Classic Movie Hub Blog

Monsters and Matinees: Sun Block can’t Help The Hideous Sun Demon

Posted on April 13, 2024 by Toni Ruberto

Sun Block can’t Help The Hideous Sun Demon

The Hideous Sun Demon is a fantastic film title.

It screams Beware! Danger! Turn back!

I’m hideous and I’m a demon!

It’s such a robust title, that it deserves an exclamation point in the hallowed tradition of Them! Dinosaurus! Scooby Doo: Where Are You! The Hideous Sun Demon!

How great is it? An Australian band took the title as its name without seeing the movie.

And let’s give the 1958 sci-fi B-movie props for being way ahead of its time as a cautionary tale about the dangers of too much sun. (Always wear your sunscreen.)

Sadly, we must admit, The Hideous Sun Demon doesn’t hold up to the promise of its title and that’s clear from the first minute.

An accident with radioactive isotopes makes the sun deadly to a scientist played by Robert Clarke in *The Hideous Sun Demon.* Clarke also wrote, directed and produced the film.

The film opens in mid-sentence, so to speak, with action already in play and without a set-up or introduction to the characters. An alarm is going off at Atomic Research Inc. as a person is wheeled out on a stretcher into an ambulance.

Who? Why? We don’t know.

Then a dramatic blast of music and a square image colored in dark shades with a big white circle in the middle appears. The credits roll, proclaiming The Hideous Sun Demon.

The names of the cast and crew follow, but they sit stationary for a few seconds on that same, unmoving square until another set of names appear … on that same unmoving square, and so it goes.

The high-tech opening credits feature the same backdrop.

Though the sound is effective with that blaring music augmented by an ambulance siren, that darn square with the white circle is a clear indication of the (lack of) quality of what’s to come.

Don’t judge yourself harshly if this no-budget opening credit sequence is where you think that our much-anticipated Hideous Sun Demon is going to be a guy in a mask wearing gloves that imitate animal hands. You are right, but if you’re like me, you accept it as a necessary element in low-budget B-movies.

The plot? It’s thin. A voiceover tells us that no sooner had “satellites numbers 1 and 3” gone into space than the world is worrying about the dangers of radiation from the sun. (That’s all the background we get.)

Poor Dr. Gilbert “Gil” McKenna (played by Robert Clarke, who also directed, wrote and produced the film) is proof of why people should be worried. He’s the guy on the stretcher, a researcher who is the first victim of this danger from radioactive isotopes which are often blamed for bad things in 1950s sci-fi films.

In this fun shot, the sun that is superimposed over the face of Dr. Gil McKenna (played by Robert Clarke), will transform him into the title creature in *The Hideous Sun Demon*.

He was exposed to radiation for nearly 6 minutes and should be dead, but he’s not and that puzzles the doctors. In fact, he appears better than OK, looking handsome right down to the curls that slightly hang over his forehead where they stay for much of the film. Kept in the hospital for observation, he’s allowed time in the solarium, which is an elegant way of saying he sits on the roof in the sun with old people. (No, really, he sits on the roof with old people.)

It only takes a few minutes before he looks uncomfortable and sweats so profusely that he opens his robe and bares his chest as the sun beats down. The elderly lady sitting next to him screams “Oh your face!” and he runs off. Then more screaming! What’s wrong?

The explanation comes in one of those obligatory mumbo-jumbo scenes that I love where the scientists try to explain what’s going on. In the case of poor Gil, the sun exposure has caused him to regress – or evolve backwards – to the form humans were in prehistoric times. He has become scaly and lizard-like – half-man, half-lizard. A return to a dark room out of the sun brings him back to his normal attractive exterior, but each exposure to the sun will cause this “sun sensitivity” to occur faster and last longer.

A tough guy makes the mistake of forcing Dr. Gil McKenna (Robert Clarke) into the sun which turns him into *The Hideous Sun Demon*.

Now Dr. Gil isn’t left to deal with this alone. He has support from his colleagues including lab assistant Ann (Patricia Manning), a plain but pretty woman who is clearly in (unrequited) love with him. Compassionate scientist Dr. Buckell (Patrick Whyte) cares, too, but warns Ann about Gil’s hard drinking which he believes led to the radioactive incident.

“Whiskey and soda mix, not whiskey and science,” Dr. Buckell says.

Yes, booze is a problem for Gil who has a wild side that also includes women and fast cars. Plus he’s impatient and selfish. As his friends search for help from other scientists, all Gil must do is stay inside at least during the day. But no. He leaves at night, driving for hours in his small sports convertible with the top down, pushing the limits and playing games with the sun. But it’s hard to judge him when his inner anguish comes out as he stands on cliff ready to commit suicide. (The sounds of laughing children stop him. Sad.)

Despite advice to stay inside and out of the sun’s rays, Dr. Gil McKenna (Robert Clarke) can’t avoid the temptation of drink and women in *The Hideous Sun Demon*.

He meets sexy young Trudy (Nan Peterson) at a bar where she sings and plays piano. They make goo-goo eyes at each other, have a drink and make more goo-goo eyes. Her gangster-like boyfriend shows up and, of course, they’ll fight over her (not for the last time either).

Gil and Trudy head to the beach where the sun peeks out from behind the clouds as they frolic on the sand, enjoy some hanky-panky and fall asleep until the sun rises. Gil, ever the gentleman, runs off in his convertible – still with the top down – as the sun bares down on him.

A little girl and her doll try to help a desperate Dr. Gil McKenna (Robert Clarke) not realizing he’s the monster everyone is searching for in *The Hideous Sun Demon*.

He’s in beast form by the time he arrives home, and things spiral out of control. The police go on a beast hunt, people lock themselves inside and his smart friends still try to help. On the run, Gil hides out in a shed on a large oil field where a child playing with her doll befriends him and offers to get him cookies. Mom will want to know who those cookies are for.

