Foster on Film – Page 125 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

Fire Over England (1937)

Jun 241937

In a time of conflict between Queen Elizabeth I of England (Flora Robson) and King Philip II of Spain (Raymond Massey), an English privateer ship is captured, resulting in young Michael Ingolby (Laurence Olivier) recovering in secret with a Spanish friend of his father’s and that man’s daughter Elena (Tamara Desni). He returns to England, and his fiancée Cynthia (Vivien Leigh), where his outspoken nature and good looks gets the Queen’s attention. When the traitor Hillary Vane (James Mason) is discovered, Ingolby is sent to Spain in his place, to spy, and again runs into Elena, now married to Don Pedro (Robert Newton).

It’s hard not to take this as a first run at making The Sea Hawk. It has essentially the same plot, the same concern with historical accuracy (i.e. none), the same actress playing Queen Elizabeth, and perhaps most importantly, the same theme. Spain is a stand-in for Germany and the Inquisition fills in for Nazi philosophy. It’s a propaganda film for a war that was forming, while The Sea Hawk was one for a war that was in full bloom. There’s a great deal of talk of the freedom of England compared to the tyranny of Spain. (Free England… Under a dictator… Huh.)

In place of Errol Flynn we have Olivier, who is handsome, but lacks Flynn’s dynamism. He never manages to make his too-loud youth likable as Flynn did with Geoffrey Thorpe. His Ingolby and Leigh’s Cynthia come off as obnoxious brats. Sometimes being pretty isn’t enough.

Fire Over England also lacks the fast movement, witty dialog, and combat, making this a costume drama, not a Swashbuckler. But it is filmed beautifully for its budget, there’s a bit of action, and the characters get much more interesting in the second half. The acting power (and best dialog) is not with the leads, but with the supporting actors, particularly Robson and Massey. Ninety minutes of the two of them chatting would have made for a superior film. But this film isn’t bad and all of the acting is passable, even if Olivier himself had his doubts.

Fire Over England is most famous for giving Vivien Leigh her shot at Gone With the Wind, and for the romance behind the scenes between her and Olivier.

I’d give it an extra half star if The Sea Hawk didn’t exist, but as it does, Fire Over England comes off as a demo by a talented artist and I’d rather hear the coming classic.

Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

The Hound of the Baskervilles {Der Hund von Baskerville} (1937)

Apr 181937

The Baskerville family lives under the curse of a ghostly hound due to the actions of a cruel ancestor. Fear of this has made Lord Charles Baskerville (Friedrich Kayssler) a nervous wreck. He lives alone in the large, dark manner, except for his servants, Barrymore and Frau Barrymore (Fritz Rasp, Lilli Schönborn). He is treated by, and visited often by the jovial Dr. Mortimer (Ernst Rotmund). One night he has two additional guests, misogynist Stapleton (Erich Ponto) and distant relative Beryl Vendeleure (Alice Brandt). Stapleton and Mortimer leave, both because there’s a woman in the house, though one because he’s opposed and the other to grant privacy. And then Charles receives a phone call that causes him to rush out onto the moor where he dies. Charles’s will is a shock to all, as there is a nephew, Henry (Peter Voss) that no one had heard of who will inherit. Mortimer, fearing the curse, asks for the aid of Sherlock Holmes (Bruno Güttner), who sends Dr. Watson (Fritz Odemar) to stay with the new heir. They’re informed on their way that an escaped maniac is hidden in the moor, or has drowned. But that is only the first of multiple strange occurrences.

I’ve seen numerous film adaptations of The Hound of the Baskervilles (and missed multiple as there’s well over twenty), and this one is the most chilling. It’s the second sound version and only German one I’ve watched.

The filmmakers went for horror instead of mystery and succeeded, and did so without sticking in anything glaringly out of place the way the 1959 Hammer version did. The story is relatively close to Conan Doyle’s novel, but the focus is shifted. Since even in the novel the actual mystery is only of secondary importance, it gets little time or attention here. Instead we get an elongated section with Charles before his murder. We see his fear, hear the howls, and spend time in the eerie mansion that seems surrounded by death and decay. Long shadow lay over everyone in the house, both literally and figuratively. It develops a marvelously creepy atmosphere. When the location finally shifts to London we spend only a few minutes there, and barely see Holmes at all. Most of what he does in the book (and in the ’39 or ’59 versions) is cut. And we don’t see him again until the picture is nearly over. Instead, the film keeps to the manner and moors, always under overcast skies, or in darkness. And we get new scenes inside the house, as the men make plans by candlelight. There’s also more of a beautiful woman, who runs about in flowing gowns or capes. This is the way to make a Gothic Old Dark House tale.

