Feb 211941
 
three reels

A feud between two powerful families results in the Franchi’s being wiped out except for the just-born Siamese twin sons of the Franchi patriarch. The twins are separated, and to keep them safe one is raised in the woods as a bandit while the other is raised in Paris. Twenty years later Lucien and Mario (both Douglas Fairbanks Jr.), along with the Franchi servant (J. Carrol Naish) are brought together to plot vengeance on the man who killed their parents, Baron Colonna (Akim Tamiroff). The twins are both aided and thwarted by Lucien’s ability to feel what happens to Mario, and by their duel attraction to Countess Isabelle (Ruth Warrick).

The fourth in a series of Alexandre Dumas-based, independently produced Swashbucklers, following The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), The Man in the Iron Mask (1939), and The Son of Monte Cristo (1940), The Corsican Brothers, like those others, is nicely filmed on a small budget. That works well for conversations and slow moments, but this is a Swashbuckler. Action scenes cost money as do special effects for rear projection and split screens. That money is missing, making the fights a bit silly.

The film’s advantage is Fairbanks. He was one of the more charismatic actors of the time and could have been one of the great Swashbuckling leads. He looks natural with a sword in his hand and can handle the patter effortlessly. Unfortunately WWII took him away from acting in his prime. This was his last film for six years. I wish it could have been a film to elevate him (as his one great Swashbuckler, The Prisoner of Zenda, did), instead of one that required him to elevate it. The passable direction, classic story, and amiable cast give enough support to Fairbanks to create an enjoyable afternoon romp.

I’d forgotten that The Princess Bride borrows from this film, both in the general torture subplot, and in the specific framing and blocking of the swordsman’s return from death.

Jan 191941
 
one reel

Rich, eccentric Hanrietta Winslow (Cecilia Loftus) lives on her estate with her house keeper Abigail (Gale Sondergaard), groundskeeper Eduardo (Bela Lugosi), and an excessive number of cats. Her greedy relatives (Basil Rathbone, Anne Gwynne, Gladys Cooper , Claire Dodd, John Eldredge, Alan Ladd) have infested the place, waiting for her to die. They are joined by old acquaintance Hubert Smith (Broderick Crawford) and comic relief Mr. Penny (Hugh Herbert) who hope to make some money off of the estate. Hanrietta is murdered, but only Hurbert believes that, so it is up to him find the killer.

With fabulous cinematography by Stanley Cortez, a chilling and exciting score by Hans J. Salter and Frank Skinner, and a cast including Lugosi, Sondergaard, and Rathbone, how could things go so wrong?

Well, under-using those three is a start. Lugosi’s few moments should be considered a cameo. Making Broderick Crawford—a limited actor whose strength lay in cruel thug roles—the romantic lead was the next step. Far worse is never-funny Hugh Herbert. Really, not a single gag of his lands, and that’s all he does is these goofy gags where he makes whistling sounds and stumbles about; it made me side with the nasty family as we were both joined in our loathing for him.

But it all comes down to the script, the horrible, horrible script. Eric Taylor and Robert Neville had written a standard mystery, but with the success of recent horror-comedies, Universal tossed it to Robert Lees and Frederic Rinaldo—who’d previously done some horror-to-comedy script conversions—to work their crude “magic” on The Black Cat. It’s not a shock the result is a mess. The mystery doesn’t work. We’re way past loopholes. What’s suggested as an answer is impossible, with the killer apparently chosen at random, the actions of the titular cat are not explained, and multiple things happen for no reason. But that could be overlooked if the characters were worth a second of time, or if the dialog was witty, or if it was ever funny. And the last point is the killer. No part of this horror comedy is humorous. With some major comic talent in the lead role (the sort that knows how to tell a joke and when to adlib a better one), this might have worked. But Crawford couldn’t fix this, and no one else had a chance.

Nov 011940
 
three reels

Prince Ahmad (John Justin) is betrayed by his vizier, Jaffar (Conrad Veidt), and imprisoned. He escapes with the help of Abu (Sabu), a young thief, and together they see a princess (June Duprez) that Ahmad falls in love with. She is the daughter of the Sultan (Miles Malleson), and Jaffar wants her, so he magically blinds Ahmad and turns Abu into a dog. Ahmad and Abu must counter the spell, save the princess, and defeat Jaffar, and to do so, they will meet a Genie (Rex Ingram), fly a carpet, and battle monsters.

Alexander Korda set out to make a lush, visually stunning homage to the silent film of the same name, dumping most of the story, but keeping the feel of adventure. In that, he succeeded, but with his attention focused on epic wonder, he fumbled the characters.  Films of the ‘90s and later are often accused of forgetting old silver screen values and putting special effects, costumes, and sets above story, theme, and characters. Well, it’s hardly a new phenomenon, and The Thief of Bagdad is the poster child for spectacle first. It is a beautiful film, with remarkable map paintings creating mountains around a well stuffed Bagdad (generally spelled Baghdad now, but one should never contradict movie spellings). Every frame is jammed with the sights of a fantasy Arabia. With a film this gorgeous, a few flaws can be forgiven. The dramatic and lilting score by Miklós Rózsa supports the incredible Technicolor images such that you can enjoy the picture without ever thinking about those characters.

What holds The Thief of Bagdad back from greatness was Korda’s desire to use Sabu as the thief. That meant taking the original part and splitting it. Ahmad, now a prince, has had his roguish side removed, making him bland, and strangely bratty. Sabu takes on the scoundrel side of the title character, but as he is (supposed to be) a child, its sanitized. And Sabu was no child. He grew over the long production (so much so that early scenes had to be reshot), but Korda wanted him the way he’d been in Elephant Boy, three years earlier, so Abu is written as if he is a pre-teen. Thus instead of a rollicking adventure film for all ages, we have a kids movie, where everyone is too simple and too one-note.

It doesn’t help that the romantic leads are not the protagonists. Things happen to them; they do not act. But then their entire romance is hard to take, even in a fantasy. They both fall in love at first sight.  Ahmad is captured, rescued, struck blind, brought to the palace, tossed up on a faraway shore, found, and tossed back to Bagdad and never once does anything. The princess just stands around (when she’s not in a coma) and looks sad and pretty. I started to think Jaffar ought to win as at least he’s trying. Abu is pretty active, but it’s hard to figure out why. He wants to go off with Sinbad early on, and I can’t come up with a reason why he doesn’t. Justin, Duprez, and Sabu have nothing to work with a weren’t skilled enough to find something between the lines.

Veidt, Malleson, and Ingram do better, both because they were better actors and because their parts had something to dig into.

The feature’s production problems are famous. Filming was moved from Britain to the U.S. due to the war, and six different directors had their hands in, including Michael Powell (the lush color and exquisite look of the film has Powell’s fingerprints).  But a lack of a coherent vision is not the film’s problem. Producer Korda held fast to the reins. Rather everyone, or I should say Korda, often had the wrong vision.  The camera dwells on the lavishness of the sets, leaving the characters as nothing more than another piece of the background.  In one case, the princess rides from the palace in frantic haste, frightened. But we don’t see her emotional state, or even her face. Instead we are given a long shot of what could be any girl on a horse, allowing us to view the street and buildings.

I may sound harsh about what is a good film, but it should have been better. When so much goes so right, I want a masterpiece. This is lovely to look at, but disappointing.

Modern audiences should note how much Disney swiped from The Thief of Bagdad for the animated Aladdin. There’s the evil Jaffar who runs the kingdom (Disney’s version even looks like Conrad Veidt), a beautiful princes with an infantile Sultan-father who loves toys, a sidekick named Abu who steals and is non-human (well, he’s only a dog for part of The Thief of Bagdad, while he’s a monkey or elephant for all of Aladdin), a powerful Genie, a flying carpet, and an item to be taken from a trapped temple.

Back to Fantasy

Oct 081940
 
two reels

Tumak (a chest-shaven Victor Mature) gets kicked out of the perpetually grumpy Rock tribe by its perpetually grumpy leader (Lon Chaney Jr.) and floats down the river to be found by the ubbermen (and women) of the shell tribe.  Loana (Carole Landis), the local hotty who has invented hair care, takes a liking to this svelte hunk of man meat, but his inability to understand sharing (see, kindergarten is important) sends them both into the wilderness alone, to battle giant iguanas, oversized armadillos (really, armadillos), and the Rock tribe, that’s still grumpy.  I’m sure that volcano in the background won’t cause any problems…

Hal Roach, Hal Roach Jr., and D.W. Griffith combine their talents to create the definitive caveman movie.  “Definitive” does not mean good, simply defining.  Yup, every troglodyte film cliché is here:  the evil hairy cavemen, the good Aryans, the elaborate hairdo and miniskirt on the lead female, the grunting, the mixing of dinosaurs and prehistoric mammals, the monster trapping the weak humans in a cave, and of course, the volcano.  They were all repeated in movie after movie, and were often done better, but they were done here first.

