 One of the hotter pre-code films Director: Howard Hawks Writer: Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder; based on From A to Z by Thomas Monroe and Billy Wilder Cinematographer: Gregg Toland Producer: Samuel Goldwyn by Jon Cvack This was one of Billy Wilder’s last films he wrote before he entered into one of the finest directing careers in the history of cinema. The film contains all his trademarks, and yet even though directed by Howard Hawks, just doesn’t have the same energy found in his directed work. The story is a hyper sexualized rendition of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, in this case Snow White is a lounge singer Katharine “Sugarpuss” O’Shea (Barbara Stanwyck) who’s involved with a local mob boss Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews). The Seven Dwarves being a team of academics who’re working on an encyclopedia series financed by some Wall Street tycoon who all live in a modest sized home, all bachelors with no interest beyond their research. Being on the letter “s”, one of the professors Bertram Potts (Gary Cooper) dives into the world of slang, which when their financier discovers what some of the phrases mean, decides to end the project and terminate the entire team. Undeterred, Bertram heads to a nightclub where he sees Katharine perform. Later, when Katherine’s approached by some police officers who want information on her boyfriend and she’s unwilling to cooperate, she approaches Bertram for protection who takes her back home to the mansion, offering to exchange her knowledge of slang in order for room and board. Bertram agrees and brings her back and immediately all of his colleagues are washed with lust and desire. I’m not sure if it’s that I’m getting older and appreciating the creative pre-code style, but this scene has one of the hottest moments I recall from the period. After the rest of the professors allegedly leave, Bertram and Katherine are left alone in the study, where in the background we see the other professors easing in from doorways, eavesdropping on the conversation. Bertram stands above and Katherine looks up from the sofa, still wearing her tight sparkling dress; the ruffled cut falling right above her upper thighs. “Let’s get a couple of drinks, start the fire, and you can start working on me right away,” Katherine says, “I’m planning to work on it all night.” Bertram fails to pick up on the suggestion. When Katherine says she’s going to sleep over, she then removes her stockings, holds up her leg and asks him to feel her foot, asking Bertram what he feels. “It’s cold,” he says, “It is, cold and wet”, she says before trying to bring him in closer to look down her throat; the entire process arousing all of the other men to the point where they can’t resist intruding; There is a heavy suggestion of a gang bang at this moment. Not that it’d actually happen, either Katharine wouldn’t do it and the professors couldn’t go through with it, but the suggestion is palpable as they circle around her, enraptured, following her around. They agree to let her stay and while Bertram tries to plead his side once more to avoid having her over, losing when Katherine makes a reference to Isaac Newton’s discovery of gravity, comparing herself to that of the apple that would fall upon Bertram, then clicking her tongue. Katharine knows she can seduce any of the men, and even finds Bertram worth pursuing. She’s also aware of how to use her body to get almost anything she wants from men. From there, the flirtations continue until Bertram and Katharine are left alone in the room where there’s a hot first kiss segment, where again without a mention of sex, you can feel exactly where the story went after the scene ended. Bertram proposes (in classic era 48 hour speed) and Katharine keeps helping with the slang. She wins the affections of the other professors, realizing that the life of study is a nice change up from underground crime and nightclubs. Joe tracks her down and soon she’s kidnapped and as though straight from a 90s rom-com, the professors and Bertram all travel across town in order to save her. When Joe’s henchmen arrive with machine guns, she bargains for the professors’ lives in exchange for marrying Joe and leaving Bertram forever. The last third is as generic as it gets in the genre. The girl goes back to her boyfriend until she has a change of heart and the pair live happily ever after. Beyond Stanwyck’s oozing sexuality is combining her with someone like Gary Cooper, often seen as a paragon of virtue; who while never seeming to have purely lustful thinking, at the very least is conflating his desire for love; providing the one time when a 24 hour engagement actually made sense in Bertram wanting to get down to business as soon as possible. Add the search for the latest slang, in which Wilder and Hawks went to actual drug stores and pubs to get authentic phrases, and any time the movie needs a break from the romance we’re often learning new slang terms from the period. Some regard the film as the final nail in the coffin for the classic slapstick romantic comedy era. I don’t know much of what came out after, but having just watched What's Up, Doc? (1972) and currently reading Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (1998) and how Bogdanovich was an egomaniac who regarded himself as great as Orson Welles and that Ryan O’Neal was dressed up as a dork to prevent him from getting involved with Cybil Shepherd, but overall you realize that even a master cinephile couldn’t capture what the original slapstick comedies had. Given how overt sex can now be, viewers can’t appreciate the power of suggestion as anything more than a cheesy or hackneyed way to talk around sex. It’s so often done with a wink of an eye to the audience. Ball of Fire took the power of suggestion to the absolute limits, and I’m left wondering, for people who had nothing more than some dirty magazines or pictures, how it must have felt to have movie stars talk like this. The reason the films can’t be replicated is because they’re part of a moment in time, when physical comedy was a way to camouflage sex. They were films that progressed things forward, and with almost 90 years having passed, it’s no surprise that to try and revisit the movies feels antiquated. Someone might be able to do it, but it has to go way beyond just the story. It has to capture the tone. BELOW: Pre-code dialogue Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 One of noir's greatest villains - Richard Widmark Director: Henry Hathaway Writer: Ben Hecht and Charles Lederer Cinematographer: Norbert Brodine Producer: Fred Kohlmar by Jon Cvack The more time wears on and memes deconstruct every piece of popular art in lightning speed, the more fascinated I become with film noir; a movement that didn’t even seem aware of itself until years later. The common trope being the hard boiled detective in his office when a drop dead gorgeous woman enters, asking for some help; a trope that, while common enough in neo-noir and beyond, isn’t found too often beyond the Chandler and Hammond adaptations. In college the debate was