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.
What’s Streaming on Best Classics Ever in April 2022 Captain Kidd, His Girl Friday, Of Human Bondage and More!
With the arrival of spring, our friends at Best Classics Ever are leaving the long, cold winter behind and rolling out all-new collections of beloved movies and television shows that will take you back in time.
April sees the debut of Spring
Break Escapes, a collection of getaway and adventure classics,
including 1945’s Captain Kidd, starring Charles Laughton as the
famed pirate and captain of the sailing ship Adventure Galley. For those that
prefer land-based excitement, the collection features the 1933 Tarzan the
Fearless serial starring Buster Crabbe, 1940’s The Son of Monte
Cristo starring Joan Bennett and Louis Hayward, and episodes of the
1950’s British The Adventures of Robin Hood television show.
Spring Break is definitely the time to get away, but be careful you don’t have too much fun, or The Law Catches Up With You. This all-new collection of classic cop dramas will stream on Best Classics Ever and you can also stream it FREE 24/7 on the Best TV Ever channel on PLEX. The collection includes The Sheriff of Cochise, The Man Behind the Badge, Dragnet, and Federal Men (a.k.a. Treasury Men In Action).
Classic Movie Hub is also treating fans to a pair of FREE-to-stream collections in April, including our Springtime Fun collection, featuring favorites His Girl Friday, Happy Go Lovely, and His Private Secretary, among others. We’re also celebrating April birthdays with the films of Spencer Tracy (Father’s Little Dividend), Charlie Chaplin (The Kid), Bette Davis (Of Human Bondage), Gregory Peck (The Snows of Kilimanjaro), and William Holden (Our Town).
Plus, we can’t forget about one
very special birthday happening in April. The legendary Jack Nicholson turns 85
on April 22, and Best Classics Ever will celebrate the superstar’s iconic
career with three of his earliest feature film appearances. Stream The
Wild Ride and two Nicholson/Roger Corman collaborations — The
Little Shop of Horrors and The Terror — FREE April
22-24.
Here’s the list of everything
happening at Best Classics Ever in April:
Premieres April 1
Spring Break Escapes Collection: The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956) The Adventures of Robin Hood (1955) Sea Raiders (1941) Captain Kidd (1945) The Magic Sword (1962) Tarzan the Fearless (1933) The Son of Monte Cristo (1940)
Til the Law Catches Up With You (Also Streaming FREE on Best TV Ever): The Sheriff of Cochise (1956) The Man Behind the Badge (1953) Holt of the Secret Service (1941) Federal Men (1951) Dragnet (1967) Public Defender (1954)
Classic Movie Hub Presents… Springtime Fun: His Girl Friday (1940) My Favorite Brunette (1947) Happy Go Lovely (1951) His Private Secretary (1933) Springtime in the Rockies (1937)
Classic Movie Hub Presents… April Birthdays Father’s Little Dividend (1951) The Kid (1921) Of Human Bondage (1934) The Snows of Kilimanjaro (1952) Our Town (1940)
Streaming FREE April 22-24
The Wild Ride (1960)
The Little Shop of Horrors (1960)
The Terror (1963)
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.
“I got so mixed up I didn’t know what I was doing.”
The Argyle Secrets has a lot working against it. It has no movie stars, and the film’s writer/director, Cy Endfield, is mostly remembered for being part of the Hollywood blacklist. It was given a budget of $100K and an eight-day shooting schedule, making it cheap even by Poverty Row standards. It should, by all measures, be a forgettable mystery that filled out the bottom end of a double bill in 1948 and was never thought of again.
That’s not what we got. The Argyle Secrets is a deliriously over-the-top film noir, so ripe with ridiculous tropes and exaggerated characters that it doesn’t have time to stop and consider its own monetary restraints. It takes off at a dead sprint and keeps up the pace for 64 minutes, resulting in a viewing experience that’ll stick with you longer than a knife to the gut.
Doubles crosses galore on the film’s poster.
The premise of the film is glorious pulp nonsense. Harry Mitchell (William Gargan) is a reporter brought in to interview newspaper columnist Allen Pierce. Pierce claims to have found the mythic “Argyle Album”, which contains a list of people who were traitors and war profiteers during WWII. Before he’s able to do anything with the information, however, the columnist winds up dead. Mitchell takes a powder without alerting the hospital, and the foul play surrounding Pierce’s death (he had a heart attack and a knife buried into his stomach) make him a prime suspect for the police.
