Over the last few months two prominent Southern California
museums have featured exhibits on cowboys.
To varying degrees, the exhibits included memorabilia about
Western movies and movie cowboys. In
this month’s column I’ll be sharing photos from my visits.
In December I visited the Autry Museum of the American West,
which some readers may recall from photos I shared here in a 2019
column. The museum has just
concluded hosting a traveling exhibit, Black Cowboys: An American Story, for
the past six months.
This was a very interesting, informative exhibit about the
history of black cowboys throughout the United States. Here I’m focusing solely
on a small section of the exhibit featuring “B” movie Western star Herb
Jeffries. Jeffries was also sometimes billed as Herbert Jeffrey.
Jeffries, of mixed-race ancestry, chose to reflect his black
heritage by portraying a black cowboy in a series of Westerns beginning with Harlem
on the Prairie (1937). Jeffries, an accomplished singer, specifically
created his musical cowboy persona to acknowledge the history of black cowboys
and provide a role model for children.
The Autry exhibit shared a poster for Jeffries’ The
Bronze Buckaroo (1939) alongside another poster for a Western with an
all-black cast, Black Gold (1928).
Although I sadly neglected to take a close-up photo,
Jeffries’ own boots and holster were also on display, seen to the left of this
wide shot. The boots were worn in Harlem
on the Prairie (1937).
I haven’t yet seen any of Jeffries’ Westerns yet, but I
intend to do so in the future! He’s immortalized on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,
which by chance I saw the same day as this exhibit. His remains are interred in a columbarium
with a lovely marker at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
Black Cowboys: An American Story is currently on exhibit at
the Kalamazoo Valley Museum in Michigan through July 2026.
The Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum has also
been hosting a six-month exhibit, Cowboys: History & Hollywood.
Ronald Reagan himself starred in a small handful of Westerns
during his movie career, including Law and Order (1953), Cattle Queen
of Montana (1954), and Tennessee’s Partner (1955).
Cowboys: History & Hollywood was an extensive exhibit
spread across several rooms. As the
title implies, it chronicled the history of “real” cowboys alongside movie
cowboys, which is my focus here.
In a nice bit of serendipity, the Reagan Library exhibit
showcased a different Herb Jeffries poster, for Harlem Rides the Range
(1939).
It also featured a Gene Autry guitar, a nice coincidence
given that this column began with a visit to the Autry Museum! A lunchbox from the Autry-produced Annie
Oakley TV series, which starred Gail Davis, can be spotted in the
background.
The Reagan Library exhibit also featured a poster for Gene
Autry in Blue Montana Skies (1939).
Visitors of a certain age, who grew up watching Roy Rogers
movies or TV shows, were moved (and perhaps a bit startled!) to see Trigger,
Buttermilk, and Bullet alongside original Roy Rogers and Dale Evans costumes.
There were also some striking foreign Tom Mix posters.
A Winchester ’73 (1950) poster was side by side with
a poster for a Winchester rifle search done to publicize the film.
There were also some actual Winchester rifles!
The many posters on display also included Decision at
Sundown (1957), starring Randolph Scott, and the all-star How the West
Was Won (1962).
There were props from Tombstone (1993), a film I
wrote about here three
years ago.
Numerous costumes on display included Clint Eastwood
costumes from Pale Rider (1992), below left, and Unforgiven
(1992), seen on the right.
My very favorite thing in the exhibit was John Wayne’s
battered hat from Hondo (1953), a film I love which I wrote about here in 2018,
in a column on favorite John Wayne leading ladies, and in 2024,
in a post on Westerns for young viewers.
I hope readers have enjoyed a “virtual tour” of these terrific exhibits!
…
– 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.
Buster Keaton’s Motion Picture Debut: The First Five Films
From our 21st century perspective, Buster
Keaton’s upbringing was certainly unusual. Born to parents who made a modest
living performing in travelling medicine shows, he became a performer himself
at a very young age. Arguably a child prodigy with exceptional comedic and
acrobatic skills, he soon became the highlight of the family act. In time the
Keatons were able to work their way to the vaudeville stage as “The Three
Keatons,” specializing in slapstick comedy. The family act became so well known
that none other than William Randolph Hearst offered to star them in a film
series based on the comic strip Bringing Up Father. This being an era
when motion pictures were considered beneath the stage, Buster’s father Joe
indignantly turned the offer down: “You want to show The Three Keatons on a
bedsheet for ten cents?”
The Three Keatons performed in countless
theaters across America until disbanding in 1917. Looking for a fresh start,
the 21-year-old Buster signed up to perform with the prestigious revue The
Passing Show of 1917 in New York City. While waiting for rehearsals to
begin, he was invited to tour comedian Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle’s nearby movie
studio where a series of comedy shorts was about to start production. Already
fascinated by cinema prior to his visit, Buster decided he wanted to leave the
stage and “cast my lot with the pictures.”
The Butcher Boy (1917)
The Butcher Boy
Buster’s very first film appearance was in The
Butcher Boy (1917), Roscoe Arbuckle’s first independent two-reeler.
Arbuckle had been a popular performer and director for Mack Sennett for years
before going solo in 1917, bringing along fellow Sennett performers like
rubber-limbed nephew Al St. John and former prop man Joe Bordeaux to his new
“Comique” studio. A generous soul and a patient mentor, Arbuckle had seen the
Three Keatons act in the past and was happy to have the talented Buster
onboard, allowing him to come up with funny “bits of business” for the screen.
The Butcher Boy is
set in a small-town general store where Roscoe works behind the counter. For
Buster’s entrance, he’s shown walking into the frame with his back to the
camera and examining a barrel full of brooms. Picking up one of the brooms, he
then turns and faces the camera. Since The Three Keatons frequently used brooms
in their act as slapstick tools, this was probably to help audiences recognize
him from the stage. Dressed in overalls and slapshoes, he also sports his
familiar little porkpie hat. He and Roscoe then share a simple, but
expertly-timed scene involving mishaps with a bucket of molasses. The film also
gave Buster multiple opportunities to do impressive pratfalls, the first
involving a bag of flour straight to the face.
The Rough House (1917)
Buster Keaton (r) and Al St. John in The Rough House
Buster’s second film appearance was in
Arbuckle’s second Comique The Rough House (1917), which packed in even
more slapstick mayhem than The Butcher Boy. Arbuckle’s shown enduring a
prickly relationship with his domineering mother-in-law, while the cook Al St.
John picks a fight with delivery boy Buster over the hand of the pretty
household maid. Soon the fight spills out of the kitchen and throughout the
house, destroying the dining room. The second half of the film shows Roscoe
having to wait on guests–the staff naturally having been fired–and the cops
being called after some jewelry goes missing.
This short has a distinct Sennett film flavor,
especially in the final sequence showing Al, Buster and Joe Bordeaux as cops
racing to the rescue (the station was low on recruits). Supposedly this
sequence used to be even longer, and showed the trio repeatedly emerging from
the wrong subway stations. Like all the Comiques The Rough House is
lively and thoroughly unpretentious, and gave Buster many opportunities to use
his pratfalling skills, well-matched by Al. Their ferocious kitchen fight has
been described as a slapstick ballet.
His Wedding Night (1917)
His Wedding Night
His Wedding Night
is set in another small-town store: a pharmacy called Koff & Kramp where
Roscoe works the front counter. Roscoe proposes to his sweetheart (played by
the spunky Alice Mann) and angers his romantic rival Al St. John. Al hatches a
wild plan to kidnap Alice and force her into marriage. Buster pops up as
another delivery boy character, this time to deliver Alice’s wedding dress.
Alice excitedly asks Buster to model the dress for her, and this being a silent
comedy short and all, he cheerfully obliges. Al’s dastardly plan is put into
motion, but he doesn’t realize that the “girl” he just kidnapped was actually
Buster in drag.
