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.
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– 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.
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:
Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant starred in four movies together, two of which, Bringing Up Baby (1938) and The Philadelphia Story (1940), are now widely celebrated classics, but their first pairing went so badly at the box office that it’s somewhat surprising they got to make the rest at all. Sylvia Scarlett (1935) brought the stars together with director George Cukor for a gender-bending, Shakespearean dramedy that absolutely bombed at the box office and threatened to tank Hepburn’s career, but it’s well worth revisiting in spite of its dismal debut. Personally, I adore this unusual outing for the pair, partly for its Forest of Arden sensibilities but mostly for its depiction of a gloriously gender queer Hepburn heating up the ardor of both male and female characters. If you enjoy films like Queen Christina (1933), Victor Victoria (1982), and Orlando (1992), Sylvia Scarlett is essential viewing, and for Hepburn fans it offers a uniquely provocative vision of the iconic star.
Katharine Hepburn looks fantastic and very modern as Sylvester. It’s easy to see why both male and female characters are attracted.
Hepburn plays the title character, originally named Sylvia Snow but in disguise through much of the movie as Sylvester Scarlett thanks to the criminal shenanigans of father Henry (Edmund Gwenn). Henry’s crimes in France cause the pair to flee to his native England while Sylvia is still mourning the death of her French mother; she adopts the masculine persona to throw off the authorities and then retains it as Henry continues to get them into various kinds of trouble. In London the two form a partnership with con artist and crook Jimmy Monkley (Cary Grant) and his associate Maudie (Dennie Moore), but when they fail as thieves they pivot to being traveling entertainers. Henry falls for the faithless Maudie, who also has an eye for “Sylvester,” and Sylvia begins to regret her disguise when she meets the handsome, narcissistic artist Michael Fane (Brian Aherne).
Sylvester and Henry (Edmund Gwenn) fall in with Cockney conman Jimmy (Grant) during the voyage to England, but he proves to be a slippery, unpredictable friend.
Literary types will quickly recognize the beats of
Shakespeare’s As You Like It and Twelfth Night in the narrative,
which was adapted from a 1918 novel by Compton Mackenzie, who also wrote Whisky
Galore and The Monarch of the Glen. Sylvia/Sylvester navigates many
of the standard complications of the “breeches part” while savoring the social
and physical freedoms that come with masculine identity. She inspires other
women’s sexual interest in her male guise but pines for the attention of a man
who thinks her a boy. The plot charts comic highs and tragic lows for the
characters, a choice that keeps to Elizabethan models but might have frustrated
viewers expecting lighter romantic comedy. It also jumps from moment to moment
fairly abruptly, causing some scholars to describe it as a picaresque
narrative, which depicts a likable rogue’s adventures on the road as opposed to
a clearly structured, coherent plot (think of Don Quixote, Tom Jones,
and Barry Lyndon as literary examples that also have significant
cinematic adaptations). As Sylvester, Sylvia plays a charming scamp of the
picaresque variety, but Grant’s Jimmy Monkley fully embodies the type. Sylvia’s
father Henry is a foolish Falstaff, little more than inebriated id and
ineptitude.
As Sylvester, Hepburn attracts the attention of amorous maid, Maudie (Dennie Moore), which creates some humorous scenes as Sylvester tries to dodge Maudie’s advances while maintaining his masculine persona.