Mitchell is a real piece of work. He’s so oblivious to the fate of others that he’s willing to track down Pierce’s secretary and slug her in order to search the premises for the album. He apologizes before doing it, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the least heroic hero this side of Mike Hammer. Mitchell’s blatant seediness would be a detriment to the film were he not surrounded by a rogues’ gallery of criminals and femme fatales stranger than him.
Mitchell tries to get a scoop out of a dying breath.
Mitchell runs afoul of Marla (Marjorie Lord), a woman who seems clueless but gradually reveals herself to be the smartest of the lot. She leads him into the clutches of thugs who give him a good working over, but then proceeds to help him escape when she realizes she can cut everyone else out of the deal. This exchange might be the most infamous of the entire film, as she tells the reporter to choke her so the escape attempt looks real. Mitchell gets so caught up in the heat of the moment that he kisses her mid-choke (his narration claims not to know why). It’s a shocking and sexually frank detail for a 1948 release, decades before the “erotic thriller” became a commercially viable direction.
Endfield was no stranger to outrageous storytelling. His resume is filled with examples of high concept noir, whether it be the dreambound logic of The Limping Man (1953) or the fraught violence in The Sound of Fury (1950). He knew how to put butts in seats, and The Argyle Secrets is perhaps his finest achievement when it comes to the pure kineticism of the medium. The film is constantly moving from apartment building to hospital to airport bar, and the characters are so consumed by their need to locate the “Argyle Album” that they’re willing to block out all common sense.
The rare standoff in which Mitchell has a gun.
At one point, Mitchell is holed up in a laboratory and bluffing his way through a standoff with one of Marla’s aforementioned thugs. He posits that he can’t be harmed because he has the “Argyle Album” on him, but the thug is so carried away that he creates a Molotov cocktail to incinerate his only lead (Mitchell only survives because the other thug wants to hear him out). There’s also multiple instances where shootouts erupt and Mitchell is the only one standing, despite him not having a gun. “The Argyle Secrets” operates with all the subtlety of a Looney Toons short, and one can’t help but be swept up in the fun.
The film was adapted from a radio play that Enfield also wrote, and the closer one looks at the more confusing it gets. There’s lots of double crosses regarding the titular MacGuffin, which gets turned over to the police without so much as a glance. This contradictory handling of the “Argyle Album” falls in line with the rest of the film’s reasoning: Mitchell is willing to die for a document he never even bothers to read.
Mitchell at the mercy of a fellow Argyle obsessive.
The Argyle Secrets was screened at the recent Noir City festival in Oakland, which I had the pleasure of attending. I’d never heard of the film before, and watching it with a crowd of fellow first-timers was intoxicating. We all gawked and laughed and shrieked at the absurdity of Mitchell’s mission, and the fact that he managed to get himself out of situations he needlessly got himself into in the first place.
Film noir is about nothing if not the absurdity of the human condition, and I can think of few “deep cuts” that better communicate this idea than The Argyle Secrets. It’s low-stakes fun of the highest caliber.
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.
Visiting Western movie locations is one of my favorite things to do! Seeing these sites in person always provides interesting insight into filmmaking in general and Westerns in particular.
In past columns I’ve taken readers along on visits to Western locations such as Corriganville in Simi Valley, California; Kanab, Utah; and Lone Pine, California.
Garden of the Gods sign at Iverson Movie Ranch
This month we’ll pay a visit to the Iverson
Movie Ranch in Chatsworth, California, where most of the great movie cowboys filmed
at one point or another. Iverson was first used as a location in the
silent era; countless films and TV shows were shot there, up through the late
1960s.
One of the most famous sites at Iverson Ranch is
“Lone Ranger Rock,” named for its appearance in the opening credits of the Lone
Ranger TV series:
“Lone Ranger Rock”
The above photo was taken by me, along with most
of the photos seen in this column, in February 2022.
Here’s Lone Ranger Rock shot from further away,
in November 2016:
“Lone Ranger Rock” in 2016
Iverson Movie Ranch was originally 500 acres and
much of that is now developed, as seen below, but there are still key areas,
including the “Garden of the Gods,” which can be hiked.
Iverson Development
To this day remnants of Iverson’s filming
history can be found throughout the area.
