So excited to announce The Third Annual It Came From Texas Film Festival đ
For fans that can make it to Garland Texas next week, get ready for a true big-screen treat! The Third Annual It Came From Texas Film Festival is taking center stage at the historic Plaza Theatre in Downtown Garland from September 12â14, 2025, and this yearâs lineup is more ‘Texas’ than ever.
Proudly sponsored by the City of Garland and Garland Cultural Arts, the festival celebrates True Texas Tales showcasing films made in the Lone Star State â plus special guests, experts, and even some comedy to keep things lively.
Whatâs Playing
This yearâs schedule brings together classic films, documentaries, and cult favorites â all with Texas ties:
Bonnie and Clyde (1967) â Friday night kicks off with Arthur Pennâs classic. Includes a discussion with Bonnie Parkerâs niece Rhea Leen Linder, Clyde Barrowâs nephew Buddy Barrow, and former FBI Analyst and Bonnie and Clyde expert Farris Rookstool III.
Secret Screening with Mocky Horror Picture Show â A Friday night surprise Larry Buchanan film with Live Comedy Riffing by Mocky Horror Picture Show.
Bernie (2011) â Saturday opens with Richard Linklaterâs dark comedy, starring Jack Black and Shirley MacLaine. Includes a conversation with Skip Hollandsworth, the Texas Monthly journalist whose article inspired the film, and actor Larry Jack Dotson.
JFK: Breaking the News (2003) â A fascinating documentary about how Dallas reporters covered the Kennedy assassination, introduced by Stephen Fagin from The Sixth Floor Museum. Panelists include Dr. Sean Griffin (SMU film historian) and Farris Rookstool III (also a JFK assassination expert).
The Great Debaters (2007) + The Real Great Debaters (2008) â A Saturday night double-feature – Denzel Washingtonâs stirring drama paired with the inspiring true documentary. Includes a discussion with filmmaker Brad Osborne and Wiley University coach Ernest Mack.
The Alamo (1960) â Sunday brings out the big guns with John Wayneâs sweeping epic. Includes a discussion with Wayne’s granddaughter Anita La Cava Swift and historian/author Jack Edmondson.
Viva Max! (1969) â Closing night gets a comedic twist with this zany satire starring Peter Ustinov and Jonathan Winters â proof that Texans know how to laugh at their own legends. đ
Guest Stars & Experts
Festival director Kelly Kitchens has once again gathered authors, historians, and even family members of legendary figures to help put these films in context. And film historian, Gordon K. Smith, returns to add his encyclopedic knowledge (and personal memories from working on 2004âs The Alamo) to the mix.
Tickets & Festival Perks
All-Access Festival Pass: $75 (limited availability)
Noir Nook: Stranger Than Fiction â Part 1 (Steve Cochran)
“Truth is
stranger than fiction,â Mark Twain once informed us, âbut it is because fiction
is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn’t.”
This monthâs
Noir Nook introduces a new series that looks actors and actresses who were
frequently seen in shadowy situations on the big screen, but who led off-screen
lives that would rival the plots of any one of their movies. For the first in
my series, Iâm shining the spotlight on actor Steve Cochran.
Steve Cochran
The tough-guy
actor with the dark good looks was born Robert Alexander Cochran in Eureka,
California, on May 25, 1917. He grew up in Wyoming; in high school, he was
involved in athletics like basketball and boxing, and demonstrated an interest
in cartooning and architecture. But after only a year at Wyoming University, he
dropped out to pursue an acting career, joining the Federal Theatre Project in
Detroit. He honed his craft during the next several years in a variety of stage
productions throughout the country and on several radio programs. He finally
got his big break in the mid-1940s, when his appearance in a New York Theatre
Guild production caught the attention of producer Sam Goldwyn, and he made his film
debut in a 1945 Danny Kaye starrer, The Wonder Man.
Cochran entered
the realm of film noir the following year, playing a smooth criminal in The
Chase (1946) and earning praise from critics for his âimpressive
performance.â Some of his other noir features include White Heat (1949),
where he was seen as the ill-fated rival of star James Cagney; The Damned
Donât Cry (1950), starring opposite Joan Crawford as an ambitious gang
leader; and Private Hell 36 (1954), where he was on the right side of
the law, but the wrong side of morality.
James Cagney and Steve Cochran, White Heat
The actorâs film
performances usually resulted in favorable reviews, but it was his life
off-screen that attracted the most publicity. On New Yearâs Day 1952, he became
involved in the first of many encounters with the law when he got into a fight with
a party guest, a former professional boxer named Lenwood Wright. During the
altercation, Cochran hit Wright over the head with a baseball bat; according to
the actor, the attack was in self-defense and no charges were filed, but Wright
later filed a civil suit against Cochran and was awarded $16,000 in damages.
(That amount was reduced the following month to $7,500 by a Superior Court
judge.)
Steve Cochran, Howard Duff and Ida Lupino, Private Hell 36
The following
year, Cochran was arrested for reckless driving and evading arrest after a five-mile
car chase with police. He pleaded guilty and paid a minor fine, telling
reporters that he âjust wanted to show my friends how my new sports car would
corner.â And in 1956, the actor reportedly became the first person to receive a
flying ticket issued by a police helicopter. Cochran â who had around 100 miles
of flying time behind him â received the citation after flying over his
mountaintop home in Studio City and rocking his wings. He was fined $500 and
grounded for 90 days. Then, in 1964, Cochran was back in the news in two
separate incidents â in the first, the actor was arrested on a civil court
order after a local disc jockey accused him of adultery. And a few months
later, singer Ronie Rae alleged that Cochran had beaten and gagged her. In the
latter case, Cochran confirmed that Rae was at his home to audition for a new
film he was producing, but stated that he restrained her with neckties because
she began âhurtling herself about.â It was determined that Rae was on drugs and
Cochran was cleared of all charges, with officials stating that Cochran âmay
have done [Rae] a great service by tying her up.â The charges in the first case
were dropped as well, after the disc jockey admitted that his sole evidence was
a thank-you note his wife had received from Cochran.
Steve Cochran, The Chase
But Cochranâs unusual
experiences werenât limited to court cases and run-ins with police. Between
acting assignments, heâd added boating to his repertoire of fast cars and
airplanes, usually without incident. But this uneventful stretch came to an end
in the late 1950s when his 35-foot ketch had to be hauled to safety by the U.S.
Coast Guart after the actor spent a scary night in the Catalina Channel,
bailing water from the boat. And in 1960, after running into heavy fog, his
yacht crashed into a Los Angeles breakwater, and he and others on the boat â a
19-year-old lady friend, two dogs, and a monkey â were forced to dive into the
water.
But the actorâs
strangest stranger-than-fiction episode was yet to come. The film that Ronie
Rae was auditioning for, called Captain OâFlynn, was based on the adventures of
a real-life ship captain named Lee Quinn, who sailed the Pacific with an
all-female crew. Before filming the movie, Cochran decided to recreate one of
Quinnâs voyages by hiring three Mexican women to accompany him on an eight-day
trip from Acapulco to Costa Rica. Sadly, the trip would be the final adventure
of Cochranâs life.
