Silents are Golden: Silent Directors – The Daring Tod Browning

Silents are Golden: Silent Directors – The Daring Tod Browning

Tod Browning

Known chiefly for his macabre masterpieces Dracula (1931) and Freaks (1932), Tod Browning is widely considered one of the all-time greatest horror film directors. But his cinematic roots stretched back much further than those early ‘30s talkies. Some people might know about his mid- to late-1920s collaborations with silent film legend Lon Chaney, but interestingly, he got his start even earlier than that.

Browning’s backstory is appropriately colorful, fitting for a man who was always fascinated by the bizarre. Born Charles Albert Browing Jr. in 1880 to a middle-class family in Louisville, Kentucky, during his childhood he developed a fascination with the circus. While his home life was comfortable it was too prosaic for the rebellious Charles, and at age 16 he decided to, quite literally, run away and join the circus. After working his way up from laborer and to sideshow barker to song-and-dance man, he also worked as a contortionist and a clown. One of his employers was none other than the Ringling Brothers circus. He also showed his flair for the macabre early on with his live burial act “The Living Hypnotic Corpse” and his adoption of the name “Tod Browning”– “Tod” being the German word for “death.”

In the mid-1900s Browning married Amy Louis Stevens but soon left her for another fascination: vaudeville. Working for several years in comedy and magic acts, he would also clown alongside comedian Charlies Murray in a sketch based on the comic strip characters Mutt and Jeff. By 1913, like many stage actors he had begun transitioning to the entirely new medium of film–and funnily enough, the future master of the grotesque would get his start in slapstick comedies.

Hired by the Biograph studio in New York, Browning was put to work in its “Komic Comedies” unit that was supervised by D.W. Griffith. His fellow performers included Fay Tincher, Max Davidson, Elmer Booth and Edward Dillon, who was also the director. Their fast paced schedule resulted in one comedy short a week, and Browning learned about the filmmaking process very quickly, ultimately deciding he wanted to start directing himself. 

A publicity image from the Komic Comedy A Flurry in Art (1915).

His first effort at directing is thought to be The Lucky Transfer (1915), about two robbers who accidentally give away the hiding place of their loot. But a tragic event in 1915 was certainly a strong influence on Browning’s future leanings towards the dark and grotesque. While driving drunk one night with friends Elmer Booth and George Siegmann, he collided with a railroad flat car loaded with steel rails. Booth was killed instantly, and both Browning and Siegmann were badly injured. After months of slow recovery Browning would turn to screenwriting, and he started directing again in 1917, his acting days now behind him. He would also marry Alice Watson (this marriage would last until her death in 1944).

He would lean heavily towards melodrama in his directing career, and themes of guilt, moral or sexual frustration, criminality, hypocrisy, and freakishness would pop up repeatedly. He directed films for Fine Arts/Triangle, Metro Pictures, and Bluebird Photoplays. With titles like The Jury of Fate (1917) and The Eyes of Mystery (1918), these films were consistently profitable and gave him the reputation of being a successful director. Moving over to Universal, where he would direct until 1923, some of his most popular films starred Priscilla Dean, often in “underworld dame” types of roles. Universal was also where Browning worked with the great Lon Chaney for the first time, starting with The Wicked Darling (1919). This would be followed a couple years later by Outside the Law (1921), where Chaney played a dual role of both a virtuous character and a villain. A highlight was a much-admired trick photography scene where Chaney’s villain character appeared to murder his virtuous counterpart.

Chaney in Outside the Law (1921).

Chaney, with his sensitive acting skills, flair for grotesque characters, and tough features that lent themselves well to crime stories, was an excellent match for Browning’s kind of films. When Universal’s vice president Irving Thalberg moved over to MGM, Chaney and Browning decided to follow him. The eight MGM films they made together are considered some of the finest of both their careers, the plots revolving around “freakish” characters, circuses, and more of those criminal underworlds.

A set still from the production of The Unholy Three (featuring Browning on the right).

Examples include The Unholy Three (1925), their first MGM film, which had Chaney playing a cross-dressing ventriloquist who teams up with a dwarf performer and a strongman to become jewel thieves–a decidedly eclectic start. In The Blackbird (1926) Chaney played a criminal known as “The Blackbird” who creates a saintly (and physically deformed) alter ego called “The Bishop.” The shocking The Unknown (1927), probably the best of the Browning/Chaney collaborations, presented Chaney as a circus performer in love with his beautiful assistant, who has a pathological fear of being embraced by men. He decides to have his arms amputated for her, but the results become tragic in more ways than one.

Chaney and Joan Crawford in The Unknown (1927).

Today, however, the most famous Browning/Chaney film also happens to be the most famous lost silent of all time: London After Midnight (1927). Chaney plays a detective investigating a murder at a London mansion. Events turn surreal when the bizarre “Man in the Beaver Hat” and a pale, goul-like woman take up residence in the abandoned mansion and start frightening the neighbors. Ah, but could there be a connection between the detective and the Man in the Beaver Hat? Much of the lost film’s mystique revolves around Chaney’s iconic spooky makeup, where he widened his eyes with wires and added shark-like teeth. While the film itself was tepidly reviewed back in the day, tantalizing stills of Chaney amid creepy, quasi-German Expressionist surroundings make London After Midnight the most eagerly sought-after lost silent.  

One of those tantalizing London After Midnight (1927) stills.

Browning’s last silent was Where East is East (1929), starring Chaney as an animal trapper in Laos. He worked with Chaney in one talkie, Outside the Law (1930), a remake of his own 1921 film. But sadly, Chaney would pass away from lung cancer during the filming of Dracula (1931), and was famously replaced as the lead by Bela Legosi. The rest of Browning’s directing career, as we know, is history, lasting until 1939 and leaving bizarre classics like Freaks (1932) and The Mark of the Vampire (1935) in its wake. He lived a reclusive life in Malibu until 1962, isolated from the Hollywood establishment that once thought of him as “the Edgar Allan Poe of the cinema.”

–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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Western RoundUp: The Violent Men (1955)

Western RoundUp: The Violent Men (1955)

This spring I wrote here about watching Forty Guns (1957) for the first time.

Forty Guns was an outstanding Western directed by Samuel Fuller, with Barbara Stanwyck leading a top cast. Finally catching up with that film has now prompted me to also watch The Violent Men (1955), another Stanwyck Western with an impressive cast.

The Violent Men (1955) Movie Poster
The Violent Men (1955)

While I classed Forty Guns as a top-of-the-line Western, I rank The Violent Men somewhere lower; I found it solid and quite entertaining yet somewhat disjointed. Sometimes I felt that the pieces were better than the whole.

Glenn Ford plays John Parrish, a Civil War veteran who’s been living in the West for a few years to aid his recovery from a lung injury.

When the town doctor (Raymond Greenleaf) gives John a clean bill of health, John plans to sell his spread and move east with his fiancee, Caroline Vail (May Wynn).

May Wynn and Richard Jaeckel in The Violent Men (1955)
Lita Milan and Richard Jaeckel in The Violent Men (1955)

Lew Wilkinson (Edward G. Robinson), the crippled but powerful owner of the massive Anchor Ranch, essentially orders John to sell his ranch to him for a low price and gives him 24 hours to respond, with the implication John won’t like the outcome if he refuses. Pressured by his fiancee, who’s desperate to leave town, John initially intends to agree, and then one of his hands is murdered by Anchor Ranch thugs. That changes everything.

John prevents his own ranch hands from retaliating in order to protect them, then sets out to deal with the situation on his own. When John confronts the man (Richard Jaeckel) responsible for the murder and he refuses to turn himself in, John ends up killing him in self-defense.

Richard Jaeckel as Wade Matlock in The Violent Men (1955)
Richard Jaeckel as Wade Matlock

Lew’s brother Cole (Brian Keith) and wife Martha (Stanwyck), who are secretly having an affair and want to take control of Lew’s empire, escalate the warfare, including burning down John’s ranch. John, however, has a good understanding of tactics due to his military background and gives the Wilkinsons a much tougher battle than they expect.

