In June 2024 I somewhat impulsively signed up for a Kickstarter
project to bring a pair of long-unseen silent Tom Tyler Westerns to Blu-ray.
The Kickstarter was started by Tom Tyler fan extraordinaire Mary Della Valle, creator of the website Aventuras de Tom Tyler.
One of the set’s films, The Man From Nevada (1929),
was in the library of the HMH Moving Image Archive at the University of
Southern California, while four of five reels for The Law of the Plains
(1929) were at the Library of Congress.
The original nitrate prints were scanned in 2K by the USC
School of Cinematic Arts (for The Man From Nevada) and Ben Model’s Undercrank Productions
(for The Law of the Plains), with the set of both films ultimately released
by Undercrank.
I was especially glad I signed up for the Kickstarter when
Tom Tyler’s niece, Sandra Slepski, coincidentally appeared at the Lone
Pine Film Festival in October 2024, just a few months after I supported the
Kickstarter.
Slepski was interviewed by Henry C. Parke at a screening of
one of the movies Tyler had made in Lone Pine, Rip Roarin’ Buckaroo
(1936). I quite enjoyed the movie and became
eager to see more of his films.
Sandra Slepski and Henry Parke
In her interview Sandra shared insights into her uncle’s
life; he was born to Lithuanian immigrants in New York, birth name Vincent
Markowski, and raised in Michigan. He aspired to be an actor from an early age,
moving to Hollywood and working hard to lose his Lithuanian accent.
Renamed Tom Tyler, he starred in many silent and sound
“B” Westerns, not to mention the popular serial Adventures of
Captain Marvel (1941).
Tyler also took small but memorable roles in more
prestigious “A” level Westerns, including John Ford’s Stagecoach
(1939), where he played villainous Luke Plummer, and Ford’s She Wore a
Yellow Ribbon (1949), where he was cast as Cpl. Mike Quayne. In the latter film Quayne was the soldier
operated on in a moving wagon during a memorable storm sequence.
Late in his life Tom was beset by ill health, caused by an
incurable autoimmune disease, and moved in with Sandra’s family in Michigan, so
she knew him well when she was young. He was only 50 when he passed away.
Tom was buried in
Detroit, Michigan. A beautiful gravestone depicts Tom as a young man in cowboy
gear.
For those who would like to learn more about Tom Tyler, a
biographical sketch of the actor is posted at Lone Pine’s Museum of Western
Film History website.
I first watched The Man From Nevada, a 48-minute film
originally released in August 1929. It
was directed by J.P. McGowan, shot by Hap Depew, and written by Sally Winters,
all of whom also worked on the other film in the set, The Law of the Plains.
The Man From Nevada has a fairly simple plot, in
which Jack Carter (Tyler) intervenes when shiftless Jim Watkins (Alfred
Hewston) and his family are threatened by
a claim jumper (Al Ferguson).
Jack has taken a shine to Jim’s pretty adult daughter
Virginia (Natalie Joyce), who is responsible for her three motherless brothers
(played by Kip Cooper, Godfrey Craig, and Frank Crane).
Tyler is quite personable, and with such a short running
time the movie is packed with story and action, notably including a sequence
with a baby in a runaway wagon.
Much of the movie was filmed outdoors; I’ve been trying to
find out the location, as I didn’t recognize it as one of the standard
locations used on many “B” Westerns shot in Southern California.
Joyce, Ferguson, and William “Bill” Nolte also appeared with
Tyler in The Law of the Plains, and the movie’s director, J.P. McGowan,
even took an acting role in this one, playing the murderous villain.
Tyler has a dual role in The Law of the Plains, initially playing O’Brien, a former Marine ranching somewhere in South America. About to sell his ranch, he’s instead murdered by Seagrue (McGowan) as O’Brien’s young son Dan (Robert Parrish) watches.
Fast forward in time and Tyler then plays the adult Dan, a
cowboy whose trail drive brings him back to his former home. Seagrue is still
running the ranch he stole from Dan’s father, and, having recognized Dan, he intends
to kill him too.
Dan not only battles Seagrue, he saves Seagrue’s niece
Natalie (Joyce) from being forced to marry a man she doesn’t love.
It sounds like melodrama, and it is, but this 55-minute film
is well done, with plenty of outdoor filming and action. One reel is missing,
but the story is filled in with photo stills and narrative cards, which fill
the gap nicely.
One of the most interesting aspects of The Law of the
Plains was that the actor who played Dan as a child, Robert Parrish, grew
up to be an Oscar-winning editor (for 1947’s Body and Soul which starred
John Garfield) and then a director.
Parrish directed Westerns including Saddle the Wind
(1948) with Robert Taylor and The Wonderful Country (1959) with Robert
Mitchum. Parrish also directed a good
Joel McCrea movie filmed in England, Shoot First (1953), aka Rough
Shoot.
The prints of both movies in this Blu-ray set were
remarkably good for minor “B” films of the ‘20s which have been out of the
public eye for many years. Both films in this set have new scores by Ben Model
of Undercrank Productions.
The disc also includes a short yet informative introduction
to Tom Tyler.
I found these quite entertaining and encourage anyone who enjoys silent films or “off the beaten path” Westerns to give them a try. If a Volume 2 of Tyler films were ever to be released, I would definitely buy it!
…
– 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.
I’m happy to say that this is my 100th
column for Classic Movie Hub! It’s hard to believe I’ve been a columnist here
for several years now, covering this niche era that fascinates me to no end.
I’ve enjoyed covering a wide variety of silent film topics for you all and hope
you continue checking out my columns in the future!
1925 was a very important year in cinema
history, a year when multiple silent classics hit the theaters: The Gold
Rush! The Lost World! The Phantom of the Opera! Stars like
Rudolph Valentino, Clara Bow and Harold Lloyd were in their prime, and
Hollywood had an impressive roster of directors such as Clarence Brown, Ernest
Lubitch, and King Vidor. 1925 was right in the thick of the golden age of
moviegoing: in the U.S. alone, tens of millions of Americans flocked to the
theaters each and every week.
Is it possible to figure out the top ten films
of this seminal year? As I cautioned in my columns about the biggest box office
successes of 1923 and 1924, silent era box office statistics are tough to
decipher since many theaters didn’t keep exact records. The following figures
should be considered “generally agreed-upon estimates” rather than “absolute
facts”–although it’s almost undeniable that the biggest box office hit of the
silent era came out in 1925. Almost!
10. East
Lynne–$1,100,00
This drama seems to have narrowly beat out
Eric von Stroheim’s The Merry Widow for a spot on this list. Based on an
older play that was so well-known it was basically a synonym for “melodrama,”
it starred Alma Rubens, Edmund Lowe, Lou Tellegen and a host of other respected
actors. Lavishly made, it was a serious adaptation of a work that had sometimes
been dismissed as a “hoary old chestnut” from Victorian times.
9. Little
Annie Rooney–$1,100,000
An icon of American cinema since the 1910s,
Mary Pickford was known for playing “little girl” characters but in the early
1920s had attempted to branch out into more mature roles. Audiences clamored
for her to play young characters again, so she–at age 33–obligingly starred as
the spunky Irish girl “Annie Rooney.” Her performance was as convincing as ever
and the film was loved by audiences and critics alike.