whether film noir was a genre or movement, given how many other genres it crossed into. When someone refers to a film noir, however modern, most cinephiles will know exactly what to expect. In that case, it’s a genre. In terms of the classic era, when the stories had no specific angle or parameters, it reflected a collective post-WWII ideology; of a generation coming home to alleged perfection after gross amounts of destruction. Also shot on location in New York City like Call Northside 777 (1948), Kiss of Death opens up at heist, in which a trio led by Nick Biano (Victor Mature) attempt to rob a jewelry store a dozen or so floors up in a skyscraper. They arrive, get the gems, and leave when the clerk trips the alarm. In a thrilling scene, they board the elevator and head down, stopping at each floor until they arrive at the ground level, hearing the cops and the crowd dispersing. Nick makes his way through the post office, thinking he’s in the clear and heading out into the actual New York streets where the police open fire, catching him in the leg and he’s apprehended. Nick’s visited by the Assistant District Attorney Louis D’Angelo (Brian Donlevy) who offers Nick a lighter sentence in exchange for turning over his accomplices and the boss that hired them. Nick’s visited by the syndicate’s attorney Earl Howser (Taylor Holmes) who advises him to be quiet and his wife and daughters will be taken care of. If not, who knows what might happen. Nick agrees and three years into his term he receives word that his wife has committed suicide; later learning she was raped by the a man named Pete Rizzo. Enraged, Nick gets in touch with D’Angelo who doubts Nick’s testimony is any longer reliable with the news. Howser gets in touch with Nick who explains the situation and Howser hires one of the greatest criminals in film noir history, Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark). Widmark would go on to receive an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of a young and completely unhinged murderer; the type of generic sounding character that only the rare actor can pull off. Udo agrees to take out Rizzo, and in one of the most terrifying murders I recall seeing from the entire period, he finds Pete Rizzo’s mother alone in her apartment, unsure where her son is. Udo then ties her into her chair, wheels her out into the hallways and tosses her down the stairs; shown in a long wide over the shoulder angle where an actual wheelchair is tossed down the stairs, obscuring the mother’s face. It’s a brilliant use of cinema, up there in shock value with the bird’s eye murder from Pyscho (1960); conveying just how psychotic Tommy Udo actually is. After Nick spills the beans, D’Angelo releases him on parole. Nick ends up at Nettie’s to find he’s still doing work for D’Angelo. He soon meets up with Tommy at a club who admits to the murder, and just as things seem all good and D’Angelo releases Nick who ends finding and job and getting his girls back. Things seem to look on the up and up until D’Angelo indicts Tommy and the city demands Nick testify. Knowing it’d likely mean his death, he still takes the stand. But after going after the jury, Tommy is released. Nick, Nettie, and the girls head out to the country to seek refuge, though Udo hunts them down. Cornering Nick, Udo demands Nick go with him on the next hit or be killed. Nick agrees and manages to tell D'Angelo about the job, but he’s reluctant to move on the recently freed man. Nick tells D’Angelo his location and to look out for Udo’s silver plated pistol. D’Angelo agrees Reading Pauline Kael’s "5001 Nights at the Movies" (1982), she called the film a melodrama and nails exactly the type of noir this is. When considered and broken down, the plot is fairly sensational and packed with emotion. Place within the film noirs confines, it’s a unique discovery from the movement. To think that Richard Widmark received an Oscar nomination just goes to show how far Hathaway pushed his characters. No matter how ridiculous the plot gets, all of the leading characters are so good that they pull it back to raw grit; honoring the inevitable doomed fate found in noir’s greatest titles. It’s one of the more thrilling conclusions I recall. BELOW: A movie where everything goes back to sex Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Ushering in the modern crime thriller Director: Akira Kurosawa Writer: Akira Kurosawa and Ryūzō Kikushima Cinematographer: Asakazu Nakai Producer: Sojiro Motoki by Jon Cvack Stray Dog is the movie that brought the Detective film to Japan and joins the handful of other Kurosawa films that took place within modern settings - joining Drunken Angel (1948), High and Low (1963), Ikiru (1952), and The Bad Sleep Well (1960); formats which leave you wishing for more from the same period. The movie opens in close up on a rabid stray dog, panting for air under the hot son. We meet the rookie homicide detective Murakami (Toshiro Mifune) who lost his Colt pistol after being pick pocketed on the trolley; scared that he’s going to lose his job, or worse, that gun could be used in a crime. Reporting the issue to his superior, he heads out into the humid and unbearably hot streets to track it down. From the get go, the movie reminds you of John C. Reilly’s character in Magnolia (1999) who met a similar fate; replacing the Murakami’s cockiness with an aloof determination to get featured on Cops. Murakami is a desperate man, as much concerned for the consequences as losing his opportunity to be a cop; which being filmed just a year after surrendering to the United States, is one of the few secure jobs a man could find in the post-war country. Soon Murakami’s worst nightmare comes to life when he discovers the gun had been used in a crime - fired, though no one got killed. He matches the bullet by returning to the firing range and remembering how he caught a stray bullet in a tree stump. It’s a bit silly given how many bullets must have been fired, but the bullets match and Murakami gets all the closer. One of the first suspects he pursues is a girl he recalls from the trolley who’s part of the underground nightclub scene around town, soon leading him into an underground network of criminals and illicit arms trade. Hitting a wall, Murakami is paired up with frequent Kurosawa collaborator Satō (Takashi Shimura) and the two zero in on a suspect - a faceless man in a white linen suit who they track to a baseball game, providing - as a fan - one of the more exciting sequences of the film (Kurosawa would hire newsreel men to film an actual baseball game; going to show how long and how popular the sport is in Japan). They lose track of the suspect but end up getting in touch with a prostitute he’s been known to associate with, Harumi Nukami (Keiko Awaji) who inform them that the man’s name is Yusa (Isao Kimura); a former WWII veteran who struggled with adjusting back to civilian life, turning to a life of crime. They soon discover that the Colt has been fired again, this time meeting Murakami’s worst fear in being used as a murder weapon. Satō heads back to talk again with Nukami, hoping she’ll