Three weeks
after Cochran and the three women set sail, the actorâs 40-foot yacht was towed
into a Guatemalan port â and Cochran was dead. It was later determined that Cochran
had been stricken with a paralyzing lung ailment called acute infection edema
and died 10 days after departing Acapulco. After his death, the women drifted
for nearly two weeks before being rescued.
Cochran was
just 49 years old.
Adventurous,
ambitious, and bold, Cochran was just beginning to explore new aspects of his
film career at the time of his untimely and shocking death â heâd started his
own production company in the early 1950s, and his initial outing as director, Tell
Me in the Sunlight, was completed shortly before he died. Given the actorâs
frequent encounters with the law, his boating misfortunes, and the manner in
which he perished, it can certainly be said that his life was stranger than
fiction.
Tune in next month for Part 2 of Stranger Than Fiction . . .
âŚ
â 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 â Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If youâre interested in learning more about Karenâs books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
Shane (1953), the classic Western directed by George Stevens, has just been released on 4K and Blu-ray by Kino Lorber Studio Classics.
Thanks to the Blu-ray I’ve revisited the movie for the first time since seeing it in 35mm at the Autry Museum of the American West back in 2011.
Regular viewers will know that I love some vaunted Western classics and am indifferent to a handful of others. For instance, I adore Rio Bravo (1959), which I wrote about here in 2021, but don’t especially care for High Noon (1952), as I wrote last year.
I’m firmly in the “thumbs up” category when it
comes to Shane. Director Stevens may have done relatively
little work in the Western genre, but he “gets” it, directing the
film with a Fordian beauty, in terms of both story and visuals. At the same
time, there’s a feeling of true authenticity to go along with the film’s moving
story and gorgeous setting, from the barroom brawl to the mud-caked streets to
the occasionally annoying little boy.
The plot, as many will already know, is fairly simple,
organized around the classic “ranchers vs. farmers” theme.
Joe and Marian Starrett (Van Heflin and Jean Arthur) are
raising their young son Joey (Brandon De Wilde) on their humble Wyoming
homestead.
Older rancher Rufus Ryker (an almost unrecognizable Emile
Meyer) wants his cattle to run free and resents the fences the Starretts and
other farmers have brought to the valley to protect their crops. An ugly range
war is gearing up, as Ryker intends to force out the settlers, and the
peaceable farmers may not be able to withstand the violence of Ryker and his
men.
One day a loner named Shane wanders into the valley and
impulsively helps the Starretts when they’re being pressured by Ryker and his
men. Shane befriends the Starretts and stays on to work for them; he is both a
savior and a source of conflict, as Joey idolizes Shane and a very subtle,
unspoken attraction grows between Shane and Marian.
Eventually Ryker summons a mean hired gun, Wilson (Jack
Palance, billed as Walter Jack Palance), to town, and matters come to a head.
As is so often the case with great movies, including the
aforementioned Rio Bravo, it’s a deceptively simple premise, but
it’s what the filmmakers do with the story which matters. Layered on top of
this basic plot are moments which make this film as rich as any great
art. Shane is 118 minutes of pure Western movie magic.
The film’s beauty begins with the score by Victor Young and
Loyal Griggs’ gorgeous location filming in Wyoming.
One of the back stories to the making of Shane I
particularly love is that, while he didn’t film there, Stevens’ overall design
of the film was inspired by my favorite town in the Eastern High Sierras,
Bridgeport, California. Film noir fans may recognize Bridgeport as the setting
director Jacques Tourneur chose for both Out of the Past (1947)
and Nightfall (1957).
In an interview Stevens described Bridgeport as “very
unlike other California towns” and went on to talk about how it impacted
his vision of Shane: “There was the funeral on the hilltop,
and there was the distance where the cattle grazed, and then there was the town
at the crossing, a western gown like other western towns were. There were the
great mountains that rose behind it. This was all arranged in one camera
view… That worked its way into the picture from an idea that came to me in
Bridgeport…”
Below is my photograph of Bridgeport, exactly as seen from the hilltop cemetery:
And here is a photograph of the meadow just beyond town, where the cattle from Hunewill Ranch are often seen grazing, with the mountains in the background:
I thought of these familiar scenes while revisiting Shane.
Stevens really captures the Western atmosphere as he described it.
The Shane cast is topped by Alan Ladd in
the title role, and while he may not have been the first choice — Stevens
initially considered Montgomery Clift — he’s absolutely perfect. As my late
friend Paddy once wrote, Ladd’s voice is “an amazing instrument,” and
it’s hard to imagine Shane sounding any other way than with Ladd’s unique,
low-pitched voice.
Contrary to his detractors, I also find Ladd an exciting
actor; is there a greater moment than Shane spinning his gun back into his
holster near the end, as the audience breathes a sigh of relief? I’d add I find
comments about Ladd’s short height annoying in the extreme; the character Shane
is all about attitude, and Ladd has it to spare. And going back to his breakout
role in This Gun for Hire (1942), Ladd also had a particular
ability to convey both lethality and loneliness, key attributes for Shane. He was
perfectly cast in every way.
Jean Arthur had worked with George Stevens on the classic comedy The More the Merrier (1943) a decade earlier. Although she’s strangely stuck with a “mop” hairstyle which doesn’t look like any other woman in the film, Arthur’s performance is excellent. Arthur was older than her costars, but her looks fit a woman who has been working hard on the frontier. Like Ladd, Arthur silently conveys a woman who has deep longings but is ever honorable. These fully rounded, conflicted yet ultimately honorable characters — whose feelings are often communicated without words — are a part of what makes Shane special.
Van Heflin likewise does a great deal with his part; Joe is
an ordinary guy but he’s determined to stand up for his right to work his land,
and he takes a leadership role with the other farmers. He’s different from
Shane, a settled and ostensibly less glamorous character, yet brave in his own
way. And once again Heflin as Joe doesn’t always need dialogue to express his
feelings.
There’s a well-remembered scene at a dance where Joe stands
behind a fence and his face registers the recognition there’s something brewing
between Shane and his wife; at the same time, as he later says, his wife is
“the most honest and finest girl that ever lived” and he knows she
would never act on this. And he’s practical enough to consider that if he
doesn’t survive the range war, it’s likely Shane would look out for his beloved
wife and son. The West wasn’t an easy place.
Shane’s relationship with the awestruck Joey, as he teaches
young Joey things he’ll need to know as he grows, brings to mind for me a
similar relationship between John Wayne and Lee Aaker in John Farrow’s Hondo (1953),
released the same year as Shane. People like to make fun of
“Come back, Shane!” but I’d suggest the very reason that scene is
still remembered and joked about, decades later, is exactly because it’s so
effective.
