The Milky Way (1936).

Review #2369: The Milky Way.

Cast: 

Harold Lloyd (Burleigh "Tiger" Sullivan), Adolphe Menjou (Gabby Sloan), Verree Teasdale (Ann Westley), Helen Mack (Mae Sullivan), William Gargan (Speed McFarland), George Barbier (Wilbur Austin), Dorothy Wilson (Polly Pringle), Lionel Stander (Spider Schultz), and Marjorie Gateson (Winthrop Lemoyne) Directed by Leo McCarey (#085 - Duck Soup, #1350 - Love Affair, #1394 - An Affair to Remember)

Review: 

It does hurt, in a sense, to reach the near end of the Harold Lloyd run. The Milky Way was the fifth sound movie that he starred in, which if you remember correctly, were not exactly comparable to his silent output in terms of audience appeal. By this point, he wasn't even the producer of his own movies and now he was 43 (to say nothing of the fact that every movie made after 1919 was done with a special glove to hide the fact that he had just eight fingers). The year after this movie was released, Lloyd sold the land of his studio to the Latter-day Saints, and the year after that saw him star in his last sound movie for nearly ten years. With this movie, it was based off Lynn Root & Harry Clork's 1934 play of the same name*, and three screenwriters are credited with this adaptation: Grover Jones, Frank Butler**, and Richard Connell. Evidently the movie was the byproduct of casting shuffles, as apparently it was originally developed in mind with Jack Oakie to star, and somehow Ida Lupino was in talks to play the role ultimately played by Dorothy Wilson before Lupino got sick and bowed out. This was the tenth of thirteen movies that McCarey made in the 1930s, one made in between Ruggles of Red Gap [1935] and Make Way for Tomorrow [1937] (incidentally, McCarey actually was the son of a fight promoter; the USC law school graduate even tried boxing before trying his hand at getting involved with film and went from gagman to director). A handful of cast mates and McCarey got sick during production and apparently it fell to Norman Z. McLeod and Ray McCarey to shoot a few sequences (uncredited). The play has been filmed one time since, with The Kid from Brooklyn (1946), as produced by Samuel Goldwyn with Danny Kaye in the lead role of a musical comedy (Lionel Stander happened to appear in both movies). As you might expect from the old days of trying to corner the market, Goldwyn had purchased the original negative of the 1936 movie, pulled them from circulation and nearly every print in order to destroy them. Of course, he didn't get all of them, and the best version of the movie actually is one that came from a print preserved by Lloyd himself. 

It does help to have some zip for a comedy, yes. The last of his sound movies with The Cat's Paw (1934) was relatively successful in having a pairing of Lloyd with an established supporting presence (George Barbier) that wasn't about just bumbling around with middle-ground romance, and even Movie Crazy (1932) had some promise too. The 88-minute runtime for this movie basically leaves the film with two distinct segments: Lloyd doing Lloyd elements (to a point) and the attempts at verbal jabs and occasional visual stuff. The movie does pretty well, for the most part, mostly because it has the composure of confidence for both filmmaker and in cast, mainly because it isn't just bumbling around with misunderstandings (it instead plays on one guy trying to hustle both the media and a fighter) that might be Lloyd's most accomplished movie since oh, probably Speedy (1928). You've got a guy being trained to fight by playing it tune to the waltz and antics with a horse to go with brief interludes in the ring (and a horse, I suppose). I like the distinct difference Lloyd gets to play before and after getting in the ring in terms of heightened confidence. Menjou and Stander makes their moments count with such worthy timing in terms of huckster pride (with the latter having a voice practically made for it) that keeps the movie fresh beyond just looking at Lloyd or the varying moments spent around Teasdale, Mack, or Wilson (who are equally fine). While you might know just what is coming around the corner for a chunk of its tenure, there is still enough interest generated by the energy that is present on screen, such as with its resourcefully quick ending to generate a worthwhile ending. As a whole, Lloyd's one play at the screwball movie with McCarey in tow is a fine one, having enough fun with antics and a game cast to make a worthwhile curiosity worth looking into.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*It's funny to be semi-reminded of Battling Butler (1926), which dealt with Buster Keaton playing a guy being involved with a deception involving boxing, although that was based on its own play and is clearly distinct from The Milky Way; by coincidence, Chaplin also did a boxing sequence with City Lights (1931). But hey, never hurts to name drop.

**That would future Academy Award-winning writer Frank Butler to go along with future Academy Award winning director/writer McCarey, as Butler's collaboration with Frank Cavett for the screenplay to McCarey's Going My Way [1944] won an Academy Award, although that was a weird year in general, because McCarey's story for the film also wound up getting him an Academy Award for "Best Story" which well, goes to show what awards come and go.

The Walking Dead (1936).

Review #2267: The Walking Dead.

Cast: 

Boris Karloff (John Elman), Ricardo Cortez (Nolan), Edmund Gwenn (Dr. Beaumont), Marguerite Churchill (Nancy), Warren Hull (Jimmy), Barton MacLane (Loder), Henry O'Neill (Werner), Joseph King (Judge Shaw), Addison Richards (Prison Warden), and Paul Harvey (Blackstone) Directed by Michael Curtiz (#125 - Casablanca, #416 - Yankee Doodle Dandy, #505 - The Adventures of Robin Hood, #529 - Mildred Pierce, #719 - Mystery of the Wax Museum, #1370 - Life with Father)

Review: 

