My Little Chickadee.

Review #2530: My Little Chickadee.

Cast: 

Mae West (Flower Belle Lee), W. C. Fields (Cuthbert J. Twillie), Joseph Calleia (Jeff Badger/Masked Bandit), Dick Foran (Wayne Carter), Margaret Hamilton (Mrs. Gideon), Donald Meek (Amos Budge), Ruth Donnelly (Aunt Lou), Willard Robertson (Uncle John), Fuzzy Knight (Cousin Zeb), George Moran (Milton), Anne Nagel (Miss Foster), and William B. Davidson (Sheriff) Directed by Edward F. Cline (#877 - Three Ages, #1354 - The Bank Dick, #2483 - You Can't Cheat an Honest Man)

Review: 

What better way to go through another W. C. Fields movie than one with a bit of a twist? Apparently, one impetus for the film was the relative popularity of 1939's Destry Rides Again, otherwise known as the Western comedy with Marlene Dietrich and James Stewart that happened to deal with a new sheriff in town. Obviously why not go to the wheelbarrow and pair Fields, who had been in the moderately interesting You Can't Cheat an Honest Man the previous year...with West, who was looking for a comeback after her association with Paramount Pictures ended (you might remember that her sexually suggestive humor was made harder with growing censorship) with Every Day's a Holiday (1937). West claimed in later times that she wrote the majority of the film, while Fields was behind the bar scene and select parts of the dialogue, as one does when favoring ad-libbing. Used to being the big stars, they did not warm up to each other and West apparently never wanted to talk to or talk about Fields again. Naturally, there were still lines cut from the final release due, to, well, censors (hey, if you think people sound weird about sex or people, consider the dorks of yesteryear). This was the third of five movies that Fields made with Cline, with the others being Million Dollar Legs (1932), the aforementioned Honest Man, The Bank Dick (made and released the same year), and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941). The movie was a fairly decent hit with audiences. As for West, her next film came with The Heat's On (1943) for Columbia Pictures, which went so well that she promptly didn't make a film again until Myra Breckinridge (1970), instead focusing her time with nightclubs, stage shows, and Broadway revivals* for years on end. 

It is the type of movie that looks great.... on paper. It merrily moves along for 84 minutes with a few good jokes and some interesting ideas of playing around with the Western with a goofy sheriff stumbling onto the scene. And then you realize, good god, this really did need just one big star and not two. Either focus on the zippy charm of West (remember that she was in her late forties doing this film and be astonished) or go along with the flim-flam world of Fields and his type of lines, because it basically feels like an episodic movie in search of more. You get your moments in the bar and with Fields yammering the huckster line, don't get that twisted. The sequence where West holds her own during a Native American attack* (done right before the "marriage" scene) certainly gives off more of an impression than most of what Fields does here, where he isn't even present during a schooling sequence involving shaping the lads up (that goes to West, as one does). Even the love triangle between West, Calleia, and Foran doesn't have the tinge of fire that you might hope for in generating anything other than a casual laugh in the circumstances that West glides along to (i.e. not caring about what one might think and moving to the beat of her own drum). At least folks like Hamilton feel right at home in busybody silliness. By the time the movie lumbers to its conclusion, you almost wish the movie had actually started right where it ended in seeing what life might be for West in the "maybe I'll choose today or tomorrow" phase with men and a town like this. As a whole, even a movie that probably does not live up to all of the potential that you would think would come from such a neat pair up is still a good enough movie to go along with, regardless of how many films you've circled around with Fields or West.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*And then there was Sextette (1978), the one loosely based on her own play that saw West, now in her eighties, play a sex symbol with an ensemble cast. She died in 1980 at the age of 87.

*The tiniest bit of gripes not exactly related to the movie. I never understood the discourse about how to refer to Native Americans past, say, the year 1980. What the hell is the argument to call them Indians when there are people from India? I know about the "Indigenous" word but, you know, no.

Stagecoach (1939).

Review #1349: Stagecoach.

Cast: 
Claire Trevor (Dallas), John Wayne (Ringo Kid), Andy Devine (Buck), John Carradine (Hatfield), Thomas Mitchell (Doc Boone), Louise Platt (Lucy Mallory), George Bancroft (Marshal Curley Wilcox), Donald Meek (Samuel Peacock), Berton Churchill (Henry Gatewood), and Tim Holt (Lieutenant Blanchard) Directed by John Ford (#398 - The Last Hurrah and #1324 - 3 Bad Men)

