Sylvia Sidney was born Sophia Kosow in the Bronx, New York,
to Rebecca and Victor Kosow on August 8, 1910. Her parents divorced in 1915 and
she was later adopted by her stepfather, a dentist named Sigmund Sidney. Her
mother worked as a dressmaker under the name Beatrice Sidney.
Sidney became an actress by the age of 15 to combat her
shyness. She studied at the Theatre Guild School for Acting, where she appeared
in performances and garnered praise from theatre critics. She made her first
film appearance as an extra in D.W. Griffith’s The Sorrows of Satan (1926).
During the course of the Great
Depression, Sidney appeared in many films in which she typically portrayed a working-class
heroine or a woman affiliated with a gangster, working with the likes of
Humphrey Bogart, Spencer Tracy, Fredric March, and more. She appeared in An American Tragedy (1931), Merrily We Go to Hell (1932), Sabotage (1936), in addition to many
others. She also performed in the early three-strip Technicolor film, The Trail of the Lonesome Pine (1936).
Sidney married publisher Bennett
Cerf in 1935 and they divorced in 1936. In 1938, she married acting teacher and
actor Luther Adler. They had a child named Jacob. Sidney and Adler divorced in
1946. Her third and final marriage was to radio producer Carlton Alsop, which
ended in divorce in 1951.
After being one of the
highest-paid actresses in the 1930s, her roles waned significantly in the
1940s. In the 1950s, she took on the role of Fantine in Les Misérables (1952). Though the film flopped by the studio’s
standards, Sidney received critical praise. Sidney appeared on television
frequently during this period on shows such as Playhouse 90, Route 66, and
My Three Sons.
In addition, Sidney was active on
Broadway, with a stage career that spanned roughly five decades. Some of her
stage credits included appearances in Prunella,
The Fourposter, and Barefoot in the
Park.
Sidney received an Academy Award
nomination for Best Supporting Actress in Summer
Wishes, Winter Dreams (1973). As the years went on, she played supporting
characters in Beetlejuice (1988) and Mars Attacks! (1996)—both directed by
Tim Burton, who was a fan of Sidney.
Aside from her work as an
entertainer, Sidney was gifted in needlepoint and published two books on the
subject. She also raised showed pug dogs, her favorite breed.
Sidney passed away on July 1,
1999, from esophageal cancer at Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan. She was 88
years old.
Today, some of Sidney’s residences
remain. In 1925, she and her family lived at 201 W. 11th St., New
York, New York. This building stands.
201 W. 11th St., NYC
In 1930, she resided at 33 5th
Ave., New York, New York. This building also remains standing.
33 5th Ave., NYC
In 1936, Sidney resided at 120 E.
39th St., New York, New York, which also remains.
120 E. 39th St., NYC
In the last years of her life,
she resided at 22 Valerie Ln., Danbury, Connecticut, where she bred and raised
her pugs. This home also remains.
22 Valerie Ln., Danbury, CT
Sidney is further remembered with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, honoring her work in motion pictures. Her star is located at 6245 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles, California.
Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.
Silent Superstars: John Gilbert, Idol Of The 1920s
John Gilbert
There are certain silent film stars who, for
whatever reason, are mainly remembered for the myths about them. A prime
example is John Gilbert, the darkly-handsome idol of countless moviegoers. When
he’s remembered at all, it’s usually for the rumor that the talkies revealed
his supposedly “squeaky” voice, sinking his career as one of the silver
screen’s great lovers. But like so many old Hollywood tales, this was not only
far from the truth, but it has unfairly obscured the career of the likable and
talented “Jack” Gilbert.
Garbo and Gilbert
Gilbert’s upbringing was less than ideal. His
mother, a stock company actress, was mentally unstable and flitted from
boyfriend to boyfriend; his real father wasn’t in the picture. Young John would
eventually get the surname “Gilbert” when his mother remarried. Touring kept
the Gilberts constantly on the move, with John only getting the barest of
education until they settled in California and sent him to a military academy.
When he was 14 his mother died, and Walter sent him to San Francisco to fend
for himself with only $10 in his pocket.
The teen would find odd jobs and eventually
work with stock companies on the west coast. While spending his free time going
to movie theaters, he had an epiphany: why not try to become a film star?
Wasting little time, he soon made his motion picture debut as an extra in the
Wilfred Lucas short The Mother Instinct (1915).
By a stroke of good fortune, his stepfather Walter knew a director working for
renowned producer Thomas Ince and sent him a letter with a couple headshots of
Gilbert. Surprisingly, the humble introduction worked and Ince sent the teen an
offer to work for him at fifteen dollars a week.
Over the next few years the energetic Gilbert
would be an extra in films like Civilization
(1915) and Hell’s Hinges (1916)
and work his way up to bit parts, which quickly grew more substantial. Hopping
over to studios like Kay-Bee, Triangle, Universal, Paramount and more, he
co-starred with major names like Mary Pickford and William S. Hart and dabbled
in screenwriting as well. A 1921 contract with Fox established him as an
official new star and he embarked on a number of romantic leading roles.
Romantic roles fit Gilbert like a glove. With
his wavy dark hair and large eyes that almost seemed to glow under his striking
eyebrows, he was one of the most dashingly handsome figures on the screen, at home in both
tailored suits and embroidered period costumes. His acting was confident,
sensitive, and impressively sincere. It wasn’t long before MGM, then the
biggest and most ambitious studio in Hollywood, offered him a contract–before
Fox’s had even ended.
Sadly, nearly all of Gilbert’s early 1920s
features are lost, but fortunately the MGM films making up the remainder of his
‘20s filmography are largely intact. He would star in Erich von Stroheim’s
prestige picture The Merry Widow
(1925)–despite knocking heads with the eccentric director–and gave a powerful
performance in the World War I drama The
Big Parade (1925), the silent era’s biggest blockbuster. But it was his
partnership with the beautiful Swedish actress Greta Garbo that practically
became the stuff of legend. Paired for the first time in Clarence Brown’s
romantic drama Flesh and the Devil (1926),
their chemistry was nothing short of extraordinary–both onscreen and off.
