Gregory Peck looks like the way I felt watching this movie.
As I’ve mentioned a time or two in previous posts, I am a member of a classic movie meetup group that continued to flourish throughout the pandemic; each week, we’re assigned an old movie that’s available on YouTube, and then we gather via Zoom to discuss it. Moderated by Steven Reginald over at Classic Movie Man, these weekly events offer lively discussions and interesting and varied opinions on classic movies, and served to be a beacon of light for me in this otherwise otherworldly past year.
A recent film that was viewed by the group was The Paradine Case, one of the movies that was featured in last year’s Giant end-of-year Dark Pagesissue, which focused on films released in 1947. I’d never seen the movie, but I’ve always been intrigued by the promising combination of star Gregory Peck and director Alfred Hitchcock, and I was looking forward to what would surely be a memorable cinematic experience.
As it turned out, the film was memorable, but for all the wrong reasons.
But let me start at the beginning. Set in England, The Paradine Case centers on Maddalena Paradine (Alida Valli – credited only as ‘Valli’), who is accused of poisoning her blind husband, Colonel Paradine. She is defended by Tony Keane (Peck), a hotshot lawyer whose happy marriage to Gay (Ann Todd) hits the skids when Tony falls head over heels for his client. Also on hand are Judge Lord Thomas Horfield (Charles Laughton), who presides over the court proceedings; Horfield’s wife Lady Sophie (Ethel Barrymore); and Andre Letour (Louis Jourdan), the devoted valet for the deceased Paradine patriarch. With such a stellar cast, and a production helmed by the master of suspense himself, I would never have dreamed that I would dislike this film as much as I did. But I did. Let’s take a closer look at the reasons why, starting with . . .
Tony Keane.
See the expression on Mrs. Paradine’s face? That’s about as good as it gets.
Let me say here and now, I love Gregory Peck – To Kill a Mockingbird, Duel in the Sun, The Gunfighter, Yellow Sky, The Yearling – I mean, come on! The man is a cinematic giant (not to mention incredibly easy on the eye)! But I just wasn’t feeling him in this film. I didn’t like his character’s weak nature, his illogical decisions, and the way he so easily turned his back on his seemingly ideal wife and marriage for a woman he barely even knew. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have a problem with silver screen infidelity, but this just didn’t make sense! Speaking of not making sense, it was primarily due to . . .
Mrs. Paradine.
Alida Valli was excellent in The Third Man, which was released two years after this feature, but in Paradine, I was completely turned off by her zombie-esque performance. She was totally expressionless most of the time – she only caught my attention when she was venting her hatred toward Peck’s character and, frankly, by that time, I’d pretty much given up on the entire production. Her acting was so wooden that it seemed farfetched that she would not only entice the very-married Tony Keane, but also . . .
Andre Letour.
As played by Louis Jourdan in his American film debut, Letour was one of the few characters who halfway piqued my curiosity. To be honest, though, I was only interested in him during his appearance in the film’s (lengthy) courtroom trial, where his previously staid persona frequently erupted into emotional outbursts. Other than these moments, I found him to be almost as boring as . . .
At first, Gay and Tony displayed a playful, sexy relationship that was fun to watch. But then ol’ Stoneface Paradine entered the picture and I just didn’t care anymore.
Gay Keane.
Tony’s doting, loyal wife, Gay Keane was, to me, as dull as dishwater. She was unquestionably incisive, as she was able to detect her husband’s wandering affections before he was aware of them himself. And she was also wise, realizing that if Mrs. Paradine lost her case and was sentenced to death, her husband would be inextricably bound to her. But while some may see the positive aspects of this noble creature, she was simply annoying to me – too virtuous and perfect and self-sacrificing for me to bear. As she said to her husband in one scene, “You’ve been my life for such a long time, Tony. Do you think I could ever want anything bad for you?” Blecch. But Gay wasn’t the only character who annoyed me; this emotion was also directed toward . . .
Lady Sophie Horfield.
I confess that I simply did not understand the purpose of this character. Her husband – the judge – treats her like crap, humiliating her in front of guests and browbeating her when they were alone, turning her into a stammering, anxious, self-conscious shell of a woman. She was only in two or three scenes, but she could just as easily not been in any, and it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. The fact that she was played by Ethel Barrymore, and that Barrymore received an Oscar nomination for the role, is beyond me.
And if my feelings about these characters weren’t enough to solicit my thumbs-down on this feature, there was . . .
The writing.
Riveting dialogue. RIVETING, I tell you!
Let me just give you an illustration. This is the scene where Andre Letour appears at the door of the room in the inn where Tony Keane is staying.
Letour: Can I have a word with you, sir?
Keane: Come in. What can I do for you?
Letour: It is not a question very easy to answer.
Keane: How did you know that this was my room?
Letour: I saw you come up from the lake shore. And then this light go on.
Keane: You’ve been watching the inn for some time?
Letour: Yes. I walked over from Henley.
Keane: To see me?
Letour: Yes sir. It came to my mind it would be well to see you.
Keane: Sit down. Why didn’t you come to the front door? What was your object in coming in the back way?
Letour: They’d all gone to bed, sir, and I didn’t want to disturb the household.
Keane: But you might have come earlier.
Letour: I didn’t care to come earlier, sir.
Keane: Why not?
Letour: I’ll leave that to you, sir.
OH. MY. GOD. Are you SERIOUS. What is the point??? Is there one???? I found so much of the dialogue in the film to be like this – just completely inane, unnecessary, interminable exchanges. It was all I could do to keep from falling out of my chair.
Laughton was everything. But not enough.
In fact, I had only one favorable impression about The Paradine Case, and that was the character played by Charles Laughton: Judge Horfield. Every time he appeared on screen, he instantly became the focal point for me, whether he was hitting on Gay Keane during a dinner party (by literally grabbing her hand and putting it on his leg), or making wry remarks during the court proceedings. In my favorite part of the trial, he drew the laughter of the trial onlookers (as well as my own) when Tony Keane tried to cast aspersions on the character of Andre Letour, referencing his “pathological bias” against women because he’d once had a fiancé who left him at the altar. Horfield observes, “I may be stupid, but I fail to understand what this jilting has to do with the case. After seeing the witness and observing his appearance and bearing, I should be inclined to regard the young lady’s conduct as pathological, not his.”