By now Buster was hitting his stride as a
series regular, and certainly seems to have contributed some ideas, such as
having a folding screen drop down dramatically to reveal him modeling the
wedding dress. He hams it up delightfully, smiling onscreen several times (yes,
you’ll notice that he smiles in all the Comiques), and looking
completely at ease in the surreal world of silent comedy–a world where the
villain seemingly can’t hear Buster’s voice when he finds himself getting
kidnapped!
4. Oh, Doctor! (1917)
Buster Keaton (r) and Roscoe ‘Fatty’ Arbuckle in Oh Doctor!
This fourth Comique short was a decided change
of pace and a bit more plot-heavy. Roscoe plays the well-to-do Dr. I. O. Dine
who takes his wife and pampered young son to the horse races. A smartly-dressed
Al shows up at the track with his vamp-ish, attractive wife, and Roscoe
secretly strikes up a flirtation with her. Both
Roscoe and Al lose all their money betting on a losing horse. Trying to cover
their loss, Al and his wife hatch a plot to steal jewelry from the wealthy
Roscoe. And of course, this risky plan goes awry.
Buster has the unusual role of playing
Roscoe’s bratty son, laughing and bawling and getting constantly smacked around
by the old man. The histrionics can seem pretty startling to fans used to his
subtle, straight-faced persona of the 1920s.
5. Coney Island (1917)
Buster Keaton and Agnes Neilson in Coney Island
This is the short where Buster (and yes,
that’s him laughing in the above photo!) truly feels like an essential cog in
the Comique machinery. A breezy short with a relaxed feel, Coney Island simply
follows the adventures of Roscoe, Al and Buster at the famous amusement park.
Buster loses his girl Alice Mann to rival Al St. John and decides to pursue
them in the park, while at the same time Roscoe sneaks away from his nagging
wife to have a high ol’ time. One thing leads to another and soon Roscoe, Al
and Buster are all rivals for the hand of the fickle Alice.
The actors play off each other’s skills well
and share equal amounts of screentime, and as a bonus we get to enjoy footage
of a sunny Edwardian-era Coney Island and Luna Park. Buster does a standing
backflip at one point, just because he can. With such a creative training
ground and such good-natured talent all around him, it’s not hard to see why he
was happy with his decision to leave the stage for motion pictures–and never
look back.
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.
Noir Nook: Ripped from the Headlines Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
If you know your Alfred Hitchcock, you might be aware that
of all the movies he directed between 1925 and 1976, he considered his favorite
to be Shadow of a Doubt (1943), starring Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotten.
What you might not know is that the murderer at the center of the film was
inspired by real-life serial killer Earle (some spell it “Earl”) Nelson, who embarked
on a crime spree during the 1920s that started in Philadelphia and wound up in
Winnipeg, Canada.
Shadow of a Doubt focuses on Charlotte “Charlie” Newton
(Wright), whose humdrum life gets more of a jolt that she bargained for in the
form of her beloved uncle and namesake, Charles (Cotten). Charlie is delighted
when her relative pays an unexpected visit to her hometown of Santa Rosa,
California, and she’s not alone – his charms have the town’s female population clinging
to him like Saran Wrap to a lemon meringue pie. Still, before long, red flags
start popping up and swiping at Charles’s stellar image, beginning with the
ruby ring he gives to Charlie – which bears someone else’s initials. As the
days pass and the flags further unfurl, Charlie is forced to admit that there’s
far more to her uncle than meets the eye – like, a penchant for MURDER.
And speaking of murder, the inspiration for the deadly Uncle
Charles – Earle Nelson – kicked off his career in crime in the fall of 1925,
when he was almost 30 years old; in the span of less than a month, he left the
bodies of three middle-aged women in his wake. From Philadelphia, Nelson worked
his way from coast to coast, attacking and killing a total of 24 women and one
child in Chicago, San Francisco, Baltimore, Oakland, and Buffalo before making
his way to Canada, where he was finally captured nearly two years later.
The Hitchcock film fleshes out the story of Charles Newton
to include his relationships with his niece, his sister (Patricia Collinge),
and other family members; one of the added storylines focuses on Charlie’s father
(Henry Travers) and his best friend (Hume Cronyn, in his screen debut), who wile
away their hours together by pondering the perfect murder. But Charles Newton
and his real-life counterpart have several important qualities in common. First
off, when Earle Nelson was 10 years old, he ran into a streetcar while riding
his bicycle – the accident left him with a hole in his temple, and he was
unconscious for six days. Afterwards, he suffered from frequent headaches and
memory lapses, and displayed odd behaviors, like talking to invisible people
and impulsively quoting verses from the Bible. Nelson’s screen counterpart was
involved in a similar accident, crashing into a streetcar while on his bicycle
and fracturing his skull. His sister, Emma, recalled that before the accident, Charles
was a quiet boy with an affinity for books, but after his lengthy recovery, he
became boisterous and full of mischief: “He didn’t do much reading after that,
let me tell you,” Emma said.
Another significant likeness between Earle Nelson and Charles
Newton focuses on their murderous modus operandi. Nelson zeroed in on houses
that displayed a “Rooms for Rent” sign and carried out his deadly deeds after
gaining access as a potential tenant. And although Newton spends most of the
movie with his family in Santa Rosa, the establishing shot in his first scene
shows that he is residing in a house that rents rooms. Finally, both Nelson and
Newton had a nickname based on their criminal deeds; Nelson was known as “The
Gorilla Strangler” (among others), and Newton was “The Merry Widow Killer.”
Shadow of a Doubt started from a nine-page treatment
called “Uncle Charlie,” by novelist Gordon McDonell. The idea first came to
McDonnell when his car broke down near the small town of Hanford, California, during
a vacation to the Sierra Nevada mountains. McDonnell’s wife, Margaret – who
worked as head of the story department for producer David O. Selznick – told Hitchcock
about her husband’s idea, and McDonnell pitched it to the director over lunch
at the famed Brown Derby restaurant. After McDonnell submitted his treatment to
Hitchcock, the director reached out to Thornton Wilder – Pulitzer Prize-winning
author of Our Town – and he and Hitchcock worked on scouting locations
and building the story into a screenplay. Other collaborators on the film’s
script were Hitchcock’s wife, Alma Reville; and Sally Benson, perhaps best
known for writing the young adult book, Junior Miss.
Incidentally, both Earle Nelson and Charles Newton met with
an untimely end – Nelson was hanged after he was found guilty by a jury that
deliberated for less than an hour. And Uncle Charlie . . .
Well – in case you haven’t seen the movie, I’ll leave you to
discover Uncle Charlie’s demise on your own.
Stay tuned for my next look at a film noir Ripped from the Headlines!
…
– 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: The Mirror Crack’d (1980)
While it’s
not actually a film from the Golden Age of Hollywood, the 1980 Miss Marple
whodunnit, The Mirror Crack’d, is set in 1953 and boasts a cast of
powerhouse classic stars from that era, including Angela Lansbury as Agatha
Christie’s iconic detective. It belongs to the vogue for lavish, star-studded
Christie adaptations that produced Murder on the Orient Express (1974)
and Death on the Nile (1978) and preceded Kenneth Branagh’s revival of
those Hercule Poirot adventures starting in 2017. Of course, we can trace the
roots of Rian Johnson’s tremendously successful Benoit Blanc movies to these
pictures, too, so it’s well worth the effort to revisit the earlier Christie
adaptations in order to better appreciate the evolution and enduring appeal of
this particular subgenre of murder mystery. The Mirror Crack’d is
especially suited to the interests of classic movie fans because its plot revolves
around movie actors and filmmaking, with Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, Kim
Novak, Tony Curtis, and Geraldine Chaplin enthusiastically skewering the
stereotypical characters of their own industry. While Hollywood has certainly
produced more lauded Christie adaptations, The Mirror Crack’d remains
one of my personal favorites for its cast and the opportunity to see Angela
Lansbury tackle a different detective from the one she famously played on the
television series, Murder, She Wrote (1984-1996).
Makeup helps to transform the 55-year-old Angela Lansbury into the elderly Miss Marple.