One of my favorite characters in the film is Chris, played
by an all-time favorite Western actor, Ben Johnson. Chris starts out as a bully
who faces off with Shane in an incredibly real-looking barroom
brawl. While Johnson’s part was sadly cut down from what was originally
planned, later in the film he wordlessly (there’s that term again!) conveys
Chris’s disgust and guilt when the hired gun Wilson shoots one of the settlers
(Elisha Cook Jr.). Johnson has a very nice final scene opposite Ladd, and I
enjoyed that payoff, even as I wished we’d seen a little more of his character
and his evolution.
Small roles are nicely played by a terrific cast which also
includes Ellen Corby, Douglas Spencer, Edgar Buchanan, John Dierkes, Paul
McVey, Nancy Kulp, and Beverly Washburn. Two of Ladd’s children, David and
Alana, have bit roles.
Shane was written by A.B. Guthrie Jr.,
with additional dialogue by Jack Sher, based on a novel by Jack Schaefer
Kino Lorber’s 4K and Blu-ray print is from a new HD master from a 4K scan of the original 35mm camera negative. The print is absolutely beautiful. I love seeing films in 35mm, but this Blu-ray far surpassed the 35mm print I saw the first time I viewed this movie.
For both the 4K and the Blu-ray, Shane is presented as a Special Edition with a cardboard slipcase. The disc includes the trailer; a gallery of nine additional trailers of other Westerns available from Kino Lorber; an archival commentary track by George Stevens Jr. and Ivan Moffatt; and a brand-new commentary track by Alan K. Rode. As I wrote here last month, Rode has a forthcoming book on the making of Shane which will be published in the Reel West series from the University of New Mexico Press.
Both Shane and Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray (or
4K, for those who have a player) are highly recommended.
Thanks to Kino Lorber for providing a review copy of this Blu-ray.
The photographs of Bridgeport are from the author’s personal collection.
âŚ
â Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
Laura can be found at her blog, Lauraâs Miscellaneous Musings, where sheâs 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 âWestern RoundUpâ for CMH.
June Marlowe was born Gisela Valaria Goetten to Hedwig and John
Goetten on November 6, 1903, in St. Cloud, Minnesota. She and her
siblingsâArmor E. Goetten, Louis Marlowe, Alona Marlowe, and Gerald Goettenâall
eventually realized careers in the film industry.
Marlowe was of
German descent and could speak the language fluently. She loved
animalsâparticularly horses. Her father owned a meat market in St. Cloud. As a
child, Marlowe was a student at St. Maryâs Parochial School and Tech High
School. The family often enjoyed winters by ice skating on Lake George and
summering on Spunk Lake in Minnesota.
In 1920, her family moved to Los Angeles, California. There, she
attended Hollywood High School, where she was discovered while performing in a
school play, Director Malcolm St. Clair found her an agent and arranged for her
screen debut in Fighting Blood
(1923). In the following years, she appeared in Find Your Man (1924), Tracked
in the Snow Country (1925), Below the
Line (1925), The Clash of the Wolves (1925),
The Night Cry (1926) starring beloved
German Shepherd icon Rin Tin Tin, among additional film roles.
Rin Tin Tin and June Marlowe
By 1926, she was a contract player for Warner Brothers. She became
one of the Western Association of Motion Picture Advertisers (WAMPAS) Baby
Stars in 1925 and soon worked for Universal Studios. At Universal, she appeared
in Fangs of Justice (1926), starring
Silver Streakâoften billed as Silver Streak King of Dog Stars, Dog of Wonder,
or The Wonder DogâUniversalâs answer to rival Warner Bros.â Rin Tin Tin. She
also performed in Wild Beauty (1927)
starring Rexâa horse billed similarly to Silver Streak as Rex the Wonder Horse
or King of the Wild Horses.
Marlowe also had the distinction of appearing in Don Juan (1926), the first synchronized
sound film. The film starred John Barrymore and used the Vitaphone
sound-on-disc sound system in conjunction with a synchronized musical score and
sound effects, though not featuring spoken dialogue.
As sound entered into films, Marloweâs career was faltering and
she was considering leaving the industry. However, a chance encounter with
director Robert McGowan in a Los Angeles department store gave her career a
boost. McGowan was seeking an actress to play the part of a teacher in the Our Gang childrenâs comedies. Marlowe
was considered for the role and producer Hal Roach suggested that she wear a
blonde wig to the color of the showâs lead child actor, Jackie Cooper. She was
ultimately cast as Miss Crabtree in the series.
Marlowe appeared in several Our
Gang shorts including Teacherâs Pet
(1930), Schoolâs Out (1930), Love Business (1931), and Little Daddy (1931). She also performed
in Pardon Us (1931), starring Stan
Laurel and Oliver Hardyâanother Roach production.
June Marlowe, Our Gang
In 1933, Marlowe married businessman Rodney Sprigg. She retired from acting to be a housewife and
was happy to be remembered for her role as Miss Crabtree. She and Sprigg
traveled extensively and she visited St. Cloud often. They remained married
until his passing in 1982.
Marlowe consistently refused offers from Roach to return as Miss
Crabtree. The rights to Our Gang were
sold to MGM in 1938 and the series was discontinued in 1944. However, the
series experienced a renewal through syndication on television, billed as The Little Rascals. This revival in
interest led to a publisher commissioning Marlowe to write childrenâs books.
She completed two booksâBeezy and Furryâbefore issues with Parkinsonâs
disease prevented her from completing the full series.
Marlowe passed away due to complications from Parkinsonâs disease
on March 10, 1984, in Burbank, California. She was 80 years old. Initially, she
was buried at San Fernando Mission Cemetery and she later shared the same
headstone with her brother, Louis, who passed away in 1991. However, in 2002,
they were moved to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels Mausoleum in Los
Angeles, where her parents and siblings are interred.
Presently, some of Marloweâs homes exist. In 1910, her family
resided at 217 10th Ave. N., St. Cloud, Minnesota. This home stands
today.
217 10th Ave. N., St. Cloud, Minnesota
In 1920, the family lived at 2715 Bryant Ave. S., Minneapolis,
Minnesota, which also stands.
2715 Bryant Ave. S., Minneapolis, Minnesota
By 1929, the family moved to 1935 Rodney Dr., Los Angeles,
California. This home has since been razed.
In 1940, she lived with Sprigg and two of his four sons from a
previous marriage at 1629 Cosmo St., Los Angeles, California, which stands.
1629 Cosmo St., Los Angeles, California
In 1945, she and Sprigg lived at 2044 1st Ave., San
Diego, California, with Rodney. This home no longer stands.
Marlowe is connected to an additional tribute: In the show The Simpsons, the schoolteacher character was named Edna Krabappel. The character’s name takes creative liberty with the word âcrabapple,â in reference to the Miss Crabtree character.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywoodâs Golden Age. She manages the âHometowns to Hollywoodâ 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.