8. The
Lost World–$1,300,000
This adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle’s
beloved fantasy adventure marked a milestone in visual effects. While there
were a few dinosaur-themed films predating The Lost World, such as Gertie
the Dinosaur (1914) and The Ghost of Slumber Mountain (1918), this
was the first full-length feature where they were front and center. The stop
motion effects by Willis O’Brien were very impressive at the time and still
have a lot of personality today.
7.
Stella Dallas–$1,500,000
Actress Belle Bennett was handpicked by Samuel
Goldwyn to play the titular character of this drama, made for the lofty sum of
$700,000. Based on a novel, it was about the unlikely marriage of the wealthy
Stephen Dallas and the lower class Stella. Mocked by the uppercrust for her
tacky tastes and inability to assimilate to high society, Stella eventually
agrees to divorce Stephen. In time Stella’s faced with the choice to set aside
pride to give her only daughter a brighter future. Beautifully directed by Henry
King, it was a heartfelt film and a major hit in its day.
6. Don
Q, Son of Zorro–$1,600,000
The sequel to his megahit The Mark of Zorro
(1920), Don Q was Douglas Fairbanks’s return to swashbuckling form after
his ambitiously lavish, big-budget fantasy The Thief of Bagdad (1924).
Fairbanks played dual roles of both the dashing university student Cesar and
his father Don Diego de la Vega, a.k.a. Zorro. Well-crafted with some high
stakes twists and Fairbanks’s signature physical stunts, it was yet another
blockbuster under his belt.
5. The
Phantom of the Opera–$2,000,000
With its astonishing performance by Lon
Chaney, this Gothic horror classic was a huge success. Today this film is
legendary for the sudden, shocking reveal of the Phantom’s disfigured face,
which reportedly caused some audience members to faint. Chaney used makeup,
putty, wire and an old set of false teeth for his radical transformation, and
to this day his creation was certainly the most faithful to the original
novel’s description.
4. The
Freshman–$2,600,000
It wouldn’t be a “top ten films of the 1920s”
list without Harold Lloyd. With its story of a cheerfully naive freshman
determined to become a football star, The Freshman was Lloyd’s twist on
the college-themed comedies that were so popular at the time. It remains a
timeless, breezy mood-brightener that can appeal to young and old alike.
3. The
Gold Rush–$4,000,000
Chaplin’s The Gold Rush was as beloved
in its time as it still is today. An impeccable blend of comedy and tragedy set
during the Klondike gold rush, its budget of nearly $1,000,000 made it the most
expensive silent era comedy. It features some of Chaplin’s finest gags, such as
the famous sequence of his starving character dining lavishly on a boiled shoe.
2. Ben-Hur:
A Tale of the Christ–$9,000,000
Today the Charleton Heston version is more
familiar, but the 1925 Ben-Hur was a cinematic milestone and the silent
era’s most expensive film. Re-castings, accidents, and other mishaps dragged
out production over two years, with both actors and animals frequently being
put in harm’s way during the action scenes. Heavy promotion helped rocket the
film to the top of the box office, but production costs ironically kept it from
turning a profit.
1. The
Big Parade–$15,000,000-$20,000,000
Action, romance, humor, tragedy, heart–The
Big Parade had it all, and it also dared to critique the horrors of the war
that had so profoundly changed the world. An MGM feature, it starred John
Gilbert and Renee Adoree and was directed by King Vidor, who wanted to do “all
that was humanly possible to ensure accuracy on this picture.” A runaway
success, it grossed over $6 million domestically when it was first released and
would be reshown frequently in the following years. Its worldwide box office
gross would eventually top $15 million, with some sources reporting a gross in
excess of $20 million, a record for MGM until Gone With the Wind.
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.
Happy Holidays! It’s the most wonderful time of the year when
family and friends gather, eat lots of food and exchange gifts that say “I
care.”
But not everyone is so lucky and may have to depend on the kindness of strangers to bring them holiday joy. For the kids at the Home for Orphans and Destitute Children, that person is Mrs. Rosie Forrest (“call me Aunt Roo”), who hosts an annual holiday party/sleepover for 10 lucky youngsters at her mansion, Forrest Grange (the kids call it the Gingerbread House).
Shelley Winters loves to entertain children in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?
Sounds wonderful for the children except that this is happening in the 1971 holiday horror film Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? And once we realize something isn’t right, we fear for the kids. It stars Shelley Winters as Aunt Roo, Ralph Richardson as a “medium” and young Mark Lester as one of the orphans. (Note: though the film title is “Auntie” Roo, she asks the children to call her Aunt Roo.)
I had never seen the film and a quick search said it was
loosely based on Hansel and Gretel. That’s not the spoiler you would
expect it to be so I’m glad I watched it.
The orphans are told to stop calling Aunt Roo’s home “the Gingerbread House,” even though it looks like one.
Yes, the film’s main setting is a large Victorian
gingerbread house. And yes, one of the main characters can recite the fairy tale
by heart. But there’s more going on here.
From the start, we’re given information we don’t quite know
what to do with. In a room filled with creepy dolls and puppets, Aunt Roo – glamorous
in a tiara and evening gown – is lovingly singing to her sleeping daughter. Or is
that what we’re really seeing?
Not even two minutes into the film and the tone abruptly
shifts to one of horror as thunder booms, a storm surges and a majestically
atmospheric score written by Kenneth V. Jones sets the mood. It’s a wonderful opening for a horror film.
Mr. Benton (Ralph Richardson) quickly arrives for his regular series of seances with Aunt Roo who is desperately trying to contact her missing daughter by whatever means necessary. The storm seems like a perfect backdrop to reach out to the other side, Aunt Roo says, and sure enough we’ll hear tapping in the house and a voice calling out. It won’t be the only time.
Creepy butler Albie (played by Michael Gothard) finds siblings Christopher (Mark Lester) and Katy (Chloe Franks) hiding at Aunt Roo’s holiday party in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?.
The next day is the holiday sleepover and the children are taken to the mansion but they aren’t alone: Two other orphans have stowed away to attend the party. They are Christopher (Mark Lester) and his little sister Katy (Chloe Franks). The camera loves these beautiful kids with their big eyes and innocent faces. Generous Aunt Roo lets them stay. “There’s always enough room for children at Forrest Grange,” she says.
Aunt Roo welcomes orphans into her festively decorated home and they don’t seem to mind the gingerbread cookies look like the abominable snowman.
It’s a marvelous Christmas Eve party where kids eat gingerbread cookies, listen to holiday music and are read The Night Before Christmas by Aunt Roo. Then they’re off to bed waiting for Santa while the adults have another séance.
Angelic-looking orphan Katy (Chloe Franks) draws the interest of Aunt Roo?
Little Katy, who has been awakened by calls of “Katherine, come to us,” interrupts the séance at a most dramatic moment. “I heard talking, they were calling,” Katy says in her adorable voice sounding and looking like the missing Katherine. (We can see where this is going, right?)
Christopher has followed his sister but stops to investigate sounds of tapping and talking coming from inside a locked room. When Aunt Roo shows him there’s nobody there, he doesn’t believe it and neither do we. (We know what we saw and heard.)