The bones of the story might be very old school, but Sylvia Scarlett strikes out into daring, modern territory with the way Hepburn plays the gender-bending protagonist. It’s best to ignore the opening scene, in which we see Hepburn dressed in very silly braids and pining melodramatically for pauvre maman; it’s a bad, tacked on start that doesn’t add anything to the picture. The fun begins with the passage to England, as Henry and “Sylvester” try to keep a low profile and avoid official scrutiny. Hepburn sports a very short haircut and the strikingly modern look of a boy band heartthrob, which gives her license to behave very differently from the mournful Sylvia. Throughout the film we see her male guise liberate both Hepburn and her character; she jumps through windows, hops over fences, and scampers about unfettered by skirts or social convention. Hepburn’s easy athleticism shines in these moments, which makes it frustrating when feminine attire sinks Sylvia back into girlish tears. Sylvester is feisty, self-assured, and quite good at talking his way into and out of trouble; some of the dialogue presages Hepburn’s gangster persona in the jail scenes of Bringing Up Baby (1938). Most of Sylvester’s trouble, however, is romantic in nature, as Maudie tries to seduce him and Michael seems fascinated by the “queer feeling” Sylvester gives him until Sylvia is revealed. Jimmy causes a fright by proposing that he and Sylvester share a bed to keep warm, with the expectation that Sylvester is a “proper little hot water bottle.” These scenes prompt panic for the protagonist that is meant to be funny, but I prefer the jauntier moments of Sylvester’s adventures, when he’s conning a crowd of gullible Londoners or challenging the hecklers during a performance. Confidence and pants both look very good on Hepburn, even though audiences found the idea of a cross-gendered Kate too uncomfortable to appreciate. Perhaps they tolerated it and even enjoyed it in foreign stars like Garbo and Dietrich, but for the American Hepburn it was a bridge too far.
While Sylvia Scarlett bombed at the box office, it brought Hepburn and Grant together for the first time and gave each an unusual role to play.
While Sylvia Scarlett damaged Hepburn, it helped Grant’s rising star considerably, but both would enjoy success with their final onscreen pairing in The Philadelphia Story (1940). Hepburn ended her long career with a whopping dozen Oscar nominations and four wins, cementing her legacy as one of Hollywood’s greatest stars, but it’s fascinating to revisit the less familiar films of her early years. For further exploration of her “box office poison” phase, track down Mary of Scotland (1936), A Woman Rebels (1936), and Quality Street (1937). Bringing Up Baby also flopped on its original release, which just goes to show that you should never judge a movie by its box office!
Lola Lane was borne Dorothy H. Mulligan on May 21, 1906, in Macy, Indiana, to Lorenzo and Cora Mulligan. Her father worked as a dentist in addition to renting out parts of their 22-room home to Simpson College students. Her mother was a former reporter with dreams of becoming an actress, but her Methodist parents prevented her from pursuing a career in entertainment. Dorothy was one of five siblings, including Leotabel, Martha, Rosemary, and Priscilla.
Over the years, Dorothy grew up in Indianola, Iowa, where
she accompanied silent films on the piano and sang in a flower shop. In fact,
all of the Mulligan girls were fond of music. A rebellious child, she once
shocked townspeople with a Charleston dance in front of a church that was
concluding its Sunday service for the day. Her vocal talents were later discovered
by Gus Edwards and she soon gained professional experience thereafter, including
education at Simpson College’s conservatory.
It was Edwards who would change her name to Lola Lane and incorporate her in his touring production of Ritz Carlton Nights. By 1926, she and Leotabal—now Leota—worked in the Greenwich Village Follies. Leota was the first sister to leave home for New York, in pursuit of a career in entertainment. Dorothy soon followed and the sisters toured vaudeville circuits, later working on Broadway in The War Song. The Broadway show led to a screen test and Lane made her film debut in Speakeasy(1929).
On-screen, Lane adopted a tough persona in films like Convicted Woman (1940), Gangs of Chicago (1940), and Miss V from Moscow (1942). Her final three films were an attempt to move on from typecasting, which included roles in Why Girls Leave Home (1945), Deadline at Dawn(1946), and They Made Me a Killer(1946). Lane retired from acting in 1946.
Lola Lane, Priscilla Lane, Rosemary Lane, and Gale Page in Four Daughters (1938)
Interestingly, Lane’s name served to inspire another
on-screen character. The comic book writer Jerry Siegel named Lois
Lane—Superman’s girlfriend—after Lane.
In 1961, Lane converted to Catholicism, later receiving a Pope Pius medal for her dedication to the religious training of mentally challenged individuals.
Lane passed away on June 22, 1981, due to arterial disease and was buried at Calvary Cemetery in Santa Barbara, California. She was 75 years old.
Today, there are some locations of relevance to Lane’s
personal life.
In 1910, the Mulligan family lived at 307 N. B St. in
Washington, Iowa, which has since been razed.
By 1920, they moved to 405 W. Ashland Ave., Indianola, Iowa.