For instance, a film crew built a
“cave” in front of this hole in some rocks; parts of the cave are
still lying on the ground (seen above).
Cave at Iverson Movie Ranch
Another manmade change was this shoring for a “stagecoach road” used in many films, including The Oklahoma Kid (1939) with James Cagney:
Man-made stagecoach road used in The Oklahoma Kid (1939)
At one point a crew bolted something to this
rock; the holes remain:
And here’s a retaining wall:
We also found a 5-in-1 blank left behind by a film crew!
Finding a tangible relic such as this is a bit
like reaching out and like touching the movie past.
John Ford’s Stagecoach (1939) was shot in the area right here!
Filming location for Stagecoach (1939)
A few years ago I took a tour of Iverson locations for the Hopalong Cassidy film Mystery Man (1944). It’s particularly fun that the film cut together a shootout filmed at Iverson with scenes shot in Lone Pine’s Alabama Hills, so the actors shooting at each other at “close range” were actually filmed hundreds of miles apart. Why that happened is a mystery in itself, but one supposes that the film crew got home from Lone Pine and realized they didn’t have enough footage, so they supplemented what they had by filming at nearby Iverson.
Rock formation from Mystery Man (1944)
While most of the films and TV shows shot at Iverson were Westerns, other filming was done there too. One of the best-known sites in the area is Nyoka Cliff, named for its appearance in the serial Perils of Nyoka (1942):
Cliff featured in Perils of Nyoka (1942)
Here’s Nyoka Cliff from
a distance, photographed in 2016:
Here’s a shot looking toward the famed Garden of the Gods. Even Buster Keaton filmed there, for Three Ages (1923).
Garden of the Gods from a distance
More views of Iverson Ranch:
The rock formations at Iverson are as unique and
distinctive as those in Lone Pine’s Alabama Hills. It’s great fun
recognizing them while watching Westerns.
I’ve been to Iverson Ranch a few times now, and
each time I take away a little more knowledge, but I’ve scarcely scratched the
surface of becoming acquainted with its history.
To learn much more about this fascinating movie location, please visit the outstanding Iverson Movie Ranch site which has hundreds of detailed location photographs. The site is an educational experience in and of itself which should be of great interest to my fellow Western fans.
…
– 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.
Silents are Golden: What Were Films Like In The Nickelodeon Era? – Part 2!
Last month, we started exploring the many genres of 1900s nickelodeon films, taking a look at travelogs, military films, the different categories of comic shorts, etc. that were offered in exhibitors’ catalogs. For part 2, let’s dive in again and see what other genres used to amuse theatergoers back then–the choices were vast!
The Impossible Voyage (1904)
Audiences in the 1900s would’ve seen a mixture of “new” films that were being churned out by the dozen every day and “old” offerings that had floated around for as much as a decade (think Georges Melies’s The Four Troublesome Heads from 1898). Some films, like Life of an American Fireman (1903) and A Trip to the Moon (1902) were famous enough to be considered our first screen classics.
Some of the older films that are still remembered today come from the “Dance” genre–specifically Serpentine Dance (1895), featuring a female dancerwearing billowy waves of silk. The eye-catching moves were pioneered by Loie Fuller, who soon had several imitators. The footage was often beautifully hand-colored. Also popular was the Butterfly Dance (1894) featuring original Gibson Girl Annabelle Moore, wearing a voluminous skirt that she held so it would flutter like butterfly wings.
One of the several versions of Serpentine Dance (1895).
Other films we’d probably recognize were
grouped under the “Mysterious” label–you could almost call it the “Georges
Melies” label. Often having magical themes, these were showcases for primitive
special effects and still have a lot of charm today. A Trip to the Moon is the most famous, of course (it was so popular
that rentals cost around $100), and you’ve likely seen a frame or two of an
astronomer encountering a giant, winking moon in An Astronomer’s Dream (1898) or Melies talking to a portrait of
himself come to life in A Mysterious
Portrait (1899).