Christmas comes and the kids are overjoyed with gifts from Aunt Roo who truly loves to make the children happy. (Still, you’ll wonder, can we trust her?) She’ll also sing for them and let them play outside where the curious Christopher and Katy discover a scary room in a barn.
It’s where Aunt Roo’s husband, a magician, stored everything for his shows including a guillotine that the kids think is a toy. Guess again. (Think of the room as an amusement park fun house with strange sounds, decapitated heads, inanimate objects that move and figures that will leap out from the dark. It’s pretty scary.)
Has the phrase “child’s play” ever been more dangerous than when Christopher (Mark Lester) and Katy (Chloe Frank) play around with a guillotine in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?
When it’s time for the kids to return to the orphanage, Katy can’t be found but no one other than her brother seems concerned. Christopher heard Aunt Roo tempting his sister with promises of a new home and of fattening her up like the witch does in Hansel and Gretel.
There’s already so much going on by this point that the
viewer has options on where they think the story is going. We’ve got seances,
skeletons, a creepy butler, a mean headmistress, a gingerbread house (including
a disturbing miniature version in a child’s room), hidden passages (always a
favorite) and a kid with an overactive imagination to keep it all going.
Don’t forget the unexplained tapping and crying, visions of a woman shrouded in black and missing people.
Christopher’s (Mark Lester) overactive imagination goes into hyper-drive as Aunt Roo (Shelley Winter) prepares dinner in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?
When you think you have it figured out, there’s always another dribble of information that changes your perceptions. Is Aunt Roo a mother in mourning we should pity? A killer to fear? Or just an eccentric? Can she be all or none of those? What about that strange butler Albie (Michael Gothard)? Is he just weird, an opportunist, perhaps a crook or worse? And what’s up with the character identified as the “Pigman” in the credits (played by Hugh Griffith) who delivers fresh meat to the estate?
It’s easy to wonder if Christopher is right about the secrets of the Gingerbread House and that Aunt Roo is the evil witch from Hansel and Gretel. But are we letting our imaginations get the best of us like Christopher does? If we are, I say let it. That’s what movies are for.
So get some gingerbread cookies, pour a cup of hot cocoa and join Aunt Roo and the children for the holidays.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer in Buffalo, N.Y. 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.
When my daughters were little, I bought them a tabletop talking
holiday tree named Douglas Fir, who had big, blinking eyes and a mouth that
moved when he talked or sang. And, as Douglas would say every time we flicked
his ON switch, “It’s Christmastime!!!!!”
To celebrate the holiday season (but stay within a budget –
a LOW-budget, that is!) I’m gifting you
with a list of five first-rate ‘B’ noirs that you may not have seen – because
everybody loves a good ‘B’ movie, amirite?
The Great Flamarion (1945)
Erich von Stroheim and Mary Beth Hughes, The Great Flamarion
This Republic Pictures gem stars Erich von Stroheim in the
title role of a talented sharpshooter who loses his head over a dame and lives
to regret it. The dame is sweet-faced Connie Wallace (Mary Beth Hughes) who,
along with her dipsomaniac husband, Al (Dan Duryea), works for Flamarion in his
prestigious vaudeville act. It takes some doing to chisel through her boss’s
granite exterior, but Connie manages to convince him that’s she desperately in
love with him – and before you can say “Stick to your guns,” she’s also talked
Flamarion into believing that Al is all that’s standing in the way of their happiness.
Three guesses as to how this one turns out – and the first two don’t count.
Trivia tidbit: Erich von Stroheim is considered by many film
critics to be one of the greatest directors of the silent era.
Decoy (1946)
Herbert Rudley, Edward Norris, Jean Gillie and Robert Armstrong, Decoy
I cannot get enough of this wild and woolly film from
Monogram Pictures. The story focuses on Margot Shelby (Jean Gillie), the
beautiful but conniving girlfriend of imprisoned gang leader Frankie Olins
(Robert Armstrong), who’s on death row. But if Frankie gets the electric chair,
as planned, he takes with him the secret of where he has hidden the proceeds
from the heist that landed him in the pokey. And Margot isn’t having it. So,
she uses her considerable wiles to get a local doctor, Lloyd Craig (Herbert Rudley),
to help her break Frankie out of prison – after he’s been executed and
then resuscitate him! Don’t ask me how this is pulled off. Just trust me when I
say you’ve got to see it to believe it.
Trivia tidbit: The cast includes Sheldon Leonard, who went
on to produce such successful television series as The Danny Thomas Show,
I Spy, The Andy Griffith Show, and The Dick Van Dyke Show.
Night Editor (1946)
Janis Carter and William Gargan, Night Editor
Columbia Pictures released this feature starring William
Gargan as police lieutenant – and family man – Tony Cochrane (William Gargan),
who gets more than he bargained for when he starts stepping out with married
socialite Jill Merrill (Janis Carter). After the cheating duo witnesses a
violent murder (which Jill is inordinately excited about, by the way), Tony has
to figure out how to carry out an investigation without revealing that he saw
the commission of the crime – and what he was doing when he did.
Trivia tidbit: Night Editor was supposed to kick off a
series of films that depicted stories told by reporters on the police beat, but
the series never materialized.
The Devil Thumbs a Ride (1947)
Lawrence Tierney and Ted North, The Devil Thumbs a Ride
This film, produced by RKO, stars Lawrence Tierney as the
devil of the title – also known as Steve Morgan who, at the start of the
picture, robs and kills the night manager of a bank. He proceeds to hitch a
ride with traveling salesman Jimmy Ferguson (Ted North) and convinces the
jovial driver to pick up two women on the road (Nan Leslie and Betty Lawford).
The foursome wind up at a beach house owned by a friend of Jimmy’s, where Steve
flattens the tires on Jimmy’s car, disables the telephone, and proceeds to
inflict a week’s worth of criminality and chaos in just a few hours’ time.
Trivia tidbit: Ted North was married for three years, from 1943
to 1947, to Great Flamarion femme fatale, Mary Beth Hughes.
Shed No Tears (1948)
Mark Roberts and June Vincent, Shed No Tears,
The little-known Equity Pictures was responsible for this
hidden jewel, which stars Wallace Ford as Sam Grover, who fakes his death so
that he and his blonde bombshell wife Edna (June Vincent) can profit from the
insurance payout. But what Sam doesn’t know is that Edna has a fella on the
side – Ray Belden (Mark Roberts) – and has every intention of taking the cash
from the insurance and skipping off into the sunset with Ray. But as crafty as
Edna is, she didn’t reckon on Sam’s son, Tom; a loquacious private investigator
Tom hires to look into his dad’s death – and Sam himself.
Trivia tidbit: The cast of this one has a slew of familiar
faces, including Elena Verdugo, who I remember as Marcus Welby’s receptionist
on the popular 1970s TV series; Mary Treen, who may be best known for her role
as Cousin Tilly in It’s a Wonderful Life (1946); and Paul Maxey, who can
be seen in several other noirs, including two 1947 features, They Won’t
Believe Me and Ride the Pink Horse, but who I know best as the
rotund train investigator who kept squeezing past Charles McGraw in the train
corridors on The Narrow Margin (1952).