Unfortunately, Laughton’s performance wasn’t enough to make me appreciate this picture – nor was the film’s direction by Alfred Hitchcock, who is one of my favorites. And from what I’ve read, Hitchcock wasn’t much happier with the film than I was. According to Hitchcock’s biographer, Donald Spoto, the film’s screenplay was re-written on a daily basis by producer David O. Selznick, who was notorious for meddling and micro-managing the movies under his banner. Spoto also stated that Selznick dictated more than 400 memos before filming ended, which surely transformed the movie into something vastly different than what Hitchcock had originally intended. The bottom line is, I didn’t care for this movie, I was disappointed after looking so forward to seeing a new-to-me Hitchcock feature, and I will definitely not be indulging in any repeat viewings.
But in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I was one of the few members of the discussion group who didn’t like it! (How d’ya like THEM apples?)
Have you seen The Paradine Case? What’d you think of it? I’d love to hear your impressions! (Incidentally, there are those who contend that The Paradine Case isn’t film noir . . . but that’s another discussion for another day.)
Up until a few months ago, I’d never heard of the movie Bad Sister. Then I read a book called Hollywood’s Hard-Luck Ladies by Laura Wagner (which I highly recommend, by the way). The book centers on 23 actresses who “suffered early deaths, accidents, missteps, illnesses, and tragedies.” The chapter on actress Sidney Fox noted that her film debut was in the 1931 feature Bad Sister – which was also the first feature film for Bette Davis – and that Fox played a “horrible little wretch.” The picture’s intriguing title, the fact that it was Davis’s first film appearance, and the description of Fox’s character all combined to make this a must-see for me. So you can imagine my delight when I found it on You Tube – and my utter satisfaction to discover that it lived up to its promise!
Produced by Carl Laemmle, the film was based on a 1913 Booth Tarkington novel, The Flirt, and centers on a middle-class, small-town Ohio family, the Madisons. The family includes Mr. and Mrs. Madison (Charles Winninger and Emma Dunn), and their children, the self-absorbed Marianne (Sidney Fox), kind but reserved Laura (Bette Davis), and mischievous Hedrick (David Durand).
Marianne is the kinda gal who could benefit immensely from a slap in the kisser.
Like her own world, the film revolves around Marianne, and it doesn’t take long for us to get a clear idea of just what kind of person she is. When we first meet her, she’s lying in bed; the wall above her is decorated with a series of large photographs – each is of Marianne. The family maid, Minnie (Zasu Pitts), enters to announce that breakfast is ready, and Marianne leisurely requests that her meal be served to her in bed. Minnie – who’s no slouch in the smart-mouth department – vehemently objects and Marianne lets loose with a series of insults, calling her stupid, common and ignorant. Later, Marianne asks her father for $50 (a sum which, adjusted for inflation, would be a whopping $800 today) to buy a new dress, employing every device from cloying sweetness, to fury, to tears until her father caves in.
Marianne jumps in the car with this guy.
Marianne is sought after by several suitors, including Wade Trumbull (Bert Roach), who’s overweight and a little goofy, but owns a successful insurance business, and Dr. Dick Lindley (Conrad Nagel), who is also the target of unrequited love from Marianne’s sister, Laura. Marianne, meanwhile, continues to show that she is a real piece of work – while on a date with Lindley (who had the nerve to show up at her house sans transportation, expecting her to take THE BUS), Marianne encounters a man driving an expensive car and literally jumps in beside him, leaving Dick on the street alone. The man, Valentine Corliss (Humphrey Bogart), is a stranger in town but will figure prominently in the film’s plot – he woos Marianne with his big-city sophistication, and attracts the town’s leaders with his plans to build a factory and his assurances that they can get rich by signing on as partners. Unfortunately for Marianne and her family, Corliss is not all that he appears to be – a realization that they discover the hard way.
Bad Sister is worth watching for a number of reasons. First off, it’s fascinating as the first film of Bette Davis, who is my absolute favorite actress. But while there are a few brief flashes of the brilliant performer that Davis would become, there aren’t many. It’s really Sidney Fox’s show. She has the juicier part and she makes the most of it. Her Marianne is a self-centered bitch, a social climber who’s not above stepping on anyone – including members of her own family – in order to get her way.
Hedrick isn’t falling for the okey doke.
Interestingly, Marianne’s parents are either completely oblivious to her true nature, or they make a conscious effort to overlook her potential for nastiness. It almost as if they’re so delighted with her beauty and her popularity and her style, that they’re able to convince themselves that she’s really not that horrible. Like the scene where Marianne not only comes home with a new dress but new shoes – when she tells her mother that she just had to have them, and charged them to her father, Mrs. Madison first frowns and says, “You shouldn’t have done it.” But seconds later, practically against her own will, she says admiringly, “But they are pretty!” One person who isn’t fooled by Marianne’s charms is her little brother, Hedrick. He constantly gets under her skin; at breakfast, he graphically describes the kissing sounds she made the night before, and he delights in exposing her plans to ditch Wade in favor of Dr. Lindley – right in front of Wade! And he really sets her off when he makes Marianne pay him to stay away when Corliss is invited to dinner, and then shows up anyway, plopping down right beside the guest of honor and cheekily inquiring: “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Val charms them all.
Humphrey Bogart who, up to this point in his career, had appeared in only three full-length films, is intriguing to watch, especially if you’re more familiar with his later performances in pictures like The Maltese Falcon or Casablanca. Like his characters in those films, he’s smooth here, too, and loaded with a certain kind of charm, but he’s clearly up to no good. He plays the entire family like one big fiddle, giving each of them what they want – enticing Marianne with the promise of freeing her from her “one-horse” home town, luring Mr. Madison with the notion of being secretary and treasurer of his corporation, drawing Mrs. Madison in with the notion of being the wife of a big-time businessman – he even charms the normally acerbic Minnie, gallantly taking her in his arms when she’s tripped by Hedrick: “I think you’re just wonderful,” she swoons.
Clocking in at an economical 68 minutes, Bad Sister doesn’t have a single dull moment – the performances are noteworthy and the story is interesting and multifaceted, containing just the right amount of melodrama, pathos, humor, and pre-Code badness. Do yourself a favor and check this one out.
You only owe it yourself.
Other Stuff:
This is the third version of the Booth Tarkington novel. It was filmed as The Flirt in 1916 and 1922. Both the 1922 and 1931 versions were produced by Carl Laemmle.
The film’s cinematographer was Karl Freund, who I know best as the director of photography for I Love Lucy. On the big screen, he was behind the camera for such classics as Metropolis (1927), Dracula (1931), Pride and Prejudice (1940), and Key Largo (1948).
Sidney Fox, in better days.
