Ronald Ralph Schell was born on December 23, 1931, in Richmond,
California, to David and Marguerite Schell. His father worked as a stock checker
at an automobile industry plant and later worked for a naval supply center. His
mother was a waitress and saleswoman at Macy’s.
After graduating from Richmond High School, where he was reportedly a
class clown and frequently expelled, he served four years in the United States
Air Force, achieving the rank of airman first class before pursuing a career in
entertainment. In 1958, he graduated from San Francisco State College.
Schell first gained national attention with a memorable appearance on the
May 28, 1959, episode of You Bet Your Life, hosted by Groucho Marx.
During the program, Schell impressed audiences with a rapid-fire routine of
beatnik-inspired jive talk, showcasing the energetic comedic style that would
become his trademark.
Before becoming a familiar face on television, Schell developed his
stand-up act at the legendary hungry i in San Francisco, California, a renowned
launching pad for comedians during the late 1950s and early 1960s. His
association with the club placed him among a generation of performers who
helped define the era’s emerging nightclub comedy scene. He also introduced The
Kingston Trio at the beginning of their 1962 album College Concert,
serving as the opening act for the performance.
Schell reached the height of his early television fame when he joined the
cast of Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. as Private Duke Slater, Gomer Pyle’s best
friend and fellow Marine. His easygoing personality and comedic timing made
Slater one of the show’s most popular supporting characters.
Jim Nabors, Ronnie Schell and Frank Sutton, in Gomer Pyle U.S.M.C.
After three seasons, Schell left the series to star in his own sitcom, Good
Morning, World, playing disc jockey Dave Lewis alongside Goldie Hawn and
other television favorites. When that series ended, Schell returned to Gomer
Pyle, U.S.M.C. for its fifth and final season. During his return, his
character had been promoted to corporal and took on a more mature role as a
mediator between Gomer (played by Jim Nabors) and the demanding Sergeant Carter
(portrayed by Frank Sutton).
Schell married Janet Rodeberg in 1968, and the couple had two sons, Gregory
and Chris Schell.
Throughout his career, Schell became one of television’s most
recognizable character actors, appearing as a guest star on dozens of popular
programs, including The Andy Griffith Show, The Patty Duke Show, The Golden
Girls, The Love Boat, Happy Days, Sanford and Son, Emergency!, Mork &
Mindy, and Charlie’s Angels.
His longevity and steady presence in entertainment led to the
affectionate nickname “America’s Slowest Rising Comedian,” a playful
acknowledgment of his decades-long climb to success.
Beyond live-action television, Schell contributed his voice to several
animated projects. He portrayed Jason in Battle of the Planets and
provided the voice for the hockey puck-shaped character in Peter Puck, which
aired during televised NHL games in the 1970s.
Schell was also a familiar presence in commercials, including memorable
campaigns for Pacific Southwest Airlines and Shakey’s Pizza. His comedic
personality made him especially effective in advertising, where his warmth and
timing connected with audiences.
In later years, Schell continued performing. In 2007, he toured with the
cabaret production 5 Star Revue alongside Gary Collins, Mary Ann Mobley,
Ruta Lee, and Steve Rossi. He also starred in the 2009 Off-Broadway production Don’t
Leave It All to Your Children!, a comedy and musical revue celebrating the
experiences of aging baby boomers.
In 2019, Schell served as comedy advisor to Richard Dreyfuss for the
Netflix film The Last Laugh, continuing to share his expertise and
decades of experience in entertainment.
Schell passed away on June 12, 2026, at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center
in Los Angeles, California, at the age of 94 after being hospitalized for a
fall. He was the last surviving cast member of Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.
Today, there are
several points of relevance in relation to Schell’s life and career.
In 1940, his family
lived at 1009 Barrett Ave., Richmond, California. This home has since been
razed.
In 1950, he resided
at 345 S. Anita Ave., Los Angeles, California, which remains.
345 S. Anita Ave., Los Angeles, CA
He later resided at
4042 Sapphire Dr., Encino, California, which also stands. Schell was named an
honorary mayor of Encino.
4042 Sapphire Dr., Encino, CA
Schell also resided
at 11344 Chenault St., Los Angeles, California, which stands.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the “Hometowns to Hollywood” blog, in which she profiles her trips to the hometowns of classic Hollywood stars. She has also been featured on the popular classic film-oriented television network, Turner Classic Movies. A regular columnist for Classic Movie Hub, her articles have appeared in TCM Backlot, Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, The Dark Pages Film Noir Newsletter, and Chicago Art Deco Society Magazine.
Barbara Stanwyck is a favorite of many classic film fans,
myself included.
Over the years I’ve reviewed a few of her films here after
seeing them for the first time: The
Furies (1950), The
Violent Men (1955), and Forty
Guns (1957).
The Maverick Queen (1956)
One of the Stanwyck Westerns which had eluded me until now
was The Maverick Queen (1956), which had a VHS release but to my
knowledge has not come out on DVD in the United States.
The movie has turned up in the past on Turner Classic Movies,
but in a frankly poor print, so I’ve held off watching it, hoping for the day
when a better viewing experience would be possible. I’m happy to report that
day has now arrived thanks to Kino Lorber Studio Classics.
Stanwyck stars as Kit Bannion, owner of the Maverick Queen
saloon, who is mixed up with outlaws including Butch Cassidy (Howard Petrie)
and the Sundance Kid (Scott Brady). Her fortune has depended cattle rustling
and stealing.
Stanwyck’s Forty Guns costar, Barry Sullivan –
previously reviewed here in the terrific Audie Murphy film Seven
Ways From Sundown (1950) – plays a stranger in town, Jeff Young.
Kit, fending off Sundance’s threatening romantic claim, is
attracted to Jeff and hires him as a dealer.
She believes he’s Jeff Younger of the Younger gang of outlaws, but he
might not be exactly who he seems to be.
For instance, why did Jeff stop Sundance and a group of
outlaws from robbing the cattle herd owned by pretty Lucy Lee (Mary Murphy)
just before he arrived in town?
Jeff does join Butch and Sundance for a train robbery, which
leads to unexpected developments…
Those who associate Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
chiefly with the 1969 movie may be a bit surprised to see them turn up in a
‘50s Western, but of course they were based on real people and turned up in
films well ahead of 1969. In fact, I
stopped at Butch Cassidy’s boyhood home in Utah during a 2022 road trip. It was
about a half hour outside Marysvale, where I visited the final
resting place of actress Marie Windsor.
Butch Cassidy’s boyhood home in Utah
The Maverick Queen screenplay by Kenneth Gamet and DeVallon Scott was based on a Zane Grey novel, and it’s quite good. Ironically I had heard buzz over the years that The Maverick Queen was a weak film in Stanwyck’s career, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover I liked it very much.
I found The Maverick Queen better scripted and more
interesting than the typical “outlaws” film, which isn’t my favorite Western
subgenre. In fact, I would go so far as
to say I enjoyed it more than Stanwyck’s much better-known and highly regarded The
Furies. I’m not saying The Maverick Queen is a better film, but I
had more fun watching it.
No, The Maverick Queen isn’t a classic, but it does
fall in the category many of us call a “darn good Western.” It has a good story, is well cast, and was
energetically directed by Joe Kane, who also produced; it runs a well-paced 92
minutes.