I hope you’re able to check out at least one of these underrated features – you only owe it to yourself, after all – and that you have a safe and beautiful holiday season! May the noir be with you!
…
– 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:
Despite
the sweetness of its title, Baby Face (1933) packs a punch so spicy that
it’s famous even among Pre-Code pictures for its frankness about transactional
sexual relationships. The pre-release version of the movie caused a ruckus with
the censors that Warner Bros. tried to appease with a new ending, several
minutes of editing, and some altered dialogue, but we’re lucky to have the rediscovered
original cut, which is definitely the one to see if you have access to both
versions. It’s a powerhouse performance by Barbara Stanwyck as the grimly
determined Lily Powers, a young woman who chooses to exploit her sexuality for
her own social and financial gain, but the film’s attitude toward its
protagonist is complex, neither whole-heartedly endorsing nor condemning her
actions. As an example of the adventuress, Lily exhibits the amorality and
materialism one might associate with a villain, but instead she functions more
as an anti-hero whose refusal to play by the rules makes sense when the game is
so outrageously rigged against her.
Lily (Barbara Stanwyck) and Chico (Theresa Harris) have a miserable life at the speakeasy run by Lily’s father.
Raised in
a shabby speakeasy and prostituted by her father (Robert Barrat) from the age
of 14, Lily spends her nights fending off the advances of drunken customers.
She and her friend, Chico (Theresa Harris), run away to New York City to seek
their fortune, where Lily takes the advice of her philosophical mentor, Mr.
Cragg (Alphonse Ethier), to use men in order to get wealth and opportunity for
herself. She starts in the employment office at a large bank, where she works
her way through a series of lovers who can provide better jobs, clothes, and
apartments until she becomes embroiled in a scandal that forces her to relocate
to Paris, where her apparent reformation attracts the admiration of the new bank
president, Courtland Trenholm (George Brent). Unfortunately for Courtland, his
tenure at the bank coincides with disastrous mismanagement, which tests Lily’s ability
to value love over her own financial security.
Lily and Chico arrive in New York City and start looking for opportunities to improve their situation.
The censors
might have clutched their Bibles over the brazen behavior of such a Jezebel, and
in a different movie – say, The Women (1939) – a character like Lily
might be branded an evil adventuress and destined for rejection, scorn, and punishment.
The term “adventuress” dates from the 18th century and refers to a
woman who advances herself through unscrupulous (i.e. sexual) means. While a
male “adventurer” is seen as a brave explorer, even if he seeks wealth and
reputation for his own gain, a female “adventuress” defies patriarchal gender
norms with her ambition, interest in wealth and or power, and her willingness
to trade sexual favors in order to attain them. Lily is very much a classic
adventuress in many respects. She makes remarkable speed through her lovers,
encouraging and then discarding at least five that we see before she meets
Courtland, which puts her well beyond many of her cinematic sisters and into
the literary territory of infamous 18th-century examples like Moll
Flanders (1722), Roxana (1724), and Fanny Hill (1748), all of
whom rattled the censorious moralists of their day, too. Lily even causes a
murder-suicide when one of her former lovers can’t accept his dismissal, which
only seems to bother her because it requires her to navigate the subsequent scandal.
Her last-minute reformation in either version of the ending can’t undo her
earlier actions, and both versions seem to let her off easy by taking her money
but leaving her with less tangible rewards intact.
One of Lily’s lovers is played by a very young John Wayne.
Those
endings make more sense if we think about Lily’s role as more anti-hero than
villain. The most famous example of the adventuress as anti-hero is Becky Sharp
in William Makepeace Thackeray’s 19th-century novel, Vanity Fair,
which is pointedly subtitled A Novel without a Hero. Lily is no hero,
either, and she has many characteristics in common with Becky, but Lily
ultimately comes across as a more sympathetic figure. From the beginning, we
understand that Lily has been born into a hard life without opportunities or parental
protection, and there is really no question of her trying to make the best of
her nightmarish situation after her own father prostitutes her to his
customers. Becky shows only the rarest flashes of kindness toward her supposed
friend, Amelia, but Lily demonstrates early and constant friendship for Chico, even
though the pair adopt the roles of mistress and maid in New York. Lily might be
called a homewrecker for her affairs with married and engaged men, but she
never seduces any man who isn’t eager to accept her offer, even as they imagine
her to be more virtuous and innocent than she really is. Lily’s lovers don’t
seem concerned that they are cheating on their wives and possibly ruining the
reputation of a young woman, so it’s impossible to see them as innocent
victims. The scene in which Lily faces the bank board after the murder-suicide
accurately depicts the world she inhabits, where cabals of old white men have
all the power. We can’t blame Lily for trying to play them in order to get a
tiny portion of their wealth for herself, and Courtland doesn’t seem to blame
her, either, even though it’s his job to prevent her from fleecing the bank.
Lily and Courtland fall for each other, although Courtland knows about her
past, mainly because they’re both players, and it’s Lily who introduces the
idea of marriage as opposed to a prolonged affair. Lily’s final reformation in
the pre-release cut might seem sudden, but we know that Courtland has been
different from the other men in her life from their very first meeting, so if
any man is going to be worth more to her than her money it has to be him. The
ambiguity of the pre-release ending lets us imagine what ultimately happens to
the couple instead of insisting on a specific outcome, so Lily and Courtland
can have whatever ending the viewer thinks they deserve.
When the bank blames Courtland (George Brent) for its problems, Lily has to choose between her money and her husband.
Sadly, the
arrival of heavy-handed Code enforcement in 1934 would make stories like Baby
Face harder to find in the ensuing decades, but plenty of other Pre-Code
movies offer great examples. See Jean Harlow in Red-Headed Woman (1932)
and Mae West in She Done Him Wrong (1933) for more of Pre-Code’s
sexually transgressive adventuresses. For more of Barbara Stanwyck’s early
roles, see Night Nurse (1931), Shopworn (1932), and Ladies
They Talk About (1933). Stanwyck went on to earn Best Actress Oscar
nominations for Stella Dallas (1937), Ball of Fire (1941), Double
Indemnity (1944), and Sorry, Wrong Number (1948), but she never won.
For more of the great but often uncredited Theresa Harris, try Hold Your Man
(1933), The Flame of New Orleans (1941), and I Walked with a Zombie
(1943).
Vera Zorina was born Eva Brigitta Hartwig in Berlin,
Germany, on January 2, 1917. Her parents, Fritz and Abigail “Billie” Hartwig
were professional singers.
Zorina grew up in the coastal town of Kristiansund, Norway,
where she began her dancing career at Festiviteten, the local theatre. Zorina
fell in love with ballet at an early age, reportedly taking her ballet slippers
to bed with her at the age of two. By age four, she was performing locally. She
studied at the Lyceum for Girls in Berlin and trained in dance under Olga
Preobrajenska and Nicholas Legat.
When she was 12 years old, Max Reinhardt cast her in a 1929
production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
followed by a 1931 production of Tales of
Hoffman. She was invited to join the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in 1933,
upon which she took on the stage name of Vera Zorina. The company wanted her to
perform under a Russian name. Of the 20 names they suggested, the one she
settled on was the only one she could pronounce.