If based on structure and editing alone, this would be my favorite version the story. And the art design runs a close second to the Rathbone’s. For character and cast, it slips. I am not a frequent viewer of German films of the 1930s, so was surprised to see Peter Voss twice in a month, the other time in Fährmann Maria where he makes an impression as death. Here he’s barely noticeable, but then no one ever makes much of an impression as Henry. He’s not an interesting character. Odemar’s Watson certainly makes an impression, but it is an uneven one. He’s a bit more eccentric then usual, and more arrogant. Here and there he becomes the comic relief, but more often he’s the lead and he feels like a sidekick. Güttner’s Holmes is fine, which is to say he isn’t bad, and isn’t good, and he really needs to be good. There’s no force to him. He gets the job done, but he won’t be on anyone top 5 list of Holmeses. The rest of the cast do well enough, but in each case, a little worse than in other versions (most notable when comparing to the ’39 version). If this was the only version, I’d probably only have positive things to say about them, but with so many, they need to excel. Luckily coming in 3rd or 5th on character is less of a detriment when you are first in atmosphere.

And I must note that the occasional strains of Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain in the score were distracting.

This isn’t the version you want if you are looking for Holmes. If he is your interest, try any of the others. But if you are looking for a creepy Old Dark House mystery, give this a shot.

Dark House, Horror Tagged with: Three Reels

El superloco {The Super Madman} (1937)

Apr 031937

The mysterious Dr. Dienys (Carlos Villarías) is both feared and mocked by the medical scientific community. And why not, when he experiments with psychic powers with which he has kept himself from aging. He also can directly effect others and controls a monster (Raúl Urquijo) that he keeps in a cell, but no one knows about those last two besides his trusty, knife-wielding servant Idúa (Emilio Fernández). Dr. Alberto (Ramón Armengod) studies under Dr. Dienys, who he holds in great regard. He has virtually abandoned his fiancée Margarita (Consuelo Frank) to spend more time with Dienys, that and rescue his drunken friend Sóstenes (Leopoldo Ortín) from one predicament after another. This upsets Alberto’s aunt Susanita (Aurora Campuzano), with whom he lives, as she questions his behavior toward Margarita and loathes Sóstenes. It will all come to a head when the scientists meet to judge Dienys and Margarita tries out her plan to make Alberto jealous by flirting with Dienys.

Being drunk is funny. Not doing amusing things while drunk, but simply being drunk. That’s the key to El superloco. If you giggle every time you see anyone taking one shot too many, or laugh uproariously at the mere concept of alcoholism, then you’ll love this movie. Everyone else is in for an uneven ride.

Outside of writer-director Juan Bustillo Oro, Mexican cinema had little interest in pure horror; El superloco (released as The Super Madman in the US) is comedy first, horror later. But it doesn’t do that by adding a bit of comedy across the board. Nor does it do it with a comedy relief character as those belong to the supporting cast. Instead it has a horror plot, in which the dialog is serious and the actors play it straight, and a completely separate…hmmm…I’ll call it a plot though it isn’t one…for the comedy. Dienys, Idúa, Alberto, Margarita, the Monster, and the medical association are all in a horror film. No one laughs, no one smiles, and there are no gags. And it’s not a bad little horror story. It isn’t great, in large part because Alberto is such an ass while also being a non-entity. He isn’t ignoring his fiancée is some grand, insane manner like Henry does in Frankenstein, but as a generically crappy boyfriend. Meaning the answer to everything is for Margarita to dump him and move on. But we are clearly supposed to like Alberto and be rooting for these two kids. However, Margarita is engaging, in part because actress Consuelo Frank is stunning. Idúa doesn’t do a lot, but he’s also the kind of fanatical and effective sidekick I want in a horror film, aided by being played by Emilio Fernández, one of the most important actors and later directors of Mexican cinema. Finally we have Carlos Villarías, most famous in the US as Dracula in the Spanish language version that was made alongside the Lugosi one, as Dienys. He’s properly commanding, charming, and a little freaky. The idea of a man who has gained such control that he can master others and stop aging, yet if he gives in to his desires he will lose it all, has potential. And there’s plenty that can be done with Alberto’s obsessive behavior and Margarita’s hurt. So, not great, but not bad.

