Robert Griswold Rockwell was a popular actor on stage, film,
radio, and television. He was born on October 15, 1920, in Chicago, Illinois,
and raised in Lake Bluff, Illinois. His parents were Harold and Margaret
Rockwell. Rockwell also had two sisters: Mary and Georgia.
Rockwell expressed an interest in the performing arts,
studying at the Pasadena Playhouse and earning his master’s degree.
As the years went on, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy, where he
served for four years in Washington, D.C. He returned to acting and secured
roles as a contract player at Republic Studios. He appeared on various
television shows and on the stage, from uncredited to title roles as well as
voiceover work.
In 1942, Rockwell married Elizabeth Anne “Betts” Weiss, also
occasionally referred to as “Betty Anne,” with whom he had five children:
Susan, Robert, Jeffrey, Gregory, and Alison. They two met when Weiss was
studying costume design at the Pasadena Playhouse. The couple eventually
relocated to Pacific Palisades when they were expecting their fifth child. They
remained married until his passing in 2003.
Rockwell’s most notable role was as biology teacher Philip Boynton, succeeding Jeff Chandler as the character in the radio, television, and film iterations of Our Miss Brooks(1956). He was also a founding member of the California Artists Radio Theatre, in addition to pursuing work beyond his radio roles.
Robert Rockwell and Eve Arden in Our Miss Brooks (1956)
Because Rockwell became so identified with the Boynton
character in the Our Miss Brooks comedy
series, attaining dramatic roles was more difficult. Nonetheless, he would
appear in television programs such as Perry
Mason and Gunsmoke in addition to
starring in the western-themed series, The
Man from Blackhawk. His television appearances continued with guest roles
as well as working in advertisements; in particular, he could be spotted in the
1995 Werthers Original commercial, portraying a grandfather treating his
grandson to the candy.
Off-screen, Rockwell and his wife were very much involved
with their community. They hosted ice cream sundae socials for their friends
and family at their home in Pacific Palisades, California. Rockwell also worked
as one of the coaches for the Redbirds little league baseball team, which was
part of the Palisades Recreation Center.
Once Rockwell’s children grew up and began to establish
their lives in Southern California and beyond, Rockwell and his wife moved to
Malibu. Weiss dreamed of living in a home that looked out on the ocean. She
maintained the residence until her passing in 2019.
Rockwell, older
Rockwell passed away on January 25, 2003, in Malibu,
California, from cancer. He was 82 years old.
In 1920, Rockwell’s family lived at 115 Center St., Lake
Bluff, Illinois. The home stands today.
115 Center St., Lake Bluff, Illinois
In 1930, Rockwell’s family relocated to 230 Evanston Ave.,
Lake Bluff, Illinois. This home has since been razed.
In 1947, Rockwell and his wife lived at 94 N. Raymond Ave.,
Pasadena, California. This home remains.
94 N. Raymond Ave., Pasadena, California
In 1950, Rockwell’s family moved to 13971 Peach Grove Ln.,
Sherman Oaks, California. This home also remains.
13971 Peach Grove Ln., Sherman Oaks, California
By 1960, Rockwell and his family resided at 650 Toyopa Dr.,
Pacific Palisades, California. This home no longer stands.
Rockwell and his wife also resided at 18428 Coastline Dr.,
Malibu, California. This home remains.
18428 Coastline Dr., Malibu, California
The Pasadena Playhouse remains at 39 S. El Molino Ave.,
Pasadena, California.
The Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena, California
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.
A Killer Gaze: Richard Burton and his ‘Medusa Touch’
A severely beaten man who has survived a heinous assault is
unconscious in a London hospital.
His head and face are wrapped in bandages with only his eyes (a key thing) and mouth visible. The heart monitor near his bed is flatlined, but inexplicably there is a small blip of brain activity. He isn’t dead – but is he alive?
As the 1978 British film The Medusa Touch unfolds over the next 100 minutes, that blip will grow in speed and size, increasing in intensity and pulling the viewer to the edge of their seat. At least that’s how I felt recently watching this thriller starring Richard Burton as a troubled man who believes he can kill with his mind.
The intensity of Richard Burton – and his eyes – cuts through the screen in The Medusa Touch.
The film summary – A French detective in London reconstructs the life of a man lying in hospital with severe injuries with the help of journals and a psychiatrist – made me believe I would be watching a simple mystery, but I got more.
The title also references one of my favorite monsters, Medusa, the mythological creature who turned people into stone with one look. I wondered how that played into the film and, of course, I hoped the creature would show up in some way, as implausible as that felt. (Technically she did appear, but as a piece of art.)
It turns out that The Medusa Touch is an intriguing combination of mystery thriller and telekinetic horror film. When one of the characters utters the simple line “For a moment, I turned to stone,” it is definitely chilling.
While Brian DePalma’s excellent 1978 film The Fury remains tops in this genre, The Medusa Touch is an interesting and nicely done movie with nifty special effects. (Wait until the nearly 10-minute scene of death and destruction at the end.) It appears to have fallen under the radar over the past 40-plus years, but certainly deserves a new look. Honestly, it’s worth watching (and listening) to see Burton – who makes the most of his somewhat limited screen time – along with Lee Remick, French/Italian actor Lino Ventura (The Valachi Papers) and a supporting cast that includes Harry Andrews, Jeremy Brett and Derek Jacobi.
This fantastic image from The Medusa Touch illustrates how the life of comatose writer John Morlar (played by Richard Burton) is told through flashbacks from conversations between his psychiatrist Dr. Zonfeld (Lee Remick) and Inspector Brunel (Lino Ventura).
* * * * *
The Medusa Touch opens with a television broadcast of
the impending disaster of the Achilles 6, a U.S. mission for the first
permanent station on the moon. We only see the back of the person watching in a
dark room, but we know it’s Burton. He plays John Morlar, a writer of novels
and poetry that are darkly poetic, often angry and filled with bombast.
There’s a knock at the unlocked door.
“Thought you’d come,” he says without turning around.
The unseen visitor violently spins his chair so they face each other.
“Ah, response at last,” Morlar says before a statue is smashed against his head, again and again, blood splatters on the TV screen.
Caravaggio’s painting of Medusa is on the wall of a writer who survives a vicious beating in The Medusa Touch making viewers wonder what it means.
As the opening credits begin, the camera focuses on the Medusa shield on the wall that captures her moment of death: snakes for hair, a scream of horror forever etched on her face, blood at the base of her decapitated head. Finally Medusa’s image dissolves into Burton’s face. Director Jack Gold is making a statement.
Detectives arrive, led by dour French inspector Monsieur
Brunel (Lino Ventura) who is in London as part of an exchange program. (We’ll
warm up to him.) All are sickened by the sight of the body on the floor. “Talk
about beating somebody’s brains out,” one says. We don’t see the face – the
director shoots the scene with the head cleverly hidden behind a chair – but we
get the point.
Inspector Brunel reads one of Morlar’s journals that holds pages of neatly printed poems, rants and mysterious words:
No sign of L
Zonfeld
The West Front
What does it mean? The mystery kicks in.