In a well-done and taut ending sequence, a chase sequence through the oil fields and up those large, circular natural gas tanks goes to dizzying heights. We can see the actors climbing the ladders and going higher and higher with the ground clear below. Clarke reportedly did his own stunts and it pays off as we watch Gil/the Hideous Sun Demon sadly racing closer to the sun.

The final sequence in *The Hideous Sun Demon* takes place from the dizzying heights of natural gas tank. That’s actor Robert Clarke doing his own stunts.

Making a monster movie

There are reasons to respect Hideous Sun Demon even though it wears its low budget on its monster mask and doesn’t live up to the awesome title.

Before this film, Robert Clarke had a long journeyman’s acting career with roles in such movies as Enchanted Cottage (1945) and My Man Godfrey (1957), plus a long resume of TV work on Perry Mason, Murder, She Wrote, General Hospital, 77 Sunset Strip and Dynasty. He is best known for his work in genre films like The Man From Planet X (1951), The Incredible Petrified World (1957) and Beyond the Time Barrier (1960). It was the success of the 1957 film The Astonishing She-Monster that led Clarke to direct his own low-budget film, hence The Hideous Sun Demon.

Outside of acting, Clarke was a first-time everything on The Hideous Sun Demon and it was a big undertaking. By the end, he would be among three directors and four writers who put the film together. It was shot over 12 consecutive weekends using a crew of film students from the University of Southern California. Friends and relatives filled the cast. The original budget of $10,000 “ballooned” up to $50,000 but they kept things tight. The cast did their own hair, makeup and wardrobe. Only $500 was spent on the suit created by Richard Cassarino out of a wet suit.

Clark’s original idea was inspired by Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and was different from his finished film. It was set in Guatemala where a scientist experiments with radiation on his son, who transforms into a reptile-like creature with sun exposure. The original title was “Saurus” or “Sauros” which means reptile in Latin and is a better description for the film, but not as cool of a title as The Hideous Sun Demon.

Nan Peterson made her film debut in *The Hideous Sun Demon* with Robert Clarke.

Notes

A film debut: It was the first film for Nan Peterson, who stars as singer Trudy in the film. Originally cast in the role was Clarke’s sister-in-law Marilyn King of the popular vocal group The King Sisters. She had to drop out of the role but wrote the song “Strange Pursuit” that is performed in the movie. There is even mention in the film on the radio of The King Sisters.

Film legacy: Robert Clarke gave his permission for the 1989 comedy What’s Up, Hideous Sun Demon that was redubbed with the voices of Jay Leno and Cam Clarke who reprised his father’s role. The unauthorized 1965 short film Wrath of the Sun Demon was a two-minute short produced by Donald F. Glut and starring Bob Burns, an archivist who owns the original mask.

– Toni Ruberto for Classic Movie Hub

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

Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a writer and board 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.

Posted in Horror, Monsters and Matinees, Posts by Toni Ruberto | Tagged Hideous Sun Demon, Marilyn King, Nan Peterson, Patricia Manning, Patrick Whyte, Robert Clarke, The King Sisters | Leave a comment

Silver Screen Standards: The Ghost Goes West (1935)

Posted on April 11, 2024 by Jennifer Garlen

Silver Screen Standards: The Ghost Goes West (1935)

Supernatural romance and comedy are unique but often overlapping subgenres with some truly outstanding movies among their ranks, from Topper (1937), Blithe Spirit (1945), and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947) to the more recent blockbuster, Ghost (1990). I love a good ghost story, whether it’s spooky or silly, so of course I find The Ghost Goes West (1935) thoroughly delightful. It’s a fairly modest British production from producer Alexander Korda and French director René Clair, but its tremendous charm and engaging cast help explain why this ghostly romantic comedy was such a huge hit with British audiences in 1935. Aside from its supernatural elements, The Ghost Goes West also offers some sharp and very funny commentary about the way Americans – especially wealthy ones – view and consume other cultures; most viewers, however, will come for the engaging fairy tale romance as enacted by Robert Donat and Jean Parker.

Ghost Goes Robert Donat Dual Role — Robert Donat plays the dual roles of Scottish ghost Murdoch Glourie and his identical descendant, Donald Glourie.

Donat plays a dual role as both the titular ghost, Murdoch Glourie, and his identical descendant, Donald Glourie, neither of whom has helped the family’s fortunes over the centuries. The impoverished Donald is forced to sell his haunted ancestral castle to a rich American businessman, Mr. Martin (Eugene Pallette), who promptly disassembles the home and has it reconstructed in Florida, unwittingly taking the ghost along, too. Ghost mania erupts when Murdoch makes an appearance on the transatlantic voyage, but Murdoch also causes trouble for Donald with Martin’s daughter, Peggy (Jean Parker), who assumes that the ghost is really just Donald playing pretend.

Ghost Goes Robert Donat Jean Parker — Both Murdoch and Donald are attracted to Peggy Martin (Jean Parker), who encourages her wealthy father to buy the Glourie family’s castle.