The problem is El superloco’s horror part isn’t larger than its comedy, nor equal. The comedy non-story dominates. Alberto isn’t the lead. Nor is Margarita. Nor Dienys. That is, none of the people important to the story is the lead. It’s their story, but they are supporting players for Sóstenes and his drunk act. There is around 20 minutes of the horror story in The Super Madman. The rest is Sóstenes getting a funny drink at the bar, doing a funny drunk walk down the street, sneaking to get a funny drink at night, stealing someone else’s drink in a funny manner. Except I didn’t find any of it funny. I don’t think this can work no matter how funny the act is since it is irrelevant to the story. However if the drunk bit had ever made me laugh, that would have helped. Integrating it into the story would have been better—perhaps by making Alberto the drunk.

I am curious how El superloco was written. My guess is the first draft was all horror and then somewhere in pre-production they decided to graft on the drunk routine. Did they stumble upon Leopoldo Ortín’s doing a drunk act at the tent theaters popular at the time and find it so hysterically funny they decided to stick the bit into their film no matter that it didn’t belong? That at least is some kind of explanation.

I won’t call it a total loss as there is something of interest (mild interest) in the horror part. Call it mostly a loss.

Classic Horror, Foreign Language, Horror, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1936)

Oct 241936

In 1830s London, Sweeney Todd (Tod Slaughter) has carved out a successful career by murdering men fresh off ships, splitting the funds they carry with Mrs Lovatt (Stella Rho) who runs the bakery next door. He’s set his mind in a less bloody way on the beautiful Johanna (Eve Lister), daughter of wealthy ship-owner Stephen Oakley (D.J. Williams). She loves a common sailor, Mark (Bruce Seton), who Oakley will not allow near his daughter. Mark goes to sea, while Todd invests in Oakley’s newest ship, with an aim to use that as pressure to get the girl.

The story of Sweeney Todd may or may not have popped up as an urban legend in London, but it became famous as a penny dreadful. It then made it onto the stage, and eventually was used as the basis for multiple silent films. This is the third cinematic version and first sound one, and is a far cry from the popular musical that is known now. There’s no vengeance, no throat cutting, and human meat pies are only implied. Todd simply tips his victims out of a chair to plummet to their deaths below.

This is a very simply made film, primitive for the sound era, and looking and sounding like a picture from 1930. The dialog points back to its penny dreadful roots and the acting is more fitting for the stage. It reminds me of a serial.

If you want sensible characters or a workable plot, this isn’t the place to look. The romance lacks spice and I would have been happy if Mark had been removed from the screenplay. For such a short film, it feels long whenever we’re stuck with our bland lovers and her father. While I’ve no problem calling it horror, Victorian melodrama is a better classification.

Still, there’s fun to be had if you go in with the right state of mind. Slaughter cackles and coos, oozing insanity and evil. He makes for one of the best maniacs of the ‘30s and is the main reason to watch.

It appears to be in the public domain. I found it on a free Android App.

Horror, Poverty Row, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Devil-Doll (1936)

Oct 081936

Unjustly imprisoned Paul Lavond (Lionel Barrymore), escapes from Devil’s Island with mad scientist, Marcel (Henry B. Walthall), who has discovered a way to reduce animals to one sixth their size. Marcel plans to use this to help humanity, but when he dies, Lavond teams up with Marcel’s wife, Malita (Rafaela Ottiano), supposedly to continue the work, but really to get revenge on his three ex-partners who framed him. Disguised as a woman, he opens a doll shop in Paris where he sets his plans in motion, but things are complicated by his bitter daughter (Maureen O’Sullivan), who refuses to marry her kind boyfriend (Frank Lawton) because of her connection to a murderer.

