What’s Streaming on Best Classics Ever in May 2022 John Wayne, Moms Love Mystery, and More!
May is a big month for movies, as our friends at Best Classics Ever are debuting three all-new collections just in time for Memorial Day, Mother’s Day, and John Wayne’s birthday.
Are
you a fan of classic war films? This month’s Memorial Day Collection features classics starring
James Cagney (Blood on the Sun), Ingrid Bergman (Arch of
Triumph), and Van Johnson (Go for Broke!), plus the Best
Classics Ever debut of The Big Lift, Three Came Home,
Battle of Blood Island, The Steel Claw, Iron
Angel, Hell In Normandy, and Wake Me When the War
Is Over.
Fans
can also celebrate Mother’s Day all month long with the Moms Love Mystery collection
featuring classic whodunits and noir thrillers such as The Lady Confessesstarring Mary Beth Hughes and Hugh Beaumont, and Nancy Drew… Reporter,
the second Warner Bros. feature film starring Bonita Granville as the iconic
sleuth.
On
May 26, film fans will celebrate the birthday of the legendary John Wayne – born in 1907 in Winterset, Iowa. Best Classics Ever is
paying tribute with its first Wayne collection: For the Love of The Duke,
featuring eight Wayne westerns from the 1930s and 40s, plus his rare comedic
appearance opposite Evalyn Knapp in 1933’s His Private
Secretary.
There’s more mystery on the way this month, as
Classic Movie Hub celebrates with a trio of FREE Mysterious May features:
A Shriek In the Night,
And Then There Were None, and Cheating Blondes. Also, John Wayne’s not the only one
celebrating a birthday in May. Classic Movie Hub invites you to stream more May
Birthdays with James Mason and David O’Selznick (A Star is
Born), Fred Astaire (Royal Wedding), Mary Astor (The
Kennel Murder Case), and John Payne (Kansas City Confidential).
Here’s
the list of everything happening at Best Classics Ever in May:
Memorial
Day Collection
Blood on the Sun (1945) The Last Time I Saw Paris (1954) Arch of Triumph (1948) Stage Door Canteen (1943) Three Came Home (1950) The Big Lift (1950) Go For Broke! (1951) Battle of Blood Island (1960) The Steel Claw (1961) Iron Angel (1964) Hell In Normandy (1968) Wake Me When the War Is Over (1969) Black Brigade (1970)
Moms
Love Mystery Collection
Nancy Drew, Reporter (1939) Blonde Ice (1948) Lady Gangster (1942) The Lady Confesses (1945) Hold That Woman! (1940) Big Town After Dark (1947)
For the Love of The Duke: The John Wayne Collection
His Private Secretary (1933) The Dawn Rider (1935) West of the Divide (1934) The Trail Beyond (1934) The Desert Trail (1935) Rainbow Valley (1935) The Star Packer (1934) The Lawless Frontier (1934) Angel and the Badman (1947)
Classic
Movie Hub Presents… Mysterious May
A Shriek In the Night (1933) And Then There Were None (1945) Cheating Blondes (1933)
Classic
Movie Hub Presents… May Birthdays
A Star Is Born (1937) Kansas City Confidential (1952) The Kennel Murder Case (1933) Royal Wedding (1951)
About Best Classics Ever:Obsessed with classic cinema? So are we! At Best Classics Ever, you can stream an epic library of beloved films and television shows, including rare gems waiting to be rediscovered, from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Even better, Best Classics Ever is a community for film fans to learn more about their favorite movies and stars. Watch exclusive interviews and insight from today’s top cinema historians, hosts, and writers FREE without a subscription at our Hollywood Canteen. Best Classics Ever is available for mobile and desktop and on Roku, Amazon Fire TV, iOS, and Android devices.
Actress and dancer Virginia Dale was born Virginia Paxton in Charlotte, North Carolina, on July 1, 1917. Her parents were mechanic Joel Paxton and Lula Helms Paxton. Dale was one of six children: Jay, Frances, Frieda, Joey, and an unnamed infant. Tragically, the infant and Frieda did not survive to adulthood.
As a child, Dale attended schools in the Charlotte area. She later worked with her sister, Frances, to develop a dance act called The Paxton Sisters, leading her to appear in Broadway shows such as Him and The Final Balance. The duo was discovered by Darryl F. Zanuck at a New York nightclub and signed a contract with 20th Century Fox, where Dale took on the stage name of Virginia Dale.
Virginia Dale and Fred Astaire in Holiday Inn (1942)
In the 1950s, she transitioned to television, appearing in shows such as The Adventure Patrol and The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp. Dale appeared in Love That Brute (1950) and Danger Zone (1951) in the 1950s before culminating her on-screen work with the television miniseries Nutcracker: Money, Madness & Murder.
Dale passed away from emphysema on October 3, 1994, at 77
years old. She was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park—Hollywood Hills in Los
Angeles, California.
Today, there are very few locations in connection to Dale’s
life that exist, though some have been razed over time. Her 1920 home at 24 S.
Cecil St., Charlotte, North Carolina, no longer stands, as is the case for her
family’s 1930 home at 1103 E. 9th St., Charlotte, North Carolina.
By 1935, she was living with her sister, Frances at the
Hotel Edison, which stands today at 228 W. 47th St., New York, New
York.
Dale’s residence at the Hotel Edison, 228 West 47th Street, New York, NY
Her 1948 home at 3231 Hyperion Ave., Los Angeles,
California, no longer remains.
Forest Lawn Memorial Park—Hollywood Hills is located at 6300
Forest Lawn Dr., Los Angeles, California.
While there aren’t many locations to visit in her memory, several of her films are commercially available to enjoy today.
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.
A frequently seen theme in the Western film
genre is a disparate band of travelers banding together against a common foe,
most often Indians.
One of the most famous Westerns featuring this theme is John Ford‘s Stagecoach (1939). Two lesser-known but solid examples which have been featured here in previous posts are Dragoon Wells Massacre (1957), which I wrote about here in November 2020, and Escort West (1958), which I discussed in May 2021.
This month we’ll look at another film with this storyline, Ambush at Cimarron Pass (1958). Ambush at Cimarron Pass was a Regal Film distributed by 20th Century-Fox. It stars Scott Brady, Margia Dean, and Clint Eastwood, who had started his film career in small roles just three years previously.
It’s nice to note that
two of the film’s cast members, Eastwood and Dean, are still with us today.