The setup of The Ghost Goes West has a lot in common with The Canterville Ghost (1944), which appeared almost a decade later but is based on an 1887 short story by Oscar Wilde. The 1935 movie is adapted from a short story called “Sir Tristam Goes West” by Eric Keown, and if you’re interested in reading it you’ll find it included in the 2007 anthology, The Mammoth Book of Modern Ghost Stories. Given the changes to Wilde’s original story in the 1944 movie, it’s entirely possible that the Charles Laughton vehicle borrowed some of its plot elements from Keown’s story or its 1935 adaptation. In both movies, an angry father curses his disappointing son to haunt the family home until he can prove himself worthy, and then, centuries later, modern Americans show up to force the ghost outside his comfort zone. In The Ghost Goes West, however, the unhappy spirit actually gets transported to America, which offers lots of opportunities for him to affect and be affected by the modern American culture he finds there. Donald also goes along due to his romantic interest in Peggy, and, like his ancestor, Donald finds a lot to complain about in the way Martin and his compatriots treat the castle, the ghost, and Scots heritage. The ticker tape parade, the Venetian gondola, the omnipresent radios hidden in everything, the rival businessmen in their kilts, and the “authentic” Scottish music are all very funny but also underscore general American ignorance and appropriation.

Ghost Goes Robert Donat crates — Poor Murdoch finds himself transported to America along with the disassembled stones of his ancient home.

If the commentary is a bit pointed for American viewers, that medicine goes down better with the sweet romance and comedic performances. The fairy tale quality of the story is enhanced by the use of elaborate miniatures for exterior shots throughout the picture, and the atmosphere of the whole brings to mind the similar qualities of I Know Where I’m Going! (1945), especially because both share an interest in Scottish characters and culture. Robert Donat is, ironically, livelier as the girl crazy Murdoch but more serious about Peggy as Donald, while Jean Parker gives Peggy playful energy in her scenes with both of the Glourie men. It’s great fun to see Donat switch between Murdoch and Donald and even act against himself thanks to the usual split screen technique used for dual roles. Eugene Pallette is perfectly cast as one of his trademark characters, the wealthy but unpolished father, while Ralph Bunker gives Pallette plenty of pushback as Martin’s rival grocer, Mr. Bigelow. If I have a complaint about The Ghost Goes West, it’s the glaring underuse of the fabulous Elsa Lanchester as Miss Shepperton, a character who only appears as a guest at the Florida party and has no apparent purpose. If you want to see more of a performance from Lanchester in a supernatural comedy, you’ll have to move on to Bell, Book and Candle (1958) or Blackbeard’s Ghost (1968).

Ghost Goes Robert Donat Ralph Bunker — Murdoch finally finds a descendant of the hated McLaggen clan in Mr. Martin’s rival, Mr. Bigelow (Ralph Bunker).

René Clair also directed another of my favorite supernatural comedies, the wonderful I Married a Witch (1942). Robert Donat won the Oscar for Best Actor for his performance in Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939), and you can also see him in The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), The 39 Steps (1935), and The Citadel (!938). Jean Parker plays Beth in the 1933 adaptation of Little Women; she also appears in Beyond Tomorrow (1940), One Body Too Many (1944), and The Gunfighter (1950). Eugene Pallette’s other memorable fathers include those in My Man Godfrey (1936), The Lady Eve (1941), and Heaven Can Wait (1943), but you’ll also find him in the iconic ghost comedy, Topper (1937). For more haunted hijinks, try Haunted Spooks (1920), The Ghost Breakers (1940), 13 Ghosts (1960), and The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (1966). More modern ghost comedies include Ghostbusters (1984), High Spirits (1988), Beetlejuice (1988), The Frighteners (1996), and the 2023 Haunted Mansion, but I can’t close without recommending both the British and American versions of the TV series, Ghosts, and the excellent Paramount+ series, School Spirits, if you want more ghostly adventures than a single feature film allows.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Jennifer is a former college professor with a PhD in English Literature and a lifelong obsession with film. She writes about classic movies at her blog, Virtual Virago, and presents classic film programs for lifetime learning groups and retirement communities. She’s the author of Beyond Casablanca: 100 Classic Movies Worth Watching and its sequel, Beyond Casablanca II: 101 Classic Movies Worth Watching, and she is also the co-editor of two books about the works of Jim Henson.

Posted in Films, Posts by Jennifer Garlen, Silver Screen Standards | Tagged alexander korda, ghost goes west, jean parker, ralph bunker, rene clair, robert donat | Leave a comment

Classic Movie Travels: Dorothy DeBorba

Posted on April 4, 2024 by Annette Bochenek

Classic Movie Travels: Dorothy DeBorba

Dorothy Adelle DeBorba was born on March 28, 1925, in Los Angeles, California, to Raymond and Lillian DeBorba. Her mother had a background as a singer, dancer, and actress, while her father played the drums in Paul Whiteman’s orchestra. Raymond and Lillian’s relationship was tumultuous, with the couple marrying and divorcing three times in Dorothy’s life.

DeBorba became a beloved child star of Portuguese Azorean descent in Hal Roach’s Our Gang series. She was raised in Livermore, California, and at age five was already a regular on screen. In particular, she impressed Roach with her ability to cry on cue, securing her role as Dorothy “Echo” DeBorba in Our Gang. She made her debut in the series as Jackie Cooper’s sister in Pups is Pups (1930). By 1931, she would essentially replace series regular Mary Ann Jackson.

DeBorba sported trademark curls and large hair bows handmade by her mother. Each evening, DeBorba’s mother brushed and set DeBorba’s hair into curls—a process that took roughly two hours. Despite her composed on-screen persona, DeBorba was a tom-boy off-screen. She especially enjoyed getting messy in Pups is Pups, jumping in the mud and having to be cleaned and redressed over the course of thirty-seven takes.

Dorothy DeBorba Little Rascals — Dorothy DeBorba, The Little Rascals

As three years went by, DeBorba grew and was phased out of the series. Her final Our Gang role was in Mush and Milk (1933). DeBorba made a brief appearance alongside Jean Harlow in Bombshell (1933), which would be her final screen credit as an actress.

DeBorba graduated from Van Nuys High School, later working at Republic Pictures as a secretary. She went on to be a senior clerk at the University of California—Berkeley School of Journalism.