After examining the crime scene and questioning a neighbor, they return to Morlar’s apartment where the inspector reads more poetry. (The film has a passion for words, and I appreciate that.)
“There are more tears than smiles, there is more sea than earth One day, the insupportable grief of mankind will seep over the land and an ark will float on that liquid expression of misery.”
It’s a glimpse into a man’s soul, but we don’t have time to reflect
because the sound of heavy breathing intrudes.
Our corpse is alive. It’s a miracle.
* * * * *
A doctor has no answers for the increasing brain activity of man without a heartbeat in The Medusa Touch.
Morlar barely shows signs of life at the hospital which is also where victims of a nearby jumbo jet crash were taken. (Coincidence?) We’ll return to his room throughout the film, but the only change is the unnerving bleeps from a machine that shows his increasing brain activity, while another doesn’t register a heartbeat. “You’re looking a mind determined not to die,” the doctor chillingly says.
We get to know Morlar through his journals and flashbacks. Providing much insight into this complicated man is the Zonfeld mentioned in his journal. That’s Dr. Zonfeld, his psychiatrist, who is played by Lee Remick with her startling blue eyes that have their own role to play.
The film drills deep into the ideas that eyes are not only the windows to the soul, but also are Medusa’s power source. The camera, then, loves to focus on the eyes and with Remick and Burton having similar coloring, their connection is unmistakable.
Even as a child, John Morlar (played here by Joseph Clark) had powerful eyes.
People also fear Morlar’s eyes.
“Have you seen Morlar’s eyes?” neighbor Pennington asks the
inspector. “The church says there are demons in some people and there are.”
As a law student, Morlar is described as withdrawn and
someone who had “The most disconcerting eyes. One could never return his gaze
in conversation.” Creepy.
Flashbacks let us eavesdrop on sessions between Zonfeld and Morlar, where we hear about his “gift for disaster” and how trying to convince him they are simply delusions or a series of coincidences only make him angrier.
“It’s not coincidence, it’s me,” Morlar forcefully insists, quickly telling the doctor “You spend most of your time dragging people out of hell, yet you refuse to recognize the devil.”
John Morlar (played by Richard Burton) desperately pleads with his psychiatrist (Lee Remick) to believe he can kill people with his mind in The Medusa Touch.
This is a man haunted by tragedies that he feels so deeply responsible for that he collects newspaper clippings in an oversized scrapbook: Floods, tornadoes, earthquakes, massacres, riots, killings, murders, air crashes, famine.
He recounts the many people who died in his life: His childhood nanny who terrified him with her tales of brimstone, fire and hell; his cruel and bullying mother and milquetoast father who also met with accidental deaths, as did the cruel headmaster at his school. Then there’s his neighbor’s wife. Though Morlar says he didn’t physically kill them, he vehemently believes he willed them to die.
Listening to Burton spew Morlar’s beliefs and anger in that powerful voice is wonderful. “I made it happen, I commanded it to happened,” he bellows. (This film would not have been the same without Burton.)
He shares his anger about the world – with the government
spending millions on rescuing three astronauts while millions of people starve,
a judicial system that doesn’t protect the innocent and money collected to save
buildings. It sounds almost noble even to Inspector Brunel who says “I am
learning to admire the man.”
Along the way, what started as a simple whodunit becomes a film that makes the characters and viewers question their own beliefs. Is it all a coincidence? Can someone psychically will an act of violence? Is Morlar a victim of circumstance? Possessed? Mad?
While the film takes the idea that he can kill with his mind
quite seriously, it doesn’t supply any pat answers.
Even Morlar doesn’t know as he screams an anguished “What am I?” to Dr. Zonfeld.
She doesn’t have an answer for him.
Me? All I’m sure about is that Richard Burton has killer blue-green eyes.
Medusa on film
The fun poster for Hammer’s The Gorgon starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.
Treat yourself to seeing Medusa in a movie as she is meant to be: a killing machine who only needs to look at her victims. I highly suggest two classic movies: Hammer’s traditional horror film The Gorgon (1964) starring the dynamic duo of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, and Clash of the Titans (1981) with its Greek gods and monsters and a Medusa crafted from the talents of stop-motion animation master Ray Harryhausen.
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 of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and now leads 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.
Last summer I
shared a series of short reviews of “B” Westerns I watched while traveling.
I went on another road trip earlier this month and again
watched several short Westerns in the evenings, thanks to my portable DVD
player.
Taken together the films I watched provide a nice
cross-section of “B” Westerns released between the early ‘30s and early
‘40s.
It’s interesting to note that despite each one of these films having a different cowboy star, only two directors and two cinematographers worked on the quartet of movies discussed below. And rather amusingly, George “Gabby” Hayes appeared in every single one of these!
Here’s a sampling of this year’s vacation viewing:
I chose this short 57-minute Monogram Western because I like Bob Steele and knew the film was packed with familiar Lone Pine locations, filmed by Archie Stout. The movie even features Lone Pine’s Dow Villa Hotel doubling as a courthouse, and when Steele’s character escapes through a window, LONE PINE (all but the final “e”) can be seen painted on the side of the building.
Hidden Valley (1932)
The plot is some nonsense about Bob (Steele) working as a
guide for a man with a map to a hidden valley of treasure, and when the man is
murdered, Bob is arrested and convicted of the killing.
Of course, he didn’t do it, and what follows is one of the
crazier “B” Westerns I’ve ever seen. It’s set in what I call “Roy Rogers Land,”
with a mixture of cowboys on horseback, cars, telephones, and electricity poles
in view — but what really makes it unique is the film features a Goodyear
Blimp! I was amazed, as at different points Bob is rescued by the blimp and
parachutes out of it.
Lobby card for Hidden Valley (1932)
There are some excellent stunts but the acting is flat
throughout — though the deadpan acting of the blimp pilot almost veers the film
into “so bad it’s good” territory. Steele and his director father (Bradbury)
made many better “B” Westerns, but this one will linger in the memory
nonetheless, thanks to the blimp over the Alabama Hills.
Heart of the West (Howard Bretherton, 1936)
This fourth film in the Hopalong Cassidy series finds Hoppy (William Boyd) and Johnny (James “Jimmy” Ellison) traveling to take a trail drive job for rancher John Trumbull (Sidney Blackmer, misspelled Sydney in the credits).
Heart of The West (1936)
Along the way they save the life of Windy (George “Gabby”
Hayes). When Hoppy and Johnny arrive at their destination they discover that
Trumbull is trying to force Windy’s boss, Jordan (Charles Martin), out of
business so they switch sides and go to work for Jordan instead. It doesn’t
hurt that Johnny is attracted to Jordan’s pretty sister Sally (Lynn Gabriel).
Lobby card for Heart of The West (1936)
This short 63-minute film doesn’t have any unique features
and is hampered by pretty Gabriel sounding rather like Minnie Mouse. It’s
also a bit too quaint at times; when Blackmer menaces Sally, he comes off like
the villain in an old-school melodrama.
That said, it’s nicely produced, with most scenes shot
outdoors by Archie Stout in Sonora and Kernville. It’s an amiable hour-plus; if
you like Hopalong Cassidy films as I do, this fills the bill nicely.