Sure, of course Warner Bros. thought they could have some fun making a horror film. Sure, you can see the clear inspiration when it comes to having Boris Karloff star as a lumbering man back from the dead, particularly since this came out a year after Universal's Bride of Frankenstein (1935) ...but here it is arranged within the trappings of a gangster film. Of course, the obsession with trying to bring back people from a fate worse than a broken leg wasn't limited to the current day. The "perfusion pump", for example, is shown for a moment during the pivotal resurrection scene. This glass device was designed by Charles Lindbergh and Dr. Alexis Carrel to try and keep organs functioning outside of the body (the process can be explained better in articles such as this); Lindbergh wanted to find ways to help his sister-in-law, who had a bad heart. Labeled as a "mechanical heart" in some circles, Lindberg and Carrel were even featured on magazine covers for their invention (better ways of "organ perfusion" eventually came around in the next couple of years, naturally). In 1935, a film wad made called Life Returns, which featured the exploits of Dr. Robert E. Cornish, a biologist that had an interest in restoring life that tried using a teeterboard/see-saw to try and get the blood flowing of the dead...it technically worked, albeit not perfectly, on dogs (interestingly, the film didn't exactly get a great release). Incidentally, Karloff would star in two subsequent features in the following years dealing with resurrection with The Man They Could Not Hang (1939) and The Man with Nine Lives (1940), which took inspiration from Cornish. Evidently with this film, Karloff was slated with little dialogue to speak before he raised issue with said matter. Five people were given credit for the writing: Ewart Adamson, Peter Milne, Robert Hardy Andrews and Lillie Hayward wrote the screenplay, while Adamson and Joseph Fields wrote the story. The movie was directed by Michael Curtiz, a particularly busy director in the 1930s that had some experience in horror (among others in the 30+ films he did in the decade) with Doctor X (1932) and Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933).

Okay, you're going to love the way the "resurrected" man decides to handle being framed for murder. After he is brought back from being electrocuted, he seems to have developed a certain type of clot in his brain that gives him a strange knowledge of just who had framed him. Oh, but it gets better, he actually gets his revenge, in perhaps the most curious way possible. Of course, the film is pretty fast and loose at getting there with a 66-minute runtime. Karloff proves a quality knowing presence to unnerve the soul when it comes to second sight with select times to speak or just stare. The funny thing about this horror/crime feature is that there isn't really much of a villainous presence or even a ham actor. Gwenn might be the lead scientist presence, but it ends up coming off as just warm curiosity that is fine for someone with as much experience on stage and film as you'd expect from him (one can take a guess what film you would recognize that voice from). Churchill and Hull are serviceable enough when you consider that the rest of the folks don't have much to do besides being casually terrorized after the execution. Okay, so the array of deaths that happen in the film are done not by any one man but are actually a string of accidents that just happen to involve our lead character because of his "sense" of knowing who led to his death. Probably the most amusing is a guy nervous about who just stumbled in to confront him that decides to run only to encounter a train. The movie has plenty of shadows and fog to keep things looking ideal rather than just being a Frankenstein cheapie. In general, the movie is a quietly solid one, not rocking the boat too much in unnerving horror (the resurrection scene might be the most involving for the sheer execution of it, although the last scene is interesting) but generally working well with one's expectations. This is the kind of movie you can sense was made in a few weeks by professionals that came and went to get things done without too much fuss (five writers, but still) that will prove up to code.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The General Died at Dawn.

Review #2055: The General Died at Dawn.

Cast: 

Gary Cooper (O'Hara), Madeleine Carroll (Judy Perrie), Akim Tamiroff (General Yang), Dudley Digges (Mr. Wu), Porter Hall (Peter Perrie/Peter Martin), William Frawley (Brighton), J.M. Kerrigan (Leach), Philip Ahn (Oxford), Lee Tung Foo (Mr. Chen), and Leonid Kinskey (Stewart) Directed by Lewis Milestone (#901 - The Racket, #1336 - The Front Page, #1709 - Ocean's 11)

Review: 

Okay, it might sound a bit odd to pick this film out in the middle of a career, but Lewis Milestone is a pretty good one to spotlight again. If you can do films such as Two Arabian Knights (1927) and All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), one wouldn't be surprised to see him here with a melodrama action film. Of course, anyone was a student of Columbia University's School of Military Cinematography within the Signal Corps would have a good knowledge of photography. He started in comedy but took on various genres, one of which included adventure-melodrama. He needed it after his last two films (both musicals) in Paris in Spring (1935) and Anything Goes (1936) flopped. While he later considered The General Died at Dawn a film "of little consequence", it ended up being a pretty noted feature in his lengthy career. The film was written by Charles G. Booth and Clifford Odets. Odets was a noted playwright for his social dramas who did a handful of scripts (some without credit) while Booth was just starting out as a screenwriter (one of his future stories with The House on 92nd Street (1942) would win him an Academy Award).

So, we have a tale of a man who likes to root for the underdog and therefore has decided to help people from their oppression. In that sense, it reminds one of the real-life figure Two-Gun Cohen, a British/Canadian adventure with Jewish roots that basically became a soldier of fortune for Chinese-related efforts (such as the National Revolutionary Army). Some of this plays out pretty well in cynicism in the portrayal laid out by Cooper more so than anybody else for a film made in a time where Armenian actors are put out in latex to play Asian characters. If you enjoyed the exploits of train adventure involving warlords with Shanghai Express (1932), you will find plenty to partake here, although obviously they don't have the same dynamics. Cooper and Carroll make an adequate pair together, mostly since the latter isn't given as much to do despite being quite engaging, but their last scenes together around the climax do the job. Tamiroff, Hall, and Kerrigan are the general adversaries, although obviously attention is focused on the first one (since he was the one actor to receive an Academy Award nomination here). Tamiroff accomplishes the main goal with worthy timing and edge, while Hall makes a quality fool and Kerrigan makes a most useful sinister toady. This is basically a "wham-bam and figure the plot eventually ma'am" kind of movie, where you kind of just have to go with whatever the film is laying out and hope things play out to satisfaction. Like other adventures for others to identify, it is the kind of movie where one might as well be asking, "why not just shoot him?". Aside from its final conclusion, the movie does work out to expectations. And what I mean by that is the part where the lead character has to convince the villain to save their lives...so that they can tell others about the General's exploits due to their impending death. And, well, since you already read this, the General then orders his men to kill each other for the honor. No, really. If you can take the film seriously enough for most of its 98-minute runtime, even an ending that may verge on "convenient" may work fine enough to not ruin the general experience. I will go with what the movie is running with its attempts in the general sense of romances and adventure at dawn and call it a pleasant one to recommend. With a director like Milestone, it is a quality mission for one to accept.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Osaka Elegy.