The first, and best, of the many killer doll pictures that have popped up over the years, The Devil-Doll has quite a bit of The Count of Monte Cristo in it, only instead of money, the “hero” has the ability to shrink people. OK, that’s a big difference, but consider: there is the unfairly imprisoned protagonist, the escape with a man who’s secret will give the protagonist power, the compulsion for revenge against the three who cheated him, the plan that takes each separately and proves the protagonist’s innocence, and the young lovers that need some nudging.

Director Tod Browning, who assured his name in film history with Dracula (1931), is a bit more reserved than normal, but puts his ample skills into the project, if not his artistic temperament. The lighting, with ranges of shadows, is wonderful. It’s a good looking and sounding film.

Barrymore is a more substantial actor than you’ll find in most “mad scientist” movies. I could have done with less of his old lady routine, but it’s a fast paced movie, and I never got overly annoyed. I always love Maureen O’Sullivan (have you seen her in Tarzan and His Mate? The Thin Man? The Big Clock?), but her bratty daughter role is too melodramatic. Only the actress’s beauty keeps her watchable. The most Browning-like character is the loony Malita, who is played with comical flamboyance by Rafaela Ottiano.

No question this picture earns its way onto the mad scientist list as these are about the nuttiest scientists I recall seeing. Not evil, just fruitcakes. Frankenstein is a reasonable Joe by comparison. After breaking out of prison, Marcel’s first words to his wife are about his work. Yes, he will save humanity by shrinking everyone because…well…people will have more space…and food will be… I give up. It’s a goofy plan.

The special effects are pretty good for 1936, which still means they aren’t great. But when the shrunken people move about on their own (without normal sized ones in the frame), they’re fun to watch.

None of this was the plan. The Devil-Doll was intended to be a full-on horror picture, but Joseph Breen, hit man for the Production Code, had decided the entire horror genre had to go. He went after The Devil-Doll hard, forcing changes to it until is was a light fantasy movie.

Not a classic of early horror, but a step above the B-movie mad doctors that were filling screens, The Devil-Doll is an intermediate genre picture, and one of the last films that even approached horror that would be made for the next two years.

Back to Mad ScientistsBack to Classic Horror

Classic Horror, Mad Scientists, Mad Scientists, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

Revolt of the Zombies (1936)

Oct 041936

With proof of the existence of a secret, Cambodian, zombie-creating ritual, soft spoken Armand Louque (Dean Jagger) and his bold friend Clifford Grayson (Robert Noland) travel with a team to the ancient city of Angkor. After Armand loses his fiancée (Dorothy Stone) to Clifford, he uses the secret rite to turn anyone in his way into a zombie.

The second zombie film, following 1932’s White Zombie (or the third, if you count The Walking Dead, also in 1936), Revolt of the Zombies is Up Stairs, Down Stairs, with zombies. The upper crust Brits sit around politely chatting while they are served by Cambodians (some as zombies, some not). After a brief attack by zombie soldiers, the film becomes a romance, which isn’t a bad thing if I was watching a romance. For a romance I’d have hired someone other than Dean Jagger, as being romantic is not in his repertoire. Then again, at this point in his career, any kind of acting is not in his repertoire. The rest of the cast isn’t substantially. Eventually, the romance plot fades a bit and the horror-plot takes over…and not much changes. Only in a Monty Python skit about British officers at war have I seen more civilized, stiff-upper-lip folks. Their reaction to Armand becoming a megalomaniac zombie master? “Well, old man, this controlling people’s minds just isn’t very cricket of you.” He’s enslaving and murdering people and no one is all that emotional about it. When he betrays his friend and forces his ex to be his bride, she can’t even bring herself to be cross with him. I want whatever these folks are smoking.

It marches along, slowly, and far too calmly, feeling like a film made in 1930. Then it just winds down. The ending is amusing, and suggests that this could have been a more exciting film.

Made long before the brain-eating, decaying corpses of Romero, anyone expecting blood and body parts is going to be disappointed. These are old time mesmerized zombies.

Back to Zombies

Poverty Row, Reviews, Zombies Tagged with: Two Reels

Mummy’s Boys (1936)

Oct 041936

Stanley Wright and Aloysius C. Whittaker (Bert Wheeler & Robert Woolsey), take jobs as diggers for an archaeologist who plans to return artifacts to a tomb before the curse of the mummy gets him. With the aid of a subservient stowaway (Willie Best), Stanley and Aloysius take over the mission when the archaeologist vanishes.