Perhaps most importantly the film features extensive
location shooting in Colorado, which really makes the movie; it’s beautiful to
look at.
The movie was filmed by Jack Marta in Republic Pictures’
color and widescreen processes, Trucolor and Naturama. The movie has thus
looked terrible in many faded pan-and-scan prints. Kino Lorber presents a 4K
scan of the original 35mm camera negative, and it looks fantastic.
Scott Brady, Barbara Stanwyck, Barry Sullivan
Red-haired Stanwyck plays a woman who has succeeded in a
man’s world by attaching herself to criminal enterprises. Though Stanwyck famously played at least one
more villainous character in her career, there’s very little admirable about
Kit, so it seems likely from the outset that her feelings for Jeff are doomed.
Barry Sullivan, Barbara Stanwyck
Stanwyck’s character may be a crook but the actress is, of
course, always highly watchable, and unsurprisingly she makes the part
interesting and somewhat sympathetic.
The theme of Kit making her way in the world on the wrong
side of the law contrasts nicely with Murphy’s young cattlewoman Lucy, who is
working to make a go of her late father’s ranch; life is also challenging for her,
but she is making far different choices from Kit’s and ultimately will likely
succeed in both business and life because of it.
Mary Murphy, Barry Sullivan, Barbara Stanwyck
Murphy, incidentally, was in one of my favorite Westerns,
A Man Alone (1955), which I wrote about in a column on “Unexpected
Western Leads.” She was something of a chameleon, in terms of her physical
appearance, and looks rather different in each film despite the fact they were
released only a year apart.
I admit to having a bit of a crush on Sullivan, who is very
appealing here as the mysterious stranger in town. Although his motivations aren’t initially
clear, I shared Lucy’s faith that there must be an explanation for his
inexplicable behavior.
Barbara Stanwyck, Barry Sullivan
Brady, who impresses here as a rugged, vicious Sundance,
played the similarly named but more handsome “Dancin’ Kid” in Johnny Guitar
(1954). You don’t want to mess with his
Sundance; Brady’s fierce portrayal conjures mental associations with his
real-life scarier brother, Lawrence Tierney.
Scott Brady
The rest of the cast is top-notch, starting with Jim Davis,
whose character’s brief appearance quite late in the film is inconvenient for
Jeff, to say the least.
Wallace Ford plays Lucy’s ornery cook, who proves to be not
what he seems, and the cast is rounded out with familiar faces such as Emile
Meyer, Walter Sande, John Doucette, Pierre Watkin, Taylor Holmes, and Tristram
Coffin.
Mary Murphy, Scott Brady, Wallace Ford
The film’s musical score was by the great Victor Young, who
very sadly died shortly after this film’s release. The title song is sung by Joni James.
Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray extras consist of a commentary track by
Dwayne Epstein plus a gallery of five trailers for other films available from
Kino Lorber.
Barbara Stanwyck, Barry Sullivan
I found The Maverick Queen to be a pleasantly entertaining surprise, and I doubt it will ever look better than on this Blu-ray release, which I recommend.
The color Utah photographs accompanying this article are from the author’s personal collection.
Thanks to Kino Lorber for providing a review copy of this Blu-ray.
…
– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.
James Thurston Nabors was born on
June 12, 1930, in Sylacauga, Alabama, the son of Fred Nabors, a police officer,
and Mavis Pearl Newman Nabors. He was raised in the small central Alabama
community alongside two older sisters: Freddie Mae and Annie Ruth. As a child,
Nabors suffered from severe asthma, a condition that would exempt him from
military service during the Korean War.
Nabors attended Sylacauga High
School, where he was active on in the glee club, played clarinet in the school
band, and was also on the football team. After graduating high school in 1947,
Jim Nabors studied went on to study business administration at the University
of Alabama. He graduated with a bachelor’s degree in 1952. During his time at
the university, he was a member of the Delta Tau Delta fraternity and acted in
Greek skit shows.
Nabors
soon relocated to Los Angeles in pursuit of opportunities in entertainment. He
continued to work as a film cutter there but also found work at a Santa Monica
nightclub known as The Horn. There, he developed a comedic routine featuring a
shy, simple-minded gas station attendant with a distinctive Southern drawl.
Comedian Bill Dana invited Nabors to sign on The Steve Allen Show but it
was ultimately canceled. One evening,
actor Andy Griffith happened to see the performance. Griffith immediately
recognized the appeal of Nabors’ character and invited him to appear on The
Andy Griffith Show. What began as a single guest appearance in 1962 quickly
evolved into one of the series’ most popular recurring roles.
Gomer Pyle
On
the show, Nabors portrayed Gomer Pyle. His sincerity, optimism, and unwavering
politeness resonated with viewers. Moreover, his voice was showcase on the show
for the first tie in the February 1964 episode, “The Song Festers.” Unlike many
television characters built around sarcasm or conflict, Gomer won audiences
over through kindness and innocence. His popularity soon warranted a series of
his own.
Nabors launched an extraordinarily successful
recording career. Over the next several decades, he released dozens of albums
that regularly appeared on the Billboard charts. His recordings frequently
featured inspirational music, Christmas collections, love songs, and standards
from the Great American Songbook. His vocal ability also made him a popular
guest on television variety programs, where he appeared alongside many of the
era’s leading entertainers.
In 1964, CBS premiered Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.,
placing the lovable service station attendant into the disciplined environment
of the United States Marine Corps. Much of the comedy centered on Gomer’s
interactions with the perpetually frustrated Sergeant Vince Carter, portrayed
by Frank Sutton. While Nabors could be heard singing in many of the show’s
episodes, his milestone vocal performance on the show was his rendition of “The
Impossible Dream (The Quest).” Although the series relied on familiar comedic
misunderstandings, it also presented military life with affection and respect.
Marine officials generally welcomed the positive portrayal, and many Marines
later credited the show with boosting public appreciation for the Corps during
a turbulent decade.
The sitcom became one of television’s highest-rated
comedies, remaining on the air for five seasons and concluding in 1969 while
still attracting a large audience. Rather than allowing the series to decline,
Nabors chose to end the show and pursue other opportunities.
Following
the conclusion of Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., Nabors remained a familiar face
on American television. He headlined The Jim Nabors Hour, a variety
series that combined musical performances, comedy sketches, and appearances by
guest stars. The program lasted only two seasons.
Throughout
the 1970s and 1980s, Nabors continued appearing on numerous television
specials, talk shows, and variety programs. He also guest-starred on popular
series and participated in reunion specials celebrating The Andy Griffith
Show and Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.
Nabors
began to vacation in Hawaii in the 1960s, which eventually inspired him to move
there in the decades to come. In the 1990s, he also owned a home in Whitefish,
Montana.
His
film appearances included supporting roles in productions such as The Best
Little Whorehouse in Texas (1982), in which he appeared alongside Burt
Reynolds and Dolly Parton. He also appeared in the television movie Return to
Mayberry (1986). During the same year, he starred in a half-hour television
comedy pilot called Sylvan in Paradise, but it was not picked up by NBC.
Nabors maintained an active touring schedule. He
performed with symphony orchestras across the United States and regularly
appeared in Las Vegas, where his combination of humor and music appealed to
audiences of all ages. His concerts often blended inspirational songs,
patriotic selections, Broadway favorites, and lighthearted stories from his
television career. Unlike many performers whose fame faded after their
signature television role ended, Nabors successfully reinvented himself as a
respected concert artist.
