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.

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937).

Review #2013: The Prisoner of Zenda.

Cast: 

Ronald Colman (Major Rassendyll / King Rudolf V), Madeleine Carroll (Princess Flavia), Douglas Fairbanks Jr (Rupert of Hentzau), C. Aubrey Smith (Colonel Zapt), Raymond Massey (Duke Michael), Mary Astor (Antoinette de Mauban), and David Niven (Captain Fritz von Tarlenheim) Directed by John Cromwell (#1008 - The Racket, #1341 - Of Human Bondage, and #1348 - Algiers) 

Review:  

In 1894, a novel was published in the United Kingdom that was written by Anthony Hope, which was titled The Prisoner of Zenda. As one might expect, it has been adapted several times in the realm of stage, film, and radio, with the first adaptation being a play (as adapted by Edward Rose) that opened exactly one year after the novel was published. The silent era saw a handful of films (1913, 1915, 1922), with the most noted one being done by Rex Ingram. Evidently, there were plans to make a musical by MGM with Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy as star. However, it eventually fell into the hands of David O. Selznick and his studio, and he took notice of the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936 when it came to marketing. There were several writers credited with the writing: John L. Balderston wrote the screenplay while Wells Root wrote the adaptation, Donald Ogden Stewart provided additional dialogue, and un-credited work was done by Ben Hecht and Sidney Howard. John Cromwell, already in his forties when he went from stage performances as actor and Broadway directing to films in the late 1920s, was chosen by Selznick to direct (Cromwell had directed with various studios from Paramount to RKO to United Artists). However, W. S. Van Dyke was brought in to help with reshoots in fencing while George Cukor was recruited to shoot the renunciation scene because he apparently was felt to be good with directing women. Did you know that Hope wrote a follow-up novel to Zenda? Rupert of Hentzau was written the year after Zenda's publication but not seen until 1897 (there have been a few adaptations, but not nearly as many as Zenda, probably because that book ends with the death of the lead, albeit with fitting irony). Evidently, there were plans announced in 1947 to make a film adaptation by Selznick after the success of this film with Joseph Cotten set to star, but it did not come to pass (coincidentally, Selznick's father Lewis was the producer of the 1923 version of Rupert of Hentzau). A shot-for-shot remake of Prisoner of Zenda was done in 1952, with the next (and last) high-profile remake being a 1979 film with Peter Sellars as star. 

When it comes to classics, this one is a pretty easy one to spot. It has all of the pieces you would expect from a swashbuckler: a nifty setup, a few costuming choices, a villain almost as dashing as the hero, and various other methods of adventure. Colman gets to employ the use of tables and chairs to go along with swordplay when it comes to playing with fire in the adventure sense, which reflects well when playing a double role that has him also play a weakened would-be king. It is no surprise that Selznick waited until he secured Colman to get the ball rolling on the film, because he is the dashing presence required in such a film that would seem lacking with perhaps anybody else but him when it comes to glamour without having a sense of being aloof to the fray. Of course, this is also a romance, so the time spent with Carroll is crafted quite well, mostly because her newfound sense of affection for the face standing in front of her is compelling to view in elegance, which makes what occurs in the resolution all the more poignant. Fairbanks Jr, the son of that famed swashbuckler with whom he shared his name, was told by his father to take the part of Rupert when he was offered it over the double role because (in his words), it was "probably one of the best villains ever written". Fairbanks clearly had good advice for his son, because it is a compelling role. He gets to snidely whiplash his way through the action with clear enthusiasm for the material when it comes to being the real threat behind the throne (as opposed to Massey, who actually is pretty decent himself), and the fact that he glides through the final action sequence to parts unknown certainly makes it a memorable adversary to see all the way through. Smith (the lead actor in the London production of the play decades earlier) and Niven (cast right before his turn as a star) provide support to Colman in very mild relief. As a whole, you can see the professionalism displayed by Cromwell and company to make entertaining adventure roll off the pages that generally utilizes its 101-minute runtime for suitable pacing that makes most of the right moves to set a place among the classics to watch in eight-decade cinema of a fantasy that all can enjoy within kingdoms and the duality and duplicity of people.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The 39 Steps (1935).