Eastwood will be 92 in May 2022, and I was inspired to watch this film thanks
to the recent 100th birthday of the film’s leading lady, Margia Dean. Dean was
born April 7, 1922.
Another cast member, Ray
Boyle, just passed away very recently, in January 2022. Boyle, who plays Johnny
Willows, was 98.
Scott Brady, Frank Gerstle, and Clint Eastwood in Ambush at Cimarron Pass (1958)
Ambush at Cimarron Pass takes place shortly after the end of the
Civil War. Brady stars as Sergeant Matt Blake, who’s leading a small band of
cavalry soldiers through Apache territory. Their mission is to deliver a
shipment of guns to a fort a few days away, along with Corbin (Baynes Barron),
who has been arrested for his plans to sell the guns to Indians.
Along the way Blake and
his men are waylaid by a group of men led by former Southern officer Captain
Sam Prescott (Frank Gerstle). Prescott and his men, including Keith Williams
(Eastwood), are Southerners who resent the Yankee cavalry soldiers, but they
all have a much bigger problem dealing with Apache Indians. The two groups
agree to work together to get to the safety of the fort.
The Apaches soon show up
in the area with a woman they’ve kidnapped, Teresa (Dean), and use her as a
distraction to steal the group’s horses. The men find themselves having to walk
to the fort along with Teresa, their only protection being the rifles that the
Indians still want. It’s a true Catch-22: The rifles are a means to keep the
group alive, but the guns also attract the Indians who are determined to
acquire them.
A lobby card for the film
One by one several of
the men in the group are picked off by the Indians or die for other reasons,
ultimately leaving about half of the men and the one woman attempting to make
the last, most dangerous treacherous leg of the journey to the fort.
Ambush at Cimarron Pass is admittedly a rather middling movie; it’s
not particularly distinguished but it moves quickly, with a short 73-minute
running time, and I enjoyed watching it. It’s always interesting to me to see
what fresh spins filmmakers put on a tried-and-true story.
In addition to enjoying the familiar storyline, I particularly appreciated that the movie was filmed extensively at Iverson Movie Ranch, which I wrote about in my column last month. Much of the movie was shot outdoors in territory which has become quite familiar to me, and it was fun to watch the backgrounds closely and recognize places I’ve been.
The cast at Iverson Movie Ranch
Unfortunately some very
noticeable soundstage interiors are intercut with the outdoor filming, but that
was par for the course in the era. Happily most of the film was shot outside,
which gives the film a more authentic feel.
Brady, the younger brother of actor Lawrence Tierney, was a veteran of many Westerns, including some of my personal favorites such as The Gal Who Took the West (1949), Johnny Guitar (1954), and The Storm Rider (1957). He’s solid as the commanding Sergeant Blake, a natural leader who risks himself first, whether it’s going in alone to meet with Captain Prescott’s group or handing over his canteen to Williams.
Scott Brady as Sgt. Matt Blake
Without a great deal of
running time to work with, Eastwood sketches a character who begins with such
deep resentment of Yankees that he would have killed Blake if not interrupted.
Gradually he comes to realize that Captain Prescott’s wisdom is correct: They
must measure the man, not the uniform. When Sergeant Blake gives Williams his
canteen and tells him to hang on to it, he looks at Blake in a new way.
Dean’s character begins
as a traumatized woman who initially shows courage, managing to warn the men of
the Indians’ plans to steal the horses, but sadly it comes too late. Once
physically recovered from her ordeal, she quickly flips to being something of a
flirt, seemingly looking for a protector among the men.
When Williams asks
Teresa if she wants to go to Texas with him but doesn’t propose marriage, she
instead makes a move on Blake, clearly viewing him as a more dependable man.
And if his reaction to her kiss is any indication, she might have success in
landing him.
Scott Brady & Margia Dean
Dean was a former Miss California who played many bit parts in Lippert Productions, while Westerns such as this one gave her some of her biggest and best roles. Some years ago Dean shared career memories with Mike Fitzgerald for the Western Clippings site. In that interview she said, “I thought, at the time, Clint would be a star, but I never dreamed he’d become the superstar he is today.“
Dean didn’t care for her
leading man, Brady, and said they had a feud, but rather intriguingly she
shared fond memories of his brother Lawrence Tierney. Tierney was known in
Hollywood as a “tough guy” who could be on the scary side offscreen,
but she remembered him as “a very nice guy.”
In the supporting cast I particularly liked Gerstle as the Southern captain with a good head on his shoulders. The cast also includes Irving Bacon, William Vaughn, Ken Mayer, Keith Richards, John Damler, John Frederick, and Desmond Slattery.
The film was directed by Jodie Copelan, whose film career started with The Guilty (1947), a solid “B” suspense film starring Don Castle and Bonita Granville (as identical twins!). Copelan went back and forth from films to television, with his TV work including many episodes of The Gene Autry Show and The F.B.I.
Ambush at Cimarron Pass was written by Richard G. Taylor and John
K. Butler, based on a story by Robert A. Reeds and Robert W. Woods. It was
filmed in black and white Regalscope by John N. Nickolaus Jr.
I found Ambush
at Cimarron Pass a relatively minor yet enjoyable Western which was
worth a look. Eastwood fans will particularly want to check it out for insight
into the early stages of his career.
Ambush at Cimarron Pass is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Olive Films.
…
– 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 never wanted the world. Just room enough for the two of us.”
Mike Hammer has a strange cinematic history, especially when compared to other classic detectives. He toiled in B-movie adaptations while P.I. ‘s like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe were given the A-list treatment. Kiss Me Deadly (1955) is the lone Hammer film that’s considered a masterpiece, but even then, the treatment of the Hammer character and the plot as a whole was radically altered from the novel.
The writer behind Hammer, Mickey Spillane, hated Kiss Me Deadly, and would later try to nullify the film’s impact by starring in his own vehicle, The Girl Hunters (1963). It was a decent translation, but in his later years, Spillane himself admitted that it was lacking in style. In truth, the only film adaptation he spoke highly of was the first one: I, the Jury (1953). Overshadowed by the legacy of the aforementioned films, I, the Jury remains the most authentic Hammer experience ever put on the big screen.
Every thrill in the book… in 3-D.
The authenticity of the film can be traced to its creators. Victor Saville was a producer who saw a cash cow in Spillane’s paperbacks, and felt their blending of sex and violence would be undeniable if properly adapted. Harry Essex was a screenwriter who helped mold the terrain of 1950s film noir, and knew exactly how to pull excitement from predictable story beats. He was also keen on directing, and saw I, the Jury as a chance to showcase his talents.