Taking its
title from Tennyson’s poem, “The Lady of Shalott,” The Mirror Crack’d
sees Miss Marple’s village, St. Mary Mead, in a flutter over the Hollywood
crowd who are in town to shoot a movie about Mary, Queen of Scots, starring
celebrated actress Marina Gregg (Elizabeth Taylor). Miss Marple (Angela
Lansbury) twists an ankle and misses the party where a local guest suddenly
dies, but that doesn’t stop her from investigating the crime with some help
from her maid, Cherry (Wendy Morgan), and her nephew, Inspector Dermot Craddock
of Scotland Yard (Edward Fox). Soon, it looks like Marina must have been the
intended target, but her circle includes many suspects who might have a motive
for wanting her dead.
Kim Novak and Elizabeth Taylor play rival actresses who passionately hate each other.
The cast of
this picture is just packed with A-list stars, even in places you might not
expect them. Angela Lansbury was only 55 when she played the elderly Miss
Marple, but makeup and costume help her look decades older than Elizabeth
Taylor, who was really just seven years younger than Lansbury. The pair had
even played sisters in National Velvet (1944), which was Lansbury’s
second screen role and the fifth for Taylor. Due to Miss Marple’s injury, the
two leading ladies don’t get much screen time together in this picture, but
Taylor does have lots of scenes with Rock Hudson, who plays her husband/director,
Jason Rudd, and with Kim Novak, who plays her hated rival, Lola Brewster. Taylor
and Novak lean into the trope of rival actresses who absolutely loathe one
another, trading barbs and loaded lines in every scene they share. Tony Curtis
is also hamming it up in his role as the film’s shallow, jaded producer, Marty
Fenn, leaving Hudson’s character as the only likeable one of the group, which
partly explains the devotion of his loyal assistant, Ella (Geraldine Chaplin). The
supporting players include a number of well-known English actors, including
Edward Fox and Charles Gray, and you will even find a very young Pierce Brosnan
making his second screen appearance in an uncredited but easily spotted role.
Of the less familiar actors, Fox gives an especially fun performance as Miss
Marple’s nephew, who gushes about movies like a true film fan but also uses his
knowledge to help his investigation.
Ella (Geraldine Chaplin) answers questions for Scotland Yard inspector Dermot Craddock (Edward Fox).
Lansbury is
another in a long line of actresses to play Miss Marple, from Margaret
Rutherford and Helen Hayes to Joan Hickson, Geraldine McEwan, and Julia
McKenzie, and of course fans have their favorite incarnations (personally I
like both McEwan and McKenzie very much). While it’s true that Lansbury was
really too young for the part in 1980, she’s such a dedicated actress that I
think she manages to be convincing, even though it would have been fascinating
to have her return to the role several decades later, perhaps around the time
she appeared in Nanny McPhee (2005). Lansbury’s career saw her tackle a
wide variety of roles on film, stage, and television, but she has a special
place in the mystery genre thanks to her long-running role as Jessica Fletcher
on Murder, She Wrote, and it’s worth noting that her very last screen
appearance was a cameo as one of Benoit Blanc’s friends in Glass Onion (2022). Unlike Peter Ustinov, who got to play Hercule Poirot six
times between 1978 and 1986, Lansbury only played Miss Marple once, perhaps
because The Mirror Crack’d didn’t do very well at the box office. That’s
a shame, too, because Christie wrote so many great Miss Marple mysteries that
don’t sideline the heroine with an injury, and it would have been wonderful to
see Lansbury put more of her own stamp on the role in adaptations of The
Murder at the Vicarage, A Pocket Full of Rye, or Sleeping Murder.
Lansbury does, however, appear in a different Agatha Christie adaptation, the
1978 version of Death on the Nile with Ustinov as Poirot, in which
Lansbury appears as Salome Otterbourne.
An uncredited Pierce Brosnan makes a brief but memorable appearance in a scene with Elizabeth Taylor.
Agatha Christie’s works continue to inspire new adaptations, including the most recent 2026 Netflix miniseries, Agatha Christie’s Seven Dials, but the best classic movie adaptation of a Christie story is the gripping 1957 version of Witness for the Prosecution starring Tyrone Power, Marlene Dietrich, and Charles Laughton. For more of my favorite Angela Lansbury films, see Gaslight (1944), The Harvey Girls (1946), The Court Jester (1955), and Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971). For more star-studded mysteries, check out The Last of Sheila (1973), Gosford Park (2001), and the 2025 Netflix adaptation of Richard Osman’s novel, The Thursday Murder Club. I don’t want to spoil a major plot twist, but I will close by mentioning that certain events in the 1962 novel, The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side, and the 1980 adaptation closely resemble a real-life Hollywood tragedy involving Gene Tierney that many classic films fans will recognize immediately.
Classic Horror Movies Gain New Life on Physical Media
Just because we love classic horror – especially low-budget B-movies – doesn’t mean we have to watch bad prints of the films that we’re used to seeing online or in a public domain version.
While searching for new video releases of old horror films to add to my collection, I was surprised at how much new is on the horizon thanks to the ongoing efforts of Film Masters, Kino Lorber, Arrow Video and the legendary Hammer Films.
These labels don’t only release the films on physical media, they are usually remastered or restored, so you’ll often see the best available version of the film. Plus they come with all-important exclusive extras like interviews, featurettes, collectible booklets and image galleries. You would be pleased to see how much new content is included. Here’s a quick look at some of what I’ve found with additional info about the extras.
The new Monster Mayhem Collection is the first home video release in the Wade Williams Collection from Film Masters. (Image courtesy of Film Masters.)
Film Masters is one of my favorite places to look for classic horror films because the label is focused on film preservation and restoration. Plus I’m a big fan of one of its specialties: B-horror movies from the 1950s. It recently announced an exclusive distribution deal with the estate of late filmmaker and film collector Wade Williams.
Two of the movies are by director Richard E. Cunha, nicknamed the “six-day wonder” for how quickly he could make a film. In Frankenstein’s Daughter an innocent California teen is experimented on by a man continuing his ancestor’s experiments set against the backdrop of pool parties and hot rods. Giant from the Unknown finds a 500-year-old Conquistador resurrected by a lightning strike.
Fans of big-bug movies can see giant wasps in Monster from Green Hell, part of the Monster Mayhem Collection. (Image: Film Masters)
In Monster from Green Hill, wasps sent into space to test radiation exposure turn into giant creatures. The Brain from Planet Arous has two alien brains – one evil and one good – arriving on Earth.
The four movies are presented in a 4K scan from 35mm archival prints in their original, theatrical aspect ratios. Special features include full-length archival commentaries by film historians Tom Weaver, Stephen R. Bissette and Gary Crutcher, and four original mini-documentaries from Ballyhoo Motion Pictures (Richard E. Cunha: Filmmaker; Missouri Born: The Films of Jim Davis; The Man Before the Brain: Director Nathan Juran; and The Man Behind the Brain: The World of Nathan Juran). Also included is a collectible booklet insert with a new essay by Tom Weaver on the films.
In a press release announcing this distribution deal, Film Masters mentioned future restorations and releases in the Wade Williams Collection could include Plan 9 from Outer Space, The Crawling Eye, Champagne for Caesar and The Day It Came to Earth. Yes, please.
Coming in April from Hammer Films is the two-disc set Blood from The Mummy’s Tomb. (Image: Hammer Films.)
HAMMER FILMS
Since being acquired in 2023 by British theater producer and
lifelong Hammer Film fan John Gore, Hammer has been busy getting movies into
the hands of fans through home video releases.
As part of its limited collector editions that debuted last fall, Hammer released a spectacular six-disc set of The Curse of Frankenstein with a 168-page booklet, 68-page comic and many commentaries, interviews and featurettes. Hammer also has also a great series of very affordable one- and two-disc sets with impressive extras.
