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
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, 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, CA
In 1940, she resided at the 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.
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.
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, 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.
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
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.
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.
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).
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
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
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 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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
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 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.
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 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.
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.
Ellen Drew
was born Esther Loretta Ray on November 23, 1914, in Kansas City, Missouri. Her
father, Joseph, was a barber and her mother, Norine, was a homemaker. She also
had an older brother named Arden.
In 1919, the
family relocated to Chicago, Illinois, where she attended Francis W. Parker
School.
When her
parents separated in 1931, she worked several jobs. She lied about her age to
work at Marshall Field department store, where she worked in the accounting
department for six months. She then worked at Grant’s five-and-dime in
Englewood, Illinois, selling costume jewelry and baby clothes. At around the
same time, the manager of Grant’s entered her into a beauty contest through the
Englewood Kiwanis Club, where she won the title of “Miss Englewood.”
She
ultimately moved to Hollywood with two friends to become an actress, with
encouragement from her friends and mother. While in Hollywood, she was working
at Brown’s Confectionary Shop near Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. There, she
developed an alternative to the hot fudge sundae called the “Cinderella,” made
with peaches, strawberries, pineapple, roasted almonds, sherbet, vanilla ice
cream, and whipped cream. While working at the ice cream shop, she was noticed
by customer and actor William Demarest. He aided her in her attempt to join the
film industry, though she initially turned down his assistance because she had
just begun a romance with make-up artist Fred Wallace at the shop. Wallace
became her first of four husbands, with the marriage producing a son: David
“Skipper.”
Ultimately,
she reconnected with Demarest to pursue an acting career. As she entered film
acting, she adopted the stage name of Terry Ray; however, the name was already
in use by a male actor. In a 1937 newspaper photograph, the two are seen
drawing lots from a hat. Actor Terry Ray became Terry Rains and actress Terry
Ray (Ellen Drew) kept her name the same. She later tried to use the name Erin
Drew after years of also working under her birth name. Ultimately, she became
known as Ellen Drew when her career was in full swing at Paramount Pictures.
Drew
performed on the radio in programs such as Suspense,Silver Theater,
and the Kate Smith Hour.
Drew could
be spotted alongside Bing Crosby in Sing You Sinners (1938) and with George
Raft in The Lady’s from Kentucky (1939). She also worked with the likes
of Dick Powell in Christmas in July (1940) and Johnny O’Clock
(1947); Glenn Ford in The Man from Colorado (1948); and Vincent Price in
The Baron of Arizona (1950). In addition, she was incredibly
active during the war effort, traveling for weeks at a time to England.
When her movie career declined in the 1950s, she turned to television.
One of her final roles was in a Perry Mason
episode, entitled “The Case of the Larcenous Lady.”
Ellen Drew on Perry Mason
Drew was married a total of four times to Fred Wallace (1935-1940);
screenwriter Sidney “Sy” Bartlett (1949-1949); advertising executive William T.
Walker (1951-1967); and Motorola executive James Edward Herbert (1971-1976).
All marriages ended in divorce.
She passed away on December 3, 2003, in Palm Desert, California, from a
liver illness at age 89. She was cremated and her ashes were scattered at sea.
Today, there are some tributes to Drew. In 1920, she lived with her
parents and older brother at 3 Fountain Ct., Kansas City, Missouri. In 1930,
they lived at 6604 Normal Ave., Chicago, Illinois. None of these homes remain.
Frances W. Parker School remains in operation at 330 W. Webster Ave.,
Chicago, Illinois.
Frances W. Parker School
By 1950, she lived at 527 N. Maple Dr., Beverly Hills, California. This
home stands.
527 N. Maple Dr., Beverly Hills, CA
In 1955, she resided at 9470 Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills,
California, which no longer stands.
Drew is honored with a Golden Palm Star on the Palm Springs Walk of Stars in
Palm Springs, California.