reveal some details. When she finally does and Satō tries to call Murakami, Yusa arrives, overhearing that he’s a cop and shoots Satō, leaving him to bleed out to death. The next day, Nukami finally comes around and confesses to Murakami on where to find Yusa; who’s taking a train out of town. Having been pursued throughout the night, Murakami says that Yusa would have dirtied up his white linen suit and sure enough, in an exciting sequence, as Murakami looks at each man who’re all dressed in similar pale or white suits, Yusa turns out the window, revealing the mud all over his clothes. In a brutal final sequence, Murakami chases Yusa through the forest before Yusa fires at Murakami with his own gun, catching him in the stomach. Murakami wrestles him to the ground and as he attempts to choke Murakami to death, a band of young school girls and their teacher wander far in the distance behind; lending that great irony that only the masters could pull off. The plot is familiar enough, and yet like most of Kurosawa’s work, the narrative is decades ahead of its era. Released in 1949, to consider this film was made while America still occupied Japan and that the filmmakers actually went out into the streets to grab the footage, all contribute to the grittiness not seen for another thirty years later with films such as Dirty Harry (1971), Chinatown (1974), or The French Connection (1971). It’s a film that would launch the entire genre in Japan; where like any historic paradigm shifting piece of cinema, Stray Dog created many of the archetypes and tropes still used today It’s not Kurosawa’s best film, but by far one of his most influential - at least in the realm of crime drama. BELOW: Best scene of the movie Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Gotta find more flicks with Joan Director: Michael Curtiz Writer: Robert Wilder; based on Flamingo Road (1946) play by Robert Wilder and Sally Wilder Cinematographer: Ted D. McCord Producer: Jerry Wald by Jon Cvack In my thoughts on The Comancheros (1961), I mentioned Curtis’ unique chameleon style; exemplified by these disparate back to back features. Flamingo Road is one of those mid-budget thrillers which portrays the underworld of corrupt politics. It opens on carnival dancer Lane Bellamy (Joan Crawford) soon meets a Sheriff’s Deputy Fielding Carlisle (Zachary Scott) who’s currently being groomed for state senate by Sheriff Titus Semple (Sydney Greenstreet), moonlighting as the town’s corrupt political boss who dominates the state machine. Carlisle is currently courting Annabelle Weldon (Virginia Huston), who while an attractive and charming woman, isn’t exactly providing the most passionate relationship. Nevertheless, Semple knows the optics of marriage would bode better for a state senate run. However, when Carlisle runs into Bellamy during one of his late night calls, he’s taken aback; immediately in awe of her beauty and sensuality. Joan Crawford is one of those classical era actresses who most recognize the name, but few could name specific films. I had always imagined some hyper-sexualized performer such as Bette Davis or Marilyn Monroe, but discovered a stunning woman who simply had a type of pre-feminist confidence in both independence and sexuality. Carlisle learns that she’s been fired from the circus, and with only dollars to her name, he offers to try and get a job at the local diner. In a hot scene, we watch as Lane undresses in front of him; again, with Crawford not making it seem like a proposition so much as her freedom. Carlisle delivers on the job and Lane is hired at the local diner, but when Semple catches whiff that Lane and Carlisle are having an affair, he works his muscle and gets her fired only days later; clearly talking to the rest of the town as well, forcing her to leave. During a late night, she’s arrested on the street for indecency charges - that is, for being a hooker - and taken to jail where she meets an inmate that has contacts at a local brothel (or at least what I think is a brothel) where most of the political machine and prominent businessmen frequent. Lane starts work at the club where she meets Semple, Carlisle and the others. Semple flips, demanding owner Lute Mae Sanders (Gladys George) fire her. But knowing the leverage such a hire provides, Lute keeps her on and Semple is forced to take other means. Lane soon catches the eyes of local businessman Dan Reynolds (David Brian) who, like Carlisle, quickly falls madly in love with her. One evening, Reynolds and Lane bump into Carlisle and his wife at dinner, and Carlisle’s enraged with jealousy. With Lane seemingly out of the picture, Carlisle marries Annabelle and wins state office; however, a mixture of an empty marriage, corruption, and grind of the job cause him to increasingly lean on the bottle. Semble nonetheless appreciates Carlisle’s commitment and plans to run him as governor. Reynolds disagrees with the plan and opts to challenge Carlisle, enraging Semple who then leans further on Carlisle until Carlisle finally breaks down, visits Lane to get her back, and then blows his brains out. Desperate, Semple enters himself into the race, using his political muscle to run Reynold out of business. One night, he meets with the local politicians and reveals all of the dirt he has on each of them; demanding they ruin Reynolds or pay the price. They follow orders and soon Reynold’s is charged with corruption and with his life near ruins, and fearing for a similar result as Carlisle, Lane takes matters into her own hands, visiting Semple with a gun, and after a fight between the two, shoots him dead; a fight mind you that takes place with Joan Crawford and 250+ pound man and she makes it look entirely real. At just a bit over ninety minutes, Flamingo Road is on par with any great political thriller - The Ides of March (2011), Three Days of the Condor (1975), The Manchurian Candidate (1962; 2004), and The Ghost Writer (2010). What stands out between this and all other political films (thriller or not) is the complexity of Joan Crawford’s character. From the synopsis you might assume a type of exploitative movie, in which a woman is overly sexualized and uses that power to climb the political ladder. Instead, we see a character that almost wishes they weren’t both beautiful and on the downside of luck. The latter brings undesirable men promising happiness and prosperity, but who knows the dangers of being with a lower class, independent woman like Lane. Crawford conveys the frustration and suspicion, along with the utter joy when she ends up with Reynolds. At first we wonder if perhaps Semple was right, but then we see the genuine love and care they have for one another, making the climactic confrontation plausible. I believed Lane would go there for Reynolds and be willing to fight for the good man she finally found. Lane doesn’t just take down Semple, but exposes and destroys the entire apparatus. It’s one of the most progressive characters I can recall from the era. BELOW: Little low-res taste Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Nearly an hour to get to the scary stuff Director: George