Outside entertainment, Nabors became closely associated with one of America’s most celebrated sporting events. In 1972, Nabors attended the race as a guest of casino owner Bill Harrah. On race morning, Indianapolis Motor Speedway owner Tony Hulman approached Nabors and asked if he would “sing the song” before the race. Nabors assumed he meant “The Star-Spangled Banner” and readily agreed. Only moments before the performance did he discover that he was actually expected to sing “(Back Home Again in) Indiana.” Unfamiliar with all the lyrics, he quickly wrote them on the palm of his hand before climbing onto a ladder with the Purdue All-American Marching Band. His unrehearsed performance was an instant success, earning an enthusiastic ovation from the crowd. Nabors returned the following year, and what began as a last-minute favor evolved into one of the Indianapolis 500’s most beloved traditions. Between 1972 and 2014, he performed the song 34 times, becoming so closely identified with the race that many fans considered his heartfelt rendition the unofficial start of the “Greatest Spectacle in Racing.”
Nabors
purchased a home in Honolulu in the 1970s and eventually made Hawaii his
permanent residence. The islands offered him a quieter lifestyle away from
Hollywood while allowing him to continue performing and recording. After moving
from Bel Air, California, with his partner, Stan Cadwaller, he initiated a show
at the Hilton Hawaiian Village called the Jim Nabors Extravaganza, which
continued for two years. He also performed at the Las Vegas Hilton and made his
theatrical debut in 1982 as Professor Harold Hill in The Music Man with
Florence. Henderson at the Burt Reynolds Dinner Theatre in Jupiter, Florida.
In
1994, Nabors was ill and suffering from hepatitis B, which he reportedly
contracted while in Indiana and accidentally cutting himself with a straight
razor. His prognosis was grim as the disease caused liver failure. However, his
friend, actress Carol Burnett, put him in contact with the head of the liver
transplant division at the University of California–Los Angeles for further
treatment options. He eventually received a transplant and became active with
the American Liver Foundation, in addition to continuing to tour and perform.
Although
he maintained a relatively private personal life, Nabors publicly acknowledged
his longtime relationship with Cadwallader. After same-sex marriage became
legal in Washington state, the couple married in Seattle at the Fairmount
Olympic Hotel in January 2013, formalizing a relationship that had lasted for
more than three decades.
Nabors passed away at his home in
Honolulu, Hawaii, on November 30, 2017, at the age of 87. His death prompted
tributes from across the entertainment industry, the racing community, and
countless admirers who had grown up watching him on television. The United
States Marien Corps also posted a statement on their official Twitter account,
reading: “Semper Fi, Gomer Pyle. Rest in peace Jim Nabors, one of the few to
ever be named an honorary Marine.”
Today, Nabors’ legacy is celebrated
in many locations.
The Jim Nabors exhibit is located
at the Isabel Anderson Comer Museum and Arts Center in his Sylacauga, Alabama,
hometown. It is located at 711 N. Broadway Ave., Sylacauga, Alabama.
His childhood home stands at 511 S.
Broadway Ave., Sylacauga, Alabama.
511 S. Broadway Ave., Sylacauga, Alabama
In the 1960s, he resided at 1848 N.
Gramercy Pl., Los Angeles, California, which stands.
1848 N. Gramercy Pl., Los Angeles, California
In 1978, a portion of U.S. Route
280 in Talladega County was named Jim Nabors Highway.
In the 1980s, he owned a property
at 2750 Big Mountain Rd., Whitefish, Montana, which remains.
In 1992, he maintained a residence
at 10450 Wilshire Blvd., Apt. 6A, Los Angeles, California, which also stands.
10450 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, California
In Honolulu, Hawaii, Nabors is
honored at the Hilton Hawaiian Village Waikiki Beach Resort through their many
displays that celebrate the resort’s history. The resort is located at 2005
Kalia Rd., Honolulu, Hawaii.
His home in Honolulu stands at 215 Kulamanu Place, Honolulu, Hawaii.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the “Hometowns to Hollywood” blog, in which she profiles her trips to the hometowns of classic Hollywood stars. She has also been featured on the popular classic film-oriented television network, Turner Classic Movies. A regular columnist for Classic Movie Hub, her articles have appeared in TCM Backlot, Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, The Dark Pages Film Noir Newsletter, and Chicago Art Deco Society Magazine.
Humans, Robots Clash in Remarkably Relevant ‘Creation of the Humanoids’
Modern technology is crazy, isn’t it? It feels like it can take over the world – perhaps not right away but we can see it coming. We welcomed advancements that helped us, but when is it going too far? I recently had to jump out of the way of a robotic floor cleaner at a grocery store. Don’t even talk to me about getting into a self-driving car. because it’s not happening.
So I get why people wonder what these advancements may cost humanity. Take Cragis, for example, who worries that if everything is being done for us that it takes away our incentive to learn, to grow, to be human. “Why do we need mathematics if the machines can give us a better answer, faster?” he asks.
Good question.
Cragis is Captain Kenneth Cragis, the main character in the 1960 sci-fi film The Creation of the Humanoids. Although everything about this film from the set design to the acting and technology screams low-budget B-movie from the past, the plot could have been written today.
This is the R58 model of the “clicker” robot with its blueish/green skin and metallic eyes.
The original story by Jay Simms (The Giant Gila Monster,The Killer Shrews) was ahead of its time regarding the battles with technology (people vs. machines), bigotry and class. It can’t help but be noticed that the humans in the film are white people who don’t trust the colored humanoid/robots.
The point is clear when we meet the volunteer group of men fighting to keep the world safe from the humanoids. The Order of Flesh and Blood, referred to as an ultra-conservative pressure group against the advancement of robots, fears that the humanoids will take over the world. If the Order reminds you of the KKK, there’s a reason for that.
* * * * *
Set in the 23rd Century, The Creation of the Humanoids is about the aftermath of a 48-hour nuclear war that nearly destroyed the world. About 92% of the population died from lingering radiation within two weeks. The birthrates for those who survived plummeted to 1.4% signaling that the end to humanity was near.
Nothing to fear here: One of the early robots, the R1, in Creation of the Humanoids.
Out of desperation, people turned to robotic automation devices to rebuild. One of the first advancements was the Magnetic Integrator Neuron Duplicator. Only 1/100th the size of a golf ball, it duplicates a portion of the human nervous system leading to the Primitive Robotic Automation Devices (robots to us) that could do menial jobs.
The first was the R1, a ranking that corresponds to the percentage that the robot is human, so it was 1% human.
That was OK with humans because these robots were so primitive they looked like a toy. It didn’t stay that way.
The R21 model was the first humanoid robot. It had some human features, including metallic-looking eyes and blueish skin. Humans were getting nervous and started calling them by the disparaging nickname of clickers. The Order of Flesh and Blood could stop the clickers on the street for no reason, question them, ask for their assignment cards and then decide if they would let go or not. Another example of similarities to our world today.
The growing fear that the robots can become human made it illegal to “improve” them past R70, but the work continues to be done in secret.
Dr. Raven (Don Doolittle in white coat) is putting the final touches on his newest robot that will be nearly human in The Creation of the Humanoids.