Drew also has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, honoring her work in motion pictures. It is located at 6901 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles, California.
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.
If I created a film trailer for The Monolith Monsters, it would have some of the movie’s astonishing quotes flash across the screen with extra exclamation points.
“Her hands are turning to stone!!”
“He’s been welded into a solid mass!!”
“Local geologist turns to rock!!”
“Looks more like a petrified forest than a town!!”
Who wouldn’t be interested in seeing that 1957 B-movie after reading those exciting quotes? The ability to turn a person into stone – like Medusa, the gorgon of Greek mythology, can do with a single look – is one of the most awesome evil powers ever.
But we have to wonder how a monolith – defined by Merriam Webster as “a single great stone often in the form of an obelisk or column” – can pull off that feat, let alone be a threat to the world’s population.
For the answers, don’t look to Greek mythology, but to the skies and the fertile imaginations of B-movie wizard Jack Arnold and Robert M. Fresco who are credited with the film’s story (they’re the same team responsible for the great Tarantula). The screenplay is by Fresco and Norman Jolley; director is John Sherwood (The Creature Walks Among Us).
They’re coming! A rainstorm “feeds” slabs of rock that grow to towering heights and destroy everything in their path in The Monolith Monsters.
The monoliths are not from this world (of course) as we learn in the nearly 2-minute opening voiceover that dramatically explains how objects from space have pierced our atmosphere “from time immemorial,” forming craters that will be explored from scientists around the world.
Sure enough, a meteorite crashes into a desolate California desert, creating a large crater as it splinters into hundreds of pieces. Somehow it goes unnoticed by the nearby town until geologist Ben Gilbert (played by Phil Harvey) stops to cool his overheated radiator with water. Intrigued by the shiny, black rocks scattered about, Ben takes one but doesn’t see that the water dripping down through his radiator has left similar rocks “smoking.”
Les Treymane, left, Trevor Bardette, Lola Albright, Grant Williams and William Flaherty use their combined skills to battle The Monolith Monsters.
Back in the lab at the District Office for the Department of the Interior in the small California town of San Angelo, Ben is stumped by the rock, even calling it “weird” to newspaper publisher Martin Cochrane (played by always welcomed familiar face Les Treymane). It definitely doesn’t belong, Ben says.
“The desert is full of things that don’t belong,” says our news guy who doesn’t feel he belongs either. “What good is a newspaperman in a town where nothing happens?”
Uh-oh. Just like a sports announcer jinxes a player by saying he hasn’t missed a kick all season, we know something bad is about to happen in San Angelo. It’s helped along by an overnight storm that blows through the lab’s open windows, knocking a beaker of distilled water on the rock and creating that ominous smoke again. (You will be surprised at how much heavy rain there is in this desert town.)
Head geologist Dave Miller (Grant Williams) arrives in the morning to find the lab destroyed, black rocks everywhere and Ben’s hard dead body – and we mean hard. Rock solid. Petrified.
Everyone, including the doctor, is stumped. Could it have something to do with that weird rock Ben brought to the lab? That sets off Dave’s girlfriend Cathy (Lola Albright), who shares that one of her students took a similar rock during their field trip to the desert. (To be honest, even Dave thought that was a strange spot for a field trip.)
Little Ginny (Linda Scheley) thinks she’s doing a good thing by cleaning her dirty rock in The Monolith Monsters.
They race to check on Ginny and her family, but we know they’ll be too late. We saw her wash her rock with water after mom said it was too dirty to bring into the house. By the time they arrive, the house is destroyed and Ginny’s hand is turning black from being petrified.
Much time is spent in labs and medical offices as our geologist Dave, teacher Cathy, two doctors, a professor and police chief look for answers to save Ginny and figure out what’s happening. That means it’s time for the mumbo-jumbo scenes we look forward to in sci-fi films. We’ll learn about rock compositions (“you can see the strata!”), silicates (chert, feldspar, pyroxene!), “negative cleavage” of the minerals (I have no idea, but it sounds equally important and funny), and the natural role silicone plays in humans.