The home stands to this day.
405 W. Ashland Ave., Indianola, Iowa
Simspon College remains at 701 N. C St., Indianola, Iowa.
Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa
In 1929, Lane lived at 6626 Franklin Ave., Los Angeles,
California. The home has been subdivided into apartments.
6626 Franklin Ave., Los Angeles, California
Lane and her sisters are well remembered through their filmography, either working together or apart.
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.
No actor better represents American decency than James Stewart. In both his military and movie career, Stewart was the everyman, the humble hero who managed to get the job done through sheer force of will. He was someone you innately rooted for, and his most iconic roles emphasize this special connection.
That said, likability only goes so far. Stewart would not have been one of the greatest actors of all time were it not also for his staggering range and surprising adaptability. In a career that spanned seven decades, Stewart excelled in every genre imaginable. He was a convincing cowboy, a charming love interest, and in the case of Call Northside 777 (1948), a crusading reporter with a hot lead.
The film’s crusading poster.
Call Northside 777 is unique in that it’s one of the few documentary-style films noir to feature a star-studded cast. The common practice, at least as far as 20th Century Fox was concerned, was to make tough crime films based on true stories, starring reliable B-players like Dennis O’Keefe and Mark Stevens. They were cheap, profitable, and grounded by their refreshing lack of glamor. The less recognizable the face, the more believable the faux “documentary” angle.
Stewart’s casting may have violated the practice, but it also arrived at a crucial point in his career. While he’d scored an Oscar nomination for It’s a Wonderful Life two years earlier, the actor was at a professional crossroads, and fearful that his postwar output had paled in comparison to his earlier work. The fact that both It’s a Wonderful Life and Rope (his first Hitchcock collaboration) flopped at the box office didn’t help matters. He was trying to find parts that suited his older, less naïve presence, and Chicago newsman PJ MacNeal was perfect.
“They make the wrong picture.”
MacNeal is a Windy City veteran who gets assigned to the case of convicted murderer Frank Wiecek (Richard Conte). The latter’s mother has placed a $5,000 ad in the newspaper, urging people to come forward to clear her son’s name, and the novelty of the ad leads MacNeal down a rabbit hole of reconsidered evidence and fresh leads. He discovers that Wiecek’s innocence may be more than a pipe dream, and sets about trying to make a case in his favor.
There’s nothing particularly fancy about Call Northside 777. It’s economically directed by Henry Hathaway, who pioneered the documentary-style noir with The House on 92nd Street, and it sheds light on a real-life case that was begging to be dramatized. What really makes the film stand out, however, is the conviction of the acting.
Stewart and Cobb in a promotional still.
Lee J. Cobb and Helen Walker are terrific as MacNeal’s editor and wife, respectively. The former is fun as a pipe-smoking cynic who clashes with the reporter’s burgeoning righteousness. He wants Weicek cleared, sure, but he wants to sell papers a little bit more. Smaller, potentially forgettable roles are salvaged by colorful bit players like Charles Lane, E.G. Marshall, and John McIntire.
Richard Conte is perfectly cast as Weicek, a man who’s quietly rotting away for someone else’s crime. The actor taps into the pained humility that a decade in prison would instill, but there’s still an underlying bite to his words. One gets the sense that he could be guilty, even though he’s not. Conte’s career skyrocketed following the release of the film, and he would go on to perfect his coiled machismo in classics like Thieves’ Highway (1949) and The Big Combo (1955).
Richard Conte shines in a downbeat role.
Then there’s Stewart, who gives one of his most underrated performances as MacNeal. The aforementioned everyman quality is present, but he’s careful to underscore it with an obsessive streak that borders on manic at times. The Wiecek case grows increasingly more important as the film wears on, and Stewart manages to communicate so much through minimal body language. MacNeal is a character of action rather than reflection, and most of his scenes consist of him rifling through photographs or interviewing old witnesses.
A lesser star would have gone the showier route, and tried to dominate their scene partners, but he’s selective about his “big” acting moments, preferring to cede the floor to others. It works like a charm. Few actors are as compelling as Stewart when it comes to watching them think. It also gives him the chance to recontextualize his screen persona as he turned 40. MacNeal is a bit more skeptical than his past characters, and it’s precisely because of this weathered quality that his path to crusader feels so earned. He’s the same American hero we know and love; he just wants to be sure of a cause before he backs it.