When the Wilkinsons’ own ranchhouse is burned down, the coldly calculating Martha leaves the struggling Lew to die in the fire instead of helping him escape the house. She believes she and Cole will take over the ranch and rebuild it bigger than ever, but surprises are in store.

There’s a lot of good stuff in this film, a Shakespearean-style tragedy which reminded me a bit of Broken Lance (1954). The cast, down to supporting players like Jaeckel, Basil Ruysdael, Jack Kelly, and James Westerfield, is absolutely top-notch.

Stanwyck doesn’t enter the film until around the half-hour mark, but as ever, she’s one of the main reasons to watch. Initially it appears butter wouldn’t melt in Martha’s mouth, as she seems to be Lew’s concerned, caring wife; she only wants Cole there to lighten Lew’s load, given that Lew can barely walk with crutches. But why won’t her daughter Judith (Dianne Foster) talk to her?

Glenn Ford, Barbara Stanwyck and Edward G. Robinson in The Violent Men (1955)
Edward G. Robinson, Dianne Foster, and Glenn Ford

Gradually Martha’s malevolent, grasping side becomes clear, as we learn that Judith is disgusted by the fact her mother and uncle are having an affair behind her father’s back. Judith feels trapped and uncertain what to do, given that she doesn’t want to hurt her father with the news. Judith sees John as someone who might help by taking on the fight against Martha and Cole.

It’s interesting to compare Stanwyck’s Martha to her character in the later Forty Guns. In The Violent Men Martha seeks power by manipulating men to do her bidding and provide her with the huge ranch of her dreams, whereas in Forty Guns Stanwyck’s character has more agency, being personally powerful; in that film, unlike Martha, she ultimately shows she has a conscience.

Edward G. Robinson, Glenn Ford, Brian Keith and Barbara Stanwyck in The Violent Men (1955)
Glenn Ford, Brian Keith, Edward G. Robinson, and Barbara Stanwyck

Like Martha, Cole is of extremely low character; not only is he one of the brutal “violent men” of the title and carrying on an affair with his sister-in-law, he’s also having a fling with Elena (Lita Milan), a girl in town.

Like Stanwyck, Keith completely embraces the evil; my job dropped in the scene when, believing Martha will make him rich, he rejects the loyal, loving Elena and flings her to the ground in the middle of the street. It’s a shocking moment with significant consequences.

This is one of a couple strong Western performances by Keith in the late ’50s; he was also in the excellent Clint WalkerVirginia Mayo Western Fort Dobbs (1958), a film I enthusiastically recommend. Milan is touching as the woman who (somewhat inexplicably) loves Cole. The actress would later make an impression in a larger role as Anthony Quinn‘s equally loyal girlfriend in the Western The Ride Back (1957), a film which deserves to be more widely known.

Ford and Robinson are likewise very solid as well. Ford is right on target as someone who would rather be a “peaceable man,” but when pushed he will always do the right thing, particularly in defense of others. Robinson is interesting as the ostensible villain of the piece who turns out to be more misguided and pathetic than villainous; those honors go to Stanwyck and Keith’s characters.

Barbara Stanwyck and Brian Keith in The Violent Men (1955)
Stanwyck and Keith

Other strong points are the cinematography, largely filmed on location in Lone Pine by W. Howard Greene and Burnett Guffey, and a score by Max Steiner.

The film’s flaws are due more to the screenplay, written by Harry Kleiner from a novel by Donald Hamilton, and the direction by cinematographer-turned-director Rudolph Mate.

The script is crammed with characters, and the story, told in 96 minutes, could have been tighter. For instance, there’s really not much point to the character of John’s fiancee Caroline, who apparently has been using John more as a way out of town than truly loving him; when he refuses to leave, she gives him back his ring and she completely disappears from the film.

John already had reason enough to leave town after regaining his health, and the added pressure from a whiny woman doesn’t add a whole lot. Caroline’s complete disappearance has a bit of a feel of “What was that even all about?” wondering why we’ve invested any time in her character.

At the same time, John and Judith’s relationship is underdeveloped, so that the last lines of the film are almost — but not quite — a surprise. Any screen time invested in Caroline should have instead been spent developing Foster’s Judith, who could have used fleshing out, and her relationships with each character, especially John.

Without being too spoilerish, I also felt director Mate could have done much more with the buildup and reveal of a couple of twists in the final action sequence, which instead of being exciting have an almost perfunctory feel. There are some great ideas to utilize in this scene, and the director almost throws them away with “blink and you miss it” moments.

Mate directed other films I love, notably Tyrone Power‘s The Mississippi Gambler (1953), and he does a great job staging the Ford-Jaeckel showdown midway through this movie, but his work here is inconsistent.

A couple fun odds and ends regarding the cast: This was the second Western in which May Wynn and future Maverick TV star Jack Kelly appeared; they had also played supporting roles in They Rode West (1954). They would marry in October 1956 and remain married for eight years.

Dianne Foster, whose additional Westerns included The Kentuckian (1955) and Night Passage (1957), retired from films and television in 1966. She had married a dentist, Dr. Harold Rowe, in 1961, and they remained married until his passing in 1994. Imagine my surprise a few years ago when I was reading an article about Foster and it suddenly dawned on me that the oral surgeon who had removed all my children’s wisdom teeth was her son, who followed his father into dentistry.

While visiting Lone Pine last June I had the opportunity to visit the location of Robinson and Stanwyck’s Anchor Ranch on Moffat Ranch Road. Budd Boetticher’s Randolph Scott film Comanche Station (1960) filmed scenes in the same area.

The Violent Men (1955) Anchor Ranch location Lone Pine
Edward G. Robinson and Barbara Stanwyck’s Anchor Ranch location in Lone Pine

Our location guide told me that Stanwyck’s final scene was shot here:

The Violent Men (1955) Anchor Ranch location Lone Pine Stanwyck
Stanwyck’s final scene was filmed here on Moffat Ranch Road

Somewhat confusingly, there is a real Anchor Ranch south of Lone Pine, on Highway 395, which predates the film and was often used as a movie location. For the history of Anchor Ranch and filming in Lone Pine, please visit my Western RoundUp column from September 2018.

After the filming of The Violent Men concluded, the anchor seen at the ranch entrance in the film was moved to the entrance of the actual Anchor Ranch; today a replica anchor hangs there, which has caused some visitors — including myself, at one point! — to erroneously believe it’s the ranch location used in the movie.

Here’s a look at the real Anchor Ranch entrance and the replica anchor today:

The Violent Men (1955) Anchor Ranch entrance replica
Anchor replica at the entrance of the real Anchor Ranch in Lone Pine

I hope to dig deeper into the locations for The Violent Men when I’m in town again for the Lone Pine Film Festival in October 2022.

In summary, I rank The Violent Men as a good, interesting film, though a tighter script and more thoughtful staging would have elevated it from simply “good” to “outstanding.” 

Despite the flaws, it’s well worth taking the time to watch. It’s available on DVD from Sony/Columbia. It had a VHS release and is currently available to rent for streaming. I hope that at some point it will also be out on 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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Classic Movie Travels: Marcy McGuire

Classic Movie Travels: Marcy McGuire – Iowa and California

Marcy McGuire
Marcy McGuire

Marcy McGuire was an actress and singer who was already working in the entertainment industry by her teenage years. She was born on February 22, 1926, in Kansas City, Kansas, as Marilyn Jeanne McGuire, to film projectionist James McGuire and his wife, Annona. Her parents divorced during her childhood.

In the 1940s, McGuire’s mother remarried to vet Carroll F. Alexander. They lived in a Des Moines, Iowa, home, along with a housekeeper. There, she attended Roosevelt High School.