Hundreds of strange black rocks are found around a destroyed home in The Monolith Monsters.
A cup of bad coffee is the unlikely key to solving the mystery. Just a tiny amount of water – or coffee – helps a small rock self-replicate and grow into a giant monolith that will ultimately fall to the ground and shatter into pieces, starting the process again. (As we’re urgently told, by the third cycle of this happening, there will be a million rocks!) Each time it expands into a larger geographic area and in this case, it’s headed toward San Angelo.
And so is another rainstorm – time is running out.
A rock starts to foam and grow into an oblong shape after it comes in contact with coffee.
If you’ve seen Jack Arnold’s Tarantula, a film he directed in 1955, you’ll remember that awesome scene of the giant arachnid slowly approaching the town. It’s a striking visual that’s worth repeating as it is with the monoliths. And that makes me think of how The Monolith Monsters had much more potential than it could ever reach on a tiny budget and with 1957 technology.
While it’s still fun to watch, I wish a modern filmmaker with respect for the genre would remake The Monolith Monsters and give the out-of-the-box idea the treatment it deserves. The visual of a million black, shiny rocks taking over the world deserves to be seen. The hero, of course, would have to be played by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. He’s big enough in size, personality and stature to fight the monoliths.
I can see the ads now: “It’s The Rock against the rocks in a battle to save the world!”
A BIT OF TRIVIA
A location doesn’t need to be real to be reused. The fictional California Medical Research Institute was also a “character” in director Jack Arnold’s The Incredible Shrinking Man, released earlier in 1957. It also starred Grant Williams.
And a set can be reused as often as necessary. Multiple sci-fi and horror films of the 1950s had a quaint town that would be in peril from an approaching creature. The set was often Courthouse Square on Universal’s backlot. Among the many films it appears in are The Monolith Monsters, Tarantula and It Came from Outer Space.
Hey, is that? Yes it is.
William Schallert (best known for The Patty Duke Show) brings levity to the film as a meteorologist with a penchant for jargon (“the duration of precipitation”) and rolls of weather maps on his desk in a short but memorable scene.
Child actor Paul Petersen is newspaper boy Bobby who rides
off on his bike to spread the word of the impending disaster.
Troy Donahue is hidden under his ball cap playing a dynamite expert, but you’ll recognize his voice in the four lines he speaks.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is a freelance editor and writer who also previously worked 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
In June 2024 I somewhat impulsively signed up for a Kickstarter
project to bring a pair of long-unseen silent Tom Tyler Westerns to Blu-ray.
The Kickstarter was started by Tom Tyler fan extraordinaire Mary Della Valle, creator of the website Aventuras de Tom Tyler.
One of the set’s films, The Man From Nevada (1929),
was in the library of the HMH Moving Image Archive at the University of
Southern California, while four of five reels for The Law of the Plains
(1929) were at the Library of Congress.
The original nitrate prints were scanned in 2K by the USC
School of Cinematic Arts (for The Man From Nevada) and Ben Model’s Undercrank Productions
(for The Law of the Plains), with the set of both films ultimately released
by Undercrank.
I was especially glad I signed up for the Kickstarter when
Tom Tyler’s niece, Sandra Slepski, coincidentally appeared at the Lone
Pine Film Festival in October 2024, just a few months after I supported the
Kickstarter.
Slepski was interviewed by Henry C. Parke at a screening of
one of the movies Tyler had made in Lone Pine, Rip Roarin’ Buckaroo
(1936). I quite enjoyed the movie and became
eager to see more of his films.
Sandra Slepski and Henry Parke
In her interview Sandra shared insights into her uncle’s
life; he was born to Lithuanian immigrants in New York, birth name Vincent
Markowski, and raised in Michigan. He aspired to be an actor from an early age,
moving to Hollywood and working hard to lose his Lithuanian accent.