Sidney Fox had been named a WAMPAS Baby Star in 1931 (along with such future stars as Joan Blondell, Frances Dee, and Karen Morley), and was seen in good roles the following year in The Mouthpiece, opposite Warren William, and Once in Lifetime with Jack Oakie. But her few follow-up films were mostly forgettable, and her life off-screen was a rocky one, with an on-again, off-again marriage to an abusive husband. Her last big screen appearance came just a few years after Big Sister, and she died at the age of 34 from an overdose of sleeping pills.
Bad Sister is the first of seven movies in which Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart appeared together. The others were Three on a Match (1932), The Petrified Forest (1936), Kid Galahad (1937), Marked Woman (1937), and Dark Victory (1939). (Not a clunker among ‘em!)
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This article is part of the Hidden Classics Blogathon, presented by the Classic Movie Blog Association. Click here to discover more great classics to add to your must-see list!
Every year, on May 16th, the classic film community celebrates National Classic Movie Day. And every year, Rick over at the Classic TV and Film Café hosts a blogathon to acknowledge this significant day. And every year, no matter what’s going on in my “real” life, I make it at a point to join in the fun!
This year, Rick’s theme is “Six Films, Six Decades,” and each participant is invited to list one favorite film from each decade, from the 1920s through the 1970s. To select just six films from all of the great movies released during these years, I had to come up with some criteria: first off, I had to love it. Second, I had to have seen the movie multiple times – it wasn’t enough to have seen it and loved it; I had to really KNOW it. And finally, it couldn’t be a film I’d already covered on my blog. Given those parameters, I thought it would be a piece of cake (mmm, cake) to identify six beloved movies, but it wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined. There was just so many good ones! But, at long last, I finally managed to narrow down my choices (and, for most decades, include a couple of honorable mentions just for giggles). Here we go!
THE NINETEEN TWENTIES
My film from this decade was the easiest to decide. I’ve seen a number of movies from this decade, but to my knowledge, there’s only one that I’ve seen multiple times: The Broadway Melody (1929). This early musical had a dynamite pedigree, including lyrics by Arthur Freed, music by Nacio Herb Brown, and art direction by Cedric Gibbons. Talk about packing a punch!
The film isn’t above showing gratuitous scenes of ladies in their lingerie.
What’s it about?
Anita Page and Bessie Love star as sisters, Queenie and Hank Mahoney, who travel from their small town to New York, determined to find success on Broadway. The film also stars Charles King, who’s engaged to one sister, but falls for the other.
What’s to love?
Although this film has a rating of 5.7 (out of 10) on the Internet Movie Database (IMDB) and a score of 33% on the Rotten Tomatoes website, it was the top-grosser of 1929 and won the Academy Award for Best Picture. I can’t say that I don’t understand these low ratings – the movie is as creaky as Grandma’s rocker – but I’ve been fascinated by Melody since the first time I saw it, and my love for it continues to grow.
It’s hard to put my finger on, to be sure. The musical numbers aren’t anything to write home about (one of them – “The Wedding of the Painted Doll” has to be seen to be believed, there’s so much going on), the dialogue is corny, and the performances fluctuate between stilted and over the top, but to me, it’s so bad, it’s good. Plus, there are all kinds of little things that keep me riveted. Sometimes, it’s what’s going on in the background that fascinate me – like in the opening number, performed by Charles King at a music publishing company. While King is singing, surrounded by a group of men and women who gather around to listen, I can’t take my eyes off a woman with a cloche hat and pearls, who is mesmerized by the song, bopping and swaying to the music, biting her lip, and seemingly on the verge of ecstasy. A clip of this scene is below; check it out and you’ll see what I mean.
Other times, it’s just a few lines or a throwaway gesture that get me. In one scene, when a group of chorus girls are rehearsing a number, the choreographer stops them and orders one out of the line. Then, we get this exchange:
“Listen, toots – what’s the matter with the left leg?”
“Well, I’ve got a headache.”
“Well go on and sit down – take a load off your mind.”
“Don’t talk to me like that – I don’t feel well.”
In writing, it may not seem that funny, but the chorus girl’s delivery of her lines cracks me up every time.
Also, I love the song “Broadway Melody” – and the movie helps out by performing the number over and over. And over!
What else?
This feature is notable as MGM’s first all-talking picture, and the first sound film to win the Oscar for Best Picture. The film’s popularity prompted a spate of musicals – a total of 75 that year!
The film was originally planned for vaudeville stars Rosetta Duncan and Vivian Duncan (aka the Duncan Sisters), but they were unavailable, so Bessie Love and Anita Page won the roles of the Mahoney Sisters. (Incidentally, neither Love nor Page can carry a tune!)
Honorable Mentions
It (1927)
Sunrise (1927)
The Kid (1921)
THE NINETEEN THIRTIES
The hardest part about picking a movie from the 1930s was choosing a film I hadn’t already written about. So many of my favorites from this decades are pre-Codes, and I’ve previously written about so many that I love – The Divorcee, Three on a Match, Bombshell, Night Nurse, and on and on – but once I moved away from the pre-Code era, the decision was a little easier. My pick is Alice Adams (1937), starring Katharine Hepburn in the title role. The cast also includes Fred MacMurray, Evelyn Venable, and Frank Albertson. The film was directed by George Stevens, who also helmed such gems as I Remember Mama (1948), A Place in the Sun (1951) and Shane (1953).
Even Alice’s body language in this shot demonstrates her desperation to be liked and accepted by the town’s social leaders.
What’s it about?
A small-town girl’s desperate longing for social acceptance is thwarted by her family’s low-income status, her own over-eagerness, and the pettiness of her peers.
What’s to love?
For my money, Katharine Hepburn is one of the screen’s greatest actresses, and her portrayal of Alice Adams is one of her best. Hepburn takes this character, who is often self-deluding at best and shallow and phony at worst, and not only infuses her with humanity, but makes us root for her. Even when Alice’s affectations and truth-stretching make us uncomfortable to the point of practically cringing, we still empathize.
But Hepburn’s Alice isn’t the great thing about this movie. Alice’s family – her mother, father, and brother – is unforgettable, each demonstrating, much like Alice herself, contradictory personality traits. Her father has the softest of soft spots for his only daughter, but his explosive temper and clumsy behavior is sometimes a detriment. Her mother only wants the best for Alice, but she constantly berates her husband for the family’s financial straits. And her often mean-spirited brother has a gambling problem, but is capable of feeling sympathy for his sister. These contrasting characteristics keep the audience on their toes and make the film even more fascinating.