An archaeologist’s daughter may be the reincarnation of a queen whose tomb was discovered by her father in this film based on Bram Stoker’s The Jewel of Seven Stars. The double-disc set includes a 64-page booklet with new essays and the original press kit, along with new features such as “Valerie Leon: Inside the Mummy’s Tomb” and “That’s a Wrap: Kim Newman explores Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb.” It also has an audio commentary with author/film historian Steve Haberman, and interviews with Valerie Leon and Christopher Wicking.
Crucible of HorrorAKA The Corpse (1971). Available April 20.
This is part of The Hammer Presents Collection which was started in late 2025 to showcase British horror films that weren’t made by Hammer, but “are similar in style and substance to the classic Hammer horrors,” according to the Hammer Films website which is well worth checking out to learn more about Hammer.. These films are restorations scanned from the original film negatives.
Crucible of Horror is a 2K restoration from the
original negative and includes new commentary with William Fowler and Vic Pratt
who are co-authors of The Bodies Beneath and creators/curators of the British
Film Institute’s ongoing Flipside video series.
The Snake Woman was not made by Hammer Films, but since it carries “the spirit” of the legendary studio, it was chosen to get a restoration on Hammer Presents home video.
Also in Hammer Presents are these two films directed by Sidney J. Furie that are getting separate releases with restorations from original scans.
In Doctor Blood’s Coffin, a doctor sets up a lab in a small Cornish village to revive the dead – with unwilling victims, of course. Hazel Court co-stars. It has a new commentary with Jonathan Rigby, an actor, film historian and author (English Gothic), and Kevin Lyons, editor of the website Encyclopedia of Fantastic Film and Television.
The Snake Woman is born after a doctor injects his wife with snake venom to cure her insanity and she gives birth to a baby born ice cold and without eyelids – like a reptile. You can see where this is going. It has a new commentary by writer, filmmaker and film programmer Heidi Honeycutt and TV and film critic Sarah Morgan.
Actors are stalked while rehearsing for a mysterious theater
group at a deserted seaside resort. It has an audio commentary by film historians
Kat Ellinger and Martyn Conterio; “Flesh, Blood and Censorship,” an interview
with director Pete Walker; and interviews with actors Jenny Hanley and Stewart
Bevan, and third assistant director Terry Madden. For this Kino Cult release,
the 3-D sequences have been newly aligned by the 3-D Film Archive and are
presented in both stereoscopic and anaglyph formats.
Things go horribly wrong when a film crew makes a movie inside a mansion where seven members of a family died. When will people learn not to read The Tibetan Book of the Dead? The cast starsJohn Ireland, Faith Domergue and John Carradine. Extras include new audio commentary by author and film historian David Del Valle with producer and director David DeCoteau. There’s also an archival interview with John Carradine and commentary by associate producer Gary Kent.
Hold that Ghost is the first “comedy-horror” film from Abbott and Costello. (Image: Kino Lorber.)
Abbott and Costello in Hold That Ghost (1941). Available April 28.
In their first comedy-horror film, the affable duo inherits a mobster’s abandoned roadhouse where loot is rumored to be hidden. Chaos will ensue. Joining them are Richard Carlson, Joan Davis, Evelyn Ankers and the Andrews Sisters. It’s from a 4K scan of the original 35mm camera negative. New commentaries are by author and film historian Alan K. Rode and another by film historian Samm Dighan.
Arrow Video is a British film distribution label that specializes in cult, classic and horror movies. Here’s one release that caught my eye.
Salem’s Lot (1979). Coming March 31.
Tobe Hooper’s terrifying TV miniseries with its chilling Nosferatu-like character gets a4K restoration in this two-disc set that also includes the shorter international theatrical cut. It’s absolutely packed with extras including fun stuff like a Salem’s Lot town sign sticker, a double-sided fold-out poster, the original shooting script gallery and a booklet with new writing on the film by critics Sean Abley, Sorcha Ni Fhlainn and Richard Kadrey,
Archival material includes interviews with director Tobe Hooper and stars Lance Kerwin and Julie Cobb. New features are plentiful and include commentaries by film critics Bill Ackerman and Amanda Reyes, another by film critic Chris Alexander. “King of the Vampires” is an interview with Stephen King biographer Douglas Winter. “New England Nosferatu” is an interview with filmmaker Mick Garris. “Fear Lives Here” looks at the locations of Salem’s Lot today. “Second Coming” is a new appreciation by author and critic Grady Hendrix.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at
The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a member
and board chair of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and led the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs.
She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the
spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can
find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto or on Bluesky at @watchingforever.bsky.social
Every year or so I like to review a new-to-me Audie Murphy film
in my Western RoundUp column.
My previous Murphy review, Apache
Rifles (1964), was published last April. This year I’ve watched one of Murphy’s more
unusual Western films, Walk the Proud Land (1956), for the first time.
My late father told me Walk the Proud Land was “a superior film,” and I
agree.
Audie Murphy was one of our greatest Western stars, yet even
so I feel he’s somewhat underappreciated.
Thanks to Kino Lorber Studio Classics, his films have become easier for
home viewers to obtain — and what’s more, in wonderful copies. It’s my hope that these fine Blu-ray releases
will bring more attention, along with new admirers, to Murphy’s films.
Walk the Proud Land is part of Kino Lorber’s Audie Murphy Collection V, along with two other strong entries, Seven Ways From Sundown (1960) and Bullet for a Badman (1964). A link for my past Western RoundUp review of Seven Ways From Sundown is at the bottom of this post.
Murphy was 31 when he made Walk the Proud Land. He plays John Philip Clum, a religious
Easterner who in 1874 becomes an agent on an Arizona Indian reservation, where
he helps the tribe return to self-governing principles.
Audie Murphy and Charles Drake
The screenplay by Gil Doud and Jack Sher was inspired by a biography
by John Clum’s son Woodworth, titled Apache Agent.
For those who are interested, over a decade ago the late
Western historian Jeff Arnold, who passed away in 2024, wrote about this film
at his site, Jeff
Arnold’s West, and shared some of the history of the real John Clum. Suffice it to say that Walk the Proud Land
seems to have done a fairly reasonable job accurately depicting parts of Clum’s
story, while dramatizing other aspects.
As the movie opens, Clum (Murphy) arrives in Tucson looking
very much like an Eastern dude, complete with bowler hat.
Addison Richards, Audie Murphy, and Morris Ankrum
Despite initially seeming rather out of place, Clum proves
to be an unflappable man of principle, guided by his Dutch Reformed Church
beliefs. The governor (Addison Richards)
and Army General Wade (Morris Ankrum) are highly skeptical of the Department of
Interior putting churches in charge of Indian reservations, but Clum is firm
about his plans to treat the Indians on an equal basis as fellow human beings.
Upon arriving at the San Carlo Apache reservation, Clum
orders Chief Eskiminzin (Robert Warwick) and his men unchained and tells
Eskiminzin that the chief will govern his people once more.
There is ongoing conflict with the military over how to
treat the Indians, but Clum persists in making changes, including re-arming the
Apaches.
Disalin (Anthony Caruso), a member of the tribe, takes
advantage of this and tries to encourage his fellow tribe members to kill Clum,
but instead Disalin is killed by his own brother, Taglito (Tommy Rall). After this
incident Clum and Taglito become blood brothers in a formal ceremony.
Clum also has conflict on the home front, as Tianay (Anne
Bancroft), an Apache widow with a young boy (Eugene Mazzola), wants to be
Clum’s wife but has to settle for keeping house for him.
Clum’s fiancée Mary (Patricia Crowley) arrives but after the
wedding is shocked to realize Tianay has been living under the same roof as her
new husband. Indeed, Tianay makes clear to Mary that she would also like to be
Clum’s wife.
Matters come to a head in terms of both military-Indian
relations and Clum’s relationships with Mary and Tianay when Clum courageously
sets out to capture Geronimo (Jay Silverheels).
Geronimo (Jay Silverheels)
I found Walk the Proud Land quite engrossing. It’s an
interesting story, well told over its 88 minutes, and most of it was filmed in
authentic-looking locations at Old Tucson and other areas in Arizona.