Marshall Writer: Walter DeLeon; based on The Ghost Breaker (1909 play) by Paul Dickey and Charles W. Goddard Cinematographer: Charles Lang Producer: Arthur Hornblow Jr. by Jon Cvack I’m not too familiar with Bob Hope, other than seeing The Cat and the Canary (1939) a few years ago. In this film, he’s a disillusioned true crime radio DJ Larry Lawrence as your prototypical mile a minute wise-cracking and confident alpha male. His partner is the black man Alex (Willie Best) who is one of the few black actors I’ve seen in a supporting role from the period; though far from spared a bunch of racist innuendo. During the broadcast, we cut to a hotel where the beautiful Mary Carter ((Paulette Goddard) is listening in on the broadcast when she’s approached by the creepy Mr. Parada (Paul Lukas) who explains that she’s inherited a Cuban mansion called the Castilla Maldito and must come down immediately. After Larry reveals some dirt on a local crime boss Frenchy Duval (Paul Fix), Frenchy invites Larry over to the same hotel. Suspecting murder, Larry brings a gun and upon arriving, kills one of Frency’s henchman. He then sneaks into Mary’s room to hide out and learns about her going to the Cuban Mansion. Knowing he has to get out, he decides to sneak onto the ship by hiding in some luggage in order to hide from the cops. We then get to an ocean liner where Alex has arranged Larry with a room. Larry gets out of the trunk, hardly able to walk, until he learns that the gun he used didn’t match the bullet found on the victim. He then finds Mary and implores her to let him join her to the mansion. With a running time of only 84 minutes, this sequence of events takes us up to two thirds of the entire film and only at the ~55 minute mark do we finally get to the mansion where see some zombies, get into the mansion where there are spirits wandering around with horrible effects, and Mary soon realizes she’s a descendant of one of the prior heirs; discovering a painting with an uncanny resemblance between the two women. As mentioned in my thoughts on The Undying Monster (1942), the film was designed as part Universal horror film and part Sherlock Holmes. If The Ghost Breakers struck a similar balance, it could have worked, but with such a short running time, its gangster film/love story/slapstick/comedic horror super hybrid prevented any of the elements from working. By the time we got to the haunted mansion, I had grown so bored with the story that the horrors and gags failed to do much of anything. I didn’t know why they’d delay the part of the film that could’ve worked best. It might be scary movie month bias, but this film is better for a casual viewing throughout the year than attempting to find a great classical horror movie - comedy or not. Bob Hope is also kind of an asshole throughout the thing; cocky to the point of being insufferable. BELOW: Guess he Bob was also a Republican Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The only decent image I could find which does the film no justice Director: John Brahm Writer: Lillie Hayward and Michel Jacoby Cinematographer: Lucien Ballard Producer: Bryan Foy by Jon Cvack John Brahm is one of the more interesting directors I’ve discovered. I saw his first film The Lodger (1944) last Halloween, playing as a type of early Summer of Sam (1999)/Zodiac (2007) serial killer story. I’ve yet to see Brahm’s Hangover Square (1945), but a short documentary about the guy revealed that it was a hybrid sequel/remake of The Lodger except with more money (think Evil Dead 2 [1987]); allowing him to better showcase his skills. The few clips from the film ranging from a Michael Meyers’ POV to a long oner of the killer exiting his house and onto the London streets and into the closing shots of the killer playing a John Herman score while being engulfed in flames and burning to death. Brahm wouldn’t make much more from there on. Counter to his German peers, he’d never get much further into film noir and instead made a long career directing television - going on to do episodes of The Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents. A film scholar said it might have been due to his reluctance to participate in Hollywood politics and/or his lack of ambition. I struggle to think of more wasted potential from a filmmaker. The Undying Monster was Fox studios response to Universal’s horror division. However, counter to their competitors, Darrel Zanuck demanded that his properties be developed with more of a literary angle. Rather than focusing on actions and scares he wanted good characters and smart stories. At only a bit over an hour long, The Undying Monster is half Sherlock/half Universal creature feature to the point where by two-thirds the way I was left wondering whether it was even a monster at all; despite the movie’s poster that featured a werewolf. It opens on the Hammond family estate in England where we learn that, since the Crusades, the family has been cursed with a series of deaths, suicides, and murders. When the estate’s owner Oliver Hammond (John Howard) is attacked by a mysterious creature in the night, they call upon Scotland Yard to investigate, including the story’s Sherlock Dr. Robert Curtis (James Ellison) and his wise-cracking and straight shooting partner Christy (Heather Thatcher) who run a massive lab that’s developing the latest in forensic science. Robert and Christy head over to the Hammond estate where Walter (Halliwell Hobbes), Oliver’s sister Helga (Heather Angel), and local Inspector Craig (Aubrey Mather) head down to the basement crypt where Robert sees some strange footprints before Walter fakes a fall and destroys them. Robert immediately suspects that it was either Oliver’s sister Helga Hammond, the butler Walter (Halliwell Hobbes) or one of the other family members, all in an attempt to get the money. When another victim is killed, Robert fears they’ll never learn the truth. It becomes such an effective plot and told with such support, going so far as a jury trial, that with only fifteen minutes left or so I was convinced the monster was a ruse; a type of Scooby Doo story where they created the monster to create smoke around the case. Robert then gets his hands on a hair sample and in a brilliant lab test using early - and legitimate - forms of chemical analysis, they discover that the hair comes from a wolf; which soon disappears before their very eyes. They return to the Hammond estate in order to explore further around the island. That night, Helga is kidnapped and leads us into a thrilling final sequence, Robert and the others chase the creature to the beach. It’s Jaws’ (1975) structure - keeping the monster in shadows and showing only fragments until the final moment where he catches himself from falling off the cliff, crawls up, and the police shoot him down. We finally see the monster, though just for a split second; where in fairly convincing stop motion he transforms, revealing himself as Oliver Hammond. Roberts soon learns that the family curse has actually been genetic, with the lineage affected with lycanthropy; that is, the mythological shift between wolf and man. It’s a