I can’t say watching One Million BC isn’t fun.  It’s hard to stop laughing, which is what one should expect from one of  Hal “The Little Rascals” Roach’s pictures, except this isn’t a comedy.  Well, not intentionally.  I have this sad feeling that everyone involved thought they were making an epic.  Or maybe it was just a cash grab.  Either way, it’s a pretty sorry piece of filmmaking filled with plenty to laugh at.  See the amazing two dimensional jungle.  Marvel at the non-stop grunting and incessant chest pounding (yes, yes, “You Tarzan.” I get it).  Be astounded as mankind invents good table manners.  And quiver at the acting.  Yes, I said “quiver.”  Victor Mature, later known as “The Hunk,” started his less than illustrious career here, not that his grunting is any worse than anyone elses.  Carole Landis is cute in her nice, neat, cave-girl outfit, but is harder to take seriously than Mature.  She proves that prostitution was not the world’s oldest profession.  Hair styling beats it by centuries.

Since this is a caveman vs. dinosaur story (don’t dwell on historical or scientific accuracy; you’ll just hurt yourself), there needs to be some dinos, and there are…kinda.  Enter the slurpasaurs (a modern term for the results of the cinematic practice of gluing horns and fins onto living reptiles and projecting them at enlarged sizes to represent dinosaurs).  All kinds of lizards, and a few mammals, stand in for the giants.  This trick might have worked for an audience with a significant degree of suspension of disbelief, if anyone involved in filming had the slightest notion of how to put spear-wielding humans and the slurps in a frame together.  The fights are comical, and tend to consist of close-ups of a caveman thrusting a stick at the camera, followed by a shot of the head of the beast.

It’s hard to say if the use of slurpasaurs eventually died out because audiences would no longer accept it in action pictures, or because of legal difficulties due to the animal abuse involved.  It certainly was cruel, which is best demonstrated in One Million BC when a baby alligator (or crocodile, I can never tell which is which) with a large rubber fin attached to its back, fights a lizard, and real bites and death rolls are exchanged.  Pressure from anti-cruelty organizations did make filming slurps tricky, so the footage from One Million BC  was simply used over and over again, in at least ten films and several early TV shows.

If you are writing a paper for your sophomore film history class on the caveman subgenre, on the development of special effects, or on the filmography of Victor Mature or Hal Roach, then One Million BC  will be of interest.  If not, you’ll never miss it, but it is just amusing enough to sit through for a laugh.

 Giant Monsters, Reviews Tagged with:
Oct 061940
 

The Four Bennet Daughters (Dutch – 1961) two reels
Pride and Prejudice (1967) two reels
Pride and Prejudice (A&E – 1995) five reels
Pride & Prejudice (2005) four reels
Pride and Prejudice (BBC – 1980) three reels
Pride and Prejudice (1940) 3,5 reels
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016) three reels
Pride and Prejudice: A Latter Day Comedy (2003) one reel
Bride and Prejudice (2004) two reels
Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001) four reels

A classic novel by Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice is the story of Lizzie, the brightest and second oldest of the five Bennet sisters. The Bennets are a caring family at the bottom rung of the upper class with a problem that is forever on Mrs. Bennet’s mind: how do you acquire suitable husbands for so many girls. Things look up when wealthy Mr. Bingley takes the nearby estate and shows an interest in the eldest girl, Jane. Unfortunately, he brings with him his much richer, but unpleasant friend, Darcy. Darcy is rude and haughty, and Lizzie finds him the most detestable man she has ever met. Her opinion is supported by Mr. Wickham, a handsome soldier that knows Darcy from the past. Darcy’s behavior devolves further when he breaks up Bingley and Jane because her family is unsuitable. Thus, it comes as a shock to Lizzie when Darcy professes his love for her, and asks for her hand. Of course she refuses, which comes as a shock to him. It all seems straightforward, but perhaps the prejudices of both Lizzie and Darcy have them viewing good people poorly and corrupt ones as noble. Additionally, it is possible, with the proper motivation, for people to change.

Pride and Prejudice, the book, is a romance, satire, and comedy. Adaptations tend to keep all three of those properties, though the percentages change. Every version wishes to be a romance first, cutting as little as possible and occasionally adding shots that might have shocked Austen. Both the satire and comedy are not treated as quite so holy. In a few cases, the comedy is dialed up, but it is more common to decrease both.

The biggest trick in adapting the book for the screen is that film is much more objective than literature. A novel is generally slanted by the point of view of the protagonist; unless the filmmaker takes elaborate steps (see anything by Davie Lynch), what you see on the screen represents reality. But Austen was particularly prone to masking reality. On the page, Darcy’s unpleasantness is filtered through Lizzie’s eyes, making it very plausible that he isn’t, as Lizzie sees him to be, the biggest jerk in the world. It is her prejudice at work. But on the screen, if Darcy looks like an ass, then he really IS an ass.


Pride and Prejudice (1940) – Greer Garson/Laurence Olivier

Anyone bothered by the changes from the novel in the versions I review below will enter a state of apoplexy with this one. That doesn’t mean it isn’t charming, just different.

The satire has faded away in the face of romance and humor. This is a frothy, funny take on the material, much in the style of the romantic comedies of the era. The advertisement suggested: Bachelors beware! Five gorgeous beauties are on a madcap manhunt! A bit misleading as the movie never enters the land of screwball comedy, but you are definitely working with a different tone.

Also in keeping with those times, the actresses are too old for their parts. No wonder Mrs. Bennet was panicking when she’s got an unmarried thirty-six-year-old daughter in the house. Wickham’s ability to talk a twenty-year-old into an illicit encounter also seems less scandalous.

Even age-challenged, Greer Garson makes a delightful Lizzie. Smart, sharp, and attractive, she’s more of an ideal 1940s woman than an 1820s one, but an ideal woman is an ideal woman, so let’s not get picky. Edmund Gwenn (Miracle on 34th Street) is a more than amiable Mr. Bennet and Mary Boland makes even Mrs. Bennet sympathetic. Melville Cooper (The Adventures of Robin Hood, The King’s Thief) takes on a defrocked Mr. Collins (the production code forbid disparaging men of the cloth) and simpers as only he can, and Edna May Oliver gives us the only version of Lady Catherine de Bourgh that I would like to meet. In the largest alteration of any character, Lady Catherine becomes a loving aunt to Darcy with sensibilities from another age.

As a romantic-comedy, the 1940 Pride and Prejudice works because of the changes to Darcy. Laurence Olivier does a fine job bringing him to life, but it’s the script that’s more important. It makes this by far the most pleasant Darcy. Yes, he’s pompous and arrogant, but in an easily forgivable way. He’s what you wish for in 1940s hero, but he has no connection to a man of the early 1800s. Watch this for a Golden Age rom-com, not for Jane Austen.


De vier dochters Bennet {aka The Four Bennet Daughters} (1961) – Lies Franken/Ramses Shaffy

Yet another non-English language version of Pride & Prejudice, this Dutch six-part mini-series was broadcast four years after the Italian one, but unlike it, is based on a BBC production in the ‘50s, taking it’s script and translating it (as no copies of the English script exist, I can’t say how much was altered in the translation. It’s no surprise that I can find little of Austen’s dialog once we swap languages, and then swap back in subtitles. For the most part, what’s said means the same as in the book; it just isn’t as nicely formed.

As best as I can determine, the series was broadcast partly live, with extensive pre-shot scenes. This limited sets and camera angles, and allows for a few dialog mistakes. I’m sure they had reason for doing it live, but it doesn’t create an attractive version, with everything taking place on a few small sets.

As the title suggests, we’ve lost a daughter, merging Mary and Kitty.  Mr. Bennet is mainly concerned with playing jokes on his family; the basis for that is in the book, but not to this degree. Mr. Collins has been toned down to the point that almost like him. I can believe both he and his wife will be happy in their marriage. I also feel sorry for him, as Lady Catherine forces him to cut down his prized beans because they are too lofty and he must know his place. I can’t come up with a reason why we needed a scene of Mr. Collins in despair, but we have one. Mr. Wickham has also undergone a change. Gone is the charismatic seducer, replaced by a rough thug.