As someone who was underwhelmed by the film on first viewing (Kiss Me Deadly was my only reference point at the time), I can now say that I, the Jury is the perfect entry into Hammer’s world. It goes to such great lengths to emulate the style of the novel that the character’s narration comes off as though he’s reading the actual pages. Essex proved himself to be an economical storyteller with the screenplays for Kansas City Confidential and The Las Vegas Story (both 1952), but here, he arranges scenes with a surgeon-like precision. It’s as though being forced to pare down the sex and violence found in the novel allowed Essex to expediate an already lean narrative, and the result is a breakneck 87 minutes.
Hammer mourns the loss of his best friend.
The story is really just a premise: Hammer (Biff Elliot) discovers that his old army buddy Jack Williams (Robert Swagner) was killed under mysterious circumstances in his apartment. The bull then proceeds to wreck the china shop that is New York as he tries to locate Williams’ killer and make them pay. Along the way, Hammer runs afoul of a cunning therapist (Peggie Castle) and a crackpot crime boss named Kalecki (Alan Reed).
Elliot was not a versatile actor, as evidenced by his relatively quiet career, but he’s effectively cast here. He does a fine job of capturing Hammer’s blunt-force approach to detection, and his ability to seem at once dense and thoughtful is trickier than it may initially seem. It’s nothing remarkable, especially when compared with the heightened vanity that Ralph Meeker brought to the part in Kiss Me, Deadly, but it’s direct and visceral. Elliot’s choices look even better when compared to the softer, less edgy performances given by Robert Bray in My Gun Is Quick (1957) and Darren McGavin in the TV series Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer (1957-59).
Hammer tussles with an endless array of heavies.
The supporting cast are made up of reliable character actors, starting with the aforementioned Castle (the self-appointed “girl they loved to kill”) and running down to Preston Foster as Hammer’s steadfast police connection, Pat Chambers. They rattle off the curt Spillane dialogue with glee, while leaning into the two-dimensional aspects of their respective characters. Nobody does this better than Elisha Cook, Jr. as Bobo, a simpleton who manages to win us over despite having ties to a deadly gang. The shot of a slain Cook, dressed as Santa Claus, and laying on a stoop, is arguably the most noirish Christmas image of all time.
The stunning imagery doesn’t stop there. I, the Jury may benefit from taut direction and a colorful cast, but it’s the cinematography by John Alton that truly pushes it into cult classic territory. The film unveils one gorgeous sequence after another, whether it be the pulsing neon conversation in Hammer’s office or the single-light source interrogation conducted by Kalecki’s men. Then there’s the 3-D component, which Alton had to take into account during production. The film was originally made to capitalize on the 3-D craze of the 1950s, and the cinematographer’s deft handling of cigarette butts and various room structures gives the film a subtlety and cleverness that few 3-D releases could match. The fact that it works as both a 3-D and 2-D release is a testament to its overall quality.
Hammer looks on from the slain Bobo.
Then there’s the ending. Hammer navigates his way through a twisted web of lies and murder, and finds himself at the apartment of his therapist squeeze. He figured out her involvement in Williams’ death, and he holds a gun on her from the moment she enters. She proceeds to undress, partially out of practicality and partially out of an attempt to seduce him. The dialogue grows increasingly intense, with the emotions of both characters bubbling closer to the surface. Alton’s camera fixes in on the couple during their final embrace, and then we hear, beneath the frame, the firing of a gun. It’s unclear who was shot, until the therapist drops to the floor. “How could you?” she asks, to which an unflinching Hammer states: “It was easy.”
It’s a breathtaking scene, manifesting all of the sex and death and that makes the Hammer novels so enticing. It’s the best ever distillation of the character and his detached worldview, and for Alton, one of his best ever visual showcases. It would justify the price of admission on its own.
I, the Jury should not be approached as a masterpiece. It’s a cheap film noir that sets out to entertain, and it does precisely that. If you approach the film on these very simple foundations, then you will be endlessly pleased.
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.
Silents are Golden: A Closer Look At – The King of Kings (1927)
In the mid-1920s, after being known primarily for melodramas and light comedies with battle-of-the-sexes themes, famed director Cecil B. DeMille was starting to move in a more “epic” direction. Being interested in religious themes, ancient settings and of course spectacle, he combined all of the above in his first version of The Ten Commandments(1923), even working in a modern story as a framework. His second foray into the Bible would be an even more prestigious project: the most high-budget and detailed depiction of the life of Christ on film to date.
Joseph Striker, Micky Moore, H.B. Warner, and Ernest Torrence in The King of Kings (1927)
In a time when churches were a prominent part
of American life, it promised to be a highly-anticipated film. It would have to
be handled with the proper reverence and dignity, the New Testament stories
being so near and dear to countless people. DeMille was careful to do justice
to its pious subject, frequently consulting with clergymen, and also added bits
of warmth and humanity to the depiction of Jesus Christ that are still touching
today.
Opulent sets and cutting-edge technical
innovations, from lighting to camerawork, would also enhance the story,
including some scenes being filmed in Technicolor. Recent advancements made it
possible to get pure, colorized images without the usual graininess, which
served as effective emphasis for the Resurrection sequence. Many of the
intertitles would directly quote the Bible, with chapter and verse included,
lending authenticity to the production as well as reminding the audience how
faithful it was to the Bible.
Robert Edeson, Julia Faye, Josephine Norman, Joseph Striker, Kenneth Thomson, and H.B. Warner
For the exceptionally important starring role DeMille chose H.B. Warner, a dignified-looking actor best known today as Mr. Gower in It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). Warner, who was in his fifties at the time of The King of Kings(almost two decades older than the actress who played Jesus’ mother Mary!), had a background in Broadway and had acted in films since 1914. Unsurprisingly, the role of Jesus Christ would be the most famous of his silent career. The Virgin Mary would be played by Dorothy Cumming, who would later appear in Our Dancing Daughtersand The Wind(both 1928). Both Warner and Cumming were contractually obligated to only play wholesome characters for five years, so they wouldn’t detract from their roles as Jesus and Mary. Interestingly, they also had to be somewhat “method” and refrain from “un-Biblical” activities during the production, such as playing cards or driving cars.
H.B. Warner as Jesus Christ
Simon Peter would be played by character actor Ernest Torrence, most recognizable from Steamboat Bill Jr.(1928), and Austrian-born Joseph Schildkraut was chosen for the key role of Judas Iscariot, perhaps his most prominent role since D.W. Griffith’s Orphans of the Storm(1922). And these are just a few of the key players in the enormous cast which, if we count extras, numbered in the thousands.