And the picture contains one of my favorite scenes in all of cinema. Alice hosts a dinner for Arthur Russell (MacMurray), a well-heeled and eligible young man who has expressed an interest in Alice, despite his informal engagement to a local debutante. Alice and her mother go to great lengths to impress Russell – arranging and rearranging their furniture, planning an elaborate four-course meal (with caviar sandwiches as an appetizer) and hiring a “colored” maid, Malena (Hattie McDaniel) to serve. Unfortunately, the dinner falls on what is apparently the hottest day of the year, and the heavy meal they’ve prepared doesn’t make matters any better. In short, the entire evening is a disaster, starting with Malena falling down the cellar stairs and punctuated by Mr. Adams’s stiff tuxedo shirt popping open at the dinner table and exposing his bare chest. During the meal, Alice’s desperation grows as she tries frantically to keep the conversation going, Malena shuffles indifferently in and out of the dining area with her maid’s cap askew, and Alice’s brother interrupts to announce to his father that he’s in trouble with the law for embezzling money from his job. By the time Russell leaves, Alice is certain that she will never see him again.
That fateful dinner.
What else?
The film was based on the book by Booth Tarkington, but the book’s end was less hopeful than the conclusion of the screen version. In the book, Alice did not end up with Arthur Russell. Both Hepburn and the film’s director were in favor of this, but RKO insisted on a more upbeat ending.
Hepburn was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress, but she lost to Bette Davis for Dangerous (1935). Davis reportedly declared on more than one occasion that Hepburn deserved the award.
Honorable Mentions
You Can’t Take It With You (1937)
Marked Woman (1937)
The Women (1939)
THE NINETEEN FORTIES
Bette Davis is my favorite actress. So it’s only fitting that at least one of my films for this blogathon is a Bette Davis vehicle. One of my most beloved of her many pictures is All This, and Heaven Too. Directed by Anatole Litvak, the film’s first-rate cast includes Charles Boyer and Barbara O’Neil.
What’s it about?
After taking a post at a school in New York, a French teacher recounts her past as governess to the four children of a duke and duchess in France, and the tragedy and scandal that ensued.
What’s to love?
This ain’t no Mrs. O’Hara.
All This, And Heaven Too is based on real-life events, and it’s a period piece – two of my favorite things in cinema. As Henriette Deluzy Desportes, Davis portrays a thoroughly appealing character, a woman of high ideals and integrity, sweet-tempered and gentle, and committed to the children of the Duke and Duchess of Praslin, played by Boyer and O’Neil. While the duke is endlessly appreciative of Henriette’s devotion, his wife grows increasingly convinced that the duke and Henriette are having an affair. O’Neil – who the previous year played the patient and loving matriarch in Gone With the Wind – is a standout as the duchess, with her irrational jealousy a sharp contrast to the respectful patience exhibited by Henriette.
Also memorable are the four children of the duke and duchess: Isabelle, Louise, Berthe, and Raynauld, played by June Lockhart, Virginia Weidler, Ann E. Todd, and the cute-as-a-button Richard Nichols. Each of the children have distinct personalities and are an important part of the narrative, making the audience care as much about them has Henriette.
The film clocks in at two hours and 21 minutes – quite a long running time for a motion picture in 1940. But the significant length of the film lends itself to its excellence. It takes its time to build the relationship between Henriette and the children, and Henriette and the duke, as well as document the growing paranoia of the duchess, and illustrate Henriette’s entire experience, from the time she joined the Praslin household until her arrival in New York. It’s time well spent.
Henriette and her beloved charges.
What else?
June Lockhart, who played the oldest daughter, was appearing here in her second film and her first credited role. She is perhaps best known for her TV roles in Lost in Space and Lassie. Her father was actor Gene Lockhart. (And she’s still with us!)
Ann E. Todd, who played the youngest daughter, Berthe, is not to be confused with actress Ann Todd, who starred in such films as The Seventh Veil (1946), The Paradine Case (1947) and So Evil, My Love (1948).
The Internet Movie Database (IMDB) says that this movie set a Guiness World Record for the number of times the word “mademoiselle” is said in a motion picture. I have no idea if this is true or not. I just thought it was funny. And even funnier that anybody can enter anything on the IMDB site like it’s fact.
Honorable Mentions
His Girl Friday (1940)
The Little Foxes (1941)
Gaslight (1944)
THE NINETEEN FIFTIES
For years, whenever I would try to introduce friends to classic movies, I would share the same handful of films. One of them was From Here to Eternity. With a high-powered cast including Montgomery Clift, Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr, Donna Reed, Frank Sinatra, and Ernest Borgnine, is there any wonder?
Part of Eternity’s first-rate cast: Clift, Lancaster, and Sinatra.
What’s it about?
The film looks at the lives and loves of the inhabitants of a military base in Hawaii, shortly before the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
What’s to love?
There are four major plot points happening simultaneously in this film: (1) Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Clift) is being pressured by his superiors to join the platoon boxing team, but he refuses because of an injury he caused during a bout years before; (2) meanwhile, Pruitt is falling hard for a prostitute he met in a local men’s club on the island; (3) Pruitt’s closest friend, Private Angelo Maggio (Sinatra) is embroiled in an ongoing feud with a sadistic higher-ranked officer (Borgnine); and (4) First Sergeant Milton Warden (Lancaster) is having an affair with his boss’s wife, Karen (Kerr). It’s a beautifully detailed story. We grow to know, care, and understand the motivations and feelings of each of these main characters. And the performances are so good, they practically defy description.
What else?
The film won a slew of Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Supporting Actress for Donna Reed, Best Supporting Actor for Frank Sinatra, Best Adapted Screenplay for Daniel Taradash, and Best Director for Fred Zinnemann.
The title comes from a poem written by Rudyard Kipling in 1892 called “Gentleman-Rankers.” It’s about soldiers of the British Empire who lost their way and were “damned from here to eternity.”
Honorable Mentions
Picnic (1955)
12 Angry Men (1957)
The Best of Everything (1959)
THE NINETEEN SIXTIES
The Manchurian Candidate was released by United Artists in 1962; 10 years later, the United Artists contract expired and representatives for the film’s star, Frank Sinatra, acquired the rights. The studio reacquired the rights in 1987, and the film became available for theater and video release. That’s when I first saw this picture. I’d like to say I was blown away, but I think I was a bit too immature to see it at that time; I confess that I didn’t really understand what was going on. I’ve seen it numerous times since. NOW I’m blown away.
It’s quite a movie.