Dr. Raven (Don Doolittle) has created the nearly perfect robot via his thalamic transplant that inserts the memories and personality of a (dead) human through a device only the size of an almond. This is the R96 model and it has human emotions including the ability to laugh, to cry and hate. You can imagine the panic that will ensue once this news gets out.
Now back to Captain Cragis, who is the head of the Order’s Surveillance Committee and is very serious about his volunteer job. He’s a dour and gruff chap played by Don Megowan who classic movie fans will know as the Gill-man in The Creature Walks Among Us. When he learns his sister Esme (Frances McCann) is “in rapport” with a humanoid he loses it.
Cragis (Don Megowan, center) is troubled that his sister Esme (Frances McCann) is involved with the robot Pax (David Cross) who dutifully serves drinks even as they fight about him.
This is against everything he stands for since being “in rapport” legally allows a human and humanoid to interact and cohabitate. To Esme, being in rapport is being in harmony, in love, with Pax, her R49 robot. Cragis doesn’t want to hear about it. Pax is not like them, he argues. He’s a robot and she needs to be with a human, even if it’s her cruel, alcoholic ex-boyfriend.
“Miles was a man,” he explodes.
“He was a beast,” she interrupts. “Pax is more of a man than Miles – or you – can ever be.”
It’s easy to see her point since the self-centered Cragis could use some humanity himself. He’s harsh, cold and detached, attributes underscored by Megowan’s one-note performance.
Will either sibling get the other to see their side? I’m rooting for the steadfast Esme to help Cragis.
“We fall in love when we see a part of ourselves reflected in another person,” says Esme, who seems to believe that love conquers all.
It’s an unlikely love at first sight for Maxine (Erica Elliot) and Cragis (Don Megowan).
He may not understand her words at that moment, but he will soon. Just one look at the statuesque blonde Maxine (Erica Elliot) melts the cold Cragis who feels love for the first time. It’s earth-shattering for both of them in ways they can’t begin to understand.
This is where the movie shifts and will appear to offer some twists that we may have been expecting all along.
Meanwhile, as the family drama and romantic feelings were coming out, the humanoids were going about their business without being weighed down by those human emotions. It can make you understand why one of them said he pities the new R96 unit with its human emotions. “To become an R96 is a real sacrifice.”
* * * * *
Members of the Order of Flesh and Blood, including Cragis (Don Megowan, left), are always so serious despite wearing pretty shimmery shirts, ornate detailed pants and Civil War hats. The police get to wear red capes and plastic hats.
When I started watching The Creation of the Humanoids, I stopped and started it a few times not sure if I wanted to give the movie more time. The production values were nearly nonexistent as actors walked across a barren stage with a painted backdrop. The early dialogue and acting is stilted. The wardrobe looked like rented costumes, especially the robots’ bland jumpsuits and the odd powder-blue shirts and Civil War-style hats worn by the Order of Flesh and Blood.
But then the script caught me off-guard with themes that felt relevant today and kept my interest. I wanted to see where it would go.
Once the story moved to Esme’s jewel-toned apartment, the colorless film came to life through the vibrant set and emotions. Floor-to-ceiling sheer curtains sparkled and there was much attention to detail in Esme’s beautifully done hair, makeup and gorgeous green gown. It was captivating enough that I could forgive the stagey acting that took over and the echoes of actors reading their lines off screen.
Esme (Frances McCann) tries to explain her feelings for a human-like robot to her angry brother Cragis (Don Megowan). This scene in her apartment is a visual highlight of an otherwise bland looking film.
As Cragis bemoans what is happening to society because of the robots, his sister tells him “You aren’t just charging windmills. You’re trying to hold back the ocean with a sponge.” That analogy works well for the film and is something to think about as we deal with similar issues today.
Those robot eyes
Iconic makeup artist Jack Pierce (Frankenstein) created the robot makeup that included the large reflective eyes that appear like metallic balls in their eye sockets. Dr. Louis M. Zabner, credited for “special eye effects,” is the optometrist who created the pioneering contact lenses that could change an actor’s eye color.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at
The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a member
and board chair of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and led the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs.
She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the
spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can
find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto or on Bluesky at @watchingforever.bsky.social
Next to film noir, my favorite type of classic movie is
pre-Code – films released roughly between 1929 and July 1934, before the strict
enforcement of the Motion Picture Production Code (also known as the Hays
Code). The Hays Code represented a set of censorship guidelines for what could
and could not be shown in American movies, but before the enforcement of these
guidelines kicked into high gear in 1934, filmmakers had more freedom to
explore a variety of subjects like crime, sexuality, adultery, drug use, and
moral ambiguity. Once the enforcement of the Code became more rigorous, many of
these themes either disappeared from films – or forced filmmakers to become
more creative in their efforts to depict them.
It’s no wonder, then, that I’m so fond of pre-Code films – many
of them served up plots that would have made near-perfect film noirs. In fact, there
are a handful of pre-Codes that were remade as noirs, including the 1933 Walter
Huston starrer, The Criminal Code, which emerged in the noir era as Convicted
(1950), featuring Glenn Ford and Broderick Crawford; and, of course, the
pre-Code Maltese Falcon (1931), which was remade into the classic 1941
Humphrey Bogart noir of the same name. But there are many great pre-Codes that never
saw the noir light of day (or shadow of night, if you will) – and this month’s
Noir Nook offers Part 1 of two-parter that takes a look at these features.
City Streets (1931)
Gary Cooper and Sylvia Sidney
Gary Cooper stars here as, simply, The Kid, whose
sweet-faced girlfriend Nan (Sylvia Sidney) has close ties with the underworld,
thanks to her shady stepfather, Pop Cooley (Guy Kibbee, in a rare bad-guy
role). The Kid vehemently resists Nan’s efforts to draw him into Pop’s criminal
enterprise, but when she winds up in prison, he finds himself straying to the
dark side.
With its organized crime setting, City Streets offers
several noirish elements, especially the theme of ordinary people drawn
unwittingly into a world of corruption and wrongdoing. One of the most
memorable aspects of the film is its visual style, which is strongly
reminiscent of the noirs to come; in one striking scene, for instance, two
characters walk along a darkened street, but the image of one man (who plans to
murder the other) is briefly shown only as a menacing, looming shadow.
Safe in Hell (1931)
Dorothy Mackaill and Donald Cook
This feature centers on Gilda Carlson (Dorothy MacKaill), a
call girl who finds herself in hot water when she accidentally kills the man whose
misdeeds led her into prostitution. Her sailor fiancé (Donald Cook) comes to
her rescue by arranging for her to hide out on a remote Caribbean island, but there,
she joins a motley crew consisting of murderers, thieves, and other unsavory
types – and she finds herself in a far more precarious existence than the one
she left behind.
There are few clearly defined villains or heroes in this
film – most of the characters are tinged with a tenor of moral ambiguity; even
Gilda’s honorable and highly principled fiancé breaks the law to help her evade
the long arm of the law. The film also functions under a constant pall of doom,
signaling to the viewer that a happy ending is not necessarily on the horizon.