Renamed Tom Tyler, he starred in many silent and sound
“B” Westerns, not to mention the popular serial Adventures of
Captain Marvel (1941).
Tyler also took small but memorable roles in more
prestigious “A” level Westerns, including John Ford’s Stagecoach
(1939), where he played villainous Luke Plummer, and Ford’s She Wore a
Yellow Ribbon (1949), where he was cast as Cpl. Mike Quayne. In the latter film Quayne was the soldier
operated on in a moving wagon during a memorable storm sequence.
Late in his life Tom was beset by ill health, caused by an
incurable autoimmune disease, and moved in with Sandra’s family in Michigan, so
she knew him well when she was young. He was only 50 when he passed away.
Tom was buried in
Detroit, Michigan. A beautiful gravestone depicts Tom as a young man in cowboy
gear.
For those who would like to learn more about Tom Tyler, a
biographical sketch of the actor is posted at Lone Pine’s Museum of Western
Film History website.
I first watched The Man From Nevada, a 48-minute film
originally released in August 1929. It
was directed by J.P. McGowan, shot by Hap Depew, and written by Sally Winters,
all of whom also worked on the other film in the set, The Law of the Plains.
The Man From Nevada has a fairly simple plot, in
which Jack Carter (Tyler) intervenes when shiftless Jim Watkins (Alfred
Hewston) and his family are threatened by
a claim jumper (Al Ferguson).
Jack has taken a shine to Jim’s pretty adult daughter
Virginia (Natalie Joyce), who is responsible for her three motherless brothers
(played by Kip Cooper, Godfrey Craig, and Frank Crane).
Tyler is quite personable, and with such a short running
time the movie is packed with story and action, notably including a sequence
with a baby in a runaway wagon.
Much of the movie was filmed outdoors; I’ve been trying to
find out the location, as I didn’t recognize it as one of the standard
locations used on many “B” Westerns shot in Southern California.
Joyce, Ferguson, and William “Bill” Nolte also appeared with
Tyler in The Law of the Plains, and the movie’s director, J.P. McGowan,
even took an acting role in this one, playing the murderous villain.
Tyler has a dual role in The Law of the Plains, initially playing O’Brien, a former Marine ranching somewhere in South America. About to sell his ranch, he’s instead murdered by Seagrue (McGowan) as O’Brien’s young son Dan (Robert Parrish) watches.
Fast forward in time and Tyler then plays the adult Dan, a
cowboy whose trail drive brings him back to his former home. Seagrue is still
running the ranch he stole from Dan’s father, and, having recognized Dan, he intends
to kill him too.
Dan not only battles Seagrue, he saves Seagrue’s niece
Natalie (Joyce) from being forced to marry a man she doesn’t love.
It sounds like melodrama, and it is, but this 55-minute film
is well done, with plenty of outdoor filming and action. One reel is missing,
but the story is filled in with photo stills and narrative cards, which fill
the gap nicely.
One of the most interesting aspects of The Law of the
Plains was that the actor who played Dan as a child, Robert Parrish, grew
up to be an Oscar-winning editor (for 1947’s Body and Soul which starred
John Garfield) and then a director.
Parrish directed Westerns including Saddle the Wind
(1948) with Robert Taylor and The Wonderful Country (1959) with Robert
Mitchum. Parrish also directed a good
Joel McCrea movie filmed in England, Shoot First (1953), aka Rough
Shoot.
The prints of both movies in this Blu-ray set were
remarkably good for minor “B” films of the ‘20s which have been out of the
public eye for many years. Both films in this set have new scores by Ben Model
of Undercrank Productions.
The disc also includes a short yet informative introduction
to Tom Tyler.
I found these quite entertaining and encourage anyone who enjoys silent films or “off the beaten path” Westerns to give them a try. If a Volume 2 of Tyler films were ever to be released, I would definitely buy it!