Murphy is outstanding as a quietly determined man who
repeatedly won’t take “no” for an answer. While he does have a couple brawling
action scenes, Clum is a man of peace and his character patiently and
repeatedly does what he believes is right, hoping for the best outcome.
Pat Crowley, Charles Drake, and Audie Murphy
It takes Clum’s bride Mary (Crowley) a bit of time to catch
up with her husband’s attitudes; she loves him but is dismayed by the way his
refusal to offend the Apaches extends to not wanting to offend Tianay with
overt rejection. He instead lets Tianay
know that in his tradition he can have only one wife and trusts her to
eventually work things out from there and move on.
Besides the conflict with another woman, Mary is also
frightened her husband’s actions could leave her widowed. In a scene reminiscent of Katy Jurado’s
confrontation with Grace Kelly in High
Noon (1952), Tianay convinces Mary that it’s her role to stand by her
man.
Pat Crowley and Anne Bancroft
Murphy’s good friend Charles Drake, who appeared with him in
multiple films, here plays a former Army sergeant who becomes his aide. Drake
is relaxed and engaging, providing a supportive contrast to Murphy’s quieter
character.
As was common for the era, many of the Indian roles, with
the exception of Jay Silverheels, were played by non-Indian actors. I thought
Robert Warwick was excellent as the aging Indian chief.
I was also fascinated by the casting of dancer Tommy Rall as
Taglito, who becomes Clum’s blood brother.
Rall is best known for his exceptional dancing in movie musicals such as
Kiss Me Kate (1953), Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), and My
Sister Eileen (1955).
Tommy Rall
Except for a brief scene where Rall performs a war dance,
this is strictly a dramatic role, and I found him quite credible.
Walk the Proud Land was well directed by Jesse
Hibbs. It was filmed by Harold Lipstein
in Technicolor. The movie was shot in
late 1955 and released in the fall of 1956.
The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has an excellent widescreen print
with a strong soundtrack. The disc
includes the trailer, which was newly mastered in 2K, plus five additional
trailers for other Audie Murphy films. There’s also a commentary track by Gary
Gerani.
Thanks to Kino Lorber for providing a review copy of this Blu-ray.
…
– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.
Silent Superstars: Rudolph Valentino, The Ultimate Screen Idol
Rudolph Valentino
How fortunate it was that a young Italian
movie actor christened Rodolfo Alfonso Raffaello Pierre Filibert Guglielmi di
Valentina d’Antonguella settled on the elegant “Rudolph Valentino” for his
screen name. Not many people today are familiar with images of Valentino’s
face, but everyone’s heard of the romantic name, and some will perhaps
recognize vague descriptions of him as the “Great Lover” from the long-ago days
of the silent screen. One of the near-mythical film icons who tragically passed
away far too young, he made an extraordinary impact in his day and those who
take the time to view his best films will doubtless understand why.
Posing as Julio in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921).
He was born to a middle class family in
Castellaneta, Italy, in 1895, the same year films were first being exhibited.
He and his siblings Alberto and Maria were very close to their mother,
especially after their father tragically passed away from malaria. The teenaged
Rodolfo preferred the outdoors and working with his hands to sitting in school,
and while he tried studying professional landscaping he couldn’t shake off his
longing for a greater adventure. At age 18 he boarded a ship to New York City
to seek his fortune.
The young Italian would work a series of odd
jobs, and thanks to his natural grace and coordination became a dance
instructor and taxi dancer (a “for hire” dancing partner, a mildly frowned-upon
occupation at the time). This line of work led to his first brush with public
drama when he became a witness in the sensational divorce trial of heiress
Blanca de Saulles. Seeking a fresh start–on the opposite side of the country–he
dabbled in the California theater scene and decided to try breaking into motion
pictures. He shyly but insistently hung around Hollywood movie studios until he
started getting work as an extra. His first modest break was as an extra in the
feature Alimony (1918), where he was paid five dollars a day.
Still from A Married Virgin (1918).
It only took a few small roles for directors
to typecast the young Italian as a “Latin” villain in films like The Married
Virgin (1918), Eyes of Youth (1919), and Once to Every Woman (1920).
He attempted to work with the renowned D.W. Griffith, but the director
infamously dismissed him as “too foreign looking” and felt certain that “The
girls would never like him.” Nevertheless, Rodolfo persisted–and he also
managed to settle on a screen name. Few actors had their names so prone to
different spellings: “De Valentina,” “Volantino,” “di Valentina,” and
“Valentine” would be paired variously with “Rodolfo,” “Rodolph” or “Rudolpho.”
Finally he chose the catchy “Rudolph Valentino,” although he liked the nickname
“Rudy.”
With Dorothy Phillips in Once to Every Woman (1920).
In early 1918 Valentino’s beloved mother died,
devastating him. He would also enter a doomed marriage with actress Jean Acker,
part of the inner circle of the theatrical queen bee Alla Nazimova. But luck
finally came his way: in 1921 the great screenwriter June Mathis recommended
him for the role of the fiery libertine Julio Desnoyers in The Four Horsemen
of the Apocalypse (1921). His impressively charismatic performance was a
sensation, particularly his sensuous tango scenes. Mathis had correctly sensed
that female audiences were tired of the pale, well-starched heroes on the
screens and wanted something new. Valentino’s Four Horseman costar Alice
Terry would recall, “I always had the impression that I was playing with a
volcano that might erupt at any minute. It never did, but that was the secret
of his appeal.”
After this breakout role Valentino appeared in
the Art Deco drama Camille (1921) starring Alla Nazimova. He was drawn
to its set designer, the statuesque Natacha Rambova, and it wasn’t long before
they were in a relationship despite his shakey marriage to Jean Acker. He then
signed with Famous Players-Lasky, which promptly starred him in the romance The
Sheik (1921). The film’s tale of an impetuous young Englishwoman captured
by a sensual desert sheik was a huge sensation, although Valentino’s
performance is somewhat giggle-worthy today thanks to director George Melford’s
liking for histrionics.
Rudolph Valentino and Agnes Ayres in The Sheik (1921).
The Sheik would
leave a major mark on 1920s pop culture, coinciding with the era’s interest in
“exotic” Eastern cultures. Young men who styled their hair like Valentino,
slicked back and very glossy, were dubbed “sheiks,” and young flappers were
called “shebas.” “The Sheik of Araby” was a hugely popular song, and desert
romances were all the rage on screen–even the reputable Milton Sills tried his
hand at being a dangerous screen sheik.
Rudolph Valentino and Lila Lee in Blood and Sand (1922).
Valentino’s subsequent films had him star in
Gloria Swanson in Beyond the Rocks (1922) and play the red-blooded
toreador Gallardo in his personal favorite film, Blood and Sand (1922).
Thanks to his success and likely also to
Rambova’s influence, Valentino began asking for larger salaries and more
artistic control over his films. Butting heads with the studios led to going
“on strike” from films for a time and going on a tour with Natacha, who was now
his second wife. Dubbed the Mineralava Dance Tour (sponsored by a beauty
company), it featured the famous couple giving demonstrations of the famous
tango. They attracted massive crowds wherever they went.
With Natacha Rambova
Back in Hollywood he would star in films like
the historical drama Monsieur Beaucaire (1924) and popular action drama The
Eagle (1925), but by this point the strain of his fame was beginning to
show. His marriage to Natasha would crumble in 1926, another shattering
personal event. He told one reporter frankly: “A man should control his life.
My life is controlling me.”
In 1926 he decided to star in The Son of
the Sheik, the sequel to The Sheik. Beautifully shot and full of
drama, romance and action, it was promising to be a sensational hit.
Valentino’s performance was nothing short of magnificent, full of all the
charisma, menace and sensual allure his fans could desire. It also presented a
unique challenge since he played a dual role of both the elderly sheik Ahmed
Ben Hassan and his virile son, Ahmed.
Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Bánky in The Son of the Sheik (1926).