Three on a Match (1932)
Ann Dvorak
Ann Dvorak, Joan Blondell, and Bette Davis star in this film
as childhood friends who grow up to lead vastly dissimilar lives; Davis, as Ruth
Westcott, becomes a secretary and Blondell’s Mary Keaton turns her life around
after spending her teen years in a reformatory. But it’s Ann Dvorak who gets
the juiciest role – Vivian Revere Kirkland, a wealthy but wholly unfulfilled
wife and mother who abandons her comfy life and jumps feet first into a world
of crime, drugs, and abuse.
The paramount noir-like theme of Three on a Match
focuses on the spate of bad decisions made by Vivian Kirkland, and the manner
in which she throws away a safe and comfortable life with both hands. Further,
like Safe in Hell, the film operates under a near-constant sensation of
dread, as the plot steam rolls its way to a shocking and unforgettable end.
Night World (1932)
Mae Clarke (center) flanked by fellow chorus girls Amo Ingraham and Edna Callahan
This feature unites a range of intertwining stories, viewed
on one single night via the lens of a New York nightclub. The players include Ruth
Taylor (Mae Clarke), a hard-boiled but soft-hearted chorus girl, and Michael
Rand (Lew Ayres), the emotionally unstable victim of a tragic family scandal.
Also on hand in this mélange of personalities and circumstances is the club’s
owner, Happy (Boris Karloff); his duplicitous wife, Jill (Dorothy Revier); and
a crooked gambler (George Raft), who has eyes for Ruth.
The aptly named Night World offers just that – not
only literally, but metaphorically as well, as it depicts a realm populated by
characters who are alternately disillusioned, immoral, world-weary, and cruel.
The atmosphere is rife with despair, and few of the club’s occupants – even one
of its most positive and likable characters – are unable to escape the inevitable
outcome.
The House on 56th Street (1932)
Phillip Reed, Margaret Lindsay, Ricardo Cortez, and Kay Francis
Opening in turn-of-the century New York, and spanning
several decades, this tale stars Kay Francis as Peggy Martin, a chorus girl who
marries wealthy and handsome Monte Van Tyle and lives in a beautiful mansion
with her husband and their young daughter. But when she has a chance encounter
with a former lover (John Halliday), her idyllic existence is turned upside down,
and her life will never be the same.
The plot of the film centers on the impossibility of
escaping one’s destiny. In addition to a protagonist who is haunted by her
past, and who struggles to reclaim a life that is out of her reach, the events
are characterized by a noirish series of coincidences, fate, and injustices,
leading to a conclusion that you won’t see coming.
Stop by the Noir Nook next month for Part 2 of Pre-Code Films with Film Noir Flavor. Any guesses as to the pre-Codes that might be covered next time? Leave a note in the comments and let me know!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
I
discovered the existence of Man Hunt (1941) while searching for classic
movies about close encounters with Nazis, and as soon as I learned about it, I
knew I needed to see it for myself. Adapted from Geoffrey Household’s 1939
novel, Rogue Male, Man Hunt is one of several anti-Nazi films
directed by Fritz Lang, who was born in Vienna and made masterpieces like Metropolis
(1927) and M (1931) in Germany but left for the United States in the
1930s. The cast includes well-known stars like Walter Pidgeon, George Sanders,
Joan Bennett, John Carradine, and Roddy McDowall, but the real appeal here is
the tantalizing idea of a man who has the opportunity to assassinate Hitler,
wastes it, and then ends up on the run from both the Nazis and his own
government for making the attempt. While Hitler was sadly still alive and committing
atrocities in 1941, when the movie debuted, it’s a fascinating “what if”
scenario that feels even more poignant when viewed in the wake of the horrors
that followed the film’s release.
If you had Hitler in the crosshairs, what would you do?
Walter
Pidgeon leads as famous big game hunter, Alan Thorndike, who decides to test
his skills by sneaking up to Hitler’s well-protected retreat and pulling the
trigger of his empty rifle at the dictator from a great distance. Impulsively,
Alan then loads the rifle, seemingly ready to take the shot for real, but is
captured by the Nazis before he can fire. When he escapes after an attempt to
make his murder look like an accident, Alan is pursued from Germany to London
by ruthless Nazis Quive-Smith (George Sanders) and Jones (John Carradine), who
want to force Alan to claim that his assassination attempt was ordered by the
British government. Alan finds allies in a young cabin boy named Vaner (Roddy
McDowall), and the charming Jerry Stokes (Joan Bennett), but the cat-and-mouse
game with Quive-Smith leads to deadly consequences and a tense final
confrontation.
Captured by the Nazis, Alan (Walter Pidgeon) is questioned by Quive-Smith (George Sanders), who claims to admire the famous big game hunter.
There’s an
often-visited question at the heart of this plot: “If you had the opportunity
to kill Hitler, would you?” What’s striking, however, is that Household was
asking this question in 1939 and Lang in 1941, so no Twilight Zone time
travel premise is required. The author and film director couldn’t yet know the
full scope of the suffering the dictator would bring to the world, but what
they did know was bad enough to prompt them to imagine someone attempting to
put a stop to it. When Household’s Rogue Male was published in May 1939,
Britain was still pursuing its appeasement policy toward Hitler under the
administration of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, but that ended when
Germany invaded Poland in September 1939. Britain was at war with the Nazis when
Man Hunt was released in June of 1941, but the United States wouldn’t
enter the war until December, and both 20th Century Fox and Joseph
Breen’s Hays Code Office balked at Lang’s depiction of the Nazis as blatantly
evil (for more about the suppression of anti-Nazi films in Hollywood, see David
Denby’s 2013 New Yorker article, “Hitler in Hollywood,” or take a deep dive with Thomas
Doherty’s 2015 book, Hollywood and Hitler, 1933-1939).
Roddy McDowall makes a brief but memorable appearance as the cabin boy, Vaner.
If the
premise doesn’t convince you to watch Man Hunt, there’s the appeal of a cast
packed with familiar favorites. Canadian Walter Pidgeon makes an attractive and
believable big game hunter, and his pro-Britain role here presages his
appearance in Mrs. Miniver (1942), which would earn him an Academy Award
nomination for Best Actor. Joan Bennett’s sweet face and youthful energy help
to make up for her shortcomings in the accent department as Londoner Jerry, who
falls in love with Alan as soon as they meet and refuses to abandon him in
spite of the danger. Her portrayal encourages a sympathetic view of a
working-class London girl who is depicted (but never identified) as a
prostitute, which helps to explain, if not excuse, the offended snobbery of
Alan’s sister-in-law when the two women meet. It’s a lot of fun to see Roddy
McDowall, here making his American film debut after leaving England due to the
Blitz, in his few scenes with Pidgeon, especially with both destined for more
memorable roles in the five-time Oscar winner, How Green Was My Valley,
which came out later the same year. While the good guys are engaging, however,
the bad guys really keep the tension mounting. George Sanders is an eloquent,
civilized devil as the Nazi Quive-Smith, so duplicitous that we know from the
first scene never to trust a word out of his mouth, no matter how reasonable he
tries to sound. Taciturn John Carrradine is perfectly cast as Alan’s constant
pursuer, Jones, who first impersonates Alan and then relentlessly tails him
until the two men finally face off in an Underground tunnel. As great as
Sanders and Carradine are as villains, my favorite bit of acting in the film
comes from Jewish immigrant Ludwig Stössel as the unnamed Nazi doctor who
gleefully pushes Alan off a cliff. Stössel had fled Germany and then Austria to
escape Hitler, and he also appears in Lang’s The Testament of Dr. Mabuse
(1933), but you’re most likely to recognize him as Mr. Leuchtag in Casablanca
(1942) from the scene in which he and his wife practice their English at Rick’s
to an amused Carl (S.Z. Sakall).