This was the first of 16 “Lone Star” Westerns John Wayne made for Monogram. He was directed by Robert N. Bradbury, father of Wayne’s friend Bob Steele; Steele’s twin brother, Bill Bradbury, dubbed Wayne’s singing. Bradbury sounds nothing like Wayne, but he has a nice voice.
Riders of Destiny (1933)
Wayne plays “Singin’ Sandy” Saunders, who rides into a town in the middle of a water war and land swindle being run by James Kincaid (Forrest Taylor). Saunders is helpful to the farmers, and though at one point his undercover work among the bad guys leads others to jump to wrong conclusions, no one will be very surprised when it’s ultimately revealed he’s a federal agent.
Wayne is engaging throughout, even when contending with the obviously fake dubbing of his singing; he also valiantly makes it through a very odd gun showdown which he approaches… singing?! One can see that doing so many of these types of films, including having to portray a singing gun battle, would prove to be a great training ground for the actor.
John Wayne and Cecilia Parker in Riders of Destiny (1933)
Cecilia Parker, later to be Andy Hardy’s sister at MGM, is an appealing leading lady, and there’s some outstanding stunt work by Yakima Canutt, warming up for Stagecoach (1939). I do note that a couple of horse stunts are concerning, making one wonder if the animals were okay afterwards.
It’s an entertaining little 53-minute movie, which like the
above Westerns was filmed by Archie Stout. This time around the movie’s locations
included the Jauregui and Carr Ranches in Newhall, California.
The supporting cast included Gabby Hayes, Al St. John, and Earl Dwire.
This one might have been my favorite of the week. Bill Elliott plays an undercover federal agent – a theme this week! – trying to bring down Cameo Kirby (Ian Keith), who runs a crooked lottery in El Paso.
Bordertown Gun Fighters (1943)
In a surprising bit of casting, Harry Woods plays a federal marshal working with Bill; the majority of Woods’ “B” Western roles were as bad guys so it was quite refreshing to see him on Bill’s side. The sequence where he rescues Bill and the unsuspecting Gabby Hayes from a sheriff who’s in league with the villain was quite fun.
Lovely Anne Jeffreys, who costarred in eight Elliott films, plays Cameo’s innocent niece and even gets to sing “Camptown Races.”
And look very closely at a messenger who makes a delivery
to Woods — it’s a very young Ben Johnson!
Bill Elliott, Anne Jeffreys and George “Gabby” Hayes in Bordertown Gun Fighters (1943)
This one has a good story and moves along pretty well over the course of its 56 minutes. It was filmed by Jack Marta. Locations included Iverson Ranch, which I wrote about here last year.
None of these films has had a nice DVD release, although
it’s worth noting the ClassicFlix label is working to restore and release
Hopalong Cassidy films later in 2023. The movies I’ve written about above may
be found various places including on the public domain DVD label Alpha or on
YouTube.
In closing, this month I am celebrating my fifth anniversary writing the Western RoundUp column, which is rather hard to believe! Thanks so much to Classic Movie Hub for giving me the opportunity to share so much about a genre I love, and thanks to everyone who reads and comments!
…
– 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.
Silents are Golden: A Closer Look At – The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923)
The silent era is synonymous with many things: tenderly-lit romances, wacky silent comedies, edgy German Expressionism, and, of course, big-budget spectacles. From Intolerance(1916) to Metropolis(1927), silent era epics are uniquely fascinating when we consider that only a few decades prior, entertainment had been limited to the confines of a stage. It’s easy to imagine how exciting it must’ve been to be able to film actual massive crowds, and build real towering sets, to make grandiose visions come to life like never before.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923)
One of the more well-known silent epics is The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923), a Universal picture produced by Carl Laemmle and “boy wonder” Irving Thalberg. Taking six months to produce, using thousands of extras, and boasting a faithful recreation of the Notre Dame cathedral towers, it certainly gave audiences their money’s worth.
The choice to play the severely deformed bellringer Quasimodo was obviously, and practically predestined: Lon Chaney, who was already famous for his uncanny ability to play deformed or “freakish” characters. Chaney himself had longed to play Quasimodo well before the film was a twinkle in Laemmle and Thalberg’s eyes. He had even made plans to film a version of Hunchback for the Chelsea Pictures Company in Germany. These plans fell through in early 1922, and by September of that year Universal’s epic Hunchback feature was in production.
The cathedral set under construction.
Chaney was still fresh from his famous turns as a con man in The Miracle Man(1919) and the legless crime lord in The Penalty(1920). Quasimodo would be one of his biggest challenges, being one of the most deformed characters to appear on the silent screen. Chaney used putty to shape the cheeks and details around the eyes, put in false teeth, donned a very knotted wig and finished it all off with a hump reportedly made of leather and plaster, weighing about 10-15 pounds. He apparently met with people who had actual deformities to learn about their experiences, poured over Victor Hugo’s descriptions of Quasimodo, and carefully worked on his posture and body language to look as authentic on screen as possible.
Lon Chaney as Quasimodo
Esmerelda would be played by Patsy Ruth Miller (she had only been in films since 1921), Ernest Torrence was cast as Clopin the beggar king and leading man Norman Kerry was chosen to play Phoebus. Wallace Worsley, who had previously worked as a director with Chaney on four of his films (including The Penalty), was chosen to be the director. Rumor has it that Erich von Stroheim was the first choice for director, but he had been fired from Universal by this point.
Patsy Ruth Miller and Lon Chaney
The plot was changed quite a bit from Victor
Hugo’s 1831 novel, partly to make it less grim and partly to keep from
offending Christian sensibilities. The antagonist was changed from Archdeacon
Claude Frollo to a new character called Jehan, the evil brother of a saintly
archdeacon. Esmerelda isn’t hung at the end but is reunited with her love,
Phoebus, while Quasimodo has a tragic end.
Lon Chaney as Quasimodo
Production began with much fanfare, the studio
boasting about its elaborate sets and “no expenses spared” mindset. Elmer F.
Sheeley was in charge of set design, and Archie Hall was the technical director
in charge of getting the sets solidly built. Sculptor Finn Froelich designed
the statues, gargoyles, and other embellishments for the Notre Dame set. Old
prints of Paris were poured over to create the sprawling, 19-acre complex of
medieval streets, shops, and houses in Universal City, and of course the
replica of the mighty Notre Dame itself took center stage. A feat of
engineering and special effects, it was achieved by building the bottom sixty
feet of the cathedral to scale, while the top half was actually a miniature
hanging between the camera and the set in the background. The effect onscreen
is seamless.
Image credit: The American Cinematographer
Authentic-looking paving stones were created
with concrete sprayed with acid to make them look aged, and concrete arches
were built over a portion of the Los Angeles River to turn it into the sewers
of Paris. The painstaking work was much-admired by visitors to the sets, and
trade papers touted them as one of the industry’s greatest achievements thus
far.