Review #1954: Osaka Elegy.

Cast: 

Isuzu Yamada (Ayako Murai), Seiichii Takekawa (Junzo Murai), Chiyoko Okura (Sachiko Murai), Shinpachiro Asaka (Hiroshi Murai), Benkei Shiganoya (Sonosuke Asai), Yoko Umemura (Sumiko Asai), Eitarō Shindō (Yoshizo Fujino), Kunio Tamura (Dr. Yoko), Kensaku Hara (Susumu Nishimura), and Takashi Shimura (Inspector) Directed by Kenji Mizoguchi.

Review: 

"Filmmakers must study the film image and its potential for expression. This is our primary responsibility."

It never seems too busy to cover another classic Japanese director of the first time, as with the cast of Kenji Mizoguchi. Born in Hongō, Tokyo, his family went through poverty due to a failed business venture by his father during the Russo-Japanese War. The result was that Mizoguchi's sister was put up for adoption (effectively selling her to a geisha house). In childhood, he suffered from rheumatoid arthritis, which resulted in a lifelong gait. His first work as a teenager ended up being as an apprenticeship in designer for yukata manufacturing, as arranged by his sister (his mother died before he was even twenty). He studied art (specifically Western-style painting) before working in advertisement design before entering the film industry as an assistant director at the age of 22 in 1920 with Nikkatsu. He directed his first film with The Resurrection of Love (1923). A good deal of his films from the 1920s and 1930s are considered lost, but a good deal of those films were remakes of works from German Expressionist cinema and the works of authors such as Eugene O'Neill. It was Osaka Elegy (1936) and Sisters of the Gion (1936) where he felt he first reached maturity as an artist, while The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums (1939) is considered his major pre-WWII achievement. He also made a couple of films during the war that honed a bit of patriotic effort such as The 47 Ronin, a two-part jidaigeki (historical drama) released in 1941 and 1942. Described as a master of the long take (as described by himself as "One shot, one take"), Mizoguchi made over one hundred films until his death from leukemia in 1956, which included internation recognition in the later years of his career with films such as The Life of Oharu (1952), Ugetsu (1953), and Sansho the Bailiff (1954). A tireless pusher of his crew, he is called one of the prime directors of Japan's "golden age" of cinema alongside Akira Kurosawa and Yasujirō Ozu, although it probably doesn't reflect well on me that Mizoguchi was third covered among the three esteemed directors.

Osaka Elegy (1936) and Sisters of the Gion (1936) share the same writers (Yoshikata Yoda and Mizoguchi), cinematographer (Minoru Miki), producer, and select actors (Yamada and Umemura, Shiganoya, Shindo), and each has received attention among viewers of the pre-war era of films (Japan invaded China one year later); Osaka came out first. This film involves a switchboard operator trapped in having to make a decision about trying to help her family out of a rough situation that ends with her being wrapped in a situation with her boss. Yamada is an ideal presence among the modern woman wrapped in a world of conniving people with wavering moral fiber. She is flawed like the people that try to pursue her, but she conveys compelling curiosity over how much we care about her qualities. She is an individual in a place that cares about father figures and obligations more than her. With that in mind, Shiganoya and Takekawa are quality representations of the hypocrisy that befalls people falling into a downward spiral, whether that involves foolish pride or foolish trifling in affairs. The bunraku (puppet theatre) theatre sequence works well in outlining the nature of these people as if they were puppets themselves, mere playthings constrained by distinct hands and behavior. I admire the last sequence that follows Yamada into an unknown future, one where she asks about any supposed cures for delinquency before wandering off, no doubt to participate again in the cycle of moral decadence (the sequence involving the reunion between the family is also effective in its stark realities).

At any rate, a 71-minute pace is not much to ask for Osaka Elegy, which is a fairly episodic feature on the suffering that comes with the trouble of being a young woman in a world that has only certain needs for them. The camera is a curious observer, leering at us at numerous angles without requiring many cuts that is quite riveting. It is a deft feature, one that is clear in its uncompromising tragedy with striking realism that makes it an interesting effort and useful starting point for viewers in world cinema. It is visually precise without becoming a preachy movie, one that finds that trying to escape the muck of social and gender norms can result in being on the same level as they are. True colors being laid out makes for a sobering and realistic feature. As a whole, it is fairly accomplished melodrama, devastating in tragedy of the modern woman without asking for tears that made for a worthy first venture of maturity from an accomplished director in Kenji Mizoguchi as an expression of useful imagery.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Great Guy.

Review #1834: Great Guy.