Victor Varconi as Pontius Pilate and Majel Coleman as Proculla in The King of Kings (1927)
More than a few scenes in The King of Kings are inspired, such as the first shot of Jesus
Christ being from the point of view of a blind child whose eyesight he
miraculously heals. Another memorable scene shows a little girl asking Jesus if
he heals broken legs. When he says yes, she gravely asks if he can heal her
legless doll. With a smile, he does.
Movie poster featuring Muriel McCormac and Michael D. Moore
Other plot choices can seem a little strange to anyone familiar with the Gospels. Mary Magdalene is traditionally considered to have reformed from a life of prostitution, but in The King of Kings (1927) she’s a powerful courtesan with lavish clothes and a chariot drawn by zebras. She’s romantically involved with Judas Iscariot to boot. Of course, these scenes also served to add the kind of “sin and spectacle” that feature in many DeMille films.
Jacqueline Logan as Mary Magdalene in The King of Kings (1927)
The King
of Kings was the first film to premiere at Sid
Grauman’s newly-built Grauman’s Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard in Los
Angeles. The “Exotic Revival-style” building, which stands proudly to this day,
hosted the lavish premiere on May 18, 1927. All the big names of Hollywood
attended, making the premiere a major industry event. Shown in its original,
“road show” version, The King of Kings ran
about 155 minutes long. It would later be trimmed to 112 minutes for general
release.
The King of Kings (1927) movie premiere at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre
The epic film was highly praised by critics, who admired the high quality of DeMille’s filmmaking and the reverential way he brought the tale of Christ to life. Audiences must’ve agreed, for The King of Kings was a big box office hit, helped by a strong marketing campaign where schools were encouraged to dismiss students early so they could see it. It’s thought to have grossed around $500 million in the late 1920s, making it one of the highest-grossing films of 1927 (only beat by Wingsand The Jazz Singer).
Billboards for DeMille’s film
The history of The King of Kings has an interesting aftermath. The Temple of Jerusalem set, built on a backlot in Culver City, ended up in King Kong(1933) and then the David O. Selznick film The Garden of Allah(1936). Its last appearance was in Gone With the Wind(1939), where it served as some of the warehouses that were destroyed during the “burning of Atlanta” sequence.
Today, The King of Kings is no longer as well known as it used to be, but it survives in lovely quality and makes occasional appearances at silent film festivals. And of course, it has always been and will always be a perfect film to enjoy during the thoughtful season of Lent.
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.
His Girl Friday was adapted from the 1928 Broadway play, The Front Page, which, in turn, was adapted into the 1931 film The Front Page. All three versions revolve around the same storyline, more or less, with one key difference — reporter Hildy Johnson was a male character in The Front Page (Lee Tracy 1928, Pat O’Brien 1931), while Hildy is female in His Girl Friday. The recasting of Hildy as a woman adds a fun romantic spin, courtesy of Rosalind Russell as Hildy, Cary Grant as newspaper editor Walter Burns (and Hildy’s ex-husband), and poor Ralph Bellamy as Bruce Baldwin (Hildy’s fiancé). Need I say more?
Adolphe Menjou as Walter Burns and Pat O’Brien as Hildy Johnson in The Front Page (1931)
Cary Grant as Walter Burns and Rosalind Russell as Hildy Johnson in His Girl Friday (1940)
Cliff Edwards (also known as “Ukelele Ike”) and Jiminy Cricket
Billy Gilbert and Sneezy
Claudette Colbert and Roscoe Karns (as Shapley) in It Happened One Night (1934)
Gene Lockhart as Judge Henry X. Harper in Miracle on 34th Street (1947)
…..
3) Can you say inside joke?
Well, I just love waiting for the two big inside jokes during this film:
1) When Cary Grant (who was born Archibald Leach) says “Listen, the last man that said that to me was Archie Leach just a week before he cut his throat.” – and…
2) When Cary Grant says (about Bruce Baldwin played by Ralph Bellamy) “He looks like, uh, that fellow in the movies, you know, Ralph Bellamy.”
But, I just learned of a third (potential) inside joke, or perhaps coincidence(?):
3) When Cary Grant (who played the Mock Turtle in 1933’s Alice in Wonderland) says “Get back in there you Mock Turtle!”
Cary mentions Archie Leach 🙂
…..
4) Do I hear wedding bells?
Although Cary Grant’s character was plotting to live ‘happily ever after’ with Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday — in real life, Cary was actually setting the wheels in motion for Roz to meet her soul mate and lifetime love, Frederick Brisson. Roz and Freddie were married in 1941 and did live ‘happily ever after’. And Cary Grant was Best Man at their wedding. 🙂 You can read more about it here at rozrussell.com.
Cary Grant (Best Man) at Rosalind Russell and Frederick Brisson’s wedding (1941)
…..
5) I’ll say it again, poor Ralph Bellamy
Ralph Bellamy was also on the losing side of love in The Awful Truth (1937) — another screwball comedy in which ex-husband Cary Grant tries to win back ex-wife Irene Dunne, outmaneuvering poor Ralph Bellamy yet again :). By the way, The Awful Truth was also based on a play (The Awful Truth 1922) and was also a remake of an earlier film (The Awful Truth 1929).
Cary Grant, Ralph Bellamy and Irene Dunne in The Awful Truth (1937)
…..
Well, those were my five facts, but here are a few extra bonuses, for those so inclined 🙂
His Girl Friday was released nationally in the US on January 18, 1940, which also just so happened to be Cary Grant’s 36th birthday (born Jan 18 1904).
The film was inducted by The Library of Congress into the National Film Registry in 1993.
In addition to His Girl Friday, director Howard Hawks made two more films with both Cary Grant and screenwriter Charles Lederer, both also screwball comedies – I Was a Male War Bride (1949) and Monkey Business (1952). Hawks would also work with Cary Grant on two more films (Bringing Up Baby and Only Angels Have Wings), as well as with Lederer on two more films (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and The Thing from Another World although Hawks is uncredited).
A few classic movie coincidences here:
Alice in Wonderland (1933) featured Cary Grant as The Mock Turtle and Roscoe Karns as Tweedledee.
Miracle on 34th Street (1947) featured Porter Hall as the nervous, ill-tempered store ‘psychologist’ and Gene Lockhart as honorable Judge Henry X. Harper.