There were also beautifully imaginative films inspired by the fairy pantomimes of the 19th century stage, which many people would’ve grown up seeing around Christmastime. The hand-colored film Flower Fairy (1905) has a simple but charming premise, as described by one 1907 catalog: “A beautiful young girl appears at her window, and at a wave of her hands the sill is adorned with the most beautiful flowers. When she is entirely surrounded by the blossoms she vanishes, leaving in her place gaily colored butterflies, which suck honey from the flowers. One small pansy begins to grow and develop to enormous proportions until, in the center, is seen the face of the lovely girl.” Similarly, the very short Amphitrite shows “A pretty girl, clad in tights is seen going through numerous graceful evolutions under water. The fish are seen swimming all around her.”
The Flower Fairy (1905).
Other “Mysterious” films are more surreal–or
downright bizarre–than magical. The surviving Dog Factory (1904) shows a factory room hung with types of sausages
labeled with different dog breeds. Oddly, the sausages are put into a machine
that turns them back into dogs for
paying customers. Fat and Lean Wrestling
Match (1901), which shows exactly what it says it does, also had some weird
twists: “After wrestling furiously for awhile, the fat man falls upon the lean
one and crushes him as flat as a pancake. The fat man then rolls him up in a
package about the size of a carpet bag and lays him on the floor, and winds up
by tossing him high in the air. The lean man in coming down falls on the fat
man’s head, knocking him to the floor and causing him to explode in a great
cloud of smoke…”
Dog Factory (1904).
Of course, plenty of nickelodeon films were much more straightforward than machines cranking out live dogs. People would’ve enjoyed footage of parades–especially special occasion parades, such as Dewey Parade (1901) “taken at the time Admiral Dewey visited Chicago,” or various army-themed films like Initiating a New Recruit (1898), which “shows a crowd of soldier boys, many of whom are holding a blanket by the edges, and tossing high in the air the victim of their sport.” Footage of battleships was also popular, especially if it showed torpedo launches or how large defense guns operated.
And there was also a genre called “Seaside” or “Bathing,” showing people frolicking in the water in popular holiday locations like Coney Island or Atlantic City. Even this category had opportunities for surreal fun–Midwinter Bathing (1905), filmed by the bay in Boston, shows “A number of sturdy men in bathing trunks… some of them having skates attached to their bare feet and others playing hand-ball. After their exercise they run along the shore, upon which the ice hummocks are piled high and plunge from the end of the ice-covered pier into the freezing waters of the bay… The film is of the very best photographic value, and the subject in every way one of the most remarkable ever made.”
Midwinter Bathing (1905), or, the best screenshot I could get.
Of all these early motion pictures, whether beautiful, magical, or just plain bizarre, some of most familiar would’ve fallen under the “Religious” label. Many of these films were a series of scenes from the life of Jesus Christ, carefully hand-tinted and running under a minute each. Acted out in a dignified manner, these scenes were similar to the Passion Plays that had been popular in Europe for centuries. An exhibitor could order a series of twenty scenes, fifteen, a dozen, or pick and choose which ones he wanted to put together. There were also brief Bible scenes available like Joseph Sold By His Brethren (1904)or the six-scene The Life of Moses (1905) – running at an efficient five minutes long!
The Life and Passion of Jesus Christ (1903).
Whenever I watch these old nickelodeon films, I often get a sense of awe, knowing each one–no matter how scratchy or how crudely made – is a little window into history. And while many films from the 1890s and 1900s don’t survive, we’re fortunate to have the ones that did make it through the decades, including milestones like The Great Train Robbery(1903). And happily, surviving trade papers and catalogs can help us get a sense of what’s been lost.
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Information on the films in this article (part 2 of 2) is from historian Darren Nemeth’s reprint of the 1907 Chicago Projecting Co’s Entertainer’s Supplies Catalog No. 22, a very rare catalog from his collection. It’s a wealth of information for anyone interested in the very early days of film and is highly recommended! IMDb.com and loc.gov were also consulted to help figure out the dates of certain films.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie’s mystery novel, was not only one of Christie’s own favorite books but also one of the world’s favorites! As a matter of fact, according to Newsweek in Sept 2021, And Then There Were None is the #5 best-selling book of all time! Granted, it appears as ‘only’ #6 on Wikipedia’s list and #7 on Business Insider’s list, but suffice to say, it is one very popular book!
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2) Silence is Golden
There is no dialog during the first five minutes of the 1945 film, until 4:58 minutes in, to be exact, when Vera Claythrone (June Duprez) says “What a quiet place.”
Eight guests quietly on their way to the island
…..
