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The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Feb 131938

I can’t decide what hits me hardest when I watch The Adventures of Robin Hood, the beauty of the film or the sheer joy in it. This is the film where everybody got it right.

Let me start with the colors. Technicolor was new to film in 1938 and for this one film, it was spectacular. Crisp, bright, and dazzling, it wasn’t quite real, but how reality should be. You go to an art museum to see paintings that don’t match the world, yet have a greater connection to it than any exact replica—the same goes for the colors in The Adventures of Robin Hood. The forest is radiant, every leaf gleaming. Castle walls sparkle. Costumes glow. It amazes me that after 66 years, no one has managed to capture that look again.

To accompany the luminous visuals, Erich Wolfgang Korngold wrote a score that stands on its own as symphonic art while managing to merge into the film. The merry men would never have been so merry without Korngold’s lighthearted march. The romance between Robin and Marian, given its brief screen-time, would have lacked emotional depth without Korngold’s idyllic melody. This is one of the great film scores, topped, if at all, only by another Korngold composition.

The story is less complicated than the art direction, but that isn’t a flaw. It’s iconic. The basic tale, in one form or another, has been with humanity since we started telling stories around blazing fires. There is the great hero who doesn’t follow rules, the beautiful maiden to inspire him, friends to stand with him through all things, and the evil that must be defeated. And this version is told with humor, rapid pacing, and exciting swordfights.

Errol Flynn plays the iconic hero, and is one of the reasons why a film like this could never be made now. Flynn is often underrated because he didn’t play in dry, slice-of-life dramas that people like to pretend are important. Any number of actors can slide into those roles but no one could replace Flynn. He wore green tights and a little hat, swung from trees, tossed his head back for bellowing laughs, and made grand speeches, and did it all without looking silly or effeminate. Anyone who can wear that costume and come off as tough has talent. I can’t watch an Errol Flynn film without liking him, and he puts all his charm and masculinity into Robin Hood. The Adventures of Robin Hood, is fun from beginning to end, and much of that comes from Flynn. It isn’t that it looks like Flynn is having a good time, but rather that Robin is having a good time, and that is vital to the movie.

Flynn was backed by a near perfect supporting cast, all of whom were able to let the audience know their character in seconds. With an inflection from Rathbone, we know the vicious nature of Sir Guy. A smile from Rains reveals the megalomania of Prince John where a similar smile from Hale exposes Little John’s rugged but amiable nature. In just over an hour and a half, we know eleven characters well; that’s quite a feat since for most films, we’re lucky to get to know two or three. Granted, they only have a few levels of depth, but they are more than cardboard cutouts, and they are believable in their relative simplicity. Olivia de Havilland is the only one whose portrayal feels forced, but it is sufficient.

Virtuoso director Michael Curtiz pulls all the pieces together. He knew exactly how long to stay with a scene, or a line, to raise the tension or get a laugh. The Adventures of Robin Hood contains his signature swordfight, with the shadows fencing behind Flynn and Rathbone. The scene has been copied many times, even by Curtiz, and much later by George Lucus, but this was the original. The Adventures of Robin Hood is not a perfect picture, but it is close. A day-for-night scene looks like day, an exterior castle shot is obviously an interior set, and the over cranking of the camera for several fight scenes is dated, but any flaws are minor ones.

If you feel the need for a meaningful theme in your films, one can certainly be found. The Adventures of Robin Hood presents a way of life, and does it better than any other film. It suggests that to have a good life, you need to do the right thing, the ethical thing, but not in some holy, righteous manor. Happiness can be found in right action, mixed with wild behavior, a certain amount of anarchy, and a strong questioning of any authority. Robin rarely makes the best choice on how to help others, rather he makes the fun choice. And that allows him, or anyone, to keep helping, which is far more important than doing it all properly once. That’s worthy of Buddha.

Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Five Reels

Song at Midnight (1937)

Oct 271937

An acting troop, including young lead Sun Xiaoou (Chau-Shui Yee) and his girlfriend Liu Die (Xu Manli), arrives at a dilapidated theater, and are greeted by only Zheng (Wang Weilyi), the guardian of the theater and a hunchback with a monstrous appearance, that no one ever mentions. They set to work on a new opera, but Sun has problems performing his song. He is helped by a mysterious voice that sings his part, which turns out to belong to Song Danping (Shan Jin), a star who supposedly died ten years ago. With the show a big success, Sun seeks out Song, who lives in the attic. Song then tells him of his life. He was a revolutionary, fighting the good fight for the people and to join the country together. But after three years he became disheartened and stopped fighting to join a theater company, where his incredible mastery of music took him quickly to the top. He was always afraid that his revolutionary activities would get him in trouble, but it turned out that old fashioned jealousy was his downfall. Song and a local rich girl Li Xiaoxia (Ping Hu) became lovers, but local tough Tung (Gu Menghe) wanted Li for himself, so he told her father that Song was a lowlife. Her father was an old fashioned elitist, who had connections with local warlords. He had Song whipped, but when this didn’t make Li fall for Tung (yes, Tung seemed to think that this would win her over… He’s not a bright guy) he threw nitric acid on Song, disfiguring his face and hands. Horrified by his appearance, he faked his death, which drove Li insane. She has stayed in her room all these years in a fugue state, and Song would sing to her at night to comfort her broken mind. But now, Song has a plan to save her, while Sun has his own plan, and neither of them realize that Tung is still around and owns the theater.

The Chinese critics in ’37 found this too Western of a film, which makes it easier for me to review, as it means I’m less likely to be missing some cultural differences in how we see film. Though perhaps they would find any horror too Western and this was China’s first horror film, inspired by The Phantom of the Opera, with a touch of Frankenstein thrown in at the end.

It is at times beautiful. Li walking between the columns as Sun sings is a mystical and romantic image. But as a whole it doesn’t work. The editing is a major problem, with many scenes running too long. Others not long enough. There are pauses when there shouldn’t be, and then jumps. The flashback goes on and on, both taking up too much time and moving too slowly. The music is another flaw. Not the diegetic music. Song or Sun singing is always good, though a few pieces could be shortened. It’s the nondiegetic music. Cues from various Western symphonic music are roughly edited in, starting and stopping mid note, including Night on Bald Mountain and Rhapsody in Blue. To say they don’t fit would be an understatement.

I can’t blame writer/director Weibang Ma-Xu for the political content, much as I’d like to. In order to get the film past the censors, he had to add a theme of patriotic revolution, which included the struggle of the masses and for all Chinese to come together to fight off outsiders. It’s very odd when in the middle of a romantic scene, Song or Sun suddenly blurt out about the “struggle” and how we must always fight. Dude, she just wants you to hold her.

But the problem is larger. Song at Midnight is shot in the language and style of a silent film. Movements are too broad for something not further removed from reality. scenes are structured to tell the story visually, without dialog, and then we get a lot of dialog. You could cut 90% of the lines, and put the rest of intertitles, and you’d have a fine silent film. You’d want keep the diegetic songs, but that’s it. Not only could that have been done, it should have been. As is we get endless conversations, which tell us little to nothing, are performed poorly, and kill the pacing. Song at Midnight is worth seeing as an important moment in Chinese cinema, but not for its quality.

Artists, Asian, Classic Horror, Foreign Language, Horror, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Sep 271937

The joy of this film comes from listening. Ronald Colman’s voice is nearly an institution; add in the voices of Douglas Fairbanks Jr., C. Aubrey Smith, Raymond Massey, and David Niven and the picture becomes almost unnecessary.

Important, Important Swashbucklers Tagged with: Five Reels

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Sep 241937

I’ve always thought of the The Prisoner of Zenda as a “smart” Swashbuckler, and it is, in dialog, character, and structure, if not in story. The action is first rate, but secondary to the film, for in this case, it is all about words—superbly crafted words—and the voices that pronounce them. While fun to watch, the true joy of this film comes from listening. Ronald Colman’s voice is nearly an institution and he never sounded better. Add in the voices of Douglas Fairbanks Jr., C. Aubrey Smith, Raymond Massey, and David Niven, and the images become almost unnecessary.