Alan and Jerry (Joan Bennett) watch for threats as they move about in London.
Fritz Lang’s other anti-Nazi films in the 1940s include Hangmen Also Die! (1943), Ministry of Fear (1944), and Cloak and Dagger (1946). For even more classic movies featuring close encounters with the Third Reich, see Desperate Journey (1942), Lifeboat (1944), and The Stranger (1946). George Sanders plays another Nazi in Confessions of a Nazi Spy (1939) and an undercover agent in They Came to Blow Up America (1943), while Joan Bennett also gets tangled up with the Nazis as the heroine in The Man I Married (1940). Rogue Male was adapted again as a TV movie starring Peter O’Toole in 1976, and Geoffrey Household released a sequel to Rogue Male, titled Rogue Justice, in 1982. In addition to its premise, my own interest in Man Hunt stems from the significance of Rogue Male in Kaliane Bradley’s brilliant 2024 novel, The Ministry of Time. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in time travel stories or the doomed Franklin Expedition of 1845, and I understood Bradley’s use of Household’s novel much better after watching the film adaptation, even if the movie version changed quite a few plot elements.
It’s fascinating to see how American
silent filmmakers portrayed events from U.S. history. Just think how much
closer they were in time to events that are practically mythical to us today.
In 1915, the Civil War had taken place only 50 years prior. In 1925, the
American Revolution itself was barely reaching its 150th anniversary. And
indeed, it’s easy to find an abundance of silent Civil War films, tales from
the pioneer days, propagandistic WWI films, and of course an overwhelming
amount of silent Westerns. But what about stories from the American Revolution?
These seemed to be much fewer and farther
between, much like they still are today. Nowadays it’s easy to blame modern
filmmakers for having a simple lack of interest in Revolutionary War stories or
for audiences being less drawn to the aesthetics of powdered hair and knee
breeches. But why the sparseness way back in the silent film days? Wasn’t this a time when there was a strong
reverence for figures like George Washington and organizations like the
Daughters of the American Revolution were very well-known?
Actress Claire Windsor “impersonating Betsy Ross” in Picture-Play magazine.
Perhaps we can point to a few reasons. In
cinema’s earliest days, the 1890s-1900s, films were very focused on
contemporary events. The excitement over capturing “life as it really was”
meant cameramen were quick to capture parades, military drills, footage of
famous figures, street scenes, and any other contemporary events they could
reach with their cameras. By the 1910s short fictional stories had grown in
popularity, as did reenactments of historical events, yet Revolutionary War
films were still relatively rare. Perhaps the 18th century costuming was a
drawback for most studios with meager budgets.
It’s probable, too, that both filmmakers
and their audiences had grown up enamored with Civil War stories and were more
excited to see them on the screen. More than a few likely had fathers,
grandfathers and other relatives who’d actually fought in the conflict. And
then there’s the timing: as the film industry matured throughout the 1910s and
epic battle scenes were growing more common, WWI started. Films with negative
depictions of our British allies were, shall we say, frowned upon. By the
1920s, fatigue from the four-year Great War and a surging interest in all
things modern perhaps meant that audiences were less interested in
wigs-and-muskets tales.
With all that said, what are some
prominent examples of silent Revolutionary War films? What kinds of stories did
filmmakers find exciting or of enough importance to try to immortalize in film?
The Hessian Renegades (1909)
From 1908 to 1914, director D.W. Griffith
made an astonishing 500 short films for the American Biograph Company. Aside
from the plethora of dramatic stories, short romances, and even comedies, he
would sometimes tackle subjects that drew from history. The Hessian
Renegades told the story of a father who seeks revenge for the death of his
son, an army dispatcher who’s killed by German mercenaries (“Hessian”). While
the acting may seem stilted to our eyes, it’s done with sincerity and an eye
towards the seriousness of the high-stakes story. As a bonus, it features Mary
Pickford–then new to films–who disguises herself as a mercenary.
The Heart of a Hero (1916)
This feature told the dramatic story of
Nathan Hale, he of the “I only regret that I have but one life to give for my
country” quote fame. It was based on the 1898 play Nathan Hale by Clyde
Fitch, the most popular American playwright at that point in time. It includes
one of those obligatory romances–in this case between Hale and his student–and
a solemn outdoor death sequence. Directed with care and featuring costumes
reportedly based on authentic 18th century clothing, it was praised for the
respectful way it treated historic events but was also criticized by Moving
Picture World for having a French, rather than American, director.
Betsy Ross (1917)
This
if very fictionalized, feature stars Alice Brady as the famed maker of
the first official U.S. flag. Much of the film centers upon Betsy’s rivalry
with her sister over the affections of a British officer. Eventually there is a
duel, both Betsy and her sister end up marrying different men, Betsy starts a
small business, and she eventually gets suspected of harboring a spy (it all
seems a bit off topic). We also see her receive her commission from George
Washington himself to create the first American flag. This was made by the
World Film Company in Fort Lee, New Jersey, one of the dwindling number of
studios still making films on the East coast rather than sunny southern
California.
Janice Meredith (1924)
This Marion Davies costume drama,
well-funded by her significant other William Randolph Hearst, was not a major
hit but did respectably well. It followed the exploits of the lively Janice
Meredith, a Tory girl who flirts with both Americans and the British. She just
happens to become involved in assisting Paul Revere on his famous ride and even
George Washington during his fateful crossing of the Delaware. Marie Antoinette
and Benjamin Franklin also make appearances. The lengthy film tried to be a bit
of everything–dramatic, humorous, even a bit artsy. It also featured a
character played by W.C. Fields, his first 1920s film role, and the silent era
Harrison FordC.
America (1924)
In the 1920s, D.W. Griffith was hoping to
create an epic film that would do for the American Revolution what his weighty The
Birth of a Nation (1915) did for the Civil War. Lengthy and ambitiously
presented, it jumped between both Patriot and Loyalist viewpoints and depicted
many famous incidents such as the Battle of Bunker Hill and the Siege of
Yorktown. Spies, Indian attacks, and large-scale battle scenes abound. While
less controversial than his 1915 Civil War epic and certainly big on
battlefield spectacle, plot points floated confusingly between various
characters and critics felt the film was out of step with what was popular at
the time. Nonetheless it makes for interesting viewing today, especially around
any Fourth of July.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
Rosalind Loretta Mooney, later know as Rosalind Byrne, was
born on February 19, 1904, in St Marys, Ohio, to William and Mary Mooney. Her
parents were prominent members of the community and her father worked as a
judge. Tragically, he passed away the year she was born. William and Mary had
five children: Rosalind, Catherine, Eilleen, Mary, and Michael. Sadly,
Catherine and Michael passed away before Rosalind was born.
As a child, Mooney attended Immaculate Heart Convent for her
education. She enjoyed participating in theatrical productions and soon pursued
a career as an actress, taking on the stage name of Rosalind Byrne.