beautiful film, providing all you want from classical era horror. It also leaves you sad, wondering why Universal’s Wolfman would get five sequels and how this one got zero. It’s so easy to see Roberts and Christy return as they battle a new type of monster - vampire, invisible man, sea creatures. The film plays like an early version of X-Files, with the same will-they/won’t-they sexual tension. It’s a series that never was, that could have produced some of the area's finest horror sequels. Similar to Brahm’s career, the film is a case of what cinema could have been. BELOW: Check it out Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Nazi Noir Director: Fritz Lang Writer: Story by Fritz Lang and Bertolt Brecht; screenplay by John Wexley Cinematographer: Producer: Fritz Lang and Arnold Pressburger by Jon Cvack As I’ve said before on my thoughts on Woman in the Moon (1929) and Cloak and Dagger (1946), Fritz lang is the greatest director to graduate from the silent era. While Yasujirō Ozu also made a successful leap, the content and style of his films didn’t necessarily change (case in point in having made Floating Weeds both in 1934 and then again in 1959). Lang went from creating epic action-adventure/sci-fi/spy thriller stories, to then shifting into film noir and creating some of the genre’s greatest contributions - Clash by Night (1952), Scarlet Street (1945), and Woman in the Window (1944). He’d preserve the spy genre for films such as Cloak and Dagger and his last film The Thousand Eyes of Doctor Mabuse (1960; which I haven’t yet seen). Hangmen Also Die! was his first partnership with German playwright Bertolt Brecht, who I’m not familiar with his works, I recognize the name all the same. The film is long for the era, clocking in at around 2 hours and 15 minutes, and while often feeling longer than required, utilized some of Lang’s finest chops. It’s important to note that this film was made near the height of Nazi power, following the assassination of Nazi Reinhard Heydrich who after living penniless during the German depression, became involved with the SS, later appointed by Heinrich Himmler to orchestrate the Holocaust. Resistance fighters soon killed him, though counter to the relatively more positive ending of Lang’s film, they and their families were systematically rounded up and killed or sent off to concentration camps. Hangmen Also Die! takes place moments after this assassination, following the man responsible, doctor and Czech resistance fighter Frantisek Svoboda (Brian Donlevy) who successfully murders the “Hangman of Europe” Reinhard Heydrich (Hans Heinrich von Twardowski). However, after a botched getaway, Franticek meets a woman, Mascha (Anna Lee), who helps him escape by inviting him back to her parent’s house. He meets Mascha’s father, Professor Stephen Novotny (Walter Brennan) who the Nazi’s prevented from teaching due to his activism, along with his wife Hellie (Nana Bryant) and Mascha’s younger and precocious brother Beda (William Roy). On par with Hitchcock, we watch as the family acts as though Mascha has brought over a simple visitor rather than the man who’s assassinated one of the top Nazi leaders. Tension soars as the radio then announces the manhunt, while Stephen admits to his own resistant roots and how he would have likely been a friendly ally just a few years back. The search calms and Franticek then leaves, attempting to keep his actions quiet while the manhunt continues, led by Emil Czaka (Gene Lockhart). Soon they round up over 400 men, including Professor Novotny, demanding the assassin come forward or they’ll execute them all one by one. For such an engaging plot, the film’s length left me lost with many of the details. Mascha ultimately discovers Franticek’s role in Heydrich’s murder, attempts to go to the police, but soon realizes how extensive the resistance network actually is, as they rise up one by one to prevent Mascha from revealing Franticek’s identity. So begins a cat and mouse game as Emil uses all of his SS resources to accost people, round them up, and ransack their apartments all in the search for who killed their colleagues. He enjoys his beer and cigars and the opportunity to run a bureaucratic machine where he’s given close to unlimited resources. While each scene presents some version or other of Chekov’s “gun under the table”, one in particular involves one of the shot resistant fighters entering into Franticek’s apartment where Mascha joins him, and they hide the man behind a curtain. Emil enters minutes later and Franticek and Mascha strip down, making it appear they were just hooking up; only for Mascha’s fiance to then enter and believe his future wife was cheating on him. Mascha plays the angle, knowing it’s the only thing to save the injured man’s life. Franticek then sees blood dripping on an old book below the curtain, then offering Emil some wine. He returns, faking a trip over the carpet where he throws the wine on the book and obscures the evidence. The film ends on a somber note as while Franticek gets away by implicating a resistance double agent of the crime, they’re too late in saving the other men who were taken to a mass grave and shot to the death; the elegy they sing on the way nominated for a Best Song Oscar. I recently finished Richard J. Evan’s first volume of his history Nazi trilogy; following their rise to power and up to the invasion of Poland. While I’m one to refrain on Nazi comparisons, I think it’s always better to look at history as a guide. I do not think we’re headed for mass human extermination, but many of the same plays were carried out back then - ginning up fear and crisis by blaming the Jews, labeling them as animals and subhuman, attacking the free press in order to discredit their work, distorting truth from lie, and using the courts in order to achieve and preserve power. In Trump’s current detention centers, we’ve heard of children facing sexual abuse, forced hysterectomies, denied medical attention, forced to take drugs, and be ripped away from their families. Trump constantly uses buzzwords to divide the country between the “patriots” who support him and the “traitors” who disagree. I see members of family repeat demonstrable falsehoods with no defense other than I should be the one who looks into their side, rather than that they should look to at least some other information source beyond Fox News and right wing media. But as they’re constantly told that the rest of the press is the enemy and Democrats hate their freedom, it’s easy to see why they wouldn’t look anywhere else. It all relies on creating a grand conspiracy; to make people question our institutions such as the courts, intelligence communities, or politicians just enough so that they depend entirely on a singular point of view. A few weeks ago I finished Hannah Arendt’s book “Eichmann in Jerusalem” which attempted to examine the morality behind a state commanding its people to commit a supreme evil - should Eichmann be at fault if it was state law to carry out the Holocaust? The answer is yes, but Arendt does extend the conversation further along. After all, the majority of