Monsters and Matinees: All in a Dysfunctional Family with ‘Frankenstein’s Daughter’

All in a Dysfunctional Family with ‘Frankenstein’s Daughter’

Teens, cars, kissing, music, dancing and a pool party: you might be thinking it’s time to settle in with a 1950s hot-rod film.

Not so fast. Meet Frankenstein’s Daughter, a 1958 film that has all of that plus the bonus of a mysterious woman running around Los Angeles in a negligee, bathing suit and the head of a monster.

“Woman monster menaces city!” the newspaper headline screams.

An innocent teen (Sandra Knight) needs a makeover after a scientific experiment in Frankenstein’s Daughter. (Photo courtesy The Film Detective.)

We hate to tell them, but they haven’t seen the true horror – as unintended as it may be – of the title creature in Frankenstein’s Daughter, newly restored on home video by The Film Detective. (Hint: Lipstick is not going to help the poor girl.)

It’s one of four drive-in films made in 1958 by director Richard E. Cunha. (The others are She Demons, Giant from the Unknown and Missile to the Moon). These “six-day wonders” were made, as you would expect, in six days with a miniscule budget of $65,000 to $80,000. Every penny is there on the screen: the good, the bad and the truly ugly.

[Read more on Richard E. Cunha and his six-day wonders.]

Unlike the worthy family sequels to Universal’s original Frankenstein (1931) – Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and Son of Frankenstein (1939) – this film comes from another world of horror starting with a title that’s a misnomer.

There isn’t a daughter, although there are young women in peril. There is a Frankenstein but he’s a grandson and we can all agree that Grandson of Frankenstein doesn’t roll off the tongue very well (but it would at least be accurate).

Sandra Knight and John Ashley are a young couple in love in Frankenstein’s Daughter. (Photo courtesy The Film Detective)

The film plot

Frankenstein’s Daughter features another of the well-meaning scientists who proliferate 1950s B-movies. Dr. Carter Morton (played by Felix Locher) is working to stop diseases and save lives, but he keeps falling short. One small problem is that his formula causes brief disfigurement, something he knows he could fix if only he had the chemical Digenerol kept under lock and key at a nearby research laboratory.

Living with him in his lovely house are his teen niece Trudy (played by Sandra Knight, the future Mrs. Jack Nicholson) and his assistant Oliver (TV actor Donald Murphy, in an interesting performance that is part ladies’ man, part sleaze, part madman). In one of those strange tropes of the sci-fi films of the era (The Fly, Tarantula), the laboratory is off the first-floor vestibule making it easy for everyone in the house to come and go.

Trudy is dating cute Frankie Avalon look-alike Johnny (played by John Ashley, the future Mr. Deborah Walley) and they double date with dorky Dave (Harold Lloyd Jr.) and sexy Suzie (former Playmate Sally Todd). These kids are fun.

It might almost be idyllic if Oliver didn’t hit on Trudy or pick fights with the doctor as he increasingly becomes more of a hinderance than a help to the old man.

Oliver does make a few good points, but he’s unnecessarily rude and too quick to anger. Then it becomes clear he has some type of agenda and then we learn he’s using the phony last name of Frank – yes as in Frankenstein.

He’s only working with the professor in hopes of successfully completing the work of his grandfather and father while also restoring the family name to the glory he feels it deserves. (“They were geniuses!” he exclaims.)

The handsome but off-kilter Oliver (Donald Murphy) flirts with and experiments on Trudy (Sandra Knight) in Frankenstein’s Daughter. (Photo: Mary Evans/AF Archive/Cinetext Bildarchiv/Everett Collection)

He has their original notebooks and believes he needs a woman to succeed where they failed.

“The female brain is conditioned to a man’s world and therefore takes orders where the others wouldn’t,” Oliver says, in reference to the bodies used in earlier experiments.

Despite that awful chauvinistic statement, he clearly has a thing for the ladies in both the romantic and scientific departments. Living in the house with Trudy makes her an easy target for Oliver who grossly puts the moves on her. When that doesn’t work, he targets Suzie the sexpot who is a much easier mark.

Wolfe Barzell, left, is the faithful Elsu who tries to help the title character (Harry Wilson) in Frankenstein’s Daughter. (Photo courtesy The Film Detective.)

Adding to the atmosphere and the Frankenstein backstory is the pitiful gardener Elsu (Wolfe Barzell) – clearly a stand-in for Fritz/Igor – who has faithfully worked with the family from the beginning.

Frankenstein’s Daughter is easy to figure out in real time as you’ll guess the identity of the first female monster in the negligee, the fact that Oliver is up to something, and that there was something in Trudy’s punch.

It takes a while for others though, including the police, to believe that there is a monster(s). And even after those newspaper headlines proclaim the truth, the kids don’t hesitate to attend a poolside party with a live band (The Paul Cavanaugh Trio). It’s an odd scene of frivolity thrown in perhaps to allow actor Ashley, who was also a singer, to show off his vocal talents.

A female monster in a negligee roams the streets of Los Angeles in the opening scene of Frankenstein’s Daughter.

The monster(s)

There are various looks for the creatures since there are multiple experiments done on different women. For the female monster we see in the opening scene and the first part of the film, the look is simply dirty buck teeth and bushy eyebrows, nothing some toothpaste and tweezers couldn’t fix. Facial shadows will later be added to varying degrees.

Oliver (Donald Murphy) with his creation (Harry Wilson) in Frankenstein’s Daughter. Note the lipstick, used to add a feminine touch to the monster. (Photo courtesy The Film Detective)

The title creature is a different story. Frankenstein’s Daughter, as she’s named by Elsu, is clearly a man (played by Harry Wilson). It’s in a big and boxy rubber-looking suit with a patched together head and large bulbous nose.

A story behind the masculine makeup is that the artist didn’t know the monster was supposed to be a woman. To make up for the oversight, lipstick was added as a quick fix which worked about as well as you would expect.

It’s a look that confused even director Cunha who was introduced to it on the set with a quick “here’s your monster,” he said in the documentary included in the extras of the home video release.

“I nearly died. The monster wasn’t designed like that – it just looked that,” Cunha said. Without time or money to fix it, “We had to keep it.”

That documentary with Cunha features video footage the director did to answer questions that were mailed to him by author Tom Weaver around 1983. It’s a treat to learn about the film directly from Cunha.

The new DVD and Blu-ray from The Film Detective also has an audio commentary, color booklet plus a short, but fascinating career retrospective on actor John Ashley.

In John Ashley: Man from the B’s, film historian C. Courtney Joyner details how Ashley’s career started when he was a tourist with friends visiting the set of a John Wayne film and the Duke pointed him out because he looked so much like Elvis. (I still say he looks more like Frankie Avalon, an actor he co-starred with in such films as Beach Party, Muscle Beach Party and Beach Blanket Bingo.) Ashley later had a successful career as a producer especially on television with such shows as The A-Team.

 Toni Ruberto for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Toni’s Monsters and Matinees articles here.

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.

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Noir Nook: Iconic Moments in Film Noir

Noir Nook: Iconic Moments in Film Noir

As another holiday season rolls around, this month’s Noir Nook is devoted to gift-giving. If you like to visit this website, you’re obviously a classic film lover, and one of the many great things about these movies is the moments that you simply can’t forget – the moments that you find yourself waiting for when you watch your favorites over and over again – the moments that practically leave you breathless, no matter how many times you see them – the moments that you may have seen years before you first watched the film. So, in honor of the holidays, I’m giving the gift of my top three iconic movie moments from film noir. And when I’m finished, I may just go watch them again! (Watch your step as you proceed – spoilers abound!)