Lizzy (the subtitles start with that spelling but later switch to “Lizzie”) has has more edge, being nearly as rude as Caroline Bingley. She’s bordering on unpleasant. The same cannot be said for Mr. Darcy, who is open and friendly (he is, however, unaware that others can overhear his private conversations from two feet away—remember, cramped sets). Darcy smiles frequently, laughs, and is generally pleasant. This is Fun Darcy, and Pride and Prejudice is a bit odd with so much less pride than normal for him. Lizzy has picked it all up. This is the only version of the story where I like Darcy more than Lizzy. The first proposal scene is bizarre, with everything explained and them departing as friends. The same events may take place, though sometimes combined, but it feels very different.

Darcy is also clearly obsessed with Lizzy from the start, and says so whenever possible. But then everything is clearer. Everyone is more direct, so direct that I’m surprised we don’t get a few murders. These are not folks who are concerned with proper etiquette or clearly speaking around a topic. When they’ve got something to say, they say it.

Each segment begins with a reading from one of the daughter’s diaries–Mostly Lizzy’s–to get you up to date on what’s happened in previous installments. But starting with the fourth, there is an additional, comical intro. These start odd, and get odder, giving us puppets in the sixth.

This is interesting as a curiosity. I can’t wholeheartedly recommend it, particularly at over 4 hours, but if you have been wondering what the story would be like with a all-heroic, all kindly Mr. Darcy, it could be worth your time.


Pride and Prejudice (1967) – Celia Bannerman/Lewis Fiander

Three previous TV adaptations are lost (I’ve heard that the hour long ’49 version exists, but cannot I cannot find it), leaving this the earliest existing English-language television version you are likely to be able to watch. Six episodes, at under 25 minutes each, makes this a short mini-series, though longer than the theatrical adaptations. It manages to hit most of the story points, though the details are whittled, yet it strikes me as more of a reflection of Pride and Prejudice than the real thing. The dialog approaches that of Jane Austen, and sometimes crosses it, but often runs far away. Have no fear if you find the book occasionally complex as all dialog has been simplified such that everything is obvious, and extra scenes are added to over-clarify. If it’s possible to spell things out, then they will be spelled out. Think of it as a child’s version—a competently made child’s version, but one none the less.

While the first quarter follows the book reasonably well in plot, the emphasis is on Mrs. Bennet and the Bingley sisters. Caroline Bingley’s desire to return to London is of greater importance than anything dealing with Lizzie. Even in later sections, Miss Bingley gets an outsized amount of attention. Maybe that’s why Mary Bennet gets none. She’s missing; there are only four Bennet daughters.

Darcy is unrecognizable and variable in disposition. He’s more of a rom-com Darcy, a bit of a playboy, who smiles and smirks and loves word play. It makes him more likable in general, but it throws his stern moments into sharp relief, making him unhinged. But he’s not the worst Darcy. Lizzie also has her edges sanded down, and I find her a pleasant heroine.

The comedy is toned down; much is mildly amusing, but little is funny. Mr. Collins is often the funniest character, and that is true here. This is not my favorite portrayal, but it’s a good one.

The only cast member who I immediately recognized was Michael Gough, now more often known as Alfred Pennyworth in four Batman films, as Mr. Bennet. He makes an unusual Mr. Bennet, a bit young, but also effeminate and creepy. I can’t imagine this Lizzie feeling close to this Mr. Bennet. And I can’t figure why anyone would be attracted to this Wickham. He should never be dull.

This isn’t an unpleasant viewing experience, particularly as it doesn’t run too long. I don’t think anyone needs dumbed-down Austen, but for what it is, it isn’t bad.


Pride and Prejudice (BBC – 1980) – Elizabeth Garvie/David Rintoul

This is another miniseries, and due to its length, could be considered one of the most complete adaptations, but that depends on how you define complete. Certainly there is dialog which can only be found here and in the book. But there are also major scenes missing and lines relocated to unlikely locations. I suppose I should leave discussion of the “purity” of the material to the Janeites.

One very noticeable adjustment is to Lizzie. I suppose it was to clarify the title, so this Lizzie is prejudice about most everything and to a degree the novel would never approach. She immediately judges every person and situation, and is incorrect in almost every case. This makes her the least amiable Lizzie, but still the best thing about the series. Garvie is bright-eyed and attractive. She’s more of an “every woman” Lizzie then the exceptional one in other films and series.

Interestingly, while this Lizzie is less sympathetic, Mr. Collins is more. This makes him less funny than usual, though I did laugh when he showed off his dancing skills. But then, all of the characters are less enjoyable than I would like them to be and it is easy to find better renditions. The absurdity of the characters is highlighted, often going too far, making them unpleasant to watch. Mrs. Bennet and the three younger sisters can be hard to take if not deftly handled; in this case their obnoxious behavior (repeated again and again and again) made me long for the subtlety of a Jim Carey movie. Mr. Bennet is played as a harder man, showing no love for most of his family. He is occasionally cruel to them, but it is quite understandable, and I sympathized with his hiding in the library more than ever. Mr. Wickham is better than in the previous mini-series, but he still lacks the charm needed for the story to work. Even Jane’s sunny disposition is tedious. This is Pride and Prejudice with people you don’t like and will never want to meet. The few that aren’t horrible by their own traits are so by association. Each time Elizabeth shows respect or fondness for her family, friends, and Darcy, my estimation of her decreases.

As for it being a comedy, it is to the extent that it is unreal, always two steps away from how humans behave, but it is never actually funny. While the acting has been attacked by other critics as stilted, I can’t see that as a fair criticism. As with most comedies, realism is nudged to the side (if not thrown out all together). There is no reason why anyone should sound like an actual person. Also as a comedy, it can be excused for the lack of chemistry between its stars. If I was informed that Elizabeth Garvie and David Rintoul hated each other, and that there were several attempts by each to pluck out the other’s liver, perhaps with a more than normally dull spoon, then I’d be able to fathom their performances. This Lizzie holds Darcy in contempt from beginning to end, no matter what lines she is reciting. Rintoul brings the real humor to the show, although it is almost certainly accidental. I had thought of Darcy as a jerk in several adaptations, but never had I taken him to be a psycho-killer. This Darcy, with his inability to move his neck, constantly slit mouth, obsessed stare, and artificial gait, is just weird. I could plop him down in a horror movie as either an escaped mental patient that keeps eyeballs in a jar, or as an undead mummy only recently unwrapped, without any alteration. He’s a sick, unpleasant freak, and Lizzie even spitting out the words that she’s fond of him (no matter how much we don’t believe her) shows she’s under a demonic spell. In case that wasn’t clear, this does not work as a romance.

There is an attempt to deal with the subjective nature of the story by inserting very occasional narration, but it doesn’t fill in what’s necessary and instead repeats what we already know.

My comments do pain a negative picture (and I haven’t even mentioned the uninspired sets and fake military uniforms), but it is still Austen. Yes, it is slow and dry, but I found a good deal of pleasure in comparing it to both the superior and inferior adaptations.  If you are a fan of the story, Garvie and company are worth one viewing.


Pride and Prejudice (1995) – Jennifer Ehle/Colin Firth

The 1995 adaptation, considered to be the definitive one by…well, just about everyone, isn’t a film at all, but a miniseries. Clocking in at just over five hours, it has the time to present the intricacies of the society and relationships, similarly to how it was done in the book. All main characters are fully fleshed out. Changes occur naturally, in steps that make sense and are clearly shown. That might make it sound leisurely, but it isn’t. The pace is swift and there are no slow moments.

The novel has been described as some combination of romance, comedy, and satire (obviously, there’s some overlap). The miniseries leans more toward romance. There is comedy, but it is primarily reserved for comic relief characters (particularly Mrs. Bennet, who is constantly complaining about her nerves, and Mr. Collins, a toady cousin who wants to marry Lizzie and seldom utters a line that doesn’t refer to the marvels of his aristocratic patron). Lizzie is brought to life by Jennifer Ehle, who accomplishes the impossible task of making women the world over, who always pictured themselves as Lizzie, see her as the beloved character. She is charming, and her eyes dance when she isn’t allowed to. Beautiful and witty, she is the personification of the intelligent costume-drama heroine. Colin Firth became a star due to his portrayal of Darcy, and a million women sighed in unison when he got wet, diving into a pond. I must admit, even I wanted these two to get together.