DeBorba married twice. Her first marriage was brief and sadly ended with her as a widow. Her next marriage was to Max Ferdinand Haberreiter, with whom she had two children: Richard and Janet. They settled in Northern California until the marriage ended in divorce.

DeBorba was readily available for interviews regarding her time in Our Gang. She became a member of the Sons of the Desert in 1980 and frequently attended their conventions until her health prevented her from further travel.

She passed away from emphysema on June 2, 2010, at age 85 in Walnut Creek, California. There was no service for her.

Today, there are still some points of interest in connection with DeBorba that exist.

In the 1930s, she lived at 1368 N. St Andrews Pl., Los Angeles, California, with her mother. This home no longer stands. By 1940, they lived at 2708 E. 14^th Ave., in Oakland, California. At this point, her mother was working as a florist. The home stands today.

2708 E. 14th Ave., in Oakland, California — 2708 E. 14th Ave., Oakland, California

By 1941, DeBorba was attending Van Nuys High School, which also stands.

In 1950, DeBorba lived at 114 Coral Way, Apt. 3, in Redondo Beach, California. She was widowed at this point and working as a salesperson at a five-and-dime store. By 1952, she was married to Haberreiter and residing at 129 N. Pacific Coast Hwy. 1, Redondo Beach, California. Both of these homes have since been razed.

In the 1990s, she lived at 1810 Montecito Circle in Livermore, California.

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–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

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

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

Posted in Classic Movie Travels, Posts by Annette Bochenek | Tagged dorothy deborba | Leave a comment

Silents are Golden: 7 Remarkable Lillian Gish Films

Posted on March 30, 2024 by Lea Stans

7 Remarkable Lillian Gish Films

You may have heard about the great actress Lillian Gish, whose film career lasted from the early days of film in the 1910s all the way to her final movie appearance in The Whales of August (1987). But if you haven’t seen much of her work, you might be wondering where to start–especially in regards to her silent era classics. Here’s a list of seven notable silents to help you get acquainted with this exceptional artist.

7. The Mothering Heart (1913)

Lillian and her sister Dorothy were teenaged stage actresses when they joined Biograph studio in 1912, back when most films were one or two reels long. Working mainly with director D.W. Griffith, they quickly learned the ropes of film acting and became two of Biograph’s most familiar faces. Dorothy had a knack for comedy while Lillian was drawn to tragic stories, such as the two-reeler The Mothering Heart. Playing a tender-hearted and rather naive young wife who discovers her husband is having an affair, Gish’s sincere performance quickly wins over the viewer. A surprising late scene involving a burst of anger shows her range, even this early on in her film career.

6. Broken Blossoms

Gish is sometimes identified with “tragic waif” types of roles, and there’s no better example than her portrayal of Lucy Burrows in this heartbreaking melodrama. Based on a short story by Thomas Burke, it follows the gentle, idealistic Cheng Huan who leaves China in hopes of spreading Buddhism abroad. He ends up living in a gritty London neighborhood where he encounters Lucy, the angelic and terribly abused daughter of the thuggish boxer Battling Burrows. While the casting of Richard Barthelmess as Cheng seems controversial today, he plays the role with sincerity and dignity. Gish is unforgettable as the persecuted Lucy, delivering a heartrending performance. One claustrophobic scene involving her animal-like reaction to being trapped in a closet would even have echoes in The Shining decades later.

5. True Heart Susie (1919)

No film could create a sweet, nostalgic portrait of rural life quite like a silent film, and True Heart Susie is one of the finest examples. Gish plays the shy country girl Susie, who is “sweet on” the neighbor boy William. Dreaming of a bright future with him, Susie decides to secretly help him go to college by selling her beloved cow and allowing him to believe a rich benefactor is lending him a hand. Ah, but what if William eventually falls for someone else? This film radiates a love of youthful “days gone by,” and both it and Gish’s performance are sweetly sentimental without getting too cloying.

4. Way Down East (1920)

One of the box office hits of 1920, Way Down East was the result of Griffith taking a decidedly old-fashioned Victorian play–what folks might call a “hoary old chestnut”–and transforming it to as close to an art piece as anyone could. Lillian played the innocent Anna who’s put through a wringer of tragic events. She’s seduced by a manipulative cad, gets cast aside, deals quietly with the resulting pregnancy, loses the baby, and tries to start over as a hired girl on a farm. For its most iconic sequence, where Anna is collapsed on an ice floe drifting closer and closer to a waterfall, Gish insisted on trailing her hand in the real, icy river for effect, resulting in permanent nerve damage.

3. The White Sister (1923)

The words “purity” and “spirituality” were certainly associated with Lillian Gish, and this feature was an ideal vehicle to showcase those qualities. Gish plays a prince’s daughter who loses her noble status, and after hearing that her lover was killed during an expedition, she decides to become a nun. While settling into her new life, she’s shocked to learn that her lover is alive. Filmed in Italy, it was the first film Gish appeared in after leaving the Griffith fold (albeit on friendly terms). She was very interested in recreating the Catholic “taking the veil” ceremony, which apparently had never been captured on film before. She worked closely with the clergy to ensure it was conducted with respect and authenticity.

2. The Scarlet Letter (1926)

Gish’s turn as Hester Prynne gave her one of the few-and-far-between chances to expand beyond her innocent waif roles. Directed by Swedish filmmaker Victor Sjöström and costarring the international star Lars Hansen, this mid-1920s feature is considered one of the most faithful adaptations of Hawthorne’s novel. Gish herself had insisted that MGM adapt The Scarlet Letter, despite their concerns about the subject matter. She proved that she could step gracefully into a “sensual” role while still giving it poignancy and dignity.