Soon after, McGuire sang in nightclubs and signed with RKO Pictures and was cast in Seven Days’ Leave (1942) at the age of 16. Her bright, spunky personality shone through in additional film roles, including Higher and Higher (1942), Career Girl (1944), It Happened in Brooklyn (1947), and You Gotta Stay Happy (1948). RKO sporadically made use of her talent, typically casting her as a boy-crazy character. This is best evidenced in Higher and Higher, in which McGuire acts as a housemaid who swoons over Frank Sinatra. Sinatra portrays himself.[

Marcy McGuire and Frank Sinatra
Frank Sinatra and Marcy McGuire

In September 1947, McGuire married actor Wally Cassell. Their marriage produced two children. McGuire and Cassell remained married until his passing at age 103.

McGuire also appeared in Jumping Jacks (1952) with Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. After appearing in an uncredited role as a maid in Summer Magic (1963), McGuire retired from Hollywood.

McGuire passed away on August 7, 2021, in her Palm Desert home. She was 95.

McGuire’s Kansas City home was located at 2503 N. 20th St., Kansas City, Kansas. The original home no longer stands.

McGuire’s next home exists today at 3937 Douglas Dr., Des Moines, Iowa.

Mary McGuire's home, Des Moines, Iowa
McGuire’s home in Des Moines, Iowa

Her alma mater, Roosevelt High School, stands at 4419 Center St., Des Moines, Iowa.

McGuire’s alma mater, Roosevelt High School in Des Moines

When McGuire passed, her residence was located at 681 Red Arrow Trl., Palm Desert, California. This home remains today.

Mary McGuire's home, Palm Desert, California
McGuire’s home in Palm Desert, California

…..

–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

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

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

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Silents are Golden: 8 Great Silent Film Books for Your Library

Silents are Golden: 8 Great Silent Film Books for Your Library

Maybe it’s because of those title cards, but a love of silent films and a love of reading about silent films seem to go hand in hand. If you’re new to books on early cinema and would love to know where to start, I have some handy suggestions–and believe me, paring down the list to just eight choices was quite a challenge!

The Parade’s Gone By by Kevin Brownlow

The Parade’s Gone By by Kevin Brownlow
The Parade’s Gone By by Kevin Brownlow

Every list should naturally start with Brownlow’s milestone book, the gold standard for everything that’s been published since. Based on numerous interviews he conducted in the ‘60s and ‘70s with every former silent film star, director, editor, writer, etc. he could track down, The Parade’s Gone By is a compilation of countless priceless reminisces about the silent days and contains an abundance of detail about every aspect of early film making. It’s woven through with Brownlow’s passionate research and thoughtful observations about an era he was determined to keep from being forgotten–and I’d say he succeeded. 

A Million and One Nights by Terry Ramsaye

A Million and One Nights by Terry Ramsaye
A Million and One Nights by Terry Ramsaye

Written in 1925, this was one of the earliest books to tackle the story of film–starting, ambitiously, with musings on mankind’s advancements in creation and communication throughout history. (A sample chapter title: “From Aristotle to Philadelphia, PA.”) Since cinema was still evolving and maturing as Ramsaye wrote, it’s a fascinating time capsule. While today’s research shows that not all of his facts turned out to be accurate, it’s an enthusiastic, wonderfully written book. How often do you read a sentence like, “The crab-apple of Eden and the orange of Hollywood are undoubtedly of the same tree,” in regards to love stories in art?

The Silent Clowns by Walter Kerr

The Silent Clowns by Walter Kerr
The Silent Clowns by Walter Kerr

Another milestone of great writing on early cinema, Kerr’s passionate, deeply analytical approach to the work of the great silent clowns just about glows with love and admiration for their work. Covering a wide range of talents from Buster Keaton to lesser known figures like Lloyd Hamilton, he examines their unique gifts and makes a thoughtful case for why some comedians stand out above the rest. A remarkable tome that’s been called a love letter to silent comedy more than once.

The Transformation of Cinema: 1907-1915 by Eileen Bowser

The Transformation of Cinema: 1907-1915 by Eileen Bowser
The Transformation of Cinema: 1907-1915 by Eileen Bowser

If you really want to explore some details of early filmmaking, I can think of few works better than Bowser’s deep dive into every aspect of American cinema from the nickelodeon period until 1915. Highly readable and highly fascinating, it covers a gamut of topics from nickelodeon theater interiors to early film advertisements to censorship to styles of acting. Bowser was the former Curator of Film at NYC’s Museum of Modern Art and her wealth of knowledge and meticulous research is practically unparalleled. Whether you’re a hardcore silent film fans and or someone new to the genre, you’ll be glad to have this book.

An Evening’s Entertainment: The Age of the Silent Feature Picture, 1915-1928 by RichardKoszarski

An Evening’s Entertainment: The Age of the Silent Feature Picture, 1915-1928 by RichardKoszarski
An Evening’s Entertainment: The Age of the Silent Feature Picture, 1915-1928 by RichardKoszarski

Picking up where Bowser left off, this volume is equally detailed and equally fascinating.

The number of topics covered is astounding, and its breezy focus on the technical and business sides of filmmaking never gets too dry or academic. Searching for descriptions of film showings in the ‘20s? Looking for some early box office stats or info on theater admissions? Hoping to find overviews of some key directors? Interested in the ins and outs of poster designs? You will find all of this and much, much more in a book that I consider downright indispensable.

The Haunted Screen: Expressionism in the German Cinema and the Influence of Max Reinhardt by Lotte H. Eisner

The Haunted Screen: Expressionism in the German Cinema and the Influence of Max Reinhardt by Lotte H. Eisner
The Haunted Screen: Expressionism in the German Cinema and the Influence of Max Reinhardt by Lotte H. Eisner

The many fans of classics like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) and Nosferatu (1922) can’t go wrong with the great German-French historian’s most acclaimed book. It thoroughly covers the genre of German Expressionism, from its roots in modern art and Expressionist theater to the familiar 1920s masterpieces by F.W. Murnau and Fritz Lang. It also covers a number of minor German Expressionist films that you probably haven’t heard of. All this, combined with Eisner’s incisive analysis and a number of great stills, make it a very useful reference tool on this unique niche of film history.

American Silent Film by William K. Everson

American Silent Film by William K. Everson
American Silent Film by William K. Everson

This classic survey of early American cinema is on many silent film fan’s shelves. Taking the reader on a comprehensive journey from film’s earliest days all the way through to the early talkies, Everson’s book concentrates a bit more on the artistic side of filmmaking and also gives credit to the influence of European filmmaking. It was also one of the first books to thoroughly cover pre-1920 films. It’s a work I’ve referenced many times, and no doubt you’ll find it fascinating too.   

The Keystone Kid: Tales of Early Hollywood by Coy Watson Jr.

The Keystone Kid: Tales of Early Hollywood by Coy Watson Jr.
The Keystone Kid: Tales of Early Hollywood by Coy Watson Jr.

And now for something a little different! Comprehensive surveys and detailed analyses are all well and good, but sometimes it’s nice to see a more personal side of “the industry.” Coy Watson Jr. grew up quite literally down the street from Mack Sennett’s Keystone studio, and his father was one of the first official special effects experts in Hollywood. Coy and his eight siblings would all act in the movies alongside numerous great stars, both silents and talkies. In 2001 he decided to share his family’s memories and release this charming memoir. It’s both a priceless, up-close-and-personal account of early Hollywood and an affectionate portrait of a very close and hardworking family. It’s a beautiful book that more people could stand to know about.

Obviously this is a very brief starting point for building your very own silent film library, but I hope it helps! Much like the films themselves, these are books that can be enjoyed and pondered for many years to come.

–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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Silver Screen Standards: The Wolf Man (1941)

Silver Screen Standards: The Wolf Man (1941)

The Wolf Man (1941) Lon Chaney Jr.
Chaney’s werewolf form makes him monstrous but retains enough of his humanity to be unsettling, especially because we can see his very human eyes in the monster’s face.