There is no skimping on the other relationships. Lizzie’s father is an important character, and here we see his love for Lizzie (and to a lesser extent, the rest of his family). It’s a pleasure to watch him as he comes to understand what has happened to his favorite daughter. Jane and Bingley are given time as well, enough to pull the viewers into their uneven romance.

Exquisite location shots (the U.S. simply doesn’t have mansions like these), appropriate costumes, and pleasant, non-intrusive music, all add to the ambiance. The camera work is adequate in showing off the stars and environments, and is better than expected for a television production.

This is the choice of purists, who want any film to match the novel. Well, they have nothing to complain about, and outside of Darcy being too much like Hitler’s second cousin in his first scene, I don’t either.


Pride & Prejudice (2005) – Keira Knightley/Matthew Macfadyen

I wonder if I would have reacted differently to the 2005 Pride and Prejudice if I hadn’t seen the miniseries first. I’m used to books being chopped up and compressed when they are turned into movies, and it doesn’t bother me (they are different media, so the stories need to be told differently). I am less accustomed to seeing a film condensed to make another film. But that is one of the primary impressions of this version. It is much like the ’95 series, but with substantial portions missing or shortened. As no subplots were removed, it’s no surprise that things are rushed: it is three hours shorter. There are also minor changes to the design. The Bennet’s house is no longer pristine, and the larger budget has allowed for some cliff-side romance shots, but none of that is significant. It is the loss of development time that matters.
So, we know what this version hasn’t got. What does it have? It has Keira Knightley. She owns every second of this film. Some critics were astonished at her performance, but that’s only because critics are a snooty lot, and don’t consider expertise in a pirate movie to count. Well, it does count, and as Lizzie, she’s now proved it to all. Knightley sparkles throughout. It doesn’t hurt that the actress is the same age as the character, but more important is the life, intelligence, and joy that she brings to the part. You care about all the events in the film, not because of their thorough development, but simply because Lizzie—this Lizzie—does. Watching the miniseries, you understand how someone could love Lizzie. In this film, it is you who will love her.

Is this version all about the star? All of the other actors are good (some, such as Rosamund Pike as Jane, and Donald Sutherland in the much reduced part of Mr. Bennet, are superb), the sets and locations are beautiful, the dances are energetic, and the music is pleasing. But yes, in the end, it is all about the star. And it is enough.

Well, perhaps not for everyone. While most people were thrilled with this version, one group was upset: the Janeites. These are fanatical Austen fans who want no deviation from the book, nor any changes from how they saw it in their minds. In the case of Keira Knightley’s Pride and Prejudice, they were dismayed that the Bennet’s don’t do more house cleaning, that when Darcey walks down the road, it is foggy and his coat flaps in the wind, and, most of all, that Darcey and Lizzie almost, but still do not, kiss.  This is too gothic for their tastes (God help them should they ever see a vampire film; the gothic texture would cause them to explode) and smacks too much of romance. The trivial nature of these elements doesn’t matter to them. I like to think of these people as crazy, because it’s convenient to have neat categories for people, and because that way I can look at them with pity instead of distain. Pity’s nicer.


Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016) – Lily James/Sam Riley

The first in the recent run of literary classics/horror mashups, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies made it to the screen a bit slower than Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, which is just as well, since that attempt didn’t work out. What is surprising about it is how the basic story is straight Austin. It’s still bright Elizabeth, beautiful Jane, and their three silly sisters, trying to get by as their mother goes overboard trying to get them husbands. Mr. Bannet is still loving but would rather keep to himself. Pleasant Mr. Bingley shows up with his rude friend Darcy, as does Collins who’s again looking for a Bennet wife and drooling over his benefactor Lady Catherine. It’s the whole story, and if they pulled the zombies and dialed back Lizzie’s modern sensibilities, this could be a normal, and pretty solid version of Pride and Prejudice. Lily James is a fine Lizzie and the rest of the cast fulfill their rolls excellently, except for Sam Riley’s Darcy. He lacks the charm and depth needed, but he’s not the worst cinematic Darcy.
Combined with that, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies offers a fun zombie story with some fabulous world building. That allows for some fantastic scenes of Regency women in layered frocks pulling their multiple weapons and going full Resident Evil on the undead. So it is fun, twisted action along with Austin’s words. It sounds great.

But it isn’t great. The problem is right there in its success. Pride and Prejudice’s story not only fills up a movie, it requires that much time at a minimum. Previous film versions have felt too short. Now add in a zombie story complicated enough to fill an entire film on its own and we’ve got a time problem. Everything is way too rushed. We barely get to know the main characters. Forget about any of the secondary folks. At times this is less of a film then an overview.

The film needed to figure out what it wanted to be. If it was Austin, with zombies, then it needed at least another hour—I’d recommend making it a ten episode series. Jane seems great. Give me time to get to know her. Give me time to get to know the entire Bennet clan. Matt Smith appears funny yet affable as Parson Collins. Let’s have another thirty minutes with him. Lena Headey’s Lady Catherine was barely onscreen while I could have spent another hour just with her. As for Lizzie and Darcy—for there to be any chance of me caring about that relationship, wanting it to work, I needed to see him slowly revealed (or changed) into a man worthy of Lizzie and needed to see her broaden her views of the world. And then delve into that zombie plot a bit more.

If it just wanted to be a cute zombie story set in Austin-land, then pull way back on the Austin. Give us zombie slaughter that just happens to have leads named Elizabeth and Darcy who exist in a faux-Regency setting.

There’s enough in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies for me to recommend it, but it is a mild recommendation aimed at people already fans of Austin’s (but not purists) and already fans of zombies, who think the title is funny.


If costume dramas aren’t your thing, Austen has been updated for the new millennia, with three “hip” renditions in four years. That’s got to be a record.

Pride and Prejudice: A Latter Day Comedy (2003) – Kam Heskin

If you’ve seen Clueless, and know that it is an adaptation of Austen’s Emma, then you’ll know what the filmmakers had in mind when Elizabeth and Darcy (that’s Will Darcy) are transplanted to a Utah college town. Mom and Dad Bennet are gone, and Elizabeth’s four sisters are now her roommates. Darcy is a partner in a publishing firm, and stuffy, middle-aged pastor Collins has become stuffy, young, LDS (Latter Day Saints) missionary Collins. The comedy aspects of the story are given priority, and a rock beat backs up many of the scenes.

Not surprisingly, there are a few rough edges in the transition to current times. The story doesn’t make much sense in modern America, where women have options, a sense of decorum and the necessity for a good reputation do not strangle behavior, and marriage is not an absolute necessity. So, either the story has to be changed, or you’ve got to find a culture with a very conservative set of values. They did both. The characters are Mormons, which helps elevate the importance of virginity and marriage, but not enough to make it all sensible. Wickham’s plot has been altered to try and bring it into this century, but it doesn’t work. The emotion is missing.

While the connection to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is purely cultural (there’s no preaching), and essential to explain the concerns of the character, strangely, the distributors of the DVD played it down. The title has been changed, removing “A Latter Day Comedy,” and a few lines have been cut or re-dubbed. This is the work of the brain dead. Removing the name of the church that everyone belongs to does not make the film more accessible, just inexplicable.

Kam Heskin is a likable Elizabeth, and most of the other actors are reasonable for a low-budget picture, but the film never jells. There is no sexual tension between the leads, the ending is forced, and worst of all, it isn’t funny. The jokes aren’t necessarily bad, but the timing is off. It’s part delivery, part editing, and part directing, but however you assign blame, there isn’t a laugh in sight. Elizabeth and Jane’s PMS ice-cream pig-out should have been funny, but it drags. There’s even a montage (yes, a montage, and it doesn’t even deal with martial arts training), which is a sign that the director and writers were lost with the material. It isn’t the plot that makes the novel a classic, but the language. Austen wrote excellent dialog and it’s not here. No one connected to this project was up to the task of replacing Austen.


Bride and Prejudice (2004) – Aishwarya Rai

The Bennets go Bollywood (well, faux Bollywood as this movie was produced in the West), with bright colors, singing, and dancing, but it’s a fairly straight rendition of the story from the novel. The advantage of the modern Indian setting is that the important old-style English sensibilities (marriage is vital, status is paramount, etc.) are still in place. The disadvantage? Well, once again we don’t get Austen’s language (except in rare instances), and the replacement is mediocre.