One of the challenges of the productions was
hiring thousands of extras (around 3,000 in all) for the crowd scenes, all of
whom would have to be given costumes, daily pay, and meals. Many were recruited
from the downtown Los Angeles area. A 125-foot wardrobe building was built to
accommodate all the medieval garb, and supposedly some of the more visible
extras were given their costumes a couple days early so they could get used to
wearing them naturally. There was a definite desire to make the film seem
authentic to its gritty period, rather than appearing “stagey” or overly
romanticized.
Outside the Cathedral
All in all, Hunchback cost Universal a whopping $1,250,000 to produce. But fortunately the film was a megahit, ending up being the third highest-grossing film of 1923 just behind The Covered Wagonand The Ten Commandments. It generally received a good critical response as well, and while some reviews commented that the film was too dark, everyone praised Lon Chaney’s remarkable performance.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) movie poster
Today, most prints of Hunchback that circulate stem from 16mm copies, some choppier than
others, any original 35mm negatives having vanished long ago. Fortunately
better restorations have come out in recent years, allowing us to enjoy this
ambitious classic–and Lon Chaney’s landmark performance–in the most clarity in
decades.
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.
The Classic Connection of Warner Bros., Big Bugs and Hammer Horror
Gangster films, innovative musicals, hard-boiled detective movies and female-centered dramas. Porky Pig, Donald Duck, Bugs Bunny and Batman, too. That’s quite a distinct and diverse group of genres and characters that are part of the 100-year history of Warner Bros.
A word you don’t see in that impressive list? Horror.
Sure, the studio produced such noteworthy films as The Exorcist and The Shining, in addition to one of my favorites, the teen vampire flick The Lost Boys. But as a fan of classic horror movies, I was lacking a connection with Warner Bros. and the Golden Age of Hollywood.
I found it not in the number of classic horror films Warner Bros. made, but in its unique impact in the genre through innovation, the popular big-bug movies of the 1950s and spreading the gospel of Hammer horror.
Simply by distributing The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, Warner Bros. played a surprising role in the horror genre.
Let me explain. It appropriately started with a film called The Terror.
Journey into Terror
Warner Bros. was officially incorporated in 1923 and a four-legged actor named Rin-Tin-Tin quickly leapt to stardom. Yet by 1926, Warner Bros. was having financial difficulty and only considered a second-rate studio behind the likes of Paramount, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and William Fox. So, it did what it would do throughout its history: it took a big gamble with technology. In 1927, moviegoers watching the studio’s “silent” film TheJazz Singer were shocked – and enthralled – when Al Jolson spoke the first words heard in film:“Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ain’t heard nothing yet.”
The following year Warner Bros. released the industry’s first all-talking movie Lights of New York. Two months later came The Terror, a horror film where guests at a British country inn were stalked by a killer called the Terror. Based off the 1927 play of the same name by Edgar Wallace, the film starred May McAvoy and Edward Everett Horton.
The Terror (1927) is notable for being the first horror film made by Warner Bros. and the first horror film by any studio to use sound.
What makes The Terror special for Warner Bros. is that it was the studio’s first horror film. What makes it important in film history is that it was the first horror movie to use sound.
That use of sound led to immense profits for Lights of New York and The Terror allowing Warner Bros. to purchase the Stanley Theatre chain and a majority stake in First National Pictures. It was now alongside the big boys as a major Hollywood player.
After purchasing First National, the studio’s first film was the silent drama/comedy The Haunted House (1928). As obvious from the title, this was an early entry in the popular old dark house mystery genre. Thelma Todd and Larry Kent starred in the story of heirs drawn to a mansion for the reading of will. The film had the wonderful horror mix of a mad scientist, secret rooms and crazy characters. It was directed by Benjamin Christensen who is best known for Häxan (1922), a documentary/feature which traces the history of witchcraft and is still shown today.
From sound to visual advances
Warner Bros. then turned an eye toward color innovations. Doctor X (1932) was the first horror film to be shot entirely in color, using the two-color Technicolor process. (It was also shot in black and white which is the way many people have seen it.) The film’s talented creative trio – actors Lionel Atwill and Fay Wray and director Michael Curtiz – returned for Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933). It was the last film made using the two-color Technicolor by a major studio before technology advanced to glorious three-strip Technicolor used by Warner Bros in films like The Adventures of Robin Hood. As superb as that is, the two-strip process had a unique muted beauty that gave Doctor X and Mystery of the Wax Museum a moody atmosphere that set the tone in a horror film.
The distinct beauty of two-color Technicolor is seen in Mystery of the Wax Museum.
Both were pre-Code films that went beyond murder to include such topics as rape, pornography and cannibalism. Doctor X also had a touch of humor thanks to Lee Tracy as a reporter investigating murders that took place under a full moon. Multiple suspects are investigated at a nearby medical academy run by Doctor Xavier (Atwill), where we also meet the his lovely young daughter Joanne (Wray).
In Mystery of the Wax Museum, Atwill is a talented sculptor disfigured in a wax museum fire set by his partner for insurance money. He reappears more than a decade later with a new museum inhabited by his gorgeous wax figures that look uncomfortably real. The film was called “too ghastly for comfort” in a 1933 review by Mordaunt Hall of The New York Times, which I consider high praise.
Horror fans will recognize the same story in the fantastic 1953 Warner Bros. film House of Wax starring Vincent Price in the Atwill role. Keeping with the Warner Bros. philosophy of bringing modern advances to its audiences, it was the first film produced in 3D by a major studio. Even watching the film at home today, we can pick out scenes shot for 3D effectiveness like the bouncing paddle ball.
Getting films be seen
Beyond making movies, studios distribute films and sometimes for other studios as Warner Bros. did as part of its contribution to classic horror.
Beast from 20,000 Fathoms(1953) is an important film in horror and sci-fi. It brought stop-motion animation master Ray Harryhausen out of the shadows and into the spotlight. It also was the first of the atomic creature films with Harryhausen’s impressive fictional Rhedosaurus awakened by A-bomb testing and rumbling off to terrorize the East Coast.
With the help of major distribution it received from Warner Bros., Beastfrom 20,000 Fathoms became a surprise financial hit and helped create two popular horror genres: the tag team of giant monsters/nuclear testing (this includes Godzilla movies that are still part of the WB repertoire) and big-bug films. After all, if a dinosaur running amok was popular with audiences, wouldn’t multiple giant ants be even better? That’s what Warner Bros. thought.
After the success Warner Bros. had with Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, it made the giant ant film Them! It was a huge financial success in 1954 and is still called the best of the big-bug movies.
In Them!, James Arness and James Whitmore led the charge against giant ants that terrorized the country. It became the highest grossing film of 1954 for Warner Bros., yet the studio didn’t continue with the trend, instead concentrating on such Cinemascope films as King Richard and the Crusadersand A Star is Born. Thankfully other studios followed the Warner Bros lead and jumped on the big-bug bandwagon, giving us such classics asIt Came from Beneath the Sea, The Giant Behemoth and Tarantula..
The studio’s influence on film history when it came to
distributing the work of other students didn’t stop there.
We think of Hammer Films for its delectable array of horror
movies in the 1950s and beyond. But without the help of U.S. studios including
Warner Bros., American audiences may never have seen these films or at the very
least, seen enough of them to make the House of Hammer the horror giant it is
in film history.
