantasy, slaves were all happy and slave owners were benevolent. Those supporting this view simply ignore earlier writings and even the secession documents so as to make the Civil War completely unrelated to slavery. The Lost Cause created mythic character-types and was used to justify the actions of Southerners and as a way to more easily integrate back into the United States after the war. Of course to do that, Blacks had to be left out in the cold. The Lost Cause makes apologies unnecessary and eliminates any responsibility for the freed slaves. What’s more, since slavery was good for them, it allowed Whites to view Blacks as the wild beasts that they had, in good conscience, held back from their inborn flaws. And thus, any hope of equality of treatment was dashed. The country has yet to recover.

And Gone With the Wind is seeped in the Lost Cause. A majority of the characters come straight from the playbook. Noble gray knight? Check. Happy slaves? Check. Evil Northerners out to destroy the pure way of life? Check. Glowing Southern Belles? Check. Gone With the Wind presents Eden, with everything terrible that happens due to not letting the South and its proper way of life (and slaves) alone. It doesn’t record how the South actually was, but celebrates a fantasy vision of a time best left in the past. It glorifies a sad time, and ignorant people, and immoral philosophies.

I can’t claim Gone With the Wind is a terrible film due to its terrible message. I can condemn it, but that’s a different matter. In fact, I’m forced to give it points. Like Triumph of the Will that made millions cheer for Nazis, Gone With the Wind is effective in communicating its toxic message, and that effectiveness must be given its due. A worse film would have failed to make its point. Unfortunately, this film didn’t fail.

So what we have is a beautifully produced and skillfully constructed malevolent swamp, upon which is sitting a silly, overwrought and yet at times terribly slow, and unduly long melodrama where simple and unpleasant cutout characters recite ridiculous lines that mean very little.

Mar 061939
 
three reels

Ten years after the death of eccentric Cyrus Norman, the family converge on his bayou mansion, cared for by Miss Lu (Gale Sondergaard), for the reading of his will by lawyer Crosby (George Zucco). The potential heirs include radio personality Wally Campbell (Bob Hope), beautiful actress Joyce Norman (Paulette Goddard), aunts Susan and Cicily (Elizabeth Patterson and Nydia Westman), suave Charlie Wilder (Douglass Montgoery). and perpetually grumpy Fred Blythe (John Beal). None of them can leave until morning, which is troubling as Miss Lu claims there are spirits in the house, shown by the blinking lights, and they are informed that a maniac known as The Cat has escaped and is in the area.

The Old Dark House may have provided the name for the spook-house mystery sub-genre, but The Cat and the Canary was the most successful. A stage play first, it was adapted into a popular and stylish silent film in 1927. Two versions were made in 1930, one in Spanish, but both of those are lost, with a final horrible version coming out in 1978. The 1939 version keeps the horror aspect, but adds to it straightforward jokes from Bob Hope. His character was written specifically for Hope and matches his radio persona of the time. He even references movies and plays to explain what’s happening, and recites a joke supposedly stolen from the Jack Benny Show. His patter is passable fun, but the gags never rise any higher, making me think they should have just made a horror film.

The rest of the cast play it reasonably straight. Unfortunately their characters are a bit silly (not believing each other, separating, starting manly-men fights when they should be worried about a murderer, trying to solve a crime when all they need to do is wait till morning). All of which makes me feel less frightened for these people and more annoyed by them.

It’s shot nicely, if clearly studio bound, with sharp shadows and high contrast, but I’ve come to expect something more spectacular in the art design of Dark House pictures. The house isn’t very interesting. From the outside it looks great, but the interiors look like any other sets of the time. It’s fine, but fine isn’t enough.

For family entertainment on a Halloween afternoon, The Cat and the Canary will do nicely. But that’s all it is.

Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard returned a year later for another Old Dark House film, The Ghost Breakers.

Feb 151939
 
two reels

Julio CĂ©sar NapoleĂłn (Enrique Herrera) is a high-strung writer of radio thriller plays. His doctor sends him away for a rest, using the name Justiniano ConquiĂĄn to disguise his fame. However he mistakes an old dark mansion for the sanitarium and he is mistaken for the heir to a fortune, whose name is coincidentally Justiniano ConquiĂĄn, and who, by the terms of the will, is required to stay in the spooky house. The other heirs are assembled there, and have planned to drive Justiniano insane by frightening him so that they can inherit. However, Julio misinterprets their attempts, as well as other unsettling events, as part of his doctor’s elaborate treatment plan, even when people start to die.

Cada loco con su tema shouldn’t be on any list of horror films; it’s a comedy. But I couldn’t ignore it as it’s horror-adjacent in two ways. Writer-director-producer Juan Bustillo Oro is considered the father of Mexican horror and this was his last gothic-tinged film of the 1930s. And it takes many of the motifs of horror, particularly Old Dark House horror. We have an old dark house complete with secret passageways, a will, the assembled quirky relatives, talk of hauntings and ghosts, and a killer gorilla (1930s cinema had a fascination with gorillas). But it doesn’t fit even into the subcategory of Old Dark House horror, which is often barely horror, due to its structure. We’re given all the answers at the beginning, so we know that nothing is spooky or mysterious. It’s an odd way to plot a film—I’d have thought it would work better for us to follow the Julio and just know what he knows. But the plot wasn’t the point, just the gags. It isn’t surprising. World cinema had been avoiding horror for several years due to censorship, sensitive critics, and the escalating world war, so Cada loco con su tema takes pains to separate itself from anything that might be considered frightening,

This is Bustillo’s most technically sophisticated film. It looks great, the sets are detailed and attractive, and star Enrique Herrera is funny, despite, or perhaps because of, his broad performance. Unfortunately, the editing, kills what could have been a very amusing film. It’s nearly two hours long. How many frothy comedies are two hours long? It’s easily thirty minutes too long and I could spot where the cuts needed to have been made in most every scene. Each joke is stated, then restate, then elongated before being stated again. Then it’s repeated. There’s funny stuff here but jokes do not get better the more often they are told or the longer they take to be told. And as we know what’s going on (remember, everything is spelled out at the beginning so there are no surprises), we can anticipate every joke. The only way to pull that off would be to get in and out quickly. It’s very disappointing as I can see a good film that’s been overfed. A strict diet and Cada loco con su tema would have been a keeper.