When I’m asked to choose a favorite among the classic Universal monster movies, I always pick The Wolf Man (1941). As much as I love Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi in their iconic monster roles, there’s something profoundly tragic about Lon Chaney Jr. as the unwilling werewolf, and the story always gets into my psyche and prowls around there in the dark corners, sniffing at my suspicion that the monster I most fear is the one who lives inside me. Unlike his monstrous peers, the Wolf Man is a living human being, guilty of no wrong, who is as horrified by his transformation as anyone else but utterly unable to stop it or prevent his bestial alter ego from wreaking havoc. What could be more terrifying? It’s this deeply sad and terrible premise that makes The Wolf Man such a great horror movie and an inspiration to the many stories that have followed it.

The Wolf Man (1941) Lon Chaney Jr. and Evelyn Ankers
Unable to control his bestial urges, Larry attacks Gwen (Evelyn Ankers), the girl he loves.

It’s true that The Wolf Man has its weaknesses as a picture, and Lon Chaney Jr. is not the gruesome chameleon that his father was in silent horror masterpieces, but Chaney’s ordinary face and manner remind us that this is the story of an everyman, not an extraordinary fiend or a lunatic driven by his unholy passions. Larry Talbot is the Americanized, prodigal son of an old English family; the disconnect between Chaney’s size and accent when compared to those of Claude Rains, who plays his father, Sir John, can seem a bit absurd but also emphasizes their emotional separation. As modern viewers we’re rightly troubled by the stereotyped depiction of the story’s Romani characters, but still Maria Ouspenskaya moves and compels us with her portrayal of Maleva, a sympathetic mother grieving the fate of her son and striving to help Larry even though the odds are against him. Maleva’s doomed son Bela, played by none other than Lugosi himself, is no more willingly culpable for his actions than Larry. The “wolf” we occasionally see might not fool anyone who has ever seen either a wolf or a German Shepherd, but it takes a lot of trust between man and dog for those scenes, and it’s weirdly heartwarming to know that Chaney’s pet dog, Moose, substitutes for the fearsome predator.

The Wolf Man (1941) Maria Ouspenskaya
Maleva (Maria Ouspenskaya) loses her son to the curse but tries to help Larry resist his murderous moonlight urges.

The message of The Wolf Man is best expressed by the ominous verse that we hear repeated throughout the picture: “Even a man who is pure of heart,/ And says his prayers by night,/ May become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms/ And the autumn moon is bright.” The lines have the ring of an old nursery rhyme but were written by Curt Siodmak, who penned the original screenplay. As a Polish Jew born in Germany, Siodmak knew too well the way fate forces people into monstrous situations; he had fled Europe for the United States in 1937 as the Nazis ramped up their anti-Semitic aggression. Siodmak might have had his own powerlessness against fate in mind when he wrote the screenplay, but it speaks to the universal fear we share of being unable to stop terrible things from happening. Even more troubling is the fear that we cannot stop ourselves from becoming the monsters we abhor.

Siodmak’s story also taps into the medieval sense of the Wheel of Fortune and de casibus tragedy, in which people fall into the worst suffering from the promising heights of happiness. Larry Talbot is such a person, tied to Fortune’s relentlessly spinning wheel. He comes home, is reconciled with his father, meets a girl he likes, and is poised to inherit his father’s estate, but the werewolf’s fatal bite turns everything to ruin. Larry commits no crime to merit such a fate; he is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to do the right thing by rushing to the aid of the werewolf’s latest victim. He’s not a mad scientist playing God, an adulterer performing profane rituals, or a bloodthirsty count enjoying his immortality. That’s what makes Larry’s story both moving and terrifying. He’s a normal person, just like us, living his normal life until something horrific snatches it all away.

The Wolf Man (1941) Claude Rains
The final twist of the curse makes Sir John (Claude Rains) his son’s unwitting executioner.

The tragic power of The Wolf Man has been harnessed many times since Chaney first donned the iconic werewolf makeup and stalked Evelyn Ankers through the foggy moonlit wood, with Chaney himself revisiting the role numerous times. He played Larry Talbot again in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), House of Frankenstein (1944), House of Dracula (1945), and Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948), proving that one of Larry’s worst torments is his inability to die and end the curse. Simone Simon provides a feminine take on the story in Cat People (1942), while David Naughton plays a younger but no less tortured lycanthrope in An American Werewolf in London (1981). Even the cult horror comedy classic, Monster Squad (1987), understands that the werewolf is best understand as a victim of his fate. For a precursor to the 1941 picture, see Werewolf of London (1935), starring Henry Hull. If you’re interested in the medieval roots of werewolf lore, read the 12th century French “Bisclavret,” written by Marie de France.

— 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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Monsters and Matinees: A Tribute to Carl Kolchak, Monster Hunter

A Tribute to Carl Kolchak, Monster Hunter

Let’s be honest creature feature fans. We may love the monsters, but we enjoy the hunt, too.

Van Helsing, Hellboy, Solomon Kane and yes, the Scooby Gang, are among the most well-known of that special breed of monster hunters, but tops on my list is Carl Kolchak.

Without this fictional newspaper reporter who battled monsters to save the world on 1970s television, we wouldn’t have the likes of Mulder and Scully (The X-Files), Buffy (Buffy the Vampire Slayer), and the Winchester brothers (Supernatural).

Kolchak debuted in the 1972 TV movie The Night Stalker and is immortalized as a pop-culture icon in his trademark straw hat, seersucker suit and white sneakers.

That was 50 years ago, yet new books, graphic novels and home video releases continue to be created; fan art and watch parties are shared through Facebook groups dedicated to Kolchak. Pilgrimages are still made to the Old Colony Building in Chicago, which was the exterior for Kolchak’s office, the International News Service.

One reason for the continued interest is that Kolchak reminds fans of their childhood, said Gregg Davis, founder of the “Kolchak: The Night Stalker” Facebook group. “So many have memories of watching with a parent and being terrified – it was the first really scary show many members ever watched. Those memories are burned into their minds and finding others who share those memories is exciting,” said Davis who started his group, which now has 29,000 members, in 2005. 

Played by the engaging Darren McGavin, Kolchak battled more than 20 different creatures all in the name of getting a good story. There were the “usuals” like vampires, werewolves and witches, along with creepy creatures like an energy-eating entity, invisible aliens, a headless motorcyclist, succubus and ape-man.

Darren McGavin is Carl Kolchak.

But the emphasis through two TV movies and a 20-episode series was on Kolchak, not the monsters, and that “solidified the character of Kolchak in the history of television,” said Kendall R. Phillips, author of the new book “Kolchak: The Night Stalker,” part of the TV Milestones series from Wayne State University Press.

“Previously the focus was on the victim or the monster, or it would bounce back and forth between the two. If you had a monster hunter like Van Helsing, he showed up in the third act,” Phillips said, adding that focusing on Kolchak, “changed the face of horror.”

And, let’s be honest, that was an accomplishment for a character who was learning monster hunting on the job. Luckily, he was a darn good reporter. So, while he didn’t know science, folklore or mythology, he expertly wielded tough questions which usually got him in trouble but also provided answers.

“I ask a lot of questions; seems nobody likes that – cops, voodooists or politicians,” Kolchak says in The Zombie.

He was persistent and stubborn, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He wouldn’t let go of a good story, not even for a ticket to see the Cubs in the World Series. And he was willing to explore the most unbelievable possibilities to solve murders and investigate strange phenomenon.

Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) may be afraid of his shadow, but he still puts himself at risk by going alone into dangerous areas, to get his story.

Like the modern-day horror character who walks into the dark basement, Kolchak was always going where he shouldn’t – into an old house, an abandoned property, the sewers or the woods. Stumbling and bumbling, he knocked things over and made noise, drawing dangerous attention to himself. If there was a closet or doorway, Kolchak will surely back up against it and into the deadly arms of whatever terror awaits.