Early film was filled with vaudevillians, who brought their wisecracking, audience-aware antics to the silver screen. Assuming this brand of humor was ever funny (it was before my time, and pretty much before anyone’s who is above ground), it rarely translated well to film which is both more intimate, as you can get much closer to the actor, and more impersonal, as the audience and the performer cannot interact. Yet the studios kept trying, and for a time, many vaudeville-inspired acts were popular, though time has washed most of this clean from popular culture.

And that leads me to Wheeler and Woolsey, a comic duo completely devoid of anything remotely amusing. Their twenty-one, quicky, low-budget films made a profit, but have rightfully been relegated to the dustbin of time. If you are unfortunate, you might accidentally stumble upon their work. Just keep walking.

Mummy’s Boys is a painfully unfunny feature. Even fans of the duo (if such people still live) admit that this is a morbid undertaking. The main “joke” is that Stanley forgets everything he is told until he has a nap. If there is any way to wring a laugh out of that absurd premise, the writers never figured it out. We aren’t even given the slapstick encounter with a mummy as one isn’t to be found in this mummy movie (makes me think another name for the picture would have been in order), just lots of comments about the mummy’s curse.

To add to the embarrassment, Mummy’s Boys also presents us with the “yesssum sirrr” mumblings of Willie Best in one of his too frequent, 1930’s, racist portrayals. Besides immediately taking on the servant role to the white ditch diggers, the character is so dim that he has no idea how he got into a box, except for saying, “everything went black.” And yes, that was supposed to be a joke.

I find it hard to believe that there was ever a time Wheeler and Woolsey or this poorly written mess were considered entertaining. But if so, that time has passed.

Mummies, Reviews Tagged with: Toxic

Romeo and Juliet (1936) / Romeo and Juliet (1968) / Romeo + Juliet (1996)

Oct 031936

The children of warring families fall in love and secretly marry. Do you really need to be told the plot of Romeo and Juliet?

The play Romeo and Juliet is about two very young lovers who don’t understand the world, and a large number of older people who are out of touch with the young (and don’t understand the world either). Juliet is thirteen, and while Romeo’s age isn’t stated, putting him in his late teens fits the story. Their feelings are true, but they just don’t know what to do about them. Why not just run away instead of attempting a bizarre fake suicide? Because they have barely left childhood. Why does Friar Laurence give such horrible advice? Because he, with his statements that being slow and calm are the best ways, has completely forgotten youth. Don’t trust anyone over thirty? Hell, this play suggests you not trust anyone out of their teens.

Romeo and Juliet (1936)

For the 1936 film adaptation of this story of the generation gap—which makes no sense if the title characters are not very young—producer Irving Thalberg cast his thirty-four year old wife, Norma Shearer, as Juliet and forty-three year old Leslie Howard as Romeo. It is comical watching these middle-aged folks act as high school sophomores. But even more ridiculous is Romeo’s hotheaded, class-clown, friend, Mercutio, portrayed by the fifty-four-year-old John Barrymore. When Mercutio (in Shakespeare’s play) challenges Tybalt, it is as a boy whose pride is hurt, who sees his gang having its “cool” factor stripped away. Here, it is a tired, aging man. Try to make sense of it. The film also crawls, and has had all the sexual innuendo ripped away, but those, and other failing, don’t matter as the casting is enough to sink it. The film is only of interest as an oddity.

Romeo and Juliet (1968)

Franco Zeffirelli got the ages closer in 1968. He cast fifteen-year-old Olivia Hussey as Juliet and while there is a huge difference between fifteen and thirteen, this works pretty well. Zeffirelli put the passion of the play into his film. The romance is believable, exciting, and heartbreaking. Unfortunately, it is also slow. Romeo and Juliet, like most of Shakespeare’s works, needs to move at a lightening pace. Zeffirelli falls into the trap of respecting the words so much he abandons moving the story along. As this makes the story overlong, he cuts important dialog and scenes. That respect also has him cleaning up the crude jokes, which is also unfortunate. But passion is enough to make this watchable.

Romeo + Juliet (1996)

Baz Luhrmann updated the setting for his 1996 Romeo + Juliet, (sometimes entitled William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet in case the gen-Xers it was made for are unaware who wrote the play or are easily offended by the word “and”). The modern city is fine; it isn’t as if the play hasn’t been moved around before. His actors are a bit too old (Claire Danes is seventeen and looks older) for the confusion they display, and Luhrmann does his best to distract viewers from the story with explosions and helicopter blades, but all that could be forgiven.