1. The Wind (1928)

One of the masterpieces of the late silent era, this dark romantic drama was also Gish’s final silent. Gish plays Letty, a poverty-stricken woman who goes to live on a remote Texas ranch with her cousin and his wife Cora. The area is continually plagued by raging winds, said to drive people mad. Letty clashes with Cora, who’s jealous of her beauty, and she also receives unwanted attention from local men. When Cora finally turns Letty out of the house, she reluctantly agrees to marry the rancher Lige. In the meantime, the ever-present wind begins to drive her towards insanity. Elegantly-directed and featuring a magnificent performance by Gish, The Wind is a must-see for any fan of silent films.

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–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.

Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.

Posted in Posts by Lea Stans, Silents are Golden | Tagged Broken Blossoms, Lillian Gish, the mothering heart, The Scarlet letter, The White Sister, The Wind 1928, true heart susie, way down east | Leave a comment

Noir Noir: Oscar Omission – Barbara Stanwyck

Posted on March 26, 2024 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Noir Noir: Oscar Omission – Barbara Stanwyck

It’s about that time again – awards season! My favorite time of year. As I write this, I’m in the midst of my annual quest to see as many Oscar-nominated films and peformances as possible. (Luckily, with streaming, I’m now able to see all of the entries in the major categories!)

In keeping with the Oscar theme, today’s Noir Nook will take a look at an actress who, for my money, is one of the finest performers from the Golden Age of Hollywood – and who never won an Oscar: Barbara Stanwyck.

I know – it makes no sense, right? Not with films like Stella Dallas and Meet John Doe and The Lady Eve under her belt! But, sadly, it’s true. While Stanwyck was nominated for an Academy Award on four occasions, she never won. To the Academy’s credit, she was given an honorary award in 1982 for being “an artist of impeccable grace and beauty, a dedicated actress and one of the great ladies of Hollywood”, which beats a blank, I suppose, but still. I think Stanwyck should have at least won one competitive Oscar, if not multiple awards, for several of her noirs. Let’s take a look at four that I believe were worthy of the prize.

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Phyllis Dietrichson: Double Indemnity (1944)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omissions Double Indemnity — Barbara Stanwyck as Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity

In this feature – my favorite noir, in case I hadn’t mentioned that lately – Stanywyck’s Phyllis teams with insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) to bump off her husband and enjoy a big insurance payday. Like the best laid plans of mice and men, though, this scheme goes to the left, thanks in big part to Walter’s boss, Barton Keys (Edward G. Robinson), who possesses a flawless intuition – in the form of the “little man” inside his gut.

As Phyllis, Stanwyck brings to life one of noir’s iconic femmes fatales – she’s at once sexy, scheming, vulnerable, intelligent, ruthless, duplicitous, and smooth as polished ice. So many of her scenes are standouts, like the one where she feigns innocence while simultaneously trying to get Walter to assist in her quest to do away with Mr. Dietrichson. Or the one where Walter kills her husband in the car seat beside her, and her face is a blank mask until that last moment when she allows a slight, satisfied smile to curve her lips. Or the one in the supermarket where she frostily informs Walter that it’s “straight down the line for both of us.”

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Martha Ivers: The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omissions, Strange Love of Martha Ivers (pictured with Kirk Douglas) — Barbara Stanwyck and Kirk Douglas in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Here, Stanwyck plays the title role of a woman who, as a child, murdered her hated aunt (Judith Anderson) with a blow from her own cane. (And if that doesn’t give you a clue to Martha’s persona, I don’t know what will.) Martha grew up to run (and expand) the industrial empire she inherited upon her aunt’s death – and to marry Walter O’Neil (Kirk Douglas), the childhood friend who stood beside her (literally and figuratively) during the crime. Martha’s domain is rocked when serendipity brings the return of another pal from her youth, Sam Masterson (Van Heflin), who was also at Martha’s house on the night of her aunt’s death and has visions of blackmail – at least Martha and Walter believe he does.

Stanwyck’s entrance as the adult Martha is revealing – she exits her chauffeur-driven car and sweeps into her house in the midst of a rainstorm. She enters without a drop of water daring to touch her and addresses her butler without granting him so much as a glance. Stanwyck’s Martha is always in control, always in charge, and usually a little scary; whether she’s browbeating her weak-willed, alcoholic husband, or casting shade in the direction of the down-on-her-luck dame (Lizabeth Scott) who has fallen in love with Sam, she’s always the center of attention. In my favorite scene, she uses her considerable wiles to coax Sam into killing Walter – and Stanwyck serves up a master class in silent acting as she observes the outcome.

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Thelma Jordon: The File on Thelma Jordon (1950)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omissions, The File on Thelma Jordon (pictured with Wendell Corey) — Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey in The File on Thelma Jordon

Once again in the title role, Stanwyck plays a woman who kills her wealthy aunt (what is with Stanwyck and aunts?) and is prosecuted for the crime by Cleve Marshall (Wendell Corey), the assistant District Attorney with whom she’s been having an affair. Three guesses as to whether Cleve pulls out all the stops to ensure a guilty verdict – and the first two don’t count.

Stanwyck’s Thelma is an interesting character. She’s not hard-boiled like Phyllis Dietrichson, or domineering like Martha Ivers. You can understand why Cleve falls for her – she’s quietly sexy, subtly elegant, sophisticated but not unreachable. Her voice is soft and smoky, she’s easy to talk to and to listen to, especially when she says things like this: “I only know I think of you all day and all night. What I’ll wear so you’ll look at me with that look in your eyes like now. . . . And what I’ll do the next time you take me in your arms.” Incidentally, she’s also an expert liar, which she demonstrates not just with Cleve but with her other lover, Tony (Richard Rober). But that’s a whole ‘nother story. The bottom line is, Stanwyck is several different women in this film – and she plays them each to perfection.