What’s it about?
Communists in Korea capture a U.S. Army platoon during the Korean War, brainwashing the men and programming one as a sleeper agent who will kill on command.
What’s to love?
Even if I hadn’t been on the youngish side when I first saw The Manchurian Candidate, I might have been hard-pressed to understand all the nuances the first time around, but it’s a film that gets better and better with every viewing. The performances are outstanding, especially those of Frank Sinatra, as one of the brainwashed men, Laurence Harvey, playing the programmed sleeper agent, and Angela Lansbury, as Harvey’s mother – one of the most unsavory, despicable and frightening mothers that you’re ever likely to see in film.
The film’s plot is yet another thing I love about it. Yes, it’s complex and unique, but it’s also riveting. Sometimes, even now after repeated viewings, I find myself so caught up in the goings-on that I barely seem to be breathing. The shocking scenes of unexpected violence, played against unusual set-pieces, grab the viewer’s attention from the very start – if for no other reason than because we’re trying to wrap our heads around what we’re seeing.
What else?
Leigh was served with divorce papers on the day this scene was shot.
For years, the rumor persisted (as fact) that this film was pulled from circulation after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, because the film contained a similar plot device. This turned out to be completely untrue.
Janet Leigh co-starred as the love interest for the Sinatra character, who she meets on a train. In real life, on the morning that this scene was filmed, Leigh was served divorce papers by her then-husband, Tony Curtis.
In once scene, Frank Sinatra has a fight with co-star Henry Silva, During the fight, Sinatra broke the little finger on his right hand.
Honorary Mentions
The Hustler (1961)
The Miracle Worker (1962)
Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
THE NINETEEN SEVENTIES
Blazing Saddles (1974) will always and forever be one of my favorite comedies. I’ve seen it countless -times over the decades since its release, and it never fails to make me laugh. It is, simply, a masterpiece.
What’s it about?
A black convict is tapped by a pair of corrupt officials to serve as the sheriff of a small town that they intend to demolish to make way for a railroad.
What’s to love?
It’s a hoot from start to finish.
There’s just so much going on in this movie, so many scenes of absolute ridiculousness and over-the-top hilarity – not to mention politically incorrect racial references – that it’s a little hard to describe. In the very first scene, we come upon a crew of black convicts, working on a railroad, when they’re ordered by the boss of the chain gang to sing a “nigger work song,” like they did when they were slaves. Instead of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” or some such, the men break out into a beautifully harmonized, jazzed-up rendition of “I Get A Kick Out Of You.” It is an absolute scream – and a perfect indication of the kind of wild ride that this film has in store.
The film’s cast is bubbling over with talented comedians, reading like a veritable Who’s Who of go-tos for a chuckle: Cleavon Little, Gene Wilder, Harvey Korman, Mel Brooks, Madeleine Kahn, Dom DeLuise. For my money, they all do some of the best work of their careers in this raucous feature. It must have been a real hoot to make. It certainly is a hoot to see.
What else?
Gene Wilder plays Jim, The Waco Kid, whose quick-on-the-draw expertise has been challenged so many times that he has turned to alcohol as a respite. The character was originally to be played by Gig Young who had a drinking problem in real life. According to Mel Brooks, in Young’s first scene, he was actually drunk and started vomiting. Brooks subsequently replaced Young with Wilder, and Young sued Warner Bros. for breach of contract.
Harvey Korman plays a character named ‘Hedley Lamarr,’ and throughout the film, he’s constantly correcting people who insist on calling him ‘Hedy.’ In real life, actress Hedy Lamarr sued Mel Brooks because the character’s name was so close to hers. The suit was settled out of court.
Honorary Mentions
Harold and Maude (1971)
The Godfather (1972)
Whew! That’s it for me. What are some of your beloved films from the 1920s through the 1970s? Let me know!
This post is part of the Six Films, Six Decades Blogathon hosted by the Classic Film and TV Cafe. Click here to read the other great participants in this year’s celebration of National Classic Movie Day!
If you’re a William Holden fan (and, really, how can you NOT be?), you may have enjoyed this handsome and talented actor in such noirs as The Dark Past (1948), Sunset Boulevard (1950), and Union Station (1950), but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen him in a little-known gem called Young and Willing. Released in 1943, this low-budget comedy focuses on the lives of six struggling, would-be actors and actresses who live in the same New York apartment while hoping for their collective big break on the stage. The screenplay was written by Virginia Van Upp who, just a few years later, would be named Executive Producer of Columbia Pictures, becoming one of only three female producers at the time. But I digress.
Holden is top-billed as Norman Reese, the unspoken leader of the motley crew. The group also consists of Tony Dennison (James Brown) and Marge Benson (Barbara Britton), who are secretly married – an act that’s in direct violation of Norman’s house rule forbidding romantic entanglements; Marge’s sexy and worldly wise sister Kate (Susan Hayward); George Bodell (Eddie Bracken), who’s completely obsessed with Stanislavsky’s Method acting; and Dottie Coburn (Martha O’Driscoll), a lovable airhead with an unutterable crush on Norman and a wealthy dad whose monthly check pays the apartment’s rent.
Young and Willing is a screwball comedy of the highest order, featuring a variety of wacky characters and zany situations. George, for instance, is usually fully immersed in one character or another, from Othello, to an apple ripening in a “tree,” to Napoleon Bonaparte, complete with an accent that sounds like Charles Boyer. “It certainly never gets tiresome with George around here,” Marge remarks. “You never know when you come home who he’s going to be.”
The basic plot involves the six thespians and their efforts to perform a play for Arthur Kenny (Robert Benchley), a famous Broadway producer (Robert Benchley) who keeps an apartment in the building and occasionally pops in for a visit. Their apartment is located directly above Kenny’s, and they’re known to spontaneously crowd around a hole in the floor to spy on his comings and goings.
William Holden, Susan Hayward, and Eddie Bracken
Holden’s Norman enters about three minutes into the picture. He’s clad in a buttoned-up overcoat with a cravat – very classy, very English-upper-crusty. It’s not until later that we learn he’s only wearing an undershirt beneath the coat because the week’s laundry delivery hasn’t yet arrived. When we meet him, Norman is bemoaning the outcome of his recent audition, for a role that was given to a man who was plainly too old for it.
“You should have seen that ‘juvenile’ that got the part,” he complains. “Ye gods – they had to carry him up on the stage. He must have been 40 years old!”