Cast: 

James Cagney (Johnny Cave), Mae Clarke (Janet Henry), James Burke (Patrick James Aloysius Haley), Edward Brophy (Pete Reilly), Henry Kolker (Abel Canning), Bernadene Hayes (Hazel Scott), Edward McNamara (Captain Pat Hanlon), Robert Gleckler (Marty Cavanaugh), Joe Sawyer (Joe Burton), and Edward Gargan (Al) Directed by John G. Blystone (#926 - Our Hospitality)

Review: 

I don't think you need to say many words about a semi-obscure 1930s movie, but why the hell not? Even an average movie from the era could be interesting, provided it does not bore the senses, if only because sometimes you can find something quizzical when doing a quick look for an "old-fashioned" movie. Besides, there is more to films of the 1930s than just looking at the year of 1939 and all of those classic times. At any rate, James Cagney started his film career during this particular decade. He had a decade of vaudeville and stage work behind him before Warner Bros. signed him to a contract (one that went from short-term to long-term extension), and The Public Enemy (1931) cemented him as a star. The film was based on the stories of James Edward Grant, who had written several stories involving the character played by Cagney that appeared in The Saturday Evening Post in 1933 and 1934. Henry McCarty and Henry Johnson wrote the screenplay while Henry Ruskin contributed additional dialogue (Horace McCoy apparently had been listed in earlier reports as a contributor but was dropped). The film was released by Grand National Films, who managed to snag James Cagney because he had sued Warner Bros. for breach of contract, owing to conflicts about top billing and monetary disputes. Grand National was a newly formed independent studio led by Edward L. Alperson. Cagney starred in two films for the studio: this film and Something to Sing About (1937), but neither were particularly successful for the studio, which would liquidate in 1939 after releasing a hundred films in its time, with many of the films being available in the public domain. Cagney returned to Warner Bros. after getting a substantially better deal. In the end, Cagney acted regularly in films until the 1960s that thrived in a variety of roles that ranged from "tough guy" to comedic. The film was directed by John G. Blystone, who directed dozens of films in both the silent and sound eras (after starting as a shorts director in the 1910s) before his death in 1938 at the age of 45.

So yes, this is a film...drama (calling it a noir is a bit too far) involving a fight against systemic cheating, with a man from the New York Department of Weights and Measures. Technically, there is a bit of light tone present here, since Cagney isn't the violent lead here (instead, he plays someone who just happens to have been a prizefighter before becoming a department man). Instead, it is a light film of 66 minutes that moves on one beat of a likably rigid lead fighting against the dangers of...shopkeepers that give you less product for their weight and gasoline guys that don't give you the proper gallon of gas. To be honest, I actually didn't know the Weights and Measures Department was actually real, because it sounds like the line to a cheeky joke one makes involving making a super-serious movie that is actually time for deadpan, but it actually is a real thing. In that sense, maybe it makes sense that this is a light film, one that can be watched with mild curiosity that doesn't have too many pretensions about being tightly packed suspense. Of course, it isn't anybody's idea of a great Cagney film to start with, but he is still game for what is needed in terms of drawing charisma where it is needed in confidence that carries the film through the potential leaky holes for a reasonable winner. It becomes a winner because of Cagney rather than in spite of him, since he elevates material that is borderline serviceable and makes it work just enough. Of course, the others aren't too bad themselves, with Clarke getting a few little moments with Cagney to make diverting chemistry together in differing approaches to the "racket" of things in life. Burke provides a few little moments with light humor as the momentary partner with Cagney (which mainly involves Irish references). The film does lack a suitable threat, since shifty aldermen (an okay Kolker and an ornery Gleckler) and heavies (Burton) could probably be utilized a bit more usefully. The only substantial fight scene is at the end, if only because having a scene where a cop "looks to smoke all of his cigar before intervening" is different from the usual showdown. As a whole, Great Guy is brisk and mildly involving that may be curious enough to just slip through as a win depending on the viewer and their attention to seeking out the films of James Cagney. To me, it is fine enough to work, for which one can thank Cagney and his confident swagger for making one want to stick through and keep the eyes open for what could happen next.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

My Man Godfrey.

Review #1787: My Man Godfrey.

Cast: 

William Powell (Godfrey), Carole Lombard (Irene Bullock), Alice Brady (Angelica Bullock), Gail Patrick (Cornelia Bullock), Jean Dixon (Molly), Eugene Pallette (Alexander Bullock), Alan Mowbray (Tommy Gray), Mischa Auer (Carlo), and Pat Flaherty (Mike Flaherty) Directed by Gregory La Cava.

Review: 

Admittedly, this film had been on the waitlist for quite a bit of time. The 1930s were an interesting time to see sound comedies make their way to the big screen with various stars and directors adapting (or not) to growing demands set by an audience that had plenty of interest in having a good time at the theater (of course, there was still room for a few little timely references of the day, but you get the idea). At any rate, it is also a decade that deserves far more coverage besides the usual classics; of course, this film is in of itself considered a worthy classic, considering that it features William Powell and Carole Lombard at their pinnacle in stature to go with a seasoned director with Gregory La Cava (he had agreed to do the film with Powell...and Constance Bennett). Born in 1892, the Pennsylvania native had started his adulthood in animation studios beginning in 1913; in 1922, he moved to Hollywood to do features (specifically comedies, shorts and features). By the time La Cava directed his final film in 1948, he had done over a hundred directorial efforts (with over thirty features), and he had seen five of his films receive notice with Academy Award nominations (with this being one of them); he died at the age of 59 in 1952.