Regis Toomey appeared in The Bishop’s Wife with Cary Grant, Man’s Favorite Sport with Roscoe Karns, You’re in the Army Now with Clarence Kolb, and They Died with Their Boots On as well as Meet John Doe with Gene Lockhart
AND – as part of our partnership with Best Classics Ever – you can stream His Girl Friday for free this month on the Classic Movie Hub Channel. Just click here, join for free (no obligation), scroll down and click on the CMH Channel button — and watch for free. Lots of other free movies to watch every month as well, so feel free to explore.
Earlier this year, I decided to take a look at my favorite
films noirs – a task that I periodically love to tackle because, depending on
the season, my mood, or even the time of day, my favorites are subject to
change. My January 2022 Noir Nook served up the first five of my current Top 10
list, which consisted of those films that generally wind up on any Top 10 noir
compilation I can come up with. This month, I’m wrapping up my Top 10 list with
five that might not make my list later this year, but they’re tops in my book
today!
Detour (1945)
Tom Neal in Detour (1945)
Gritty, unapologetic, and made on the cheap, Detour gives you 68 minutes of pure, straight-no-chaser noir.
The story – told in flashback – centers on Al Roberts (Tom
Neal), a barely-making-it piano player who decides to hitchhike his way from
New York to Hollywood to join his singer girlfriend (Claudia Drake). Along the
way, Al catches a ride with a bookie who winds up dead, and he gets more than
he bargained for when he takes the dead man’s car, assumes his identity, and
picks up a hitchhiking dame named Vera. It’s Al’s bad luck that Vera knows that
he’s not who he says he is.
Vera is played by Ann Savage with a demeanor that matches
her name – she practically spits out her lines like they’re a personal affront
to her mouth. From her first words to Al, Vera lets him (and us) know that
she’s no fool; she not only calls him out on his lies, but by sheer force of
will – and a little extortion – she ropes him into a scheme that’s designed to
lead to a big payday but ends up badly for all concerned.
Favorite quote: “I’m not gettin’ sore. But just remember who’s boss around here. If you shut up and don’t give me any arguments, you’ll have nothing to worry about. But if you act wise – well, mister, you’ll pop into jail so fast it’ll give you the bends!” – Vera (Ann Savage)
The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)
John Garfield, Hume Cornyn and Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)
Based on a novel by James M. Cain, The Postman Always Rings Twice tells the tale of a drifter, Frank Chambers (John Garfield), who teams with his married lover, Cora Smith (Lana Turner), to murder Cora’s husband. Postman was one of the first noirs I ever saw, many years before I knew what film noir was. When Lana Turner first appeared on the screen in her white shorts set, turban and high heels, I was hooked, and I’ve loved it ever since.
The film’s first-rate cast also includes Cecil Kellaway as Cora’s hapless husband; Leon Ames and Hume Cronyn as a pair of wily attorneys; and Audrey Totter, who played a small, but memorable role as a short skirt-wearing dame who catches Frank’s eye. Also on board was Alan Reed, as Hume Cronyn’s assistant-turned-blackmailer. (If you don’t know Reed’s name or face, you might recognize his voice – he was the man behind the growling tones of TV’s Fred Flintstone.)
Favorite quote: “Stealing a man’s wife, that’s nothing, but stealing a man’s car, that’s larceny.” – Frank Chambers (John Garfield)
Night and the City (1950)
Richard Widmark in Night and the City (1950)
When people talk about film noir features, I don’t hear a lot about Night and the City. And that’s a real shame. Because it is top-notch, irrefutable, pure noir, from start to finish. It stars Richard Widmark in one of his best performances, as Harry Fabian, a small-time conman who dines daily on dreams of grandeur. Harry imposes a never-ending stream of get-rich-quick schemes on his long-suffering girlfriend Mary (Gene Tierney), but he thinks he’s really hit the big time when he plans to take over the local wrestling racket. Unfortunately for Harry, local mob leader Kristo (Herbert Lom) has other ideas.
Although the film is justifiably viewed today as a stellar
example of the classic film noir era, critics were unimpressed upon the film’s
release. A typical opinion was offered by The New York Times’ Bosley
Crowther, who savaged the picture, calling it a “pointless, trashy yarn.”
Crowther went on to say that the screenplay was “without any real dramatic
virtue, reason or valid story-line . . . little more than a melange of maggoty
episodes.” (Geez, tell us how you really feel, Bosley!)
Favorite quote: “Harry, do you know what you’re doing? You’re killing me. You’re killing me and yourself.” – Mary Bristol (Gene Tierney)
The Asphalt Jungle (1950)
Sterling Hayden, Anthony Caruso, Sam Jaffe and James Whitmore in The Asphalt Jungle (1950)
I dearly love a good heist movie, and The Asphalt Jungle is truly one of the best. It depicts a motley crew of crooks who come together to execute a jewel heist planned by career criminal “Doc” Riedenschneider (Sam Jaffe), who has recently been released from prison. The participants include Dix Handley (Sterling Hayden), a “hooligan” from Kentucky who’s hired to be the muscle of the endeavor; safecracking expert Louis Ciavelli (Anthony Caruso); Gus Minissi (James Whitmore), a hunchbacked diner owner who serves as the getaway driver; Alonzo Emmerich (Louis Calhern), a crooked attorney who’s retained to fence the stolen jewels; and small-time bookie Cobby (Marc Lawrence). The heist is pulled off without a hitch but, like the best-laid plans of mice and men, the scheme goes wildly awry.
The distaff side of the cast includes an early appearance by Marilyn Monroe, as Emmerich’s beautiful but childlike mistress, who calls him “Uncle Lon” and gleefully exclaims “Yipe!” to express her excitement.
Favorite quote: “Frankly, I don’t like the guy, but I never saw a hooligan I did like. They’re like left-handed pitchers. They all have a screw loose somewhere.” – Louis Ciavelli (Anthony Caruso)
The Big Heat (1953)
Gloria Grahame and Lee Marvin in The Big Heat (1953)
This is the one where a luckless dame gets a pot full of boiling coffee thrown in her face. I don’t know about you, but I knew about this vicious act long before I ever saw the film – and the movie lived up to every expectation generated by that scene. The Big Heat stars Glenn Ford as Dave Bannion, a straight-as-an-arrow detective and loving family man who goes on a vendetta when his wife (Jocelyn Brando) is killed by a car bomb meant for him. Bannion winds up not only battling the bad guys responsible for his wife’s death, but also his fellow officers of the law who are in cahoots with the mob.