As the film was rolled out to the first run
theaters, Valentino embarked on a promotional tour that was packed with social
events. In mid-August 1926, he was at a party in New York City when he became
seriously ill. At the hospital doctors discovered a perforated stomach ulcer
the size of a dime. He had been suffering stomach pains for a long time,
attempting to treat himself with bicarbonate of soda. Despite an operation he
developed severe peritonitis, and on August 23, 1926, Rudolph Valentino passed away
at 12:10 p.m. His last words may have been: “Don’t pull the blinds! I feel
fine. I want the sunlight to greet me.”
The hysteria that attended his death is
remembered even today. The public was allowed to view his body lying in state
at Frank E. Campbell’s Funeral Church and a reported 100,000 people showed up,
leading to a riot. His funeral train heading to Hollywood was visited by
countless fans at each stop along the way, from the East to the West coast of
the country. He was finally laid to rest in the Cathedral Mausoleum at the
Hollywood Forever cemetery, in a chamber donated by June Mathis.
The fame in his lifetime, reputation for being
the greatest “Latin Lover” of the screen, and sudden, shocking death have all
naturally catapulted Rudolph Valentino to “icon” status, a status which has
practically become mythical. Images of his face rarely circulate among the
regular public nowadays and his movies may be known mostly to film buffs, yet
mercifully, that legendary status remains.
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.
John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing’ honored by the National Film Registry
At an isolated Antarctic research station, scientists battle
a deadly alien with such extraordinary shape-shifting capabilities that the men
don’t know if the person next to them is still human. The truth is only revealed
when the alien is threatened and violently abandons its current inhabitant.
As played out in John Carpenter’s bleak 1982 film The
Thing, these scenes are shocking. The alien bursts from its warm hideout inside
man or beast with pieces of previous victims gushing out and sinewy tentacles whipping
through the room in search of another victim to absorb. Yes, it looks as gross
as it sounds and that’s the marvel of this film made in the predigital and CGI-age.
Kurt Russell led the fight against the alien in John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”
To say Carpenter’s film was ahead of its time is one of the biggest understatements in film history. The alien effects created by whiz kid Rob Bottin were so grotesquely unique that audiences and critics recoiled from them resulting in vicious reviews and empty theaters. Add in the insurmountable box-office competition from that lovable little alien in “E.T.” and the dismal fate was sealed for The Thing.
Now, 54 years later, the world seems ready for it.
The Thing is one of 25 films named to the 2025 National Film Registry in recognition of its place as a film that is “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant.” It is also the only horror/sci-film on this year’s list. The designation means it will be preserved by National Film Preservation Board allowing it to be discovered by future generations. The Thing was the No. 1 choice by fans who nominated 7,559 titles. That is not an automatic qualifier since it is the Librarian of Congress who makes the final choices based on recommendations by the NFP board and the public. However, fan response to The Thing was strong and notable.
Jacqueline Stewart, chair of the NFP board, recognized the
accomplishment when she said, “It is especially exciting to see that the top
title nominated by the public for this year, The Thing, has been added
to the National Film Registry.”
Why was it chosen? Here’s what the press release announcing
the 2025 Film Registry said about The Thing.
Moody, stark, often funny and always chilling, this
science fiction horror classic follows Antarctic scientists who uncover a
long-dormant, malevolent extraterrestrial presence. “The Thing” revolutionized
horror special effects and offers a brutally honest portrait of the results of
paranoia and exhaustion when the unknown becomes inescapable. “The Thing”
deftly adapts John W. Campbell’s 1938 novella “Who Goes There?” and
influenced “Stranger Things” and “Reservoir Dogs.” It remains a
tense, thrilling and profoundly unsettling work of cinema.
Filming The Thing
By 1981, 33-year-old filmmaker John Carpenter was already recognized as a master of horror, and more importantly in the film industry, a proven box-office commodity thanks to the success of Halloween(1978), The Fog (1980) and Escape from New York (1981). His next project was a remake of The Thing from Another World(1951), based on the 1938 novella by John W. Campbell Jr. called Who Goes There?
James Arness as the alien in the 1951 film The Thing From Another World.
Playing the alien in the 1951 film was a pre-GunsmokeJames Arness whose 6-foot, 7-inch frame allowed the creature to appear a threat in size and strength. Although it looked like a relative of Frankenstein’s monster with a strange-shaped head, the alien didn’t exhibit any powers. Still, the idea of it was enough for the film to be a hit. Even The New York Times prickly critic Boswell Crowther had good things to say, writing that it was “generous with thrills and chills.” Long considered a classic of the sci-fi genre, it was named to the National Film Registry in 2001.
For Carpenter’s 1982 remake, expectations were high. Fans loved his films. And the director had hired the 22-year-old Bottin who had revolutionized werewolf effects in The Howling (1981) with his pioneering practical effects where he used technology you could do with your hands, instead of animation and computers.
One of the gruesome discoveries in The Thing includes the dog victims.
There was much buzz with leading genre magazines including Fangoria and Cinefantastique among those filled with early stories and special sections about what promised to be groundbreaking effects. Bottin and his staff used latex, rubber, wire, puppets and mechanics to invent things that had not been seen on film. Innocent everyday household items like heated Bubble Yum gum, melted crayons, mayonnaise, cream corn and “vats” of K-Y jelly helped create the startling effects.
In the end, the work was as promised: innovative, original, trailblazing.
But it was also gruesome and too much for audiences and critics. Reviews were
as eviscerating to the film as its shape-shifting creature was to the victims
it inhabited, ripped open and annihilated while morphing into other shapes.
It was “an extraordinary exercise in the grotesque,” wrote Peter
Stack of the San Francisco Chronicle.
Jay Boyar in the Buffalo Courier-Express termed it a
“gore-a-rama,” adding “It’s impossible not to be repulsed by The Thing.”
The spider-head is one of the most shocking effects in The Thing.
The reviewer from Motion Picture Digest didn’t hold back by
giving the film a “poor” rating. “It takes a strong stomach to sit through John
Carpenter’s The Thing which has the most repellent and downright
nauseating shock effects yet devised for a horror movie from a major Hollywood
studio.”
We know that bad reviews don’t necessarily doom a film, but timing was everything for The Thing. It was released the same day as Ridley Scott’s masterpiece Blade Runner and Clint Eastwood’s Firefox, and just two weeks after E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial.
Audiences, who had their heartstrings tugged by the beloved
E.T., did not want to see an alien wrap its tentacles around dogs or burst from
a human. The disappointing $20.9 million at the box office barely covered its $15
million budget.
Carpenter was devastated, as was his cast and the crew that had
worked around the clock for more than a year, resulting in Bottin being
hospitalized for exhaustion.
Director John Carpenter in a press photo from The Thing.
The film quickly disappeared from theaters. Carpenter lost the
next movie he was going to direct, Stephen King’s Firestarter, and the
experience took a long-lasting emotional toll on him. In an often-quoted 1985 interview
with Starlog, Carpenter said “I had no idea it would be received that
way … The Thing was just too strong for that time.”
That’s no longer the case as illustrated by the National Film Registry honor, one that means quite a lot to those involved with making the original film. Here’s what Carpenter posted on his official Facebook page on Jan. 30:
As you may have heard, “The Thing” has been added to the Library of Congress. We made the movie to push against the edges of what we could pull off, and it carries that strain in its bones. Seeing it now treated with the same care and reverence we had making it, means a great deal to me and everyone who brought it to life. I especially want to remember TK Carter, who brought heart and humor into that desolate, frozen place and should be standing here with us today sharing in this recognition. Thank you to everyone who continues to keep it alive.
The Thing also has gained new fans through the years from home video releases (including a 2021 4K release), streaming and continued screenings. Plus a new five-hour documentary called The Thing Expanded is in the works.
In the 2020 book Fright Favorites (Turner Classic
Movies), film historian David J. Skal recognized that while the movie’s “unprecedented
level of grotesque special effects repelled reviewers and critics alike” on its
original release, that it was now “widely hailed as a visual-effects milestone
in imaginative cinema of the predigital era.”