By 1920, she and her mother moved to California. She made
her screen debut at age 19 in the film Flaming Youth (1923), albeit
uncredited, as Fabian Flapper, thanks to her catching the eye of director John
Francis Dillon at First National.
Rosalind with Buster Keaton
Over the years, she appeared in minor roles, though she
worked alongside some of the era’s major stars. Her debut film, Flaming
Youth (1923), starred Colleen Moore. She could also be spotted with Buster
Keaton in Sherlock Jr. (1923) as the box office cashier and with Keaton
again in Seven Chances (1925) as the hat check girl. She appeared in The
Freshman (1925) with Harold Lloyd as a girl at a dance in a delightful
comedy bit as his suspenders tangle with her attire. She also performed in The
Wizard of Oz (1925) as the Herald Trumpeter and in Long Pants (1927)
with Harry Langdon, among many other roles.
In addition, she worked in several more films with other
notable individuals in the industry. This included credits in King Vidor’s Wine
of Youth (1924). Frank Capra’s That Certain Thing (1928), Dorothy
Arzner’s Ten Modern Commandments (1927), Tom Buckingham’s What Price
Beauty? (1928), and more. Her sole talkie appearance was in Innocents of
Paris (1929) with Maurice Chevalier.
Nonetheless, Byrne’s film career did not thrive as much as
studio executives expected. Ultimately, Byrne left the film industry in 1929,
never to return.
In 1932, she married Assistant Vice President of the First
National Bank of Chicago Thomas Humphrey Beacom Jr. in St. Joseph, Indiana. They
resided in Wilmette, Illinois, and later in Winnetka, Illinois, where they
raised two children: Mary Constance “Connie” Beacom and Thomas Humphrey “Terry”
Beacom III. They remained married until Beacom’s passing in 1962.
Byrne passed away in 1989 at age 85. She is at rest at All
Saints Catholic Cemetery and Mausoleum in Des Plaines, Illinois.
Today, some of Byrne’s homes remain. In 1910, Byrne, her
mother, and her sisters resided at 221 S. Wayne St., St. Marys, Ohio, along
with a servant named Jeanette Hamilton. This home no longer stands.
By 1920, Byrne, her mother, and her sisters moved to 1922 N.
St Andrew’s Pl., Los Angeles, California. This home stands.
1922 N. St Andrew’s Pl.
In 1930, the family lived at 1953 Tamarind Ave., Los
Angeles, California. This home has since been razed.
By 1940, Byrne moved to Illinois. Byrne, her husband, and
their two children lived at 725 Greenwood Ave., Wilmette, Illinois. This home
remains.
725 Greenwood Ave.
In 1950, they had already relocated to 552 Ridge Rd.,
Winnetka, Illinois. This home also stands.
552 Ridge Rd.
By 1974, Byrne maintained an address at 1630 Sheridan Rd.,
Wilmette, Illinois, which also remains.
All Saints Catholic Cemetery and Mausoleum is located at 700 N. River Rd., Des Plaines, Illinois. She is buried in the cemetery’s older section immediately across the street from the larger, newer section.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the “Hometowns to Hollywood” blog, in which she profiles her trips to the hometowns of classic Hollywood stars. She has also been featured on the popular classic film-oriented television network, Turner Classic Movies. A regular columnist for Classic Movie Hub, her articles have appeared in TCM Backlot, Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, The Dark Pages Film Noir Newsletter, and Chicago Art Deco Society Magazine.
Bend of the River (1952), starring James Stewart and
directed by Anthony Mann, is not just one of my favorite Westerns, it’s one of
my very favorite films.
Readers with long memories may recall I wrote about Bend
of the River here way back in 2018,
in my introductory column about my favorite Westerns. A few years later, I recommended
it in my column on Westerns for young viewers.
The impetus for this full-length review is the release of a new Bend of the RiverBlu-ray by Kino Lorber Studio Classics.
Kino Lorber previously released Bend of the River on
Blu-ray about seven years ago, in 2019.
It was a nice-looking disc but has been supplanted by a far better
Blu-ray featuring a new restoration by Universal Pictures in collaboration with
the Film Foundation.
The restoration seen on the disc is from a 4K scan of the
original 35mm three-strip Technicolor negative.
The new Blu-ray looks, in a word, spectacular, and I wanted
to share the news on this release with my Western RoundUp readers!
Bend of the River was the second of Stewart and
Mann’s eight collaborations, following Winchester ’73 (1950). I wrote
about Winchester ‘73here
after seeing it at the 2019 TCM Classic Film Festival, if any readers would
like to visit that review for additional context. Winchester ’73 might
possibly be the best of the Stewart-Mann films, but Bend of the River is
my favorite.
Bend of the River has a very good screenplay by
Borden Chase; readers may recall I recently visited
Chase’s gravesite at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills. His script was based on a novel titled Bend
of the Snake by Bill Gulick.
The film tells the story of Glynn
McLyntock (Stewart), a man with a violent past seeking to reform and live a new
life, leading a group of settlers to Oregon.
Arthur Kennedy, James Stewart
McLyntock saves a stranger, Emerson Cole (Arthur Kennedy),
from a lynch mob, but while the grateful Cole is initially helpful to McLyntock
in various ways, bit by bit Cole’s darker side emerges. Even having won the love of settler Laura
Baile (Julia “Julie” Adams) is not enough for Cole, who ultimately betrays all
of his new friends.
Julie Adams, Arthur Kennedy, James Stewart
It’s a relatively short film, at 91 minutes, but I always
appreciate movies which tell their stories efficiently. I do think Julie Adams’
character could have used a couple more minutes of screen time to better
develop her character, but that’s truly my only criticism of a movie I’ve
affectionately termed “movie comfort food.”
The film has a marvelous mixture of interesting characters,
exciting action set pieces, and beautiful locations, filmed in Technicolor by
Irving Glassberg. It’s stood up to
countless repeat viewings over the years, and I tend to notice new things on
each viewing, which for me is one of the marks of a good film.
Rock Hudson, Arthur Kennedy, James Stewart
Stewart is outstanding straddling the line between being a
gallant, kind romantic and someone who clearly has a questionable past. Stewart
let his darker side come out at appropriate times in his Mann Westerns, and
when he says “You’ll be seein’ me!” to Kennedy’s Cole in this film, it’s
absolutely chilling. No doubt he means
it.
There’s also humor to go along with the dark and upsetting
moments; in fact, McLyntock and Cole’s initial lighthearted camaraderie is one
reason Cole’s ultimate betrayal hits so hard. One of the film’s most
interesting themes, on the possibility of redemption and what that looks like,
is illustrated by these two men, who make very different choices as far as how
they will live the rest of their lives.
When I saw Julie Adams interviewed at a 2011 screening of
the film, she said she would watch Stewart film his closeups and marvel over
what he could convey simply with his eyes; she said she worked with many actors
over the years and few could match Stewart’s skills in front of a camera. Here we see quiet love, fear, anger, and hurt
all conveyed through Stewart’s expressive eyes.
There’s a wonderfully deep cast, including Rock Hudson as a
charming gambler who joins the settlers and is sweet on Adams’ younger sister
(Lori Nelson).