The film is adapted from the 1935 novel 1101 Park Avenue by Eric Hatch. Hatch and Morrie Ryskind wrote the screenplay while Zoë Akins and Robert Presnell Sr served as contributors. As a screwball comedy, it proves quite efficient in its 94-minute run-time with a biting edge and energy from its main actors that makes for a fairly dignified time (perhaps it shouldn't be surprised that a remake would follow in 1957 alongside a Broadway production in 1985). There have been quite a few butler movies over the years, and this one does well with examining its quirky characters and situations without turning into outright farce. It is Powell that draws the most curiosity, in part because of how he manages to handle the screwball aspects with apparent clarity that has good timing and dignity. Of course, Lombard (cast at the request of Powell, who were actually married for a time) is right there to match against him with plenty of grace and charm that draws in her share of laughs, which is generally spent with Powell for interesting moments that all start with trying to one-up a scavenger hunter. Patrick makes a worthy snob to the antics, adept in bite that matches against the two leads well enough. Brady, a veteran actress of the silent and sound eras (who had taken a ten-year break from films to do stage in 1923), makes for a quirky figure among the others, doting but offbeat in all the right ways. Pallette was a noted character presence for hundreds of films in three decades, and he certainly engages well as the straight man to everybody with that distinct voice and timing. The sequence in the first half where Powell is subjected to questions as the "forgotten man" that are closed with him making fun of then is probably the most interesting moment of the film in bite, although there are quite a few more things one could highlight (such as the first scene with him with Pallette and the others together). It has a capable energy to its screwy elements that for the most part sticks the landing by the time it reaches the inevitable closing. The weird status in the public domain (where the film copyright accidentally was left to lapse but the book copyright did not) might make it a useful curiosity to seek out as well, and one will surely be rewarded by what they see here. La Cava and company made a fine film with enough amusement that serves well for itself 85 years later.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Henry V (1944).

Mr. Thank-You.

Review #1772: Mr. Thank-You.

Cast: 

Ken Uehara (Arigatô-san), Michiko Kuwano (Woman in black collar), Mayumi Tsukiji (Girl being sold), Kaoru Futaba (Girl's mother), Setsuko Shinobu (Daughter of man who returned from Tokyo), Ryuji Ishiyama (Gentleman with beard), with Einosuke Naka (Peddler), with Reikichi Kawamura (Villager from Tokyo), Kazuji Sakai (Peddler), and Nagamasa Yamada (Peddler) Written and Directed by Hiroshi Shimizu.

Review: 

If you think about it, making a movie about a trip through the mountains with a bus driver and his passengers does seem quite ripe for curiosity. And for director Hiroshi Shimizu, it is exactly the kind of movie to introduce him into the curiousity of folks invested in sharpening their senses of world cinema, one who either made films known for their portrayal of children (he also founded an orphanage) or in the outsider among society in Japan. He attended college but did not graduate, instead moving on to the Shochiku studio in Tokyo, Japan to work as an assistant director. He then made his debut as director in 1924 and proceeded to direct over a hundred films in the span of 35 years before he died in 1966 at the age of 63. This is one of his most noted features, if only because only a handful of his films have managed to have a release in home video (at least on an easy to state scale, such as the Criterion Collection), although it could be possible to find features if one lurks on the Internet (of course, numerous films of his are lost, as is the case with a handful of films from that era in Japan); it is his contemporary (and friend) Yasujiro Ozu that had recieved more attention in terms of craftsman directors (Ozu however was once quoted as saying he couldn't shoot films like him). The movie is adapted from a 1925 short story Arigato [Thank You] by Yasunari Kawabata (one of 146 short stories that were included in a collection named the Palm-of-the-Hand Stories, which were eventually published all together after his death in 1972); you may recognize Kawabata from his writing contribution (alongside three others) for Teinosuke Kinugasa's A Page of Madness (1926) The novelist and short story writer was the first Japanese author to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, having been awarded the prize in 1968.

One might not recognize the names present for a film with characters that don't have too many particular attributes (such as names, for example), but it doesn't make the overall result any less curious or inviting when it comes to a look inside people trying to maintain themselves within the challenges they live in while it moves from Izu to Tokyo. Shimizu liked to make practical films on location (with either amateur actors or not). Uehara and Kuwano are the most noted presences among the actors, and Uehara ended up with over 150 roles to his name while Kuwano tragically died at the age of 31 in 1946. Uehara does pretty well with the lead role, gentle and engaging despite spending most of his time seated (while having a portion of his lines being "Arigato!", obviously) while Kuwano leads the group of travelers in snappy charm that lends to a handful of interesting moments (such as smoking on the bus or making light of the quirks in an opinionated mustached man).

For a film made in the Great Depression, it proves quite adept in sobering interest that might rival features abroad in that same era, if only because Shimizu knows where to go with crafting interesting moments that don't overstay their welcome. You'll see a sequence involving a road crew or an improvised song and come out of it interested further in what the director likes to say about the varying roles people have to say when in company. The others do well with their moments needed, such as a family on their way to a distressing transaction (in a film full of moments talking about the reality of scraping for money) or with small amusing bits within a comedy-drama. It takes its time and relishes each second of what it means to make meaningful drama with bystanders that doesn't feel static or dated. The film also doesn't just end in the traditional manner either, since it essentially ends where it starts in another bus ride (the return trip), although the resolution of its one tying thread of plot is clear without being overly defined.  For a 76 minute film, it is quite easy to recommend this feature, one that definitely stands as a useful feature to start with in the career of Shimizu along with films from that era and time.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars

Reefer Madness.

Review #1760: Reefer Madness.

Cast: 
Dorothy Short (Mary Lane), Kenneth Craig (Bill Harper), Lillian Miles (Blanche), Dave O'Brien (Ralph Wiley), Thelma White (Mae Coleman), Carleton Young (Jack Perry), Warren McCollum (Jimmy Lane), Pat Royale (Agnes), Josef Forte (Dr. Alfred Carroll), and Harry Harvey Jr. (Junior Harper) Directed by Louis J. Gasnier.