As for that singing and dancing, if you are a fan of Bollywood films, and don’t mind musical numbers that do not advance the story and are often at odds with the tone of the surrounding drama, you may find them tolerable. But probably not, since the songs very from not-too-bad to atrocious. If you haven’t acquired the taste for Bollywood, you’re in for a rough time.

Aishwarya Rai, a former Miss World, has no problem being beautiful. As Lalita Bakshi, the renamed Elizabeth, she doesn’t overwhelm with her acting chops, nor does she muck up the works. Unfortunately, she has no chemistry with Martin Henderson, whose William Darcy isn’t as much of a jerk at the film’s opening as his other incarnations, but also lacks the fire. He’s a milquetoast Darcy.  The unfortunate actors are given little help by a script that requires them to argue about Indian culture, the problems with tourism, and the destruction of true India caused by the building of hotels. Ummmmm. Sure.

There’s fun to be had, and no one could complain that this isn’t bright and shiny entertainment, but it’s also no more than ankle deep. Think of it as Austen with some of the charm, but none of the soul. It would be a great extra on the DVDs of the Ehle/Firth or Knightley versions.


Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001) – Renée Zellweger/Colin Firth/Hugh Grant

If you are having trouble fitting Pride and Prejudice into a modern setting, why bother forcing it? Just take what you like. That’s the philosophy behind Bridget Jones’s Diary, which isn’t a version of Austen’s work, but merely inspired by it, and then only when convenient.

Bridget has the kindness and wit of Lizzie, but not her intelligence (yes, wit doesn’t equal intelligence). Where Lizzie was a special girl, Bridget is every girl. Mark Darcy is Darcy, with little alteration, and is even played by Colin Firth, who changes nothing from his previous version. Daniel Cleaver is a more charming version of Wickham, who is just as slimy, but somehow more loveable. His feud with Darcy has completely changed, as has the “foul deed” that makes the heroine change her opinion of him. Mr. Jones is more befuddled than Mr. Bennet, but he has the same warm relationship with his daughter. And Bridget’s mother is trying to get her married off in embarrassing ways. More of the characters could be mapped onto counterparts in Pride and Prejudice, but the fit becomes awkward.

People can argue about how well this works as Pride and Prejudice, (and they do, with many Janeites offended by the language and sex—they are really silly people), but as Bridget Jones’s Diary, it works brilliantly. There’s just enough romance and plenty of humor. Renée Zellweger transforms herself into a pleasingly plump, London, thirty-something with the insecurities of a generation setting on her shoulders; without prior knowledge, you’d never guess that she spends most of her time as a Texan stick-insect (to borrow a term from the movie). Bridget fears almost everything, but also enjoys her vices. She smokes, drinks, eats chocolate, and runs off to the country for anal sex with her boss. She’s looking for love, self-respect, and a good time, and in the end, she gets all three. But first she has to do everything just a little wrong (and a few things monumentally wrong). Most of it is funny (particularly whenever Hugh Grant shows up), but it wouldn’t work if you didn’t care so much for Bridget. It also has the finest fight between two forty-year-old men ever filmed (the average forty-year-old does not know martial arts, boxing, or any other combat skill to save him from looking as silly as a kindergartener when it comes to fisticuffs ).

You’d think after all those—plus viewings of Sense and Sensibility and Emma—I’d be all Austened-out. But I could repeat (most of them) tomorrow. Happily, they are out on disk, so I can. And guys, these aren’t popcorn movies. Get out the champagne and strawberries. Trust me.

Oct 041940
 

Road to Singapore (1940) four reels
Road to Zanzibar (1941) four reels
Road to Morocco (1942) five reels
Road to Utopia (1945) four reels
Road to Rio (1947) three reels
Road to Bali (1952) 3,5 reels
The Road to Hong Kong (1962) three reels

The ultimate comic buddy team, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby were stars in their own right (yeah, if you are reading film reviews, you already know that), but really shown when tossed together.  Crosby’s drug-like relaxed style was a perfect counterpoint to Hope’s frenetic persona.  They appeared on each others radio shows multiple times and if one starred in a film, there was a good chance the other would pop up in a cameo.

In 1940, after the project was turned down by Fred MacMurray and Jack Oakie (I can’t even imagine…) and George Burns and Gracie Allen, Hope and Crosby were enlisted to head off toward Singapore.  They never made it, in the film anyway, but they made cinema history.  With a huge success and a new kind of comedy on their hands, the studio was happy to make more of the same.

Parodies of popular adventure films, the Road Pictures follow a formula.  Hope and Crosby always play the same characters.  They are given different names, but the personalities don’t change.  Crosby is the confident, suave, ladies man, with a great deal of larceny in his heart but little money in his pocket.  Hope portrays the cowardly fool who is equally dishonest and equally poor.  With few minor variations, each picture starts with them trying to eke out a living as performers, with Crosby tricking Hope into some dangerous stunt.  Due to money or women problems, the two go on the run, ending up in some exotic local.  Along the way they meet Dorothy Lamour, a beautiful and mysterious woman with some problem the boys end up having to solve, no matter how much they try to avoid it.  There’s also a villain or two, and while our “heroes” occasionally fight, more often, they run.  Romance sparks between Crosby and Lamour, though Hope tends to believe that he is the object of her affections.  This leads to numerous back-stabbings, though they all work together more often than not.

The films have four to six songs each, including a ballad for Crosby, a solo number for Lamour, and a comic duet for Hope and Crosby.  Some of the songs are integrated into the story, but just as often, they are dropped in out of nowhere.

After the first picture, the movies become self-referential (or series-referential).  Numerous gags are repeated and part of the fun is to see how they pop up this time.  The most famous is the patty-cake routine, where Hope and Crosby distract guards or attackers by playing the game until they get in a good punch.  Repeated references are made to the stars’ other work (radio shows, musical singles, etc.), to the motion picture company, and to competing actors.  There are also many topical references, making some of the humor out of reach to anyone born after the ’40s.  Supposedly, many of the lines were adlibbed, but in reality, both Hope and Crosby used staff writers to created their off-the-cuff dialog.

The Road Pictures make up one of the finest comedic series.  Even the weakest installment is worth your time, and the best ones are classics.


Road to  Singapore (1940) four reels

Josh (Bing Crosby) is the heir to a shipping fortune and Ace (Bob Hope) is his disreputable friend.  When both find themselves railroaded into marriage, they take off for the islands.  At a small bar on the isle of Kaigoon (not Singapore) they pick up local dancer Mima (Dorothy Lamour) and brawl with her whip-wielding partner Caesar (Anthony Quinn).  Both the boys vie for Mima’s affections, doing their best to ruin the other’s chances.  While Josh seems to have the advantage, he has the added problem that his fiancée (Judith Barrett) and father (Charles Coburn ) have located him and plan to bring him home.

The straightest of the seven Road Pictures, Road to Singapore is a parody of South Sea Island romantic adventure films, but it is also a romantic adventure film in its own right.  Hope and Crosby keep in character.  Yes, those characters are familiar, but this time they never claim to be a couple actors in a movie.  The fourth wall isn’t broken, and the only “external” reference is a line in a song: “I’m in there pitching for Paramount.”  It is the only one of the Road Pictures that attempts to get the audience emotionally involved…though not too involved (and it succeeds)

I might be making this sound too serious.  It’s not.  Jokes take precedence and there are plenty of them.  Hope is as quick as ever, rattling off one-liners rapid fire.  Crosby keeps up, and between the two of them, only the musical interludes will give you a chance to breathe.  Lamour doesn’t add anything to the comedy, but she does bring sexapeal.  This is Lamour at her most stunning, every man’s island fantasy.

The songs are some of the best in the series, generally fitting the tone of the action (instead of being a break for 1940s pop).  Captain Custard and Sweet Potato Piper are hummable, and The Moon and the Willow Tree is beautifully melodic, wistfully conjuring up faraway lands.

Road to Singapore is not the best of the seven, but if you can only get a hold of two, this should be one of them because it is the anchor for the others.


Road to Zanzibar (1941) four reels

Fearless Frazier (Bob Hope) and Chuck Reardon (Bing Crosby) are on the run in Africa, after their human bullet routine burns down a carnival.  When an eccentric millionaire (Eric Blore) gets them out of a jam, Chuck buys a bogus diamond mine from him with all their hard-earned cash.  When Fearless re-sells it to some thugs, the pair are once again on the run.  “500 miles from nowhere” they are tricked by Donna Latour (Dorothy Lamour) into taking her and her friend Julia (Una Merkel) across Africa so Donna can marry yet another millionaire.  Of course the boys fall for Donna, Donna falls for Chuck, songs are song, and cannibals pop up, all on the road to Zanzibar.