The film: Gilda (1946)

Rita Hayworth in Gilda (1946)
Rita Hayworth in Gilda (1946)

The plot: Small-time grifter Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) becomes the right-hand man of Ballin Mundson (George Macready), the owner of a Buenos Aires casino, but the symbiotic relationship is shattered when Ballin shows up with a brand-new wife, Gilda (Rita Hayworth). And his bride just happens to be Johnny’s ex-lover. 

The moment: Ballin doesn’t invite Johnny to his wedding to Gilda, which takes place while Ballin is on a business trip. In fact, he doesn’t even tell Johnny that he’s married until Johnny shows up at Ballin’s sprawling abode, completely unaware that anything is amiss until he notices that Ballin “looks foolish.” Even then, Johnny doesn’t suspect a thing – not until Ballin opens the door to his bedroom and Johnny hears the faint strains of a song playing on the phonograph: “Put the Blame on Mame.” The music is accompanied by a woman softly singing, and Johnny’s stunned countenance reflects his instant recognition of the owner of the voice. Ballin calls out to his wife, “Gilda, are you decent?” And we’re then taken inside of the bedroom, where Gilda explodes into view, flipping back her mane of hair, and smilingly querying, “Me?” As Johnny steps out of the shadow and into view, Gilda’s smile slowly fades and she says flatly, “Sure, I’m decent.”

The film: Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

Gene Tierney in Leave Her to Heaven (1945)
Gene Tierney in Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

The plot: Ellen Berent (Gene Tierney) meets writer Richard Harland (Cornel Wilde), who reminds her of her beloved, recently deceased father. After a whirlwind romance steered by Ellen, the two get married. But behind Ellen’s beautiful and fascinating façade lurks a psychopath who wants her new husband all to herself – to the exclusion of her family, Richard’s disabled brother, and even her own unborn child.

The moment: Ellen has been working with her young brother-in-law, Danny (Darryl Hickman), who’s trying to surprise his big brother with his ability to swim across the lake behind their home; as Danny tries to swim a little farther each day, Ellen trails behind in a rowboat. On this particular day, before Danny takes the plunge, Ellen tries to gently persuade him to join her mother and sister in Bar Harbor, Maine, instead of remaining with the newlyweds at the Back of the Moon lodge. Danny says he’d rather wait until the three of them can go together, and although Ellen stresses that it would only be for a few weeks, Danny holds firm. As Danny climbs into the water and starts his swim, Ellen dons her sunglasses, which serve to complete the expressionless, enigmatic mask of her face. Even her voice lacks inflection as she rows behind Danny, assuring him that she’ll keep him on course. But less than a minute later, Danny begins to get winded and complains of getting tired. “Take it easy,” Ellen says stiffly. “You don’t want to give up when you’ve come so far.” Danny keeps going, but before much longer, he stops – he ate too much lunch, he tells Ellen breathlessly, and he has a cramp. His voice sounds increasingly anxious, but Ellen is now motionless, no longer using the paddles, impassively staring in Danny’s direction from behind those glasses. Danny goes underneath the water for several seconds, then emerges, screaming Ellen’s name and calling for help as he struggles ineffectively to keep his head above the water. Still, Ellen doesn’t move – she simply watches as Danny goes down for the final time. Suddenly, Ellen hears her husband whistling as he walks along a nearby trail. She snatches the glasses from her face and screams her brother-in-law’s name before shedding her robe and diving into the water. But it’s all for show – and all for naught. Just as she planned.

The film: White Heat (1949)

James Cagney in White Heat (1949)
James Cagney in White Heat (1949)

The plot: A small mob of criminals carries out a series of heists, led by their psychotic boss Cody Jarrett (James Cagney), who suffers from debilitating headaches and has an abnormal attachment to his mother (Margaret Wycherly). After his beloved mother is murdered while he’s in prison, Cody stages a break along with his trusted cellmate, Hank Fallon (Edmond O’Brien), unaware that Fallon is a federal agent. And when he finds out, well, let’s just say it’s not pretty.

The moment: Cody has planned a heist at a huge gas facility and the scheme is underway when Fallon is recognized by one of Cody’s men, causing the already fragile Cody to become completely unglued. “A copper. A copper. How do ya like that, boys? A copper,” Jarrett says. “And we went for it. I went for it. Treated him like a kid brother. And I was going to split 50-50 with a copper.” As the authorities – tipped off by Fallon – converge on the plant, Cody’s men are picked off one by one, until only Cody is left. He climbs to the top of a storage tower, daring the cops gathered below to come after him. When Fallon fires a rifle, striking Cody twice, the gangster begins to laugh uncontrollably, managing to stand to his feet. He fires his gun into the huge gas tank, setting off a geyser of flames, then fires a second shot, producing more flames and causing the men on the ground to run for safety. Cody then firmly plants his feet, assumes a defiant, almost triumphant stance, and shouts skyward, “Made it, Ma! Top of the world!” A second later, the tank, and Cody, are engulfed in an enormous exploding ball of fire. And from the ground, Fallon wryly comments: “Cody Jarrett. He finally got to the top of the world. And it blew right up in his face.”

What other iconic scenes can you think of from film noir? Let me know and it may be in a future Noir Nook column!

– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.

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:

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Western RoundUp: Cattle Drive (1951)

Western RoundUp: Cattle Drive (1951)

Cattle Drive (1951) Movie Poster
Cattle Drive (1951)

Some of the earliest Westerns I watched and loved as a child were Joel McCrea films for Universal Pictures.  In fact, I credit those films with helping to develop my love of classic films in general and Westerns in particular.  

I’ve also never stopped being a big fan of McCrea, so it’s been a particular joy to pay several visits to his longtime home, McCrea Ranch, over the past decade and get to know his grandson Wyatt. Wyatt is a wonderful keeper of the legacies of the ranch and his grandparents, Joel McCrea and Frances Dee.

I wrote about McCrea’s Saddle Tramp (1950) in my very first Classic Movie Hub column, and I’ve also written about my love for Universal Westerns here on previous occasions.

Joel McCrea Headshot
Joel McCrea

Today I return to the topic of Joel McCrea’s work at Universal with a look at another early favorite, Cattle Drive (1951). Cattle Drive reteamed McCrea with his costar from Stars in My Crown (1950), Dean Stockwell, so this column is also a timely chance to pay tribute to one of cinema’s finest child actors. Dean Stockwell passed away at the age of 85 on November 7, 2021.

Stockwell was about 14 when he appeared in Cattle Drive. He plays Chester Graham Jr., who as the movie begins is being insufferably rude and unkind to all while traveling on a train owned by his wealthy father, Chester Sr. (Leon Ames).

Chester’s father means well and is willing to listen to a veteran train conductor (Griff Barnett) who tells him his son is a troublemaker, but he’s a bit hapless about dealing with his son’s ill temperament and poor character.

A series of incidents result in Chester being left behind after the train stops to take on water in the middle of the desert. Fortunately for Chester, he’s found wandering by Dan Mathews (McCrea), who’s taking time out from working on a nearby cattle drive to chase a magnificent stallion.

Dean Stockwell & Joel McCrea
Dean Stockwell & Joel McCrea

Chester is initially as sullen and unhelpful to the cowboys as he was on the train, but eventually, the patience of Dan and the chuckwagon cook, Dallas (Chill Wills), gets through to him and he begins to unbend. 

Chester, now nicknamed “Chet,” learns varied skills as he pitches in and becomes a working member of the crew before being reunited with his father in Santa Fe. In fact, Chet so comes to like cowboy camaraderie and being useful that he’s reluctant to go back to his more comfortable previous life in the East.

Like many Universal Westerns, this film is short and sweet, with a running time of just 77 minutes. That’s really all that’s needed to successfully put over a solid and entertaining story that has a somewhat unique theme for a Western. Some have likened the script by Lillie Hayward and Jack Natteford to being a Western version of Kipling’s Captains Courageous; that story had been notably filmed in 1937 with Spencer Tracy and Freddie Bartholomew.