3) The judge and butler share a birthday
Barry Fitzgerald and Richard Haydn, who play Judge Francis J. Quincannon and butler Thomas Rogers respectively, were both born on March 10 — although 17 years apart with Fitzgerald being the elder. Fitzgerald and Haydn also have another classic movie connection in that they both also starred together in Miss Tatlock’s Millions (1948), directed by Haydn.
Richard Haydn and Barry Fitzgerald
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4) Mr. Gogarty, Simon Templar, a Princess and more…
Mr. Gogarty (Barry Fitzgerald) and Baby in Bringing Up Baby (1938)
June Duprez in The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
Joan Fontaine and Judith Anderson in Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940)
Richard Haydn as the Caterpillar in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland (1951)
…..
5) And they lived happily ever after?
Although based on the 1939 novel, the 1945 film adaptation was more aligned with the 1943 stage play which featured a less tragic ending.
Louis Hayward and June Duprez in a tricky moment on the beach
…..
Well, those were my five facts, but here are a few extra bonuses, for those so inclined 🙂
The book and movie are similar to, and perhaps inspired by (?), a 1930 play by Owen Davis called The 9th Guest, which was based on a 1930 novel The Invisible Host by Bruce Manning and Gwen Brislow. The 9th Guest was released on film in 1934. It’s interesting to note that the 1945 film’s ‘invisible’ host is named U.N. Owen (pronounced ‘unknown’) — and Owen is the first name of the author of the 1930 play.
The film’s cast includes a ‘future’ dame and ‘future’ sir. Judith Anderson was awarded Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 1960 and C. Aubrey Smith was appointed the CBE (Commander of the Order of the British Empire) in 1938 and was knighted by George VI in 1944.
Some say that C. Aubrey Smith was the inspiration for Tennessee Tuxedo’s Commander McBragg.
Richard Haydn, Queenie Leonard and C. Aubrey Smith also starred in Cluny Brown together. Haydn and Leonard also appeared in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland – Haydn as the Caterpillar and Leonard as the ‘bird in a tree.’
Director Rene Clair also directed and co-produced The Flame of New Orleans starring Roland Young and Micsha Auer.
AND – as part of our partnership with Best Classics Ever – you can stream And Then There Were None 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.
Monsters Meet in Universal’s Shared Cinematic Universe
What’s better than seeing your favorite movie characters in a film? Seeing them together in multiple films of course!
That’s the idea of the “shared universe” in modern filmmaking where endless Star Wars spinoffs and the Marvel Cinematic Universe fill streaming services and movie theaters with endless product.
But let’s take it back about 90 years to the Universal Monsters and an early example of the shared cinematic universe, yet another movie trend with roots in classic cinema.
While more than 40 horror movies were made by Universal from the 1930s through 1950s, we tend to think of Universal Monsters in terms of the Big 5 from the early years: Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, The Mummy, Invisible Man and Wolf Man. (That’s not to discount two other Universal franchises: The Phantom of the Opera, which first appeared as a silent in 1925, or Creature from the Black Lagoon which didn’t come along until 1954.)
House of Dracula features two of Universal’s great monsters – Frankenstein’s monster and the Wolf Man. Pictured from left are, Jane Adams, Lon Chaney Jr. as Larry Talbot/the Wolf Man, Onslow Stevens as a doctor, and Glenn Strange as Frankenstein’s monster.
Universal would continue the sequel route for years, but that wasn’t enough so the idea was expanded to bring the monsters together in what we’ll call the Universal Monsters Shared Cinematic Universe. A trio of these films, released between 1943 and 1945, are very much entwined on multiple levels.
It was quickly followed by House of Frankenstein (1944) and House of Dracula (1945), which both expanded the Universal universe with a mix-and-match group of multiple monsters, doctors, scientists and special ladies. In all three, the monsters are resurrected whether they want to be or not; scientists play God even when they know better and angry villagers attack with torches.
Dr. Niemann (Boris Karloff) finally gets close to realizing his dream of being like Victor Frankenstein in restoring the monster (Glenn Strange) in House of Frankenstein.
Familiar faces return, even if they aren’t
in familiar roles (that’s Bela Lugosi under the makeup for Frankenstein’s
monster in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man).
Actors appear multiple times in the films: all three starred Lon Chaney Jr. (billed without the “Jr.”) as the tragic Lawrence Talbot/Wolf Man; Glenn Strange made two appearances as Frankenstein’s monster; John Carradine was Dracula twice. Character actor Lionel Atwill was in all three playing different officials.