Silver Screen Standards: Fifty Years of Jaws (1975)
Some
people watch fireworks every year on the Fourth of July, but I watch Jaws
(1975). Steven Spielbergâs iconic adaptation of the novel by Peter Benchley has
long been a favorite of mine, so much so that I wrote a model essay about the
use of music in Jaws for my students back in 1995, when I was a teaching
assistant just starting my PhD program in English Literature. My love for the
film hasnât dimmed over the decades, and 2025 is an especially good time to
revisit Jaws as it celebrates fifty years since its original theatrical
release. Not everyone shares my enthusiasm for the movie, I know, especially
with Jaws sometimes taking the blame for the endless onslaught of empty-headed
summer hits we endure today, but despite its box office success the original summer
blockbuster is no soulless cash grab. Jaws is, in fact, a cinematic
masterpiece, a true classic where every shot, note, and character work in
service to a story that functions as modern mythology.
Chief Brody (Roy Scheider) wants to close the beaches, but the mayor (Murray Hamilton) refuses to believe the danger is worth the loss of income.
Roy
Scheider stars as Amity Islandâs Police Chief Martin Brody, a newcomer in the
small seaside community along with his wife, Ellen (Lorraine Gary), and their
two young sons. A loving father and conscientious safety officer, Brody tries
to take action as soon as the sharkâs first victim is discovered, but the
townâs leaders value their summer profits more than public welfare, and they
insist that the beaches remain open for the Fourth of July weekend. More
gruesome deaths follow, and Brody is eventually able to bring in scientific
expert Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) and hire local shark hunter Quint (Robert
Shaw). The three men venture out on Quintâs boat, the Orca, to hunt down
the massive great white, whose strength and ferocity become apparent as it
attempts to destroy the men and their vessel.
Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) is the youngest of the three protagonists and a voice for science and reason in his approach to sharks.
One
element that sets Jaws above modern blockbusters is its commitment to
character. Each of our three main characters is both a very specific individual
and also an archetype representing one stage in a manâs life. Hooper, with the
blond curls and short stature of a young Richard Dreyfuss, is barely out of
boyhood in spite of his scientific knowledge, and he possesses all the
enthusiasm and energy of youth. Brody embodies the traits of the father, and we
see his paternal devotion in multiple scenes with his sons, not only in moments
of peril but also at home. Although Robert Shaw was only five years older than
Scheider, and not yet fifty when he made the film, his character, Quint, still
fills the role of the grizzled elder, a man who has seen much and been scarred
(literally and figuratively) by his experiences. Youth and age inevitably
clash, with Hooper and Quint constantly in conflict until their scar contest
reveals Quintâs history as a survivor of the USS Indianapolis. Each man brings
his own values and worldview to the mission: Hooper wants knowledge, Brody
wants safety, and Quint wants revenge. Together they form a mythic trinity â
not exactly Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, perhaps, but something like it, a
masculine version of the maiden/mother/crone figures so familiar in legends and
literature.
Quint (Robert Shaw) is a seasoned shark hunter who doubts the abilities of his companions and their chances for success against the great white.
Jaws also succeeds in giving us
memorable antagonists with their own symbolic resonance. We have the titular
shark, of course, a sublime creature in the Romantic sense, inspiring terror
and awe in all who see it. The movie unfortunately made sharks widely hated by
a fearful public, but the great white of the film is no more representative of
real sharks than Hannibal Lecter is of normal human beings. The killer shark is
Moby Dick to Quintâs Ahab. It is death and fate incarnate, the ultimate
embodiment of âNature red in tooth and claw.â The title of the film reduces the
beast to its most basic element â the insatiable, all-devouring jaws of death. The
shark is a monster, to be sure, but so is Mayor Larry Vaughn (Murray Hamilton),
and the banal evil of the mayor is really the more frightening of the two
because people like him exist everywhere. The mayor and his fellow town leaders
deny, deflect, and defend to protect their own financial interests in spite of
the danger the shark poses to both locals and tourists. They try to cover up
the deaths of the first victims, they prevent Brody from closing the beaches, and
the mayor even pushes one of his cronies to take his whole family into the
water. Vaughnâs disregard for innocent lives in the pursuit of profit makes him
the ultimate capitalist and politician. We long to see him be eaten by the
shark, but of course Vaughn never goes into the water himself, and he retains
his power to undermine public safety again in the sequel, Jaws 2 (1978).
Brody gets his first closeup view of the shark and concludes that they need a bigger boat.
As I
mentioned earlier, the music of Jaws has always been one of my favorite
elements of the film. The cinematography, locations, editing, and sound all
contribute to the movieâs power, but if you mention Jaws to almost
anyone, youâre likely to get a rendition of that iconic, menacing theme music.
The sharkâs theme has become a popular musical symbol for impending doom, and
it, along with the rest of his brilliant work for the picture, earned John
Williams an Academy Award for Best Original Score, a Grammy Award, a BAFTA, and
a Golden Globe. Unfortunately, the filmâs characters canât hear the ominous
notes that warn the audience of the sharkâs approach, but they have their own
diegetic music to communicate their perspectives. The most significant diegetic
music in the film is Quintâs repeated use of the âYankee Whalermanâ variant of
a traditional sea shanty called âSpanish Ladies.â Quint sings the tune as his
own prediction of death and disaster, especially where Hooper is concerned,
which is why it matters when Hooper gets Quint to give up the dirge in favor of
the more cheerful and companionable drinking song, âShow Me the Way to Go Home.â
When the three men share the song, they bond over communal experience, but the
songs also contrast Quintâs fatalism with Hooper and Brodyâs strong desire to
return to the safety of their homes. For me personally, that scene holds
special meaning because my grandfather, like Quint, survived being thrown into
the Pacific Ocean when his ship, the USS Franklin, was hit by a Japanese
dive bomber on March 19, 1945. When I hear Quintâs story and the men singing
together, I think of the long, terrifying hours my grandfather spent in the
water, surrounding by the wounded and the dead and wondering if he would ever
see his own home again, and I think of his shipmates, 807 in all, who did not
survive that day. Eighty years after the sinking of the Indianapolis on
July 30, 1945, this scene helps to keep its story, and the untold stories of
thousands of men like my grandfather, alive for generations of viewers who were
born long after the end of World War II.
Quint, Brody, and Hooper realize that this shark is unlike any theyâve encountered before.
The box office success of the original Jaws led to a series of sequels, but only Jaws 2 (1978) brings Roy Scheider back as Chief Brody, along with Murray Hamilton and Lorraine Gary. Itâs not a bad horror movie, but itâs really a teen slasher story with the shark in place of the masked killer. Roy Scheider was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for The French Connection (1971), but you can also see him in Klute (1971), Marathon Man (1976), Sorcerer (1977), and All That Jazz (1979). Robert Shaw, a trained Shakespearean stage actor and successful writer, earned his own Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of Henry VIII in A Man for All Seasons (1966); he also had memorable roles in From Russia with Love (1963) and Robin and Marian (1976), but I am weirdly fond of his 1976 flop, Swashbuckler. For more thoughtful creature features, see Spielbergâs 1993 blockbuster hit, Jurassic Park, or the excellent 2017 King Kong reboot, Kong: Skull Island. For a humorous take on the genre, check out Tremors (1990), but if youâre looking for more monster sharks, youâll find them in Deep Blue Sea (1999).