Norman – who dropped out of dental school to pursue his acting career – is quick-thinking and crafty, with a take-charge personality and an unflappable demeanor. These characteristics come in handy when he’s trying to fend off the apartment’s ditzy landlady, Mrs. Garnett (played to the hilt by Mabel Paige), or keep Dottie’s father from learning about his daughter’s co-ed living situation. When Mrs. Garnett questions Norman about the late rent, he coolly conjures a tall tale, telling her that the money was used to bail Dottie’s father out of jail, where he’d been taken following a car accident he caused while rushing to the bedside of his dying brother.
The film’s first-rate cast.
In another scene, when Norman answers the apartment telephone and learns that Dottie’s father is the caller, he adopts an Irish brogue, convincing Mr. Coburn that he’s the building’s janitor. (“It’s after fixin’ a little leak in the radiator that I came up about,” he improvises. “I imagine you’ll like to be speakin’ to your little chickadee. Well, Erin go Bragh, shamrock and shillelaghs.”)
Throughout the film, Holden displays a natural acting style and a flawless sense of comedic timing, totally holding his own with the showier Eddie Bracken. With his flashing dimples and his hair frequently falling over his forehead, he’s also incredibly easy on the eyes. If you only know Holden from his better-known features, do yourself a favor and check him out in this one. It’s accessible on YouTube – in English and Spanish!
A few years ago, I posted a list of the week that focused on famous classic movies that I hadn’t yet seen. I thought I’d revisit that idea today and serve up 20 more films that fall into this category. Some, like Make Way for Tomorrow and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, are movies that I definitely plan to see. Others, like Going My Way and High Society, not so much. (I’m still irritated that Going My Way grabbed so many Oscars that should have gone to Double Indemnity, and I just can’t with High Society. I cannot.)
The Bridge On the River Kwai (1957)
Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)
Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
City Lights (1931)
Metropolis (1927)
Make Way for Tomorrow (1937)
Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)
The Invisible Man (1933)
For Whom the Bell Tolls (1943)
Going My Way (1944)
Roman Holiday (1953)
Spellbound (1945)
An American in Paris (1951)
The Quiet Man (1952)
Guys and Dolls (1955)
High Society (1956)
All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1932)
Cleopatra (1934)
The Rains Came (1939)
What do you think of the films on this list? Can you make a case for any that I absolutely should check out? And what are some of the well-known features that you haven’t yet gotten around to seeing?
A couple of weeks back, in one of the noir-related Facebook groups that I frequent, a poster commented that film noir movies “don’t have happy endings.” This was disputed by several in the group, and I’m in agreement with them; while I love a downbeat noir ending as much as the next person, I certainly would never discount a film as noir if it didn’t have one.
Today’s post focuses on a few noirs that fall into this category – films that are indisputably noir, but don’t have an ending that sends you into a spiral of despair. Spoilers abound, so watch your step . . .
THE DAMNED DON’T CRY (1950)
What’s it about?
Joan Crawford stars as Esther Whitehead, who’s unhappily married and lives with her factory worker husband, her browbeaten mother, her disapproving father and, the only bright spot in her life, her young son. When her son is killed in a tragic accident, Esther sets out for the big city, finding work as a dressmaker’s model and finding companionship with an overworked accountant, Marty Blankenship (Kent Smith). Through a set of (maybe not so) fortuitous circumstances, both Esther and Marty find their fortunes improved when they become involved with a powerful mob boss, George Castleman (David Brian) – Marty becomes Castleman’s right-hand man, and Esther not only becomes his lover, but is also transformed into Texas heiress Lorna Hansen Forbes. Ultimately, though, Lorna learns that being the rich mistress of a gangster is not all it’s cracked up to be; when Castleman thinks she’s double-crossed him with one of his underlings, Nick Prenta (Steve Cochran), he murders Prenta, beats up Lorna, and when she flees to her parents’ home, tracks her there and guns her down.
What’s the end?
Esther/Lorna survives the gunshot. I suspect (though we don’t know for sure) that she winds up with Marty, but the happiest part of the ending is that her cold and judgmental father is seen sitting by her bedside at the film’s end, lovingly holding her hand. (So sweet.)
CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS (1953)
What’s it about?
Taking place on a single night in the city of Chicago, this film focuses on a mélange of characters whose lives intersect and intertwine. There’s Johnny Kelly (Gig Young), a disillusioned cop who plans to quit his job and leave his ever-so-faithful wife in order to skip town with his chick-on-the-side, Sally Connors (Mala Powers). And Gregg Warren (Wally Cassell), who has a job working as a “mechanical man” in a department store window and is also in love with Sally. And Hayes Stewart (William Talman), a former magician and current burglar, who is an increasingly bad influence on Kelly’s kid brother. And Penrod Biddell (Edward Arnold), a crooked attorney who hires Johnny to arrest Stewart (who, incidentally, is having an affair with Biddell’s wife). It’s quite the tangled web. Before it’s all over, there will be a pile of dead bodies: Biddell, his wife, Stewart, and Kelly’s father, who’s also a cop.
What’s the end?
By the time the night is over, Kelly’s experiences – which have included delivering a baby in the back seat of a car, and returning money to a group of men who were conned by an illegal gambling ring – have caused him to re-evaluate his plans. He tears up his letter of resignation and reunites with his long-suffering wife. And the voiceover narrator tells us: “Johnny Kelly’s home. Home to stay. While others are just getting up to go to work, for everywhere, every minute, of every hour in this melting pot of every race, creed, color, and religion of humanity, people are working, laughing, dying, some, like Johnny Kelly, are being born again, in the city that never sleeps.” (Wow.)
MILDRED PIERCE (1945)
What’s it about?
The title character, played by Joan Crawford, is a wife and mother of two girls, who finds herself responsible for her family’s life and welfare when her husband, Bert (Bruce Bennett), takes a powder. Desperate to secure an income, Mildred finds a job as a waitress, earning extra cash by baking cakes and pies for her employer. Spurred by her desire to please a self-absorbed daughter who’s never satisfied, Mildred opens a restaurant that turns into a string of successful enterprises, but she learns that, in the world of noir, sometimes your best just isn’t good enough.
What’s the end?
I won’t reveal what happens in the film’s climax, but I will say that Mildred and her ex-husband stroll off into the shadows together, and there’s no doubt that they will reunite. (A’int love grand?)
OUT OF THE PAST (1947)
What’s it about?
Gas station owner Jeff Bailey – who used to be a private dick named Jeff Markham – finds that his past has caught up with him after a fateful chance encounter. Instead of pumping gas alongside his deaf-mute assistant (Dickie Moore, known only as The Kid), and peaceful picnics with his girlfriend Ann (Virginia Huston), he’s now ensconced in a world peopled by refined gangsters, cold-blooded killers, and a former lover who is the epitome of ruthless self-preservation.