What makes this a toxic mess is the delivery. It’s OK if the audience doesn’t know the play, but it would be nice if the actors showed some sign that they knew it. Outside of Pete Postlethwaite (Father Laurence), no one appears to know what the words they say mean. It doesn’t help that half the lines are mumbled. No one who knows the story only from this version can possibly understand it. I challenge anyone who has never read the play or seen another production to explain what the hell Mercutio is saying about his dream. It must be important as he is excitedly talking for quite some time. Luckily, I have read the play, and seen reasonable productions, so I do understand the lines (and could fill in the parts that were inaudible). Too bad the entire production wasn’t inaudible.

Reviews, Shakespeare

As You Like It (1936)

Sep 281936

Orlando (Laurence Olivier), kept from the life he should have as a gentleman by his cruel older brother (John Laurie), leaves town for the forest of Ardenne, where the usurped duke (Henry Ainley) lives with a merry band of exiles. At the same time, the new duke, Frederick (Felix Aylmer), banishes his niece, Rosalind (Elisabeth Bergner), the old duke’s daughter. As she has seen Orlando and fallen in love with him, she disguises herself as a boy and, with the Duke’s daughter, Celia (Sophie Stewart), heads to the forest as well. The forest, which has near-magical restorative properties on all, is soon filled with confused lovers, misunderstandings, and reconciliations.

A mannered and stage-like adaptation that displays a more than average collection of talent, As You Like It stands as an encyclopedia of the wrong choices available in putting Shakespeare on the silver screen. For much of its ninety-six minute running time (the play is trimmed, but I could find no additions), no one connected to the production seems to realize it’s a comedy. Considering this is a story where life-and-death struggles and hatreds are resolved in seconds, and with no “on-stage” action from the protagonists (Orlando’s brother changes his behavior between scenes and Frederick is converted and abdicates after a brief chat with a holy man), it is pivotal to play up the humor. The fault lies with producer-director Paul Czinner, but it is most noticeable in Olivier. This was his first appearance in a Shakespearian film, and it would be ten years before he made another. He went on to become the most important figure in cinematic Shakespeare, for good or ill. Here, he makes Orlando a lackluster dramatic figure.

Poorly paced, with attractive but obviously fake backdrops, and artificial enunciation, it is hard to find anything done completely right. But as most elements aren’t done completely wrong either, it might have been of minor scholastic interest except for Elisabeth Bergner. She was a German stage and screen actress who moved to England in 1933 with her husband, Paul Czinner. While she had played Rosalind on the German stage, it is hard to fathom what Czinner and Bergner thought they were doing placing her in the lead. Either she had no idea that a stage play and a movie were different things, or Czinner was so confused. Whatever the case, she overacts with glee, throwing her arms about like she’s waving to someone leaving on a train. But far worse than her ill-conceived interpretation of Rosalind is her accent. With everyone else speaking as if they take tea daily with the Queen, Bergner’s thick Teutonic speech patterns are a distraction. It would be as fitting to stick Arnold Schwarzenegger as Prince Hal in Henry IV or have an overweight white guy play Othello—wait, they did that. Hmm.

Back to Fantasy

Reviews, Shakespeare Tagged with: One Reel

San Francisco (1936)

Sep 251936

Blackie (Clark Gable) is a pleasant, heroic, good guy who runs an exceptionally nice night club but is somehow thought of as scandalous. Huh. That doesn’t make sense, but onward. Blackie spends his time, when not doing the most respectable disreputable things possible, with old friend Father Mullin (Spencer Tracy). Into his club comes prissy opera singer Mary (Jeanette MacDonald), so he hires her and falls for her… Huh. That doesn’t make sense either. The local respectable opera impresario and slumlord (Jack Burley) also wants Mary, both for her singing and romantically, and also wants to stop Blackie from running for public office because he likes fires—more or less. Eventually the San Francisco earthquake hits, which is the reason the film was made.