He was a fraidy cat who would jump at his own shadow, but he was somehow also foolishly brave. My favorite moment, if you can call it a favorite since it’s so creepy, is the scene where a clearly terrified Kolchak crawls into a hearse to “kill” a zombie by putting sugar in its mouth and sewing its lips shut (The Zombie).

He’s usually out of his league and that perennial underdog status is another aspect his enduring appeal, Davis of “Kolchak: The Night Stalker” Facebook group said.

“Kolchak always fights back and always triumphs, even if no one ever believes him,” Davis said. “His sense of humor makes him especially likable. Lots of great writers and directors were a part of the show, and it was generally a step above other TV shows of the time.”

While reporting, Kolchak discovered things so fantastic that authorities made sure his stories never saw the light of the day. They ripped film from his camera, the tape from his recorder and confiscated photos from his office. Stories were pulled and replaced with safe, sanitized versions of the “truth.”

Carl Kolchak is on the other side of the crucifix as he fends off vampire Janos Skorzeny (played by Barry Atwater) in The Night Stalker movie.

Since he couldn’t share his stories with readers of the International News Service, he told them to TV viewers in the always entertaining and mood-setting monologues that opened and closed each story.

“Chicago was being stalked by a horror so frightening, so fascinating, that it ranks with the great mysteries of all times. It’s been the fictional subject of novels, plays, films, even an opera. Now, here, are the true facts,” he tells us in the opening of The Ripper, the first episode in the TV series.

He knew how to grab our attention and we were happy to give it to him. It’s no wonder that Chris Carter was so inspired by watching Kolchak as a kid that he created his own truth-seekers in The X-Files.

The history of Kolchak

Carl Kolchak was introduced in The Kolchak Papers, an unpublished novel by Jeff Rice who was a reporter at the Las Vegas Sun. Though it failed to garner the interest of publishers, it was picked up by ABC Studios and turned into the made-for-TV movie The Night Stalker written by Richard Matheson for producer Dan Curtis.

In the movie, Kolchak is working for the International News Service in Las Vegas and complaining, as is his nature, about his latest assignment, a “two-day-old, third-rate murder.”

It quickly becomes his No. 1 priority when he learns the enticing news that victims were drained of blood. When the suspect is identified as a 70-year-old man named Janos Skorzeny (played by Barry Atwater) with superhuman strength and a body that can withstand point-blank bullets, Kolchak’s Spidey sense goes up.

It doesn’t take long for him to say the “V” word, nor to pull out a hammer and stake, imploring police authorities to “proceed under the assumption that he’s a vampire.”

“Are you suggesting that we pound one of those in Skorzeny’s chest?” Kolchak is asked.

“No, into his heart,” he says, speaking the language of horror fans.

Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) explains to police how they can kill a vampire in the TV movie The Night Stalker.

The Night Stalker was an overwhelming yet unexpected success, becoming the highest-rated TV movie at the time. (It’s puzzling that anyone would be surprised that a collaboration between Matheson, who wrote such classics as the vampire/zombie novel I Am Legend and many of the most memorable episodes of The Twilight Zone, and Curtis, the man responsible for Dark Shadows, would be a success.)

A sequel was quickly ordered, and The Night Strangler followed in 1973. Kolchak, banished from Las Vegas, was now in Seattle where his reputation – and trouble – followed. Young female murder victims are found with a needle puncture at the base of their scull and rotting pieces of flesh on their neck. With some research and old newspapers, Kolchak finds similar murders have taken place every 21 years going back a century. A trip into Seattle’s fascinating but spooky underground city is the next stop on Kolchak’s agenda.

The Night Strangler was another success, leading ABC to order a series. Kolchak: The Night Stalker premiered on Sept. 13, 1974 with The Ripper and a serial killer, who, you may have guessed, has disturbing similarities to Jack the Ripper.

From there, the episodes kept it fun with talk of a man with X-ray eyes, an Elixir of Life, ancient frozen cells, cursed tablets and oozing substances.

But it also followed a monster-of-the-week format, one reason that star Darren McGavin was so unhappy that he left the series before it completed a full season. But it still made its mark.

“For a show that didn’t last even a full season, it imprinted itself on American popular culture,” Phillips said. “People know that iconic straw hat and that seersucker suit. When he died, virtually every obit mentioned two of his parts: the father in ‘Christmas Story’ and Kolchak. Kolchak took a huge part of America’s imagination – and it continues to keep our imagination.”

Richard Kiel plays a sinister shaman who towers over Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) in the episode Bad Medicine from Kolchak: The Night Stalker.

The guest stars

The Kolchak movies and TV series all boasted great supporting casts led by Simon Oakland as Kolchak’s beleaguered and blustery boss Tony Vincenzo.

The list of police captains Kolchak frustrated and alienated were played by the likes of Keenan Wynn, Charles Aidman, John Marley and Larry Linville.

He also cultivated his reporting sources well. A favorite was Wally Cox who was perfectly cast as mousy researcher Titus Berry. I get caught up in their kid-like excitement as they discover the pattern to a murderer who strikes every 21 years in The Night Strangler. “Shall we try for 1889?” Titus asks.

Villains included Richard Kiel who played different creatures in The Spanish Moss Murders and Bad Medicine, soap star Eric Braeden was the title character in The Werewolf and Cathy Lee Crosby as a lovely woman who retained her youthful beauty at the expense of others in The Youth Killer.

Other familiar faces (and voices) are J. Pat O’Malley, Alice Ghostley, Julie Adams, Jim Backus, Erik Estrada and the wonderful Ruth McDevitt as the news agency’s puzzle maker and advice columnist, Miss Emily, who had an very sweet relationship with Kolchak.

Look for special guest star Kathie Brown, McGavin’s wife, in the episode Sentry.

 Toni Ruberto for Classic Movie Hub

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

Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a member of the Classic Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo chapter of TCM Backlot and now leads the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs. She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto.

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Noir Nook: Best Noir of the Year – Part I

Noir Nook: Best Noir of the Year – Part I

If you know me, you’ll know I love a good list. And what better lists to make than lists about classic film noir features? This time around, I’m serving up my favorite film noir from each year of the classic noir era which, in my estimation, started in 1940 and ended in 1959. As you can imagine, coming up with just one noir per year involved a great deal of thought and some painful decisions, but I managed to settle on a final list of my ultimate picks. For September’s Noir Nook, I’m sharing the first 10 years of the classic noir era – next month, I’ll wrap up the list with 1950 through 1959. Here goes…

1940:

Bette Davis in The Letter (1940)
Bette Davis in The Letter (1940)

This year wasn’t very difficult – the classic film noir era was just getting started, and there were only a handful of pictures that would fit in this category. For sentimental reasons, because I consider it to be the very first noir, I’d like to say Stranger on the Third Floor, but my true favorite is The Letter. This feature stars Bette Davis as Leslie Crosbie, the wife of a rubber plantation owner in Malaysia (and who, incidentally, is deserving of an honorable mention on my list of memorable femme entrances). The picture opens with Leslie’s multiple gunshot murder of her lover, and the defense of her elaborate alibi hinges upon the letter of the film’s title – a missive written from Leslie to her lover, and now in the possession of the dead man’s Malaysian wife (Gale Sondergaard).

1941:

Lana Turner and Robert Taylor in Johnny Eager (1941)
Lana Turner and Robert Taylor in Johnny Eager (1941)

I know that The Maltese Falcon seems like an obvious choice for this year, but I decided to go in a different direction – my choice for the year is Johnny Eager, starring Robert Taylor in the title role of an ex-con who uses the daughter (Lana Turner) of his nemesis to further his criminal exploits. Also in the cast is Van Heflin, who deservedly won an Academy Award for his portrayal of Eager’s loyal, alcoholic best friend. Special shout-out to Patricia Dane who turned in a touching performance as Eager’s discarded lover.