Incidentally, the thrower of the aforementioned coffee was Vince Stone, played with spot-on menace by Lee Marvin, and the throwee (if you will) was Gloria Grahame who, for my money, stole every scene she was in as Debby Marsh, Vince’s irreverent, money-loving girlfriend.
Favorite quote: “The main thing is to have the money. I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Believe me, rich is better.” – Debby Marsh (Gloria Grahame)
What movies are in your top 10 films noirs? Leave a comment and let me know!
…
– 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:
Fox made many of these light musical comedies during the war years, and several feature a South American theme with Brazilian star Carmen Miranda.
I turn to Fox’s cheerful Technicolor musicals whenever I really need a morale booster, and That Night in Rio (1941) is one my favorites. Directed by Irving Cummings, this effervescent musical comedy has more plot than some of its peers but plenty of songs from the studio’s most reliable singing stars, with Alice Faye, Don Ameche, and Carmen Miranda in the lead roles. The talented cast, catchy songs, and lively comedy combine to make a truly entertaining picture, even if its vision of Rio is pure soundstage fiction. Watching That Night in Rio is the cinematic equivalent of Vitamin C; everything about it is fun, bright, and lively, but best of all is a scene-stealing performance from the incomparable Carmen Miranda, who moves up to leading lady status alongside her frequent Fox costars.
Don Ameche stars in a dual role as both American actor Larry Martin and lookalike playboy Baron Manuel Duarte, with Larry impersonating the Baron after a shady business scheme lands the Baron and his colleagues in big trouble. Larry is keen to take the job in order to romance the Baron’s beautiful American wife, Cecilia (Alice Faye), even though his hands are already full with his jealous girlfriend, Carmen (Carmen Miranda). While the Baron’s suspicious business rival Machado (J. Carrol Naish) watches for signs of financial weakness, the Baron’s pals (S.Z. Sakall, Leonid Kinskey, and Curt Bois) try to keep Larry from being discovered, but Larry seems more interested in wooing Cecilia.
Carmen (Miranda) and Larry (Ameche), open the picture with a lively musical number that highlights North and South American goodwill.
The plot of That Night in Rio is hardly original, as it’s one of several films based on the 1934 play, The Red Cat. Maurice Chevalier, Ann Sothern, and Merle Oberon had starred in a 1935 adaptation called Folies Bergère de Paris, and in 1951 Danny Kaye, Gene Tierney, and Corinne Calvet would revisit the material in On the Riviera. For the 1941 version, the setting was moved to Rio de Janeiro as part of Hollywood’s charm offensive toward South America; the United States’ “Good Neighbor Policy” encouraged positive depictions of North and South American relations, which led to similar Fox movies like Down Argentine Way (1940), Week-End in Havana (1941), and The Gang’s All Here (1943), as well as Disney’s Saludos Amigos (1942) and The Three Caballeros (1944). You don’t have to be aware of the material’s history or the propaganda angle to enjoy the movie, but it’s worth noting that Fox gave Carmen Miranda more opportunities as part of its effort to woo South American viewers, and for that reason musical fans should be eternally grateful.
Larry might fool others with his Baron impersonation, but Carmen quickly realizes his true identity when she arrives at the Baron’s house.
It’s ironic that such a frothy, light comedy focuses
on a story about two couples attempting infidelity, but Ameche’s dual role
helps smooth the way for hijinks that might otherwise have raised eyebrows with
the censors. Larry wants to romance Cecilia in spite of being in a relationship
with Carmen, and it’s clear that Carmen’s jealousy has some grounds from
Larry’s past behavior. The Baron has a little address book that he still
carries even though he has been married to Cecilia for several years, and his
reputation as a Don Juan is so well known that Larry’s stage impersonation of
the Baron reveals him dallying with dozens of pretty girls. Fed up with their
partners’ bad behavior, Carmen and Cecilia decide that turnabout is fair play,
but the doppelgangers make it hard to know if it’s Larry or the Baron they’re
embracing. Everything works out in the end, of course, and a split screen
finally allows Ameche to appear as both characters at the same time, each with
his respective lady.
Cecilia (Faye) tries to get revenge on the Baron for his deceptions, but her scheme backfires, much to her dismay.
Alice Faye is soulful and glamorous as Cecilia, and
her songs highlight her beautiful, low voice, while Ameche plays both Larry and
the Baron with aplomb, but this is Carmen Miranda’s movie every second she’s
onscreen, and she’s so amazingly charismatic that it doesn’t even matter what
she’s doing. Tiny, feisty, and decked in beads, Miranda proves her tremendous
talent for comedy in this picture, and she manages to convey everything the
audience needs to know even when she isn’t speaking English. Her songs are, of
course, fantastic, but she’s just as much fun when throwing her shoes at
Larry’s head or gushing over his latest gift. While it’s true that there’s a
stereotypical “Latin firecracker” element to Hollywood’s presentation of
Miranda, her joy as a performer and her impeccable comic timing transcend all
labels, and it’s a shame she wasn’t allowed to become a top-billed comedy icon
on her own terms. In this movie, at least, she gets a big role, lots of screen
time, several great songs, and is treated as an equal star instead of a
specialty act. She doesn’t waste the opportunity, and even her costar Don
Ameche seems on the verge of cracking up during some of their scenes. From her
opening number, “Chica Chica Boom Chic,” all the way to the finale, Miranda
keeps the audience enraptured; you simply can’t watch her without grinning from
ear to ear at her talent, humor, and enthusiasm.
At the end of the movie, we finally see both of Don Ameche’s characters onscreen at the same time, and each one gets to go home his own leading lady.
Sadly, Carmen Miranda only appeared in 22 films, and mostly as a musical act, but for more of her Hollywood career see Down Argentine Way (1940), The Gang’s All Here (1943), and Copacabana (1947). For more movies starring both Alice Faye and Don Ameche, try In Old Chicago (1938), Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938), Hollywood Cavalcade (1939), and Lillian Russell (1940). Irving Cummings, a veteran of the silent era, also directed several of these Fox musicals as well as The Story of Alexander Graham Bell (1939). Despite his popularity in the 30s and 40s, Don Ameche did not win an Oscar until 1986, when his performance in Cocoon (1985) earned him the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.
An overprotective widow looking out for her husband’s
masterwork – and her bank account. A disastrous miscalculation by filmmakers
that brought down a fledgling studio. A legal order for the destruction of an
artistic work.