With a couple of exceptions, McCrea focused entirely on making Westerns in the ’50s, and for me, this relatively small-scale relationship film is one of his best. McCrea’s easygoing charm is perfect for the role of the endlessly patient Dan, who not only helps Chet mature but firmly protects him from an ornery cowhand (Henry Brandon) who considers the kid bad luck.

Stockwell & McCrea Cattle Drive (1951)
Stockwell & McCrea

McCrea and Stockwell have excellent chemistry; their familiarity from making the very fine Stars in My Crown the previous year doubtless contributed to their ease together in this film. Cattle Drive would be Stockwell’s last feature film for half a decade; he returned to the screen in another Western, Gun for a Coward, in 1956.

McCrea doesn’t have a leading lady in Cattle Drive, but there’s a lovely touch when Dan shows Chet a picture of his “girl” who is waiting for him in Santa Fe. The picture is of McCrea’s real-life wife, Frances Dee.

Leon Ames’ screen credits included many notable roles as fathers, including Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), Little Women (1949), and On Moonlight Bay (1951). He’s perfectly cast as Chet’s amiable if befuddled father, and this fine actor’s presence also brings the film a bit of extra gravitas.

Building on that thought, one of the things I really appreciate about the film is the marvelous supporting cast. Chill Wills is always terrific in sympathetic, humorous roles such as this one, and having someone like Henry Brandon play the film’s villain — as villainous as anyone in the film gets, at any rate — adds to the film’s depth. Brandon was then half a decade away from playing Chief Scar in one of the greatest Westerns ever made, The Searchers (1956)

One of the wonderful things about returning to a film like Cattle Drive for the first time in a number of years is how much more the “deep cast” players mean to me when watching in a new context. For instance, when I watched and rewatched this film as a child I had no idea who Bob Steele was; having now seen him as a leading man in “B” Westerns and in numerous supporting roles in “A” films, his presence here as “Careless” delighted me. I love returning to a film with a fresh perspective and coming away appreciating it even more.

The movie was filmed by Maury Gertsman largely in the great outdoors, including Arizona and Utah; although it’s not listed at IMDb, a few of the backgrounds appeared to be in the Lone Pine area, which was confirmed by Tony Thomas’s book The Films of Joel McCrea.

McCrea & Stockwell with Highland Dale
McCrea & Stockwell with Highland Dale

Cattle Drive incorporates extensive stock footage of the horse Highland Dale from Universal’s Red Canyon (1949), which starred Ann Blyth, George Brent, and Howard Duff.  It’s fun to note that Highland Dale would later appear in the title role of a film that starred Joel McCrea’s wife Frances, Gypsy Colt (1954).

Cattle Drive was directed by Kurt Neumann, whose next film, Reunion in Reno (1951), was made with Frances Dee.  I’m particularly fond of a film Neumann directed the following year, Son of Ali Baba (1952), starring Tony Curtis and Piper Laurie.  I also liked another of Neumann’s Westerns, Bad Men of Tombstone (1949), which starred Barry Sullivan.  Earlier this year I was honored to pay my respects to Neumann at his final resting place at Home of Peace Memorial Park in East Los Angeles, California.

Cattle Drive lobby card 1951
Cattle Drive lobby card

Cattle Drive, which holds appeal for adults and children alike, would be an excellent choice for family viewing during the holiday season.  It’s available on DVD in the TCM Vault Collection.

– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns.  She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals.  Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.

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Silver Screen Standards: Bacall Beyond Bogart

Silver Screen Standards: Bacall Beyond Bogart

Lauren Bacall Headshot
Lauren Bacall was just a 19-year-old newcomer when she appeared in To Have and Have Not (1944) and instantly launched into stardom.

From the moment you see them together on screen in To Have and Have Not (1944), you know there’s something special about Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. They embody that magical idea of “chemistry” between actors; the electric thrill of the sparks flying between them is just as potent today as it was when they shot that first film, even though more than 75 years have passed. She gives him “the look” that would become her trademark and nickname, she asks him if he knows how to whistle, and the moment becomes an iconic piece of Hollywood history. The story of Lauren Bacall’s arrival as a star and the great love of Humphrey Bogart’s life is truly fascinating, but there was a lot more to Bacall than just making Bogart whistle. She was married to Bogart for a little over a decade; she lived nearly sixty more years after his death and never really stopped working. In order to appreciate Lauren Bacall more thoroughly, we have to see her celebrated romance as one (albeit very important) part of a long, full life.

“Lauren Bacall” was a cinematic fantasy dreamed up by Howard Hawks and inspired by his wife at the time, whose nickname was Slim, but Betty Joan Perske – later Betty Bacall after her parent’s divorce – was born in New York City on September 16, 1924. Hawks’ wife saw the teenaged model on a magazine cover and brought her to Hawks’ attention, which led to the 19-year-old beauty getting a screen test that turned into a starring role in To Have and Have Not.

Marilyn Monroe, Lauren Bacall and Betty Grable in How to Marry a Millionaire (1953)
Starring in How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) with Marilyn Monroe and Betty Grable gave Bacall an early hit that did not involve Bogart.

Like Athena springing fully formed from the head of Zeus, Bacall emerged into stardom in that first role. There was no apprenticeship of small parts growing into larger ones, no starlet training ground, no uncredited background work that offered an early peek. That sudden stardom would have been a lot to handle for any young actress, but Bacall forged ahead, into more leading roles and marriage to a man almost 25 years her senior with three divorces behind him. They had two children together, Stephen and Leslie, who were still quite young when Bogart died of cancer in 1957. A second marriage to Jason Robards produced a third child, Sam, but ended in divorce in 1969. Bacall continued to work through all of these life changes, either in films and television or on the stage; she earned her only Oscar nomination, for her supporting role in The Mirror Has Two Faces (1996) quite late in her career and contributed her distinctive voice to several animated films, including the English version of Howl’s Moving Castle (2004). By the time of her death on August 12, 2014, she had appeared in more than 40 films, only four of which co-starred Humphrey Bogart.

Those four films are all classics that deserve our love and attention, with Bogart and Bacall creating intense chemistry in each. After To Have and Have Not they burned up the screen with The Big Sleep (1946), Dark Passage (1947), and Key Largo (1948), and each film takes full advantage of their celebrated off-screen romance. They are evenly matched as romantic leads, both strong-willed, world-weary, and unimpressed by the tough guys and macho posers who populate their worlds. The Big Sleep is probably the best of the set, and certainly the most celebrated, thanks to its perfect noir style and the popularity of Philip Marlowe as a big screen detective (not to mention Martha Vickers’ wild turn as Bacall’s troubled little sister).

Although Bogart and Bacall would not appear in films together after these four, they did work together in radio and television productions, including a live 1955 television version of Bogart’s stage and screen success, The Petrified Forest (1936), in which Bogart reprised his role as Duke Mantee and Bacall played Gabrielle, with Henry Fonda taking the role of Alan Squier.

Lauren Bacall in The Shootist (1976)
Bacall was in her 50s when she costarred in John Wayne’s final film, The Shootist (1976), in which she plays the widowed mother of Ron Howard’s aspiring gunfighter.