Review: 
Sure, it doesn't take much to say that a person who has or hasn't used certain substances will have nearly the same view on a film like this. But it helps to know exactly what one is getting into before dozing in on a film like this, which has been colorized and even turned into a stage musical. The film was done apparently as church effort in the mid-1930s with the help of producer George Hirliman. Of course, Dwain Esper soon took over after it had been shot and added "certain" shots to add for the exploitation circuit, which is where the various titles come from that range from "The Burning Question" to "Doped Youth" (the title card will also say it was formely known as "Tell Your Children", so there's that). At any rate, the director for the film wasn't exactly a novice - Louis J. Gasnier (a collaborator on various poverty row films with Hirliman). The Frenchman started work in the film industry at the turn of the 20th century, directing various shorts until he moved to the States in 1910. He is best known for finding the comedian Max Linder along with directing The Perils of Pauline (1914), a popular film serial of its day (along with being one of his few silent films that survive). He was near the end of his directing career (nearing the age of 65, although he did dabble in acting to keep with the bills until his death). The film was written by Arthur Hoerl, who might have been inspired by an actual mass murder spree that was construed as being done by someone under the influence of marijuana (rather than the actual cause, which involved mental illness). 

Of course, the film did not find a second wind of cult popularity until 1972 (helps when there is no copyright notice), since activists like Keith Stroup and a movie distributor (Robert Shaye) found it something worth showing on college campuses...for a laugh. The problem with looking back to the past is that sometimes you get some really boring experiences when it comes to stuff of their time. I'm sure you've seen at least one "morality tale", and I would hope that they actually told you something meaningful, unlike with this film. Hell, if you pay attention to the film, one of the folks who actually "takes the stuff" gets away with a crime. Besides, you don't need me to tell you that taking substances doesn't work the way you see it on the screen, because you can learn that by asking a friend (of course in the absence of that, figure it out). The exploitation folks wanted to make, well, exploitation, so they did it under the guise of "education". The hyperbole isn't hard to see, even if one was drunk on their own supply. Seeing "swell" folks turn into madcap nutters in paranoia, albeit with a few little scenes of stock footage (i.e. newsreel). Honestly, the only interesting presence might be from O'Brien, in the whole "going nuts" thing, although Forte and his droning sequences about the dangers of drugs with "or yours...or yours!" could probably be funnier if one pretends he in fact was on drugs himself. But hey, you'll see "education" at hand with folks running over pedestrians while high, frantic piano playing, and various mild things. As a whole, an hour is a terrible thing to waste unless you are in the mood for it, particularly for a public domain feature that should be spent with actual curiosities, not movies with bland flavor that just happens to have an absurd idea or two trying to poke around the surface. Laugh at it, sure, but taking an actual substance might actually prove more rewarding than utilizing time on a turkey like this.

Overall, I give it 3 out of 10 stars.

Turkey Week Two begins. Like I said, the old-fashioned turkeys are sometimes the best ones to start with before getting to the modern stuff...but the next one involves a familiar face. 

Next Time: Jail Bait (1954).

Pigskin Parade.

Review #1345: Pigskin Parade.

Cast: 
Stuart Erwin (Amos), Jack Haley (Slug), Patsy Kelly (Bessie), Arline Judge (Sally), Grady Sutton (Mortimer), Fred Kohler, Jr. (Biff), Johnny Downs (Chip), Tony Martin (Tommy), Dixie Dunbar (Ginger Jones), Betty Grable (Laura), Judy Garland (Sairy), Si Jenks (Baggage Master), and the Yacht Club Boys. Directed by David Butler (#1334 - Just Imagine and #1342 - Bright Eyes)

Review: 
It always seems the lightest entertainment can provide the best debut for a star, no matter how big or small the role is. This was the feature film debut of Judy Garland, a thirteen year old singer and actor who was born to vaudevillian parents and toured with her sisters (under her original name of Gumm at first) before being discovered and soon brought to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. While she would spend 15 years with the company, her debut would be with newly merged 20th Century Fox in this film. MGM didn't know what to do with her at first, so they loaned her to Fox for a few weeks, with her role being a small but notable one, having two songs to herself to sing.

Who better to make a light mix of comedy and song than David Butler. He was the son of an actress and a stage director, and he soon found his way into acting starting in 1910, appearing in various parts directed by people such as John Ford and D.W. Griffith. He made his directorial debut with The High School Hero (1927), and he directed films in five different decades for multiple studios with numerous stars, ranging from Doris Day to Shirley Temple to Walter Brennan, with the latter two being honored by the Academy with awards for acting in a Butler film. This is an ensamble piece, filled with a slim plot that goes by the numbers you can see coming right away (take one guess about if this team will lose to Yale), but there is a charm to it that makes things roll comfortably without seeming dopey. It's a humble movie, full of actors who mostly were just known for small roles or b-movie films (with Garland, Haley, and Grable being exceptions), but they zip the film along through 93 minutes with moderate zingers and decent production value. The songs aren't really anything grandly memorable, but the actors (more so for Garland) sing them adequately enough. Highlights include a fair turn for Erwin (garnering a surprising Oscar nod) as a barefoot college football star, Haley and Kelly as a couple with a few biting wisecracks on and off the field, and a charming Garland (whether singing or not) whenever on screen.  One knows there are better football films or better musical comedies out there than this, but one can't go wrong with a movie like this when it comes to achieving quality escapist entertainment without being too empty inside, serving with a fair cast and fair direction to make an equally fair time. Average isn't a bad place to be with a film like this.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Great Ziegfeld.

Review #1344: The Great Ziegfeld.