Rock Hudson, Jay C. Flippen, Julie Adams
Mann regulars Jay C. Flippen and Harry Morgan are on hand,
along with Frank Ferguson, Jack Lambert, Royal Dano, Howard Petrie, Lillian
Randolph, and Frances Bavier.
Chubby Johnson and Stepin Fetchit, as the captain of a
paddlewheeler and his righthand man, have a sweet friendship that adds another
enjoyable dimension to the movie.
Stepin Fetchit, Chubby Johnson
Kino Lorber Studio Classics has provided not one but two
commentary tracks with this release: A commentary by Toby Roan which was part
of their original 2019 Blu-ray release, and a new track by Julie Kirgo and C.
Courtney Joyner.
I’ve listened to Roan’s track in the past, which includes
detailed backgrounds on all of the cast and interesting information on some of
the difficulties faced by the company shooting at remote locations in Oregon.
Joyner is a Westerns expert who’s been a guest at the Lone
Pine Film Festival. Having also enjoyed
tracks by Kirgo in the past, I’m looking forward to listening to the new
commentary track soon.
The disc also includes the trailer and a gallery of five
additional trailers for other Westerns available from Kino Lorber.
As mentioned at the outset, this new Blu-ray print is
outstanding and I highly recommend it.
Thanks to Kino Lorber
for providing a review copy of this Blu-ray.
It’s hard to believe, but as briefly referenced at the outset of this piece, June 2026 marks my eighth anniversary writing the Western RoundUp column. My continued thanks to Classic Movie Hub and all who support this column!
…
– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.
Charles ‘Buddy’ Rogers, Clara Bow, and Richard Arlen
References to Wings (1927) are most
commonly trotted out during awards seasons, as a bit of obligatory trivia
answering the question: “What was the first movie to be given the Oscar for
Best Picture?” Usually this is as far as the trivia will go, which is a shame.
For Wings was one of the most dynamic, gloriously-directed films of the
late silent era, just as exciting and impressive today as it was a century ago.
Wings was created
during the mid-1920s revival of World War I films, kicked off by the incredible
success of MGM’s The Big Parade (1925). After 1918 there had been
relatively few films set during the Great War, perhaps due to public fatigue or
perhaps because some time was still needed to heal the wounds. However, while
people in the optimistic atmosphere of the Roaring Twenties may have wanted to
move on from that sad era, they certainly had no intention of forgetting it.
Rogers and Bow
Paramount would put director William A.
Wellman in charge of the big-budget project, which was based on an unfinished
novel by John Monk Saunders. A fast worker and a dynamic personality, “Wild
Bill” was a descendant of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence
and had even served as a fighter pilot during the war. He walked with a
permanent limp due to being shot down by German anti-aircraft guns in 1918. Wings
would not be an easy production for him, as it involved hundreds of extras
and real-life recreations of aerial combat scenes which were highly
weather-dependent, but his qualifications for such a story were undeniable.
Richard Arlen and Buddy Rogers were chosen to
be the main leads David and Jack, small town youths who enlist to be fighter
pilots in WWI. Arlen had been a fighter pilot in Canada’s Royal Flying Corps
during the war and would bring a steady authenticity to his role. The wholesome
young Rogers, born and raised in Kansas and advertised as “America’s
Boyfriend,” would undergo pilot training for the film’s authentic aerial combat
scenes.
Arlen
The story of Wings would be tweaked to
include Paramount’s biggest star at the time, the vivacious flapper icon Clara
Bow. The saucer-eyed Bow, famously dubbed the “‘It’ Girl” by the influential
romance novelist Elinor Glyn, had starred in numerous Jazz Age hits such as The
Plastic Age (1925) and Kid Boots (1926). Her girl-next-door
character Mary Preston provided a love triangle for Arlen and Rogers and her
image was used prominently on the film’s posters and lobby cards.
One actor hired to play a minor role would go
on to fame and fortune: Gary Cooper. He played Cadet White, David and Jack’s
tent mate in Germany who’s killed in a flight training accident the same day
they met. While his screen time was only a few minutes, he was a charismatic
presence and his character’s sudden demise was a deeply effective way to convey
the shocking cost of the war.
Rogers, Arlen, and Gary Cooper
Wings was
dedicated “to those young warriors of the sky whose wings are folded about them
forever,” as the opening title cards state. Wellman was determined to do them
justice. Many of the battle scenes were shot on several acres of land in San
Antonio, Texas that were transformed into trenches and pockmarked with faux
shellholes. The biplanes used in the film were repainted Thomas-Morse MB-3s and
Curtiss P-1 Hawks, many obtained with assistance from Washington. Thousands of
soldiers were loaned from the Army as extras, and some of the pilots were from
the U.S. Army Air Corps. Wellman directed the large-scale battle scenes
capably, often detonating any explosives himself. He also wasn’t afraid to
clash with the military personnel who were brought in to supervise the
production, insisting on being the one who was ultimately in charge.
Filming the dogfights proved easier said than
done, since clouds were needed for the aerial scenes and the stubbornly clear
skies made the production drag on for many weeks. As he explained patiently to
Paramount, Wellman wanted to have clouds in the background to contrast with the
moving planes to show just how swiftly they were flying. There was also the
question of how to film Arlen and Rogers as they flew their planes. Cameras
would be fixed to the planes in front of their faces, and both actors would have
to not only fly the rickety biplanes but operate the cameras while acting in
the air.
Rogers would be trained to fly by Lieutenant
Hoyt Vandenberg (who would one day become a four-star general in World War II).
The young actor didn’t have a strong stomach for flying and would frequently
get sick when he landed, but would always gamely climb back in the plane for
another takeoff. Vandenberg would fly with Rogers for his first few aerial
scenes and operate the camera while he gained more experience at the controls.
William Wellman on location
The camera innovations didn’t end with the
aerial scenes. The film’s most famous shot today was set in Paris’s famous Folies Bergère and had the camera appear to float through a number of tables occupied
by guests, zooming in on a seated Buddy Rogers. This was achieved by fastening
a dolly to a track on the ceiling and having the camera operator lie on his
stomach on a platform underneath. As it smoothly passed over the tables, the
extras sprang back just as it went between them. One amusing bit of trivia is
that Rogers, shown getting drunk on champagne, was literally drunk during the
scene. Since Rogers had never had alcohol before, Wellman decided to simply
give him real champagne.
Wings would be
released to considerable excitement and acclaim. It premiered in New York City
and would run for an incredible 63 weeks before trickling down to the smaller
theaters. Over the next few years its box office is thought to have totalled an
impressive $3.6 million, especially considering ticket prices at the time. It
was also the first film to receive the industry’s highest honor: the Academy
Award for Best Picture, awarded in 1929 and chosen from 1927-28 films. It
narrowly escaped sharing the honor with F.W. Murnau’s Sunrise (1927),
chosen for the short-lived category of Unique and Artistic Production. It was
retroactively decided that only having a Best Picture made the most sense.
Today, the sprawling battlefields and
heart-stopping dogfights of Wings have aged phenomenally well–indeed,
they seem hardly to have aged at all. And as the decades keep marching by, it
has an uncanny ability to make a war that is often overshadowed by WWII seem
far more real. We can understand in a general sense how the Great War of
1914-18 changed history, but works of art like Wings help us understand
on a personal level the sacrifices of those countless soldiers, pilots and
other brave folks of the past.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