By herself, however, Bacall continued to make pictures, with leading men like Kirk Douglas, Gary Cooper, Gregory Peck, and John Wayne. With Bogart, she had become associated with film noir, but on her own, she made comedies, Westerns, dramas, and mysteries, as well. The most popular of her early solo films is undoubtedly How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), a sharp romantic comedy in which Bacall plays the most pragmatic of three young dress models looking to land rich husbands. Other films in the 1950s included Young Man with a Horn (1950), Woman’s World (1954), The Cobweb (1955), Designing Woman (1957), and Northwest Frontier (1959). She made fewer films after Bogart’s death in 1957, partly because she enjoyed working in stage productions and partly because she had two young children with Bogart and then a third in 1961 with Robards. Her career, however, was far from over. After Sex and the Single Girl (1964) and Harper (1966) in the 1960s, Bacall made memorable appearances in two Agatha Christie film adaptations, Murder on the Orient Express (1974) and Appointment with Death (1988), and also took a leading role in John Wayne’s swan song, The Shootist (1976). She was busier with films in the 1990s than she had been for decades, taking roles in Misery (1990), Ready to Wear (1994), The Mirror Has Two Faces (1996), and My Fellow Americans (1996). The early 2000s saw her in Lars von Trier’s Dogville (2003) and Manderlay (2005), while her voice work as the Witch of the Waste in the English version of Hayao Miyazaki’s beloved animated feature, Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), introduced her trademark husky voice to a new generation.

Lauren Bacall in The Forger (2012)
Bacall made her final big-screen appearance in the 2012 drama, The Forger, when she was in her late 80s.

I love Bacall and Bogart together, but I also love the breadth and depth of Bacall’s career after Bogart. She’s great even in pictures that probably didn’t deserve her, and she ages in films with the same strength and frankness that her characters embody. As beautiful as she is at 19 in To Have and Have Not, she’s just as remarkable at 52 in The Shootist and at 72 in The Mirror Has Two Faces. There’s so much more to Lauren Bacall than her famous romance, more than we can even begin to discuss here. She was nominated for Emmy and Grammy Awards as well as her Oscar, and she won two Tony Awards for her Broadway roles. She wrote three memoirs, the first released in 1978 and the third in 2005, and if you want to learn more about her life, her work, and her opinions about both, those are the place to begin. The first one, tellingly, is titled By Myself, while the third is By Myself and Then Some, which serves as an apt summary of this great leading lady’s long life and career.

— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Jennifer is a former college professor with a PhD in English Literature and a lifelong obsession with film. She writes about classic movies at her blog, Virtual Virago, and presents classic film programs for lifetime learning groups and retirement communities. She’s the author of Beyond Casablanca: 100 Classic Movies Worth Watching and its sequel, Beyond Casablanca II: 101 Classic Movies Worth Watching, and she is also the co-editor of two books about the works of Jim Henson.

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Classic Movie Travels: Alice Terry

Classic Movie Travels: Alice Terry

Alice Terry Headshot
Alice Terry

A silent film actress and director, Alice Terry’s made her mark as Marguerite in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921) alongside Rudolph Valentino. Sporting a trademark blonde wig from that point on, Terry enjoyed additional starring roles, though her film career would end by 1933.

Alice Frances Taaffe was born on July 29, 1900, in Vincennes, Indiana. Her parents, Matthew and Ella, worked as barbers, and she had two older siblings: Edna and Robert. By age 15, she was working as an extra in films, making her debut in Not My Sister (1916), and also worked in cutting rooms for Famous Players-Lasky.

Alice Terry Young
A young Alice

1921 would be a pivotal role for the actress. She would marry director Rex Ingram in this year, in addition to being praised for her role in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The couple married during the production of The Prisoner of Zenda (1922), which Ingram was directing. Terry appeared in the film as Princess Flavia. The couple married over a weekend in Pasadena, returning for work the following Monday, and left for their San Francisco honeymoon when filming was complete.

Terry’s appearance in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse served her well and led to additional starring roles in films like The Prisoner of Zenda (1922) and Scaramouche (1923). While Ingram cast her in leading roles, they proved to be unmemorable.

Rudolph Valentino and Alice Terry in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921)
Rudolph Valentino and Alice Terry in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921)

Terry and Ingram relocated to the French Riviera, forming a small studio in Nice and shooting various films on location in other countries. During a visit to Tunisia to film The Arab (1924), the couple adopted a boy who claimed to be orphaned; however, the boy misrepresented his age and was sent to Morocco to finish school. In reality, he never returned to school and his whereabouts are unknown.

Apart from her husband, Terry proved to be a strong actress in Any Woman (1925) and Sackcloth and Scarlet (1925) for Paramount Pictures. She also enjoyed working behind the scenes, gaining work as a director when Ingram would be upset with his cast and production, in addition to film editing. Ingram’s final film and sole sound feature Baroud (1933) credited Terry as a co-director.

Alice Terry and Rex Ingram
Alice Terry and Rex Ingram

Shortly after the advent of sound in films, Ingram and Terry retired, with Terry exploring painting as a hobby. Ingram passed away in 1950.

In the years that followed, Terry hosted parties and enjoyed social events on the town, dressing to the nines. She remained highly active and visible in society until her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. She passed away on December 22, 1987, in Burbank and is buried at Valhalla Memorial Park Cemetery in Los Angeles, California. She was 87 years old.

Today, Terry is remembered on the Hollywood Walk of Fame with a star at 6628 Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles.

Alice Terry's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame
Terry’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame

Her childhood home at 508 Shelby St. in Vincennes, Indiana, burned down on June 6, 2021. This is what the home looked like:

Alice Terry's home at 508 Street, Vincennes, Indiana
Terry’s home at 508 Street, Vincennes, Indiana

By 1910, she lived at 707 ½ Maud Olive Greenberg in Los Angeles. Her father had passed away in 1907, and her mother was working as a barber. Seven years later, she lived at 1226 Cabrillo Canal in Santa Monica, California. In 1920, she lived at 632 Bixel St. in Los Angeles with her mother, as well as her sister, Edna, and brother-in-law, Gerald. She also resided at 501 Windsor in Los Angeles in 1940 and at 11566 Kelsey St. in Studio City, California. None of these homes remain.

Though there are very few tributes to Terry, her filmography can continue to be enjoyed.

–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

Annette Bochenek pens our monthly Classic Movie Travels column. You can read all of Annette’s Classic Movie Travel articles here.

Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.

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Silents are Golden: A Closer Look at – Greed (1924)

Silents are Golden: A Closer Look at – Greed (1924)

With its deeply, grittily realistic story and grand, almost operatic themes, Frank Norris’s 1899 novel McTeague is one of the great American books of the late 19th century. While many critics disliked it at the time for being overly “vulgar,” “depressing” or even “hideous,” its powerful story would leave an impact on generations of readers.

A famous symbolic shot from Greed.

One such reader was film director Erich von Stroheim. Born in Austria to a lower-class family, he came to America insisting he was descended from Prussian noblemen and stuck to the story like glue. He would specialize in playing villainous “Huns” onscreen during the propaganda-soaked era of World War I and by the late 1910s had started directing. Obsessed with military life and uniforms, he was said to sometimes wear a Prussian uniform even offscreen.

An intense von Stroheim on set.

Von Stroheim’s films took sophisticated looks at the themes of sex and seduction – often with himself in the role of a villainous seducer – and he was always happy to push the envelope. He also pushed the envelope on his studio budgets, insisting on lavish replicas of Monte Carlo or imperial Vienna. But when he decided to adapt McTeague to the big screen, it was the idea of bringing its macabre story to life with humble, real-world locations that excited him.

ZaSu Pitts, Gibson Gowland, and Hughie Mack.

The story concerns the dentist McTeague, a large, gentle, slow-witted man who runs his little business out of his apartment in San Francisco. His friend Marcus, a confident blowhard type, is engaged to Trina Sieppe, a sensitive, fluttery sort of young woman. McTeague finds himself powerfully attracted to Trina, and Marcus decides to “sacrificially” break things off with her. In time McTeague and Trina marry, and by a strange stroke of good luck, Trina discovers she won $5,000 in a lottery. This is unwelcome news to Marcus, who becomes very jealous.

Despite their sudden fortune, the McTeagues live modestly and Trina becomes more and more obsessed with hoarding her winnings. She becomes a miser and a frustrated McTeague turns to drink. Marcus has his revenge by informing the authorities that McTeague doesn’t have a dentistry license. And everything keeps going downhill from there.