…
– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.
I’m happy to say that this is my 100th
column for Classic Movie Hub! It’s hard to believe I’ve been a columnist here
for several years now, covering this niche era that fascinates me to no end.
I’ve enjoyed covering a wide variety of silent film topics for you all and hope
you continue checking out my columns in the future!
1925 was a very important year in cinema
history, a year when multiple silent classics hit the theaters: The Gold
Rush! The Lost World! The Phantom of the Opera! Stars like
Rudolph Valentino, Clara Bow and Harold Lloyd were in their prime, and
Hollywood had an impressive roster of directors such as Clarence Brown, Ernest
Lubitch, and King Vidor. 1925 was right in the thick of the golden age of
moviegoing: in the U.S. alone, tens of millions of Americans flocked to the
theaters each and every week.
Is it possible to figure out the top ten films
of this seminal year? As I cautioned in my columns about the biggest box office
successes of 1923 and 1924, silent era box office statistics are tough to
decipher since many theaters didn’t keep exact records. The following figures
should be considered “generally agreed-upon estimates” rather than “absolute
facts”–although it’s almost undeniable that the biggest box office hit of the
silent era came out in 1925. Almost!
10. East
Lynne–$1,100,00
This drama seems to have narrowly beat out
Eric von Stroheim’s The Merry Widow for a spot on this list. Based on an
older play that was so well-known it was basically a synonym for “melodrama,”
it starred Alma Rubens, Edmund Lowe, Lou Tellegen and a host of other respected
actors. Lavishly made, it was a serious adaptation of a work that had sometimes
been dismissed as a “hoary old chestnut” from Victorian times.
9. Little
Annie Rooney–$1,100,000
An icon of American cinema since the 1910s,
Mary Pickford was known for playing “little girl” characters but in the early
1920s had attempted to branch out into more mature roles. Audiences clamored
for her to play young characters again, so she–at age 33–obligingly starred as
the spunky Irish girl “Annie Rooney.” Her performance was as convincing as ever
and the film was loved by audiences and critics alike.
8. The
Lost World–$1,300,000
This adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle’s
beloved fantasy adventure marked a milestone in visual effects. While there
were a few dinosaur-themed films predating The Lost World, such as Gertie
the Dinosaur (1914) and The Ghost of Slumber Mountain (1918), this
was the first full-length feature where they were front and center. The stop
motion effects by Willis O’Brien were very impressive at the time and still
have a lot of personality today.
7.
Stella Dallas–$1,500,000
Actress Belle Bennett was handpicked by Samuel
Goldwyn to play the titular character of this drama, made for the lofty sum of
$700,000. Based on a novel, it was about the unlikely marriage of the wealthy
Stephen Dallas and the lower class Stella. Mocked by the uppercrust for her
tacky tastes and inability to assimilate to high society, Stella eventually
agrees to divorce Stephen. In time Stella’s faced with the choice to set aside
pride to give her only daughter a brighter future. Beautifully directed by Henry
King, it was a heartfelt film and a major hit in its day.
6. Don
Q, Son of Zorro–$1,600,000
The sequel to his megahit The Mark of Zorro
(1920), Don Q was Douglas Fairbanks’s return to swashbuckling form after
his ambitiously lavish, big-budget fantasy The Thief of Bagdad (1924).
Fairbanks played dual roles of both the dashing university student Cesar and
his father Don Diego de la Vega, a.k.a. Zorro. Well-crafted with some high
stakes twists and Fairbanks’s signature physical stunts, it was yet another
blockbuster under his belt.
5. The
Phantom of the Opera–$2,000,000
With its astonishing performance by Lon
Chaney, this Gothic horror classic was a huge success. Today this film is
legendary for the sudden, shocking reveal of the Phantom’s disfigured face,
which reportedly caused some audience members to faint. Chaney used makeup,
putty, wire and an old set of false teeth for his radical transformation, and
to this day his creation was certainly the most faithful to the original
novel’s description.