In 1914, most films ranged from one to three
reels longâhalf an hour or less. But as filmmakers were growing more confident
about telling longer, more complex stories, the occasional hour-long film was
released. Arguably, it was Italy that really got the ball rolling on features
that were both lengthy (even crossing the two hour mark) and epic in scale. And
in 1914, no film was longer or more epic than the twelve-reel Cabiria (1914), filmed in Turin and set
during the Punic Wars of the 3rd century BC.
The film was masterminded by director Giovanni
Pastrone, a name thatâs rarely heard nowadays even when Cabiria is being discussed. Pastrone grew up with a passion for
music (he even handmade his own instruments), and balanced his artistic side by
studying accounting. He was clearly attracted to grand, epic stories from
history. When he was put in charge of the newly-formed Itala Film Company, he
was soon making ambitious shorts like Henry
the Third (1909), Julius Caesar (1909)
and The Fall of Troy (1911). Likely
inspired by lengthy films such as Milano Filmsâ LâInferno (1911) and Enrico Guazzoniâs Quo Vadis (1913), he apparently decided he was going to outdo them
all.
Giovanni Pastrone
Pastrone largely drew upon Emilio Salgari’s
1908 novel Carthage in Flames and
Gustave Flaubert’s 1862 novel SalammbĂ´.
He also convinced famed Italian author Gabriele DâAnnunzio to collaborate with
him, having him rewrite the title cards and name the characters (which included
âCabiriaâ herself). Having DâAnnunzioâs name attached to the film gave it extra
gravitas, although it did result in Patroneâs own name being overshadowedâas it
tends to be to this very day.
Told in five parts (or âepisodesâ), Cabiria follows a wealthy Roman family
whose home in Sicily is destroyed during the eruption of Mount Etna. They mourn
the apparent loss of their little daughter, Cabiria, not knowing that she
escaped with some of the familyâs servants. Cabiria is captured by Phoenician
pirates who sell her as a slave in Carthage, and she narrowly escapes becoming
a human sacrifice during a pagan ritual to the god Moloch. Ten years pass,
during which we see recreations of such famed historical events as Hannibal
crossing the Alps and the siege of Syracuse, when Archimedesâ âheat rayâ
mirrors were used to set Roman ships on fire. (A title card states: âA device,
never before seen is suddenly, divinely revealedâŚâ)
The film is practically stuffed with
characters, from Roman spies to slaves to Hasdrubal the brother of Hannibal,
but fortunately the character of Cabiria gives the film a unifying thread.
Pastrone made his film as grand as he could, especially considering the
limitations of film technology at the time. His smooth, stately tracking shots
helped popularize moving camera techniques, and other effects included the
careful use of miniatures. Crowds of extras were enlisted and a number of
people also did their own stunts. Scenes at seaside cliffs, mountains and
deserts added grandeur and authenticity.
And of course, befitting its status as an
epic, there were some impressive large-scale sets. In the filmâs most famous
sequence, the young Cabiria is sold to the high priest Karthalo and brought to
the Temple of Moloch. The enormous temple set, with its entrance shaped like
the three-eyed, bull-headed godâs massive open mouth, is still astonishing
today. Scenes showing the bronze statue of Moloch, with its chest that yawns
open so child sacrifices can be slid into its interior furnace, are among the
most iconic in early film.
Cabiria premiered in grand style at the Teatro Vittorio Emmanuele in Turin,
accompanied by an 80-piece orchestra and a choir of 70 (a special score had
been written by Ildebrando Pizzetti). In Rome, airplanes dropped flyers on the
city to hail its coming. It would end up being a worldwide hit, often playing
for weeks in theaters in a time when many films were shown for a day or two.
Critics were in aweâan article in Motion
Picture News said: âThe picture well-nigh beggars description. Words are
feeble in their capacity to convey the impressions created by the series of
stupendous spectacles which are here welded together into one gigantic
photodrama by the shrewdest craftsmen of Italy’s motion picture world.â A
writer for Moving Picture World was
equally effusive: âSumming up it may well be said that Cabiria ranks in the very first flight of the masterpieces of
kinematographic art. Nor must I omit a tribute to Italy, the country which has
given us all our greatest classics in films.â
Cabiria would influence countless âspectacularsâ that followed it, most notably
Intolerance (1916) with its grand
scenes set in ancient Babylon. Today it survives in good condition, easy to
find and watch on our 21st century devices. The acting seems far more stilted
than it was in 1914, and the archetypical characters seem more remote. But thereâs
still elegance in its cinematography and art direction and the stunts are
timelessly impressive. Watching it today, I quickly understand what Roger Ebert
meant when he wrote: âThe movie feels old, and by that I mean older than 1914.
It feels like a view of ancient times, or at least of those times as imagined a
century ago. We are looking into two levels of a time machine.â
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.
âAmelia jerked back, pulling up her legs. A shadowy form was scurrying across the carpet toward the bed. She gaped at it. It isnât true, she thought. She stiffened at the tugging on her bedspread. It was climbing up to get her. No, she thought; it isnât true. She couldnât move. She stared at the edge of the mattress. Something that looked like a tiny head appeared.â — Richard Matheson’s Prey
Freaked out? Of course you are. You might even have unintentionally lifted your feet off the ground like I did reading that passage from Richard Mathesonâs short story Prey.
If you find them scary on the page, wait until you see them brought to life in Trilogy of Terror, a made-for TV movie that aired in 1975 as part of the Movie of the Week series.
The three-part anthology remains one of the scariest TV horror films ever made with one of the most terrifying creatures in any film â the disturbing Zuni fetish doll that people continue to talk about today.
The face of nightmares: the Zuni fetish doll from Trilogy of Terror.
My sister first saw the film as a kid, yet she still brings up the creepy âdollâ and how it scared her. (Heck, it freaked me out for years before I even saw the movie.)
Just look at him. With two rows of sharp teeth, wild black hair and a contorted face, the diminutive doll is the stuff of nightmares as actress Karen Black learned in the last short in the anthology. It comes with the very pretty name of Amelia but don’t let that fool you – there’s nothing pleasing about this episode. (The three parts are named for women, and Black plays all four females – one story has two sisters – with a unique blend of innocence, shyness, sexiness, confidence and terror.
Trilogy of Terror was directed by Dan Curtis (Dark
Shadows) and clocks in at a taut 72 minutes total for the three shorts.
William F. Nolan adapted the first two Matheson stories for the
film.
Julie was based on The Likeness of Julie from Mathesonâs 1962 anthology Alone at Night.
Millicent and Therese was based on Mathesonâs Needle in the Heart, first published in Ellery Queenâs Mystery Magazine (October 1969).