With the success of Road to Singapore, it was inevitable that the boys would be back on the road again, and quite quickly.  This time it’s a spoof of jungle pictures, complete with natives and a man in an obvious gorilla suit.

The structure of Road to Zanzibar copies Singapore closely, but the comedy is broader.  Things are still sedate compared to the entries yet to come, but already, the illusion that Hope and Crosby are playing characters specific to this film is fading.  They’re just Hope and Crosby, doing their normal patter.  Certainly this works, but it makes Zanzibar an intermediate film: too wild to feel any concern for the action, not zany enough to accept it all as a series of gags.  Again, the forth wall remains intact, though Hope does directly comment on Road to Singapore (when their patty-cake gimmick doesn’t work, he observes that their opponent must have seen the last picture).

While Hope and Crosby’s characters have changed only in degree, Lamour’s is quite different.  This time out she’s a good-hearted swindler, not the innocent fantasy-vision.  She would stick close to this persona for the rest of the films.

The songs are pleasant, provided you like 1940s pop, but it’s doubtful you’ll be singing them after the film’s over.  Crosby’s requisite balled “It’s Always You” is the most memorable though I can’t recall the melody a mere hour after hearing it.  He’s in particularly fine form, showing off his vocal range.

I’ve seen Road to Zanzibar many times over the years and have always enjoyed it, but when naming the top movies in the series, it’s always remained in the pack.


Road to Morocco (1942) five reels

Turkey (Bob Hope) and Jeffrey (Bing Crosby) find themselves marooned in Morocco without food or money.  Jeffrey sells Turkey into slavery, but he ends up in the hands of Princess Shalmar (Dorothy Lamour), who intends to marry him for her own nefarious purpose.  Her fiancé, Mullay Kasim, the desert sheik (Anthony Quinn), is none to happy with this turn of events, nor is Jeffrey once he finds them.  This leads to crossed romances, dancing girls, magic rings, and the rarity of Hope getting a girl.

We’re off on the road to Morocco.
This camel is tough on the spine.
Where they’re goin’, why we’re goin’, how can we be sure?
I’ll lay you eight to five that we’ll meet Dorothy Lamour.

Off on the road to Morocco.
Hang on till the end of the line.
I hear this country’s where they do the dance of the seven veils.
We’d tell you more but we would have the censor on our tails.

With Road to Morocco, the format was perfected.  Generally considered the best of The Road Pictures and my favorite (for what it’s worth, the U.S. government agrees, selecting it for the National Film Registry), it is as close to flawless as any comedy.  Moving at a lighting pace, Morocco piles gag on top of gag, with only the better than average songs breaking up the humor.

Since everyone watching in ’42 (and anyone now who is taking the films in order) knew what to expect, there is no attempt to pretend otherwise.  Instead, the viewer is invited to share in the fun.  It isn’t just Bob and Bing that are off on the road to Morocco; it’s us as well.  The stars talk to the audience, refer to past jokes, and generally let everyone know that it’s all just for laughs.

For any villains we may meet, we haven’t any fears.
Paramount will protect us ’cause we’re signed for five more years

The comedy couldn’t be broader.  Within minutes of the opening, the boys are stuck on a raft and Crosby is already talking about eating Hope.  Yup, this movie starts with cannibalism jokes.  From there we head off to homoerotism, whipping, and talking camels.  While a few of the lines may be lost on people not up on ’40s pop-culture, it isn’t a problem as there’s always another joke coming.

Road to Morocco was hysterical sixty-five years ago and it still is today.  It’s the reason why theaters need to show older films as it is a real joy with a crowd.  If you aren’t lucky enough to have such a theater near you, pick up the DVD and have a video-watching party with all your friends.


Road to Utopia (1945) four reels


Duke and Chester (Bing Crosby, Bob Hope) find themselves in snow-covered Alaska, disguised as killers and carrying a stolen treasure map. The real owner of the map, Skagway Sal (Dorothy Lamour), attempts to seduce the map from them. The local gangster, Ace Larson (Douglass Dumbrille), and the killers, Sperry and McGurk, also want the map, and their way of getting it is much less pleasant.

One of the most popular Road Pictures, Road to Utopia has a slightly more leisurely pace than its sprinting predecessor, more along the lines of Zanzibar, but keeps the same level of madcap absurdity.  Fish and bears chat, a mountain transforms into the Paramount logo, and a magician from a different picture walks through the set.  Hope and Crosby could do their patter in their sleep at this point, but don’t, keeping the energy high and the jokes always coming.

Humorist Robert Benchley, popular in the ’30s and ’40s for his short films, appears periodically in a corner of the screen to “explain” the story.  It’s an amusing bit, though I suspect it was a scream to movie goers in ’45.

The songs aren’t up to Morocco‘s standards, but are still above average for the series.  Lamour’s cute and sexy Personality is the one you’ll most likely want to hear again.  The Hope/Crosby duet Put it There, Pal, is also good fun—not really a song, but one of their quick, gag-laden conversations done to a tune.

Road to Utopia is a fine follow-up to Morocco.

(I have a previous, standalone review of Road to Utopia here.)


Road to Rio (1947) three reels

Hot Lips Barton (Bob Hope) and Scat Sweeney (Bing Crosby) are down-on-their-luck performers, run out of town after town due to Scat’s inappropriate advances toward local women.  Stowing-away on an ocean liner, they meet the lovely Lucia Maria de Andrade (Dorothy Lamour) who’s under the hypnotic control of the evil Catherine Vail (Gale Sondergaard).  Naturally, the boys must save themselves as well as Lucia and find a bit of romance along the way.

By this fifth entry in the series, the always familiar jokes have become a little too familiar.  Sure, much of the humor comes from seeing how the old situations will pop up this time, but there is a point of limiting returns.  Yes, it’s funny to see the patty-cake punch gag (used twice), but not quite as funny as it had been in the previous four outings.

In an attempt at a little variation in the format, the “wackiness” is toned down…slightly…from the heights of Morocco and Utopia.  Bing and Bob only blatantly break the forth wall once and have fewer references to it just being a motion picture; fewer means there are some, which play well due to their rarity.  The longest Road Picture, Rio  has the most coherent and linear plot since Singapore.  The boys set out to evade the bad guys and save Dorothy, and are only sidetracked once, when they get a job as an American band in Rio.  This diversion includes the best gag in the picture as they try and pass off three non-English-speaking locals as hip-cat Americans by teaching each a single phrase.

Usually, a few of the always-present songs halt the story while a couple keep things going and are part of the humor.  This time, all the music grinds things to a halt.  The tunes are all generic 1940s pop; you won’t need to buy the soundtrack.  You Don’t Have to Know the Language, sung by Bing and The Andrew Sisters, is as close to a standout as you’ll find, and it’s not all that close.  The Andrew Sisters were a popular war-time trio, but their attraction has not held up over the years and younger viewers aren’t likely to be impressed.

Gale Sondergaard, best known as Inez Quintero in The Mark of Zorro, is a welcome addition to the cast.  She doesn’t have much to do, and plays her part straight, but manages to add in a touch of appealing evil.

The Road Pictures are all good fun, and there’s nothing wrong with Rio. It just isn’t the equal of others in the franchise.


Road to Bali (1952) 3,5 reels

George (Bing Crosby) and Harold (Bob Hope), on the run from a pair of shotgun weddings, take jobs as deep sea divers for Ken-Arok, an island prince (Murvyn Vye).  The island is ruled by his cousin, Princess Lala (Dorothy Lamour), and with the sunken treasure  he’s hired the boys to recover, he plans to depose Lala.  Obviously, his intensions for our two heroes don’t involve them surviving, and just as obviously, they don’t notice as the fight over Lala.

We’re back to the South Seas in the sixth installment of the Road Pictures, and it’s once again fertile ground.  The team apparently has more one-liners for islands, native dancing girls, and love-starved gorillas than they do for commercial trips to South America.  They’ve also returned to (or even surpassed) Morocco‘s level of absurdity, with a magic rope, a basket that produces beautiful girls, and a talking volcano.  They joke about Paramount Pictures (again), Errol Flynn (who screams from off stage because Bing and Bob are getting so many babes), and Crosby’s advancing age.  Bing’s brother Bob, the curvaceous Jane Russell, Humphrey Bogart, and Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis all make improbable cameos as themselves.  The fourth wall is in ruins.  Hope repeatedly makes helpful suggestions to the audience, but I’ll skip the details as those are the film’s best gags.  Road to Bali is, on a joke-by-joke scale, the funniest Road Picture, which, depending on one’s taste, makes it one of the funniest films ever made.