…..

Leona Stevenson: Sorry, Wrong Number (1948)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omission, Sorry, Wrong Number — Barbara Stanwyck as Leona Stevenson in Sorry, Wrong Number

In this feature, based on a 1943 radio play, Stanwyck is spoiled and self-centered heiress Leona Stevenson, whose confinement to her bed due to a heart condition has not diminished her dominance over her weak-willed husband (Burt Lancaster) or her doting father (Ed Begley, Sr.). When crossed telephone wires allow her to overhear two men planning a soon-to-be murder, she tries to learn more about the plot, but discovers more than she’d bargained for.

With the exception of flashbacks, Stanwyck’s Leona spends the bulk of the film in bed, which makes her performance even more impressive. From there, she emotes and emotes and emotes, taking her character from petulance to annoyance, haughtiness to hysteria, and anxiety to terror. After the film’s release, the reviewer for Cue proclaimed that Stanwyck had turned in the best performance of her career. I can’t argue with that.

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So, what do you think? Should Stanwyck have earned an Oscar for any of these noirs? And can you think of any other noir performances that deserved Oscar recognition? Leave a comment and let me know!

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– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.

Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages.
If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:

Posted in Noir Nook, Posts by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry | Tagged barbara stanwyck, Double Indemnity, Kirk Douglas, oscar omission, Sorry Wrong Number, The File on Thelma Jordon, the strange love of martha ivers, wendell corey | 2 Comments

Western RoundUp: Final Resting Places, More Western Filmmakers

Posted on March 23, 2024 by Laura Grieve

Final Resting Places: More Western Filmmakers

This month we’ll be taking another of our unique tours through Western film history, paying tribute to a variety of actors as we visit their final resting places.

We begin with longtime “B” Western star Johnny Mack Brown. I was glad to finally locate his final resting place at Forest Lawn Glendale after a couple of unsuccessful attempts. The onetime college football star had a long film career, beginning in silent movies; he appeared in countless “B” films, including many playing characters named either Johnny Mack or Marshal Nevada Jack MacKenzie. Brown also offered excellent support in the Rod Cameron Western Stampede (1949). He’s interred along with his daughter.

Johnny Mack Brown Resting Place — Johnny Mack Brown

Herb Jeffries was a unusual ’30s “B” Western star; of mixed-race heritage, he played a black singing cowboy in a quartet of Westerns released from 1937 to 1939. His movies included interestingly titled films such as Harlem on the Prairie (1937) and Harlem Rides the Range (1939). Jeffries’ film career was fairly short, and he focused mainly on singing from the ’40s on, including a few years performing with Duke Ellington. Jeffries lived to be 100, and his final resting place is at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

Herb Jeffries Resting Place — Herb Jeffries

Another singing cowboy, Ken Carson, is buried at Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whitter, California. As a member of the Sons of the Pioneers, Carson appeared onscreen frequently in Roy Rogers films from 1943 to 1946. He also voiced the Wise Old Owl in Disney’s lovely So Dear to My Heart (1948). Carson died of Lou Gehrig’s disease in 1994. His gravestone features a guitar and references his career as a singing cowboy.

Oscar-winning actress Donna Reed first appeared in Westerns early in her career, playing the leading lady in “B” films such as Apache Trail (1942) and Gentle Annie (1944). Throughout the ’50s she appeared in a number of good Westerns, including Hangman’s Knot (1952) with Randolph Scott, Gun Fury (1953) with Rock Hudson, and Backlash (1956) opposite Richard Widmark. She then moved on to TV success starring on The Donna Reed Show (1958-66). She’s buried at Westwood Memorial Park.

Under her birth name Laraine Johnson, Laraine Day was George O’Brien’s leading lady in a trio of his excellent RKO “B” Westerns, released in 1938 and 1939; along with O’Brien’s “B” films with Virginia Vale, these are great favorites of mine. Later in 1939 she moved to MGM, where as Laraine Day she played beloved nurse Mary Lamont in the Dr. Kildare movie series. She made one Western at MGM, The Bad Man (1941) starring Wallace Beery. Thanks to her marriage to baseball manager Leo Durocher, which lasted from 1948 to 1960, Day was also known as “the First Lady of Baseball.” She’s at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.

While she didn’t have an extensive career in Westerns, British actress Binnie Barnes was memorable appearing opposite Randolph Scott in one of the very first Westerns I wrote about for Classic Movie Hub, Frontier Marshal (1939). She also starred opposite John Wayne in In Old California (1942). Over the course of her career Barnes worked with actors like Laurence Olivier and Ralph Richardson, but she told an interviewer the best actor she worked with was none other than Wayne. Barnes married the adoptive son of actor Joe E. Brown and is buried in the Brown family plot at Forest Lawn Glendale.

binnie barnes resting place 2 images — Binnie Barnes

Oscar-winning British character actor Donald Crisp, known for films like How Green Was My Valley (1941) and National Velvet (1944), may not spring to mind as a Western actor, but he added his considerable gravitas to a number of fine Westerns, including Ramrod (1947), Whispering Smith (1948), The Man From Laramie (1955), and Saddle the Wind (1958). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Donald Crisp Resting Place — Donald Crisp

Character actor Jay C. Flippen worked steadily in Westerns throughout the ’50s, appearing in a trio of fine Anthony Mann Westerns, Winchester ’73 (1950), Bend of the River (1952), and The Far Country (1954). His other Westerns films included Devil’s Canyon (1953), Man Without a Star (1955), and Night Passage (1957). His wife was movie and TV screenwriter Ruth Brooks Flippen. He’s at Westwood Memorial Park

Jay C Flippen Resting Place — Jay C Flippen

Richard Farnsworth had an interesting career, beginning as a stuntman in 1937. Farnsworth was on the stunt crew for many Westerns, including favorites such as Angel and the Badman (1947) and Red River (1948). Farnsworth later moved into acting, receiving Oscar nominations for Comes a Horseman (1978) and The Straight Story (1999). His son, Diamond Farnsworth, also worked as a movie stuntman. Richard Farnsworth’s final resting place is at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.