Matheson adapted Amelia from his short story Prey
which first appeared in a 1969 issue of Playboy magazine.
In the first episode of Trilogy of Terror, Karen Black plays Julie, a timid professor tormented by a student.
The stories deal with surprisingly risquĂŠ plots especially for the times. In Julie, a college student (played by Blackâs real-life husband Robert Burton) takes his literature professor out, drugs and rapes her, then blackmails her. Yes, it’s very uncomfortable and even unnecessary. They didn’t need to go so far for the film’s dramatic and sinister turn to work. Look for a fresh-faced Gregory Harrison at the end.
Millicent and Therese are two very different sisters â one prim, one lewd â whose diverse personalities cause violent conflicts. Black has a heyday with the two personalities. Look for handsome, young John Karlen (Dark Shadows, Cagney & Lacey) and a very serious George Gaynes (Tootsie, Police Academy films) in this story.
Then thereâs Amelia, a woman who is trying to break
free of her controlling mother.
While the first two short films are interesting and have a
twist (Julie has a killer of one), Amelia is unforgettable.
* * * * *
Amelia arrives home to her high-rise sublet apartment with a long brown box wrapped with twine. If it wasnât such a dingy color, it almost looks like a flower box. She smiles as she opens it despite unveiling a creepy statue-like figure with a spear. It has a cryptic scroll that explains how âHe Who Killsâ (great name) has an evil spirit trapped inside it by a tiny golden chain. (Donât let that chain come off â or else!)
A scroll explains the history behind “He Who Kills,” a Zuni fetish doll that has an evil spirit trapped inside.
âBoy, are you ugly ⌠Even your mother wouldnât love you,â Amelia says to the doll. Those words will tug at the viewer a few minutes later during a phone call with her mother when we understand her own mother issues.
The Zuni fetish doll is a birthday present sure to please her new boyfriend, an anthropology professor. But first she calls her overbearing mother to say she canât make their weekly Friday get together because of his birthday. Although we only hear one side of the conversation, itâs clear that mom is not happy.
Mother, we see each other 2-3 times a week.
Mother, Iâm not sick.
Mother, thereâs a man.
Mother, Iâm not being cruel.
Mother, please stop treating me like a child!
A tiny chain wrapped around the warrior’s body is all that keeps evil from getting loose.
In just a few minutes, Amelia is unraveling and moved to tears. But thatâs not enough for her mother, who hangs up on her. A dejected Amelia sets the doll on a coffee table to bathe.
Returning fresh in a white robe and bare feet, she looks especially vulnerable and notices the doll is gone.
âWhat âcha do, fall off the table?â she asks looking around,
then sees the chain on the table. This is where I would have been running from
the room, but she is weirdly calm.
âCome out, come out wherever you are,â she says â and darn
if it doesnât listen as we hear the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps scurrying
about. Instead of leaving, she slowly walks through an increasingly dark
apartment talking to herself.
Fresh from her bath, Amelia (Karen Black) isn’t dressed properly to be trapped by a killer doll.
âDonât get spooky on me Amelia,â she says.
âCâmon Amelia.â
Even when a light goes out, she doesnât panic â until the
first slash of her leg. Then she shrieks in excruciating pain from the tiny
spear hacking at her ankles.
This is where all hell breaks loose.
For the next 10 minutes, there will be ear-piercing screams
(from her) and terrifying garbled sounds (from it). The attacks are relentless
and vicious, filmed at a chaotic pace with frenzied editing. We canât quite see
everything that is happening because of the blurry images, but the ungodly
sounds are unsettling enough.
Amelia (played by Karen Black) suffers relentless attacks by a spirited Zuni fetish warrior doll that was meant as a gift for her boyfriend.
The attacks move to different rooms as Amelia runs into her
bedroom, then bathroom and closet but that little menace has a way of slashing
under the door with a large knife, getting past locked doors and cutting its
way even through a suitcase.
Itâs one of the most terrifying â and exhausting – sequences Iâve ever watched and it goes right up to the final seconds with a nightmarish ending that will stick with you.
Attacks by tiny things have always freaked me out (like in the 1936 film The Devil-Doll). You can see the big monsters coming, but not the littles. The next time you feel a weird sensation around your ankles, you should probably look down.
Trilogy of Terror may have turned 50 in 2025, but it hasnât lost its bite.
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
Western RoundUp: Western Film Book Library â Part 9
Once or twice a year I share a roundup of books on the Western movie genre here, most recently in November 2024.
This month’s book column was prompted in part by some
wonderful discoveries I made during recent travels.
A June road trip took us briefly through Lone Pine,
California, where we made a stop at the giftshop in the Museum of Western Film
History. Later in the month I visited my favorite used bookshop, Smith Family
Bookstore, while visiting family in Eugene, Oregon.
I’ll start with one of my finds in the Lone Pine gift shop, The Art of the Classic Western Movie Poster!, edited by Ed Hulse. It has a forward by Jay Dee Witney, son of the late Western director William Witney.
What was rather amazing was that just a few weeks ago I
reviewed Ed’s new book The Art of Classic Crime and Mystery Movies at
my personal blog, yet at that time I didn’t notice the same author
had also published a book on Western poster art just last year. Both books are
from Schiffer Publishing and are heavy hardbacks clocking in at 320 pages.
As seen in these photos, the glossy pages feature many
beautiful posters from Westerns of all types, including silents, series, and
spaghetti Westerns. Hulse provides insightful commentary; he’s a Western film
expert I’ve heard speak at the Lone Pine Film Festival numerous times over the
years, and he knows his subject matter inside and out.
Another book I discovered in the Lone Pine museum shop
was Cowboys, Creatures, and Classics: The Story of Republic Pictures by
Chris Enss and Howard Kazanjian. It was published by Lyons Press in 2018. It
has 252 heavy, glossy pages.
Cowboys, Creatures, and Classics covers
all aspects of Republic’s history, including chapters on topics such as
stuntmen and leading ladies. No one familiar with my columns will be surprised
that my favorite chapter was titled “The Second Hollywood,” about
movies Republic filmed in Lone Pine, California.
The book contains many beautiful photographs, including one
I’d never before seen from one of my all-time favorite films, Angel and
the Badman (1947). I’m sharing the photo below as an example of the
quality of the book’s beautiful illustrations.
This is a good place to mention another book on Republic which is in my collection, Republic Studios: Between Poverty Row and the Majors by Richard Maurice Hurst. It’s a 262-page book published by The Scarecrow Press in 1979.
This book was first purchased by my late father; he later passed it on to me for my reference library with a note which says, in part, “Well done with lots of original research – reading 1st chapter is worthwhile.” That chapter is “The Rise and Fall of Republic: An Historical Overview,” which details the studio history over 34 pages of fairly small print.
In addition to its overview of the studio, the book contains useful appendices with listings of things like all the titles in the Three Mesquiteers series and Republic’s serials, many of which were Westerns. There are no photos, but those interested in the studio will appreciate the history packed in this little book’s pages.
One of the books I found last month in Oregon was a unique
history rather similar to the Republic Studios title: The
Vanishing Legion: A History of Mascot Pictures 1927-1935 by Jon Tuska.
It was published by McFarland in hardback in 1982 and was later reprinted in
softcover.
This book has a couple nice inserts of glossy photos included in its 2015 pages. A sample is below.
I haven’t had time to read The Vanishing Legion yet, but it looks very interesting, as many of Mascot’s films were Westerns, with stars including Tom Mix and a young John Wayne. The author was able to interview many Western stars and filmmakers over the years, and the book contains insights from those interviews. I anticipate learning a great deal about this lesser-known, relatively short-lived company.
Another book found in Eugene was The Versatiles: Supporting Character Players in the Cinema 1930-1955, by Alfred E. Twomey and Arthur F. McClure. McClure also cowrote Heroes, Heavies and Sagebrush, which I shared here in May 2023.
The Versatiles was published by
Castle Books in 1969. It’s 304 pages, with many well-reproduced photos printed
directly on the book’s pages.
I’m always happy when I can find older film books such as
this one; sometimes they’re missing information because in those pre-Internet,
pre-home video days the authors didn’t have ready access to the films or all
the relevant information.
That said, as with The Vanishing Legion,
authors of older books were sometimes able to interview their subjects or had
other advantages writing in closer proximity to when movies were originally
released. Sharp-eyed readers will notice that many actors’ death dates are
missing from this book, given that it was published in the ’60s!
The book contains brief biographical sketches, selected
credits, and photos for a great many actors. As one might imagine, many of the
actors in this book appeared in Westerns, and I find books such as this can be
very helpful “putting names with faces.”
I’m including a sample below of a page with Western
character actor Fuzzy Knight.
Used editions of the older books mentioned above can
sometimes be found online for reasonable prices.
In closing I want to mention some forthcoming books from the University of New Mexico Press. I reviewed that publisher’s Reel West books on Blood on the Moon, written by Alan Rode, and Ride Lonesome, by Kirk Ellis, here in May 2023.
Rode has an upcoming Reel West book on Shane,
for which the publication date has not yet been announced. In the meantime,
coming in October 2025 are books on The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,
written by Chris Yogerst, and Broken Arrow, authored by Angela
Aleiss. I’m looking forward to reading them!
Laura can be found at her blog, Lauraâs Miscellaneous Musings, where sheâs 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 âWestern RoundUpâ for CMH.
If youâre familiar with Cathy OâDonnell, with her sweet
smile and gentle demeanor, you may associate her with her first speaking role,
Wilma Cameron in The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). In this post-WWII
classic, OâDonnell played the loyal and loving girlfriend of a veteran whoâd
lost both hands in combat. Or you may remember her as Tirzah in her last film, Ben-Hur
(1959), where her character is healed of leprosy during the crucifixion of
Christ.
But for me, OâDonnell falls into that category of Unlikely
Ladies of Noir â those actresses whose feet youâd never expect to see firmly
planted in the world of noir . . . but they are. This monthâs Noir Nook takes a look at
OâDonnellâs life and her features from the noir era.
OâDonnell was born Ann Steely on July 6, 1925, in Siluria,
Alabama (which is no longer a town, but a neighborhood in Shelby County). As a student
at Oklahoma State University, she was bitten by the acting bug, appeared in
several productions, and later got a job as a stenographer, saving up enough funds
to finance a trip to Hollywood. (âI only had enough money to last for a couple
of weeks,â she recalled. âIf I didnât break into the movie business by then, I
was going to have to go back home to Oklahoma City.â)
Luckily, shortly after her arrival in Tinsel town, while sitting at the counter at Schwabâs Drug Store, she was discovered by an agent who introduced her to producer Sam Goldwyn. After a screen test (which Goldwyn reported did even view), the future actress secured a contract and a name change, and began work with a coach to lower her voice and lose her Southern accent. Goldwyn gave her a part as an extra in a 1945 Danny Kaye vehicle, Wonder Man (1945), and she also appeared in a few stage roles â in one of them, Life With Father, she was spotted by directed William Wyler, who cast her in her credited screen debut, The Best Years of Our Lives. And just a few years later, OâDonnell entered the realm of shadows with a starring role in her first film noir.
…..
They Live By Night (1948)
Cathy O’Donnell and Farley Granger, They Live by Night
In this Nicholas Ray feature â which is one of my favorites
from the era â OâDonnell played Keechie Mobley, whose uncle Chickamaw (Howard
da Silva) has recently busted out of prison with two fellow inmates, T-Dub (Jay
C. Flippen) and Arthur âBowieâ Bowers (Farley Granger). When the trio hides out
at the home of Keechie and her father, she finds herself falling for Bowie, who
isnât a hardened criminal like his comrades. But when Bowie and Keechie get
married and find themselves on the lam from the law, she discovers that she
might not wind up with the rosy future she dreams of.
OâDonnell turns in a touching, unforgettable performance
here, bringing to life a character with a tough and cynical exterior, but whoâs
equally loving, loyal, and sentimental beneath. She and co-star Granger were
praised by critics, but the film was shelved for nearly a year by RKO Studio
head Howard Hughes and by the time it was finally released, according to
Granger, âthe bloom was off the rose . . . no one at RKO really understood it.â
…..
Side Street (1950)
Cathy O’Donnell and Farley Granger, Side Street
OâDonnell and Farley Granger were re-teamed the following
year in Side Street, where they played Joe and Ellen Norson, newlyweds whose
shaky finances are further strained due to the fact that they have a baby on
the way. The coupleâs ends are barely meeting with Joeâs part-time letter
carrier job, but things appear to be looking up when Joe âborrowsâ a folder from
an attorneyâs office that he thinks contains $300. Unfortunately, the amount in
the pilfered folder is actually $30,000 and Joeâs in a whole lot more trouble
than he knows.
In this feature, which was helmed by Anthony Mann, OâDonnell was a sweet, loving, and understanding wife, but in the vast scheme of things, she really didnât have much to do. She was singled out by a few critics, though, including one who labeled her as âpoignantly moving.â
…..
Detective Story (1951)
James Maloney, William Bendix, Cathy O’Donnell and Craig Hill, Detective Story
OâDonnellâs final noir, Detective Story, was based on
a 1949 play by Sidney Kingsley and set almost exclusively in a New York
precinct. The story revolves around highly principled, thoroughly inflexible
detective James McLeod (Kirk Douglas) and the variety of criminals, would-be
criminals, families, and friends who pass through the precinct station on a
single day. These include a pickpocket experiencing her first arrest (Lee
Grant), an unscrupulous abortionist (George Macready), and Arthur Kindred
(Craig Hill), a young man accused of embezzling funds in an effort to impress a
high-priced model. OâDonnell plays the modelâs younger sister, whoâs secretly
in love with Arthur and is determined to ensure his release â even dipping into
her own savings and pawning personal items to pay back his employer.