Zorina carried out the lead role in a London production of On Your Toes (1937), where she was
spotted by film producer Samuel Goldwyn. He signed her to a seven-year
contract, initiating her Hollywood film career.
Over the years, Zorina’s film performances included roles in
The Goldwyn Follies (1938), On Your Toes (1939), I Was an Adventuress (1940), Louisiana Purchase (1941), Star Spangled Rhythm (1942), and Follow the Boys (1944). Her final film
role was in Lover Come Back (1946).
In 1938, Zorina married choreographer George Balanchine. She
appeared in productions he choreographed until their divorce in 1946. In the
same year, she married Goddard Lieberson, president of Columbia Records. They
had two sons: Peter and Jonathan. They divorced in 1977.
Zorina continued her stage career with productions of I Married an Angel (1938), The Tempest (1945), and Joan of Arc at the Stake (1948). She
directed a production of Cabaret in
1968 at the Oslo Nye Teater in Oslo, Norway. She was appointed director of the
Norwegian National Opera and Ballet in the 1970s but ultimately left the role
due to her husband’s illness. Her final stage performance was in Perséphone
with the New York City Ballet in 1982.
Zorina was active as a director and adviser with Lincoln
Center and directed operas at the Santa Fe Opera once she moved to New Mexico.
She also published an autobiography in 1986 entitled Zorina. Additionally, she remained committed to her Catholic faith
and was an Oblate of the Benedictine Order.
Zorina’s final marriage was to harpsichordist Paul Wolfe.
They remained married until her passing in 2003. Her cause of death was
undisclosed. She was 86 years old.
Today, some points of interest relating to Zorina’s life
remain.
In 1943, she lived at 120 East End Ave., New York, New York.
This building stands.
120 East End Ave., New York City
By 1961, she lived at 247 E. 61st St., New York,
New York, which also remains.
247 E. 61st St., New York City
In her later years, she resided at 22 Camino Caruso, Santa
Fe, New Mexico. The ranch also stands today.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the “Hometowns to Hollywood” blog, in which she profiles her trips to the hometowns of classic Hollywood stars. She has also been featured on the popular classic film-oriented television network, Turner Classic Movies. A regular columnist for Classic Movie Hub, her articles have appeared in TCM Backlot, Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, The Dark Pages Film Noir Newsletter, and Chicago Art Deco Society Magazine.
Once or twice a year I pay tribute to Western filmmakers in
this column via sharing visits to their final resting places.
I’ve been privileged to visit these sites, located
throughout the Los Angeles area and beyond, over a period of several years.
It’s my hope that these photographic tributes enable
far-flung readers to join me in reflecting on what each person’s work has
contributed to the Western genre. They may no longer be with us, but
thanks to film their work lives on.
Earlier this year I attended a family funeral at Forest
Lawn Cypress in Cypress, California. Before departing the cemetery I
stopped by the gravesite of cowboy star Ken Maynard to pay my respects.
Maynard’s Western career began in the silents and continued
through 1944, with a couple additional films in the early ’70s, not long before
his 1973 passing. I most recently watched Maynard in The Fiddlin’
Buckaroo (1933) at this year’s Lone Pine Film
Festival.
Ken Maynard’s younger brother was cowboy actor Kermit
Maynard, who is buried at Valhalla Memorial Park in North Hollywood.
While I have not yet been to Kermit Maynard’s burial place, I’ve visited a
memorial plaque for famed stuntman extraordinaire Yakima Canutt at Valhalla.
Canutt’s stunts include the “under the horses” scene in John Ford’s Stagecoach
(1939).
Also at Valhalla is actress Martha Vickers. Vickers’
most famous role was as Carmen Sternwood in The Big Sleep (1946),
but her last feature film was a “B” Western I love, Four Fast
Guns (1960). I wrote about it here in a 2020 column on “Hidden Gems.”
Vickers, who was at one point married to producer A.C.
Lyles and then actor Mickey Rooney, is buried under her final married name,
Rojas.
Vickers’ first husband, A.C. Lyles, is at Westwood Memorial
Park in Westwood, California. Lyles lived to 95 and was a popular figure
in Hollywood. I recall seeing him walk by, looking quite dapper, as I stood in
line at the 2012 TCM Classic Film Festival the year before he
passed.
Lyles may be best known by Western fans for his ’60s series
of what are sometimes affectionately called “Geezer Westerns,”
utilizing the great talents of beloved, if then slightly over-the-hill, stars
such as Scott Brady, Dale Robertson, Virginia Mayo, Yvonne de Carlo, Dana
Andrews, Rory Calhoun, Howard Keel, Jane Russell, and many more.
A number of other actors are interred at Westwood. There’s
a memorial bench for actor James Coburn near Lyles’ bench. Coburn was one
of the stars of Ride Lonesome (1959), which I wrote about in
my very first column here back in 2018. Ride
Lonesome is one of my all-time favorite movies. Coburn’s Westerns also
included The Magnificent Seven (1960).
Jane Greer is also at Westwood, where her plaque has faded
and become difficult to read. She is more closely associated with film noir (Out
of the Past) than Westerns, but the RKO “B” Western Sunset
Pass (1946) was an early role. More significantly, Greer starred
opposite Dick Powell in the “Western noir” Station West (1948).
There’s much more about that film in my columns on “Unexpected Western Leads” and “Noir-Tinged Westerns.”
David Nelson, the son of Ozzie and Harriet Nelson and the
older brother of Rick, is best known for his family’s TV series. That said, he
was in a superb Western, Andre De Toth’s Day of the Outlaw (1959),
which I wrote about here in 2018. He is
also at Westwood Memorial Park.
Our last visit at Westwood is at the final resting place of
actor Brian Keith. The son of actor Robert Keith, Brian Keith appeared in
a number of Westerns over the years. My very favorite is Fort
Dobbs (1958), costarring Clint Walker and Virginia Mayo. It’s a
terrific film which I recommend.
We’ll next stop by Desert Memorial Park in Cathedral City,
California, to pay our respects to James Coburn’s Magnificent Seven
costar, Brad Dexter. Dexter’s other Westerns included The Oklahoman (1957)
with Joel McCrea and Last Train From Gun Hill (1959) starring
Kirk Douglas.
Finally, we stop by Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills to visit
the burial site of Glenn Strange. Strange was in countless movie Westerns, most
of them “B’s,” beginning in 1930, and he also guest-starred in many
TV Westerns. His best-known role was as Sam the Bartender in TV’s Gunsmoke;
he appeared on the show from 1961 until 1973, the year he passed away.
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.
So here you are, a big fan of
century-old-or-older films. You’ve seen dozens of slapstick comedies, romantic
dramas, and exciting epics in the solitude of your own home, and you’re
probably well acquainted with the history behind them, too. Obviously the next
step is to see these wonderful films in their natural habitat: the movie
theater. Happily, silent film screenings aren’t as rare as you think,
especially in cities with a thriving arts scene–but might I suggest you try
attending a silent film festival?