Richard Farnsworth resting place — Richard Farnsworth

We’ll conclude this month with a trio of actors who appeared in movie Westerns but are best known for their TV Westerns. Clayton Moore appeared in numerous supporting roles in “B” Westerns beginning in 1937 and running into the 1950s, but of course he’s best known as TV’s immortal The Lone Ranger (1949-57). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Clayton Moore Resting Place — Clayton Moore

Chuck Connors appeared occasionally in Western films, including The Hired Gun (1957), before becoming a major Western TV star as The Rifleman (1958-63). His gravestone at San Fernando Mission Cemetery in Mission Hills pays tribute to his most famous Western role, along with his sports careers with the Dodgers, Cubs, and Boston Celtics.

Chuck Connors Resting Place — Chuck Connors

Hugh O’Brian first appeared in movie Westerns in 1950, playing a supporting role in Gene Autry’s Beyond the Purple Hills (1950). He appeared in numerous Westerns throughout the ’50s, many for Universal Pictures, before hitting it big in the title role in TV’s The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp (1955-61). He’s at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Hugh OBrian Resting Place — Hugh O’Brian

For additional photos of the burial sites of Western filmmakers, please visit my columns from May 2019, February 2022, November 2, 2022, November 29, 2022, April 2023, and November 2023.

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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.

Posted in Posts by Laura Grieve, Western RoundUp | Tagged binnie barnes, Chuck Connors, Clayton Moore, donald crisp, donna reed, herb jeffries, hugh o'brian, Jay C. Flippen, Johnny Mack Brown, ken carson, laraine day, Richard Farnsworth | 1 Comment

Silver Screen Standards: Heaven Can Wait (1943)

Posted on March 14, 2024 by Jennifer Garlen

Silver Screen Standards: Heaven Can Wait (1943)

While you might expect a movie about the balance of a man’s life being judged at the gates of Hell to be heavy existential stuff, Ernst Lubitsch’s Heaven Can Wait (1943) serves it up as a sparkling romantic comedy in the director’s quintessential style. Dapper Don Ameche makes the protagonist appealing in spite of his peccadilloes, and even the Devil himself seems charmed by the new arrival, but that’s just where the fun begins. There’s so much to love about this picture: Ameche’s performance, the gorgeous Technicolor cinematography, the delightful comedy scenes, and especially the extensive cast of outstanding supporting players. So many of my personal favorites have great roles, from Marjorie Main and Spring Byington to Charles Coburn, Eugene Pallette, and Laird Cregar, but Ameche and the beautiful Gene Tierney are perfectly cast as the leading lovers experiencing the many joys and sorrows of a life together.

Don Ameche and Gene Tierney Heaven Can Wait phone — From the moment he first sees her, Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche) is smitten with Martha (Gene Tierney).

Ameche stars as the newly deceased Henry Van Cleve, who presents himself to the Devil (Laird Cregar) for admission to Hell because he assumes that Heaven won’t take him. Henry then recounts his life, which he admits has been dominated by his relationships with women, starting with his doting mother (Spring Byington) and grandmother (Clara Blandick). Henry’s account of himself, told through a series of long flashbacks, primarily focuses on his marriage to Martha (Gene Tierney) and the years they spent together, although Henry feels that his self-indulgent behavior has not merited a reunion with his wife in Heaven.

Laird Cregar Heaven Can Wait — Laird Cregar makes a very debonair Devil as “His Excellency,” to whom Henry recounts the story of his life.

Don Ameche is very much in his element as Henry, a feckless but amiable fellow whose deep love for Martha can’t make him behave as well as she deserves. Even in the later scenes, when he appears in increasing layers of old-age makeup, Ameche maintains his immense charm, though he transforms over the years from youthful rogue to geriatric playboy. His failures as a husband are mostly understated and unspecified, the better, perhaps, to retain our sympathy. In spite of his impulsive, careless nature, Henry certainly looks more appealing in contrast to his priggish cousin Albert (played in his adult form by Allyn Joslyn), to whom Martha is originally engaged. Albert has many fine qualities, which he enumerates to Martha, but he’s terribly dull and takes himself far too seriously to be any good as a lover. Gene Tierney has less to do than Ameche – she’s the object of his affection, not the subject of the story – but she is so breathlessly lovely and good that we understand why Henry resolves to marry her the moment they meet.

Spring Byington and Don Ameche Heaven Can Wait — Henry is doted on and spoiled by all of his relatives, but especially his mother (Spring Byington), who never stays angry at his misdeeds.

With a story that spans every decade of Henry’s life, the picture offers ample opportunity for supporting actors to make memorable appearances, and Heaven Can Wait ends up being a parade of fun scenes with familiar favorites, many of them uncredited. Florence Bates drops in – literally – as a fellow arrival in Hell. Child stars Scotty Beckett and Dickie Moore take turns playing Henry as a child, with Moore having an especially amusing sequence with Signe Hasso as the Van Cleves’ attractive French maid. In addition to Spring Byington and Clara Blandick, the Van Cleve family members are played by Louis Calhern, Tod Andrews (credited as Michael Ames), and the great Charles Coburn, who endures into ripe old age as Henry’s delightfully mischievous grandfather. Coburn is quite the scene stealer, but nothing beats Eugene Pallette and Marjorie Main as Mr. and Mrs. Strabel, Martha’s cantankerous Kansan parents. Watching the two of them fight over the funny pages, much to the amusement of their tactful butler, Jasper (Clarence Muse), is absolute comedy bliss. You could even call it classic movie Heaven.