1942:

Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake in This Gun for Hire (1942)
Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake in This Gun for Hire (1942)

Interestingly, this year pits two Alan LaddVeronica Lake noirs against each other: This Gun for Hire and The Glass Key. (It’s also interesting that my favorite Ladd-Lake film is neither of these – it’s The Blue Dahlia! But I digress.) I’m going to go with This Gun for Hire, where Ladd stars as a psychologically damaged hitman named Raven and Lake is a nightclub singer who gets caught up in Raven’s vendetta against his employer (Laird Cregar). There are a lot of moving parts here, and some typical noir confusion, but it’s never boring.

1943:

Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotton in Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotton in Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

A no-brainer for this year – it’s Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt, which the famed director reportedly identified as his favorite film. Here, Teresa Wright is Charlotte “Charlie” Newton, a small-town girl whose bored existence is significantly altered when her uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) comes to visit. Unfortunately for young Charlie, her uncle is a sociopath and a murderer. You can’t choose your relatives.

1944:

Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity (1944)
Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity (1944)

Things are starting to heat up, folks. The year 1944 presented me with my first set of multiple contenders. Murder, My Sweet? Phantom Lady? Laura? A near-impossible choice, right? Not so fast. If you know me, you know what my favorite noir is and you know that I simply must pick Double Indemnity. Barbara Stanwyck is Phyllis Dietrichson, who teams with a too-smart-for-his-own-good insurance salesman (Fred MacMurray) to bump off Mr. Dietrichson and collect a big insurance payday. But you know what they say about the best laid plans.

1945:

Ann Blyth and Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce (1945)
Ann Blyth and Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce (1945)

Another year, another personal favorite. I hate to bypass Detour, The Great Flamarion, My Name Is Julia Ross, and Scarlet Street, but they haven’t got a chance up against Mildred Pierce. Next to Double Indemnity, this is the noir I’ve seen the most often, and the first time I saw it was on the big screen – it’s a sentimental favorite, y’all. Joan Crawford stars in the title role of a single mother whose life is forever altered by her determination to please her snooty older daughter (played to perfection by Ann Blyth).  

1946:

Edward Norris, Jean Gillie and Herbert Rudley in Decoy (1946)
Edward Norris, Jean Gillie and Herbert Rudley in Decoy (1946)

I’m going out on a limb with this one, folks. Numerous first-rate noirs were released in 1946, including Gilda, The Killers, The Locket, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers, and the uber-confusing but undeniably entertaining The Big Sleep. But I’m going with Decoy. This obscure noir stars Jean Gillie as Margot Shelby, a cold-as-dry-ice dame who is mortally wounded at the film’s begin and tells us in flashback how she masterminded a farfetched criminal scheme that centered on reviving her recently executed convict boyfriend. (I kid you not.) Decoy isn’t on YouTube and I’ve never seen it on cable, but it is available on DVD – I strongly recommend that you check it out. I promise that you won’t be sorry.

1947:

Ann Sheridan and Kent Smith in Nora Prentiss (1947)
Ann Sheridan and Kent Smith in Nora Prentiss (1947)

And now we come to 1947, the year that saw the release of oh-so-many noir gems – Out of the Past, The Devil Thumbs a Ride, Born to Kill, They Won’t Believe Me, Nightmare Alley, Body and Soul… the sheer number of outstanding noirs that came out this year is absolutely mind-blowing. I sidestepped these, though, in favor of a film that’s always on my best-of lists – Nora Prentiss. This feature boasts a unique storyline, a perfect noir ending, and top-notch performances from Ann Sheridan as a nightclub singer and Kent Taylor as the very-married doctor who ruins his life – literally – when he falls for her.

1948:

Cathy O'Donnell and Farley Granger in They Live by Night (1948)
Cathy O’Donnell and Farley Granger in They Live by Night (1948)

I thought that I’d have a harder time with this year, but as soon as I spied They Live By Night, I knew what my pick would be. This film stars Farley Granger and Cathy O’Donnell as perfectly cast star-crossed lovers whose quest for a normal life is continuously thwarted by the realities of the criminal milieu in which they exist. Memorable support is provided by noir vets Jay C. Flippen, Will Wright, and Howard DaSilva (whose one-eyed ex-con is one of noir’s creepiest).

1949:

Yvonne DeCarlo and Burt Lancaster in Criss Cross (1949)
Yvonne DeCarlo and Burt Lancaster in Criss Cross (1949)

Wow, this was the hardest year yet, with three superb films vying for my pick: Too Late for Tears, The Set-Up, and Criss Cross. What a quandary! After much consideration, I finally went with Criss Cross, which I consider to be one of noir’s purest. Burt Lancaster is Steve Thompson, who returns to his hometown only to find himself drawn into a web of passion, deception, and murder involving his ex-wife (Yvonne DeCarlo) and her new husband, local mobster Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea). For my money, everything about this film is perfect, from the casting to the plot, and from the first scene to the last. If you’ve never seen this one, do yourself a favor and bump it up to the top of your must-see list. You won’t be sorry.

What are your favorite noirs from 1940 to 1949? Leave a comment and let me know – and join me next month for Part II of Best Noir of the Year!

– 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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Film Noir Review: The Brasher Doubloon (1947)

“Rule 1 for private detectives: always deposit retainer before client changes mind.”

We all love Philip Marlowe. He’s the essence of film noir distilled to a single character, and he’s responsible for more classics than most screen detectives combined. The roster of actors who have played him is staggering as it is star-studded: Dick Powell, Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Danny Glover and James Caan. Each of them brought a specific aspect of Marlowe to the fore, proving just how versatile and multi-faceted the character has been.

That being said, Marlowe is not an automatic boon for a film. While his screen adventures have fared better than, say, Mike Hammer or Lew Archer, there have been instances where an adaptation completely drops the ball. Case in point: 1947’s The Brasher Doubloon. A film that flirted with greatness at nearly every turn during pre-production, and somehow wound up with the least compelling final product imaginable.

The film’s promotional poster.

Let’s backtrack slightly. Raymond Chandler, the author behind Marlowe, was the hottest ticket in Hollywood circa 1945. He landed an Oscar nomination for co-writing Double Indemnity (1944), and adaptations of the novels Murder, My Sweet (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946) resulted in critical and commercial success. 20th Century Fox took notice, and they dusted off the rights to Chandler’s novel The High Window with the hopes of churning out yet another hit. What could go wrong?

It turns out, a lot. Fasten your seatbelts, because the number of legendary actors that were connected to the film at one point or another is whiplash-inducing. The first official word on The Brasher Doubloon came in May 1945, when it was announced that Fred MacMurray would be playing Marlowe. Before the ink had dried on said report, MacMurray was out and John Payne was in. Curious to see Payne step into Marlowe’s well-worn shoes? Too bad, he got axed two months later to make way for Victor Mature. 20th Century Fox became so committed to making Mature the next Marlowe, in fact, that he was taken off the musical Three Little Girls In Blue (1946) so that he could be given the necessary time to prepare.

Fred MacMurray was the first actor attached to the film.

It doesn’t stop there. Mature eventually walked, which left the door open for Dana Andrews. A report made by the studio in January 1946 confirmed that Gene Tierney would be cast opposite Andrews’s Marlowe, and that John Brahm would be brought in to direct. One part of the report turned out to be true, and it had nothing to do with the stars of Laura (1944). Pressed for options, and with no committed stars in sight, the studio turned to Robert Montgomery. On paper, the actor was as good a choice as any, but he had already committed to a different Marlowe adaptation for RKO, Lady In the Lake (1947), and the double-dip proved too big a hurdle to overcome.

I’ve spent so much time on the casting possibilities of The Brasher Doubloon because any one of these actors would have made an excellent Marlowe. MacMurray and Mature would have harnessed the detective’s steadfastness, Payne would’ve tapped into his underlying tenderness, and Andrews could have given us a steely, slightly uncharacteristic take (akin to the aforementioned Lady In the Lake). There is a fascinating film to be with each of these men, especially when one considers the fact that each of them were in their commercial prime.