These wonderful curated events have popped up
all over the world in the past few decades, and some have even been an annual
tradition since the 1980s. A number of these festivals last just a day or two,
others last a weekend, and a few prestigious fests have a full week of films
playing from morning until night. Every curation is a bit different, but
thoughtful: some might play the big hits by Chaplin or Fairbanks, while others
focus on rarities or new restorations. Everything is projected at the size and
approximate speed that was intended, and in the best quality possible. In all cases these events are attended by a
happy, knowledgeable and welcoming crowd excited to experience their beloved
films on the big screen–and very often with the magic of live musical
accompaniment.
Having had a number of film festival
experiences under my belt, both close to home and even abroad, I’m always happy
to spread the word about these extraordinary movie lovers’ events. And you just
might find them as addictive as I do!
Silent
Film Festivals 101
Image credit: The Kansas Silent Film Festival
Whether you’re looking for a relaxing,
lightly-programmed weekend of films or a multi-day marathon of rarities,
there’s a perfect silent film festival for you! For me, attending a festival
has always started with asking my film lover friends what events they’d
recommend and doing a bit of research online. I’ve also attended silent movie
screenings close to home and met fellow film enthusiasts who shared their
festival experiences with me–you never know what event will pique your
interest!
Silent film festivals are held annually,
usually during the same time frame every year. A typical festival might start
with, say, a Friday evening program of a short film or two and a couple
features, followed by a full day of films on Saturday and Sunday. Some
festivals have sizable breaks between programs, while others might have
substantial breaks for meals and shorter breaks the rest of the time. Often you
have a choice of buying individual tickets for just a few programs or a special
pass that gives you admission to everything (always the best option in my
opinion). And finally, some festivals are completely free (donations welcome!).
Whatever you choose, keep in mind that one of
the biggest joys of these festivals is the live musical accompaniment.
Distinguished musicians travel from all over the world to play at these events,
whether as individual piano players or in full orchestras. The magic of this
live music is often the part that many viewers enjoy the most.
Planning
Your Trip
Image credit: The Pordenone Silent Film Festival
If you’re within driving distance–let alone
walking distance!–from a film festival’s venue then simply clear your
calendar, see if you need to register for the festival online ahead of time
(and if you should pre-purchase your pass), and you are set! But I suspect that
in many cases you’ll be flying to your destination and will have to plan
accordingly. Some important tips to keep in mind:
How
close is your hotel/B&B to the theater? Some
festivals reserve blocks of rooms in nearby hotels with a discounted rate,
while with some you’re more or less on your own. I’ve done a bit of everything:
staying in an apartment rental a short walk from the theater, staying in a
hostel a couple miles away and taking public transportation, staying with a
friend who would Uber to and from the event with me, and even staying at a
B&B across town and using a bike to get to the venue. Whatever you choose,
keep in mind just how bright and early you want to arrive at those morning
screenings–and how late the last evening screenings will end. (Sleep may be at
a premium some days, but trust me–it will be worth it!)
Are you
travelling internationally? Don’t forget to factor in
the mighty specter of jet lag! I’ve arrived at my destination a couple days
before a festival started, giving myself some time to get over the worst of the
lag and feel more bright-eyed once I arrived at the venue. Keep in mind that
cutting it closer means you might end up missing the first day or so if there’s
airport delays (or one of those European train strikes).
How much
are you planning on seeing? Depending on how full the
festival’s schedule is and how hardcore you are, you might plan on seeing a
handful of films a day or settle in for a full-day marathon (it always goes by
much faster than you’d think, especially with the breaks in between). With
multi-day fests don’t worry about skipping a few screenings to get extra sleep
or head to a restaurant with friends–you’re free to choose your own adventure
and you’ll likely be making new friends along the way. Keep an eye out for
nearby restaurants and snack spots and definitely pinpoint where you can get
caffeine!
A Few
Examples
Here are three very different silent film
festivals that I’ve attended–and adored:
The San Francisco Silent Film Festival– This is a fabulous five-day festival taking place every late spring at San Francisco’s beautiful 1920s-era Castro Theatre. Screenings start late morning and continue until late at night, with breaks ranging from half an hour to an hour between each program. It’s an elegantly-curated event focusing mainly on features from both the U.S and around the world, often newly-restored. Silent comedy, romantic dramas, German Expressionism, French avant-garde, Italian epics–it has a bit of everything. Each screening is preceded by a slide show of relevant stills and background info, has a speaker introducing the film, and is accompanied by top-tier musicians. Passes are a bit pricey but worth the quality of the presentation.
The Kansas Silent Film Festival – This welcoming and completely free (yes, free!) Midwestern festival takes place in Kansas’s capital, Topeka, every February in a concert hall at Washburn University. The hall is a comfortable venue with a space that really enhances the quality of the live accompaniment. It mainly includes the more well-known U.S. silents, which is ideal if you’ve been wanting to experience them on the big screen, and is increasingly featuring off-the-beaten-track films as well. All programs are introduced by a presenter–which I always appreciate–and you can also get a ticket for its annual sitdown dinner accompanied by a lecture from a distinguished guest historian. It’s a delightful event with friendly, laidback people who look forward to it all year.
The Pordenone Silent Film Festival– This is widely regarded as the most prestigious silent film festival and takes place in Pordenone, Italy in early October. Featuring a full week of films ranging from cinema’s earliest days to the end of the silent period, it’s a packed schedule of rarities, new discoveries and the latest restorations playing early morning until late at night. Many historians, archivists, restorers and film fans make it a goal to attend this festival at least once, if not every year. The films are shown at the sleek 2000s-era Teatro Verdi, beautifully presented with pitch-perfect musical accompaniment. Most breaks are brief to make time for longer lunch and dinner breaks. Pordenone itself is a charming city with a pedestrian-only downtown, medieval buildings, and plenty of restaurants (and gelato shops). The pass for the whole experience is amazingly affordable: around $100 for the entire week.
In
Conclusion!
Image credit: The San Francisco Silent Film Festival
I hope this all-too-brief overview whets your
appetite for attending one of these fine events! I now categorize my life as
“before” and “after” I started going to film festivals. They’ve given me more
irreplaceable film watching experiences than I can count, not to mention
opportunities to travel to new places and meet wonderful new people. They are
truly the gifts that keep on giving!
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.
Talking horror films and ‘Pre-Code Essentials’ with co-author Danny Reid
Mention a film made any time from 1930 to 1934 to classic movie fans and see how fast someone practically yells “pre-Code!” The term refers to movies made between 1930-34 when the Motion Picture Production Code was adopted and it conjures images that are sexual, sinful and racy, but also violent and exploitative. It’s not difficult to see why they are such fan favorites.
But being a “stick-in-the-mud,” I felt that while pre-Code defined a time period, not all films made in those years fit the criteria since they weren’t all sexual, sinful and racy. So I admit to always rolling my eyes when a mention of Universal’s 1931Dracula on social media would find many people dubbing it “pre-Code!” without any context. But it made me wonder what horror’s role was in pre-Code cinema.
Clearly my view of pre-Code was narrower than the reality, although Luperi and Reid say they don’t base pre-Code only on the dates, but they define it as a “spirit or a vibe.”
Before we get to a Q&A with Danny Reid, here’s more about the book.