The “split face” monster, created by Rob Bottin for The Thing, shows the faces of two victims that were assimilated by the alien.
“Bottin’s morphing monstrosities in The Thing, bring
to mind Salvador Dali’s melting timepieces given human shape, as well as the
ferocious, twisted forms of painter Francis Bacon in works like Three
Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion,” Skal wrote.
In a new interview for the Library of Congress, Richard Masur, who played the dog handler Clark in the film, called it called it one of the last great “rubber movies” referencing the fact that all special effects were made by hand.
“There is not a frame of CGI in this film and people who
care about that, and many of us do, are very impressed that this film is
finally being recognized for the extraordinary accomplishment that it
represents in film history,” Masur said in the interview.
Legacy of The Thing and Rob Bottin
It saddens me to know that the extraordinary creativity of Rob Bottin and the others who worked on The Thing was maligned or just ignored for so many years. Today, it’s routine to watch medical dramas where chests are cracked open, organs are removed and brains are drilled into for surgery. People love it and make these shows hits on television and streaming services. (In my case, I’m watching through nearly closed eyes until it’s over.)
It saddens me even more to watch old interviews with Bottin who comes off as a huge movie fan filled with energy and excitement for his work, as well as gratitude. He’s long been out of the public eye and the film industry and that’s a shame. I’m hoping this honor will continue to put the spotlight back on the film and Bottin’s work. It should be celebrated.
Also on the crew
Bottin didn’t do it alone. While there are too many talented people to mention, here are some of the names featured in interviews. Two of the most well-known times are Roy Arbogast who did many of the mechanical effects including the dogs, and Stan Winston who created “the dog-Thing.” Rob Borman and Dale Brady, both only 19 at the time, worked on the final version of the creature called the “Blair Monster” or “Blair-Thing,” one of the most startling versions of the alien. Others included Eric Jensen, Randy Cook, Carl Surges and Ernie Farino.
Vote for the National Film Registry
Nominations for the 2026 National Film Registry are accepted through Aug. 15, 2026. Go to loc.gov/film where you can find the online nomination form. The site provides links to the movies currently on the Registry as well as hundreds of titles not yet selected. Nominees must be at least 10 years old and be “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” You can nominate up to 50 films(!).
Films Selected for the 2025 National Film Registry
(chronological order)
It’s about that time, y’all! February at the Noir Nook means
our annual look at the noirs that are celebrating their 75th anniversary, and
have I got four winners for you from 1951!
Before I proceed, I’d like to toss a few honorable mentions
your way – if you’re ever in search of additional time-worthy noirs from 75
years back, these will fit the bill: Appointment with Danger (Alan Ladd
and Phyllis Calvert), Cry Danger (Dick Powell and Rhonda Fleming), Fourteen
Hours (Richard Basehart and Paul Douglas), The Mob (Broderick
Crawford and Richard Kiley), and Roadblock (Charles McGraw and Joan
Dixon). There’s nary a clunker in the bunch . . .
Ace in the Hole
Kirk Douglas and Richard Benedict, Ace in the Hole
This Billy Wilder-directed gem stars Kirk Douglas as Chuck Tatum,
an ambitious reporter whose past misdeeds on a string of big-city newspapers have
landed him in a ho-hum job on a small publication in “sun-baked Siberia” – also
known as Albuquerque, New Mexico. There, he spends most of his days pacing the
floor, kicking his chair in frustration, and trying to decide whether he should
cover the local soapbox derby or the tornado that “double-crossed us and went
to Texas.” All he wants for Christmas (and every other day) is that one big
story that will catapult him back to the big leagues – and he gets it when he learns
about a local trading post owner – Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) – who is
trapped underground after a cave-in.
That incident would make a satisfactory one-day story for
most reporters, but not Chuck. He teams up with corrupt sheriff Gus Kretzer
(Ray Teal), promising a reporting campaign that will ensure Kretzer reelection
if the sheriff gives him exclusive access to Minosa. Then, Chuck and Kretzer mastermind
a pivot in the rescue effort in favor of one that will take up to a week longer
to reach Minosa. And if you haven’t guessed that things are not going to turn
out well, you just haven’t been watching enough noir. The dark atmosphere is
heightened by the spate of tourists who flock to the scene of the cave-in, transforming
it into a carnival-like event complete with food vendors, rides for the kids,
and even a theme song (“We’re Coming, Leo!”). Oh – and I almost forgot to
mention Minosa’s less-than-devoted wife Lorraine (Jan Sterling), who’d planned
to walk out on her husband after learning about his accident, but was persuaded
to stay by the prospect of the big bucks she’d make from the influx of tourists
to the area.
Favorite quote: “I don’t go to church. Kneeling bags my
nylons.” – Lorraine Minosa (Jan Sterling)
He Ran All the Way
Shelley Winters, John Garfield, Wallace Ford, Robert Hyatt, He Ran All the Way
In his last feature film before his death at the age of 39,
John Garfield plays Nick Robey, a low-level hood who still lives at home with
his mother and embraces the concept of “from bad to worse” when he teams with a
pal to carry out a payroll robbery. He takes it on the lam when his buddy is
shot and a security guard is killed, but he doesn’t go far, seeking refuge at a
local public pool. There, he hides in plain sight, flirting the day away with a
shy and emotionally needy swimmer, Peg Dobbs (Shelley Winters) – who will come
to regret accepting Nick’s attentions after he walks her home and winds up
taking her family hostage.
The picture is unique in the presentation of its characters
– they’re not a cookie-cutter, predictable lot but, instead, offer personality
traits that are layered and outside of the norm. Peg, for example, initially comes
off as inexperienced and immature, but she demonstrates her mettle later on, as
the stakes get higher and the danger ramps up within the Dobbs household. And
you’d expect Peg’s mother, played by Selena Royle, to be frightened and
skittish, overcome with anxiety over the gun-wielding killer in her home;
instead, she demonstrates an unshakable combination of courage and outrage, and
doesn’t hesitate to do whatever she can to protect her family. But the most multifaceted
character is Nick – while he’s undeniably a criminal with a hair-trigger temper
and a penchant for poor decision-making, he manages to invoke the viewer’s
sympathy through his interactions with the family. In one scene, for instance,
he exhibits genuine concern after Mrs. Dobbs is injured in a sewing machine
mishap, and later, we see his pain when the family rejects the turkey dinner he
was so pleased to provide for them. He’s a heartbreaker – killer or no.
Favorite quote: “Everybody gets to the point where they draw
a line. When that line is drawn, you can’t force them any farther. Not even
with a gun.” – Fred Dobbs (Wallace Ford)
The Prowler
Van Heflin and Evelyn Keyes, The Prowler
This unique entry centers on housewife Susan Gilvray (Evelyn
Keyes), who gets more than she bargains for when she reports a suspected
prowler to police. One of the cops who responds to the call is Webb Garwood
(Van Heflin), and before you can say “Bob’s your uncle,” he and the very
married Susan are embroiled in a torrid affair. But they don’t have to sneak
around for long, because Susan’s husband winds up dead (three guesses as to
who’s responsible, and the first two don’t count). The absence of Mr. Gilvray
clears the way for Webb and Susan to tie the knot, but unfortunately for Susan,
she learns that there’s more to her groom than meets the eye. This becomes even
more apparent when Susan gets pregnant and Webb insists on relocating with his
bride to a remote cabin in the desert.
Heflin, in particular, turns in a standout performance in
this often-overlooked film – his Webb is one of noir’s most unsavory villains.
His persona is especially insidious because it’s cloaked behind the uniform and
the badge, and he’s not immediately seen as the bad guy he turns out to be.
Instead, red flags begin to crop up and the viewer, along with Susan, gradually
realizes what a lethal trap she’s in.