Cast: 
William Powell (Florenz Ziegfeld Jr.), Myrna Loy (Billie Burke), Luise Rainer (Anna Held), Frank Morgan (Billings), Fannie Brice (Herself), Virginia Bruce (Audrey Dane), Reginald Owen (Sampson), Ray Bolger (Himself), Ernest Cossart (Sidney), Mae Questel (Rosie), Joseph Cawthorne (Dr. Ziegfeld), Nat Pendleton (Sandow), Harriet Hoctor (Herself), Jean Chatburn (Mary Lou), and Paul Irving (Erlanger) Directed by Robert Z. Leonard.

Review: 
I did not foresee a thousand word review that took longer to write than it did to get through the film. And yet, here we are.

One needs a bit of history now and then. Or at the very least needs a big show to really drive up attention. This is a film based on the life of Florenz Ziegfeld Jr and his Ziegfeld Follies, which made numerous productions from 1907 to 1931 (with two further revivals after Ziegfeld's death). There were numerous entertainers that appeared in the show over the years, ranging from W. C. Fields to Will Rogers to Louise Brooks to Fanny Brice. Who else to deliver a film with elaborate costumes, dances and sets but Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, with the most notable set being for the set for "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody", which spent roughly $220,000 on a 100 ton, 175 spiral stepped towering rotating volute. The music for the film was done by Walter Donaldson, Irving Berlin, and lyricist Harold Adamson, while Seymour Felix did the dance direction, and William Anthony McGuire wrote the film. I suppose it shouldn't have proved a surprise that this won the Academy Award for Best Picture. It happened to be one of the highest grossing films of the year, right next to another fellow MGM Best Picture nominee with San Francisco. Of course it also shouldn't be surprising that this is a tremendous long spectacle, running 176 minutes (185 for roadshows). One expects a veteran director to serve as a reliable hand for a big production, which is the case with Robert Z. Leonard. He had studied law at the University of Colorado before moving to Hollywood to start his film career acting in various short subjects in 1908. Five years later, he would take up directing the subjects to go alongside his career. It was not long before he got into directing feature-length films, starting with the mostly lost serial The Master Key (1914). In his five decade career, he directed two films nominated for Best Picture and Best Director (this and The Divorcee from 1930). He is known for his association with MGM, where he made most of his features for (starting with their predecessor Metro Pictures) from Peacock Alley (1922) to The King's Thief (1955).

One thing that is easy for me to say is that I don't know too much about the life of Florenz Ziegfeld Jr. After this film, I still don't think I really know much about the man that seems substantial. Even his death is wrongly depicted, as if him dying of pleurisy in Hollywood didn't seem impactful enough to depict for film. It all seems carefree, where the ups and downs seem more catered for its audience to escape with than something that presents anything other than bloated lavishness. In trying to cover all the bases of production value, it soon becomes a hollow experience that seems dated more than anything, although I suppose big-budget effects extravaganzas have some sort of link with this film in attempts at trying to hide hollow plots with some sort of flash. One seems to feel the passage of time of this film like it is taking 30 years rather than three hours. Powell does seem like the man for a role like this, having risen from heel roles in his early years since starting a career in Hollywood in 1922 to leading man roles, most notably with The Thin Man (1934). He starred in five further films in that series, each with Myrna Loy (they appeared in 14 total features together). He received three nominations for Best Actor (1934, 1936, 1947), and although he never won an Oscar, he cultivated a 33-year career with class and charm. I like seeing him here, even if he is playing a role that begs to have at least one flaw show itself on screen. He seems like a nice rogue, but he almost seems lost in a sea of pep and convenience. Loy has the disadvantage of time, since she doesn't show up until over two hours in. In that sense, she pulls off an okay performance playing a living actress (after Ziegfeld's death, she had sold off the film rights to try and pay off his debts and subsequently worked as technical consultant for this film), where one will say it has some stature but not too much else. Rainer (who aspired to be an actress at 16) was in her fifth role in film, having moved from the theatre to film after seeing A Farewell to Arms (1932), describing it as "beautiful". She moved from her native Germany to Hollywood three years later, signing with MGM, with her first American feature being Escapade, which also happened to have Powell and Leonard. She had a peak like no other actress, being the first actress to win back-to-back Academy Awards (Spencer Tracy would do the same for actors for 1937 and 1938), having won for this and The Good Earth (1937). She made fifteen film appearances in her career, owing to the pressure in living up to audience expectations along with dissatisfaction with MGM head Louis B. Meyer with getting roles she found to her liking (as opposed to the other way around). The one highlight scene for Ranier is the phone sequence, a heartbreaker that likely gave her the edge in winning an Academy Award for Best Actress. She does fine with delivering vulnerability, but the film's melodramatic approach does tend to make some of her scenes a bit over-the-top. The others prove hit and miss. Morgan and Brice deliver a bit of levity, but the rest seem to get a bit lost in the shuffle.

There would be further ventures with the Ziegfeld name by MGM, who released Ziegfeld Girl (1941, also directed by Leonard), and Ziegfeld Follies (1946, directed by Vincente Minnelli), which was composed of musical numbers and sketches. At the end of the day, this could prove a curiosity, for either the right or wrong reasons. One could hold up the musical pieces and its designs with some respect, alongside its boundless optimism in the face of marginalizing some of the facts. Or perhaps one could find it to be an overlong affair that can't quite satisfy in every department that creaks with age. I wish I liked this better than I did, because there is some entertainment value present in the film. Its a film that aspires to be the cream of the crop and instead seems to have a bit too much sugariness to really get there and stay on top. 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Modern Times.

Review #820: Modern Times.