The story has been redone many times (has there been a sitcom that didn’t have an episode where a character found he was the double of a noble?), but there is no feeling of cliché here. Englishman Rassendyll (Colman) arrives in a small English-speaking, Germanic country the day before the coronation of his look-a-like cousin (also played by Colman). When the king is drugged, Rassendyll is persuaded by loyal Col. Zapt (played with gruff lovability by Smith) and valiant Capt. von Tarlenheim (Niven, in a supporting role that moved him from bit player to star) to take the place of the king for a day. When the “play-actor” king appears, Rupert of Hentzau (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) kidnaps the real, unconscious king for Black Michael, the king’s illegitimate half brother (Raymond Massey). It’s up to Rassendyll to rescue the king and keep it a secret that he was ever captured.

Massey was, for many years, remembered for his portrayal of Lincoln, but it is his sinners that will leave a permanent mark on the history of film. He had already portrayed the zealot, Citizen Chauvelin, in The Scarlet Pimpernel, infusing him with such righteous malevolence that I found myself hating this fictitious character. Seven years later, he would bring humor to the murderer, Jonathan Brewster, in Arsenic and Old Lace. But Michael was his best creation. With relatively little screen time, Massey makes a multilayered, sympathetic, monster. Michael is flawed, but I understand him, particularly as it is likely he would have made a better king than his drunken brother.

Even with Massy and Colman putting in the best performances of their carriers, it is Fairbanks that steals the film. Hentzau is suave, witty, and playful. He jokes as he kills. He’s more than happy to run from a fight, but not because he is a coward; he simply sees no reason to stick around. Fairbanks has the charm and sex appeal to pull off the role, and in their climatic battle, it is sometimes hard to root against him.

Both the scenes with the heroes planning their intrigues and those with the villains plotting their treacheries are well paced, crisp, and fun, but The Prisoner of Zenda becomes one of the finestSwashbucklers when Rassendyll and Hentzau confront each other. It is a contrivance of the genre that swordfights contain breaks for banter, and hereThe Prisoner of Zenda is only rivaled by The Princess Bride.

There is also a romance, between the false king and the soon to be queen, Princess Flavia. It is perfectly done, though not what makes the film memorable.

A few things don’t play out so smartly

With so much clever going on, it is best not to think about the story. Rassendyll just happens to show up in the country at the needed moment for a fishing trip? The king just happens to run across him in the woods (I know it’s a small country, but not that small). That’s a bit too coincidental. Even better to ignore that this is a dictatorial little country where a few feudal lords have the power of life and death over a repressed populous. Is it a country worth saving? Would it be any worse if our heroes lost? Ah, but this is a fairytale land, where having a princess in a really nice dress is all the politics that is necessary. Besides, all that is just window dressing to a tale of heroism and loyalty. A different kind of flaw comes from the ages of the main characters. Madeleine Carroll is about ten years too old to have been transformed from a young girl into a beautiful woman in the last three years as the dialog suggests. And Coleman is about the same amount too old to be a young king just being crowned. Apparently, ages where taken from the book, and not altered to fit the actors. It’s a little thing, but they really should have known better.

The few flaws take little away from this engaging work.

Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Five Reels

Sh! The Octopus (1937)

Sep 091937

Police detectives Kelly (Hugh Herbert) and Dempsey (Allen Jenkins) were fixing a flat tire in a rainstorm when they were interrupted by Vesta (Marcia Ralston), a hysterical woman in distress, who reports that her stepfather has been killed in a lighthouse. They race to the spot to find it occupied by an artist (John Eldredge), who’s just bought it from the government. The lighthouse quickly fills with an array of odd characters, including deranged Captain Hook (George Rosener), relatively stable Captain Cobb (Brandon Tynan), completely dry shipwreck victim Polly (Margaret Irving), and Vesta’s Nanny (Elspeth Dudgeon). The lighthouse may also be the headquarters for The Octopus, a nefarious criminal, as well as under attack from an actual, giant octopus. The two detectives must deal with a fake corpse, poison gas, a submarine, ominous proclamations from an bodiless voice, glowing eyes, a hag, a death ray, and no one ever telling them the truth, that’s assuming there is something called the truth..