What’s the end?
Leaving a spate of dead bodies behind, Jeff and his ex, Kathie Moffett (Jane Greer), set out for Mexico together, but Kathie shoots Jeff when she realizes that he is responsible for the police roadblock they encounter. In turn, she’s gunned down by the police. In the last scene of the film, Ann appeals to The Kid to find out if Jeff was still in love with Kathie and trying to run away with her. The Kid knows the truth – Jeff’s loyalties were firmly with Ann – but he indicates that Jeff had indeed planned to resume his relationship with Kathie, thus allowing Ann to permanently sever her emotional ties to Jeff. At the film’s end, we see The Kid give a salute the gas station sign bearing Jeff’s name, knowing that, by misrepresenting his employer’s intentions, he has given a future to the woman he loved. (Aw.)
99 RIVER STREET (1953)
What’s it about?
Former boxer and current taxi driver Ernie Driscoll (John Payne) finds himself in a world of trouble when his shrewish, unfaithful wife (Peggie Castle) is found dead in the back seat of his cab. As he strives to find the men responsible for the murder, while evading capture by police, he’s aided by an actress friend, Linda James (Evelyn Keyes), who has her own reasons for putting her life in danger to help Ernie.
What’s the end?
Ernie is shot while wrangling the no-good-doers he’s been tracking, but his boxing prowess is used to good advantage in subduing them until Linda arrives with the cops. In the film’s last scene, we learn that Ernie and Linda are blissfully married and owners of a gas station. At the very end, Ernie whispers to Linda that it’s time that they started a family, and we fade to black on Linda’s smile of delight. (Blecch).
I hope that you all are having a great start to 2021 – the last time I wrote, it was for 30 straight days of noir for Noirvember 2020, so I thought I’d start this year with a leap into the pre-Code pool. If you read my Noirvember posts, you’ll know that there’s a wide variety of noir features on YouTube – but there’s also a plethora of pre-Code movies there as well. Some of them are not in the best condition, and there are certainly some that aren’t worth your time, but there are others that are absolutely first-rate – today, I’m sharing two of these:
Don’t Bet on Women (1931)
“All women need handling.” Hmph.
I first discovered this film at the 2015 Turner Classic Movies Film Festival, and it was one of the highlights of the event for me. This feature stars Edmund Lowe (who was married at the time to actress Lilyan Tashman) as Roger Fallon, a notorious womanizer with a low opinion of the opposite sex (“They’re all bad. They’re deceitful! Hard! Calculating! But, oh, how fascinating!”). Fallon’s views on women are in sharp contrast to those of his new attorney, Herbert Drake (Roland Young), who is happily married and theorizes that women are like children who are only “as bad as we allow them to be . . . all women need handling.”
When the two men encounter each other at a party, they clash again over their differing outlooks regarding women. Drake winds up betting the self-assured Fallon that it will take him more than 48 hours to capture a kiss from the first woman he sees. As it turns out, the first woman Roger sees is Herbert’s wife, Jeanne (Jeanette MacDonald). And that’s when the fun really begins!
Other Stuff:
If Una Merkel was in a scene, she was walking away with it.
Una Merkel plays Tallulah Hope, the man-crazy, slightly scatterbrained, Southern belle friend of Jeanne Drake. She’s a sheer delight in the role, and steals every scene she’s in.
Louise Beavers is seen in the film for a scant couple of seconds; she enters a room, says, “I beg your pardon” and leaves.
Another small part is played by Henry Kolker – you might remember him from one of the best-known pre-Codes, Baby Face, where he played a wealthy executive who becomes the “sugar daddy” to the title character. He can also be seen as Baron Franz in Jewel Robbery (1932), with William Powell and Kay Francis, and the father of Katharine Hepburn in Holiday (1938).
Favorite Quotes
“All parties are alike . . . Women wear a new frock now and then. But they never think of wearing a new face.” – Edmund Lowe
“There’s no virtue in a woman being good if she’s never had a chance to be bad.” – Jeanette MacDonald
Deluge (1933)
The effects were pretty special — especially for 1933.
Last summer, as part of my (failed) attempt to complete the annual Classic Movie Book Challenge, I managed to read one book: Hollywood’s Hard-Luck Ladies, by Laura Wagner. The book talks about the careers and personal tragedies of 23 actresses from the Golden Age of Cinema; one of these was Peggy Shannon, who – according to the author – was a standout in a 1933 film “about the dog-eat-dog world that results from an apocalyptic earthquake and flood.” That film was Deluge. I’d never heard of it before, but I soon found that it was available on YouTube, so I decided to check it out. And what an experience!
The film opens as information about the approach of a violent storm begins to spread across the world. We’re introduced to a few characters – Claire Arlington (Shannon), a marathon athlete who was just about to embark on a world-record swimming attempt, and Martin Webster (Sidney Blackmer), who tries to save his wife and two small children after hearing about the impending disaster on the radio. After a sudden lunar eclipse and earthquake, we’re shown nearly 10 minutes of the destruction of the city of New York, complete with toppling skyscrapers and massive floods. And while some of the special effects are obviously low-budget, much of the sequence is frighteningly impressive. After the destruction, we see that Claire and Martin have survived – only to find that their troubles are just beginning.
Peggy Shannon. So pretty. So sad.
Logging in at about 66 minutes, this once-lost film is fascinating to watch. It’s no Gone With the Wind, but it will hold your attention from start to finish. Shannon, who was strikingly pretty, had a sad life off-screen, dying from alcoholism at the age of 34, just eight years after the film’s release – but author Laura Wagner was right: she’s a standout in this feature.
Other stuff:
One of the many creepy men in this movie who try to get their hands on Claire is played by Ralf Harolde. He was good at bringing these kinds of characters to life – he was an unethical doctor with a facial tic in Night Nurse (1933) and another crooked physician in Murder, My Sweet (1944).
Samuel Hinds was in approximately two gazillion movies during his career. Take a peek at his IMDB page sometime.
Samuel Hinds is seen in a small role as a weather forecaster – you’ll recognize him as Jean Arthur’s father in You Can’t Take It With You (1936) and George Bailey’s father in It’s a Wonderful Life (1939).
Deluge was directed by Felix Feist, who I know better for his noir work; he helmed The Devil Thumbs a Ride (1947), The Threat (1949), and The Man Who Cheated Himself (1950).