Falling head over heels for each other during the production, Brown would
recall that the two were so absorbed by their love scenes in his film that he
was embarrassed to call “Cut!”
GIlbert and Garbo, Flesh and the Devil
Gilbert would propose to Garbo more than once,
and even planned to hold a double wedding alongside director King Vidor and
actress Eleanor Boardman. The story goes that Garbo never showed up for the
ceremony, and Gilbert, despondent and several drinks in, ended up hitting Louis
B. Mayer after the producer made a crass remark about her. While it’s sometimes
rumored that Mayer vowed to sink Gilbert’s career in retaliation, the actor
would go on to earn millions at MGM for the next few years–a testament to his
box office stature.
Gilbert’s last silent film was Desert Song (1929), followed by his
infamous first talkie His Glorious Night (1929).
A romantic drama directed by Lionel Barrymore, its main weakness had nothing to
do with John Gilbert’s voice–which had a perfectly normal and pleasant
timbre–but its old-fashioned style of doing love scenes that came across as
awkward in sound. The repetitive dialogue, especially Gilbert’s repeating “I
love you, I love you” reportedly made audiences snicker, although his
performance as a whole received praise.
John Gilbert and Catherine Dale Owen in His Glorious Night (1929)
His
Glorious Night turned out to be the beginning of the
end. Gilbert’s talkies weren’t drawing audiences the way they used to, and the
actor himself was getting a reputation for being headstrong and difficult on
the set. While offscreen “Jack” was known as a kind and witty friend, his
growing dependence on alcohol was taking a toll, and his disappointment over
the subpar talkies MGM gave him was hard for him to bear. His personal life was
also rocky, having had four marriages to four different actresses all end in
divorce–although he did have two daughters, Leatrice and Susan Ann.
Gilbert’s final pairing with Garbo in Queen Christina (1933) was a hit, and he
attempted a comeback of sorts in the comedy The
Captain Hates the Sea (1934). But by now alcoholism had ravaged his health
to the point of no return. He would pass away from a heart attack in 1936 at
the young age of 38. It was a tragic end to a career that can easily be
described as glorious. While it’s a pity that he’s mainly remembered for a
Hollywood myth, it’s also gratifying to know that in his surviving films the
charismatic “Jack” still shines.
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.
Summertime
means travel time for me, and that in turn means it’s time for my annual
“B” Western sampler!
I find “B” Westerns, which often run under an
hour, the perfect thing to relax with after a long day of travel and
sightseeing. The portable DVD player I bought a decade ago continues to be one
of my very favorite entertainment-related purchases.
I watched four films during my recent vacation, all from
different studios and featuring different Western stars. In addition to being
diverting entertainment, “B” Westerns often give viewers early looks
at up-and-coming stars, which was the case with a couple of these films.
All of these films are readily available on DVD, with the sources noted below.
…..
Frontier Horizon (George Sherman, 1939)
New Frontier, also known as Frontier Horizon
This movie, also known by the title New Frontier,
was John Wayne’s last ’30s “B Western. It was filmed after the release of
the star-making John Ford Western Stagecoach (1939) earlier
that year.
Frontier Horizon was part of the
long-running Three Mesquiteers series, with the trio being completed by Ray
Corrigan and Raymond Hatton.
John Wayne, Raymond Hatton, Ray Corrigan
The movie was filmed at Southern California locations including Corrigan’s namesake Corriganville, which I wrote about here in 2021, and also at Iverson Movie Ranch, which I wrote about here in 2022.
Except for a brief prologue, the movie ostensibly takes
place circa 1915, but it actually mixes multiple time periods, a practice I’ve
termed “Roy Rogers Land.” Much of the movie seems firmly set in the
Old West, with transportation by horse and buggy, yet some characters also
watch movie footage.
Stock footage of the modern-day construction of a dam is
included; incidentally, it’s said by references to have been one of the Van
Norman dams in Granada Hills, California. The dams were later abandoned after
damage in the 1971 Sylmar earthquake. It’s fascinating how often these brief
“B” Westerns lead to my learning more about California history.
John Wayne, Raymond Hatton
The plot, focusing on the condemnation of a Western
community to make way for said dam, isn’t especially scintillating. There’s
plenty of drama inherent in the conflict over land and water rights, yet
there’s little character development in this film’s scant 57 minutes, and Wayne
is surprisingly underutilized, given that his star was on the ascent.
What made the film especially interesting to me was the
cast. In addition to the stardom-bound Wayne, Frontier Horizon features
the film debut of 20-year-old Phylis Isley. There’s nothing at all notable
about Isley here, in a standard-issue ingenue role; Isley made a couple other
film appearances in 1939, then left the screen for four years.
Sammy McKim, Jennifer Jones
When Isley returned to the movies in 1943, it was under a brand-new name, Jennifer Jones, and she immediately won a Best Actress Oscar for The Song of Bernadette (1943). Jones, of course, went on to a stellar career, with additional notable films including Since You Went Away (1944), Cluny Brown (1946), and Portrait of Jennie (1948), to name just three.
The movie also features 14-year-old Sammy McKim, who was
part of a large family of child actors. McKim left acting in the ’50s, turning
down a role in John Ford’s The Long Gray Line (1955), in order
to take an opportunity to work as an artist at 20th Century-Fox.
Jennifer Jones, John Wayne
In short order McKim moved on to Disney, where he had a long career as an accomplished Imagineer; he was honored as a Disney Legend in 1996. Sammy McKim passed away in 2004, but I had the wonderful opportunity to chat about his career with his son, Matt McKim, at the 2024 Disney D23 Expo. The family celebrated Sammy McKim’s centennial with multiple events in late 2024.