German citizens often looked the other way while its citizens were slowly rounded up; either they supported it, didn’t care, or were too scared to do anything about it. Should they too be at fault for allowing their leaders to commit the heinous crimes? Given the lies it was based upon, the answer to that is no. But it does go to show the power of creating religious-level devotion to one person and their cause; where people are willing to turn a blind eye toward what’s wrong in order to support a larger mission. I have problems on the left and the ideological purity so many demand, which given the broad spectrum of change and the myriad ways it can occur, inevitably creates divisions. It’s why so often liberal revolutions lead to violent regimes, as those most willing to kill for what they want consolidate the power. The problem I see today is supreme partisanship; where so many demand that everyone else follows their own rigid system. A failure to welcome compromise at the cost of absolute gridlock, perpetuating the problem and causing further animosity, seems to be yet another dangerous issue we face. So long as people only consume information that reinforces their beliefs, there seems no end in sight. And as problems of climate change and inequality grow worse by the day, it seems like a ticking time bomb. Like any animal trapped in a corner, it’s only a matter of time before they lash out. Given that I wrote this about eighteen months ago, crazy to think we’re now seeing that in live time. BELOW: A little taste of Twardowki's Heydrich Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Might look familiar Director: Alfred Hitchcock Writer: Thornton Wilder, Sally Benson, and Alma Reville; story by Gordon McDonell Cinematographer: Joseph A. Valentine Producer: Jack H. Skirball by Jon Cvack After Saboteur (1942), I headed into the next of Hitchcock’s 1940s contributions, and again haven’t watched this since first receiving the Masterpiece Collection. Shadow of a Doubt is a bit different from most of Hitchcock’s storyline, in this case being about an murderous uncle who tries to hide out in a small American town. “Uncle” Charles Oakley (Joseph Cotten) arrives by train in Santa Rosa, California, where his niece Charlotte “Charlie” Newton waits for him; the train covers her in a thick dark shadow as it pulls in and Uncle Charlie gets off. They head back home where we meet the rest of the Newton family, including Charlie’s sister and Charlotte’s mom Emma Newton (Patricia Collinge) who absolutely adores her brother, Charlotte’s dad and true crime lover Joseph Newton (Henry Travers), and her younger erudite sister Ann (Edna May Wonacott). Together they all welcome them into their home, hoping that Uncle Charlie might agree to settle down nearby. Suspicions are raised when a pair of news photographers visit the Newton home for a magazine story, who Charlotte later discovers are a couple of undercover detectives on the hunt for a killer; with one of the detectives Jack Graham (Macdonald Carey) soon falling for her after she discovers his occupation. He reveals that they’re in town looking for the “Merry Widow Murderer” who killed a wealthy widow in San Francisco. It’s when Uncle Charlie gives Charlotte a beautiful and expensive emerald ring with strange initials in the band that Charlotte later pieces together the story when visiting a local library that contains one the news clipping about the murder, discovering that the victim had the same initials. Throughout the film the oblivious father Joseph and his friend and fellow true crime connoisseur Herbie Hawkins (Hume Cronyn) try to piece together the perfect murder as a type of dark hobby; sharing all of the latest literature. Their schemes come to loggerheads shortly after Charlotte pieces together the story as Herbie offers wild poison mushrooms which Joseph dispels immediately. Charlotte erupts at dinner and Uncle Charlie immediately understands; attempting to tell her he’s only one of two suspects, and the cops have it all wrong. He’ll leave later that night if she stays quiet. She agrees until Jack reveals that witnesses have positively identified him in the photos they took, and soon Uncle Charlie tries to kill her with what appears to be an accidental death. First by cutting the wooden staircase out back, causing her to fall, and later locking her in the garage where he left the car running with no keys in the ignition (strange to think this was ever a possibility in automobiles). She’s rescued at the last minute. The next day, Uncle Charlie announces he’s leaving for San Francisco with the rich widow Mrs. Potter who has taken a particular liking to him. Seeing him off, Charlotte and her siblings board the train. When Charlotte is left alone with him he attempts to push her off the train, and in a scene that puts thrills above the murder, after a tense struggle, Uncle Charlie is about to push her off, deciding to wait for the train to pick up speed. Charlotte breaks free and flips things around, tossing him off and onto a speeding train roaring from the other direction. Aside from Jack, she doesn’t tell anyone about the details; having committed the perfect murder which her dad sure would surely care about. This is a story that would get repeated throughout the 90s with films such as Domestic Disturbance (2001), The Good Son (1993), Fear (1996), and Sleeping with the Enemy (1991), with the main character discovering a dark truth about a friend or relative, struggling to get anyone to believe them. The hardest thing to pull off with these films is keeping the logic above water; allowing the other characters to maintain their doubts and remain oblivious. The closer the story can come to the line the better; as it’s that narrow escape, whether through death or information, that creates a sense of thrill. Shadow of a Doubt does a great job in creating characters that would honor this premise. Emma is so adoring of her brother that both her love and inevitable heartbreak and blind devotion prevent her from ever piecing together the details. Herbie and Joseph succeed by the irony in obsessing over the perfect murder, failing to ever see what’s going on right in front of them; made all the juicier by having them never discover how close they were. The town and its upper social echelons are oblivious to the tragedy due to Uncle Charlie’s alleged generosity; overlooking his suspicious wealth and charm by personally benefiting from it. It’s a film that’s third place Hitchcock; good but not great, as although there’s a particular thrill with watching a devastating secret slowly be uncovered, it’s the climatic sequence that prevents it from ever achieving a higher place. I’m not sure why Hitchcock engaged in such a thrilling sequence for the climax before allowing Charlotte to gain the upper hand. Uncle Charlie wanted to ensure her death, but the fight seems so determined to push Charlotte off that having him then pause, for Charlotte to then flip things around and kill him seems like it could have benefited from the reverse. The fight to Charlotte being thrown off could have happened quicker, when