At least nine U.S. studios were involved with distributing Hammer films including Columbia, Universal, United Artists, MGM, Twentieth Century-Fox and Warner Bros.
The Curse of Frankenstein with Christopher Lee gained U.S. distribution through Warner Bros.
A huge moment in the partnership between Warner Bros. and Hammer was the worldwide distribution in 1957 of the Christopher Lee-Peter Cushing film The Curse of Frankenstein. It changed everything for Hammer as author Howard Maxford sums up in his book Hammer, House of Horror:
“Warner would also give Frankenstein the kind of
promotional campaign Hammer could only dream of affording. Consequently, when
the film opened at the Warner Bros. Theatre in London’s West End on May 2,
1957, the lines stretched round the block, despite an almost universally
hostile reaction from the press,” Maxford writes.
While the U.S. studios helped get Hammer out to the world, it remained a tumultuous time of feast or famine when it came to this support. In 1968, Hammer was without a U.S. distributor and again facing financial problems. The timely merger that created Warner Bros.-Seven Arts saved the day starting with Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968), the fourth in Hammer’s Dracula series.
However, Warner Brothers also held the rights to these films and was, to say the least, very slow in putting them on home video. Even then, the movies were released without any bonus material. That’s one reason for the 2018 documentary Hammer Horror: The Warner Brothers Years which traces the important relationship between Warner and Hammer from the brief, but important, period of 1968 to 1974, while also giving fans the interviews and background information they craved.
In retrospect
Warner Bros. may not have produced a large number of classic horror films, but when it did, it was with creativity and innovation. And at the very least, this big-bug film fan is grateful for Them! and all the oversized creatures that followed.
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 of the Classic Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo chapter of TCM Backlot and 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.
Canada Day – formerly known as
Dominion Day and sometimes referred to as “Canada’s birthday” – is a federal
holiday that commemorates the anniversary of Canadian Confederation. This took
place on July 1, 1867, when the three separate colonies of the United Canadas,
Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick were united into a single, self-governing nation
within the British Empire called Canada. (You learn something new every day,
dontcha?)
In celebration of the upcoming Canada Day observance, this
month’s Noir Nook is shining the light on a trio of noir vets who hail from Canada.
Enjoy!
Born Raymond William Stacy Burr, the actor later to be best known as Perry Mason entered the world on May 21, 1917, in New Westminster, British Columbia. He was the oldest of three children of William, who worked as a salesman for a hardware store, and Minerva (a Chicago, Illinois native), who studied music and played the piano in the local symphony orchestra as well as for the silent movies at the town’s movie theater. When he was six, the family moved to Vallejo, California, where his mother’s family owned a small hotel. In his youth, Burr participated in church plays and school productions; he later honed his craft in repertory and summer theater before making his Broadway debut in 1941 in Crazy with the Heat. The play closed after only seven shows; the production was taken over by then-newspaper reporter Ed Sullivan, who restaged it – and Burr was out. Despite this blow, Burr remained in New York, working odd jobs to make ends meet, and was back on Broadway in 1943, playing a French patriot in The Duke in Darkness. This time, his performance caught the eye of a Hollywood agent, and a short time later, Burr signed a contract with RKO. In 1946, he appeared in his first motion picture, RKO’s Without Reservations, starring John Wayne and Claudette Colbert, and he made his film noir debut the following year in Desperate. In this Anthony Mann-directed feature, Burr played Walt Radak, a local hood who’s bent on revenge when he blames an old neighborhood pal (Steve Brodie) for the conviction and pending execution of his brother.
Burr would go on to appear in numerous other noirs, where he excelled in villainous roles. In addition to Desperate, the best of these included Pitfall (1948), as a disturbing insurance investigator; Raw Deal (1948), where he was memorable as a sadistic gangleader; and The Blue Gardenia (1953), in which he played a wolfish ladies’ man.
On May 1, 1916, Gwyllyn Samuel Newton Ford was born in Sainte-Christine, Quebec, Canada, the only child of Hannah and Newton, a conductor with the Canadian Pacific Railroad. His entrance had a dramatic prologue: three weeks before his mother was to give birth, a fire broke out in the store over which the Ford’s lived. As a fireman was carrying the very-pregnant Hannah down a ladder, the rungs broke, and both fell two stories to the ground. Luckily, both survived. The family moved to Santa Monica, California, for Newton’s health when Ford was young; he was first exposed to acting while a student at Santa Monica High School. After graduation, Ford performed in a variety of plays with the Santa Monica Players, and later appeared in a production of Soliloquy that first played Santa Barbara, then San Diego, and ultimately, Broadway. Although the play was a flop, Ford did a screen test for 20th Century-Fox a short time later and was cast in his first film, Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence (1939), with Jean Rogers and Richard Conte. After its release, Ford hired Zeppo Marx to be his agent and signed a long-term contract with Columbia Studios. He would be with the studio for the next 14 years and would make his first foray into film noir in 1946, with Gilda. In this popular feature, he starred opposite Rita Hayworth as Johnny Farrell, a small-time gambler-turned-right-hand man of a Buenos Aires casino owner (George Macready) – who just happens to show up on day with Johnny’s ex-girl on his arm (and a ring on her finger).
Ford was a standout in six other noirs, including Framed (1947), with Janis Carter and Barry Sullivan; Convicted(1950), the remake of a 1931 pre-Code starring Phillips Holmes; and my favorite Ford film, The Big Heat (1953). In this feature, helmed by Fritz Lang, Ford stars as a detective determined to bring down the mobsters responsible for his wife’s murder.
John Ireland
John Ireland in Railroaded! (1947)
A native of Victoria, British Columbia, John Benjamin Ireland was born on January 30, 1914. His mother, Gracie Ferguson, was a piano teacher from Scotland; he never knew his biological father, but Grace later married Irish vaudevillian Michael Noone and had three other children – one of these would grow up to be actor Tommy Noonan). When Ireland was still a child, the family moved to San Francisco and later to Harlem in New York City. His introduction to acting reportedly occurred by happenstance years later when he entered Manhattan’s Davenport Free Theater one day, simply planning to take in a free show. Instead, he learned that the company offered free acting training, and the directionless, financially strapped young man signed up. After a year with the Davenport Theater, Ireland gained experience from a variety of companies, including Clare Tree Major’s Children’s Theater and a Shakespearean company in Delaware, before debuting on Broadway in the 1941 production of Macbeth. His stage successes ultimately caught the attention of Hollywood and Ireland was seen in his first big screen outing, A Walk in the Sun, in 1945. He stepped into the realm of film noir two years later, in Railroaded! (1947). Anthony Mann directed this picture, where Ireland was a standout as a psychopathic hood with a proclivity for perfuming the bullets of his gun.
After Railroaded, Ireland was featured in The Gangster (1947), playing a gambling addict named Karty; Raw Deal (1948), as a gunman known as Fantail; and Party Girl (1958), a rare color noir where he portrayed the sleazy henchman of a 1930s-era mobster.