Nancy Guild and George Montgomery struggle to get their footing.

What we got instead was George Montgomery and a 1947 release. Now I’m not one to criticize actors outright, and Montgomery was a likable cowboy in Cimarron City (1958-59), but he has no business taking up the mantle of Marlowe. He’s an open book and it shows. He’s too broad and chiseled, and he communicates none of the internal problem-solving that a character like Marlowe requires to make compelling. He’s also too broad-minded. From the opening scene, he aggressively flirts with his client’s secretary (Nancy Guild), despite her making it clear that she has more pressing matters on the brain. Granted, Marlowe has always had a tendency to romance the women he encounters, but Montgomery’s unrelentingness makes the whole enterprise feel, well, creepy. Less Spade and more Archer if you catch my drift.

Guild, who took on the role of timid secretary after Tierney and Ida Lupino (!) passed, is given little to do but look frightened. She fares decently with what she has, but her chemistry with Montgomery is stiff at best, making them easily the least electric pairing in any Marlowe adaptation. Noir enthusiasts will perk up whenever bit players like Roy Roberts (Force of Evil) and Houseley Stevenson (Dark Passage) appear, but they’re gone before they’re able to spike the momentum of the film in any significant way.

Montgomery as the only mustachioed Marlowe to date.

The screenplay doesn’t do the cast any favors. Dorothy Bennett and Leonard Praskins attempt to stay faithful to Chandler’s novel by incorporating narration, but they wind up overexplaining the plot to such an extent that all tension is removed. Marlowe figures things out in record time, and the unconvincing performances make it clear when a particular character is lying. The moment where Guild’s character pulls a gun on Marlowe should be a shocker, but Guild has played all of her previous scenes with such exaggerated innocence that the whole thing feels telegraphed. Even the shamus looks unsurprised.

It’s not all bad. John Brahm is one of those directors who’s only as good as his material, but he manages to stage some interesting visuals nonetheless. Marlowe gets knocked down at one point, and when he looks up, the camera assumes his POV as his captors stand above him. It’s a neat shot, and one that captures the grittiness of the novel. I also like the use of architecture to communicate the gothic ties of Marlowe’s client, the Murdock family.

“You better go easy on that whiskey, Miss Davis. That sounded like a direct answer to a direct question.”

At the risk of making a correlation sound like a causation, the Marlowe adaptations slowed down after the release of The Brasher Doubloon. The film received mixed to negative reviews, and the character wouldn’t be seen again on the big screen until 1969’s Marlowe. The character has obviously survived, leaving this subpar release as little more than a curiosity for noiristas and Raymond Chandler completists. It’s one of those rare, unfortunate films that’s more interesting to read about than it is to watch.

TRIVIA: The film was released under its original title, The High Window, in the UK.

…..

You can find all of Danilo’s Film Noir Review articles here.

Danilo Castro is a film noir aficionado and Contributing Writer for Classic Movie Hub. You can read more of Danilo’s articles and reviews at the Film Noir Archive, or you can follow Danilo on Twitter @DaniloSCastro.

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Western RoundUp: Western Film Book Library – Part 6

Western RoundUp: Western Film Book Library – Part 6

It’s been over a year since my last “Western Film Book Library” post, and in the intervening time I’ve made several interesting additions to my library, so this seems like a good time for a fresh look at some books on the Western genre!

For those who might be new to this topic, my past columns with additional book recommendations are linked at the bottom of this column.

The Heroine or the Horse: Leading Ladies in Republic’s Films by Thomas Burnett Swann is one of the earliest titles I acquired when I was first building my film book library as a teenager. It was published by A.S. Barnes & Co. in 1977. Despite its age, used copies of this book are readily available online for reasonable prices.

The Heroine or the Horse: Leading Ladies in Republic's Films by Thomas Burnett Swann
The Heroine or the Horse: Leading Ladies in Republic’s Films by Thomas Burnett Swann

The Heroine or the Horse isn’t entirely focused on Westerns, but since Westerns were a Republic Studios specialty, a significant number of the films discussed in the book are from that genre.

Some chapters group several actresses for discussion, such as a chapter on John Wayne‘s leading ladies; another chapter on “superstars” features actresses such as Hayworth, Crawford, and Stanwyck. Vera Hruba Ralston, who married studio head Herbert Yates, receives her own chapter, as does author favorite Adela Mara.  The book contains varying amounts of biographical background mixed with information on the films the actresses made at Republic.

This 134-page book is filled with black and white photographs. At the time I first read it, many of the films and actresses seen in the photographs were completely unknown to me, which made it both educational and a tantalizing guide to films I might one day have a chance to see. Today I’m much better acquainted with most of the actresses discussed, but there are still many films mentioned in the book which I’d like to be able to see; Republic “B” films are not always easy to access!

Those Great Cowboy Sidekicks, like several other books I’ve discussed here over the years, was a find at the Lone Pine Museum of Western Film History. It was written by David Rothel, who also wrote the wonderful book on Tim Holt which I recommended here in 2019.

The book can be found with very different covers, including the two above, as it’s been republished a couple of times since its original publication in 1984. It was most recently republished for the Lone Pine Museum by Riverwood Press in 2013; that edition runs 354 pages.

The book is divided into three sections, with the first one focusing on the “Big Three”: George “Gabby” Hayes, Smiley Burnette, and Al “Fuzzy” St. John. The second chapter covers more familiar faces such as Richard “Chito” Martin, Andy “California” Clyde, Lee “Lasses” White, Fuzzy Knight, Raymond Hatton, and more. The final chapter of “strays” has even more actors who appeared as Western sidekicks during their careers, including Gordon Jones, Slim Pickens, Guinn “Big Boy” Williams, and Sterling Holloway.

The book’s photo spreads are quite beautiful, as seen above, and the photos also make the book a great resource for anyone trying to place a familiar face seen in a Western. The book contains a lot of good biographical information unlikely to be found elsewhere, including really interesting primary source interviews with both actors and relatives. Western filmographies are included as well.

The Films and Career of Audie Murphy, America’s Real Hero by Sue Gossett is yet another treasure found in Lone Pine. The museum does a remarkable job carrying not only recent books but older titles, such as this paperback from Empire Publishing, originally published in 1996 and republished in 2003.

The Films and Career of Audie Murphy, America's Real Hero by Sue Gossett
The Films and Career of Audie Murphy, America’s Real Hero by Sue Gossett

Along with some biographical background, the book covers all of Murphy’s films in three- to four-page spreads which include the credits, a plot synopsis, and additional information such as a film’s critical reception. I particularly liked that each film’s locations are included, since that topic is always of particular interest to me.

While some of the material such as plots can be found online these days, the book was written by someone who clearly admires Murphy and it has many good photos, making it a nice career overview and companion to Robert Nott’s Last of the Cowboy Heroes, which was discussed in my 2021 book roundup. It’s worth noting that director Budd Boetticher and two of Murphy’s sisters were among those thanked for their support in the book’s opening acknowledgments.

John Wayne Was Here: The Film Locations and Favorite Places of an American Icon by Roland Schaefli was a key resource for me in finding the Rio Grande (1950) locations in the Moab area which I shared pictures of earlier this summer.

John Wayne Was Here: The Film Locations and Favorite Places of an American Icon by Roland Schaefli
John Wayne Was Here: The Film Locations and Favorite Places of an American Icon by Roland Schaefli

John Wayne Was Here is an impressive 313-page book published by MacFarland, and after using it this year I can say it is the book for anyone interested in Wayne locations as well as significant places in Wayne’s offscreen life, up to and including his gravesite in Corona del Mar, California.

For Rio Grande the book even provided the precise highway mile markers we’d need outside Moab, Utah. The book was remarkably helpful for our locations hunt, and it’s also an interesting read with plentiful photographs.

Where God Put the West: Movie Making in the Desert – A Moab-Monument Valley Movie History by Bette E. Stanton is one of two books on movie locations I came across in the gift shop at Arches National Park this summer. It was published by the Canyonlands Natural History Association.