It is also the best looking Road Picture.  The only one in color (lush Technicolor), the obviously stage-bound jungles and ancient structures make me want to ship out to the Pacific tomorrow.

Since I don’t rate this as highly as Morocco, the observant reader should be waiting for the “but…”  And here it is: the musical numbers.  The music isn’t horrible…overall.  Moonflowers, Lamour’s tone-setting ballad, isn’t half bad.  But the execution of all the songs is uncomfortable and their integration into the story is incompetent, or just lazy.  A little too old to be winging it, Hope and Crosby often look like your accountant neighbor on karaoke night.  I have to wonder if they did any blocking for the songs or if everyone just walked on stage and then moved around randomly.

At their best, the numbers come off as dated.  Anyone under the age of thirty is going to moan, as are most of those over it.

It’s remarkable for an entry so late in a franchise to be this good.  But the franchise was getting old by ’52.  The stars weren’t young any more, nor were the jokes (good, but not young).

Road to Bali is out of copyright, so low-rent DVD companies have put out numerous poor quality versions, sometimes just using an old VHS tape.  I can’t say how many are bad, but without more info, I wouldn’t chance it, and pick up the Brentwood one which is good.


The Road to Hong Kong (1962) three reels

Conmen Harry (Bing Crosby) and Chester (Bob Hope) are plying their trade in India when Chester is injured.  The two journey to see a Tibetan Lama to cure Chester’s amnesia, and while there, swipe an herb that gives the user the ability to remember whatever he sees.  Diane (Joan Collins), an agent of an evil organization, mistakenly slips Chester the recipe for their new rocket fuel, and its those plans the boys use to try out their new “memory act.”  With the papers destroyed, the secret is only in Chester’s head, and Diane and her boss (Robert Morley) will stop at nothing to get that information.  Luckily, Dorothy Lamour is touring Hong Kong, so she can help our hapless heroes.

After a ten year absence, Hope and Crosby are back on the road, this time to nostalgia.  The road is warm and inviting for old fans, but it has little to offer on its own.  Though the two old pros have slowed down, they can still rattle off a lot of jokes in ninety-minutes, but none are laugh-out-loud funny.  This is a movie that may make you smile at old friends, but any real laughs will be from remembering how they were.

Espionage pics were ripe for spoofing, but the story never jells—not necessarily a problem as plot is an after thought in the Road Picture.  But they also don’t find good gags for the topic, instead writing the same insults and girl-chasing routines that have been done six times before.

The Road to Hong Kong introduces several unwanted changes, besides putting “The” in the title.  It returns the franchise to b&w.  After Road to Balis appealing use of Technicolor, the movie looks drab.  Compounding that is the poorer quality of the film stock compared to what was used in the ’40s, lacking the contrast that marked Singapore and Morocco.  Far more noticeable is the demotion of Dorothy Lamour.  Deemed too old at the time to be Bing and Bob’s sexual fantasy, Joan Collins got the role.  Collins is certainly attractive, and does a reasonable job, but has little chemistry with the pair.  Yes, Lamour was a bit older than in her prime “sarong” years, but she was still eleven years younger than Hope and Crosby, and would have been more believable with the two near-sixty-year-olds.  She was also a far more accomplished singer (not that  Hong Kong should be remembered for its songs, no matter who sung them).  When she balked at her cameo, Lamour’s part was enlarged, but she’s still a minor player.

Once again the forth wall is torn down and there are a torrent of self-referential remarks.  Unfortunately, the wild, zany fun of breaking the rules that was the hallmark of Morocco and Bali comes off as silly here.  The third time the duo calls on the special effects department to get them out of a jam, I was shaking my head, not laughing.

This review sounds negative, but that’s only because I’m comparing Hong Kong to the other Road Pictures.  With lesser competition, it would stand up better to scrutiny.  But then the only reason to watch this one is because it is part of such a fine series.  It’s enjoyable, and isn’t an embarrassment, which is pretty good for a seventh film.

Oct 041940
 
two reels

Three old men (Charles Winninger, C. Aubrey Smith and Harry Carey), with nothing to do for Christmas, toss three wallets into the snow, hoping that whoever finds them will return them and stay for dinner.  It works in two cases, reeling in a young girl and a down-on-his-luck Texan (Richard Carlson) who find each other attractive.  The five become close, but the three old men die in a plane crash, leaving their ghosts to watch the young couple fall apart.

There is a lot of potential here; it is also creepy.  The Dickens’ oriented Christmas cheer is visible, but a lighter hand was needed to make it come to life.  The first part works nicely as the focus is on the peculiarities of the elderly men.  Watching excellent character actors like Smith, Winninger, and Carey is always worth the time.  Plus, there is Maria Ouspenskaya (the gypsy woman in The Wolf Man) as a servant, an actress that makes any picture better.

But things go wrong quickly when the older actors take a back seat to the younger ones.  The love story is neither romantic nor thoughtful.  And the film takes a cruel twist for a feel-good Christmas flick.  It is fairly vicious toward one of the characters, a starlet who gets in the way of the romance.  It turns out she has no soul at all simply because she’s a starlet.  On this world view, might I suggest a simple farming life is the way to go.

The afterlife is a strange place, with rather strict rules.  But the rules can all be broken because God is easily influenced.  Someone just has to ask.  I guess the lesson here is make sure you have a friend who can ask God to fix things because God won’t do it on his own.  This is not an afterlife I’d like to see.

Outside of asking God for favors, there isn’t much for a ghost to do, which is disappointing in a fantasy film filled with ghosts.

Also known as Beyond Christmas.

Sep 121940
 
two reels
rebecca

Rich and imposing widower, Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier) quickly marries a lower class introvert (Joan Fontaine). The Second Mrs. de Winter—that’s the only name she’s given—has problems fitting in at Manderley, his ancient estate, and is constantly doubting herself, afraid that her husband can only love his dead first wife, Rebecca. Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson), obsessed with Rebecca, encourages her fears to the point of suggesting she kill herself. This gothic melodrama continues for two-thirds of the film until the new wife discovers that things are not at all as she had assumed.

I’m not sure if it is fitting to review Rebecca as part of my “Overrated Movies” collection as it no longer seems to have that good of a reputation. It isn’t hated, but it seems to be an also-ran on critics’ lists of Alfred Hitchcock projects. A quick look at a dozen such lists shows it always outside of the top 10 (granted, those top films are lofty company, but Rebecca needs such company if it really deserved to beat The Philadelphia Story and His Girl Friday to the Oscar). Rebecca tends to sit in the middle ground, between the director’s classics and failures, which is where I put it. Hitchcock himself was none-too-fond of it. David O Selznick wanted it his way (he always did) and played with the script, and recut the film to his own liking, filming additional scenes and re-recording dialog and making a mishmash of it. At least Hitchcock managed to substitute the over-the-top close-up of the letter “R” on a burning bed over Selznick’s choice of the ridiculous “R” appearing in the smoke. Hitchcock dismissed the film and changed his shooting style to make it more difficult for producers to mangle his work in the future.

Rebecca is a rip-off of Jane Eyre, both as a novel and a film, though amusingly, the ’43 adaptation of Jane Eyre takes its look from the ’40 Rebecca. In both we have our lower class girl tossed into a gothic mansion with a dashing but troubled widower. She loves him and he may love her. Reminders of the dead wife are everywhere and it seems like her spirit is darkening the lives of all involved. The housekeeper is fanatically devoted to the ghost and dislikes the intrusion of the young woman. And there is a mystery involving that first wife and her death. Rebecca functions because of the similarity. Jane Eyre has an unusual answer for its mystery (yes, spoilers for Jane Eyre ahead) in that the first wife isn’t dead. Since Rebecca apes much of Jane Eyre, it leaves the audience asking what it wouldn’t otherwise: Is the first Mrs. de Winter actually gone? And it is the possibility that she isn’t that drives the tension. Without that, there would be nothing but a depressing character study for the first hour. What we’ve got here is a “make your own mystery” story, where Jane Eyre goes one way and Rebecca another.