An increasingly tragic Trina.

Naturally, this grim plot fascinated von Stroheim. His casting decisions were arguably perfect: the husky Gibson Gowland, who had played a mountain guide in von Stroheim’s hit Blind Husbands (1919), was chosen to play McTeague. Danish actor Jean Hersholt would play the greasy Marcus Schouler. Fragile-looking ZaSu Pitts, who was known for comedy roles, would be an ideal Trina. And various other comedians were chosen for other roles, such as Dale Fuller, Chester Conklin, and Frank Hayes. Von Stroheim had reasoned – correctly – that their comic skills would help them excel at more dramatic roles.

Gowland as McTeague.

He wanted to set his film in the same Polk Street neighborhood Norris described but found it had been largely destroyed by the 1906 earthquake. But he searched diligently until he found the perfect building with a large bay window to serve as McTeague’s dental parlor, situated at the corner of Hayes and Laguna. The waterfront and Shell Mount park, the setting of some memorable scenes, were happily unchanged and other buildings around Hayes and Laguna were perfect for the stores, the saloon, and the junk shop described in the novel.

That corner building survives today.

Von Stroheim threw himself, heart and soul, into filming Greed (he thought the title a better fit for the story’s operatic themes) and was obsessed with capturing the novel as perfectly and realistically as possible. He could even recite passages from McTeague from memory. His enthusiasm swept up his cast and also bystanders who came to watch the filming – writer Eleanor Ross wrote an essay describing what it was like in the Hayes and Laguna building:

“It was odd how these people spoke of all the characters in McTeague as if they really lived and breathed. In fact, owing perhaps to von Stroheim’s realism, they do live and breathe. ‘Knock again,’ someone was shouting. ‘Again! Again!’ The door opens; Marcus appears; they talk for a while; the door closes. Yet it must be shot again. ‘Von Stroheim shot a scene twenty-six times once,’ I was informed, ‘because it didn’t suit him.’”

Demonstrating a scene to Gowland.

Sometimes the realism was extended even beyond the sets. In a scene where Trina discovers a character has been murdered, Pitts went into the street and hysterically informed innocent passers-by what had “happened”  while the cameras secretly rolled, causing several people to call the police for real. In a scene where McTeague and Marcus wrestle, von Stroheim encouraged Hershoult to bite Gowland’s ear so hard that it bled, much to Gowland’s anger. Gowland did manage to successfully object to having a knife thrown at him in a key scene, even though the thrower was a skilled professional.

But most realistic of all were the Death Valley scenes, taken in – yes – Death Valley itself when the temp was soaring above 120 degrees. The grueling shoot, where members of the crew often suffered heat exhaustion and heatstroke, was so miserable that von Stroheim reportedly kept a pistol on him 24/7. Gowland and Hersholt had to actually crawl and fight on the blinding salt flats, clearly sweat-soaked and miserable onscreen. Von Stroheim reportedly screamed at them to “Fight! Fight! Try to hate each other as you hate me!” When shooting finally ended, it took Hersholt several weeks to recover his health.

Gowland and Hersholt in Death Valley.

The result of the memorable production was an astonishing 42 reels of film, which was about nine hours long. It was apparently shown once at MGM studios to friends and reporters on January 12, 1924. Critic Idwal Jones described von Stroheim as “sitting motionless in a straight chair, cane in hand and staring straight ahead as if boring through the screen… Every episode is developed to the full, every comma of the book put in, as it were.” Von Stroheim then cut this mega picture down to about 4 1/2 hours. Apparently, von Stroheim originally hoped would be shown over two consecutive evenings or one lengthy sitting, but studio executives disagreed and his precious film was chopped shorter and shorter until it ran about 10 reels.

Lobby card for the film.

While Greed did well, its reputation grew throughout the following decades and today it’s considered one of the finest silents ever made. Fans frequently mourn the loss of the 42-reel version, which was almost certainly destroyed. Happily today the 4 ½ version has been reconstructed with surviving stills added into the film, allowing us to get at least a strong idea of von Stroheim’s obsessive, manically-authentic vision.

Greed (1924)

–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.

Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.

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Monsters and Matinees: The A-Men of a B-movie Trilogy

The A-Men of a B-movie Trilogy

“When was the last atomic test in Vegas?”

That question is never a good sign for people in a horror/sci-fi film from the 1950s, but it is for the viewers who know that this is what they came to watch.

The atom bomb, radiation etc. have been the catalyst for favorite films of the era as they created the oversized ants of Them!, a Giant Gila Monster and the human monstrosities in The Day the World Ended and War of the Colossal Beast.

The Magnetic Monster (1953) is another film where the horror created by radiation grows to epic proportions. In a twist, we never see the title character, only its Earth-annihilating power and destruction which is enough.

Who can save the world from such a horror? The A-Men can.

The A-Men were the investigators in a film trilogy from producer Ivan Tors about the Office of Scientific Investigation. The Magnetic Monster was the first in ’53, followed in 1954 by Riders to the Stars and Gog, perhaps the most familiar title in the trio.

The movies were made under the A-Men Productions banner, a company Tors created with actor Richard Carlson who starred in the first two films and directed Riders to the Stars.

In other words, the real A-Men Productions company made three sci-fi movies where fictional A-Men saved the world. That’s kind of genius.

Actor Richard Carlson is one of the A-Men from the Office of Scientific Investigation who is trying to stop The Magnetic Monster.

In The Magnetic Monster, Richard Carlson and the OSI explore strange radiation and magnetic anomalies. I was excited to see Carlson was also in the second film, Riders to the Stars. But wait – he’s not reprising his role as the happily married father-to-be and scientist Jeff Stewart from The Magnetic Monster. He’s Jerry Lockwood, a college professor blindly in love with a model who clearly has no interest in him other than using his car.

And though classic movie star Herbert Marshall is the lead scientist in Riders and Gog – you guessed it – they aren’t the same character either. It’s puzzling that they each returned for a second film but played different roles, especially since the films were released within a year of each other. Then again, I will watch anything with Carlson and Marshall.

Herbert Marshall, left, Constance Dowling and Richard Egan have deadly mysteries to solve in Gog, the third film with the A-Men of the Office of Scientific Investigation.

Though the OSI films are not a trilogy in the traditional sense with a direct continuing storyline and returning characters, they have the common theme of space exploration. Here’s a quick look.

The Magnetic Monster

Dr. Jeffrey Stewart (played by Richard Carlson) is one of the A-Men – detectives with degrees in science – who work at the Office of Scientific Investigation. “A stands for atom. Atom stands for power – power man has unleashed but has not yet learned to control,” he tells us in his somber voiceover that opens the film to talk of new dangers threatening Earth as we look toward the sky.

He describes the A-Men as sounding like “the final word of a prayer” as in Earth’s last line of defense and that’s what they are about to be.  His narration continues through the film, noting dates and times to show how quickly the world can be on the verge of destruction. Here, it will take only 5 days.

It’s July 18, just an ordinary day. Jeff arrives at the OSI where he’s asked about recent atomic testing by co-worker Dr. Dan Forbes (King Donovan) who has found unexplained anomalies. But they’re quickly called across town where things have gone haywire in an appliance store. Could they be related?

All the clocks at the store are stuck at 12:12 even though it was 9 a.m. when the store opened. Objects are flying across the room, dryer doors are opening and closing and in a slightly comical moment, an innocent-looking push lawnmower almost cuts down the employees.

“Someone is wrecking my store with magnetic power!” the high-strung proprietor shouts.

Richard Carlson and other scientists work to stop the unseen Magnetic Monster.

The A-Men discover there is an unusually strong magnetic pull in the building that leads them to a body and a high-source of radiation.