I wish a Happy Canada Day to all Canadian residents and expats – why not join in the celebration by taking in a noir by one of these Canadian natives? You only owe it to yourself.
…
– 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:
Silver Screen Standards: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)
Many remakes have followed in the wake of the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), the iconic science fiction film adapted from a serialized novel by American sci-fi writer Jack Finney, but the first outing for this terrifying tale of soulless pod people remains the most multi-faceted, with even author Finney and director Don Siegel offering different interpretations of the picture’s message. The later movies, with varying degrees of fidelity to the source material, lean into the science fiction and horror elements of the story, but the original adaptation is compelling partly because of its extensive use of the tropes and style of classic film noir. While I’m not the first person to note the importance of noir style to Invasion of the Body Snatchers, I think it’s worth discussing at some length because the classic noir themes add so much to this film and help it to remain relevant and thought-provoking for viewers today, nearly 70 years after its theatrical release.
Exhausted and afraid, Miles has to resort to extreme measures to avoid being captured.
The plot of the picture follows the spiraling experience of Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy), a doctor in the small California town of Santa Mira who returns from a conference to find strange problems troubling his patients and friends. At first, Miles dismisses the complaints as psychological in nature, but he soon comes to realize that the townspeople really are changing into perfect but not quite human copies of themselves. Along with his friends, Jack and Teddy (King Donovan and Carolyn Jones) and his love interest, Becky (Dana Wynter), Miles tries to escape the clutches of the transformed pod people and alert the outside world to the danger humanity faces, but time is of the essence because the changelings take control once their victims fall asleep.
Miles and Becky elude the pod people by hiding in a cave, where they splash their faces with water in an attempt to stay awake.
Throughout the movie, the cinematic and narrative conventions of noir rachet up the tension the audience feels. Miles is a doctor, not a detective, but he functions as the clue-finding protagonist struggling to uncover a murderous, sinister plot before it’s too late. His efforts also make him a man on the run from the law because the aliens have already replaced the local police. The scenes of pursuit that ensue employ the same camera angles and visual vocabulary seen in many classic noir films; we watch Miles and Becky drive, run, and hide with increasing desperation as the changelings close in on them. Their exhaustion and panic are palpable, with their faces framed in lights and shadows that highlight their emotions.
Miles (Kevin McCarthy) and Becky (Dana Wynter) go on the run to escape being turned into pod people.
On my most recent viewing, these elements called to mind noir classics like The Third Man (1949), Night and the City (1950), and even the influential proto-noir, M (1931). The wraparound scenes, which were added later and against Siegel’s wishes, might offer the audience more hope than the original ending, with Miles vainly shouting on the freeway, but they also contribute to the noir sensibility of the whole. Miles doesn’t start the movie already dead or dying, as we see in Sunset Boulevard (1950) and D.O.A. (1950), but, as he recounts his story to the authorities, we feel increasingly unsure about the way the final scene will unfold. Like Larry Ballentine (Robert Young) in They Won’t Believe Me (1947), Miles has no reason to think his account will convince others, but there’s a very good chance that the pod people have already replaced the doctors and policemen in the room. The ending is less grim than Siegel originally wanted, but it’s still a tense place to leave a story, with the world in immediate danger and no guarantee that the audience won’t go home to find their loved ones strangely different than they were before.
Is it Miles’ true love, Becky, or is it a heartless pod person wearing her face?
Finney, Seigel, McCarthy, and others have debated the
movie’s message over the years following its release, with some arguing that it
depicts the dangers of McCarthyism, others reading it as an anti-Communist
metaphor, and Seigel insisting that it portrayed a more general loss of
humanity. The noir elements of the movie allow each of these claims to have
their merits, but they also permit a modern reading of the narrative about the
ways in which our increasingly diverse American society is being violently
suppressed in favor of enforced conformity and homogeneity. Post-war noir
questioned the shiny surface and middle-class values of American culture, which
left no room for drifters, losers, outcasts, dreamers, or anyone else who
didn’t fall into line politically, culturally, racially, or sexually. It took
us into the dark corners of a corrupt, capitalist culture where fat cats ruled
and little guys were always already doomed, no matter how much they struggled
against the machinery of the system. Invasion of the Body Snatchers
argues that forced conformity to a rigid social structure deprives individuals
of everything that matters about them; they lose their emotions and capacity
for empathy, what some might call their very souls. As citizens succumb to the
insidious forces that transform them into pod people, they turn on their
neighbors, their friends, even their once beloved family members. Outwardly
they seem like the same people, but less human than before. It’s a
terrifying prospect, whether we watch it unfold in 1950s Santa Mira or in our
own hometowns today.
The 1956 Invasion of the Body Snatchers was most notably remade in 1978 with a cast that includes Donald Sutherland, Jeff Goldblum, and Leonard Nimoy (Kevin McCarthy has a great cameo, and Don Siegel also makes a brief appearance). Body Snatchers (1993), The Invasion (2007), and Assimilate (2019) all owe their origins to Finney’s source material and the influence of the original film, as does the very funny 2013 Edgar Wright comedy, The World’s End. Other science fiction films that explore enforced conformity include THX 1138 (1971), The Stepford Wives (1975), and They Live (1988). If you’re interested in the fertile intermingling of science fiction and film noir, have a look at Kiss Me Deadly (1955), Alphaville (1965), Soylent Green (1973), Blade Runner (1982), Dark City (1998), and Minority Report (2002).
Joseph “Joe” Frank Cobb was among the many children cast in the early iteration of Our Gang, spending his tenure in the hit comedies from 1922 to 1929. He was born in Shawnee, Oklahoma, on November 7, 1916, to James Cobb and Florence “Flossie” Jewel McComas Cobb. By age five, he was discovered as a new talent when vacationing with his father in Los Angeles, California. There, his father sent him to audition for Hal Roach’s Our Gang, leading him to appear in some of the earliest shorts, including The Champeen (1923) and The Big Show (1923). Notably, he would appear in the last silent short in the series, entitled Saturday’s Lesson (1929). In the same year, he appeared in the first Our Gang sound short, Small Talk (1929).
By age 12, he was phasing out of the series. Essentially, his replacement would be Norman Chaney as “Chubby,” with both Chaney and Cobb appearing in Boxing Gloves (1929). His final appearance as a regular in the series was in Lazy Days (1929), though he did make three additional cameo appearances in the years to come.
Our Gang Celebrating New Year 1925
In the 1940s, his acting career came to a close after carrying out various minor film roles. He worked as an assembler for North American Aviation in Downey, California, for several decades, retiring in 1981. During those years, he was also a master of ceremonies for Our Gang publicity tours and made appearances for the Sons of the Desert Laurel and Hardy fan society. He passed away in a convalescent home on May 21, 2002, in Santa Ana, California, at age 85. Cobb was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park —Glendale.
Cobb building B-52 bombers for North American Aviation
In the 1930s, Cobb and his family resided at 836 S.
Spaulding Ave., Los Angeles, California. At this point, he was an established
child actor. His mother had just passed away in 1929. Here, he resided with his
father, siblings Loretta and Lucile, as well as his great aunt and uncle,
Arvila and Charles Mechler. His father worked as an attorney. The home stands
today.