If you can have an Old Dark House film, why not an Old Dark Lighthouse film?

It amazes me how many of these ‘30s mystery horror films were stage plays first. That amazement is magnified in this case. The play, Sh, The Octopus, ran for 2 months in New York in 1928, and was a parody not of first generation Old Dark House mystery plays, but of the parodies of those plays. So we’ve got a parody of a parody. Credit is also given to the author of the play, The Gorilla, though any direct connection to that play seems to have vanished in rewrites. The Gorilla made its own way into film three time, first in 1927, then in 1930 (now lost), and finally in 1939. I have no doubt that Sh, The Octopus was an odd play as Sh! The Octopus is an odd movie.

Hugh Herbert and Allen Jenkins play pretty much the same characters they were known for in all their pictures, with Herbert making strange “whooping” sounds at the end of his sentences and Jenkins being eternally frustrated. I’m not a fan of Herbert’s—too vaudeville for me, which makes sense as that’s where he came from—but have frequently enjoyed Jenkins in third banana roles. Here they are all comedy, and their jokes doesn’t work for me. Mistaking being told to look for a painter’s palette for being told to look at the roof of a guy’s mouth is the height of their comedy.

However, the rest of it works for me (almost…). Everyone else is in some kind of absurdist philosophical work, or are just confused. The result is less of a narrative, and more what I’d expect from an improv troop. Characters switch personalities almost as often as identities. Few setups have payoffs and most comments lead nowhere. Things just happen. Why are there glowing eyes? What’s the submarine doing? Why was a body hung from the roof? Why does everyone have matching wallets? Nothing matters and nothing makes sense, and it is kind of refreshing, perhaps because at under an hour it doesn’t give you time to become frustrated.

There’s an attempt at an explanation, and it’s horrible, going to the cheapest trick in storytelling, and it doesn’t even work since it doesn’t explain the scene before we meet our two leads. I suggest you turn off the movie two minutes before the end (you’ll know when) and just bask in the ridiculousness of life.

Classic Horror, Dark House, Horror, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Prince and the Pauper (1937)

Aug 111937

Edward (half of the Mauch Twins), Prince of England, encounters Tom Canty (the other half of the Mauch Twins), a look-a-like begger child, and the two switch places a short time before the king dies. The Earl of Hertford (Claude Rains), discovering the truth, plans to control Tom as king, and have Edward assassinated. But Edward meets Miles Hendon (Errol Flynn), a charming soldier, who protects him.

Mark Twain’s book is far in the rear-view-mirror of my life. I vaguely remember it to be aimed at a younger audience, and yet, to contain a touch of satire. The film version strips away any satire, and lowers the age range of the intended audience. This is a kids film, much to its detriment. The twin child actors are annoying, partly due to them being forced to act younger and stupider than their age and position should dictate. And as this is a kid’s film, each, though mainly Edward, must learn a very simple lesson. They are surrounded by gruff, and often overly sincere actors who are nearly as painful to watch. Claude Rains and Alan Hale, as the Captain of the guard and potential assassin) manage well enough with what they are given, though neither is at his peek.

That leaves Flynn, and he’s the saving grace of the whole mess. He is charming and flamboyant, as was his norm in the later half of the ‘30s. He is also the only thing that makes this a Swashbuckler. All the swordplay is his, and it isn’t anything special, but it is still Flynn with a rapier which makes it better than most cinematic duels. Flynn is given top billing after his success in Captain Blood. Based on screen time, it is undeserved. He doesn’t appear till half way though the film and is in and out of the rest of the film. But if we go by reasons to watch The Prince and the Pauper, his name was right where it needed to be.

Errol Flynn’s Swashbucklers/pseudo-Swashbucklers are: Captain Blood (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), The Sea Hawk (1940), Adventures of Don Juan (1948), Against All Flags (1951), Adventures of Captain Fabian (1951), The Master of Ballantrae (1953), and Crossed Swords (1954), The Dark Avenger/The Warriors (1955).

Back to Swashbucklers

Reviews, Swashbucklers Tagged with: Two Reels

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.

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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.

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Poverty Row, Reviews, Zombies Tagged with: Two Reels

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