In record time, they track it to Dr. Denker who has boarded a flight with a briefcase but is now quite ill. How do we know? Our stewardess tells us. “We’ve got a sick man on board – his gums are bleeding!” she cries out.

The kindly Dr. Denker spills as much info as he can before the radiation poison takes over his body. And this is where our film goes beyond the usual sci-fi mumbo-jumbo to use facts from the expert advice of scientists, whose names were included in the credits.

Denker was experimenting on an artificial radioactive isotope called serranium that he blasted with alpha particles for 200 hours, leading it to become unstable with an insatiable appetite for energy. It implodes every 11 hours with a need to be fed and will double its size. At some point, it will destroy the planet.

 “It’s monstrous,” Denker proclaims. “It’s hungry, it has to be fed constantly or it will reach out its magnetic arm to anything with its reach and kill it.”

This screenshot shows the massive Deltatron set in The Magnetic Monster. However, the Deltatron footage is from the 1934 film Gold. The two films are blended with rear projection making two actors in the center appear to be in front of the Deltatron.

One possible way to stop it could be to overfeed it with electricity until it bursts and is fissioned into two stable elements. That will take 900 million volts of energy but the closest they can get is the 600 million volts from the world’s most powerful Deltatron, located in a top-secret underwater facility in Nova Scotia.

Of course, 600 volts isn’t enough. Of course, Jeff will push it past its limit. And yes, the overprotective inventor of the Deltatron will scream lines like “This is preposterous. … This is impossible. … She’ll break up!”

The Magnetic Monster is filled with these wonderfully fun and melodramatic lines written by Tors and director Curt Siodmak. Other favorites: “We had sapped the strength of the city to keep a monster alive.” And “It’s growing – Jeff that’s a living thing!”

It all leads to the exciting climax where man fights man and an unseen creature at the Deltatron, an impressive “set” that will remind you of Metropolis for good reason. The Deltatron footage is from the 1934 German film Gold with the set designed by Otto Hunte, who also did Metropolis. The two films meld rather seamlessly thanks to some rear projection and extra set building.

Riders to the Sky

This second film in the trilogy also starts with narration, this time by Herbert Marshall as Dr. Donald L. Stanton who explains how man has met every challenge except the voyage to outer space.

What’s keeping us down? The fact that rockets – and therefore humans – are destroyed in space. The thought that meteors can fly through space without being destroyed (until they get into the Earth’s atmosphere) sparks a crazy idea that will lead to a lot of cloak and dagger activity to find men for a mission so dangerous they all have to be single.

An “electronic computer” sifts through 150 million names, boiling them down to 12 men who only know the government needs their help. They can’t even discuss their area of expertise when they first meet to undergo physical and mental testing by scientists including the smart and lovely Jane Flynn (played by Martha Hyer).

“I hope you’ll forgive us for testing your patience,” she tells them, and she means it. The men have been together for two hours in a room to test their patience. When one of them cracks under the pressure – “I’m a scientist, not a guinea pig,” he yells – he’s out.

Before he leaves, he calls it a suicide mission and he’s not far off. The “winners” of this contest will travel to space, try to grab a meteor and put it in a safety vessel inside their ship to keep its outer shell intact for testing on Earth.

This diagram in Riders to the Stars shows the “meteor scoop” that will be used for exactly what its name says it is.

How do you grab a meteor, you ask? With a meteor scoop. And yes, it is a silly invention even for a B-movie.

Finally, three men make the cut: Jerry, Dr. Stanton’s son Richard (William Lundigan) and poor Walter Gordon (Robert Karnes) who seems to be around just to have a third expendable guy.

Meanwhile Jane and Richard have bonded over the stars and each other if only to answer the question: Why is there an overwrought love song about the stars playing over the film’s opening credits?

The climax here is the trio of men in space, each in their own rocket, trying to scoop up a piece of a meteor. If you’ve made it this far in the film, just go with it.

Gog

Herbert Marshall returns, this time as Dr. Van Ness, who calls OSI after his top-secret underground facility in the New Mexico desert is sabotaged and people are dying. Two scientists testing the idea of freezing people (using monkeys, of course) to survive space travel, are frozen to death.

OSI sends David Sheppard (played by Richard Egan) to investigate, joining Joanna Merritt (Constance Dowling) who is there working undercover. The two must hide their work – and personal – relationship.

 To lend an authenticity to the film, everyone wears nifty jumpsuits or lab coats with color-coded armbands that allow them access to different floors.

Though they quickly track the sabotage to the N.O.V.A.C. (Nuclear Operative Variable Automatic Computer) which controls everything in the facility, they don’t know who is doing it or how. What role, if any, does the creator of N.O.V.A.C. play, the arrogant Dr. Zeitman (John Wengraf) who also has made the robots Gog and Magog. The robots are certainly clumsy by today’s standards and look harmless, but they are “always frightening” to Joanna and I’m sure to audiences at the time.

Gog, left, and Magog from the sci-fi thriller Gog.

As they frantically work to figure out this deadly mystery, bodies continue to pile up in unusual and, dare I say, clever ways such as death by high-frequency sound.

With help from Dr. Van Ness, the A-Men (and an A-Woman this time) solve their case again.

After Tors finished this final film in the trilogy, he created the sci-fi anthology syndicated series Science Fiction Theatre which aired 78 episodes from 1955 to ’57. A hoped-for A-Men TV show never came to fruition leaving Gog as their final investigation.

Trivia

Ivan Tors later made such family-friendly animal films as Flipper, Clarence the Cross-Eyed Lion and the television shows Sea Hunt and The Aquanaut.

Constance Dowling’s final film performance was in Riders to the Stars. She was married to Ivan Tors from 1955 until 1969 when she died at age 49 from a heart attack.

Richard Carlson is known for his appearances in horror and sci-fi B-movies. The Magnetic Monster was his first in the genre.

…..

 Toni Ruberto for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Toni’s Monsters and Matinees articles here.

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.

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Noir Nook: 75th Anniversary Noir

Noir Nook: 75th Anniversary Noir

There are so many noirs out there – some are good, some are not so good. Some are great.

And some are legendary.

This month, the Noir Nook is celebrating the 75th anniversary of the release of five legendary films from the classic noir era. A generation has passed since these features were first seen by those people out there in the dark, but they are iconic, unforgettable, and timeless – the kind of movies that you can see again and again, and never get enough.

The Big Sleep (1946)

Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep (1946)
Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep (1946)

I admit it – half the time, I don’t know what’s going on in this film. But I don’t care. It may have more twists than a Chubby Checker video, but it’s Bogie and Bacall! In a nutshell, the plot centers on private dick Philip Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart), who’s hired by an elderly invalid, General Sternwood, to resolve gambling debts racked up by his reckless younger daughter, Carmen (Martha Vickers). This seemingly uncomplicated assignment morphs into something far more unwieldy, involving a cast of characters that include Sternwood’s smart and sexy older daughter, Vivian (Lauren Bacall); local racketeer Eddie Mars (John Ridgely); luckless grifter Harry Jones (Elisha Cook, Jr.); and Sean Regan, an Irishman hired by Sternwood to “do his drinking for him,” who flees before the start of the film and never makes a reappearance.

Trivia tidbit: This was the final film for Charles Waldron, who played General Sternwood. He died before the premiere of the film.


Gilda (1946)

Rita Hayworth in Gilda (1946)
Rita Hayworth in Gilda (1946)

Gilda is another film with plot points that escape me – but, again, who cares? In the title role of the tantalizing temptress, Rita Hayworth is simply mesmerizing. She’s in nearly every scene, and when she isn’t, you’re eagerly awaiting her return. The film is set in Argentina and opens with an introduction to the two male characters who, along with Gilda, form a dangerous triangle of passion, deceit, and murder. We meet small-time gambler Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) on the streets of Buenos Aires. When a group of locals realize that he’s cheated them out of their cash, Johnny is rescued from a certain beatdown by casino owner Ballin Mundson (George Macready), and before you can say “Bob’s your uncle,” Johnny has talked himself into a job with Mundson, eventually working his way up to the position of Right-Hand Man.