Feb 111939
 
three reels

spooktrein

A Joker pulls the emergency cord to stop the train in order to retrieve his hat that had flown out a window. This causes the train to arrive at the station late, and with no other trains coming until morning, stranding a group of passengers. Besides the Joker, the group include a newly Married Couple, a Cute Girl traveling with an Earnest Man, a teetotaling, Prissy Lady with a parrot, and a Doctor. They are warned by the Station Master that the station is haunted and that a ghost train comes by at night, and if they want to survive, they need to leave. They refuse, and the Station Master abandons them in fear of the ghosts. What follows is a string of spooky events, including a death and then the disappearance of the corpse, strange sounds and lights, the arrival of a crazed woman, and the passage of the ghost train itself.

ghosttrainplay

The Ghost Train was a very popular British play. Written by Arnold Ridley in 1923, it had a successful run and has seen numerous revivals. It was adapted for the screen in 1927 in a British-German coproduction, and like so many other Dark House movies, it was remade once sound was in place just a few years later, in 1931, this time just by the British. Next, in 1933, came two from the European continent, the Romanian Trenul fantomă and Hungarian KisĂ©rtetek Vonata. The French Un Train Dans La Nuit was released in 1934, but that one will get no more discussion here as no prints are known to survive. In 1939 the Dutch joined in with De Spooktrein. And finally the Brits took it back in 1941. There have been four more official versions since then, and a number more that “borrowed” from it, but I’ll stick with the years from ’31 to ‘41.

It’s surprising how much alike the five surviving films are. The basic plot is exactly the same, with all the same major events occurring in the same order, and with few changes to even the minor ones. While the character names change (I’ll use descriptive names for each), their personalities shift only a bit. Footage is even shared between three of them, and the 1941 version had the same director as the 1931, so perhaps it isn’t that surprising.

The Ghost Train is an Old Dark House story transplanted to a railway station. The characters are properly quirky, there’s a dead body and strange lights and talk of ghosts, plenty of comic relief, and an eerie atmosphere. The story line is entertaining enough, and certainly has been popular. The characters are not complex or deeply developed, but rather were intended to represent a cross section of British society in the 1920s, thus supplying a bit of commentary while also being easy to identify. Everything is here for a thoroughly entertaining film. However, a few flaws are inherent to the structure that have been magnified in different productions. The story is good, but it’s brief, at least as executed in all five films (I’ve never seen the play and am curious how it fills nearly two hours). There’s approximately an hour’s worth of material. When an adaptation gets much over that, it drags. As the story was written for the stage, there’s a tendency to replicate that a bit too closely. I’m not a fan of opening up a film for no purpose when made into a movie, but most of these renditions could be converted back into a stage play without making any changes. A few more locations or some clever manipulation of the camera to better tell the tale would be nice. But inventive cinematography is not in abundance. Also, the Joker is supposed to be annoying to the other passengers, but he can easily become annoying to the audience. And if the film features him as the lead instead of part of the ensemble, as several do, he can become downright unpleasant.

How do the individual adaptations fare?
The Dutch De Spooktrein is more stylish than the previous versions, but then it is 1939, and there had been technological leaps in filmmaking in six years. The station doesn’t look like stage set, but feels real; it’s also spookier. Generally the filmmaking is a step up, and while De Spooktrein show’s its stage roots, the story has finally been given a true conversion for film. And again, this is a shorter film. While it cannot be called swiftly paced, at under 70 minutes, it doesn’t drag. I suspect some of the improvements can be attributed to having a more skilled director: Karel Lamac. He’d been forced out of Czechoslovakia and Germany, so found himself in the Netherlands. This led to the movie getting a mixed reaction in its homeland. The Dutch were feeling nationalistic (hard to blame them with the Nazi’s next door) and De Spooktrein didn’t feel like a Dutch movie to them.

For the first time, there’s been a change to the characters. The Cute Girl and her Earnest Companion have become a Magician’s Assistant and an incompetent Magician. He combines the grouchiness he had in previous versions with a few of the Joker’s antics. He’s also a bit of a coward. While the Prissy Lady hasn’t changed, she has been given a more dominate role in the first section. It’s through her that we meet the other characters (she wants to change compartments to get away from smokers) and it’s the loss of her parrot that causes the train to stop instead of the Joker’s hat. Both of these changes turn out, somewhat surprisingly, to be for the good. The Earnest Man never had much of a character, and although this turns him into even more of a cliché—clearly a figure we are not supposed to like—it gives him a personality, as well as activity. And more of the Prissy Lady makes the outlandish behavior of the Joker more acceptable. She’s so unlikable that his pranks and silliness feel not only acceptable, but the sort of thing I’d like to do in the situation.

While The Ghost Train is, by nature, an ensemble piece, the Joker tends to steal the spotlight. Not so here. This is a much more balanced film. Every character gets a moment to shine, and I knew them all much better when it was done. While the ending is essentially the same, more characters are involved with what happens, which gives it the most satisfying climax, and makes it a satisfying adaptation.

Which makes 1939’s De Spooktrein the version to see. Follow that up with KisĂ©rtetek Vonata. For English-only speakers, it’s time for subtitles, or read the play first and muddle through.