In the year of My Man Godfrey and The Petrified Forest, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences decided to nominate a melodramatic disaster film for Best Picture as well as Best Actor, Director, Writing, Assistant Director (yes, that was a category), and Sound Recording, and gave the Oscar to it for sound. That was a peculiar thing to do, but who doesn’t love a disaster film?

So, looking for a disaster film? Well, you’re going to have to wait. First you have to spend some time with Gable as the purist rogue that’s ever lived clowning around with Tracy’s annoying priest. And then you’re going to have to listen to Jeanette MacDonald sing. And then sing some more. And then talking and arguing in the foreground as MacDonald sings in the background. Then some more singing. Then some more arguing intertwined with singing. The songs are no more exciting than the story but they take up more time.

Watching all that singing is Blackie, the kind of sleazy that only exists in cinema. He’s rough and tough and gives organs to the church because that’s what rough and tough guys do. His bar and gambling casino is supposed to be seedy, but looks like the best four star restaurant, with everyone in tuxes. And this fake shady character is the most realistic part of the film. No one acts human, no relationship is real (or amusing), and the story is just stuck together as an excuse to put these stars in the same picture with an earthquake.

The acting is somewhere left of terrible. Tracy is often overrated, but here he’s not even trying, mugging for the camera from time to time. It’s hard to say what Gable is doing. My guess is he didn’t take the film seriously and was just goofing off. At least MacDonald makes sense. She could never act, and here she continues her tradition. She was a singer, not an actress, and it shows; it always shows. She has zero chemistry with Gable which is no shock. Chemistry has nothing to do with her and Gable wasn’t bothering. As for that singing, well, MacDonald has skill, but the music doesn’t fit. A rap tune wouldn’t either, nor would a hour long symphony. To the extent that this flick calls out for anything, it calls for jazz. The all too frequent pauses for opera, and operafied pop vary between unnecessary and painful. It isn’t here because the story demanded it, but because studio bosses had to figure out places to put MacDonald. Her final version of San Fransico is pretty good, but can’t make up for the rest.

And then after 90 minutes the earthquake hit with zero warning or buildup and… it’s good. Really good. The special effects are amazing for 1936 and not bad now (some rear screen work is too obvious). There’s a real feeling of weight as buildings fall. And Clark Gable begins to act. The reasonable cinematography shoots up to top notch. I didn’t think W.S “One-Shot Woody” Van Dyke had it in him. It’s like a whole different movie. The cheap unbearable melodrama became solid drama.

Then it’s all brought low by an ugly religious ending that seems to say that it’s good for God to murder lots of people and destroy cities in order for people to worship him. Apparently Gable found it as offense as I do, but he was getting paid and under contract. It’s a spectacularly unpleasant ending.

Disaster, Overrated Films, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Satan Met a Lady (1936)

Sep 231936

In this lighthearted version of The Maltese Falcon, con artist Ted Shayne (Warren William in the Spade role) was just kicked out of town so drums up some business for his old partner Ames (Porter Hall in the Archer role) and then rejoins his detective agency in another city. He, of course, hits on secretary Miss Murgatroyd (Marie Wilson in the Effie role) and Ames’s wife, before Valerie Purvis (Bette Davis in the O’Shaughnessy role) pops in to hire them to find the man who jilted her. The job is a fake and Ames ends up dead. It turns out Purvis is connected to eccentric Englishman Anthony Travers (Arthur Treacher in the Cairo role), famous criminal mastermind Madame Barabbas (Alison Skipworth in the Gutman role), and youthful killer Kenneth (Maynard Holmes in the Wilmer role), all of whom are searching for an animal horn filled with jewels.

This second of three adoptions of The Maltese Falcon in ten years has the worst reputation, but I prefer it to the first as it has a reason to exist, and so, there’s a reason to watch it. It’s different, closer to a comedy than to Noir. The 1931 version is just a pale take on the 1941 masterpiece with a misunderstanding of Sam Spade. This one, for good or ill, mainly ill, is something different. The changes come because Warner Bros wasn’t making this due to the book it is based on or the previous movie, but rather due to the success of the witty and playful The Thin Man movie. They wanted more like that, or rather, they wanted more they could sell in the same way. So, another fun breezy mystery based on a work by the same author seemed to be the ticket. Change the name and they could ignore the book in advertising, replacing it with “By the author of The Thin Man” and change the character names and the item they were searching for and maybe no one would notice they’d tried this five years earlier.