That should have been the end of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent vampire film Nosferatu. Yet somehow, this movie that should have been lost to us forever, has survived to celebrate its 100th anniversary while being hailed as a masterpiece for its artistry, atmosphere and unsettling imagery.
Here’s the story.
In Nosferatu, Count Orlok (Max Schreck) is not the romantic figure we are used to seeing in vampire films. Instead, he is a terrifying, demonic sight: tall and emaciated with pointy ears, rat-like teeth and hands like claws. (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
* * * * *
Weeks before Bram Stoker’s celebrated Gothic vampire novel Dracula was published in 1897, the author had the foresight to have a dramatic reading at London’s Lyceum Theater that would protect its stage rights. After his death in 1912, his widow, Florence Stoker, took it upon herself to protect all rights to the novel, including film.
A decade later, she learned that a German vampire film called Nosferatu was made without requesting the rights to Dracula. Unable to afford the expenses, she enlisted help from the British Incorporated Society of Authors for this legal battle.
It’s not clear why the studio Prana Films did not seek the film rights before making Nosferatu. (They were later given for the stage starting in 1924 with Hamilton Deane, and screen with Universal Pictures in 1930.)
Perhaps the filmmakers thought adding “From the novel Dracula
by Bram Stoker” in the opening credits would be enough. Or that the many
changes from the novel including locations, names and vampire characteristics
made it clear that it wasn’t a direct adaptation of Stoker’s book.
The opening credits of Nosferatu included this acknowledgement to Bram Stoker’s novel, but it was not enough to stop a lawsuit for copyright infringement.
But the film was clearly inspired by it as is obvious by this description: A young real estate solicitor travels to a far-off castle where its inhabitant, a count, is feared by villagers. He falls victim to the count, who travels by sea with his coffins filled with Transylvanian earth to the solicitor’s village where death follows.
The lawsuit mulled about in the courts for anywhere from
three to seven years, depending on sources. Though Florence Stoker didn’t
receive the financial settlement she wanted, the legal fight resulted in
bankruptcy for Prana Films and the order for all copies to be destroyed.
Somehow – thankfully – that didn’t happen.
“Had Nosferatu not survived, the entire trajectory of
fantastic filmmaking could well have been materially altered – and greatly
impoverished,” wrote the late film critic Roger Ebert.
Making Nosferatu
Prana Films was an independent film company formed in 1921
by Enrico Dieckmann and Albin Grau to make movies with occult and supernatural
themes. (Prana is the Sanskrit word for “life force.”) Because of those legal
issues, Nosferatu would be its only film.
Grau was an occultist and artist who heard vampire tales in Serbia where he was a soldier in World War I. A farmer is said to have told him his father was one of the undead, sparking Grau’s interest in making a vampire film. Another story is that Grau was fascinated by watching a spider literally suck the life force out of a victim, as a vampire would. (You’ll note a similar scene of a spider and its prey in Nosferatu.)
Grau, also a graphic artist, first worked with Murnau designing
advertising and poster art for the director’s 1920 film Journey Into the
Night and brought him on for Nosferatu.
This screenshot from the documentary The Language of Shadows is one of the storyboards made by Albin Grau for Nosferatu. It shows Grau’s influence on the film from the look of the vampire to the scene where he carries a coffin in the village.
While Nosferatu is considered Murnau’s masterpiece, Grau’s imprint is all over the film. In addition to producing the film, Grau used his artistic talents as a set designer, storyboard artist and in creating the ghastly makeup for Count Orlok (played by Max Schreck). He also designed the extensive advertising for the film.
The film was adapted by another occultist, Henrick Galeen, who had written two Golem films, The Golem (1915, which he also directed) and The Golem: How He Came into the World (1920).
Changes from Dracula to Nosferatu
For Nosferatu, Galeen moved the story from 1890s London to Bremen, Germany during the plague of 1838. It was an astute change as the deaths in the film would be blamed on rats infesting the village with disease, thereby feeding on the audience’s real fears of plagues and the 1918 worldwide flu pandemic.
In Nosferatu, Hutter (played by Gustav von Wangenheim) is the film’s equivalent of Bram Stoker’s original character of Jonathan Harker. (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
Count Orlock replaced Count Dracula. Van Helsing and Lucy were among the discarded characters. Jonathan Harker and Mina became Thomas Hutter and wife, Ellen. Herr Knock was the name of Hutter’s creepy boss who served extra duty as a Renfield-like character who becomes insane after Orlok’s arrival.
The Count Dracula in Stoker’s book is well described as a tall, old man with a large white mustache, bushy eyebrows that almost form a unibrow, deep red lips and coarse hands with hairy palms and long, fine nails cut to sharp points. In movies starting with Bela Lugosi in the Universal original, Dracula was usually handsome, suave and seductive.
Count Orlok was none of that, instead carrying the repulsive look of a rat. His cadaverous body (a possible inspiration for Slender Man?) is topped by a thin, distorted face. Two long middle upper teeth added to the ratlike appearance. His baldness accentuated distinctive pointed ears, and his elongated arms had hands with horrifically long nails that curved like claws. He moves so painfully slow that it is somehow worse than if he had super speed.
Other notable changes go beyond Orlok’s appearance. He casts a reflection, which is startling to anyone used to the big scene where the vampire’s reflection is not in the mirror, giving away his identity.
The vampire casts a shadow In F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu, leading to magnificent imagery such as the monster on the stairway. (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
He also throws a shadow that Murnau masterfully uses for imagery that still haunts a century later. Most famous is Orlok’s shadow as he walks up the stairs to Ellen’s bedroom, his spindly fingers growing in horrific length as his hand reaches out to open her door.
Both counts must rest by day, but in Stoker’s novel Count Dracula was only weakened by the sun. The sunlight, however, can kill Orlok as it would do for a century of screen vampires who followed. This “death by sun” element seems to have been a big influence on later films. Those who argue that Nosferatu doesn’t deserve credit for that because it was out of circulation for a while, are forgetting the film was viewed on its initial release and in showings throughout Europe after all copies were thought to have been destroyed.
The film plot
Young Thomas Hutter’s boss Herr Knock receives a note from Count Orlok who wants to buy an empty house in their village. Anticipating a “tidy sum” for the sale, Herr Knock chooses a vacant building across from Hutter’s home and sends him off to make the sale.