Where God Put the West: Movie Making in the Desert - A Moab-Monument Valley Movie History by Bette E. Stanton
Where God Put the West: Movie Making in the Desert – A Moab-Monument Valley Movie History by Bette E. Stanton

I really liked this 184-page book, which as the title indicates covers the film history of both Moab and Monument Valley. Having now been to both locations made the book especially meaningful for me. It goes into considerable historical detail, with fairly small print, and contains unique photographs I’ve never seen anywhere else, such as the cast of Rio Grande on location at White Ranch outside Moab.

The book contains some excellent Western film history and will also be useful on future movie location visits.

Cinema Southwest: An Illustrated Guide to the Movies and Their Locations by John A. Murray is the other book I found at Arches National Park, and like the previous title it was published by the Canyonlands Natural History Association.

Cinema Southwest: An Illustrated Guide to the Movies and Their Locations by John A. Murray
Cinema Southwest: An Illustrated Guide to the Movies and Their Locations by John A. Murray

This 196-page book has heavy pages and glossy photographs, including many in color. It groups locations for seven states, from California to Texas. Although the southwestern U.S. locations naturally lead to most of the films discussed being Westerns, non-Westerns are covered as well.

Cinema Southwest includes a number of what I consider “newer” films, but the amount of information on older movies is substantial enough that I found the book worth my while. Like the previously mentioned location books, it also has useful information for visitors, such as describing for readers exactly how to get to Movie Road in the Alabama Hills outside Lone Pine.

A tidbit I was fascinated to learn from this book was that Clint Eastwood‘s High Plains Drifter (1973) filmed at Mono Lake, a site I’ve driven past countless times over the course of my life. That movie is now on my “watch” list!

For more ideas on Western film books, please visit my lists from July 2019November 2019May 2020January 2021, and July 2021.

– 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 Sheik (1921)

Silents are Golden: A Closer Look At – The Sheik (1921)

One of the great sensations of the early 1920s screen, The Sheik (1921) is the kind of silent film that’s almost too easy to mock: it’s melodramatic, it’s cheesy, it’s based on a florid romance novel, and it features plenty of that exaggerated acting people always think was common back then (there was plenty of naturalistic acting, I promise…!).

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

And when it comes to analyzing its star, the legendary Rudolph Valentino, some might find themselves scratching their heads. The bulging eyes, the stilted love scenes–it’s a performance that admittedly hasn’t aged like a fine wine. But there are still moments that capture his charisma, helping us understand his singular mystique. And, of course, The Sheik is also a darn good example of early 20th century camp.

The Sheik (1921) Agnes Ayres and Rudolph Valentino
Valentino as The Sheik, Ahmed Ben Hassan, carrying Ayres, Lady Diana Mayo

After his breakout role as the fiery gaucho Julio in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921), oddly enough, Valentino’s subsequent roles weren’t exactly capitalizing on his talent. Camille (1921), for instance, was mainly an artsy vehicle for its star Alla Nazimova. He finally signed a contract with the more open-minded Famous Players-Lasky, which quickly decided the “exotic” young Italian would make a perfect Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan for The Sheik, their planned film version of Edith M. Hull’s wildly successful romance novel. His costars would be Agnes Ayres, an unassuming brunette whose petite frame made her costar seem taller than he was (various sources say Valentino was either 5’8” or 5’9”), and the dapper Adolphe Menjou.

The Sheik (1921) Rudolph Valentino, Agnes Ayres and Adolphe Menjou
Valentino, Ayres and Menjou

Not only was this novel popular, but it was very much in tune with the prevailing trend for all things “Oriental.” The Far East was considered a place of lush beauty and mysterious allure, where passions surely ran hot. Various starlets sported turbans and dresses made of “exotic” fabrics and decorated their homes with lacquered tables, painted screens and heaps of silk cushions. Interest in “Orientalism” signaled that you were more mystical and artistic than your average straitlaced type, and certainly more sensual.

In that atmosphere, Hull’s novel was practically made to order. It does have elements that really make us balk today. It tells the tale of Lady Diana Mayo, an adventurous young woman who insists on taking a trip into the Algerian desert accompanied only by a guide. She soon catches the eye of the Sheik Ahmed, who decides that he must have her. He dramatically kidnaps her, has his way with her, and keeps her captive for several months. Although she does attempt to escape, eventually Diana begins falling in love with Ahmed. When Diana’s kidnapped again by a rival sheik, Ahmed realizes that he loves her too, and after some twists and turns all ends happily… so to speak.

The Sheik novel by E.M. Hull
The novel The Sheik by E.M. Hull (1919)

With such a scandalous plot on their hands, Famous Players had to figure out how to get away with filming it. Parts were softened out of concerns that the film would be targeted for depicting miscegenation (despite an eyebrow-raising twist at the end that I won’t spoil here), emphasizing that Ahmed didn’t subject Diana to physical harm during her captivity. Rather awkwardly, Valentino’s narrow eyes were made up to appear rounder and his naturally tan skin tone was lightened. His hands are still noticeably darker than his face, contrasting strongly with Ayres’ delicate pale skin–likely on purpose since the script mentions Ahmed grasping her “white, trembling hands in his firm brown grip.” Interestingly, posters and lobby cards do show Valentino’s Ahmed with a darker complexion. His iconic “sheik” costumes of flowing robes, sashes, tassels and turbans were designed by his significant other Natasha Rambova, who was deeply interested in all things Far East herself.

The Sheik (1921) Rudolph Valentino Costume Design
Valentino’s extravagant costume design by Natasha Rambova

The Sheik was shot on location in the Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, where the desert dunes were a good stand-in for Northern Africa–or its romanticized version. The studio set up two large camps full of extras, making the production feel like a large-scale desert expedition. The director, George Melford, was a fan of westerns and enlisted a number of experienced horsemen for some of the shots. He was happy to discover that Valentino was already an experienced horseback rider and was game to do any sort of action the film needed. Natasha later said Valentino was “in his element.”

A bit of Hollywoodland magic was needed for some of the exotic exteriors. An oasis was created by designing a number of full-size palm trees out of painted wood and canvas. These trees would later end up as decorations in the famous Cocoanut Grove at L.A.’s Ambassador Hotel. Bits of Pathe stock footage of an Algerian town were spliced in for some scenes, giving a bit of realism–but not too much. The overall effect was supposed to be more of an exotic fantasy than strict recreation of real life, and many interior shots took place in elaborate tents where the sides gently fluttered in the breeze and lush curtains framed the scenes. Melford also liked filming scenes through Moorish-shaped doorways, trying to add as much atmosphere as he could.

The Sheik (1921) Rudolph Valentino Agnes Ayres lobby card
“The Sheik is the hectic tale of an English girl in the clutches of an Arabian chief”

The acting, a bit infamously, was also part of the fantasy. Melford like some of the pantomime-inspired tricks Valentino used, like widening his eyes to show desire, and encouraged it to an extreme. Similarly, Agnes Ayres shows a rather limited range of exaggerated emotions, mainly fear, anger, and of course, love. It all makes for a lot of amusement today, but there were a few scenes that Valentino managed to transcend–mainly a key scene where he feels remorse for frightening Diana. His gaze straight into the camera has an arresting quality that can still mesmerize us today.

The Sheik (1921) Rudolph Valentino
Valentino as Ahmed Ben Hassan

The Sheik was a big hit of course, although reviews were mixed. There was quite a bit of snark about the acting, and there were even many complaints that the plot wasn’t as spicy as the book. But it was generally agreed that Valentino carried the film well–and there’s no doubt that his fans thought so. The Sheik officially made the young actor a phenomenon, one of the biggest stars of the 1920s–and biggest names in film history in general. And while his first major starring film might be hard for 21st century audiences to take seriously, it also has a kitschy charm that’s hard to forget. 

–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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