Stewart added shades of complexity to his screen persona.
Stewart regained his confidence (and his box office clout) soon after the release of the film, and would go on to have arguably the best run of his career in the 1950s. That said, it’s tough to imagine the dense, ambiguous performances he gives in Broken Arrow and Vertigo were it not for his foundational work here.
I won’t bore you with a rundown of the various beats that MacNeal has to navigate, for experiencing them firsthand is one of the film’s distinct pleasures. There are no great twists or profound revelations about humanity to be found here; just good storytelling and great execution. Sometimes, that’s all we need. Dial up Northside 777 if this sounds like the noir for you.
TRIVIA: Thelma Ritter was cast as a police secretary, but most of her scenes were cut from the final release. As a result, her lone interaction with Stewart went uncredited.
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.
A few years ago I shared photographs of the final resting places of several Western stars who served in our armed forces.
Over the last few years
I’ve been honored to pay my respects at the gravesites of numerous Western
stars in multiple states, so I thought I’d return to that topic this month and
share some additional photographs.
I’ll begin with the biggest Western star of all, John Wayne. For many years after his 1979 passing his gravesite was unmarked, presumably for security reasons. Today his grave at Pacific View Memorial Park in Corona del Mar, California, has what I consider the loveliest marker of all. It’s exquisite.
John Wayne
There’s a beautiful view
of the Pacific Ocean from the gravesite, marked in the photo below by the
yellow flowers. Wayne, who lived in nearby Newport Beach, was so revered
locally that Orange County Airport was renamed in his honor after his passing.
Pacific View Memorial Park
I’ve written here in the past of my admiration for Wayne’s film Angel and the Badman (1947), which he produced and starred in with Gail Russell. A decade later, producer Wayne again hired Russell for a leading role, in the Budd Boetticher-Randolph Scott classic 7 Men From Now (1956). She’s buried at Valhalla Cemetery in North Hollywood.
Gail Russell
Moseley, the last name seen on Russell’s grave marker, was the real last name of Guy Madison, to whom Russell was married from 1949 to 1954. Madison, who starred in many Western films, is at Forest Lawn Cathedral City, near Palm Springs. His marker references both his birth and acting names, along with noting his TV Western role as Wild Bill Hickok.
Guy Madison
John Wayne’s costar in another film I’ve written about here, Tall in the Saddle (1944), was Ella Raines. She’s buried at Glen Haven Memorial Park, found at the end of a long, winding road in Sylmar, California. The trees on the marker are perhaps a reflection of her outdoorsy childhood in Washington. Raines’ filmography also included the “modern Western” The Walking Hills (1949) with Randolph Scott, Singing Guns (1950) with Vaughn Monroe, and Ride the Man Down (1952) with Rod Cameron and Forrest Tucker.
Ella Raines
Jeffrey Hunter, Wayne’s costar in the John Ford classic The Searchers (1956), is also buried at Glen Haven. Both his birth name and his acting name are on the marker. Hunter died tragically young, in 1969; over two decades later his wife, General Hospital star Emily McLaughlin, was buried next to him.
Jeffrey Hunter
Cathy Downs played the title role in another John Ford classic, My Darling Clementine (1946). She’s buried at Woodlawn Cemetery in Santa Monica. Downs also starred with Rod Cameron in Panhandle (1948), which I wrote about here in my very first Hidden Gems column, and with Guy Madison in Massacre River (1949).
Cathy Downs
George Bancroft, who played Marshal Curley Wilcox in Ford and Wayne’s Stagecoach (1939), is also at Woodlawn Cemetery, in the mausoleum.
George Bancroft
One of my favorite Western stars is Bill Elliott. I loved seeing that his movie nickname “Wild Bill” made it onto the marker at his final resting place in a mausoleum at the Palm Downtown Cemetery in North Las Vegas, Nevada.