Though these films are not the best Universal offers, they do very well in carrying the look and feel of the studio’s movies. You know you’re watching a Universal film and it feels good. Credit the continuity of the atmospheric look to George Robinson, the director of photography on this trio as well as other Universal horrors like the Spanish-language Dracula (1931), Dracula’s Daughter and Son of Frankenstein (1939). Robinson’s moody use of light and darkness is fantastic especially in House of Dracula where a menacing shadow engulfs a young nurse.
An example of the magnificent use of shadows by director of photography George Robinson in House of Dracula.
The most fun for me watching these films: the dilapidated ruins of Frankenstein’s castle and the underground caverns that keep popping up with frozen or buried monsters and skeletons like a haunted house attraction.
Not so much fun: the heavy dose of pathos.
Universal was always good at showing the monsters as tragic figures and these
films ramp up the heartbreak.
This is especially true for the pitiful Larry Talbot (the Wolf Man) who is resurrected in each film when all he wants to do is stay dead so he doesn’t kill during the full moon. “Back to a life of misery and despair – I only wanted to die,” he says in House of Dracula, a lament he often repeats.
Frankenstein’s monster is used by deranged men who want to prove the genius of Dr. Frankenstein by perfecting his experiment. Even good-hearted doctors fall under the Frankenstein spell once they realize they are privy to a god-like power to create life. It’s all at the expense of the creature, who is mostly tied to a slab for experiments or fighting to save the doctor who helped him, though it never ends well for this “undying monster.”
Dracula does his thing, but there’s even a
point where he wants to become “normal.”
Here’s a condensed look at the three movies.
Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man
Two grave robbers mistakenly resurrect Larry Talbot by removing wolfbane from his coffin during a full moon. When Talbot is found unconscious and bloody in Cardiff, Dr. Frank Mannering (Patric Knowles) tries to help the despondent man. Larry knows his name but is confused over how he got there … since he knows he was dead. (See: The Wolf Man).
Larry runs away after another murderous full moon seeking help from the gypsy Maleva (the welcomed return of the wonderful Maria Ouspenskaya) who mothers him as she talks of a great man who can help – a Dr. Frankenstein. They travel for days, only to learn Frankenstein is dead. Larry is inconsolable, which isn’t helped by another full moon that transforms him once again. Chased by angry villagers, he runs into the ruins of Frankenstein’s castle and falls through the floor where he finds the monster, frozen. A desperate Larry wonders if Frankenstein’s notes may hold a key to his plight and searches for them.
In Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, Dr. Mannering (Patric Knowles), Elsa Frankenstein (Ilona Massey) and Maleva (Maria Ouspenskaya) try to help Larry Talbot.
He enlists the help of Elsa Frankenstein (Ilona Massey), granddaughter of the original doctor, and Dr. Mannering who has arrived to convince Larry to return to England. But even good doctor Mannering becomes tempted by helping the creature come alive at its full potential – even if he has to drain the energy from poor Larry. The villagers, who have had enough of the Frankenstein nonsense once again revolt, a dam is blown up and two monsters are left to battle it out leading to ….
The House of Frankenstein
You get three monsters and essentially two films for the price of one here. They are linked by mad Dr. Gustav Niemann (Boris Karloff) who lives for two things: vengeance on those he blames for his imprisonment and continuing the work of Victor Frankenstein. The movie is surprisingly full of angst and sorrow as two lost souls – one a hunchback and the other a werewolf – each fall in love with the same woman.
As the film opens, Niemann, who is obsessed with Frankenstein, is 15 years into his sentence for experimenting on corpses. He uses chalk on the stone walls of his cell to calculate Dr. Frankenstein’s formulas while promising his “neighbor,” the forlorn hunchback Daniel (J. Carrol Naish) that he can cure him.
After an earthquake makes rubble out of the prison, the two stumble upon the traveling Chamber of Horrors sideshow of Professor Lampini (Universal veteran George Zucco) who claims to have Dracula’s skeleton, complete with a stake in the heart and dirt from Transylvania. (We know it’s not a matter of if, but when, the stake will be pulled to bring Dracula back to life.)