The Frontier Horizon cast also features
Eddy Waller, Jody Gilbert, LeRoy Mason, and Betty Mack. It was filmed by Reggie
Lanning. The screenplay was written by Betty Burbridge and Luci Ward, based on
characters created by William Colt MacDonald.
This film is available on DVD and Blu-ray from the now-defunct Olive Films. I’d recommend anyone interested pick up a copy soon, given that Olive is no longer in business.
…..
Across the Sierras (D. Ross Lederman, 1941)
Across the Sierras
This Bill Elliott film, released by Columbia Pictures, was my favorite of the quartet. It combines well-sketched characters with a substantive, surprisingly tough story written by Paul Franklin. A lot happens in 59 minutes, but there’s also some real depth to it.
Wild Bill Hickok (Elliott) rescues his childhood friend
Larry (Richard Fiske) from a lynch mob, after which the two men arrive in the
community of Arroyo.
Across the Sierras Cast
Hickok plans to settle down as a “peaceable man”
and hopes to convince Larry to do the same, but Larry is swayed by the easy
money that comes from crime. Hickok remains on the side of law and order but
finds it hard to give up his guns, which interferes with his plans to wed
straight-laced Easterner Anne (Luana Walters).
This is a surprisingly brutal film, including the
cold-blooded murder of an older man, an accidental killing, and the wounding of
the film’s comic relief (Dub Taylor) along with the attempted lynching. There
are story elements reminiscent of Owen Wister’s The Virginian, with
Wild Bill’s Easterner sweetheart and “Trampas”-like
“frenemy,” but unlike the original Wister novel, Across the
Sierras builds to a surprisingly bleak ending.
Bill Elliott, Richard Fiske
The movie, which doesn’t really have anything to do with
the Sierras, was filmed by George Meehan, with locations including Columbia
Ranch and Iverson Ranch. I especially appreciated that the filmmakers created a
waterfall for a single sequence shot at Iverson; they went to a lot of effort
in order to create additional visual interest. As a frequent “B”
Western viewer who’s also familiar with many locations, I’ve come to appreciate
things like that!
Bill Elliott, Dick Curtis, Luana Walters
The villain is played by Dick Curtis, one of the founders of Pioneertown, which I wrote about here last month. One of his henchmen was played by LeRoy Mason, who was also a villain in Frontier Horizon. One tends to see the same actors and locations turn up among “B” Westerns, despite their being made by a variety of studios.
It’s a sad side note that some members of this cast died
fairly young. Curtis was only 49 when he passed in 1952, and Walters died at 50
in 1963.
Across the Sierras
Fiske, who effectively plays Elliott’s troubled friend, joined the army in 1942 and was killed in action in France in 1944, age 28. He was posthumously awarded several military honors.
The cast is rounded out by Ruth Robinson and Milt (Milton)
Kibbee, who was the brother of the better-known Guy Kibbee and the father of
Emmy-nominated soap opera star Lois Kibbee.
Across the Sierras is available as part
of a three-film Elliott DVD from Mill Creek.
…..
Boss of Bullion City (Ray Taylor, 1940)
Boss of Bullion City is a
61-minute Johnny Mack Brown Western released by Universal Pictures. Like Frontier
Horizon, there’s a rather unexpected surprise in the supporting cast.
It was also the third film in a row I watched on the trip
which was shot at Iverson Movie Ranch!
Boss of Bullion City
Tom Bryant (Brown) and his pal Burt (Fuzzy Knight) arrive
in Bullion City to start a newspaper. Tom quickly deduces the town sheriff
(Western villain extraordinaire Harry Woods) is behind major thefts in the area
and sets out to stop him.
This is a fun little film, written by Arthur St. Claire and
Victor McLeod from St. Claire’s story, though it has more characters than it
knows what to do with. The film’s main problem is it doesn’t seem to know which
of its ladies should end up with Brown.
Fuzzy Knight, Johnny Mack Brown, Maria Montez
Nell O’Day plays Martha, a spunky Western heroine who can
ride and shoot as well as any man. O’Day, who appeared frequently opposite
Brown, is an engaging leading lady.
The real surprise, though, is the actress who plays Linda,
the daughter of peddler Mike Calhoun (Earle Hodgins): She’s played by future
Universal Pictures adventure film star Maria Montez. Montez was fourth-billed,
in her film debut, and she’s cute pining after Brown.
Nell O’Day, Johnny Mack Brown
Montez was later known as “The Queen of
Technicolor,” but though she was filmed here by William A. Sickner in
black and white, she remains gloriously beautiful. This is also said to have
been the only film in which Montez speaks Spanish, which adds a fun side to her
character.
The cast was rounded out by Kermit Maynard, George Humbert,
Melvin Lang, Estelita Zarco, and the Guadalajara Trio.
Maria Montez, Fuzzy Knight
This film is available on DVD from VCI Entertainment; it’s
part of an eight-film set featuring a variety of Western stars. For those few
still using VHS players (I do!), VCI also put this film out as a single-title
video release.
…..
The Brand of Hate (Lewis D. Collins, 1934)
The final film of this recent batch of movies seen
was The Brand of Hate, a 63-minute Bob Steele Western from Supreme
Pictures.
Young sweethearts Rod (Steele) and Margie (Lucile Browne)
have their plans to wed complicated when her father Joe (William Farnum) has
his outlaw brother Bill (George “Gabby” Hayes) and evil nephews
(James Flavin and Archie Ricks) unexpectedly show up and demand to move in.
The Brand of Hate
Bill and sons are very dangerous — indeed, they shoot
Rod’s father (Charles French) and threaten that Margie will have to marry one
of them — so Margie feigns a lack of interest in Rod in order to keep him out
of harm’s way. But eventually, thanks in part to Margie’s brave little brother
Bud (Mickey Rentschler), Rod learns the truth and sets out to rescue Margie.
Gabby Hayes, Lucile Browne, Bob Steele and cast
The acting in this film, written by Jack Natteford, is
often akin to an old-style melodrama, yet it has a certain charming innocence
which I found quite agreeable. Steele and Browne are sweet together, and I
really appreciated Steele’s athleticism. It’s great fun simply watching him
mount a horse! I think he may have done some of his own stunts.