Wild Bill Elliot
Another favorite “B” Western star is William “Hopalong Cassidy” Boyd, who is interred at Forest Lawn Glendale. The mausoleum there is not easily accessible to the general public so I was fortunate to visit. Hopalong Cassidy is noted alongside Boyd’s name, while next to his wife Grace Bradley Boyd’s name it reads “Mrs. Hoppy.”
William Boyd
Andy Clyde, who played California Carlson in some of the Hopalong Cassidy films, is buried outdoors at Forest Lawn Glendale. He’s next to his son, who tragically died young. His brother David Clyde, a bit player, and David’s wife, actress Fay Holden of the Andy Hardy movies, are also nearby.
Andy Clyde
Dan Duryea was only 61 when he passed on in 1968. He’s at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills next to his wife, who had died the previous year. Duryea’s many Westerns included the classic Winchester ’73 (1950) and one of my favorite Audie Murphy Westerns, Ride Clear of Diablo (1954). He also appeared with Audie Murphy in Night Passage (1957) and Six Black Horses (1962).
Dan Duryea
Talented actress Wanda Hendrix was briefly married to Audie Murphy, but his suffering with post-traumatic stress disorder helped lead to their divorce after just a year. Hendrix and Murphy co-starred in the Western Sierra (1950). Wanda Hendrix also appeared with Joel McCrea in Saddle Tramp (1950), which I wrote about in my very first Western RoundUp column. Like Dan Duryea, she’s at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.
Wanda Hendrix
Actress Susan Cabot costarred with Audie Murphy and Dan Duryea in Ride Clear of Diablo; she also appeared in two other favorite Murphy films, The Duel at Silver Creek (1952) and Gunsmoke (1953). She’s at Hillside Memorial Park in Culver City, California.
One of Winters’ costars in Untamed Frontier was the tragic Suzan Ball, who died of cancer at 21. She also appeared in the Westerns War Arrow (1953) and Chief Crazy Horse (1955). She was survived by her husband, actor Richard Long. She’s at Forest Lawn Glendale.
Suzan Ball
I’ll conclude with the impressive marker for Gene Autry at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills. He was both a Western star and the founder of the Autry Museum of the American West, which I wrote about here in January 2019. As alluded to on the gravestone, Autry was also a World War II veteran, a TV and radio star, the one-time owner of Los Angeles TV station KTLA, and the owner of the California Angels baseball team. What a life!
Gene Autry
I have many more such
photos and may return to this topic again in the future. One of the interesting
things illustrated above is the way the lives, careers, and even the final
resting places of Hollywood actors interconnect.
I always feel a great sense of history visiting these cemeteries, and I also appreciate the opportunity to reflect on the joy each filmmaker has brought to my life, along with the lives of countless others.
…
– 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?
We’re all at least somewhat familiar with nickelodeons, the tiny 1900s-era theaters where patrons paid a nickel each to watch some films. And we all know that these quaint little storefronts evolved into the familiar neighborhood theaters and big city “movie palaces.” But not everyone knows exactly what nickelodeon-era motion pictures were like, at least beyond the usual Méliès films, clips of ladies dancing, and famous early works like The Great Train Robbery(1903).
A typical neighborhood nickelodeon.
Many nickelodeon films had originally played
in traveling picture shows, the humble ancestor of the “movie house” era.
Traveling from town to town armed with films, slides, and projectors,
neatly-dressed entertainers would set up shop in a school, church, or even a
tent and sell tickets for an evening’s worth of entertainment. Many of the
films they showed would also end up in nickelodeons, mixed in with the newer
films that were being churned out like crazy to meet the public demand.
So if you could travel over a century back in
time and pop into the nearest nickelodeon, what films were you likely to see?
The subjects were as endless back then as they are on YouTube today–everything
from travelogs to comedies to military films to, yes, films of funny animals.
Heroic animals too, as in Rescued by Rover (1905).
The majority of 1900s films have disappeared, but fortunately, some catalogs of rental films survive. These include descriptions of the films and their lengths–that is, the lengths of the physical strips of films themselves. (Being an era of rampant copyright infringement, dates were seldom included.) A minute’s worth of film was about 100 feet long, and a standard reel of film was 1000 feet or about ten minutes. Many films at the time were under 500 feet long or even less than 100. So for every 10-minute single-reel production, you could find a few dozen little films like the popular The Whole Dam Family and the Dam Dog (1905), which was 300 feet, or The Four Troublesome Heads (1898), which ran about 75 feet.