4. The
Freshman–$2,600,000
It wouldn’t be a “top ten films of the 1920s”
list without Harold Lloyd. With its story of a cheerfully naive freshman
determined to become a football star, The Freshman was Lloyd’s twist on
the college-themed comedies that were so popular at the time. It remains a
timeless, breezy mood-brightener that can appeal to young and old alike.
3. The
Gold Rush–$4,000,000
Chaplin’s The Gold Rush was as beloved
in its time as it still is today. An impeccable blend of comedy and tragedy set
during the Klondike gold rush, its budget of nearly $1,000,000 made it the most
expensive silent era comedy. It features some of Chaplin’s finest gags, such as
the famous sequence of his starving character dining lavishly on a boiled shoe.
2. Ben-Hur:
A Tale of the Christ–$9,000,000
Today the Charleton Heston version is more
familiar, but the 1925 Ben-Hur was a cinematic milestone and the silent
era’s most expensive film. Re-castings, accidents, and other mishaps dragged
out production over two years, with both actors and animals frequently being
put in harm’s way during the action scenes. Heavy promotion helped rocket the
film to the top of the box office, but production costs ironically kept it from
turning a profit.
1. The
Big Parade–$15,000,000-$20,000,000
Action, romance, humor, tragedy, heart–The
Big Parade had it all, and it also dared to critique the horrors of the war
that had so profoundly changed the world. An MGM feature, it starred John
Gilbert and Renee Adoree and was directed by King Vidor, who wanted to do “all
that was humanly possible to ensure accuracy on this picture.” A runaway
success, it grossed over $6 million domestically when it was first released and
would be reshown frequently in the following years. Its worldwide box office
gross would eventually top $15 million, with some sources reporting a gross in
excess of $20 million, a record for MGM until Gone With the Wind.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
Happy Holidays! It’s the most wonderful time of the year when
family and friends gather, eat lots of food and exchange gifts that say “I
care.”
But not everyone is so lucky and may have to depend on the kindness of strangers to bring them holiday joy. For the kids at the Home for Orphans and Destitute Children, that person is Mrs. Rosie Forrest (“call me Aunt Roo”), who hosts an annual holiday party/sleepover for 10 lucky youngsters at her mansion, Forrest Grange (the kids call it the Gingerbread House).
Shelley Winters loves to entertain children in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?
Sounds wonderful for the children except that this is happening in the 1971 holiday horror film Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? And once we realize something isn’t right, we fear for the kids. It stars Shelley Winters as Aunt Roo, Ralph Richardson as a “medium” and young Mark Lester as one of the orphans. (Note: though the film title is “Auntie” Roo, she asks the children to call her Aunt Roo.)
I had never seen the film and a quick search said it was
loosely based on Hansel and Gretel. That’s not the spoiler you would
expect it to be so I’m glad I watched it.
The orphans are told to stop calling Aunt Roo’s home “the Gingerbread House,” even though it looks like one.
Yes, the film’s main setting is a large Victorian
gingerbread house. And yes, one of the main characters can recite the fairy tale
by heart. But there’s more going on here.
From the start, we’re given information we don’t quite know
what to do with. In a room filled with creepy dolls and puppets, Aunt Roo – glamorous
in a tiara and evening gown – is lovingly singing to her sleeping daughter. Or is
that what we’re really seeing?
Not even two minutes into the film and the tone abruptly
shifts to one of horror as thunder booms, a storm surges and a majestically
atmospheric score written by Kenneth V. Jones sets the mood. It’s a wonderful opening for a horror film.
Mr. Benton (Ralph Richardson) quickly arrives for his regular series of seances with Aunt Roo who is desperately trying to contact her missing daughter by whatever means necessary. The storm seems like a perfect backdrop to reach out to the other side, Aunt Roo says, and sure enough we’ll hear tapping in the house and a voice calling out. It won’t be the only time.