They write about traditional horror films like Frankenstein, Freaks, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,The Most Dangerous Game,King Kong and The Black Cat. And they have other dark and disturbing films that straddle horror (The Sin of Nora Moran is a particularly nightmarish film), along with the unexpected horror musical I Am Suzanne! (In short, it’s about Tony who is so obsessed with a dancer named Suzanne that he re-creates her stage show with puppets after she is injured. “You’ll make a beautiful puppet,” says Tony, who then becomes infatuated with the puppet version of Suzanne. Yes, he’s unhinged – one of the hallmarks of pre-Code cinema.)
Bela Lugosi, left, and Boris Karloff in The Black Cat, a film that evokes such chilling topics as war crimes, rape and necrophilia. (Courtesy Turner Classic Movies)
As I read about all 50 films, I could finally see how horror took “popular” pre-Code themes to the extremes. They didn’t stop at being sexy, for example, they went on to perversity. And it’s explained how the financial success of Dracula set the stage for Universal to make Frankenstein and future horror movies like The Black Cat that utilize pre-Code themes like blasphemy and sadism. However, the fact that Dracula left some audience members “hysterical,” led censors to pay much more attention to horror films to come like Frankenstein.
We learn how the films continue to be relevant today. The themes in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde remain “a window into how sexual frustration, righteousness, and societal pressures can lead to outbursts of violence.” That King Konghas timeless social cues and has yet to be topped despite being remade and revisited so often. And the kinky and daring The Most Dangerous Game influenced material like The Hunger Games, and its influence will only continue to grow with time.
From the TCM/Running Press book Pre-Code Essentials: “James Whale’s first entry into the horror genre still towers above its many imitators, seeking to find connection and communion with our own darker impulses lest we let them destroy us. Frankenstein begs for empathy in a world where only ambition rules.”
I can’t recommend Pre-Code Essentials enough. It taught me a lot about the era, the films and the censoring process. How, for example, once the filmmakers got past the studio censors, they had to deal with the individual states. It’s a wonder these movies were released at all, although much-too-often they were cut in ways that left gaping holes. That history is detailed in an entertaining and easy-to-read style in the book which includes fascinating examples of original letters from censors.
Q&A WITH AUTHOR DANNY REID
Danny Reid found time during a recent book tour to answer
some questions. His answers were so thoughtful that they are included fully
here. Enjoy.
Question: What makes the horror films in your book
“essential” pre-Code movies?
Danny Reid (photo by Aubrey Reid)
Danny: While there were a number of silent films we would now categorize as horror, it really wasn’t considered a genre of its own until the early 1930s. These “thrillers” that emerged from the success of Tod Browning’s Dracula basically saved Universal and set off a gold rush at all of the movie studios. They all varied wildly in tone and craft – Paramount’s were sexy, Warners were moody two-tone Technicolor creations, Fox’s were weird, and Universal’s soon became iconic. Universal and Paramount’s forays are probably the best (sorry Doctor X fans), as they sought to be both horrific and lurid, both studios giving their directors room enough to really craft their films in ways to push boundaries of what could and couldn’t be shown on the screen.
There were a lot of good options to pick from for our book,
but the main ones we hit were innovative in their own regards. James
Whale’s Frankenstein took what Browning had started with Dracula and
perfected it while making enough changes to the source material to make it
exciting and fresh, using silent movie pathos to set the creature apart from
what had come before. Mamoullian’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde goes
a step further, putting you into Jekyll’s shoes quite literally and pushing the
envelope in terms of sex and violence. Freaks turns its camera
back at its purported evidence, challenging assumptions while at the same time
serving as a cautionary tale about arrogance and greed. I Am
Suzanne! is about the interior of a woman’s experience, a wacky
musical that also serves as body horror, a movie that may not have been a
direct inspiration for Black Swan but certainly could have
been. Lastly, The Black Cat is the first film that paired
up Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, maneuvering both actors with grim determination
over the graves of old Europe in a dreamy and blasphemous tale.
Question: It’s interesting to read (in your book) that
some films were censored simply because they were “too terrifying.” What do you
think censors were afraid of in these instances?
Danny: I think there are a couple of factors here. First, you have to remember a majority of the motion picture audience was women at the time – they were the ones with the time and the money to go to picture shows, and societal panic about what was good for women was a different beast than what it is it today. (Well… maybe not that different.) And, at the same time, there weren’t really ratings systems; you didn’t know what kind of content you were going to get, so you can see how a devoutly religious person may react to how Frankenstein claims the mandate of God or the thinly hinted acts of necrophilia start to become apparent in The Black Cat. Imagine theaters packed full of women and children and then ask yourself, what, exactly, a censor only a couple of generations from the Victorians wouldn’t want them to see or experience, and a lot of these films would fit the bill. The movies were too bold, too sexual, and too exciting.
Question: What is it about Frankenstein that makes it
an essential above the other Universal monster films?
Danny: Frankenstein and many of the Universal Monsters originated in the pre-Code era – Dracula, The Invisible Man, and The Mummy all come from this fertile period at the studio. Dracula is a lurid, dry shocker with a fantastic performance from Bela Lugosi and enough subtext about interclass warfare to still titillate. The Invisible Man, besides likely having the highest body count of any of the monsters, is the embodiment of a power fantasy also spends a great deal of the film completely nude. And The Mummy plays into pagan beliefs and mysticism, asking long, haunting questions about the long-tailed mysteries of human existence.
However, I would argue that Frankenstein is probably the
most influential and shocking of these. Besides the myriad of pointed
censorship it encountered over the years – the girl’s drowning, especially,
whose removal changes the context of the film – the film is very sacrilegious.
It asks pointed questions about man’s responsibilities to God, to nature, and
to each other, and comes away with a deeply pessimistic assessment. Karloff’s
performance is revelatory as The Monster, and his portrayal is the most sympathetic
and humane of all of the other monsters to come out of the era. There’s a
reason Frankenstein got more sequels and spin-offs than his brethren,
even as the character would evolve (and devolve) in fits in starts. When you
say Frankenstein, it’s Karloff’s version you see in your mind.
(I do want to note we had two Universal horrors in our book though – The Black Cat may not have one of the more famous monsters in it, but its censorship history and the interplay between Karloff and Lugosi is absolutely wild!)
In Pre-Code Essentials, we learn that the darker impulses of Mr. Hyde are an “amalgamation of code violations, particularly regarding violence and sex.” Fredric March and Miriam Hopkins are pictured in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Question: You make the point that despite being
censored, some of the horror films have a lasting legacy and continue to
influence modern cinema, like “King Kong” and “Dr. Jekyll.” Can you talk about
the legacy of pre-Code horror?
Danny: First I wanted to say that I’m back in the U.S. this week and keep looking at theater listings and get excited when I see Frankenstein popping up. It looks like it’s only the new Guillermo Del Toro version, but it’s not uncommon to see a reimagining of the Universal monsters attempt to gather up some steam every decade or so. A lot of these films proved to have fertile ground that could be mined over and over again.
I always think of pre-Code as the films that really defined
what synchronized sound could do for a movie. Don’t get me wrong, there are
films like Nosferatu and Phantom of the Opera that
have some excellent chills, but nowadays we see them with certain soundtracks
and decisions made for home video. The filmmakers in 1930 got to make conscious
decisions about how they wanted to use noise or lack thereof to build tension.
This added dimension gave new atmospheres to film, and gave filmmakers
greater control over the audience’s imagination.