Niemann quickly gets rid of Lampini, takes over his identity and hits the road seeking revenge and Frankenstein’s notebook.
While impersonating a traveling showman, Boris Karloff uses the skeleton of Count Dracula to his advantage in House of Frankenstein.
To help him, he awakens Dracula, who honestly isn’t much use after he falls for the first beautiful woman he sees, the granddaughter-in-law of one of the men Niemann wants to kill. Dracula kidnaps her and is chased by authorities. Instead of helping him, Niemann dumps Dracula’s coffin on the road letting the Count fend for himself against the law – and the rising sun.
It’s not even 30 minutes into the movie and
we have to say goodbye – for now – to Dracula. Time for part two.
In a small village, a lovestruck Daniel saves mistreated gypsy dancer Ilonka (Elena Verdugo, “Marcus Welby, M.D.”) and Niemann finds the ruins of Frankenstein’s castle. An icy underground cavern holds the frozen bodies of Frankenstein’s monster (Glenn Strange) and Larry (why can’t they just leave him dead?) where they fell in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. Upon thawing, a despondent Larry begs for the mercy of death which he is promised by Niemann in exchange for Frankenstein’s notebook. That’s a fair trade for Larry.
Henry Frankenstein’s all-important notebook is sought in multiple Universal movies by those hoping it holds answers to their problems.
Now with notebook in hand, Niemann returns
to his lab in Vasaria to resurrect Frankenstein’s monster. As Daniel pines for
Ilonka, he realizes she has fallen for Larry. “Why are you always so sad?” she
asks Larry, and not even the truth can sway her. In a very sad scene (“Only
death can give us peace of mind,” Larry says), the star-crossed lovers make a
tragic pact.
Just as sad: Larry and Daniel never had a
chance. As Dracula learned, Niemann will sacrifice everyone for his obsession
with Frankenstein and his creation. Emotions come to a head with the
brokenhearted Daniel blaming the monster for his plight. That’s not going to
end well.
And here come angry villagers with torches once again to chase the doctor and creature out of the castle, this time into a quicksand-filled marsh. Don’t worry, there’s another film and it’s called …
House of Dracula
Imagine this: You wake up at 5 a.m. to find a well-dressed stranger in your room. Instead of screaming, you carry on polite conversation with the man, who asks you to accompany him into your basement. Being a gentleman, you descend the cellar steps with him and find … a coffin.
The gentleman is Dr. Franz Edelmann (Onslow Stevens), the stranger is Count Dracula (Carradine again) who asks for help in seeking “a release from a curse of misery and horror.” (There is no explanation as to how Dracula is “alive,” given the state of his withered hand in House of Frankenstein, nor why he suddenly wants to be mortal.)
Edelmann doesn’t believe in vampires but is intrigued by the idea of making a new scientific discovery. Plus he’s looking for ways to help his kind, hunchbacked nurse Nina (Jane Adams) lose her bump. He has been working with tropical plants in creating a mold that looks promising and perhaps it could help Dracula as well.
Could the experiments of Dr. Edelmann (Onslow Stevens), right, provide relief for Larry Talbot’s (Lon Chaney Jr.) problem with the full moon in House of Dracula?
But why only help one creature when you can
help two? Larry Talbot also begs the doctor for help. Through brief testing
(seemingly done by Nurse Nina), Edelmann finds the key to what’s wrong with the
vampire and werewolf: Dracula’s blood has a parasite and Larry has an
overactive gland. Now he can work to save them and Nurse Nina.
Unfortunately Dracula’s darker instincts return when he sees Edelmann’s other nurse is the lovely Milizia (Martha O’Driscoll), a woman from his recent past. The idea of eternal life with the unsuspecting Milizia sets him off and, after a lovely romantic interlude where he ogles her as she plays Moonlight Sonata at the piano by candlelight, Dracula returns to his bad habits. Edelmann is on to him, but the vampire contaminates the doctor’s blood with his own turning him into a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde hybrid.
The doctor fights it off as much as he can, his better side trying to make enough of his miracle cure to help sweet Nurse Nina and sad Larry. It’s tense waiting to see the outcome.
In one of the most emotional scenes in Universal horror films, Larry walks alone into the garden. With his face a mix of hopefulness and dread, Larry faces the moon. The others anxiously look on as do we to see if enough was done to help Larry. Could he finally be cured or is he doomed? The full moon rises and we get our answer.