James Flavin, Bob Steele
Ironically, leading lady Browne had married Flavin, who
plays one of the villains menacing her, the year before this film was released.
They were wed until Flavin’s death in 1976.
Lucile Browne, Bob Steele
The movie was filmed by William Thompson. References
indicate it was shot in Lone Pine, but my husband and I didn’t recognize any of
the film’s locations as being from that area, which we know well. We also
couldn’t figure out where it was actually shot!
The Brand of Hate
The Brand of Hate is available on DVD
from VCI Entertainment, released as part of a four-film Bob Steele collection.
…..
It’s hard to believe, but this month marks my seventh anniversary writing the Western RoundUp column here at Classic Movie Hub. I continue to be deeply appreciative of the opportunity to share my love for all things related to Western movies here, and my thanks to all who read and comment!
…
– 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.
What Makes a Classic Movie Classic? Inquiring Minds Want to Know
I’m so excited to share this podcast episode with you all! I was honored to be a Special Guest on the We Need 2 Talk podcast where we chatted about — you guessed it — classic movies!
Podcast hosts Kristy & K made me feel so welcome and so at home! Even though it was our first meeting, it was like catching up with old friends. I had such a blast chatting with them — and yes, I even got to quiz them on (drum roll please) their classic movie knowledge!
About the We Need 2 Talk Podcast: Kristy & K are two best friends who never see each other and get together every Sunday to talk about TV, Pop Culture and Life.
A Big Thank You to Kristy and K — and Producer Ed!
I may have mentioned this around these parts before, but
there are few things more frustrating to a classic film lover than to read a
glowing recommendation about a movie that they’re unable to find. Well, the
Noir Nook doesn’t go for frustration, so this month, I’m serving up four
first-rate, lesser-known noirs for you to check out – and you can see them on
YouTube . . . for free, even!
…..
Cry Vengeance (1954)
Cry Vengeance, Martha Hyer and Mark Stevens
Mark Stevens (who you might recognize from films like The
Dark Corner [1946] with Lucille Ball, or the Olivia DeHavilland vehicle, The
Snake Pit [1948]) stars in this feature as ex-cop Vic Barron, who has
recently been released from San Quentin after a three-year stretch for bribery.
He instantly heads for Ketchikan, Alaska, bent on revenge against Tino Morelli
(Douglas Kennedy), the mobster Vic thinks framed him and planted the bomb that
disfigured Vic and killed his wife and daughter. What Vic doesn’t know is that
he’s barking up the wrong crook – the real culprit is a hood named Roxey
(played by the endlessly oily Skip Homeier), who trails Vic to Alaska with a
diabolical plan to put him away for good.
Stevens made his directorial debut with this feature – he
would go on to helm films like the time-worthy Time Table (1956), and
episodes of television shows including Studio 57 and Wagon Train.
In Cry Vengeance he turns in a versatile and touching performance of a
man tortured by the tragedies of his past and twisted by the vendetta that
threatens to destroy his future.
…..
Shakedown (1950)
Shakedown, Howard Duff and Lawrence Tierney
I’ve had an all but unwatchable VHS copy of Shakedown in
my collection for several decades, so you can imagine my delight when I
discovered a first-rate print on You Tube. In this well-done feature, Howard
Duff is a positive stinker as talented but completely unscrupulous photographer
Jack Early. When he parlays his dodgy penchant for “just happening to pass by”
noteworthy events into a newspaper job, Early’s quest for fame and fortune
kicks into overdrive – but he gets far more than he bargained for when he
befriends mobster Nick Palmer (Brian Donlevy) and becomes involved with
Palmer’s rival Harry Coulton (Lawrence Tierney).
After seeing Howard Duff in slightly more upstanding roles
in noirs like Brute Force (1947) and Private Hell 36 (1954), it
was a bit of a shock to watch him play such an absolute heel, but he was
perfect for the part; his pleasantly handsome face and trustworthy demeanor
provided the ideal mask for the corruption beneath. And the film was directed
with skill by actor-turned-director Joseph Pevney in his first time behind the
camera, resulting in a well-paced feature and an ironic ending worthy of Alfred
Hitchcock Presents.
…..
House of Strangers (1949)
House of Strangers, Richard Conte
With a cast headed up by Richard Conte, Susan Hayward, and
Edward G. Robinson, and direction by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, House of
Strangers is a don’t-miss. It doesn’t contain such familiar noir
characteristics as voiceover narration, or a knucklehead everyman done in by a
femme fatale – for that matter, there’s no femme fatale at all – but it’s got
enough cynicism, desperation, and bad choices to satisfy any shadowy sweet
tooth. The story focuses on Conte’s character, Max Monetti, who, at the film’s
start, has just been released from prison after serving seven years. We learn all
about Max and his family, and the reason for his incarceration, in the film’s
flashback – the Monetti clan includes patriarch Gino (Robinson), a prominent
bank owner with an inclination toward illegal business practices, and four
sons, of which Max is clearly Gino’s favorite. When Gino is arrested for his unconventional
banking policies, three of his sons turn on him, Max winds up in prison for his
efforts to save him – and Max emerges from his confinement with a determination
to pay his brothers back in spades for their disloyalty.
House of Strangers is brimming with memorable
characters and standout performances – Robinson is excellent as the headstrong
family head; Conte’s vengeful ex-convict is cold as frozen steel – and just as
hard; and Hayward plays Max’s plain-speaking, long-suffering lover, who tries
to talk him out of his plans for revenge.
…..
Wicked Woman (1953)
Wicked Woman, Richard Egan and Beverly Michaels
One of my absolute favorite low-budget noirs, Wicked
Woman stars Beverly Michaels as Billie Nash, who seems to exist by
wandering from place to place, finding whatever employment she can, and
sponging off as many gullible fellas as possible before moving on again. When
the film opens, she’s just arrived in some nameless town, and before long,
she’s living in a rundown (but respectable, mind you) rooming house and working
at a local tavern run by Matt Bannister (Richard Egan) and his dipsomaniac
wife, Dora (Evelyn Scott). In the blink of an eye, she’s attracted Matt’s
attentions, along with those of creepy Charlie Borg (Percy Helton), who lives
across the hall in the rooming house and would do almost anything to spend time
with Billie (from giving her his newly cooked dinner, to altering her clothes,
to “loaning” her money, with collateral being the promise of a date on her
night off). The film’s action revolves around the relationship between Billie
and Matt, her fantasies of “dancing and making love and being serenaded” in
Mexico, and just how far she’s willing to go to make her dreams a reality.
Billie is not your normal, garden-variety femme fatale, in
the tradition of the Phyllis Dietrichsons and Kathie Moffats of the world. She’s
not polished, or even overly calculating – she’s just getting by the best way
she can. She unwinds from the stresses of life with cigarettes and a swig of
gin, her astrology magazine, and her favorite record played on her portable
wind-up phonograph. There’s no next week for Billie – there’s barely a
tomorrow; her plans are for right now, and whatever she needs to do to get her
through right now, she’ll do it. (And if that means stealing your man, well . .
. that’s the way the cookie crumbles.)
I hope you’ll check out these four YouTube freebies – you’ll be glad you did!
…
– 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:
Spending Quiet Time with ‘The Earth Dies Screaming’
In a quaint English village, people are sitting in a parlor by the fire doing what proper Brits do: elegantly smoking and drinking tea. It’s all so genteel inside, yet outside the situation is dire as “The Earth Dies Screaming.”
That’s the excellent name of a 1964 film that is much
quieter than the title promises. Directed by Terence Fisher, this non-Hammer
film is a taut sci-fi thriller that clocks in at a crisp 62 minutes.
It gets right down to business by putting viewers directly in the middle of some strange happenings without introduction: a train going off its track, a car crashing into a brick wall, people dropping to the ground.
Add an ominous pall to the usually postcard- perfect English village thanks to the black and white photography, then throw in a few lifeless bodies strewn about and it’s eerie and quiet. Something is very wrong.
If you see these guys, don’t shake their hand in The Earth Dies Screaming.
A car pulls into the village driven a sturdy looking man with a rifle. He stops at a deserted shop and takes a radio, but leaves everything else. This guy has scruples. Meet American test pilot Jeff (played by Willard Parker) who’s such a sensitive bloke he picks a dead bird up off the ground and gently moves it to where it won’t get stepped on.
In a nearby inn (it’s too homey to be called a hotel), Jeff’s uneasy solace is interrupted by the arrival of Quinn Taggart (played by Dennis Price) and Peggy (Virginia Field).
There’s something unsettling about Taggart who immediately pulls out a gun so tiny it looks like a toy. (I snickered, but it does work on the bad guys.)
A small band of survivors deal with an apocalyptic mystery in The Earth Dies Screaming. Pictured are, from left, Dennis Price, Virginia Field and Willard Parker.
“None of us know who our friends are,” Taggart says as his excuse. He has a point – this is the first time they are seeing another person alive since “the event.”
Soon they’re joined by Ed Otis (Thorley Walters) and his wife Violet (Vanda Godsell) dressed in evening attire for his office party. They’re quite hospitable even if Ed drinks quite a bit to soothe his nerves.
So now there are five people in the inn trying to figure out what happened. There’s nothing on TV or radio, just an odd hum that modern viewers will know is not good (cue the aliens).
Jeff quickly becomes the voice of reason and the one who
will help the story move along as he realizes there’s a connection between the
survivors.
He was in the air when the disturbance happened before landing to find everyone dead. Peggy was in an oxygen tent at a hospital. Ed and Violet spent the night in a laboratory at the office to play kissy face away from the party. Where was Taggart? He deftly changes the subject and doesn’t answer. (But where was he? I want to know what he’s all about. There are a few loose ends in his story which makes me wonder if some of his scenes were cut for time.)
A young couple (the future of the world?) arrive in a desolate village in The Earth Dies Screaming. Pictured are Willard Parker, left, Anna Palk and David Spenser.
They come up with the reasonable explanation that there was a gas attack. Any doubts about that theory vanish with the arrival of a young couple who are so broke that they spent the previous night in an abandoned air raid shelter. (I did not make that up.) Mel (played by David Spenser) is a “cheeky kid” who will grow on you, and sweet Lorna (Anna Palk) is very pregnant and wants to get to her mother’s house before she gives birth.
Finally we get a clue about what’s going when two figures in “space suits” are spotted out the window and mistaken for soldiers by one of our new friends. These tin foil-suited figures slowly walk and appear to be in a zombie-like state, but they have some sort of death touch that creates eyeless creatures who also act, well, like zombies.
Is it a zombie apocalypse, an alien invasion or both in The Earth Dies Screaming?
But this isn’t a zombie apocalypse via “The Walking Dead.” These guys are slower than molasses, easy to hide from and you can even outrun them. Just wait until they are only steps away from humans and there’s still enough time to sit and have a cup of tea. (Then again, the humans often just stand there, so it’s anyone’s guess on who will move first.)
Since Jeff has scientific training and can work his way around radios and transmitters, he hatches a plan after he realizes what we, the viewers, knew all along: that sound on the radio was an alien rallying cry!
Not a lot happens in this film plot wise, but Terence Fisher layers short, tense moments to keep the film moving and the viewer on edge in quiet moments.
He plays the inn like a haunted house mystery where characters skulk about at night making the viewer question what they’re doing. Even getting a glass of milk is suspicious.
Fisher takes advantage of the fact that our humans create a lot of self-inflicted problems by leaving doors open, lights on and making loud noises like beeping the car horn. (Then there’s the clip-clopping of high heels.) All of that would get you killed in a real alien or zombie apocalypse, but Fisher uses it to build his tension.
Let’s turn the kitchen lights on so it’s easy for the bad guys to see us.
In one scene, lights are turned on in the kitchen, giving a foil-wrapped alien a clear view of the human inside. What will happen?
Later, a character hides in a closet (never a good choice) from an alien who reacts in a strange way that again allows the tension to mount.
And a corpse rising from beneath a sheet is one of those “what’s going on moments?” that should make the viewer and characters scream.
Oh wait, there’s a baby to be born, too.
Can you ever really live up to a fantastic title like The Earth Dies Screaming? Probably not. But the film’s compact run time and Fisher’s deft direction make it well worth watching. Heck, at 62 minutes you’ll have time to see it twice.
TRIVIA
Off-screen romance: Virginia Field and Dennis Parker were
married in real-life from 1951 to 1992 when she died, which explains the easy
chemistry between them on screen.
Setting and
music: It was filmed at
Shepperton Studios, with location shooting in the village of Shere in Surrey. One
of the buildings is the Manor House Lodge, designed by the father of the film’s
composer Elisabeth Lutyens. Her avant-garde scores were heard in multiple 1960s
British horror films including some for Hammer and Amicus like Dr. Terror’s
House of Horrors, Terrornauts and The Skull.
New studio: In the 1960s, Fisher made a few movies outside of Hammer studios including The Horror of It All (1963) with Pat Boone and The Earth Dies Screaming both for the American film and distribution company Lippert Pictures. Fisher did direct other films for Hammer in the ‘60s including the great The Gorgon(my favorite) and Dracula: Prince of Darkness.
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 and Bluesky at @watchingforever.bsky.social
Time looms
over us all, but not as literally as it does over Ray Milland in director John
Farrow’s fascinating noir, The Big Clock (1948), which features Milland
as a magazine editor framed for murder by his powerful tycoon boss. With its
emphasis on the grinding power of clocks and time over corporate life, this
film noir reminds us that even the best paid rats are still racing as fast as
they can, and escape from the rat race isn’t easy to achieve. In addition to
Milland, The Big Clock features memorable performances from Charles
Laughton, Maureen O’Sullivan, Elsa Lanchester, George Macready, and a menacing
Harry Morgan, so it’s truly a star-studded affair, but Milland’s performance as
the beleaguered protagonist is definitely the main attraction.
George Stroud (Ray Milland) finds it very hard to leave the employment of Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton).
Milland
leads as George Stroud, the editor of a crime magazine owned by publishing
mogul Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton). George’s marriage to Georgette (Maureen
O’Sullivan) is suffering because of his relentless work schedule, but when
George quits his boss suddenly reels him back in to investigate a mystery man
Janoth wants to frame for a murder the tycoon himself actually committed. Much
to his wife’s frustration, George accepts the assignment, not because he wants
the job but because George is the mystery man Janoth intends to blame for the
killing.
Harry Morgan plays Janoth’s silent but menacing flunky.
The
narrative structure of The Big Clock parallels that of John Farrow’s
other noir films, Night Has a Thousand Eyes (1948) and Alias Nick
Beal (1949), with all three movies opening at the start of the third act and
our protagonists in peril. We’re introduced to George as he hides inside the
titular clock from armed guards who have orders to shoot on sight. George then
recounts the events that led him to this dangerous situation. It’s an effective
strategy, but if you watch all three movies together (as I did), you really
notice its repeated use. When George takes us back to the beginning, we learn
that he stumbles into this predicament thanks to a chance meeting with Janoth’s
ex-girlfriend, Pauline (Rita Johnson). George, having quit his job but still in
trouble with his wife for missing their train out of town, goes on a bender
with Pauline and then departs to join Georgette on their long-delayed
honeymoon. Unfortunately for George, his boozy evening with Pauline makes him a
perfect fall guy when Janoth kills her, so George is forced to pretend to look
for himself while simultaneously trying to keep his team from actually
identifying him. I don’t want to provide too many spoilers here, but with the
opening it’s obvious that George is on the run for a crime he didn’t commit,
and the suspense hinges on whether the clever crime editor can free himself
from his employer’s lethal trap.
For all his power, Janoth is terrified of being found out as the murderer.
An
excellent cast keeps the characters interesting even as we question some of
their motives. Having won an Oscar for his alcoholic protagonist in The Last
Weekend (1945), Ray Milland carries the drinking scenes with ease, and
while George Stroud isn’t a villain, Milland’s ability to play one in films
like So Evil My Love (1948), Dial M for Murder (1954), and Alias
Nick Beal brings moral ambiguity to a character who could have been too
squeaky clean with another actor in the role. Charles Laughton, always great, here
leans into one of his subtler villain roles, saving his bursts of violence and
temper for the moments when they really count. John Farrow’s wife, Maureen O’Sullivan,
has a decent role as the increasingly irritated Georgette, but it’s Laughton’s
spouse, the brilliant Elsa Lanchester, who steals every scene as the eccentric
painter, Louise Patterson. George Macready plays Janoth’s devoted assistant as
a suitably slippery character, but Harry Morgan makes an even greater
impression without saying word as Janoth’s silently menacing underling. Morgan
seems to be channeling Elisha Cook, Jr. from The Maltese Falcon (1941) with
his intense, unhinged stare and propensity for violence, and he’s great fun to
watch.
George and his employer do not part on friendly terms.
For even more noir films directed by John Farrow, see Where Danger Lives (1950) and His Kind of Woman (1951). Ray Milland and Rita Johnson also appear together in the Billy Wilder comedy, The Major and the Minor (1942), while Charles Laughton plays Maureen O’Sullivan’s domineering father in The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934). Laughton and Lanchester appear in six other films together, most notably The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), Rembrandt (1936), and Witness for the Prosecution (1957). For even more of Ray Milland, see The Uninvited (1944), Ministry of Fear (1944), and Rhubarb (1951).
Helen Chandler was born on February 1, 1909, in New York,
New York, to Leland and Frances Chandler. Across different census records and
documents, her year of birth, however, has been widely disputed, documented as
1906, 1909, and 1911. Her father worked as a salesman and club manager and her
mother was a housewife, raising two children: Helen and Leland Jr.
Chandler’s mother wanted her children to have careers as
actors. As a result, Chandler attended the Professional Children’s School in
New York before making her Broadway debut in 1918 at the Globe Theatre in Penrod. She frequently appeared in
various renditions of Shakespeare’s tragedies.
After appearing in over twenty Broadway plays, she made her
film debut in The Music Master (1927).
She also performed alongside the likes of Leslie Howard and Douglas Fairbanks
Jr., in Outward Bound (1930).
Chandler received critical praise for her performances and continued her film
career with The Last Flight (1931), Vanity Street (1932), and Christopher Strong (1933). At the same
time, she made frequent appearances on the radio and in stage performances in
Los Angeles, New York, and abroad in London. Despite many more performances in
films, her best-remembered role is that of Mina in Dracula (1931).
Helen Chandler, Dracula
In the late 1930s, Chandler struggled with alcoholism and a
reliance on sleeping pills as her acting roles waned. This also led to several
instances in which she was hospitalized and committed to a sanitarium.
Chandler was married a total of three times. In 1930,
Chandler married writer Cyril Hume. They divorced in 1934. Her next marriage
was to actor Bramwell Fletcher in 1935, which ended in a 1940 divorce. Her
final marriage was to merchant seaman Walter Piascik, which lasted from 1943
until her passing.
In 1950, Chandler fell asleep while smoking in her
apartment, leading to a devastating fire that left her disfigured. Her issues
with alcoholism became much worse from this point on as she navigated this
difficult period.
Chandler passed away on April 30, 1965, after a surgery. Per
her wishes, she was cremated. Her initial inurnment site was a private vault at
Chapel of the Pines Crematory in Los Angeles, California. After a major
fundraising effort led by Jessica Wahl and Arthur Dark and permission from her
surviving family, Chandler’s ashes were relocated to the Cathedral Mausoleum at
Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Los Angeles on July 13, 2023, where they can be
viewed by the public.
In 1920, Chandler and her family resided at 1306 Nicholas
Ave., New York, New York. This apartment building stands today.
1306 Nicholas Ave., NYC
In 1930, she and Hume lived at 331 22nd St.,
Santa Monica, California. In 1940, she and Fletcher lived at 2 E. 56th
St., New York, New York. Both of these buildings have since been razed.
Chandler and Fletcher were married at Riverside Church in
1935, which stands at 490 Riverside Dr., New York, New York.
Riverside Church, NYC
In 1950, Chandler and Piascik resided at 223 ½ Santa Anita
Ct., Sierra Madre, California. This home also stands.
223 ½ Santa Anita Ct., Sierra Madre, CA
Of course, the strongest testament to her legacy is her new resting place, courtesy of her fans. Today, visitors can pay their respects to her at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.
As
longtime readers of this column will be aware, one of my favorite pastimes is
to visit Western film locations.
I recently had the opportunity to visit Pioneertown,
located in California’s Yucca Valley, roughly 16 miles from Joshua Tree
National Park.
Pioneertown is similar to Corriganville, which I wrote about here in 2021, in that it was built specifically for the filming of movies.
Today it remains open as a tourist attraction and
occasional movie location, and it’s also home for a few hundred people.
A notable former citizen of this small community was
singer-actress Nancy Wilson, who died at her Pioneertown home in 2018, at the
age of 81.
Nancy Wilson
Pioneertown was established in 1946. Founding investors from the movie industry included Dick Curtis, Russell Hayden (“Lucky” of the Hopalong Cassidy movies), Roy Rogers, and the Sons of the Pioneers.
Actors George Tobias, David Bruce, and Adele Mara were among those who attended the groundbreaking ceremony in September 1946, along with the investors. There’s a photo of the group at the Pioneertown official website.
Pioneertown was planned as a place within easy driving
distance of both Los Angeles and Palm Springs, providing everything needed for
movie productions and their casts and crews.
Bowling Alley
There was a store, restaurant, beauty shop, and newspaper.
The town even included a bowling alley, seen above and below, which was enjoyed
by Roy Rogers, who was a skilled bowler. Some readers “of a certain
age” may remember Rogers appearing on the TV show Celebrity
Bowling in the ’70s.
The original plan was to call the community Rogersville
after Rogers, but when his former singing group, the Sons of the Pioneers,
recorded a promotional song called “Out in Pioneertown,” it received
its permanent name.
Over the years many Gene Autry and Cisco Kid movies were
filmed at Pioneertown, along with non-Western films including The
Capture (1950) with Lew Ayres and Teresa Wright and Jeopardy (1953)
with Barbara Stanwyck and Barry Sullivan.
As Western film production became less frequent in the
’50s, numerous TV Westerns shot there, including Gene Autry productions such
as The Gene Autry Show and Annie Oakley. Autry
himself spent a great deal of time in Palm Springs, where he had various
business interests; Pioneertown is roughly 35 miles away.
A small film museum documents some of the productions shot
in Pioneertown over the years.
There’s a small amount of memorabilia in the museum; it’s
chiefly filled with vintage movie posters.
I wrote about Gene Autry’s The Cowboy and the Indians (1949) here in 2018 and again more recently. I was especially enthused about seeing one of that film’s locations in person.
The town’s main street was dubbed Mane Street. Here are
views looking two different directions.
Mane Street is still home to a number of buildings which
once doubled as movie sets.
Church
Feed
Gazette
Land Company
Livery Stable
While an ice cream parlor and grocery store are no longer
there, there’s a still-functioning United States Post Office.
A marker in front of the post office says it’s “said
to be the most photographed post office in the entire United States.”
There’s also a small motel.
Before leaving we ate lunch at the barbecue restaurant
Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace, which is also a concert venue. I was
amazed to learn that the artists who’ve performed there have included Paul
McCartney, who gave a concert in 2016.