The story changes were substantial from the book and older movie, but far less than in a majority of film adaptations of novels. The real change is in tone. Everything is light. Murders are no big thing and no one is taken seriously. Warren William laughs through his lines—really, he seldom recites a full line without a giggle. Shayne is past being happy and is clearly on some really effective drugs. Purvis laughs less but also seems to care less, which is fitting as Bette Davis didn’t care, only showing up after she was suspended by WB. Arthur Treacher plays Travers the same way William plays Shayne and I have to assume at least the two of them were having a good time on set. And Miss Murgatroyd is around for dumb blonde comedy at all times (she even gets a scene where she forgets how to spell her name).

Yes, it is all pretty dumb, but then it wasn’t trying to be smart. It was trying to be fun, and to a mild degree, it succeeds. The cast (minus Davis) is game for the task and if the jokes don’t all land, enough do to make me occasionally smile. No, it can’t stand up against the Huston/Bogart The Maltese Falcon, but then few films can and this one isn’t trying. It doesn’t have anything to say, the characters have no depth, and it had no effect on the history of motion pictures. But, as an oddity, it isn’t a bad time.

Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

Ouanga (1936)

Aug 191936

Klili doing her voodoo dance

Klili Gordon (Fredi Washington), a plantation owner and voodoo priestess, has had a two year affair with white man Adam Maynard (Philip Brandon), but on his travels to the United States, he’s gotten engaged to a white woman and is bringing her back to the islands. The black overseer (Sheldon Leonard—yes, Jewish Sheldon Leonard, who’d later produced The Dick Van Dyke Show, and no, he isn’t in blackface) wants Klili for his own and tries to convince her to stick to her own kind. But Klili isn’t going to give up, and after begging Adam to take her, resorts first to a curse, and then to raising zombies.

In the ‘30s there were a substantial number of “race movies” made, with mostly black casts and crews and intended for purely black audiences in segregated theaters, though they were made by white-owned companies and often had a white director. These movies had tiny budgets, even by the standards of Poverty Row. They didn’t get good equipment or the training to use it. Few of the actors were pros and little care was given to hiring skilled people behind the cameras (director George Terwilliger was a silent filmmaker who hadn’t worked in 10 years). Surprisingly the depiction of blacks wasn’t much better in “race movies” than in more mainstream ones. Some of these films would be set (and perhaps filmed) outside of the US, as in this case in the West Indies, but would normally include a male comic relief character from Harlem. (Ouanga was set to film in Haiti with part of the team doing research by watching an actual voodoo service, but they offended the locals and one or two crew members ended up dead—the number is as vague as what exactly happened—so they moved to Jamaica). Another aspect common to these films is how pale skinned the black leads are. I would not have guessed that Washington was black if I hadn’t read it.

With all that, Ouanga is… interesting. It is poorly made. Let’s make that terribly made. The editing is primitive, causing the film to leap from the ridiculous prologue on how nice the islands are and the terrors of voodoo to a dance at a voodoo ceremony (that doesn’t look too bad) and then onto a ship at some unknown time later. Well, it doesn’t drag due to those wild jumps. Nothing indicates that anyone involved knew how to make a movie. But it also is one of the first voodoo horror films and is the second zombie film ever made. And while the cast is generally dreadful, Fredi Washington has plenty of charisma. Her acting only rises a touch above the others, but natural charm makes up for a lot.

While many “race movies” avoided direct commentary on black/white racial relationships, Ouanga dives in. It’s filled with lines like:

“You belong with your kind”
“Am I not as beautiful, as white?”
“She’s his kind. She’s white.”
“Your white skin doesn’t change what’s inside you. You’re black.”

Race commentary in a horror movie could be great stuff, but that requires some artistry and skill, and none is to be found here. At times you could read Ouanga as racist and at others you could read it as fighting racism. If there’s a message, and I’m not sure that there is, it’s “Stick to your own kind.”

Ouanga doesn’t approach being good or competently made, and has a “questionable” theme, if I’m being charitable, but between Washington dancing and the zombies, it isn’t a movie that horror fans should ignore.

It was loosely remade as The Devil’s Daughter (1939).

Horror, Poverty Row, Reviews, Zombies Tagged with: Two Reels

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