Cobb’s 1930s residence at 836 S. Spaulding Ave., Los Angeles, California
In the 1940s, Cobb lived at 2175 Broadview Terrace, Los
Angeles, California, per his draft card, which also listed him as unemployed. This
home still stands.
Cobb’s 1940s residence at 2175 Broadview Terrace, Los Angeles, California
In the same decade, he resided with his uncle and aunt,
George and Mattie Cato, at 4328 W. Normandy Ave., Dallas, Texas, as well as
with lodger Joe Goldstein. In 1950, he lived at 4353 S. Bonnie Brae, Los
Angeles, California, while working as an assembler. Both of these homes have
since been razed.
Today, Cobb’s grave marker cites him as a member of Our Gang.
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.
Western RoundUp: Western Film Book Library – Part 7
Every year or so I share some interesting titles on the Western film genre in this column. Here’s my 2023 look at a mixture of brand-new and vintage books on Westerns!
There’s an exciting new series of paperback books on Westerns, “Reel West,” which has recently debuted from the University of New Mexico Press.
Blood on the Moon by Alan K. Rode and Ride Lonesome by Kirk Ellis
The
publisher describes them as “short, well-designed volumes exploring
individual films across the whole history of the Western,” also calling
them “smart, incisive examinations.” Having now read the first two
books in the series, I found the descriptions accurate. I’m enthused about the
titles I’ve just read, and I’m looking forward to reading forthcoming titles.
Blood on the Moon by Alan K. Rode
Blood on the Moon is a 99-page book on the 1948 film of the same name. It was written by film historian Alan K. Rode, whose other books include excellent biographies of Michael Curtiz and Charles McGraw. Charles McGraw, incidentally, appears as a rancher in the film, memorably wearing a bearskin coat.
The new book concisely yet thoroughly details the history of the 1948 Western, doing an admirable job recounting details of the movie’s production while also placing the film in a wider context. Readers will come to understand how the movie fits in Western, film noir, and RKO studio history, as well as in the careers of filmmakers such as director Robert Wise and rising star Robert Mitchum.
The book
also delves into the history of author Luke Short, whose book was the basis for
the screenplay; over the years his novels were filmed on numerous occasions.
There
are detailed chapter notes and a bibliography, though not an index. The book
contains numerous interesting black and white photos, many of which were new to
me. While an index would have been handy for referring back to the book in the
future, I felt it lived up to the publisher’s promise of a “well-designed
volume,” including a three-page spread neatly detailing the film’s
credits.
Blood on
the Moon is a very engaging read which I devoured over the
course of a single airplane flight. Fans of Westerns and classic films alike
should find it quite enjoyable and informative.
Ride Lonesome by Kirk Ellis
It was a pleasure to unexpectedly meet Kirk Ellis, the author of Ride Lonesome, at a recent film festival – all the more so as I happened to have the book with me and was able to have him sign it!
At 207
pages the Ride Lonesome book is about twice the length
of Blood on the Moon. It follows the same style, with chapter
notes, bibliography, and a number of black and white photos, but no index.
The 1959 film Ride Lonesome is my favorite of the seven Westerns in which Budd Boetticher directed Randolph Scott, and I’ve also been to the film’s Alabama Hills locations several times, so it was quite a treat to read an entire book on this beloved Western. I also appreciated that Ellis describes trekking to the Alabama Hills himself to see the locations firsthand.
In his introduction Ellis describes Ride Lonesome as “one of the starkest, leanest, and most unrelenting films in any genre of the period.” It certainly is all that – I love the short 73-minute running time and the memorably bleak ending — though I also find it rather optimistic in the way that outlaw Sam Boone (Pernell Roberts) ends up working with Randolph Scott’s Ben Brigade, and just maybe going on to a better life after “The End.”
The
author’s personal relationships with both Boetticher and screenwriter Burt
Kennedy gives his knowledgeable text an added dimension. He shares both men’s
personal stories along with the production history of the film; he places Ride
Lonesome in the context of the other “Ranown” Westerns and
also offers excellent critical analysis of both Kennedy’s script and the
finished film. He offered so many insights that I’m anxious to pull this film
off the shelf again in the near future and watch it with this fresh
perspective. In short, I loved and recommend this book.
Heroes, Heavies and Sagebrush is a 1972 book by Arthur F. McClure and Ken D. Jones. I discovered it thanks to my friend, film historian Toby Roan; I immediately sought a copy, as the authors’ 1970 book The Films of James Stewarthas been on my bookshelf since I was a pre-teen, when I found it on a closeout table in the attic at Pickwick Books in Hollywood.
Heroes, Heavies and Sagebrush by Arthur F. Mc Clure and Ken D. Jones
It’s a
photo-filled 351-page hardback packed with biographical information and credits
for a wide variety of Western supporting players. Examples of a couple pages
are seen below. While a considerable amount of the biographical data —
especially death dates — has become outdated in the half century since it was
published, the book still contains a great deal of value.
Heroes, Heavies and Sagebrush by Arthur F. Mc Clure and Ken D. Jones
Heroes, Heavies and Sagebrush by Arthur F. Mc Clure and Ken D. Jones
The many
photos are useful to help identify Western players by name, and for me such
photos have also always sparked interest in films to search out for future
viewing. This is a delightful read and reference source for Western fans.
Sweethearts of the Sage: Biograhies and Filmographies of 258 Actresses Appearing in Western Movies by Buck Rainey
This
632-page book by Buck Rainey, published by McFarland, is truly remarkable, and
it was certainly worth what I paid, as I’ll be referring to it for years to
come.
Sweethearts of the Sage: Biograhies and Filmographies of 258 Actresses Appearing in Western Movies by Buck Rainey
Sweethearts of the Sage: Biograhies and Filmographies of 258 Actresses Appearing in Western Movies by Buck Rainey
As seen
in the page spreads above, the book features biographies of varying lengths;
some are quite detailed, and in all cases the book is a great way to learn more
about Western leading ladies. The book also contains an extensive film title
index at the back.
While I’m on this topic, I’d like to remind readers of books about Western heroines which I’ve covered in the past: Westerns Women and Ladies of the Western, which I wrote about here in July 2019, and The Heroine or the Horse, which I wrote about last summer.
I’ll
wrap up this month’s column with two books on Randolph Scott, who
coincidentally starred in the previously discussed Ride Lonesome.
This
time around Nott explores Scott’s entire career, beginning with bit parts. He
provides film credits and plot outlines, production history and critical
response, as well as including his own takes on the titles. Examples are seen
in the page spreads below.
The Films of Randolph Scott by Robert Nott
The Films of Randolph Scott by Robert Nott
Some of
the information necessarily overlaps with Last of the Cowboy Heroes,
but it’s all very useful and I quite enjoyed reading about Scott’s other films
and placing his Westerns in the context of his full career. Nott pulls together
facts about each film to provide a smooth and interesting read about each
title, and the book is nicely illustrated with high-quality black and white
reproductions on the book’s pages. Scott fans will want this book, especially
if they don’t have the earlier title.