The movies of this time also clearly delineated a path for
elevated horror, where these pictures give social commentary and leave the
audience with sympathies they may not have expected to leave the theater with.
While they were being at the same time as dynamite social commentary films
like I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, these movies were no less
potent in trying to get their own points across, messages that would be
neutered by endless sequels and the Production Code’s enforcement in 1934. It
would take, in my opinion, decades for horror to recover.
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
Around these parts, the 11th month of the year is generally focused on a celebration of all things noir called “Noirvember,” a term that was coined by author Marya Gates back in 2010. And here in the U.S., November, of course, includes a commemoration of the 1621 harvest feast of Plymouth, Massachusetts – Thanksgiving! For this month’s Noir Nook column, I’m serving a mash-up of these two annual events by listing the top five things I’m thankful for in the world of film noir – so grab a plate and a tankard of your favorite beverage, and join me for this trip of shadowy gratitude (and watch your step . . . there are spoilers ahead!).
Barbara Stanwyck Eyes
Barbara Stanwyck, Double Indemnity
Everybody (or almost everybody) has heard
of Bette Davis eyes, but when it comes to film noir, Stanwyck’s eyes have it!
For evidence, I direct your attention to Double Indemnity (1944), which
stars Stanwyck as unhappy housewife Phyllis Dietrichson, who teams with
insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) to bump off Phyllis’s husband
and collect a cool $100,000 life insurance payout. In this feature (my favorite
noir, in case I hadn’t mentioned that once or two hundred times), Stanwyck’s
eyes are of particular note in the scene where Walter kills Mr. Dietrichson.
The actual murder is not on camera, but Phyllis’s face is – she’s behind the
wheel of her car and her hapless hubby is beside her, with Walter in the back.
As Walter does his deed, Phyllis’s eyes are positively mesmerizing – they’re
colder than frozen marbles, and just as hard; she’s completely unfazed by the
fact that her husband is becoming a member of the dearly departed just inches
away from her. In fact, judging by the very slight smile that curves her lips
when the deed is done, she’s rather pleased by the entire transaction. It’s a visage
that lasts only a few seconds, but it’s one you won’t soon forget.
Robert Walker in Strangers on a Train (1951)
Robert Walker and Farley Granger, Strangers on a Train
I recently revisited this Alfred
Hitchcock-directed gem and, as always, I was struck by the absolute brilliance
of Robert Walker’s performance. In the film, he plays Bruno Anthony, a charismatic
psychopath who proposes to tennis star Guy Haines (Farley Granger) that the two
team up for a “criss cross” crime – wherein each of them will kill someone that
the other would like to be rid of. Unfortunately, Guy realizes all too late
that Bruno wasn’t just whistlin’ Dixie when he pitched this scheme. While there’s
a lot to love about this film, Walker, for my money, is simply a revelation.
Prior to this film, he was probably best known for lightweight comedies like See
Here, Private Hargrove (1944), Her Highness and the Bellboy (1945),
or One Touch of Venus (1948), but – much like the transformation of Dick
Powell from 1930s crooner to 1940s noir tough guy – Walker is like a completely
different performer in Strangers. His Bruno is at once charming and
incredibly frightening, and Walker steals every single scene, whether he’s
chatting pleasantly over a meal on the train, entertaining party guests with
his thoughts on murder, or making his way through an amusement park, casually
bursting a child’s balloon with his cigarette – just because. Sadly, just two
months after the release of Strangers, Walker would be dead (under odd
and mysterious circumstances), but I’ll be forever grateful that he left us
this extraordinary performance to remember him by.
The Delicious Wickedness of Wicked Woman
Beverly Michaels, Richard Egan and Percy Helton, Wicked Woman
I don’t remember exactly when I discovered Wicked
Woman (1953), but I’m so thankful that I did; since my first viewing, this
film has become one of my noir favorites. It stars Beverly Michaels (who would
later marry the film’s director, Russell Rouse) as Billie Nash, a
self-preserving dame who sweeps into a small town at the film’s start and
causes all sorts of mayhem before moving on at the end. Her misdeeds include
having an affair with the beefy husband of her boss and using an unattractive
but besotted apartment house neighbor to secure everything from a pork chop
dinner to free tailoring services and loans that would never be repaid. The
film clocks in at an economical 77 minutes, and not one second is wasted; it’s a
shadowy treat, from the opening theme song, soulfully warbled by cinema’s
“Bronze Buckaroo,” Herb Jeffries; to Michaels’s all-white wardrobe and the indolent
way she saunters from place to place; to the uber-oily character played by the always-great
Percy Helton; to the violent and wholly unexpected climax that has to be seen
to be believed. It’s one of those noirs that you can see again and again and
never get enough.
Detour Dialogue
Tom Neal and Ann Savage, Detour
A low-budget jewel, Detour (1945) focuses
on piano player Al Roberts (Tom Neal), who hitchhikes across the country to
join his girlfriend, who has moved to Hollywood to seek fame and fortune.
Unfortunately for Al, he hitches a ride with a man who mysteriously winds up
dead, and when Al assumes the man’s identity, he picks up a hiker of his own –
Vera (Ann Savage) – who turns out to be his undoing. Vera is one of the
scariest dames in film noir (and outside of it, too, for that matter), but she
spits out some of the best lines around; she’s a sheer joy to behold. Here are
just a few of my favorites:
“I’m not gettin’ sore. But just remember
who’s boss around here. If you shut up and don’t give me any arguments, you’ll
have nothing to worry about. But if you act wise – well, mister, you’ll pop
into jail so fast it’ll give you the bends!”
“Not only don’t you have any scruples, you
don’t have any brains.”
“Life’s like a ball game. You gotta take a
swing at whatever comes along before you wake up and it’s the ninth inning.”
“We’re both alike. Both born in the same
gutter.”
The Ending of The Killing
Sterling Hayden and Coleen Gray, The Killing
Always on my lists of top-notch noirs, The
Killing presents a time-bending tale of a group of disparate criminals who
unite to knock off a racetrack. Ex-con Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden) is the
architect of the intricately fashioned scheme, but like the best-laid plans of
mice and men, it goes horribly wrong in the end. And speaking of the end, it’s the
last few minutes of The Killing that are among my (many) favorite things
about the movie. After the successful execution of the robbery, an unexpected
and deadly snafu results in Johnny winding up with the stolen money, stuffed
into a battered suitcase. When Johnny meets up with his loyal, long-suffering girlfriend
Fay (Coleen Gray) at the airport, with plans to fly to Boston, it looks like
it’s smooth sailing ahead – but these looks are sadly deceiving. Forced to
check his suitcase (instead of keeping it with him as he’d intended), Johnny watches
with impotent dread as his precariously stacked suitcase falls on the runway,
causing his hard-earned cash to fly through the air like so much confetti. He
tries to leave the airport, but two detectives are hot on his trail, and when Fay
urges him to run, Johnny yields to his fate with a brief, defeated rejoinder:
“Eh. What’s the difference?” (That’s noir for ya.)
What are some of the films, performances, characters, or
moments in film noir that you’re thankful for this season? Leave a comment and
share with the group!
And Happy Thanks-Noirvember-Giving!
…
– 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:
