Western RoundUp: Walk the Proud Land (1956)

Posted on February 26, 2026 by Laura Grieve

Walk the Proud Land (1956)

Every year or so I like to review a new-to-me Audie Murphy film in my Western RoundUp column. 

My previous Murphy review, Apache Rifles (1964), was published last April.  This year I’ve watched one of Murphy’s more unusual Western films, Walk the Proud Land (1956), for the first time. My late father told me Walk the Proud Land was “a superior film,” and I agree.

Walk the Proud Land Poster 1

Audie Murphy was one of our greatest Western stars, yet even so I feel he’s somewhat underappreciated.  Thanks to Kino Lorber Studio Classics, his films have become easier for home viewers to obtain — and what’s more, in wonderful copies.  It’s my hope that these fine Blu-ray releases will bring more attention, along with new admirers, to Murphy’s films.

Audie Murphy Collection V

Walk the Proud Land is part of Kino Lorber’s Audie Murphy Collection V, along with two other strong entries, Seven Ways From Sundown (1960) and Bullet for a Badman (1964). A link for my past Western RoundUp review of Seven Ways From Sundown is at the bottom of this post.

Murphy was 31 when he made Walk the Proud Land.  He plays John Philip Clum, a religious Easterner who in 1874 becomes an agent on an Arizona Indian reservation, where he helps the tribe return to self-governing principles.

Audie Murphy, Charles Drake
Audie Murphy and Charles Drake

The screenplay by Gil Doud and Jack Sher was inspired by a biography by John Clum’s son Woodworth, titled Apache Agent.

Apache Agent by Woodworth Clum

For those who are interested, over a decade ago the late Western historian Jeff Arnold, who passed away in 2024, wrote about this film at his site, Jeff Arnold’s West, and shared some of the history of the real John Clum.  Suffice it to say that Walk the Proud Land seems to have done a fairly reasonable job accurately depicting parts of Clum’s story, while dramatizing other aspects.

As the movie opens, Clum (Murphy) arrives in Tucson looking very much like an Eastern dude, complete with bowler hat.

Addison Richards, Audie Murphy, Morris Ankrum
Addison Richards, Audie Murphy, and Morris Ankrum

Despite initially seeming rather out of place, Clum proves to be an unflappable man of principle, guided by his Dutch Reformed Church beliefs.  The governor (Addison Richards) and Army General Wade (Morris Ankrum) are highly skeptical of the Department of Interior putting churches in charge of Indian reservations, but Clum is firm about his plans to treat the Indians on an equal basis as fellow human beings.

Walk the Proud Land Poster 2

Upon arriving at the San Carlo Apache reservation, Clum orders Chief Eskiminzin (Robert Warwick) and his men unchained and tells Eskiminzin that the chief will govern his people once more.

There is ongoing conflict with the military over how to treat the Indians, but Clum persists in making changes, including re-arming the Apaches. 

Disalin (Anthony Caruso), a member of the tribe, takes advantage of this and tries to encourage his fellow tribe members to kill Clum, but instead Disalin is killed by his own brother, Taglito (Tommy Rall). After this incident Clum and Taglito become blood brothers in a formal ceremony.

Walk the Proud Land Lobby Card 1

Clum also has conflict on the home front, as Tianay (Anne Bancroft), an Apache widow with a young boy (Eugene Mazzola), wants to be Clum’s wife but has to settle for keeping house for him. 

Clum’s fiancée Mary (Patricia Crowley) arrives but after the wedding is shocked to realize Tianay has been living under the same roof as her new husband. Indeed, Tianay makes clear to Mary that she would also like to be Clum’s wife.

Walk the Proud Land Poster Wedding

Matters come to a head in terms of both military-Indian relations and Clum’s relationships with Mary and Tianay when Clum courageously sets out to capture Geronimo (Jay Silverheels).

Geronimo (Jay Silverheels)
Geronimo (Jay Silverheels)

I found Walk the Proud Land quite engrossing. It’s an interesting story, well told over its 88 minutes, and most of it was filmed in authentic-looking locations at Old Tucson and other areas in Arizona.

Murphy is outstanding as a quietly determined man who repeatedly won’t take “no” for an answer. While he does have a couple brawling action scenes, Clum is a man of peace and his character patiently and repeatedly does what he believes is right, hoping for the best outcome.

Pat Crowley, Charles Drake, Audie Murphy
Pat Crowley, Charles Drake, and Audie Murphy

It takes Clum’s bride Mary (Crowley) a bit of time to catch up with her husband’s attitudes; she loves him but is dismayed by the way his refusal to offend the Apaches extends to not wanting to offend Tianay with overt rejection.  He instead lets Tianay know that in his tradition he can have only one wife and trusts her to eventually work things out from there and move on.

Besides the conflict with another woman, Mary is also frightened her husband’s actions could leave her widowed.  In a scene reminiscent of Katy Jurado’s confrontation with Grace Kelly in High Noon (1952), Tianay convinces Mary that it’s her role to stand by her man.

Pat Crowley and Anne Bancroft
Pat Crowley and Anne Bancroft

Murphy’s good friend Charles Drake, who appeared with him in multiple films, here plays a former Army sergeant who becomes his aide. Drake is relaxed and engaging, providing a supportive contrast to Murphy’s quieter character.

As was common for the era, many of the Indian roles, with the exception of Jay Silverheels, were played by non-Indian actors. I thought Robert Warwick was excellent as the aging Indian chief. 

I was also fascinated by the casting of dancer Tommy Rall as Taglito, who becomes Clum’s blood brother.  Rall is best known for his exceptional dancing in movie musicals such as Kiss Me Kate (1953), Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), and My Sister Eileen (1955).

Tommy Rall
Tommy Rall

Except for a brief scene where Rall performs a war dance, this is strictly a dramatic role, and I found him quite credible.

Walk the Proud Land was well directed by Jesse Hibbs.  It was filmed by Harold Lipstein in Technicolor.  The movie was shot in late 1955 and released in the fall of 1956.

Walk the Proud Land Kino Lorber Bluray

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has an excellent widescreen print with a strong soundtrack.  The disc includes the trailer, which was newly mastered in 2K, plus five additional trailers for other Audie Murphy films. There’s also a commentary track by Gary Gerani.

Previous Western RoundUp reviews of Audie Murphy films: Destry (1954), Seven Ways From Sundown (1960), Hell Bent for Leather (1960), Showdown (1963), Apache Rifles (1964).

Thanks to Kino Lorber for providing a review copy of this Blu-ray.

…

– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

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

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Silents are Golden: Silent Superstars: Rudolph Valentino, The Ultimate Screen Idol

Posted on February 23, 2026 by Lea Stans

Silent Superstars: Rudolph Valentino, The Ultimate Screen Idol

Rudolph Valentino
Rudolph Valentino

How fortunate it was that a young Italian movie actor christened Rodolfo Alfonso Raffaello Pierre Filibert Guglielmi di Valentina d’Antonguella settled on the elegant “Rudolph Valentino” for his screen name. Not many people today are familiar with images of Valentino’s face, but everyone’s heard of the romantic name, and some will perhaps recognize vague descriptions of him as the “Great Lover” from the long-ago days of the silent screen. One of the near-mythical film icons who tragically passed away far too young, he made an extraordinary impact in his day and those who take the time to view his best films will doubtless understand why.

Rudolph Valentino, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
Posing as Julio in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921).

He was born to a middle class family in Castellaneta, Italy, in 1895, the same year films were first being exhibited. He and his siblings Alberto and Maria were very close to their mother, especially after their father tragically passed away from malaria. The teenaged Rodolfo preferred the outdoors and working with his hands to sitting in school, and while he tried studying professional landscaping he couldn’t shake off his longing for a greater adventure. At age 18 he boarded a ship to New York City to seek his fortune.

The young Italian would work a series of odd jobs, and thanks to his natural grace and coordination became a dance instructor and taxi dancer (a “for hire” dancing partner, a mildly frowned-upon occupation at the time). This line of work led to his first brush with public drama when he became a witness in the sensational divorce trial of heiress Blanca de Saulles. Seeking a fresh start–on the opposite side of the country–he dabbled in the California theater scene and decided to try breaking into motion pictures. He shyly but insistently hung around Hollywood movie studios until he started getting work as an extra. His first modest break was as an extra in the feature Alimony (1918), where he was paid five dollars a day.

Rudolph Valentino, still from A Married Virgin
Still from A Married Virgin (1918).

It only took a few small roles for directors to typecast the young Italian as a “Latin” villain in films like The Married Virgin (1918), Eyes of Youth (1919), and Once to Every Woman (1920). He attempted to work with the renowned D.W. Griffith, but the director infamously dismissed him as “too foreign looking” and felt certain that “The girls would never like him.” Nevertheless, Rodolfo persisted–and he also managed to settle on a screen name. Few actors had their names so prone to different spellings: “De Valentina,” “Volantino,” “di Valentina,” and “Valentine” would be paired variously with “Rodolfo,” “Rodolph” or “Rudolpho.” Finally he chose the catchy “Rudolph Valentino,” although he liked the nickname “Rudy.”

Rudolph Valentino with Dorothy Phillips in Once to Every Woman
With Dorothy Phillips in Once to Every Woman (1920).

In early 1918 Valentino’s beloved mother died, devastating him. He would also enter a doomed marriage with actress Jean Acker, part of the inner circle of the theatrical queen bee Alla Nazimova. But luck finally came his way: in 1921 the great screenwriter June Mathis recommended him for the role of the fiery libertine Julio Desnoyers in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921). His impressively charismatic performance was a sensation, particularly his sensuous tango scenes. Mathis had correctly sensed that female audiences were tired of the pale, well-starched heroes on the screens and wanted something new. Valentino’s Four Horseman costar Alice Terry would recall, “I always had the impression that I was playing with a volcano that might erupt at any minute. It never did, but that was the secret of his appeal.”

After this breakout role Valentino appeared in the Art Deco drama Camille (1921) starring Alla Nazimova. He was drawn to its set designer, the statuesque Natacha Rambova, and it wasn’t long before they were in a relationship despite his shakey marriage to Jean Acker. He then signed with Famous Players-Lasky, which promptly starred him in the romance The Sheik (1921). The film’s tale of an impetuous young Englishwoman captured by a sensual desert sheik was a huge sensation, although Valentino’s performance is somewhat giggle-worthy today thanks to director George Melford’s liking for histrionics.

Rudolph Valentino and Agnes Ayres in The Sheik
Rudolph Valentino and Agnes Ayres in The Sheik (1921).

The Sheik would leave a major mark on 1920s pop culture, coinciding with the era’s interest in “exotic” Eastern cultures. Young men who styled their hair like Valentino, slicked back and very glossy, were dubbed “sheiks,” and young flappers were called “shebas.” “The Sheik of Araby” was a hugely popular song, and desert romances were all the rage on screen–even the reputable Milton Sills tried his hand at being a dangerous screen sheik.

Rudolph Valentino and Lila Lee, Blood and Sand
Rudolph Valentino and Lila Lee in Blood and Sand (1922).

Valentino’s subsequent films had him star in Gloria Swanson in Beyond the Rocks (1922) and play the red-blooded toreador Gallardo in his personal favorite film, Blood and Sand (1922).

Thanks to his success and likely also to Rambova’s influence, Valentino began asking for larger salaries and more artistic control over his films. Butting heads with the studios led to going “on strike” from films for a time and going on a tour with Natacha, who was now his second wife. Dubbed the Mineralava Dance Tour (sponsored by a beauty company), it featured the famous couple giving demonstrations of the famous tango. They attracted massive crowds wherever they went.

Rudolph Valentino and Natacha Rambova
With Natacha Rambova

Back in Hollywood he would star in films like the historical drama Monsieur Beaucaire (1924) and popular action drama The Eagle (1925), but by this point the strain of his fame was beginning to show. His marriage to Natasha would crumble in 1926, another shattering personal event. He told one reporter frankly: “A man should control his life. My life is controlling me.”

In 1926 he decided to star in The Son of the Sheik, the sequel to The Sheik. Beautifully shot and full of drama, romance and action, it was promising to be a sensational hit. Valentino’s performance was nothing short of magnificent, full of all the charisma, menace and sensual allure his fans could desire. It also presented a unique challenge since he played a dual role of both the elderly sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan and his virile son, Ahmed.

Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Bánky inThe Son of the Sheik
Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Bánky in The Son of the Sheik (1926).

As the film was rolled out to the first run theaters, Valentino embarked on a promotional tour that was packed with social events. In mid-August 1926, he was at a party in New York City when he became seriously ill. At the hospital doctors discovered a perforated stomach ulcer the size of a dime. He had been suffering stomach pains for a long time, attempting to treat himself with bicarbonate of soda. Despite an operation he developed severe peritonitis, and on August 23, 1926, Rudolph Valentino passed away at 12:10 p.m. His last words may have been: “Don’t pull the blinds! I feel fine. I want the sunlight to greet me.”

The hysteria that attended his death is remembered even today. The public was allowed to view his body lying in state at Frank E. Campbell’s Funeral Church and a reported 100,000 people showed up, leading to a riot. His funeral train heading to Hollywood was visited by countless fans at each stop along the way, from the East to the West coast of the country. He was finally laid to rest in the Cathedral Mausoleum at the Hollywood Forever cemetery, in a chamber donated by June Mathis.

Rudolph Valentino final resting place

The fame in his lifetime, reputation for being the greatest “Latin Lover” of the screen, and sudden, shocking death have all naturally catapulted Rudolph Valentino to “icon” status, a status which has practically become mythical. Images of his face rarely circulate among the regular public nowadays and his movies may be known mostly to film buffs, yet mercifully, that legendary status remains.

…

–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

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

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

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Ahead of its time, John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing’ honored by the National Film Registry

Posted on February 21, 2026 by Toni Ruberto

John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing’ honored by the National Film Registry

At an isolated Antarctic research station, scientists battle a deadly alien with such extraordinary shape-shifting capabilities that the men don’t know if the person next to them is still human. The truth is only revealed when the alien is threatened and violently abandons its current inhabitant.

As played out in John Carpenter’s bleak 1982 film The Thing, these scenes are shocking. The alien bursts from its warm hideout inside man or beast with pieces of previous victims gushing out and sinewy tentacles whipping through the room in search of another victim to absorb. Yes, it looks as gross as it sounds and that’s the marvel of this film made in the predigital and CGI-age.

Kurt Russell led the fight against the alien in John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”

To say Carpenter’s film was ahead of its time is one of the biggest understatements in film history. The alien effects created by whiz kid Rob Bottin were so grotesquely unique that audiences and critics recoiled from them resulting in vicious reviews and empty theaters. Add in the insurmountable box-office competition from that lovable little alien in “E.T.”  and the dismal fate was sealed for The Thing.

Now, 54 years later, the world seems ready for it.

The Thing is one of 25 films named to the 2025 National Film Registry in recognition of its place as a film that is “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant.” It is also the only horror/sci-film on this year’s list. The designation means it will be preserved by National Film Preservation Board allowing it to be discovered by future generations. The Thing was the No. 1 choice by fans who nominated 7,559 titles. That is not an automatic qualifier since it is the Librarian of Congress who makes the final choices based on recommendations by the NFP board and the public. However, fan response to The Thing was strong and notable.

Jacqueline Stewart, chair of the NFP board, recognized the accomplishment when she said, “It is especially exciting to see that the top title nominated by the public for this year, The Thing, has been added to the National Film Registry.”

Why was it chosen? Here’s what the press release announcing the 2025 Film Registry said about The Thing.

Moody, stark, often funny and always chilling, this science fiction horror classic follows Antarctic scientists who uncover a long-dormant, malevolent extraterrestrial presence. “The Thing” revolutionized horror special effects and offers a brutally honest portrait of the results of paranoia and exhaustion when the unknown becomes inescapable. “The Thing” deftly adapts John W. Campbell’s 1938 novella “Who Goes There?” and influenced “Stranger Things” and “Reservoir Dogs.” It remains a tense, thrilling and profoundly unsettling work of cinema.

Filming The Thing

By 1981, 33-year-old filmmaker John Carpenter was already recognized as a master of horror, and more importantly in the film industry, a proven box-office commodity thanks to the success of Halloween (1978), The Fog (1980) and Escape from New York (1981). His next project was a remake of The Thing from Another World (1951), based on the 1938 novella by John W. Campbell Jr. called Who Goes There?

James Arness as the alien in the 1951 film The Thing From Another World.

Playing the alien in the 1951 film was a pre-Gunsmoke James Arness whose 6-foot, 7-inch frame allowed the creature to appear a threat in size and strength. Although it looked like a relative of Frankenstein’s monster with a strange-shaped head, the alien didn’t exhibit any powers. Still, the idea of it was enough for the film to be a hit. Even The New York Times prickly critic Boswell Crowther had good things to say, writing that it was “generous with thrills and chills.” Long considered a classic of the sci-fi genre, it was named to the National Film Registry in 2001.

For Carpenter’s 1982 remake, expectations were high. Fans loved his films. And the director had hired the 22-year-old Bottin who had revolutionized werewolf effects in The Howling (1981) with his pioneering practical effects where he used technology you could do with your hands, instead of animation and computers.

One of the gruesome discoveries in The Thing includes the dog victims.

There was much buzz with leading genre magazines including Fangoria and Cinefantastique among those filled with early stories and special sections about what promised to be groundbreaking effects. Bottin and his staff used latex, rubber, wire, puppets and mechanics to invent things that had not been seen on film. Innocent everyday household items like heated Bubble Yum gum, melted crayons, mayonnaise, cream corn and “vats” of K-Y jelly helped create the startling effects.

In the end, the work was as promised: innovative, original, trailblazing. But it was also gruesome and too much for audiences and critics. Reviews were as eviscerating to the film as its shape-shifting creature was to the victims it inhabited, ripped open and annihilated while morphing into other shapes.

It was “an extraordinary exercise in the grotesque,” wrote Peter Stack of the San Francisco Chronicle.

Jay Boyar in the Buffalo Courier-Express termed it a “gore-a-rama,” adding “It’s impossible not to be repulsed by The Thing.”

The spider-head is one of the most shocking effects in The Thing.

The reviewer from Motion Picture Digest didn’t hold back by giving the film a “poor” rating. “It takes a strong stomach to sit through John Carpenter’s The Thing which has the most repellent and downright nauseating shock effects yet devised for a horror movie from a major Hollywood studio.”

We know that bad reviews don’t necessarily doom a film, but timing was everything for The Thing. It was released the same day as Ridley Scott’s masterpiece Blade Runner and Clint Eastwood’s Firefox, and just two weeks after E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial.

Audiences, who had their heartstrings tugged by the beloved E.T., did not want to see an alien wrap its tentacles around dogs or burst from a human. The disappointing $20.9 million at the box office barely covered its $15 million budget.

Carpenter was devastated, as was his cast and the crew that had worked around the clock for more than a year, resulting in Bottin being hospitalized for exhaustion.

Director John Carpenter in a press photo from The Thing.

The film quickly disappeared from theaters. Carpenter lost the next movie he was going to direct, Stephen King’s Firestarter, and the experience took a long-lasting emotional toll on him. In an often-quoted 1985 interview with Starlog, Carpenter said “I had no idea it would be received that way … The Thing was just too strong for that time.”

That’s no longer the case as illustrated by the National Film Registry honor, one that means quite a lot to those involved with making the original film. Here’s what Carpenter posted on his official Facebook page on Jan. 30:

As you may have heard, “The Thing” has been added to the Library of Congress. We made the movie to push against the edges of what we could pull off, and it carries that strain in its bones. Seeing it now treated with the same care and reverence we had making it, means a great deal to me and everyone who brought it to life. I especially want to remember TK Carter, who brought heart and humor into that desolate, frozen place and should be standing here with us today sharing in this recognition. Thank you to everyone who continues to keep it alive.

The Thing also has gained new fans through the years from home video releases (including a 2021 4K release), streaming and continued screenings. Plus a new five-hour documentary called The Thing Expanded is in the works.

In the 2020 book Fright Favorites (Turner Classic Movies), film historian David J. Skal recognized that while the movie’s “unprecedented level of grotesque special effects repelled reviewers and critics alike” on its original release, that it was now “widely hailed as a visual-effects milestone in imaginative cinema of the predigital era.”

The “split face” monster, created by Rob Bottin for The Thing, shows the faces of two victims that were assimilated by the alien.

“Bottin’s morphing monstrosities in The Thing, bring to mind Salvador Dali’s melting timepieces given human shape, as well as the ferocious, twisted forms of painter Francis Bacon in works like Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion,” Skal wrote.

In a new interview for the Library of Congress, Richard Masur, who played the dog handler Clark in the film, called it called it one of the last great “rubber movies” referencing the fact that all special effects were made by hand.

“There is not a frame of CGI in this film and people who care about that, and many of us do, are very impressed that this film is finally being recognized for the extraordinary accomplishment that it represents in film history,” Masur said in the interview.

Legacy of The Thing and Rob Bottin

It saddens me to know that the extraordinary creativity of Rob Bottin and the others who worked on The Thing was maligned or just ignored for so many years. Today, it’s routine to watch medical dramas where chests are cracked open, organs are removed and brains are drilled into for surgery. People love it and make these shows hits on television and streaming services. (In my case, I’m watching through nearly closed eyes until it’s over.)

It saddens me even more to watch old interviews with Bottin who comes off as a huge movie fan filled with energy and excitement for his work, as well as gratitude. He’s long been out of the public eye and the film industry and that’s a shame. I’m hoping this honor will continue to put the spotlight back on the film and Bottin’s work. It should be celebrated.

Also on the crew

Bottin didn’t do it alone. While there are too many talented people to mention, here are some of the names featured in interviews. Two of the most well-known times are Roy Arbogast who did many of the mechanical effects including the dogs, and Stan Winston who created “the dog-Thing.” Rob Borman and Dale Brady, both only 19 at the time, worked on the final version of the creature called the “Blair Monster” or “Blair-Thing,” one of the most startling versions of the alien. Others included Eric Jensen, Randy Cook, Carl Surges and Ernie Farino.

Vote for the National Film Registry

Nominations for the 2026 National Film Registry are accepted through Aug. 15, 2026. Go to loc.gov/film where you can find the online nomination form. The site provides links to the movies currently on the Registry as well as hundreds of titles not yet selected. Nominees must be at least 10 years old and be “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” You can nominate up to 50 films(!).

Films Selected for the 2025 National Film Registry
(chronological order)

  • The Tramp and the Dog (1896)
  • The Oath of the Sword (1914)
  • The Maid of McMillan (1916)
  • The Lady (1925)
  • Sparrows (1926)
  • Ten Nights in a Barroom (1926)
  • White Christmas (1954)
  • High Society (1956)
  • Brooklyn Bridge (1981)
  • Say Amen, Somebody (1982)
  • The Thing (1982)
  • The Big Chill (1983)
  • The Karate Kid (1984)
  • Glory (1989)
  • Philadelphia (1993)
  • Before Sunrise (1995)
  • Clueless (1995)
  • The Truman Show (1998)
  • Frida (2002)
  • The Hours (2002)
  • The Incredibles (2004)
  • The Wrecking Crew (2008)
  • Inception (2010)
  • The Loving Story (2011)
  • The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)
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Noir Nook: 75th Anniversary Noir – 2026 Edition

Posted on February 19, 2026 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

75th Anniversary Noir – 2026 Edition

It’s about that time, y’all! February at the Noir Nook means our annual look at the noirs that are celebrating their 75th anniversary, and have I got four winners for you from 1951!

Before I proceed, I’d like to toss a few honorable mentions your way – if you’re ever in search of additional time-worthy noirs from 75 years back, these will fit the bill: Appointment with Danger (Alan Ladd and Phyllis Calvert), Cry Danger (Dick Powell and Rhonda Fleming), Fourteen Hours (Richard Basehart and Paul Douglas), The Mob (Broderick Crawford and Richard Kiley), and Roadblock (Charles McGraw and Joan Dixon). There’s nary a clunker in the bunch . . .

Ace in the Hole

Ace in the Hole, Kirk Douglas and Richard Benedict
Kirk Douglas and Richard Benedict, Ace in the Hole

This Billy Wilder-directed gem stars Kirk Douglas as Chuck Tatum, an ambitious reporter whose past misdeeds on a string of big-city newspapers have landed him in a ho-hum job on a small publication in “sun-baked Siberia” – also known as Albuquerque, New Mexico. There, he spends most of his days pacing the floor, kicking his chair in frustration, and trying to decide whether he should cover the local soapbox derby or the tornado that “double-crossed us and went to Texas.” All he wants for Christmas (and every other day) is that one big story that will catapult him back to the big leagues – and he gets it when he learns about a local trading post owner – Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) – who is trapped underground after a cave-in.

That incident would make a satisfactory one-day story for most reporters, but not Chuck. He teams up with corrupt sheriff Gus Kretzer (Ray Teal), promising a reporting campaign that will ensure Kretzer reelection if the sheriff gives him exclusive access to Minosa. Then, Chuck and Kretzer mastermind a pivot in the rescue effort in favor of one that will take up to a week longer to reach Minosa. And if you haven’t guessed that things are not going to turn out well, you just haven’t been watching enough noir. The dark atmosphere is heightened by the spate of tourists who flock to the scene of the cave-in, transforming it into a carnival-like event complete with food vendors, rides for the kids, and even a theme song (“We’re Coming, Leo!”). Oh – and I almost forgot to mention Minosa’s less-than-devoted wife Lorraine (Jan Sterling), who’d planned to walk out on her husband after learning about his accident, but was persuaded to stay by the prospect of the big bucks she’d make from the influx of tourists to the area.

Favorite quote: “I don’t go to church. Kneeling bags my nylons.” – Lorraine Minosa (Jan Sterling)

He Ran All the Way

He Ran All the Way, Shelley Winters, John Garfield, Wallace Ford, Robert Hyatt
Shelley Winters, John Garfield, Wallace Ford, Robert Hyatt, He Ran All the Way

In his last feature film before his death at the age of 39, John Garfield plays Nick Robey, a low-level hood who still lives at home with his mother and embraces the concept of “from bad to worse” when he teams with a pal to carry out a payroll robbery. He takes it on the lam when his buddy is shot and a security guard is killed, but he doesn’t go far, seeking refuge at a local public pool. There, he hides in plain sight, flirting the day away with a shy and emotionally needy swimmer, Peg Dobbs (Shelley Winters) – who will come to regret accepting Nick’s attentions after he walks her home and winds up taking her family hostage.

The picture is unique in the presentation of its characters – they’re not a cookie-cutter, predictable lot but, instead, offer personality traits that are layered and outside of the norm. Peg, for example, initially comes off as inexperienced and immature, but she demonstrates her mettle later on, as the stakes get higher and the danger ramps up within the Dobbs household. And you’d expect Peg’s mother, played by Selena Royle, to be frightened and skittish, overcome with anxiety over the gun-wielding killer in her home; instead, she demonstrates an unshakable combination of courage and outrage, and doesn’t hesitate to do whatever she can to protect her family. But the most multifaceted character is Nick – while he’s undeniably a criminal with a hair-trigger temper and a penchant for poor decision-making, he manages to invoke the viewer’s sympathy through his interactions with the family. In one scene, for instance, he exhibits genuine concern after Mrs. Dobbs is injured in a sewing machine mishap, and later, we see his pain when the family rejects the turkey dinner he was so pleased to provide for them. He’s a heartbreaker – killer or no.

Favorite quote: “Everybody gets to the point where they draw a line. When that line is drawn, you can’t force them any farther. Not even with a gun.” – Fred Dobbs (Wallace Ford)

The Prowler

The Prowler, Van Heflin and Evelyn Keyes
Van Heflin and Evelyn Keyes, The Prowler

This unique entry centers on housewife Susan Gilvray (Evelyn Keyes), who gets more than she bargains for when she reports a suspected prowler to police. One of the cops who responds to the call is Webb Garwood (Van Heflin), and before you can say “Bob’s your uncle,” he and the very married Susan are embroiled in a torrid affair. But they don’t have to sneak around for long, because Susan’s husband winds up dead (three guesses as to who’s responsible, and the first two don’t count). The absence of Mr. Gilvray clears the way for Webb and Susan to tie the knot, but unfortunately for Susan, she learns that there’s more to her groom than meets the eye. This becomes even more apparent when Susan gets pregnant and Webb insists on relocating with his bride to a remote cabin in the desert.

Heflin, in particular, turns in a standout performance in this often-overlooked film – his Webb is one of noir’s most unsavory villains. His persona is especially insidious because it’s cloaked behind the uniform and the badge, and he’s not immediately seen as the bad guy he turns out to be. Instead, red flags begin to crop up and the viewer, along with Susan, gradually realizes what a lethal trap she’s in.

Favorite quote: “So, I’m no good! Well, I’m no worse than anybody else! You work in a store, you knock down on the cash register. A big boss, the income tax. Ward heeler, you sell votes. A lawyer, take bribes. I was a cop . . . I used a gun. But whatever I did, I did for you.” – Webb Garwood (Van Heflin)

Strangers on a Train

Strangers on a Train, Farley Granger and Robert Walker
Farley Granger and Robert Walker, Strangers on a Train

One of my many favorite Alfred Hitchcock films (on any given day, it’s definitely in the top three), this feature is based on the well-received 1950 debut novel by Patricia Highsmith. One of the two strangers of the title is Guy Haines (Farley Granger), a tennis pro who’s stymied in his desire to marry his girlfriend (Ruth Roman) because his shrewish – and pregnant – wife (Laura Elliott), refuses to divorce him. (Did I mention that the baby isn’t Guy’s?) The other stranger, Bruno Antony (Robert Walker), is charming and gregarious – and a complete sociopath. When Guy and Bruno meet by accident aboard a train, Bruno secures what he perceives as Guy’s approval for a foolproof “criss-cross” murder idea, where Bruno will kill Guy’s wife and Guy will extend the same treatment to Bruno’s hated father. And Bruno is nothing if not a man of action, if you get my drift.

Hitchcock does a masterful job in helming this feature – the subject of a first-rate 2025 book by Stephen Rebello – and Walker turns in the performance of his career, creating a character that is at once appealing and terrifying. In addition to Elliott and Hitchcock’s real-life daughter, Patricia, the film’s standout performers include Marion Lorne (who played Aunt Clara on TV’s Bewitched) as Bruno’s ditzy but harmless mother. And even though Hitchcock didn’t get the ending he wanted (Warner Bros. studio head Jack Warner insisted on a more lightweight conclusion), the entire production is first-rate, from start to finish.

Favorite quote: “I may be old-fashioned, but I thought murder was against the law.” – Guy Haines (Farley Granger)

And that’s it for this year’s celebration of films turning 75 this year – what are some of your favorite noirs from 1951? Leave a comment and let me know!

…

– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

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

Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages.
If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:

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Silver Screen Standards: Two Silent Comedies from Ernst Lubitsch

Posted on February 12, 2026 by Jennifer Garlen

Two Silent Comedies from Ernst Lubitsch

Ernst Lubitsch is celebrated as the director of many of Hollywood’s great comedies, including Ninotchka (1939), To Be or Not to Be (1942), and Heaven Can Wait (1943), but he directed films in his native Germany for nearly a decade before his transition to Hollywood in 1922. Two of the best of Lubitsch’s early comedies, I Don’t Want to Be a Man (1918) and The Doll (1919), are available in a single Blu-ray set from Kino Lorber, and I recently treated myself to a copy during one of the company’s regular online sales. I had seen The Doll before and already knew it was a lot of fun, but I also thoroughly enjoyed the gender shenanigans in I Don’t Want to Be a Man. Even viewers who aren’t silent film aficionados can enjoy both of these lively pictures, but fans of Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd will especially enjoy this double feature. If you’re looking for accessible silent comedies or working to expand your appreciation of Lubitsch’s work, both of these movies will fit the bill, and they also offer a grand introduction to the energetic comedy genius of leading lady Ossi Oswalda, who starred in a dozen of Lubitsch’s silent films.

Both I Don’t Want to Be a Man and The Doll star the delightful Ossi Oswalda.
Both I Don’t Want to Be a Man and The Doll star the delightful Ossi Oswalda.

I Don’t Want to Be a Man is the shorter of the two features at just 41 minutes, with a story that skips a lot of plot development to focus on the gags of its premise. Ossi Oswalda, who is both the actress and the character, resents the limits enforced on her by her guardians and escapes for a wild night on the town disguised as a man. In The Doll, Ossi is the daughter of a famous dollmaker who accidentally sells his real daughter to a nervous young man whose uncle insists that he get married. Of the two, The Doll more fully embodies the expectations of a feature film, with 70 minutes of story to develop characters like the unwilling groom Lancelot (Hermann Thimig), the temperamental dollmaker Hilarius (Victor Janson), Lancelot’s uncle (Max Kronert), and the scene-stealing dollmaker’s apprentice (Gerhard Ritterband).

Ossi models while her father finishes up the doll version of her in The Doll.
Ossi models while her father finishes up the doll version of her in The Doll.

Ossi Oswalda, the star of both pictures, makes for a delightful heroine, especially because both of her characters are quite badly behaved and utterly unrepentant about it. Her girlish, naughty protagonists throw off the restrictions of parents, guardians, social norms, and etiquette with glee, and they get what they want out of life because of it. They are obvious forerunners of the iconic screwball heroines later embodied by Carole Lombard, Irene Dunne, and Claudette Colbert. Oswalda is a very physical comedian, and both the cross-dressing adventure and her stint as a girl pretending to be a life-size doll give her plenty of opportunities to use her whole body as part of the gag. Disguised as a man, she swaggers about town and then gets outrageously drunk with her unsuspecting guardian (Curt Goetz), which has her in a quandary when the combination of booze and cigars sends her running for the public toilets. Impersonating her broken dolly double, Ossi rapidly alternates between lively action and mechanical stiffness depending on who is looking at her. When Lancelot’s actions annoy or offend her, she reacts by moving so quickly that he thinks his imagination is playing tricks on him. Both heroines embody the chaotic joie de vivre of a cartoon character, creating upheaval wherever they go but ultimately making life better for themselves and their romantic partners.

Ossi engages in the manly pastime of cigar smoking in I Don’t Want to Be a Man.
Ossi engages in the manly pastime of cigar smoking in I Don’t Want to Be a Man.

Of the two films, The Doll is the more stylistically complex and interesting in terms of Lubitsch’s direction. In her essay for the 2017 San Francisco Silent Film Festival, Farran Smith Nehme calls the movie “deliciously weird for 1919 or any other year,” which accurately sums it up. Adapted from a 19th century opera and set in an overtly fantastic world, it unfolds like a puppet show version of a fairy tale but still takes full advantage of the creative opportunities inherent in its cinematic medium. The opening establishes the toy box nature of the setting, as Lubitsch himself sets out a pair of dolls who then transform into Lancelot and his nanny on their way to an audience with Lancelot’s aged and ailing uncle. Cardboard sets constantly remind us not to expect realism here, but it’s still a laugh out loud shock to see the “horses” that pull a carriage. Lancelot’s uncle, the Baron of Chanterelle, is surrounded by greedy relatives who eagerly await his death, and we experience their clamoring as a screen full of yammering mouths. The hair of the dollmaker, Hilarius, first stands on end and then turns white in a rapid transformation, and we also see him sleepwalk across rooftops and fly into the air thanks to a handful of balloons. Aside from the antics of Ossi and Lancelot, we’re witness to the increasingly violent conflict between Hilarius and his unnamed apprentice, who alternates between suicidal attempts to drink paint and outraged resistance to his mistreatment by the master. Throughout the picture, the childish, artificial world stands in contrast to the very real and adult themes of violence, sex, and greed, a contradiction familiar to Tex Avery and Chuck Jones fans. Lancelot fears women and the sexual maturity they represent, and of course he isn’t ready for the bundle of unconstrained life embodied by Ossi, but her deception allows him to warm up to the idea by degrees until the truth can be revealed. It’s an absurd revision of the Pygmalion myth that perfectly captures the essence of screwball romance, where the man has to be hectored by the heroine until he eventually gives in to the inevitability of love.

Ossi and Lancelot enjoy their union in The Doll
Ossi and Lancelot enjoy their union in The Doll.

Ernst Lubitsch died in 1947, and his final directorial effort, That Lady in Ermine (1948), was released after his death. Ossi Oswalda, whose last screen appearance came in 1933, also died in 1947 in Prague, having fled Nazi Germany in the 1930s. For another Lubitsch/Oswalda film that’s available on physical media, look for The Oyster Princess (1919); the Kino Lorber Blu-ray also includes the 1919 Lubitsch comedy, Meyer from Berlin, starring the director himself. For even more films from Ernst Lubitsch, see Trouble in Paradise (1932), Design for Living (1933), Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1938), The Shop Around the Corner (1940), and That Uncertain Feeling (1941). For a provocative double feature, try pairing The Doll with Lars and the Real Girl (2007), or trace its roots to E.T.A. Hoffmann’s 1816 short story, “The Sandman,” and the ballet Coppélia by watching a film adaptation of Hoffmann’s most famous story, The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

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

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

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Classic Movie Travels: Dorothy Mackaill

Posted on February 5, 2026 by Annette Bochenek

Classic Movie Travels: Dorothy Mackaill

Dorothy Mackaill
Dorothy Mackaill

Dorothy Mackaill was born on March 4, 1903, in Kingston upon Hull, England, to John Mackaill and Florence Pickard Mackaill. She was primarily raised by her father after her parents separated in 1914. He owned a dance academy nearby. During this time, Mackaill was a student at Thoresby Primary School.

As a teenager, Mackaill was interested in pursuing a stage career. She danced in a production of Joybelles at the Hippodrome in London and also had minor roles in Pathé films shot in Paris. She moved to New York City when she was 17, dancing in the Ziegfeld Follies’ Midnight Frolic Revue.

In 1920, Mackaill focused on her film career, making her feature film debut in the British silent crime film The Face at the Window (1920). She made several comedies with Johnny Hines in addition to appearing alongside Anna May Wong, Noah Beery, and Lon Chaney in Bits of Life (1921). Over the years, she worked with many popular stars, including the likes of Richard Barthelmess, Colleen Moore, John Barrymore, Bebe Daniels, and more.

Mackaill became a lead actress in The Man Who Came Back (1924), co-starring George O’Brien. In the same year, she starred in The Mine with the Iron Door, leading to her acknowledgment as one of the Western Association of Motion Picture Advertisers (WAMPAS) Baby Stars. Among the 13 recipients of the title in 1924 were Clara Bow and Lucille Ricksen. As the 1920s continued, she successfully made the transition to sound films in the part-talking film The Barker (1920).

Mackaill became a naturalized citizen of the United States in 1926, giving a false birth year of 1904 to shave one year off her actual age. In the same year, she married German film director Lothar Mendes, divorcing in 1928.

In 1931, her film contract with First National Pictures was not renewed. Before retiring to care for her mother in 1937, she appeared alongside Humphrey Bogart in Love Affair (1932) and made additional films for Paramount, MGM, and Columbia.

Dorothy Mackaill and Joel McCrea in Kept Husbands (1931)

Mackaill married twice more: next to radio singer Neil Albert Miller from 1931 to 1934, and finally to horticulturist Harold Patterson from 1947 to 1948.

In 1955, she moved to Honolulu, Hawaii, after being captivated by the islands decades earlier. She lived in Room 253 of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Waikiki Beach and enjoyed swimming in the ocean almost daily.

After her move, she made occasional television appearances, including two episodes of Hawaii Five-O.

She passed away from liver failure in her room at the Royal Hawaiian on August 12, 1990, at age 87. Her ashes were scattered off Waikiki Beach.

Mackaill was born at 20 Newstead St., Dukeries, Kingston upon Hull.

20 Newstead St., Dukeries, Kingston upon Hull
20 Newstead St., Dukeries, Kingston upon Hull

Today, Thoresby Primary School is located at Thoresby St., Hull HU5 3RG, United Kingdom. There, Mackaill is honored with a blue plaque in addition to one of the schoolhouses being named after her.

In 1926, she lived at 22 Willard Ave., Mt. Vernon, New York.

22 Willard Ave., Mt. Vernon, New York
22 Willard Ave., Mt. Vernon, NY

By 1927, she and her first husband lived at 7415 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles, California. The original home no longer stands.

In 1938, she resided with her mother and cook, Rose Fausel, at 78 Ocean Way, Los Angeles, California. This home stands.

78 Ocean Way, Los Angeles, California
78 Ocean Way, Los Angeles, CA

In 1940, she resided at the Warwick Hotel at 65 W 54th St., New York, New York.

Warwick Hotel at 65 W 54th St., New York, New York
The Warwick Hotel, NYC

In 1944, she lived at 15 E. 58th St., Room 3A, New York, New York, which no longer stands.

The Royal Hawaiian remains in operation as a luxury hotel at 2259 Kalākaua Ave., Honolulu, Hawaii.

Royal Hawaiian, 2259 Kalākaua Ave., Honolulu, Hawaii.
Royal Hawaiian, Honolulu

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–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

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

Annette Bochenek, 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.

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Western RoundUp: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

Posted on January 30, 2026 by Laura Grieve

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

As I’ve shared in previous columns, we’re fortunate to have a variety of venues showing classic films in the greater Los Angeles area.

One of those theaters is The Autry Museum of the American West, cofounded by cowboy star Gene Autry.

Autry Museum
Autry Museum, Los Angeles, CA

Over the years I’ve seen a number of Westerns at The Autry, as it’s referred to informally, including Shane (1953), Johnny Guitar (1954), The Tall T (1957), and Canyon Passage (1946).

I wrote about the Canyon Passage screening here almost exactly seven years ago; it’s hard to believe it’s been that long!

I just returned to The Autry for my first screening in a couple of years.  In the intervening time the museum theater dropped Wells Fargo as a sponsor name and was remodeled.

Autry Museum statue

I’m pleased to say that the theater sound system is now vastly improved, enabling me to clearly hear every word, even with, shall we say, “imperfect” hearing.  I very much recommend that Southern Californians visit The Autry.

The impetus for my return to The Autry was a 35mm screening in the museum’s ongoing “What is a Western?” movie series. 

Making the event even more interesting was that the film was introduced by retired USC Cinema professor Drew Casper, who was one of our oldest daughter’s professors when she was in college.  I got to sit in on one of her classes; he’s an interesting and entertaining speaker.

Drew Casper
Drew Casper

The movie shown was John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), which I’d not seen for literally decades.   In fact, while I’ve seen bits and pieces over the years, my records indicate that I’d not seen the complete film since my early teens.

Man Who Shot Liberty Valance Poster 1

At that time in my life I found the movie something of a downer, with its tragic love triangle and melancholy tone about the passing of the American West. The optimism of Ford films such as Wagon Master (1950) and Rio Grande (1950) was much more appealing to me, and I never returned to Liberty Valance.

I knew it was past time to revisit the movie and watch it in a more mature context, in terms of both my age and the hundreds of Westerns seen in the intervening years. And indeed, while the earlier “optimistic” Ford films remain my favorites, I was very much able to appreciate Liberty Valance now.  It may not be my favorite story, but every frame is rich, majestic Fordian storytelling of a caliber rarely equaled by other filmmakers. I very much enjoyed it.

Man Who Shot Liberty Valance Title

One of the first things I noticed was that the Liberty Valance titles were done in a similar style to one of my favorite Ford films, My Darling Clementine (1946). 

My Darling Clementine Title

That’s the kind of thing you only tend to note as an older viewer who’s seen a lot of movies – or at least a lot of Ford movies!  I found it interesting as Clementine is also about the taming of the West, but while it has its own melancholy aspects, Darryl Zanuck saw to it that the final edit ended on a relatively optimistic note. Liberty Valance, by contrast, ends wistfully, perhaps even sadly.

As the 123-minute The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance begins, prominent, older politician Ransom “Ranse” Stoddard (James Stewart) and his wife Hallie (Vera Miles) are returning to a dusty Western town from their past.

As they meet up with old friends such as Link Appleyard (Andy Devine) and Pompey (Woody Strode), we learn they have come to town to mourn the death of an old friend, Tom Doniphon (John Wayne).

In flashback Ranse recounts to some newspapermen how he came to meet Tom and Hallie, after being severely beaten by Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin) during a stagecoach robbery.  Ranse had come to the defense of a widow when Valance tried to take some sentimental jewelry; it’s of note the small part of the widow was played by Ford regular Anna Lee, whose work with the director went back to How Green Was My Valley (1941) two decades earlier.

Andy Devine, John Wayne, Jeanette Nolan, John Qualen, Vera Miles, James Stewart, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Andy Devine, John Wayne, Jeanette Nolan, John Qualen, Vera Miles, James Stewart

Link, the sheriff, is terrified of Valance and doesn’t do anything to stop his reign of terror in the town. Tom and Ransom represent two different points of view on how to stop Valance: physical might or the law?

The two men, incidentally, are also eventually in conflict over Hallie, as they each love her.

Matters finally come to a head regarding Valance when Ranse picks up a gun after Valance badly beats Ransom’s friend Peabody (Edmond O’Brien), the alcoholic newspaper publisher. 

Lee Marvin, Lee VanCleef, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Lee Marvin, Lee VanCleef

Ranse kills Valance in a street shootout and is celebrated by the town as a hero, but initially unbeknownst to Ranse, it’s actually Tom’s rifle which killed the villain.  With Tom’s urging, the truth does not come out and Ranse goes on to a storied political career, with Hallie at his side.

As Ranse finishes recounting the true story at movie’s end,  the newspaper editor (Carleton Young) tears up the real story, saying “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

Lee Marvin, James Stewart, John Wayne, Edmond OBrien, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Lee Marvin, James Stewart, John Wayne, Edmond OBrien

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is an unusual Western in some ways, starting with the fact that the beautiful Arizona and Utah landscapes we associate with Ford are not in evidence here. Doniphon’s ranch is in a nondescript area, filmed outside Los Angeles, and the key stagecoach robbery appears to have been filmed in a soundstage.

Despite the lack of scenery, some of the compositions, filmed in black and white by William H. Clothier, are incredibly striking and artistic.  There’s a fabulous moment I loved when the camera pulls all the way around the saloon bar, panning various faces.  And take a look at the saloon shot below, which is pure Western art.

Saloon, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

Returning to unusual aspects of the film, the legendary Wayne, billed first after a coin flip with Stewart, has a presence which lingers over the film, yet is far less seen – and less central to the story – than Stewart’s Ranse Stoddard.

Wayne’s Doniphon is a symbol for the passing of the traditional West, as might, via strong men with guns, made way for civilization.  Perhaps Wayne’s less central character was also an inadvertent symbol for what was happening to Western films. Just a couple years later the genre would receive a jolt from Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood’s “spaghetti” Westerns.

Stewart’s Ranse threads a needle, being “citified” yet never cowardly.  Time and again he stands up for others at great personal risk.  The scene where Ranse slugs Tom after Tom plays a prank on him is a great moment, as one senses dawning respect, rather than anger, coming from Tom.

Among the superb supporting cast, I couldn’t help thinking that Edmond O’Brien was basically playing Thomas Mitchell playing a Ford character.  He’s great, while not very original.  Mitchell, who won an Oscar for Ford’s Stagecoach (1939), died in December 1962, just a few months after the release of Liberty Valance.

Miles had played Laurie in Ford’s The Searchers (1956), and she’s moving here in a slightly more mature role as the uneducated, feisty Hallie.  John Qualen, who played her father in the earlier movie, plays her father again here, with Jeanette Nolan as her mother.

Hallie’s unspoken regret throughout the film, especially at the end, gives the viewer much to consider.  One senses she loved both Tom and Ranse, but could only choose one.

James Stewart, Vera Miles, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

Hallie gave up not just Tom, but her “roots,” to wander the world as far as the “Court of St. James.”  The viewer isn’t left thinking she was unhappy with Ranse, exactly, yet one wonders if she might have ultimately been happier remaining in her hometown with the man who proved in countless ways that he loved her, even at great cost to himself.

John Wayne, Vera Miles, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

I also especially loved Ford regular Woody Strode, moving here as Tom’s loyal friend. He is elevated beyond being a mere “sidekick” with key moments such as saving Tom’s life from a fire and tossing him the rifle used to shoot Liberty Valance.

Woody Strode, John Wayne, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Woody Strode, John Wayne

The cast also includes Lee Van Cleef, Strother Martin, Ken Murray, Willis Bouchey, Denver Pyle, Jack Pennick, and O.Z. Whitehead.  The screenplay was written by James Warner Bellah and Willis Goldbeck from a story by Dorothy M. Johnson.

To enrich  my viewing experience, I ordered the brand-new book on the movie from the University of New Mexico Press Reel West series.  The book, also called The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, was written by Chris Yogerst, author of several other books I’ve enjoyed.

Man Who Shot Liberty Valance Book

I’ve just begun reading it, and other than several typos – unfortunately very common in today’s publishing world – it’s of the caliber I’ve come to expect from both the author and the Reel West series.  I’m finding it an interesting and informative read which is adding to my greater appreciation of the film. 

One of the bits of trivia in the book I love most: The robbery scene was filmed first to hide Marvin’s swollen nose behind a kerchief; it had accidentally been broken by Martin Milner during a shoot for TV’s Route 66!

Both the movie and the “making of” book are recommended.

…

– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

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

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Silents are Golden: A Closer Look at The Gold Rush (1925)

Posted on January 28, 2026 by Lea Stans

A Closer Look At The Gold Rush (1925)

Charlie Chaplin The Gold Rush
Charlie Chaplin, The Gold Rush

By the mid-1920s, Charlie Chaplin had spent nearly a decade being one of cinema’s most beloved performers, a familiar face to movie lovers across the globe. His humor and performance style transcended cultural boundaries and set standards for many comedians to follow. He was also coming to a crossroads. Having concentrated mainly on short films since starting his own production company, he had challenged himself and scored wild successes with his first two features: the World War I comedy Shoulder Arms (1918) and his heart-tugging The Kid (1921) co-starring little Jackie Coogan. With the industry changing and fellow top comedians like Harold Lloyd switching exclusively to features, it seemed time for the great Chaplin to follow suit.

Naturally, Chaplin first insisted on following the beat of his own drum. In 1923 he started releasing films through United Artists, which he had co-founded along with fellow major names Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith. Much to the surprise of many, his first UA product was the drama A Woman of Paris (1923) starring Edna Purviance, where he only appeared in a brief cameo. While it received critical praise, many of the Little Tramp’s fans were understandably disappointed. It was clear that Chaplin’s next film needed to be a return to form, and it needed to be extraordinary.

Charlie Chaplin The Gold Rush dancehall

The seeds for The Gold Rush (1925) were planted in the fall of 1923, around the time A Woman of Paris was released. While visiting his friends Fairbanks and Pickford at their stately home, Chaplin was looking at some stereoscope pictures (early 3D images) and was drawn to a particular image of gold prospectors struggling in an endless line through the snowy Chilkoot Pass. Later on he was further intrigued by a book on the ill-fated Donner party, which had infamously resorted to cannibalism after being snowbound in the Sierra Nevada in 1846. Chaplin took these unlikely sources as sparks of inspiration for a new comedy. He’d always felt that laughter was one of mankind’s greatest strengths in coping with sorrow or tragedy, and placing his resourceful Little Tramp in the harsh white North would both raise the stakes of the story and make the gags truly cathartic.

A famous 1898 image of Chilkoot Pass
A famous 1898 image of Chilkoot Pass.

Chaplin wasted little time crafting a story for his new film, initially called The Lucky Strike. His character, referred to as “The Lone Prospector,” is shown taking part in the Klondike Gold Rush when he gets lost in a blizzard. He’s forced to take shelter in a cabin alongside wanted criminal Black Larsen (played by Tom Murray) and fellow prospector Big Jim (played by Keystone veteran Mack Swain), where they’re soon faced with starvation. Nearly going mad, they resort to eating one of the Prospector’s shoes. After a series of fraught adventures involving an avalanche, the Prospector ends up at a nearby mining town where he becomes enchanted with a beautiful dance hall girl.

Initially the little-known Lillita McMurray, who’d had a bit part as the “Flirting Angel” in The Kid, was signed to be Chaplin’s leading lady. She was given the name Lita Grey and the press was allowed to think she was nineteen, but in reality, she was fifteen. Within a year she would discover she was pregnant and Chaplin would arrange a discreet marriage. He did an equally discreet search for a replacement leading lady, settling on the lovely brunette Georgia Hale.

Georgia Hale and Charlie Chaplin, The Gold Rush
Georgia Hale and Charlie Chaplin.

Starting production in early February 1924, Chaplin had hoped to shoot most of the Klondike scenes in the cold mountain town of Truckee, California, not far from the infamous Donner Pass. In the end only the famous long shots of the gold prospectors climbing up the snowy mountain pass were used–real-life recreations of the stereo gram that had intrigued Chaplin so much. The steep pathway was 2300 feet long with steps cut in the snow by professional ski jumpers. Equipment for recreating the mining camp at the mountain’s base had to be hauled nearly ten miles from the nearest railroad station. Employees of the Southern Pacific Railway were enlisted to help find extras, and in the end around 600 men would sign on to hike up the frigid pass.

The Gold Rush in the blizzard

The remoteness of the location and the real-life blizzards that were prone to coming through made for miserable location shooting, and by May Chaplin brought his company back to Los Angeles. Ironically, many of the scenes involving the freezing cabin and its snowy surrounding were shot in the intense July heat, with confetti, plaster, salt and flour standing in for the snow. A miniature icy mountain range was ingeniously created on the studio backlot with wood, chicken wire and burlap.

The Gold Rush house hanging off cliff

Other studio magic included the in-camera special effects, most notably the Big Jim’s hunger-induced hallucination of Chaplin transforming into a giant chicken. Chaplin would perform the same scene twice, once as the Prospector and once in the oversized chicken costume, making the same precise movements each time. The film would be rewound between takes and the “fade in” technique was used to smoothly morph the Prospector into the chicken. And there was certainly magic in some of the gags, especially Chaplin’s beloved “bread rolls” dance that, once seen, can’t be forgotten.

The Gold Rush was finished in the spring of 1925, shortly after Charlie and Lita’s son Charles Chaplin Junior was born. It had taken Chaplin two months to edit down from an incredible 230,000 feet of footage. The film, advertised as “a dramatic comedy,” had a sparkling premiere on June 26th at Grauman’s Egyptian Theatre in Los Angeles, attended by a parade of celebrities.

Charlie Chaplin, Roll Dance, The Gold Rush
Chaplin’s beloved “bread rolls” dance.

The film soon became a runaway success, reportedly grossing over $6 million–making it one of the top ten biggest box office hits of the silent era. When he began the production, Chaplin had hoped The Gold Rush would be the film he’d be remembered for. As he’s certainly an icon in his own right, in a sense, we could also say that his wish seems to have come true.

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–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

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

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

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Noir Nook: Quotable Noir, Part 3

Posted on January 26, 2026 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Noir Nook: Quotable Noir, Part 3

There are lots of things I love – old movie magazines, baking, nighttime soap operas (right now, I’m heavily into Knots Landing) – but nestled among all of these is tradition! And around these parts, it’s a new tradition for me to kick off the new year with some of the awesome lines that have been featured in our favorite shadowy features. So . . . happy new year and enjoy these quotable quotes of noir!

“Life in Loyalton is like sitting in a funeral parlor waiting for the funeral to begin.” Rosa Moline (Bette Davis) in Beyond the Forest (1949)

Quotable Noir, Beyond the Forest, Bette Davis
Bette Davis, Beyond the Forest

“You know what I do to squealers? I let ‘em have it in the belly so they can roll around a long time, thinkin’ it over.” Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark) in Kiss of Death (1947)

“There’s a kind of depravity in you, Sam.” Helen Trent (Claire Trevor) in Born to Kill (1947)

“Somebody’s going to shoot you, sooner or later.” Harold Vermilyea in Chicago Deadline (1949)

“You’re a mess, honey.” Madame Tanya (Marlene Dietrich) in Touch of Evil (1958)

QuotableNoir, Touch of Evil, Marlene Dietrich
Marlene Dietrich, Touch of Evil

“Some people can smell danger. Not me.” Michael O’Hara (Orson Welles) in The Lady from Shanghai (1948)

“We’ve got a lot – but we haven’t got everything. I want what she’s got. All of it. I want her house, her name, her man. And I want them now. Tonight.” Daphne (Hazel Brooks) in Sleep, My Love (1948)

“Anybody who puts the finger on me is living on borrowed time.” Harry Coulton (Lawrence Tierney) in Shakedown (1950)

“What a witches’ sabbath . . . so incredibly evil. I didn’t think such a place existed except in my own imagination – like a half-remembered dream. Anything could happen here, at any moment.” Poppy (Gene Tierney) in The Shanghai Gesture (1941)

Quotable Noir, Shield for Murder, Edmond O'Brien
Edmond O’Brien, Shield for Murder

“One more crack like that and I’ll slap your kisser off ya. Believe me?” Barney Nolan (Edmond O’Brien) in Shield for Murder (1954)

“There’s one good thing in being a widow, isn’t there? You don’t have to ask your husband for money.” Mrs. Poetter (Frances Carson) in Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

“You’ll discover as you grow older that sometimes a man does things he’d prefer not to do.” Leo Morse (Thomas Gomez) in Force of Evil (1948)

“I’ve wanted to laugh in your face ever since I first met you. You’re old, ugly, and I’m sick of you – sick, sick, sick!” Kitty March (Joan Bennett) in Scarlet Street (1945)

Quotable Noir, Force of Evil, John Garfield and Thomas Gomez
John Garfield and Thomas Gomez, Force of Evil

“Don’t disappoint me and turn out to be honest.” Vince Phillips (John Hoyt) in Loan Shark (1952)

“Doesn’t it ever enter a man’s head that a woman can do without him?” Lily Stevens (Ida Lupino) in Road House (1948)

“What’s it worth to you to turn your considerable talents back to the gutter you crawled out of?” Carl Evello (Paul Stewart) in Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

Quotable Noir, No Way Out, Linda Darnell and Stephen McNally
Linda Darnell and Stephen McNally, No Way Out

“He’s as shifty as smoke, but I love him.” Moe Williams (Thelma Ritter) in Pickup on South Street (1953)

“Don’t ask me no favors – I can’t be bribed, see. Besides, you ain’t got enough money to bribe me.” Hodges (J.C. Flippen) in Brute Force (1947)

“I used to live in a sewer. Now I live in a swamp. I’ve come up in the world.” Edie Johnson (Linda Darnell) in No Way Out (1950)

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– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

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

Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages.
If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:

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Silver Screen Standards: Elsa Lanchester

Posted on January 22, 2026 by Jennifer Garlen

Silver Screen Standards: Elsa Lanchester

Thanks to her role as the nameless title character in Bride of Frankenstein (1935), Elsa Lanchester has a special place in horror movie history as the most famous of the female Universal monsters, even though she only appears in the film for a few minutes. Hidden under makeup and wrapped up tight in bandages, Lanchester is as unrecognizable as Boris Karloff is in his own Creature guise, and, like Karloff, Lanchester is a brilliant performer capable of much more nuanced performances than the one for which she is best remembered. We get a better glimpse of Lanchester’s talent in her equally brief role as the author of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley, in the scene that opens the picture, but there are so many other films where we can more fully appreciate her unique screen presence. I’m a big fan of character actresses, and Elsa Lanchester is truly one of the greatest. She brings interest and charm to even the smallest supporting role, and, with a film career that spanned from the 1920s to 1980, there are plenty of performances to savor.

Elsa Lanchester Bride of Frankenstein
Elsa Lanchester became a horror icon thanks to her appearance as the title character in Bride of Frankenstein (1935).

Elsa Lanchester was born in London in 1902 to a family who lived outside the social norms of the time. She started training in dance as a child and moved to theater after World War I. Lanchester acted, sang, performed cabaret, and evolved into a serious stage actress, with her marriage in 1929 to fellow actor Charles Laughton creating a powerhouse duo who would appear together on stage and screen many times. The couple became US citizens in 1950 but continued to work in the UK as well as Hollywood. Although Lanchester published a book about her life with Laughton in 1938 and an autobiography in 1983, questions still remain about the true nature of their marriage and their lack of children, but the pair remained together until Laughton’s death in 1962. Lanchester herself died in Los Angeles in 1986 at the age of 84. Although for decades it was believed that Lanchester’s cremated remains had been scattered in the Pacific Ocean, in 2025 she was discovered to be interred at Valhalla Memorial Park in Los Angeles, and a celebration of her life took place at the cemetery on October 28, 2025, to mark her 123rd birthday and the unveiling of a new grave marker.

Lanchester and Laughton couple
Elsa Lanchester and Charles Laughton married in 1929 and remained together until his death in 1962.

Lanchester appears in several movies with Laughton, and those pairings are a perfect place to start an exploration of her greatest roles. The two share some of the lightest moments in the 1933 biopic, The Private Life of Henry VIII, with Laughton as the demanding monarch and Lanchester as Anne of Cleves, the one wife smart enough to extricate herself from his lethal pursuit of a male heir. In The Big Clock (1948), Lanchester brings clever comic relief to a tense noir thriller as a quirky artist, while Laughton plays the villain opposite Ray Milland’s ensnared hero. For the pairing that gives the two the most screen time together, see Witness for the Prosecution (1957), in which Lanchester plays a nurse who relentlessly pesters Laughton’s ailing barrister even as he tries to get to the bottom of a twisted case of homicide. Both Lanchester and Laughton earned Oscar nominations for their performances in the Agatha Christie classic, she for Best Supporting Actress and he for Best Actor, but neither won. Their other films together include Potiphar’s Wife (1931), Rembrandt (1936), The Beachcomber, also known as Vessel of Wrath (1938), Tales of Manhattan (1942), and Forever and a Day (1943).

Lanchester and Laughton Witness for the Prosecution
Lanchester and Laughton have great scenes together in Witness for the Prosecution (1957).

While her movies with Laughton are great fun, Lanchester also shines in her solo appearances. Her roles tend to be lively oddballs, often relatives, servants, or other supporting characters who inhabit the lives the of the protagonists. Some of my favorites from this category include The Ghost Goes West (1935), Ladies in Retirement (1941), Lassie Come Home (1942), The Spiral Staircase (1946), Bell, Book and Candle (1958), and Murder by Death (1976). Lanchester has an especially good part in Ladies in Retirement, in which she plays one of Ida Lupino’s two bizarre and difficult sisters. She also gets ample screen time in Bell, Book and Candle as Kim Novak’s aunt and fellow witch, Queenie, a character who helped to inspire the many hilarious female relatives who populate Samantha’s extended family on the classic TV series, Bewitched (1964-1972). Toward the end of her career, Lanchester became a bit of a regular in Disney live action pictures, with small roles in Mary Poppins (1964), That Darn Cat! (1965), Blackbeard’s Ghost (1968), and Rascal (1969), but my favorite of her late films is the wacky Neil Simon comedy, Murder by Death, in which Lanchester plays a parody of Miss Marple in company with other great stars like Alec Guinness, David Niven, Maggie Smith, Peter Falk, and Peter Sellers.

Elsa Lanchester Bell Book Candle
Lanchester plays Aunt Queenie in the supernatural romance, Bell, Book and Candle (1958).

If you want to seek out even more classic Elsa Lanchester movies, try Come to the Stable (1949), for which she earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress, or Passport to Destiny (1944), in which she actually gets to be the protagonist for once and not just a supporting player. Charles Laughton enjoyed his only win for the Best Actor Oscar for The Private Life of Henry VIII, with additional nominations for Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) and Witness for the Prosecution, but I particularly love his performances in The Canterville Ghost (1944) and Hobson’s Choice (1954). For a really different movie featuring Lanchester, you might try the 1971 horror hit, Willard, but that depends on how you feel about 70s horror and homicidal rats.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

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

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

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