The other Scott title, Randolph Scott: A Film Biography, is an older book, originally published by Empire Publishing in 1987. Empire also published David Rothel’s book Tim Holt which I shared here in November 2019.
Randolph Scott, A Film Biography by Jefferson Brim Crow III
Randolph
Scott: A Film Biography was written by Jefferson Brim
Crow III and runs 303 pages. It’s a heavy book with glossy pages.
The text is lighter than Nott’s book, with a strong focus on photographs. There are also several pages of reprints of original Scott movie reviews which are fun to peruse — those with aging eyes may want a magnifying glass – and there’s a lengthy section of film credits at the back of the book.
\
Randolph Scott, A Film Biography by Jefferson Brim Crow III
The
photos are very enjoyable and make this book a nice supplement to Nott’s
writings on Scott.
Thanks to the University of New Mexico Press and editor Andrew Patrick Nelson for providing review copies of Blood on the Moon and Ride Lonesome.
…
– 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.
Silents are Golden: Silent Superstars – The Sensational Pola Negri
We’re all familiar with the stereotype of the flamboyant silent film actress: the lavishly-dressed temptress being chauffeured around Hollywood in gold-plated automobiles, stalking through the most exclusive parties, leaving a trail of ex-husbands in her wake. If there’s one actress who conforms the most closely to this image, it’s probably the “exotic” Polish-born Pola Negri. Savvy at keeping her name in the press, it was her acting skills and undeniable charisma that ultimately kept audiences coming to her films.
Pola Negri
Her backstory was a publicist’s dream, being
the sort that could be easily tweaked to emphasize either privilege or
pluckiness at will. Believed to have been born in 1897 (exact dates have varied
according to source), Barbara Apolonia Chalupec was raised in the town of
Lipno, Poland. (Her screen name “Pola” was based on her middle name, and
“Negri” came from an Italian poet.) She claimed her mother’s family were former
aristocrats who had lost their fortune due to their support of Napoleon. When
her father turned revolutionary, the Russians exiled him to Siberia and an
impoverished Negri and her mother moved to Warsaw. (Later in life she would
claim her mother was a “noblewoman” and her father a “Gypsy violinist,” or said
that both parents were revolutionaries, or some variation of the above.)
Fortunately, Negri was a talented girl and was accepted into the Imperial Ballet Academy and then the Warsaw Imperial Academy of Dramatic Arts. By 1912 she had made her stage debut in Polish theater, and in a few years she had gained enough popularity to move to Germany to work at Max Reinhardt’s prestigious Berlin theater. She first met future film collaborator Ernest Lubitsch in 1917 during Reinhardt’s production of Sumurun (1920). While Lubitsch wasn’t acting he was directing films, and this apparently piqued Negri’s interest in acting in moving pictures.
A postcard for one of Negri’s early films, Carmen (1918).
She initially appeared in six films for Saturn Films, then started working for Germany’s UFA studio. Her famed collaboration with Lubitsch began in 1918, when he created the big-budget Die Augen der Mumie Ma (The Eyes of the Mummy Ma) to showcase Negri’s fiery talents and striking beauty. This was followed by Carmen (1918) and then the influential Madame DuBarry (1919), released in the U.S. as Passion. Madame DuBarry was an international hit and a major boon for the German film industry, which had been largely shunned during World War I. It even threatened to knock Hollywood’s dominance in the film market down a peg or two.
A trade ad for Passion.
But not for long–Hollywood soon invited both Lubitsch and Negri to make pictures in the U.S. Negri arrived in 1922 with much fanfare, making her one of the first major European stars to be “imported” to Hollywood. Her first features were Bella Donna, The Cheat (a remake of the 1915 classic starring Sessue Hayakawa), and The Spanish Dancer, all filmed in 1923. (Lubitsch, in the meantime, was busy making Mary Pickford’s Rosita.)
In costume for The Spanish Dancer (1923).
These were followed by a string of big-budget films like the acclaimed Forbidden Paradise(1924), her last collaboration with Lubitsch. Her talents were well-suited for Spanish dancer and seductive lover roles. She also starred in the cheekily self-aware A Woman of the World(1925), which toyed with her “exotic temptress” image.
Pola in A Woman of the World (1925)
The dramatic-looking diva, with her black hair, porcelain skin, and penchant for flashy red nail polish and expensive jewels, fascinated the public. She bought a swanky Beverly Hills mansion modeled after Mount Vernon and was chauffeured about in a cream-colored Rolls Royce or a limousine, depending on the occasion. When audiences weren’t flocking to her films they were hearing about her exploits in the press (although a supposed feud with fellow beauty queen Gloria Swanson was fabricated). She was described as “the eternal Carmen… passionate, elemental, primitive.”
Negri in 1937
Divorced from Count Eugeniusz Dąbski since 1922, any real or potential love affairs were fawned over in the tabloids – especially an early 1920s romance with Charlie Chaplin. Other lovers included Rod La Rocque and, most famously, Rudolph Valentino. Negri had met the great Latin Lover at a Marion Davies party in 1925, around the time Valentino was divorcing Natasha Rambova. The two had an affectionate, if somewhat tempestuous relationship, given Negri’s willingness to cause the occasional public scene.
The costumed couple.
When Valentino tragically passed away in 1926, Negri made headlines for her appearance at his funeral bier in New York City – and not in a positive way. Reporters were on hand to see her emotional arrival at Grand Central station, wearing expensive black widow’s weeds and a veil, with a nurse and publicist in tow. After fainting into the arms of her friends, she made her way to Valentino’s bier, where she prayed and wept copiously and then fainted again. Apparently she tried to have a $2000 flower arrangement draped on the coffin for the funeral, with white roses spelling out “POLA.” While some friends later claimed her histrionics were genuine, the public felt they were attention-seeking and in bad taste.
Pola arriving in New York.
Negri’s reputation fell further when she married “Prince”
Serge Mdivani, of Georgian descent, less than a year after Valentino’s death.
In 1928 Negri discovered she was pregnant and considered retiring from the
screen to raise a family. But to her lasting grief, she had a miscarriage. The
marriage to Mdivani, who turned out to be a heavy gambler, would only last a
few more years. She would not remarry.
Negri would weather the transition to talkies well, but the material she was given tended to be subpar. She would return to Germany for a few years to make films for the old UFA studio, but returned to the U.S. when the Nazis took over. Largely retiring from the entertainment business in 1945, she would be approached by Billy Wilder for the title role in Sunset Boulevardin 1948. Despite her silent era image arguably being the closest to the fictional Norma Desmond, she turned it down. After the death of her mother in 1954, Negri moved to San Antonio where she quietly spent her remaining years.
Pola circa the early 1940s.
Negri’s last film appearance – in full color – was the Disney mystery film The Moon-Spinners(1964). In 1970 she released an autobiography titled Memoirs of a Star. A devout Catholic in her later life, she also fundraised for Catholic charities. She would leave sizable portions of her estate to the Polish nuns of the Seraphic Order in San Antonio, as well as St. Mary’s University in Texas, which was also fortunate to receive her memorabilia from her glory days in Hollywood.
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.