Charlotte then gains the upper hand, struggling to push Uncle Charlie off as the other train approached. The ending is deliciously Hitchcock, as it wasn’t even until I wrote this out that I realized Charlotte accomplished what her dad and Herbie were obsessing over. It’s a great film with stellar performances all around, taking place in that idyllic small American town which seems uninterested in anything beyond their borders. The kind of place that would now be conservative, where today's toxic politics would now infect. Then again, that might make for an interesting update to an unexplored story as of late. BELOW: Classic Hitch Creep Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A master class in creating sexual tension in even the most thrilling moments Director: Alfred Hitchcock Writer: Peter Viertel, Joan Harrison, and Dorothy Parker Cinematographer: Joseph A. Valentine Producer: Frank Lloyd and Jack H. Skirball by Jon Cvack Saboteur stems from the possibly apocryphal story of five year old Hitchcock whose father sent him to the police for acting up, in which the officers then placed him in a prison and told him, “This is what we do to naughty boys.” Allegedly it had such an impact on Hitchcock that he’d obsess over the idea of the wrongfully accused long into his career. The film is about a munitions plant worker Barry Kane (Robert Cummings) during WWII (it was released in 1942) who, when breaking for lunch with his friend Mason (Virgil Summers), bumps into an abrasive and unfamiliar man Fry (Norman Lloyd) who drops a letter which they pick up. They head off to the cafeteria when a fire alarm breaks out in the factory and the workers race to put it out. Fry hands Barry a fire extinguisher filled with gasoline, who then hands it to Mason as he runs inside to save the factory and dies in a pool of flames. Barry attempts to tell the cops about the man Fry, but when the authorities can’t find anyone with the name on the roster, they suspect Barry is the saboteur. Barry goes on the run, deciding to check out the address he saw on Fry’s letter which he hopes could provide some answers. He hitches a ride with a truck driver (Murray Alper) in which the nameless character provides the film’s best scene, as the driver rants about his personal life, specifically his wife’s love of hats, completely unaware of Barry’s predicament. Soon they end up at a stateline police roadblock, positioned over a bridge. He escapes by jumping into the water beyond, hiding behind some boulders as the officers close in. The driver shouts that he saw the man in the other direction, risking his career - and all those hats for his wife. It’s interesting to note that Robert Cummings was often a comedy/western actor with few serious or memorable roles before this film. Combined with his Handsome Everyman face, the actor exudes innocence, allowing us to buy why so many people seem willing to help him; something an A-list leading man would’ve failed to convey. He works his way to a cattle ranch where he meets a charming older man Charles Tobin (Otto Kruger) who’s playing with his granddaughter in the pool. He warmly welcomes Barry into his home where Barry then finds a letter indicating that Fry had gone to Soda City. Charles returns with a gun, and Barry attempts to use the granddaughter as leverage, though not before Charles’ cronies capture, handcuff, and take him away back to the police. Barry jumps out of the car, heading deep into the woods where he ends up at a cabin where an old blind man (Vaughan Glaser) resides, once again welcoming Barry into his home. Moments later, the blind man’s ad model niece Patricia "Pat" Martin (Priscilla Lane) arrives, immediately sees the handcuffs, which the blind man then admits he knew of all along; operating out of the presumed innocence of another man; trusting that Barry is a kind and good man in trouble. He implores Pat to take Barry to his blacksmith friend, which she does reluctantly. She then flips Barry’s cuffed hands over the steering wheel and vows to instead take him to the police; providing a classic Hitchcockian sexual tension as the two argue inches from each other’s face. Barry soon attempts to gain control of the car, causing it crash, though he uses the engine’s fan blade to cut the cuffs and the two continue on into the desert where they board a passing carnival caravan, finding themselves in the sleeping compartment of the troupe’s best performers - including siamese twins (Jean Romer; Laura Mason), a fat woman Titania (Marie LeDeaux), a midget named Major (Billy Curtis), and their gaunt leader Bones (Pedro de Cordoba); in which Major demands they kick the free riders off their car before getting them into trouble; fortunately saved by Bones and the others who vote to keep them in the car and get them to Soda City. They arrive at Boulder Dam (which is large enough for you to think is the Hoover Dam) where the other saboteurs have planted an explosive, wired up to the detonator in a small hut with a hole cut through the door in order to spy on the place with a telescope. This is another great sequence as what looks like an ordinary cabin is uncovered to be the control center for their next sabotage; first by showing some of the machine, then finding the hole on the door, before finally getting the telescope and looking out to see what it all adds up to. It’s Hitchcock operating at top level in piquing and exciting our interest in discovering where the story goes alongside the characters. Barry hides Martin in the back as Barry convinces the others that he’s there to assist with their next mission, which once again, they agree to. However, moments before they leave, they hear a noise in the back and just before finding Martin, she dips below an escape entrance; which would be absolutely absurd if not for the rest of the mysterious cabin. Barry returns to New York where the next target is a U.S. Navy battleship due to launch to sea in just a few days. Barry was so good at the act that Martin heads to the authorities to inform them of the plot, who then enters into the cat and mouse game for Barry while Martin finds herself within a corrupted police system, in which it’s impossible to trust just about anyone. It’s writing this out that I realize that Hitchcock has achieved the rare and miraculous; in which words do nothing to justify what he accomplishes, in which nearly every scene is a thrill to watch. Only at the party does it take a breath, allowing the plot’s details to get spelled out before descending back into a thrilling final act as Fry and Barry end up at the top of the Statue of Liberty. To list things out is an injustice to the story and like Truffaut and other scholars, to capture screenshots to show the sequence fails to capture what Hitchcock accomplishes within each and every frame. Even with a topic of domestic terrorism, Hitchcock avoids politics, instead opting to immerse the viewer with the experience of an ordinary person placed within extraordinary circumstances. His films are an experience, in which the only assessment to be made is to explain the feeling one gets from his films. From the