Favorite Quote:
“If you mean talk it over calmly, you picked the wrong time and the wrong woman. I’m used to fighting for what I want.” – Peggy Shannon
And that’s it for my first installment of pre-Codes on YouTube. Stay tuned for future posts on time-worthy pre-Codes that you can find on this website. For free!
Can you believe that this is the last day of Noirvember? Seriously, where does the time go?
Ah, well – no use moaning over spent months. We’ve got more important things to do.
I’m wrapping up my YouTube noir series with The Hitch-Hiker (1953). Interestingly (to me, at least), it’s my second consecutive YouTube pick to star Frank Lovejoy, the second with a plot focusing on two male friends, and the second to be based on a true story.
It’s also the second to be almost too harrowing to watch.
WHAT’S IT ABOUT?
Frank Lovejoy and Edmond O’Brien star as Gilbert Bowen and Roy Collins, longtime buddies and family men who are excitedly embarking on a weekend fishing trip. Their plans for fun and relaxation transform into something altogether different, though, when they pick up a hitch-hiker who just happens to be an ex-con on a murder spree.
WHAT ELSE?
This ain’t no Hamilton Burger.
The ex-con is played by William Talman, who was in a pick earlier this month, City That Never Sleeps, and is probably best known for his role as Hamilton Burger in the long-running Perry Mason TV series. His performance here will make you forget all about Mr. Burger – especially when he falls asleep with one eye open. (Yikes.)
The film is helmed by actress-turned-director Ida Lupino. Lupino also co-wrote the screenplay, with her ex-husband Collier Young, with whom she created the company that produced the picture, The Filmakers. Lupino was the first woman to director a film noir, and later became the first woman to direct an episode of The Twilight Zone.
The Hitch-Hiker was inspired by the story of Billy Cook, who killed six people during a 22-day crime spree in the early 1950s. During his murderous cross-country endeavor, Cook kidnapped a couple of hunters, forcing them to drive him to Mexico. He was later captured and sentenced to death. While he was imprisoned in California’s San Quentin State Prison, Ida Lupino visited Cook, who granted her the exclusive rights to his story.
TOMORROW . . .
The sun’ll come out . . . because the shadows of Noirvember will have faded away. But you can celebrate noir with me every day! (I’m a poet, and I don’t know it.)
Thanks for coming along on this month-long journey!
Today, I’m recommending a movie that I’ve only seen once and, frankly, I don’t know if I’ll ever see it again.
It’s not because it’s not a first-rate noir. It is.
It’s just that it’s often hard to take – especially toward the end. But please don’t let that stop you from checking it out. Because you really owe it to yourself to see it.
At least once.
The movie is Try And Get Me! (1950).
(One more thing: you may never look at Lloyd Bridges the same way again.)
WHAT’S IT ABOUT?
Howard is coaxed over to the wrong side of the law by this smooth criminal, played by Lloyd Bridges.
Frank Lovejoy stars as Howard Tyler, an unemployed, down-on-his-luck war vet who is reluctantly lured into a life of crime in an effort to provide for his expectant wife and son. Like most of the best-laid plans in the world of film noir, Howard gets more than he bargained for.
WHAT ELSE?
Kathleen Ryan: One of Ireland’s best.
Howard’s wife is played by Kathleen Ryan, who you can see in one of my YouTube recommendations from earlier this month, the excellent Odd Man Out (1947). A native of Ireland, Ryan was included on a recently released list of the 50 Greatest Irish Actors of All Time by the Irish Times newspaper.
The film’s source material was a novel, The Condemned, by Jo Pagano, who also wrote the screenplay. Pagano’s novel was inspired by the 1933 kidnapping case of Brooke Hart, the wealthy son of a department store owner in San Jose, California. Pagano penned several other screenplays, but had better success on the small screen, writing for such series as 77 Sunset Strip, The Naked City, The F.B.I., and Bonanza.
Director Cy Endfield, who was once a professional magician, also helmed The Underworld Story, starring Dan Duryea and released earlier in the same year as Try and Get Me (which, incidentally, was originally issued as The Sound of Fury.) In the early 1950s, Endfield was blacklisted for refusing to name names during the HUAC Communist witchhunts. He later moved to England and directed a number of films under such names as Charles de Lautour, Hugh Raker, and C. Raker Endfield.
TOMORROW . . .
Join me for my next YouTube recommendation on the last day of Noirvember!
You don’t hear much about City That Never Sleeps (1953), and that’s a real shame. It’s got a lot of good stuff, from great use of shadows to voiceover narration (okay, it’s the city talking, but whatever).
It’s also chock full of dark, cynical, and duplicitous characters, including a magician who has turned to a life of crime, and a former actor who can only find work dressing up as a “mechanical man” and performing in a department store window — from which he observes much of the film’s dastardly deeds.
And it’s got Marie Windsor. Enough said?
WHAT’S IT ABOUT?
These sunny smiles belie the film’s darkness.
Gig Young stars as Johnny Kelly, a disillusioned cop who plans to quit his job, leave his wife, and take off with his mistress (Mala Powers), who works as a nightclub dancer. The action takes place on a single night in Chicago, and weaves together a spate of intertwining stories of greed, larceny, and desperation.
WHAT ELSE?
Johnny’s wife is played by Paula Raymond, who you may recognize from her featured roles in Devil’s Doorway (1950) and The Tall Target (1951), as well as a string of TV series. Her career was derailed in 1962, when she was nearly killed in a car crash, but she was able to return to acting after extensive facial surgery. She later landed a job on the NBC soaper Days of Our Lives, but she was written off the show when she fell on the set and broke her ankle. Over the next two decades, she would break both hips and her shoulder in two other accidents. She started working on her memoirs in 1999 (I Was Born Right, Where Did I Go Wrong or The Misadventures of a Dumb Dame) but, sadly, she died in 2003 before it was finished.
Bad luck seemed to follow Paula Raymond like a shadow.
The film’s screenplay comes courtesy of one Steve Fisher, a name that may not ring any bells, but it should. He was also responsible for the words of several other noirs, including Lady in the Lake (1947), Dead Reckoning (1947), and I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes (1948). He also wrote the novel, I Wake Up Screaming, which was made into a movie by the same name in 1941 and remade as Vicki in 1953. Not only that, but he was nominated for an Oscar for original story for the Cary Grant war picture Destination Toyko (1943). Now you know.
TOMORROW . . .
Join me for my next YouTube recommendation on Day 29 of Noirvember!