Trivia tidbit: The black dress that Hayworth wore in her famous “Put the Blame on Mame” number was designed by Jean Louis. He was reportedly inspired by the controversial 1884 painting by John Singer Sargent, entitled “Portrait of Madame X.”


The Killers (1946)

Virginia Christine, Burt Lancaster, and Ava Gardner in The Killers (1946)
Virginia Christine, Burt Lancaster, and Ava Gardner in The Killers (1946)

This film opens with one of my favorite scenes in all of noir. No matter how many times I see it, it always leaves me breathless. Two menacing dudes – played to perfection by William Conrad and Charles McGraw – show up in a small town looking for one Pete Lund, better known as the Swede (Burt Lancaster). The men make no bones about their motive: they plan to kill The Swede and, unfortunately for him, he’s not hard to find. After the killing, it’s discovered that the Swede left behind a life insurance policy, and investigator Jim Reardon (Edmond O’Brien) is assigned to find and pay off the beneficiary, a hotel maid who once saved the Swede from committing suicide. After talking to the maid, Reardon continues his investigation, tracking down the Swede’s friends and associates – including a treacherous femme named Kitty (Ava Gardner) – in order to unearth the story behind his murder.

Trivia tidbit: Virginia Christine, who played the Swede’s girlfriend before he met and was mesmerized by Kitty, gained fame years later as Mrs. Olson, the TV spokesperson for Folgers Coffee.


The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

Lana Turner and John Garfield in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)
Lana Turner and John Garfield in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

One of the first noirs I ever saw, The Postman Always Rings Twice is among my favorites from the era. The story is straightforward: a drifter has an affair with the wife of a roadside diner owner and the two plot and carries out the murder of her husband. It’s a simple description that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the shadowy delights this movie has to offer. There’s gorgeous Lana Turner as the duplicitous wife, Cora Smith; John Garfield as Frank Chambers, the drifter who allows his passion to be converted into murder; and Cecil Kellaway as Cora’s hapless hubby. And to spice things up even further, we have Leon Ames as the district attorney who’s not fooled by the couple’s innocent act, Hume Cronyn as the wily defense attorney, and Audrey Totter in a small but pivotal role as Madge, a lunch counter waitress who catches Frank’s eye. From Lana Turner’s nearly all-white wardrobe to the steamy chemistry between the murderous couple, to the film’s unexpected conclusion, there is just so much about this movie to love.

Trivia tidbit: As in the James M. Cain novel on which the film is based, Madge’s initial occupation in the movie was a lion tamer. (Seriously.) A scene was actually filmed where she introduces Frank to her lions, but the idea was later scrapped and she became a waitress instead.


The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

Van Helfin, Barbara Stanwyck, and Kirk Douglas in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)
Van Helfin, Barbara Stanwyck, and Kirk Douglas in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

This movie stars two of my favorite noir femmes: Barbara Stanwyck and Lizabeth Scott, making it an automatic winner in my eyes. Toss in the uber-talented Van Heflin and Kirk Douglas, and you’ve got the makings of a cinematic gem. As this feature begins, we’re introduced to three of the principal characters as children: Martha, who is being raised by her wealthy, much-hated aunt, and her two friends, adventurous and exciting Sam, and mousy Walter, the son of her aunt’s sycophantic advisor. During a confrontation on a dark and stormy night (really!), Martha strikes and kills her aunt, blaming the murder on a mysterious fleeing intruder. As an adult, we learn, Martha (Stanwyck) has become the powerful proprietor of a mill empire and Walter (Douglas) is her district attorney husband. We also learn that years before, when a former employee of the family was arrested for a hold-up, Martha and Walter conspired to accuse the man of her aunt’s murder and secure his conviction and execution. Meanwhile, Sam (Heflin), now an itinerant gambler, returns to town – not realizing that Martha and Walter have incorrectly assumed that he knows the truth about her aunt’s death – and a curious quartet is formed when Sam befriends a local down-on-her-luck girl, Toni Marachek (Scott).

Trivia tidbit: This film marked Kirk Douglas’s big-screen debut.

Treat yourself to a celebration of these legendary films that were released 75 years ago – watch one or watch them all! You’ll be glad you did.

– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.

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:

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Silver Screen Standards: Vincent Price

Silver Screen Standards: Vincent Price

Vincent Price
Vincent Price, “The Merchant of Menace”

During the Halloween season we naturally think of Vincent Price, that undisputed icon of horror whose many roles in the genre put him in the exalted company of Lon Chaney, Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, and Christopher Lee. Price became so associated with horror that he earned nicknames like “The Merchant of Menace,” but the actor with the distinctively plummy voice was truly a man for all seasons, with a long career that encompassed many different genres. Like most Gen Xers I first encountered Price in the late 1970s and early 80s, when he was making kid-friendly fare like Vincent (1982), The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo (1985), and The Great Mouse Detective (1986) as well as Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” hit (1983) and Edward Scissorhands (1990). Once I started seeking out classic movies, I realized what an amazing and diverse career Price actually had and how we don’t really appreciate him fully unless we look at his roles outside of horror as well as his performances in the creepy classics we most remember him for today.

Vincent Leonard Price Jr. was born in St. Louis, Missouri, in 1911, where his father was the president of a candy company. His wealthy upbringing gave him access to quality education and the opportunity to travel; he earned degrees in the humanities at Yale and then moved on to study art and history in London at the Courtauld Institute. Price made his stage debut in the UK in the 1930s but soon moved into film with his first screen appearance in Service de Luxe (1938), a romantic comedy in which he took the lead role opposite Constance Bennett.

Service de Luxe (1938) Vincent Price and Constance Bennett
Vincent Price made his film debut in the unlikeliest of places, as the leading man to Constance Bennett in a romantic comedy called Service de Luxe (1938).

After that he worked regularly, amassing an astonishing list of over 200 credited roles before his death in 1993, with at least one for almost every year. Along the way, he also became known as an art collector and chef and lectured about both of those passions as well as literary topics. Despite his cultured interests and Ivy League background, Price never seemed to take himself or his work too seriously; he played villains with relish and gleefully hammed it up in horror comedies and special appearances like his guest-star turn on The Muppet Show in 1977. Although he was never even nominated for an Academy Award, his fans were legion and his legacy assured when he died of lung cancer at the age of 82.

The Baron of Arizona (1950) Vincent Price as James Reavis
As odd as a Vincent Price Western might seem, Price is perfectly cast in The Baron of Arizona (1950) as James Reavis, the daring fraudster who tried to steal a state.

It’s strange to think that an actor so known for horror got his first film role in a romantic comedy, but Price always had a talent for the comedic, whether that comedy was light or pitch black. It would serve him well in horror comedies like The Raven (1963), The Comedy of Terrors (1963), The Monster Club (1981), and House of the Long Shadows (1983), among others. Price also seems an unlikely choice for a Western, but there he is in the lead role in Samuel Fuller’s The Baron of Arizona (1950), a biopic about a real-life swindler who tried to claim ownership of the entire state of Arizona in the late 19th century. You can also find him in Curtain Call at Cactus Creek (1950), in which he plays a hammy actor, a type he would most memorably return to in Theater of Blood (1973). Even in his later years’ Price still turned up in surprising places, most notably in the gentle, intimate drama The Whales of August (1987), in which he joins other icons like Lillian Gish, Bette Davis, and Ann Sothern.

The Three Musketeers (1948) Vincent Price and Lana Turner
In the 1948 adaptation of The Three Musketeers, Price plays the villainous Cardinal Richelieu, seen here scheming with Milady de Winter (Lana Turner).   