truck drive to the carnival caravan to allowing the battleship to explode, it all adds up into a film that provides both thrills and escape. The greatest thing you could ask from the pinnacle of cinema. The movies aren’t about any grand ideas or universal truths so much as an experience; a type of thrill ride in which questions lead to answers which lead to more questions, and becomes all the more exciting in each subsequent scene. BELOW: Norman Lloyd talking about the Statue of Liberty scene since the real thing ain't on the YouTube Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Don't hear much about the Norwegian-American experience Director: George Stevens Writer: DeWitt Bodeen; based on I Remember Mama (1944) by John Van Druten Cinematographer: Nicholas Musuraca Producer: Harriet Parsons and George Stevens by Jon Cvack A friend recommended I read "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" (1943) last summer which I added to a book list and later received as a birthday present. For those unfamiliar, it’s the coming of age story about a young girl growing up in New York City, taking place from 1910 through the mid 20s, and it was one of the best pieces of fiction I read all year. The story reminded of the greatest of coming of age stories, Little Women (1933; I haven’t read the book, though I know it’s regarded as the very best), Persepolis (both the book (2000) and the movie (2007)), or even Now and Then (1995); providing the rare glimpse of a universal story told from a female’s perspective. Coincidentally, the one thing they all have in common is a central character who grew up to be a writer. I Remember Mama is a tragically underrated story of the same form, told from the perspective of a young and aspiring first generation Norwegian-American Katrin Hanson (Barbara Bel Geddes), opening up by explaining how she had always wanted to be a writer while staring out a window as she completes the last lines of her autobiography. The story flashes back to 1910 as Katrin, her siblings, and father Lars “Papa” Hanson (Philip Dorn) sit before the true head of the household, Marta “Mama” Hanson (Irene Dunne). She’s going over the finances, hoping to put some money away in the “bank” and hopefully one day buy herself a new coat. Their eldest son Nel (Steve Brown) then asks to go to high school, and needing the materials and lunch money, the bank once again gets drained for the needs of her children. Like Diner (1982), the film then enters into a series of relatively unrelated anecdotes about each of the characters. When Marta’s sister Aunt Trina (Ellen Corby) announces she’s marrying an undertaker, the fiance then requests a dowry. Though given that they have no money, they have to more or less hold in their laughs at the idea. When Katrin’s sister Dagmar (Ellen Corby) gets mastoiditis, landing her in the hospital (which my quick glance seems to be a weird infection of the skull before antibiotics could cure it), it further eats into their limited funds, until by some miracle, Marta’s alcoholic brother Uncle Chris (Oscar Homolka), who while rambling drunk most times, is also quite wealthy and opts to pay for the operation and save the girl’s life. In a later chapter, after Katrin nabs a role in "The Merchant of Venice" at a local theater, Marta again gives up her brooch to buy an heirloom dresser set as a reward. Katrin then learns that she traded off the dresser for the coat, once again. Upset, she gives the dresser set to Christine, which upsets her mother even more; providing a deeply touching moment when a child grasps what it means to be an adult. As a right of passage, Nel and Marta offer Kristin her first cup of coffee. Overwhelmed with emotion and embarrassment, she runs out of the room to be alone. Uncle Chris then falls ill, providing a grueling, though heartfelt scene as he shares his last moments with his sister and wife, even allowing Kristin in to visit where he explains that he unfortunately has no money to leave as he’s donated it all to help those in need. He then shares one last drink with Marta and his wife, requesting that they lower the blinds to prevent the afternoon sun from falling upon his face; and in that brilliant way the classic era of filmmaking occasionally accomplished - in which the images are as beautiful as anything created today - we watch as the sun splashes against his face while the blind’s shadow draws down upon his face and he fades off to death. The story rounds out as Katrin begins to send her stories out for publication and experiences the initial rounds of seemingly endless rejection. She rounds up most of her stories, though on the verge of destroying them and quitting forever, her mother stops her; asking why she can’t just go visit a famous author she loves, which being a teenager, is the stupidest idea she’s ever heard. Matra tries any way, finding the famous gourmand author Florence Dana Moorhead who she asks to provide any notes she can. Florence resists, until Matra explains her expertise in Norwegian cooking, detailing recipes and offering an exchange, which Florence accepts. Returning the manuscripts with a note, Florence explains that, like most early writers, she is much too concerned with attempting to replicate her favorite writers and their stories rather than finding her voice and writing what she knows, leading her to her creative eye toward her family. After writing a short story about her family, it gets accepted by some publication which pays her $500, which even by today’s standards, seems like an extravagant sum of money for a young writer (according to inflation this would equate to about $5000 today; not too bad). Her mom can finally buy the coat she always wanted. The family then listens as she reads it aloud. Shortly before this moment director George Stephens plays out a long sing taken, with the camera positioned in the hallway, as each member of the family enters and exits rooms; the father and son working on an weighted-rising bathroom window through a gutted wall, which keeps falling at precisely timed moments as the family converses; even though it appears no one’s operating it. As simple as the coming of age element is, the craft of the movie is incredible; with each scene providing a brilliant blocking of characters and composition. I was left thinking of when, if ever, a movie like this could succeed again; entirely focused on the immigrant experience. It seems as though the success of both the play and the film was in conveying the immigration experience. Similar to "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn", providing that particular insight into a specific culture; in the ways that only someone growing up in such a situation could possibly understand. I can’t think of the last film which explored migrants coming across seas for the American Dream. It was a period of storytelling only possible because of the policies in place. It seems like now’s a pretty good time to revisit it. BELOW: Not much on the YouTube front so here's the trailer Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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