Review: 
When the right actors and directors are in place to tell a tale of the Old West, it can make for great entertainment. In the early parts of the 20th century, there were plenty of Western films to go around, whether made with a bit of ambition in budget or made on the cheap. John Wayne served as star to several films of the latter category for a majority of the 1930s, most notably with Poverty Row company Monogram Pictures (although there were films he made with the bigger studios, albeit as B-pictures). Although one recognizes his good performance from his feature starring debut in The Big Trail (1930) now, it was considered a financial flop at the time, which did not help his career. But one man knew he had some promise. Who better to exude such confidence than John Ford? For his first Western in thirteen years, Ford tried to attract interest from the major studios to make his film the way he wanted, but it was Selznick International Pictures (founded by noted producer David O. Selznick) that found itself attracted to it more than the majors. Of course, Selznick wanted big name stars to headline the film like Gary Cooper or Marlene Dietrich as opposed to Wayne, but Ford stood firm and eventually found his producer in Walter Wanger with United Artists, albeit with a budget of just $500,000. The film is an adaptation of Ernest Haycox's 1937 short story "The Stage to Lordsburg", done so by Dudley Nichols, who had won an Academy Award for his screenplay in a previous collaboration with Ford earlier with The Informer (1935). A film like this would not come easy - for the director nor its stars. Ford was a man who liked to keep his actors on their toes, describing Devine at one point as a "big tub of lard" and Wayne as a "big oaf". Of course Devine provides a well-done performance (complete with his riding of six horses, which helped him get the part) and Wayne is the everyman that all should look up to, with Ford being the guide in challenging his actors to new heights. Of course one cannot forget Monument Valley, a region on the Arizona-Utah border with plenty of sandstone buttes to behold. Ford loved the place so much that he would return to use it for several films in the following decades, with its wide open spaces blending in with the studio-filmed coach sequences and the backlot usage for the town parts. One who should not be forgotten for their contributions is stuntman Yakima Canutt. The first is his help in suggestions when it came to trying to pull off a sequence with the stagecoach floating across a river with passengers in it (his solution? hollow logs tied to the coach). The second is his stunt-work with the memorable attack of the stagecoach by the natives, in which he rode full speed alongside the coach on a horse, with the most notable stunt being him falling between two lead horses before hanging from the rig before letting go to allow for the horses and the stagecoach to pass over him. Of course the way they handled the horses for filming during said sequence is not as astonishing, as they used a "Running W" device that essentially circled the legs of a horse with an iron clamp and strong wires for when they needed a horse to tumble after its rider was "shot" (with the obvious result being an effective trick but plenty of injured horses). The attitude towards Native Americans that this film has (as is the case with numerous Westerns of the time) is certainly dated, but I am sure it will note adversely affect the general enjoyment of the film as a whole.

One cannot forget about the ensemble in all of this. It is a brilliantly assembled group, each of which being clearly defined in their presence that does not get lost in the shuffle of adventure. A group of eccentric but well definable (and therefore relatable) folks on a trip wracked with some sort of problem either internally or externally seems fairly familiar, but this is a well-executed one at that, moving with the rhythm of a horse on the move. One cares for this group of travelers during this 96 minute trail, and it all starts with Wayne and his memorable close-up entrance. He provides wonderful dignity in a manner that extends to his time spent with Trevor. They share careful chemistry with each other, rolling with the tension that comes with a journey without needing to resort to cliches of the heart, which goes well with the weary vulnerability she exudes. Devine provides squeaky charm of the best sort - you would be proud to have him around for a ride or a story. One cannot forget Carradine (who went from stage company to 300-film company in a six decade career) and his sleek gambler nature that aligns with Platt in contrast quite well. Mitchell (in an Oscar-winning turn) provides warmth and eccentric nature through the wise drunk man routine that pays off in spades for each moment. Bancroft provides grit with authority that is to be expected to the ends the film needs to go to, while Platt, Meek and Churchill each provide distinct qualities that make them seem more than just in the background, wrapped in either dignity, meekness, or prejudice. By the time the film gets to its sequence involving the chase of the stagecoach through dangerous territory, one has found themselves never really wanting the trail to find its end, riveted at what they see go on with a crew at the top of their game for the perfect time (this of course did not stop someone from remaking it in 1966). The build-up to the final showdown is just as exquisite, magic in delivering tension without needing to show a big gun-fight to make an impact. Wayne became a star because of this film, and he would team up with Ford in several productions over the following three decades, most of which (but not all) being Westerns. 1939 was a great year for films, and this is one of those films, a legendary tale worth viewing to understand what one can do with an ensemble cast and a hard-nosed determined director at the helm to make history.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: Mark of the Vampire.

Review #470: Mark of the Vampire.

Cast
Lionel Barrymore (Professor Zelen), Elizabeth Allan (Irena Borotyn), Bela Lugosi (Count Mora), Lionel Atwill (Inspector Neumann), Jean Hersholt (Baron Otto von Zinden), Henry Wadsworth (Fedor Vincente), Donald Meek (Dr. J. Doskil), Ivan F. Simpson (Jan), Carroll Borland (Luna), and Franklyn Ardell (Chauffeur) Directed by Tod Browning (#071 - Dracula)

Review
Mark of the Vampire starts off well, though it is a bit of a surprise that this only runs 60 minutes, although apparently the studio cut 20 minutes out of the film, for reasons still not fully determined. The actors do a fine job, and Lugosi (Save for one scene at the end) does a great job because his menacing presence is different than how he was in Dracula: He resorts to walking around the sets, with makeup on the face, sometimes appearing out of nowhere, mostly accompanied by (accomplice?) another vampire, played by Carroll Borland, who reminds me of Wednesday Addams for some reason. The music is very effective, creepy and chilling. The sets look fine, and the film starts to gather steam around the 40 minute mark, when Barrymore (Who is never given a proper introduction scene, by the way) and the others are just about to go hunting for the vampire...And then come the last part of the film and the ending that derails it all. Whether you like twist endings or not, the ending...just seems like a big cop-out. To sum the ending (which I will color in black text, so just highlight the text if you want to know the ending) up is basically this:

To catch Baron Otto who apparently murdered Karell Borotyn, a Baron who died in the beginning, Zelen and Irena Borotyn, Karell's daughter hired actors to scare the Baron enough to get him hypnotized and get him to to do the murder to a look alike of the dead man, using a hot cup as a guise for the drained blood and a pincer for the marks on his neck. 

The ending shortchanges what was until up that point, the climax. Yes, I'm aware that this was a remake of an earlier film, London After Midnight (a 1927 lost film, one of the most sought after lost films), and I know it would've sounded cliche to have the vampires simply get eliminated, but the film still would've been very enjoyable nonetheless. The effects were nice, such as when Luna is shown arriving in the castle...with bat wings still on her. Browning does an okay job directing, but the film still could've been better. While it may cheat (or satisfy anyone liking twist endings) the audience, it's still a (mostly) decent film overall.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.