Favorite quote: “So, I’m no good! Well, I’m no worse than
anybody else! You work in a store, you knock down on the cash register. A big
boss, the income tax. Ward heeler, you sell votes. A lawyer, take bribes. I was
a cop . . . I used a gun. But whatever I did, I did for you.” – Webb Garwood
(Van Heflin)
Strangers on a Train
Farley Granger and Robert Walker, Strangers on a Train
One of my many favorite Alfred Hitchcock films (on any given
day, it’s definitely in the top three), this feature is based on the well-received
1950 debut novel by Patricia Highsmith. One of the two strangers of the title is
Guy Haines (Farley Granger), a tennis pro who’s stymied in his desire to marry
his girlfriend (Ruth Roman) because his shrewish – and pregnant – wife (Laura
Elliott), refuses to divorce him. (Did I mention that the baby isn’t Guy’s?)
The other stranger, Bruno Antony (Robert Walker), is charming and gregarious –
and a complete sociopath. When Guy and Bruno meet by accident aboard a train,
Bruno secures what he perceives as Guy’s approval for a foolproof “criss-cross”
murder idea, where Bruno will kill Guy’s wife and Guy will extend the same
treatment to Bruno’s hated father. And Bruno is nothing if not a man of action,
if you get my drift.
Hitchcock does a masterful job in helming this feature – the
subject of a first-rate 2025 book by Stephen Rebello – and Walker turns in the
performance of his career, creating a character that is at once appealing and
terrifying. In addition to Elliott and Hitchcock’s real-life daughter,
Patricia, the film’s standout performers include Marion Lorne (who played Aunt
Clara on TV’s Bewitched) as Bruno’s ditzy but harmless mother. And even
though Hitchcock didn’t get the ending he wanted (Warner Bros. studio head Jack
Warner insisted on a more lightweight conclusion), the entire production is
first-rate, from start to finish.
Favorite quote: “I may be old-fashioned, but I thought
murder was against the law.” – Guy Haines (Farley Granger)
And that’s it for this year’s celebration of films turning 75 this year – what are some of your favorite noirs from 1951? Leave a comment and let me know!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
Ernst Lubitsch is celebrated as the director of many of Hollywood’s great comedies, including Ninotchka (1939), To Be or Not to Be (1942), and Heaven Can Wait (1943), but he directed films in his native Germany for nearly a decade before his transition to Hollywood in 1922. Two of the best of Lubitsch’s early comedies, I Don’t Want to Be a Man (1918) and The Doll (1919), are available in a single Blu-ray set from Kino Lorber, and I recently treated myself to a copy during one of the company’s regular online sales. I had seen The Doll before and already knew it was a lot of fun, but I also thoroughly enjoyed the gender shenanigans in I Don’t Want to Be a Man. Even viewers who aren’t silent film aficionados can enjoy both of these lively pictures, but fans of Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd will especially enjoy this double feature. If you’re looking for accessible silent comedies or working to expand your appreciation of Lubitsch’s work, both of these movies will fit the bill, and they also offer a grand introduction to the energetic comedy genius of leading lady Ossi Oswalda, who starred in a dozen of Lubitsch’s silent films.
Both I Don’t Want to Be a Man and The Doll star the delightful Ossi Oswalda.
I Don’t
Want to Be a Man
is the shorter of the two features at just 41 minutes, with a story that skips
a lot of plot development to focus on the gags of its premise. Ossi Oswalda,
who is both the actress and the character, resents the limits enforced on her
by her guardians and escapes for a wild night on the town disguised as a man.
In The Doll, Ossi is the daughter of a famous dollmaker who accidentally
sells his real daughter to a nervous young man whose uncle insists that he get
married. Of the two, The Doll more fully embodies the expectations of a
feature film, with 70 minutes of story to develop characters like the unwilling
groom Lancelot (Hermann Thimig), the temperamental dollmaker Hilarius (Victor
Janson), Lancelot’s uncle (Max Kronert), and the scene-stealing dollmaker’s
apprentice (Gerhard Ritterband).
Ossi models while her father finishes up the doll version of her in The Doll.
Ossi
Oswalda, the star of both pictures, makes for a delightful heroine, especially
because both of her characters are quite badly behaved and utterly unrepentant
about it. Her girlish, naughty protagonists throw off the restrictions of
parents, guardians, social norms, and etiquette with glee, and they get what
they want out of life because of it. They are obvious forerunners of the iconic
screwball heroines later embodied by Carole Lombard, Irene Dunne, and Claudette
Colbert. Oswalda is a very physical comedian, and both the cross-dressing
adventure and her stint as a girl pretending to be a life-size doll give her
plenty of opportunities to use her whole body as part of the gag. Disguised as
a man, she swaggers about town and then gets outrageously drunk with her
unsuspecting guardian (Curt Goetz), which has her in a quandary when the
combination of booze and cigars sends her running for the public toilets.
Impersonating her broken dolly double, Ossi rapidly alternates between lively
action and mechanical stiffness depending on who is looking at her. When
Lancelot’s actions annoy or offend her, she reacts by moving so quickly that he
thinks his imagination is playing tricks on him. Both heroines embody the
chaotic joie de vivre of a cartoon character, creating upheaval wherever
they go but ultimately making life better for themselves and their romantic
partners.
Ossi engages in the manly pastime of cigar smoking in I Don’t Want to Be a Man.
Of the two
films, The Doll is the more stylistically complex and interesting in
terms of Lubitsch’s direction. In her
essay for the 2017
San Francisco Silent Film Festival, Farran Smith Nehme calls the movie
“deliciously weird for 1919 or any other year,” which accurately sums it up. Adapted
from a 19th century opera and set in an overtly fantastic world, it
unfolds like a puppet show version of a fairy tale but still takes full
advantage of the creative opportunities inherent in its cinematic medium. The
opening establishes the toy box nature of the setting, as Lubitsch himself sets
out a pair of dolls who then transform into Lancelot and his nanny on their way
to an audience with Lancelot’s aged and ailing uncle. Cardboard sets constantly
remind us not to expect realism here, but it’s still a laugh out loud shock to
see the “horses” that pull a carriage. Lancelot’s uncle, the Baron of
Chanterelle, is surrounded by greedy relatives who eagerly await his death, and
we experience their clamoring as a screen full of yammering mouths. The hair of
the dollmaker, Hilarius, first stands on end and then turns white in a rapid
transformation, and we also see him sleepwalk across rooftops and fly into the
air thanks to a handful of balloons. Aside from the antics of Ossi and
Lancelot, we’re witness to the increasingly violent conflict between Hilarius
and his unnamed apprentice, who alternates between suicidal attempts to drink
paint and outraged resistance to his mistreatment by the master. Throughout the
picture, the childish, artificial world stands in contrast to the very real and
adult themes of violence, sex, and greed, a contradiction familiar to Tex Avery
and Chuck Jones fans. Lancelot fears women and the sexual maturity they
represent, and of course he isn’t ready for the bundle of unconstrained life
embodied by Ossi, but her deception allows him to warm up to the idea by
degrees until the truth can be revealed. It’s an absurd revision of the
Pygmalion myth that perfectly captures the essence of screwball romance, where
the man has to be hectored by the heroine until he eventually gives in to the
inevitability of love.
Ossi and Lancelot enjoy their union in The Doll.
Ernst Lubitsch died in 1947, and his final directorial effort, That Lady in Ermine (1948), was released after his death. Ossi Oswalda, whose last screen appearance came in 1933, also died in 1947 in Prague, having fled Nazi Germany in the 1930s. For another Lubitsch/Oswalda film that’s available on physical media, look for The Oyster Princess (1919); the Kino Lorber Blu-ray also includes the 1919 Lubitsch comedy, Meyer from Berlin, starring the director himself. For even more films from Ernst Lubitsch, see Trouble in Paradise (1932), Design for Living (1933), Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1938), The Shop Around the Corner (1940), and That Uncertain Feeling (1941). For a provocative double feature, try pairing The Doll with Lars and the Real Girl (2007), or trace its roots to E.T.A. Hoffmann’s 1816 short story, “The Sandman,” and the ballet Coppélia by watching a film adaptation of Hoffmann’s most famous story, The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.