Creepy butler Albie (played by Michael Gothard) finds siblings Christopher (Mark Lester) and Katy (Chloe Franks) hiding at Aunt Roo’s holiday party in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?.
The next day is the holiday sleepover and the children are taken to the mansion but they aren’t alone: Two other orphans have stowed away to attend the party. They are Christopher (Mark Lester) and his little sister Katy (Chloe Franks). The camera loves these beautiful kids with their big eyes and innocent faces. Generous Aunt Roo lets them stay. “There’s always enough room for children at Forrest Grange,” she says.
Aunt Roo welcomes orphans into her festively decorated home and they don’t seem to mind the gingerbread cookies look like the abominable snowman.
It’s a marvelous Christmas Eve party where kids eat gingerbread cookies, listen to holiday music and are read The Night Before Christmas by Aunt Roo. Then they’re off to bed waiting for Santa while the adults have another séance.
Angelic-looking orphan Katy (Chloe Franks) draws the interest of Aunt Roo?
Little Katy, who has been awakened by calls of “Katherine, come to us,” interrupts the séance at a most dramatic moment. “I heard talking, they were calling,” Katy says in her adorable voice sounding and looking like the missing Katherine. (We can see where this is going, right?)
Christopher has followed his sister but stops to investigate sounds of tapping and talking coming from inside a locked room. When Aunt Roo shows him there’s nobody there, he doesn’t believe it and neither do we. (We know what we saw and heard.)
Christmas comes and the kids are overjoyed with gifts from Aunt Roo who truly loves to make the children happy. (Still, you’ll wonder, can we trust her?) She’ll also sing for them and let them play outside where the curious Christopher and Katy discover a scary room in a barn.
It’s where Aunt Roo’s husband, a magician, stored everything for his shows including a guillotine that the kids think is a toy. Guess again. (Think of the room as an amusement park fun house with strange sounds, decapitated heads, inanimate objects that move and figures that will leap out from the dark. It’s pretty scary.)
Has the phrase “child’s play” ever been more dangerous than when Christopher (Mark Lester) and Katy (Chloe Frank) play around with a guillotine in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?
When it’s time for the kids to return to the orphanage, Katy can’t be found but no one other than her brother seems concerned. Christopher heard Aunt Roo tempting his sister with promises of a new home and of fattening her up like the witch does in Hansel and Gretel.
There’s already so much going on by this point that the
viewer has options on where they think the story is going. We’ve got seances,
skeletons, a creepy butler, a mean headmistress, a gingerbread house (including
a disturbing miniature version in a child’s room), hidden passages (always a
favorite) and a kid with an overactive imagination to keep it all going.
Don’t forget the unexplained tapping and crying, visions of a woman shrouded in black and missing people.
Christopher’s (Mark Lester) overactive imagination goes into hyper-drive as Aunt Roo (Shelley Winter) prepares dinner in Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?
When you think you have it figured out, there’s always another dribble of information that changes your perceptions. Is Aunt Roo a mother in mourning we should pity? A killer to fear? Or just an eccentric? Can she be all or none of those? What about that strange butler Albie (Michael Gothard)? Is he just weird, an opportunist, perhaps a crook or worse? And what’s up with the character identified as the “Pigman” in the credits (played by Hugh Griffith) who delivers fresh meat to the estate?
It’s easy to wonder if Christopher is right about the secrets of the Gingerbread House and that Aunt Roo is the evil witch from Hansel and Gretel. But are we letting our imaginations get the best of us like Christopher does? If we are, I say let it. That’s what movies are for.
So get some gingerbread cookies, pour a cup of hot cocoa and join Aunt Roo and the children for the holidays.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer in Buffalo, N.Y. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a member and board chair of the Classic Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo chapter of TCM Backlot and led the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs. She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto or on Bluesky at @watchingforever.bsky.social.