Cast
Charlie Chaplin (A Factory Worker), Paulette Goddard (Ellen Peterson, The Gamin), Henry Bergman (Café Proprietor), Tiny Sandford (Big Bill), Chester Conklin (A Mechanic), Al Ernest Garcia (President of the Electro Steel Corp), Stanley Blystone (Gamin's Father), and Richard Alexander (Prison Cellmate) Directed by Charlie Chaplin (#353 - Monsieur Verdoux, #599 - The Kid, #600 - City Lights, #759 - The Gold Rush, and #775 - Shoulder Arms)

Review
This was the first movie Chaplin did with dialogue and sound effects, though it is only used prominently for scenes at the factory, with his character remaining silent, save for one song (sung entirely in gibberish) at the end of the film, with inter titles used throughout the movie, at a time when sound films had become the norm. The Little Tramp (the character that Chaplin played in a good deal of his films, though it wasn't usually listed as such in the credits) had a charm that Chaplin felt would be lost if the character ever spoke on screen. From this point on, his films would be in sound, sans the Tramp. As for this movie, Chaplin once again excels at his own brand of slapstick comedy, with the drama aspects (with regards to the time this was made) being balanced well enough to make for a really influential movie that still fits even 80 years later. Chaplin always managed to make his character an easy one to root for, while still being easy to have a laugh for the things he gets into, such as when he tries to keep up with an assembly line, with hilarious results. Watching him on screen is always a treat, and the supporting cast is excellent, with Chaplin and Goddard having good chemistry together; Garcia and Bergman (two regulars of Chaplin films) are also pretty good highlights. The themes of the movie (namely the rise of the industrialization in a modern world) are weaved in excellently, managing to be told alongside the comedy without any troubles. I can't tell which Chaplin film (of the six featured on Movie Night) is the best at this moment, but Modern Times is certainly another Chaplin film that is perfectly handled with a dynamic that he did excellently. The movie ends with an uncertain future for the two characters, but there is at least a gleam of hope, even in what seems to be the most hopeless of times.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: Things to Come.

Review #449: Things to Come.

Cast
Raymond Massey (John Cabal/Oswald Cabal), Edward Chapman (Pippa Passworthy/Raymond Passworthy), Ralph Richardson (Rudolf), Margaretta Scott (Roxana Black/Rowena Cabal), Cedric Hardwicke (Theotocopulos), and Maurice Braddell (Edward Harding) Directed by William Cameron Menzies (#448 - Invaders from Mars)

Review
H. G. Wells devised the plot and dialogue for the film which was adapted from his own novel, The Shape of Things to Come, though apparently scenes were shortened for censors, and learning that he wanted the music to be recorded in response and have the film made around the music is both an intriguing idea and odd at the same time, for 1936 at least. But enough about Wells, there's the film itself, and how it is on the whole, and it's...not too bad. Somewhat dated but never too dull, the actors do alright and the highlight of the film is undoubtedly the effects which have been compared to Art Deco, which isn't a bad thing. The directing by Menzies (Who I just talked about in the last review...) is not too shabby for a film like this. For the time this was made it feels like foreboding, and while this isn't as great as it could have been, it's at least watchable and one of those films that shouldn't be remade, which in the world we live, is an achievement, I suppose. There's just one more film to get to in this countdown. Countdown to 450 Reviews: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

And now, the 450th Review (which will be posted tomorrow night) will be...

Movie Night: Dracula's Daughter.

Review #297: Dracula's Daughter.

Cast
Otto Kruger (Dr. Jeffrey Garth), Gloria Holden (Marya Zaleska), Marguerite Churchill (Janet), Edward Van Sloan (Van Helsing), Gilbert Emery (Basil Humphrey), Irving Pichel (Sandor), Halliwell Hobbes (Hawkins), Billy Bevan (Albert), and Nan Grey (Lili) Directed by Lambert Hillyer.

Review
This is one of those "Wait, there was a sequel to this?" kind of film, having been a sequel of Dracula (#71), released 5 years it, with no Lugosi (Except one wax model of him), but Van Sloan is back as Van Helsing (misspelled as Von Helsing, but whatever), which is a plus. The acting is ranges from good to okay, depending on the actor/actress. Kruger and Holden do a good job, along with Van Sloan, as he was back in Dracula. Churchill is okay, but not much else other then a small annoyance. The rest of the actors are all alright, doing a standard yet useful job. There are a few scares, but not as chilling as the first one or as mysterious. It is slightly original, not really based off any novels (Okay it was actually based off a short story, but it apparently didn't take any of the story's plot), but it is short enough to run a suddenly short length of 71 minutes. In the end, while the film does have some good moments that might work, it is slightly bogged down by sluggish pace at times and a weird pace of story. Not bad, but not great either. Countdown to 300 Reviews: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3...

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: San Francisco.

Review #231: San Francisco.

Cast
Clark Gable (Blackie Norton), Jeanette MacDonald (Mary Blake), Spencer Tracy (Father Tim Mullin), Jack Holt (Jack Burley), Jessie Ralph (Mrs. Burley), Ted Healy (Mat), Shirley Ross (Trixie), Margaret Irving (Della Bailey), Harold Huber (Babe), and Edgar Kennedy (Sheriff) Directed by W. S. Van Dyke.

Review
To begin with, the film is based on the 1906 earthquake of San Francisco. In the long run, the film is a grand spectacle. The cast does a great job, especially at the end, with the despair and misery captured well given the circumstances of the situation. Lastly, the film recreates the earthquake in the last few minutes, and it looks beautiful even to this day. All in all, this film still has entertainment value, that while being a bit dated and slow at times, still holds up after over 70 years.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.