* * * *
I would be remiss if I didn’t at least mention a fourth film that could be added to this Universal Monsters Shared Cinematic Universe. The well-regarded and highly entertaining Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) comes with a big dose of comedy, even more familiar faces and is a must-see for Universal fans.
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.
It’s now a new year, and you know what that means: a whole
new crop of film noir features are celebrating their 75-year anniversary!
Seventy-five years ago was 1947, which is frequently noted as one of the best – if not THE best – years for film noir. And I can’t argue with that – after all, 1947 gave us what many consider to be the quintessential noir: Out of the Past. But in this month’s Noir Nook, I’m paying tribute not to those better-known noirs that were released 75 years ago, but to five underrated features from 1947 that I simply adore.
This Anthony Mann-directed feature stars Steve Brodie and Audrey Long as Steve and Anne Randall, newlyweds with a baby on the way. To earn extra cash for his growing family, Steve, a truck driver, takes a job hauling goods for boyhood pal Walt Radak (Raymond Burr). But when he learns that the load consists of stolen goods and tries to notify the police, he finds himself in a world of trouble. A gun battle breaks out, a cop is killed, Walt’s younger brother is sentenced to death for murder, and Steve and Anne go on the lam, with both the authorities and Walt hot on their heels.
Trivia tidbit: This was the only film in which Steve Brodie had top billing.
Rita Johnson & Robert Young in They Won’t Believe Me (1947)
Robert Young (in a role that’s light years away from his kindly Dr. Marcus Welby) plays a weak-willed married businessman who can’t stop his eyes or hands from straying away from his wife (Rita Johnson) – first with Jane Greer and then with Susan Hayward. Unfortunately, once he finally makes up his mind to leave his wife to marry Hayward, a fiery car accident leads to his arrest for the murder of his wife. The story starts with Young on the witness stand at his trial, unfolds in a series of flashbacks, and ends with an absolutely perfect noirish twist.
Trivia tidbit: Jane Greer was pictured modeling a WAC uniform in Life magazine on June 8, 1942. The photo caught the attention of studio head of Howard Hughes, which led to the start of her career in Hollywood.
Lawrence Tierney & Ted North in The Devil Thumbs a Ride (1947)
The devil in this film is Steve Morgan (Lawrence Tierney) who, in the first scene, robs and kills the night manager of a bank. Hitchhiking his way out of town, he’s picked up by Jimmy Ferguson (Ted North), a tipsy traveling salesman on his way home from a convention. On the road, Steve convinces Jimmy to pick two more passengers – Carol (Nan Leslie) and Agnes (Betty Lawford), and the quartet winds up at a beach house that belongs to a friend of Jimmy’s, where Steve flattens the car tires and disables the phone – and then he really turns up the mayhem.
Trivia tidbit: The interior of the beach house was also used as Susan Hayward’s apartment in They Won’t Believe Me.
Lawrence Tierney & Claire Trevor in Born to Kill (1947)
It’s Lawrence Tierney once again playing a psychopathic killer, this time the aptly named Sam Wild. Here, after finding his girlfriend (Isabel Jewell) out with another man, he kills them both, then flees to San Francisco. Along with way, he meets Helen Trent (Claire Trevor), who’s also Frisco-bound, and who just happened to have found the two bodies left behind by Sam. Despite Helen’s increasing awareness of Sam’s homicidal tendencies, she can’t deny her perverse attraction to him – even after he marries Helen’s own sister.
One of my all-time favorite noirs, this feature stars Ann Sheridan in the title role of a nightclub singer who becomes involved with family man Dr. Richard Talbot (Kent Smith). When Nora gets fed up with being Talbot’s chick on the side and threatens to end their affair, he fakes his own death so he can be with Nora. Three guesses as to whether this relationship ends happily – and the first two don’t count.
Trivia tidbit: Nora Prentiss received widely varying reviews upon its release; the notoriously acerbic Bosley Crowther dismissed the movie in the New York Times as “major picture-making at its worst,” while William Weaver praised it in Motion Picture Herald, calling it a “feat of melodramatic story-telling which achieves also the result of maintaining suspense of unique intensity down to the final sequence.” Makes you wonder what movie one of these fellas was looking at!
What are some of your favorite films noirs from 75 years ago? Leave a comment and let me know!
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– 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:
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