The Four Troublesome Heads (1904)
The largest group of films fell under the “comic” label. Many of the titles are pretty self-explanatory: How Mike Got the Soap in His Eyes (1903), Firing the Cook (1903), Lady Plumpton’s Motor Car (1904), The Bull and the Picnickers (1902). A number of very short films simply illustrated old jokes, like How Bridget Served the Salad Undressed (1898), a 28-foot film showing how a maid “mistakes the order and brings in the salad in a state of dishabille hardly allowable in polite society.” There were even riffs on well-known films, like Something Good–Negro Kiss (1898), described as a “burlesque on the John Rice and May Irwin Kiss” (this film was rediscovered only a couple of years ago).
Something Good–Negro Kiss (1898)
Popular comic situations included clashes between maids and cooks, run-ins with tramps, dignified ladies and gentlemen in undignified situations, romantic rivalries, and sometimes ladies getting back at annoying suitors. One popular film was The Insurance Collector (1903), showing the titular character attempting to woo a woman’s pretty daughter, who “rejects the collector’s advance and shoves him into the [wash] tub, where he flounders while the two women douse him with water.” Another very popular comic genre revolved around the “bad boy” or “Mischievous Willie” character, already familiar from comic strips. These mischievous boys were always playing rather violent pranks on their elders. In Tommy’s Trick on Grandpa (1900), “Tommy has filled his grandpa’s big Dutch pipe with powder, and the old gentleman sits down to the enjoy his evening smoke. A terrific explosion occurs.” Similarly, A Ringer Joke on His Pa (date unknown) involved the “Bad Boy” tying a cord to his napping father’s chair and attaching the other end to a clothes wringer. When the mother starts wringing out the laundry the dad’s chair tips over. Doubtless, these simple films were geared towards the delighted kids in the audience.
Kids at the movie theater (circa 1923).
Many other comic films were unapologetically
surreal, like A Jersey Skeeter (1900)
which showed a giant mosquito trying to bite a farmer, “and after sharpening
its bill on his grindstone, seizes the farmer by the seat of his trousers and
carries him away.” Others, like Michael
Casey and the Steam Roller (1902), make
you wonder what kind of primitive effects were involved: “The engineer does not
see him, and the great machine weighing several tons passes over his body,
flattening it out like a piece of sole leather. Other workmen rush to the
rescue and discover Casey in his flattened condition, and about twice his
normal length…One of the workmen procures a barrel, and standing upon it he
pounds Casey upon the head with a great mallet until he has driven him down to
his proper height and circumference.”
Non-comic genres were common too, of course, especially travel films with such varying locations as Panorama of “Miles Canyon” (1903), Fijian Fire Walk or Fire Dance (date unknown), Niagara Falls in Winter (date unknown), or From Monte Carlo to Monaco (1902). Even mundane scenes were interesting since they showed bits of life in exotic locations, such as Street Cleaning in Porto Rico (date unknown) or A Ferry in the Far East (1904), which showed how “unlike other ferries, the Eastern people hung an immense raft on cables across the stream and the raft is pulled across.”
From Monte Carlo to Monaco (1902)
Shots of naval ships and military drills were also standard fare at nickelodeons, as were recreations of various battles. These recreations sound pretty modest today, although they were thrilling at the time. The popular Advance of Kansas Volunteers, Caloocan (1899) showed U.S. troops in the midst of a battle: “This is one of the best battle pictures ever made. The first firing is done directly toward the front of the picture, and the advance of U.S. troops apparently through the screen is very exciting; the gradual disappearance of the fighters sustaining the interest to the end.” Advance was a mere 60 feet long!
Advance of Kansas Volunteers, Caloocan (1899)
There were several other popular genres in the
nickelodeon era, of course, including the religious genre and one intriguingly
called “mysterious.” I’ll be covering them more in next month’s post–stay
tuned!
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Information on the films in this article 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 the films. Some films may have been released under different names, making it difficult to determine the year.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
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