The strange thing is that Rebecca just lets all the tension go at the two-thirds mark. The story ends, and then a new story begins. Up to that point it is all fog and rain and doom and despair and doubt. Then all of that goes away and we jump into a conventional police procedural. The final act isn’t bad, though the tonal shift can give you whiplash. It doesn’t help that the censors demanded a much more unlikely and emotionally bland back-story than the one in the book, one that makes it difficult to figure why de Winter didn’t solve most of the problems early on by speaking to his new wife.

Plot holes abound (Why didn’t de Winter fire Mrs. Danvers some time ago?) and the story doesn’t hold together well, but most of those failings are hidden in all that fog. The sudden personality alterations are a bit harder to take. Still, as a whole, Rebecca is mildly entertaining and I rank it best of the trilogy of gothic romances of the time, Rebecca, Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights. But if you want classic gothic romance, two supernatural films rise high over any of these. 1943 would see the release of I Walked With a Zombie, based on Jane Eyre, and ’44 would give us The Uninvited, which discreetly borrows from Rebecca. Both are masterpieces.

Most of Rebecca’s 11 Oscar nominations are undeserved, as is the win for best picture. Some are embarrassing, like the three for acting. I have to wonder if it was Selznick that let the acting become so uncontrolled as it isn’t Hitchcock’s style; it does remind me of Gone With the Wind, which had Selznick’s fingerprints all over it. Olivier, Fontaine, and Anderson are in melodrama-mode, playing everything too broadly. If de Winter is in a brooding mood, you’ll know it. Likewise every time Wife 2 is frightened, Fontaine does her best to announce that to people outside the theater walking by in the streets. And Anderson only needs a mustache to twirl to be Snidely Whiplash. The director’s nomination didn’t impress Hitchcock, nor me, and the special effects haven’t aged well, making that nom into a joke. The score is fine and the nominations for art direction and cinematography (which it won) are legitimate.

So Rebecca, once thought of as a great picture, is now seen as a good one, or in my case, a fair one. It’s shot well enough. It looks pretty. And the hammy acting doesn’t ruin what is a silly story to begin with. Watch it, or don’t watch it. It isn’t worth the energy to promote one choice over the other.

Sep 031940
 
four reels

General Gurko Lanen (George Sanders) controls Lichtenburg with an iron fist, holding the Grand Duchess Zona (Joan Bennett) as his prisonser. Edmund Dantes Jr. (Louis Hayward), son of the famous Count of Monte Cristo, masquerading as a foppish banker, comes to free the beautiful Zona and lead a revolution.

A second tier Swashbuckler, The Son of Monte Cristo is a fun, action romp, low on sense but high on heroics. Owing nothing to its excellent predecessor, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Son follows the basic story of The Scarlet Pimpernel and The Mark of Zorro. There’s lot of gags as Dantes flounces about, pretending to be a fool and coward, and an equal number of sword duels, plus all the leaping and fast talking that mark Swashbucklers. That none of it lives up to the heights of The Adventures of Robin Hood should not be held against it. This is a smaller scale production, with no large sets and a cast that is a bit meager to represent the population of even a tiny country.

Director Rowland V. Lee had a fine Swashbuckling pedigree, having previously made The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), and The Three Musketeers (1935). His two leads had appeared together in The Man in the Iron Mask (1939) and had sufficient chemistry for the love-at-first-sight plot. Hayward had mixed success in his multiple sword epics, but is charming here. Bennett is even better, even if her roll is the generic damsel in distress.

George Sanders makes an excellent villain, and his Gen Lanen is a surprisingly sympathetic one. He’s a commoner, with pride in his past and a desire to be more. He’s smart, strong, and shows a real affection for Zona. It’s not at all clear that he wouldn’t have made as good a ruler as a hereditary queen. But he has enough of a vicious streak to make him the bad guy, and we are in white hat/black hat moral territory.

The bit parts are filled by solid old Hollywood players, including Montagu Love (The Prisoner of Zenda, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Man in the Iron Mask, The Sea Hawk, The Mark of Zorro), Ian Wolfe (You Can’t Take it With You, The Invisible Man’s Revenge, Witness for the Prosecution), and the Lone Ranger himself, Clayton Moore.

This is Saturday afternoon fair, with no more meaning than “bravery is good” and “fight for what is right.” Take it for what it is, and I can’t imagine you won’t have a good time. I’ve seen it easily ten times and it never gets old.

Haywood also appeared in the Swashbucklers The Man in the Iron Mask, The Return of Monte Cristo, The Black Arrow, The Masked Pirate, Fortunes of Captain Blood, Lady in the Iron Mask, and Captain Pirate.

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Aug 241940
 
five reels

The Sea Hawk is a well-filmed, well-acted adventure yarn of pseudo-pirates and romance on the high seas, based, in name only, on a Rafael Sabatini novel.  Errol Flynn plays privateer Geoffrey Thorpe with the charisma and bravado that was his trademark in the 30s and 40s.  For two hours, we are taken into the Swashbuckling world where Thorpe and his loyal crew of misfits sink Spanish ships, free English galley slaves, attack a gold caravan, and foil a traitor’s plans, all for Queen and country.  It’s all great fun, and very familiar.

There’s not much new in The Sea Hawk, but then there’s not much wrong either.  This is Captain Blood, all grown up, or Robin Hood at sea.  There is nothing wrong with repeating something that worked, as originality isn’t the only factor that makes a movie worthwhile.

With that in mind, I can’t critique The Sea Hawk without referencing its two older brothers.  Almost everyone who worked on it had worked in the genre before and knew exactly what to do.  The cast nearly matches that of The Adventures of Robin Hood.  Brenda Marshall takes over for Olivia de Havilland as the proud maiden and love interest and does a more believable job.  The only other major switch is Henry Daniell as arch-villain Lord Wolfingham instead of Robin Hood‘s Basil Rathbone and the film suffers for it.  Daniell does a passable job as a run-of-the-mill villain, but he lacks the spark that made Guy of Gisbourne memorable.  It is hard to take seriously Wolfingham as a suitable foe for Thorpe in the final swordfight, and it doesn’t help that Curtiz makes that fight a look-a-like to the great Robin/Gisbourne fight, even down to repeating the fencing shadows.

Other comparisons turn out better for The Sea Hawk.  The early sea battle is spectacular, far surpassing what Captain Bloodhad to offer.  And there is the music.  This is Korngold at his finest.  It is stirring.  After listening for a few minutes, I wanted to go sink some Spanish ships myself, and I’m pretty much a pacifist.

Warner’s decision to film in b&w was unfortunate.  With its fantasy world of detailed ships and elaborate costumes, The Sea Hawk would have benefited from color, the kind of Technicolor used in Robin Hood.  But Curtiz knew how to use b&w; the scene where Dona Maria stands by the harbor watching the ship leave is haunting.

Historically, there was more to do with 1940s England and its fight against the Nazis than with 1585 and the Spanish.  This was a wartime film, and that set it apart from its brothers.  It is darker.  The heroes have to sacrifice more in their fight—the galley scenes are played quite seriously—just as the English people are being told they will have to in order to defeat the Germans.  Queen Elisabeth’s final patriotic speech was a call to arms to a country at war 400 years out of time.

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Aug 061940
 
two reels

An eccentric scientist (John Barrymore) invents an invisibility machine and puts in ad in the paper for a volunteer subject.  The volunteer turns out to be an adventurous female model, Kitty Carroll (Virginia Bruce).  Soon, mobsters are interested in the machine, and the scientist’s playboy patron  (John Howard) is interested in the girl.

Outside of someone becoming invisible, this slight, romantic comedy has no connection to its namesakes.  Invisibility doesn’t come from a serum nor does it cause insanity.  Instead it comes from a whirling, buzzing machine that would fit into any comedic, mad scientist’s lab.  The invisibility device does cause the subject to crave alcohol, thus precipitating plenty of drunken gags.

As the subject is a woman, there’s a lot of focus on her nudity (she’s invisible, not her clothing).  How else were you going to get a naked girl in a movie in 1940?

It’s not a bad farce, and everyone in it gives amusing performances, including Margaret Hamilton (the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz), Charlie Ruggles, and Shemp Howard (of The Three Stooges), but “amusing” is about as strong a complement as I can come up with.  Even by 1940, the invisibility jests were old hat, with Cary Grant  and Constance Bennett pulling them off better three years earlier in Topper.  While I watched, I found nothing to complain about, nor to cheer at, nor even laugh.  I smiled on occasion.  If I smile is all you want, this will do.

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