Review #1343: The 39 Steps.

Cast: 
Robert Donat (Richard Hannay), Madeleine Carroll (Pamela), Lucie Mannheim (Annabella Schmidt), Godfrey Tearle (Professor Jordan), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret), John Laurie (John), Helen Haye (Mrs. Louisa Jordan), Frank Cellier (Sheriff Watson), and Wylie Watson (Mr. Memory) Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (#219 - Rope, #223 - North by Northwest, #446 - Spellbound, #447 - Psycho, #450 - Vertigo, #455 - Rear Window, #553 - Strangers on a Train, #800 - Shadow of a Doubt, #910 - Notorious, #963 - The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, #964 - The Ring (1927), #965 - Downhill, #970 - Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and #977 - Frenzy)

Review: 
"The chief requisite for an actor is the ability to do nothing well, which is by no means as easy as it sounds. He should be willing to be used and wholly integrated into the picture by the director and the camera. He must allow the camera to determine the proper emphasis and the most effective dramatic highlights."

One can never say enough about Alfred Hitchcock and the films he made throughout seven decades. He had started his work in film as a title card designer for Famous Players-Lasky in their London studio in 1920. He gained experience from this work before his next job with Gainsborough Pictures as an assistant director. He had worked on numerous short subjects (including an attempt deubt with the curtailed Number 13 in 1922) and films, most notably with Woman to Woman (1923), which he designed the set and wrote for. In 1925, he made his directorial debut with The Pleasure Garden, a flop that now only exists in the viewing markets as a bootleg. His breakthrough came with The Lodger in 1927, inspired by Expressionist techniques of Germany. After the success of The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) came this film, his 22nd of his career and sixth-to-last before his departure to Hollywood in 1939. This was an adaptation of the adventure serial (and subsequent publication as novel) The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan, which first came out in 1915. It was the first in what turned out to be a thriller series by Buchan, who wrote four further novels with its main character of Richard Hannay over the next 21 years. The novel has been adapted three times for film along with once for television, with several radio adaptations and even a theatrical production for the stage.Obviously there are a few liberties taken with the work, such as three newly created characters (both female leads along with the brief but important use of someone named "Mr. Memory" for the opening and climax) and even the explanation for the title (an organization in the film, actual steps in the book), but  Charles Bennett and Ian Hay generally followed the outline of the original work.

For such a prolific director, one can't forget to mention its solid cast. Donat had already made the transition from the English stage (done since 1921) to film in 1932. He made just 20 films before his death in 1958 (affected in part due to his chronic asthma), but he made the most of it, even winning an Academy Award for Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939). In any case, he does a tremendous job here, a confident performance in being swept up as the wrong man on the run (a common thing present in numerous Hitchcock films), a wise-cracker wise to carrying an 86 minute film with that stiff upper lip one should see coming from someone of his disposition, careful but dynamic, such as the scene where he needs to make a speech to introduce a candidate he knows nothing about. Carroll proves just as careful with the present scenario, where she is never too far from our mind (with quite a bit of time passing before she shows up after the train sequence), but she makes the most of it. If the two seem at home with panic when handcuffed together in a scene together, that was because Hitchcock had them handcuffed for a few hours (while pretending to have lost the key) to get them in the right sense of mind for such situation. In that sense, the two seem just right with chemistry, which you can see the relaxation as the film goes on. Mannheim shows up for only a few minutes, but she makes the most of it count. Tearle makes for a fine lurking presence, in that one doesn't need bellowing to make a conniving presence count but control. The rest prove fine for a film that has touches of humor to go alongside thrills to make for quite an interesting ride, going from scene to scene with no trouble, where the suspense comes to the viewer without needing to be spoonfed all at once. In the end, this is a wonderful film from Hitchcock in its execution of suspense, rolling itself with controlled ambition and a game cast that make for wonderful entertainment belonging on the level among Hitchcock's past and future prime efforts.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.