The journey to Orlok’s castle goes through the famed Carpathian Mountains where the count’s name horrifies villagers. Adding to the uneasiness is the book OfVampyres Terrible Phantomsand the Seven Deadly Sins that Hutter finds in his room and nervously laughs off. Big mistake.
Finally at the castle, he dines with Orlok who quickly shows his true nature when Hutter accidentally cuts himself. The next morning, Hutter finds two “mosquito bites,” as he calls them in a letter to Ellen, on his neck.
From across the ocean, Ellen (Greta Schroeder) can feel her husband is in danger in Nosferatu. (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
Night 2 at the castle is even worse when, in one of the film’s most iconic scenes, Hutter opens his bedroom door to see the demonic Orlok. As Hutter is attacked, Ellen senses her husband is in danger and screams out for him from across the sea. Orlok, who formed a telepathic connection to Ellen after seeing her photo, can feel her emotions.
Hutter awakens to a living nightmare with Orlok loading coffins for his journey to his new home – and Ellen. To escape, he ties sheets together and climbs out the window, but falls and is delayed by a short hospital stay.
Murnau builds tension by cross-cutting the journeys of Orlok by sea and the weak Hutter by foot and horse. Somehow, they arrive at nearly the same time. The slow arrival of Orlok’s ghost ship into the harbor is an ominous sight, made worse once it’s discovered no one is on it. Written logs of rats and the “danger” of a plague are enough for the villagers to panic. Doors are marked for death and a quarantine is in place. The fear is underscored by a parade of coffins being carried down streets.
Ellen, who reads a book about Nosferatu (a vampire), realizes that the “plague” is Orlok and that only an “innocent maiden” can destroy the vampire. She willingly sacrifices herself to save her husband by drawing the vampire to her. Murnau helps the audience believe this selfless act with earlier scenes of her devotion, including one where Ellen keeps a vigil by the cold sea looking for her husband while she’s surrounded by crosses in the sand. It is another of Murnau’s haunting images.
Unlike most vampire films, Nosferatu does not focus
on Orlok attacking people, nor sucking blood. Though we see the fear on the
faces of Hutter and sailors, it’s only with Helen that Orlok is shown in
“vampire mode” and that is mostly in shadow.
How and what to watch
Like so many classic films in the public domain, it’s easy
to see Nosferatu, especially if you don’t care about quality. But you
should care and get the best film experience you can. Look for an official
release of the movie, especially since restorations are available.
The bluish tint signifies that this scene in Nosferatu is set at night, allowing Count Orlok (Max Schreck) to disguise himself as a coachman to bring Thomas Hutter to his castle. (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
Hopefully when you do see Nosferatu you will see it
with its original “tinting,” a technique used in silent films to depict time of
day. For example, yellow means daylight; a soft golden/amber glow signified
candlelight; pink was dawn and blue was night. Watch how carefully this is
done. As Hutter walks into his room with a candle, the room is bathed in amber;
when he blows out the candle the color immediately switches to blue to signify
darkness.
Kino Lorber released multiple versions of Nosferatuincluding an “Ultimate Edition” of the film in 2007 from a restoration done in 2005-06 by Luciano Berriatua on behalf of Friedrich-Wilhelm-Murnau-Stiftung, a foundation located in Wiesbaden, Germany to preserve his films and other German movies. A Deluxe Remastered Blu-ray edition was released in high-definition in 2013 and can be bought or watched on the digital platform Kino Now as well as other digital services.
Berriatúa also made a 60-minute documentary on Murnau with a focus on Nosferatu that is called The Language of Shadows. It goes into fascinating depth on the film’s locations with maps and comparisons clips and photos from the film to locations as they looked when the documentary was made in 2007.
Willem DaFoe starred as actor Max Schreck in Shadow of the Vampire.
More to watch
Need more Nosferatu? Here are three options that all use
the original look of Count Orlok.
Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979). Werner Herzog directed a nearly shot-by-shot remake of the 1922 classic for his film starring Klaus Kinski, Isabelle Adjani and Bruno Ganz.
Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot(1997). This original television miniseries directed by Tobe Hooper modeled the look of their vampire, who had the unassuming name of Burt Barlow, after Count Orlok. The image alone made it hard to watch for some of us.
Shadow of the Vampire (2000). A fictionalized movie about the making of Nosferatu that posits the idea that Max Schreck (played in the film by Willem DaFoe) was a real vampire. It is directed by E. Elias Merhige.
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.
Percy Helton was a beloved character actor during the Golden Age of Hollywood, in addition to performing on stage and television. He was born Percy Alfred Helton on January 31, 1894, in Manhattan, New York. His father was Alfred “Alf” Helton, who worked as a stage actor, and young Helton followed suit by the age of two. Helton worked alongside his father for many years in vaudeville and eventually made his Broadway debut, going on to work in stock theater and additional Broadway shows as the years went on.
During World War I, Helton joined the U.S. Army and was
deployed to Europe as part of the American Expeditionary Forces. He ultimately
received the Distinguished Service Cross for his time with the 77th
Infantry Division.
In 1931, Helton married actress Edna Eustace. They remained
together until his passing. The Heltons had no children.
After the war, Helton returned to acting and also sang professionally. After executing one particular role that required him to scream throughout the majority of the play day after day, Helton’s vocal cords were permanently damaged. His voice would be breathy and hoarse for the rest of his life and altered his career. While he remained an actor, he was predominantly a character actor. Most of his roles were in films noir and television programs. Some of his film roles include Miracle on 34th Street (1947) (as a drunken department store Santa Claus), Criss Cross(1949), The Set-Up (1949), Wicked Woman (1953), Kiss Me Deadly (1955), and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid(1969). His television credits include The Beverly Hillbillies, Petticoat Junction, Perry Mason, and Green Acres, to name a few.
Helton in an episode of Bonanza (1963)
Helton passed away on September 11, 1971 at the Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center at the age of 77. His ashes were interred at Pierce Brothers Westwood Village Memorial Park in Los Angeles, California.
Today, there are some buildings of relevance to Helton that
stand.
In 1910, Helton lived at 206 109th St.,
Manhattan, New York. The building stands today.
206 109th St., New York, New York
In 1920, Helton resided at 444 Central Park West, Manhattan,
New York. This is the location today:
444 Central Park West, New York, New York
In 1942, Helton and Edna resided at 37 W. 46th
St., New York, New York, which remains today.
37 W. 46th St., New York, New York
The Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center stands at 1300 N.
Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, California.
Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center at 1300 N. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, California
Helton is best celebrated through enjoying his many film and television performances.
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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