Price worked more often in genres that had certain elements in common with his horror pictures, particularly historical dramas where his talents as a heavy came in handy. After his romantic comedy debut, Price made a number of period dramas and demonstrated a high degree of comfort in tights, Elizabethan ruffs, and other antique costumes that he would don many times in his horror roles. His second film was the star-studded spectacle, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), starring Bette Davis and Errol Flynn, in which Price plays Sir Walter Raleigh. From there he went to roles in Tower of London (1939), Brigham Young (1940), Hudson’s Bay (1940), The Song of Bernadette (1943), and The Ten Commandments (1956). He was always a solid casting choice for a dissipated nobleman, a corrupt priest, or an ambitious schemer of any stripe. His curling sneers and dripping sarcasm made him an actor audiences loved to hate in a juicy villain role. In the Gothic period thriller, Dragonwyck (1946), Price gives a delicious but perfectly serious performance as the Byronic husband of Gene Tierney’s naïve heroine, and in The Three Musketeers (1948) he tackles the role of the main villain, Cardinal Richelieu. Even if he had never become a horror icon his work in these films would have ensured him a place in Hollywood history.

Laura (1944) Gene Tierney and Vincent Price
A young and rather dashing Vincent Price appears with Gene Tierney’s title character in the noir classic, Laura (1944).

Classic noir is another genre where Vincent Price’s screen persona works well, and his years at Fox saw him in a pair of notable noir pictures starring Gene Tierney, the justly beloved Laura (1944), and Leave Her to Heaven (1945). The less successful Shock (1946) merged themes of noir and horror with Price as a murderous psychiatrist who runs a private sanitarium. In His Kind of Woman (1951) Price got another memorable noir role as – what else? – a ham actor who befriends Robert Mitchum’s protagonist. Unfortunately, noir roles dried up fairly quickly, and Price spent much of the 1950s bouncing around in television roles and smaller film parts while House of Wax (1953) and The Fly (1958) prepared the way for the great horror performances that were on the horizon.

House of Usher (1960) Vincent Price
Films like House of Usher (1960) made Vincent Price one of Hollywood’s greatest horror stars.

Most classic movie fans know and love Vincent Price as a horror star, as well they should. It wouldn’t be Halloween without movies like House on Haunted Hill (1959), The Tingler (1959), House of Usher (1960), Tales of Terror (1962), and The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971). Still, we shouldn’t forget about Price once November rolls around and the jack-o-lanterns get traded in for pumpkin pies. Whatever the season, from The Eve of St. Mark (1944) in April to The Whales of August (1987), there’s a Vincent Price picture to match it.

— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Jennifer is a former college professor with a PhD in English Literature and a lifelong obsession with film. She writes about classic movies at her blog, Virtual Virago, and presents classic film programs for lifetime learning groups and retirement communities. She’s the author of Beyond Casablanca: 100 Classic Movies Worth Watching and its sequel, Beyond Casablanca II: 101 Classic Movies Worth Watching, and she is also the co-editor of two books about the works of Jim Henson.

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Western RoundUp: Lone Pine Film Locations

Western RoundUp: Lone Pine Film Locations

In past Western RoundUp columns, I’ve written on multiple occasions about Westerns filmed in Lone Pine, California.

Countless Westerns were filmed in Lone Pine’s Alabama Hills and other nearby areas. Past columns include a look at Hop-a-Long Cassidy (1935) On Location in Lone Pine and Lone Pine Favorites; the latter column includes photos of Lone Pine locations from Rawhide (1951), 7 Men From Now (1956), and The Hired Gun (1957).

It’s great fun for a Western fan to explore the area and see where favorite films were shot. For this month’s column, here’s a look at a few more Western locations filmed in the Lone Pine area.

The Cisco Kid and the Lady (1939)

Cesar Romero plays the Cisco Kid in a very enjoyable film which I saw for the first time at this year’s Lone Pine Film Festival.

In a story somewhat reminiscent of the oft-filmed Three Godfathers story, the genial bandit the Cisco Kid and his friend Gordito (Chris-Pin Martin) find a dead miner’s baby in the middle of the desert. The baby ends up in the care of a lovely schoolteacher (Marjorie Weaver); meanwhile, the Cisco Kid works to locate the mine which is the baby’s inheritance.

After seeing the movie, we went on a tour of the locations with guide Greg Parker, who prepared a booklet of screenshots for us to compare to the actual locations.

Here are two examples of screenshots and my photos of the actual Alabama Hills locations, which haven’t changed a bit since filming. A few decades are but a blip of an eye in the history of these rocks!

The Cisco Kid and the Lady (1939)
On location today
The Cisco Kid and the Lady (1939)
On location today

Yellow Sky (1948)

Yellow Sky is a terrific William Wellman Western starring Gregory Peck as an outlaw, with Anne Baxter as a woman Peck and his gang (including Richard Widmark and John Russell) meet while hiding in a ghost town.  

I wrote about the movie in my 2018 Lone Pine Favorites column, but at the time I didn’t have location photos to share.  This year we did some exploring on our own and found the water hole seen in the movie.

First, here are a couple of screenshots of the area as seen in the film.  That’s Baxter standing on a rock while holding a rifle; Russell is drinking water at the bottom of the photo.

Yellow Sky (1948)
Anne Baxter and John Russell in Yellow Sky (1948)

Compare those scenes to the actual location, seen below; the water hole was located in the foreground. We were delighted to discover that a tiny man-made “dam” created by the filming crew to create the water hole still exists today. 

On location of Yellow Sky (1948)
Man-Made Dam

Visitors to the Alabama Hills can also find permanent changes left behind by the crews of several other films, including Army Girl (1938), Gunga Din (1939), The Hitch-Hiker (1953), and King of the Khyber Rifles (1953); they might not be readily apparent to the casual observer, but those in the know can spot them easily.

The Law and Jake Wade (1958)

Robert Taylor plays Marshal Jake Wade, who repays an old debt when he busts outlaw Clint Hollister (Richard Widmark) out of jail.

The ungrateful Clint later takes Jake and Jake’s girlfriend Peggy (Patricia Owens) hostage, and they ultimately have a confrontation in a ghost town.

Unlike many Westerns shot in the Lone Pine area, The Law and Jake Wade didn’t film in the Alabama Hills; instead, the crew built a ghost town on the opposite side of town, in the same area where a town was built a couple of years earlier for Bad Day at Black Rock (1955).

Like movies filmed in the Alabama Hills, the ghost town scenes have the same great views of Lone Pine Peak and Mount Whitney in the background.

Here’s a screenshot of the town from the movie
Here’s how the same area looks today

and I also have a 2019 photograph of tour guide Jerry Condit holding a still of the ghost town set:

The Tall T (1957)

The Tall T is one of the outstanding Westerns Randolph Scott made in collaboration with director Budd Boetticher.

For the majority of the film, Scott and Maureen O’Sullivan are held prisoner by outlaw Richard Boone at a cave.

The Tall T (1957)
The film crew added the “cave entrance” to an imposing “mountain” of rocks, as seen here

Ride Lonesome (1959)

I wrote about another Scott-Boetticher film, Ride Lonesome, in my very first Western RoundUp column. It’s a film I’ve seen multiple times, which gets better on each viewing.

This year our friend, Lone Pine tour guide Don Kelsen, took us and a few other people on a hike to a location seen at the beginning of the movie. It was a bit of an uphill climb getting there, but very worthwhile!

Here’s a screenshot of an opening scene in the film where Randolph Scott captures James Best:

And here’s the location today. The rocks in the screenshot can easily be matched up with this photo.

Visiting film locations such as these is both fun and informative, giving the Western fan new perspectives to appreciate when watching films made in Lone Pine.

The photographs of the Alabama Hills accompanying this article are from the author’s personal collection.

– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns.  She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals.  Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.

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