The critic for the L.A. Times praised OâDonnellâs
performance, writing that the actress âinvest[ed] her role with simple and
genuine feeling,â and she was singled out as ânotableâ in the New York Daily
News. Her role wasnât a showy one, but her devotion and quiet determination
were memorable.
—-
Sadly, the career of OâDonnell â who was married to producer
Robert Wyler (director William Wylerâs older brother), was cut short when she
fell ill in the mid-1960s and she died of cancer in 1970. She was only 46 years
old, but she left behind an impressive body of work, and all three of her noirs
are more than worth your time.
Treat yourself and check âem out!
âŚ
â 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 â Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If youâre interested in learning more about Karenâs books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
Exploring Douglas Fairbanks FilmsâWhere To Begin?
Although he was a major celebrity of the
silent eraâand weâre talking âMajorâ with a capital âMâ–Douglas Fairbanks
tends to be more overlooked than his contemporaries Charlie Chaplin and Mary
Pickford. If youâre curious enough to comb through the filmography of this
energetic, all-American star (and you should!) you might be surprised by how
much there is to choose from, especially circa 1915 to 1920.
âDougâ in a still for His Majesty, the American (1919).
Wondering where to begin? Everyone will find something unique about Doug to appreciate, of course, but hereâs a few of my own suggestions.
…..
7. Manhattan Madness (1916)
Doug was a stage star before bounding into the
movies, bringing his ready grin and enthusiasm for physical stunts to the big
screen. 1916 was his second year of being in films, and heâd been paying close
attention to what his audiences enjoyed and what they didnât. The farce Manhattan Madness (1916) was probably
the first âidealâ Fairbanks feature. Doug plays a rich young New Yorker whoâs
been living on a Nevada ranch. Upon a return trip to the city he declares that
urban life is a bore compared to the wild west. His friends bet him $5000 that
heâll soon experience a thrill, and then plot to trick him with a fake
kidnapping.
The East vs. West plotâvery relevant in that evolving eraâand the many stunts atop city buses, rooftops and bucking horses make this not only a memorable Fairbanks film but a harbinger of exciting things to come.
…..
6. His Picture in the Papers (1916)
This light comedy holds a particular charm for
me, not only because of the charismatic Doug himself, but because of the
abundance of period details. Every silent film has them, obviously, but some
are blessed with more than others, from unique clothing to busy set decorations
to shots taken in real city streets. For instance, in a scene where Doug ends
up in jail his cell is covered in graffitiâwhich includes a cartoon of Kaiser
Wilhelm (remember, this came out in 1916!).
Doug plays the son of a wealthy manufacturer of vegetarian food products. He wants to marry Christine Cadwalader, the daughter of an equally wealthy family friend, but heâs accused by his father of being lazyâtoo lazy to even âget his picture in the paperâ to help promote the family products. Realizing that he might be cut off from the family fortuneâlosing Christine in the processâhe decides to do whatever it takes to get himself in the papers. Naturally this is much easier said than doneâŚ!
…..
5. When the Clouds Roll By (1919)
By 1919 Doug had gotten his film formula down
pat: always revolve the plots around their star, add in plenty of light comedy
and have opportunities for those signature athletic stunts. When the Clouds Roll By has a
doleful-sounding plot, but donât be fooledâit handles dark material with a
surprisingly light touch. Doug is a superstitious young man who is unaware that
the psychiatrist heâs seeing is deranged. In the name of âscientific
experimentation,â the psychiatrist decides to drive Doug crazy to the point of
suicide. However, he doesnât count on Doug meeting his dream girl.
With surreal special effects such as a sequence where Doug walks on the ceiling decades earlier than Fred Astaire in Royal Wedding, and an exciting climax with a floating house that may have inspired scenes in Buster Keatonâs Sherlock Jr, When the Clouds Roll By is a 1910s gem. Itâs certainly worthy of any Fairbanks marathon.
…..
4. The Mark of Zorro (1920)
Not long after marrying fellow superstar Mary
Pickford, Doug embarked on a new type of film project that would marry his
signature formula with costume adventure. His true goal was to play DâArtagnan
in The Three Musketeers, but he
wasnât sure if a âFairbanks period pieceâ was what audiences would accept. As a
test, he decided to make The Mark of
Zorro. It was a smashing success, and he happily moved on with his
DâArtagnan dream.
The swashbuckling, the secret lair, the heroâs double identity, the excitement, the romanceâit was a perfect mix, and Dougâs masked Zorro became a huge influence not only on adventure films in general but even on the superhero genreâespecially Batman and Superman comics.
…..
3. Robin Hood (1922)
Once youâve been introduced to Swashbuckling
Doug itâs almost hard to decide what to watch next, but Iâd go with the
ambitious and well-regarded Robin Hood. Beautifully
filmed and full of charm and romance, it also features the largest physical set
built at that timeâeven bigger than the mighty Babylonian hall in Intolerance (1916). Hundreds of workers
labored on the giant castle and Nottingham village, Doug having insisted that
the picture âbe made lavishly or not made at all.â The resulting spectacle was an
immense achievement and an immense hit with both audiences and critics
alike.
…..
2. The Black Pirate (1926)
At the time this feature was in production,
Technicolor had been used sparingly in cinema, being expensive and usually
reserved for a few sequences in âprestigeâ pictures. Even after being used for
a full feature in 1922, Anna May Wongâs The
Toll of the Sea, manufacturers had a hard time convincing filmmakers to
invest in it. Douglas Fairbanks, however, knew Technicolor would work perfectly
for his latest swashbuckler.
Another big-budget adventure, The Black Pirate had every pirate trope a heart could desire along with sophisticated costuming, full-sized ship sets, and a beautiful color palette inspired by Rembrandt paintings. Doug himself is in magnificent form, as is his physique, confidently displayed by the tattered costumes.
…..
1. The Thief of Bagdad (1924)
Lastly, this is a feature Iâd recommend not
just as an excellent Fairbanks film, but as an excellent silent film in
general. Based on the Arabian Nights tales,
it leaned into the 1920sâ fascination with the Far East and featured stunning,
ethereal art direction that is practically unrivalled even today.
As Ahmed, a trickster thief who falls for a
princess and goes on a quest to win her hand, Doug is a joyful, bounding
spriteâwith a dash of stylization in his gestures to add to the fairytale
atmosphere. The film as a whole, with its dreamy special effects and Art
Nouveau-style beauty, is a masterful fantasy and is certainly one of the finest
examples of silent era escapism.
An important source for this post was Tracey Goesselâs book The First King of Hollywood: The Life of Douglas Fairbanks, the most well-researched (and extremely readable) biography on the star to date. I recommend it just as highly as the above Fairbanks films!
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.
Please note all original material on this site is Š the author of this blog unless otherwise stipulated, must not be reproduced without permission, and must include full acknowledgement/link of the source.
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