In the restaurant lobby my eye was caught by an autographed photo of Pioneertown investors the Sons of the Pioneers, who appeared in many movies. That’s one-time group member Ken Curtis, later known as Festus on TV’s Gunsmoke, at the top center.
Sons of the Pioneers
Pioneertown can be seen end to end, including a stop for
lunch, in two or three leisurely hours. The town occasionally hosts events such
as craft fairs and cookie contests. It’s an interesting and informative stop,
especially for those who love Western film history.
The photographs accompanying this article are from the author’s personal collection.
…
– 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.
Of the many talented and charismatic 1920s
female stars, there were perhaps few who inspired such rapturous fan magazine
articles as Greta Garbo. Motion Picture
Magazine once declared: “Everyone feels, without being able to explain
the fact, that this slim girl is one of the children of Destiny–as definitely
precious as a piece of pale green jade.” Picture-Play Magazine likewise gushed: “Her first appearance
on the screen struck lightning into the public’s heart.” And one
particularly insightful Screenland essay
said: “Her appeal is not direct, like that of an Anita Page or a Mary
Pickford; it is subtle, evasive, often unexpected…Most actresses have what we
might call one face. Greta Garbo is a woman of a thousand faces.”
And there were perhaps even fewer actresses
who became full-fledged icons as quickly and as decisively as Garbo. Even today
it’s not hard to see why: amid all the flappers, ingenues, and motherly types
filling the screens, suddenly here was this sleek woman of mystery with almost
ridiculously perfect Nordic features. And if that weren’t enough for the
public, talkies soon revealed a husky voice with a thrillingly heavy accent.
Garbo was born Greta Gustafsson (a very common
Swedish surname) in Stockholm, Sweden in 1905. Her family lived in a dreary
working-class neighborhood and her father worked various low-paying jobs until
passing away from the Spanish flu in 1920. Young Greta disliked school and
decided not to attend highschool, working jobs at a barber shop and a
department store instead.
Her natural beauty and experience as a shop
girl led to modelling hats and clothes for mail-order catalogues, and she also
started appearing in commercial films. Greta had loved acting from a young age,
so after playing a part in the comedy short Peter
the Tramp (1922) she decided to quit her job and join the Royal Dramatic
Theatre Academy in Stockholm.
During her time at the school she was spotted
by acclaimed Swedish director Maurice Stiller, who invited her to do a screen
test for The Saga of Gösta Berling (1924).
He quickly cast her as one of the leads–her first featured role–and she signed
a contract with Svensk Filmindustri. It was around this time that Stiller also
suggested that Greta change her name to something “modern and elegant and
international.” While stories behind its creation differ, “Greta Garbo” was the
catchy result.
Greta Garbo and Gerda Lundequist in The Saga of Gösta Berling (1924)
Stiller’s lofty reputation led to a contract
offer from MGM, which he accepted, bringing Garbo along. While Stiller tussled
with MGM over which picture to make, Garbo acted opposite Ricardo Cortez in Torrent (1926). Her performance won a
lot of praise, leading to her second starring Hollywood role in The Temptress (1926), initially directed
by Stiller. Stiller did not adapt well to MGM’s production methods, however,
and was let go. But Garbo stayed on, and when The Temptress hit theaters the delicately expressive actress with
an air of mystery was quickly deemed MGM’s newest star.
For the next few years Garbo would star in hit
after hit, starting with the sumptuous romantic drama Flesh and the Devil (1926) co-starring fellow MGM star John
Gilbert. Garbo warmed to the handsome, charming Gilbert right away and the two
struck up a real-life romance during the filming. Their love scenes on the
screen are still smouldering today, their charisma practically jumping off the
screen. Garbo’s cool, alluring performance made Photoplay enthuse: “Greta Garbo has established herself on the
screen in more sensational fashion than any other player since Rudolph
Valentino blazed out of The Four Horsemen.”
Greta Garbo and John Gilbert in Flesh and the Devil (1926)
Despite Garbo’s status as a top box office
draw, MGM was nervous to put her in talkies and delayed it as long as possible.
They finally mustered up the courage to star her in the talkie Anna Christie (1930), going heavy on the
“Garbo Talks!” advertising angle. Her deep, accented voice divided viewers at
first, but in time it would become as iconic as her face–especially when she
delivered her iconic line from Grand
Hotel (1932): “I want to be alone…”
In real life, that iconic line could’ve been
Garbo’s personal slogan. Her air of mystery wasn’t mere posturing for the
screen–not for nothing did writers dub her “The Swedish Sphinx.” As a child she
had often preferred to play alone, and as a world-famous adult her desire for
privacy only seemed to deepen. She shunned movie premieres and award
ceremonies, rarely gave interviews, and didn’t seek the attention of fans. Even
her personal style was lowkey, favoring mannish shoes and trousers, trench
coats, and slouch fedora hats, which in time were dubbed “Garbo hats.”
For much of the 1930s Garbo continued to star
in hit films, some of her biggest successes being Mata Hari (1931), Queen
Christina (1933) and Camille (1936).
But after the box office failure of the historical drama Conquest (1937), MGM tried a new tack and starred her in the comedy
Ninotchka (1939), with ads
proclaiming “Garbo Laughs!” While Ninotchka
did significantly better, the followup film Two-Faced Woman (1941) received scathing reviews. While Garbo
intended to make more pictures the projects that interested her kept falling
through. As it turned out, Two-Faced
Woman was her final film.
After retirement Garbo would retreat to the
privacy and solitude she had so consistently preferred. She sometimes enjoyed
the company of close friends, but she never married or had children (although
she came close to going to the altar with John Gilbert). After becoming a U.S.
citizen in 1951 she moved into an elegant Manhattan apartment with views of the
East River, where she lived until her death in 1990. Her legacy as one of
Hollywood’s greatest stars remains unshakeable–and so does her mystique.
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.
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