Marjorie Main Heaven Can Wait table — Marjorie Main plays Martha’s quarrelsome but loving mother, Mrs. Strabel.

Heaven Can Wait earned three Academy Award nominations, with nods for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Color Cinematography, but it went home empty-handed. For more of Ernst Lubitsch’s signature comedy style, see Design for Living (1933), Ninotchka (1939), and To Be or Not to Be (1942). Don Ameche didn’t win an Oscar until very late in his life, when he really was an old man in Cocoon (1986), but you can catch him in his prime in Midnight (1939), The Story of Alexander Graham Bell (1939), and That Night in Rio (1941). You can see Gene Tierney, Laird Cregar, Spring Byington, and Clara Blandick in Rings on Her Fingers (1942), but Tierney is best remembered today for films like Laura (1944), Leave Her to Heaven (1945), and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947). The 1978 movie titled Heaven Can Wait has nothing to do with the 1943 one, but it’s actually a remake of the 1941 supernatural comedy, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, which stars Robert Montgomery as a dead man sent back to Earth in a different body by guardian angel Claude Rains. Both are excellent movies that make fun double features with each other or the original Heaven Can Wait.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Posted in Films, Posts by Jennifer Garlen, Silver Screen Standards | Tagged charles coburn, Don Ameche, eugene pallette, Gene Tierney, Heaven Can Wait, Laird Cregar, marjorie main, spring byington | Leave a comment

Classic Movie Travels: Bobby Hutchins

Posted on March 10, 2024 by Annette Bochenek

Classic Movie Travels: Bobby Hutchins

Robert Eugene Hutchins was born on March 29, 1925, in Tacoma, Washington, to James and Olga Constance Hutchins. As a child, Hutchins was extremely outgoing and family friends persuaded his parents to take him to Hollywood to be photographed. The photographer was so impressed by Hutchins’ personality and asked to screen test him, with the resulting footage ultimately making its way to Hal Roach Studios. Roach thought that Hutchins would be an ideal addition to the Our Gang series and offered Hutchins a five-year contract.

As was typical of the Our Gang children, Hutchins soon received a nickname: “Wheezer.” Reportedly, on his first day at the studio, Hutchins was running around so excitedly that he began to wheeze. The nickname would remain his throughout his tenure in the series, typically portraying a tag-along brother in silent and sound shorts.

Hutchins’ first appearance in the series was in Baby Brother (1927), playing Horatio. He portrayed a main character in many other installments in the series. His character wore a trademark beanie and corduroy vest.

Behind the scenes, Hutchins’ father was particularly competitive and overbearing. Co-star Jackie Cooper once shared the following in an interview:

“You’d go to play with Wheezer, and his father would pull him away, very competitive. I didn’t get a satisfactory answer from my mother or grandmother as to why, but he was to be left alone. I guess his father was trying to make him a star or something. Obviously it never happened as it did for Spanky or some of the other kids.”

When not filming, Hutchins’ father isolated him from the other children and malnourished him, deliberately underfeeding him to keep him small and employable. This also held true for Hutchins’ brother, Richard Rae “Dickie” Hutchins, who also spent time in the series. His plan backfired; while Hutchins photographed well, he lacked the energy and commanding screen presence of his leading co-stars. Hutchins fulfilled the rest of his contract as a background player.

Once his contract was up for renewal in 1933, Hutchins’ parents walked out on Roach, demanding higher pay for Hutchins. As a result, Hutchins missed the final four episodes of the 1932 season, with the new gang leader being portrayed by child star Dickie Moore. Roach ultimately terminated Hutchins’ contract when Hutchins was eight years old. His final appearance in the series was in Mush and Milk (1933).

Beyond his time in Our Gang, Hutchins made appearances in three other featurettes. His parents divorced and Hutchins, his mother, stepfather, and brother moved to Tacoma, Washington. There, he enrolled in Parkland Grade School and, later, Lincoln High School. He eventually worked as a gas station attendant in 1942. After his high school graduation, he joined the U.S. Army Air Forces by 1943, enrolling in the Aviation Cadet Program to become a pilot.

Tragically, Hutchins was killed as a result of a mid-air collision on May 17, 1945. He was trying to land a plane during the last 30 minutes of his basic training when it struck another plane of the same unit at Merced Army Air Field in Merced, California, later to become Castle Air Force Base. Edward F. Hamel, the other pilot, survived. Hutchins was close to graduating from this training program and his mother was scheduled to travel to the airfield the following week for the commencement ceremony. He was 20 years old.

Following his funeral at Trinity Lutheran Church, Hutchins was laid to rest at Parkland Lutheran Cemetery in Tacoma, Washington. His grave is honored with a flag each Memorial Day.

In 1930, Hutchins and his parents lived at 9036 Gibson Los Angeles, California. His father worked as an artists’ manager at this point, presumably for Hutchins. The home stands.

In 1940, Hutchins lived with his mother, stepfather Russell Hagerson, brother, and grandmother, in the Brookdale neighborhood of Tacoma, Washington.

The scene of his crash still exists near Castle Air Force Base and is inaccessible to the general public.

Trinity Lutheran Church’s “Old Gray Church” no longer stands but Parkland Lutheran Cemetery is located at 510 136^th St. E., Tacoma, Washington.

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–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

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

Posted in Child Stars, Classic Movie Travels, Posts by Annette Bochenek | Tagged bobby hutchins, Little Rascals, Our Gang | Leave a comment

Monsters and Matinees: Meeting The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre

Posted on March 9, 2024 by Toni Ruberto

Meeting The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre

Louise Mandore was just a child when she wandered off during a family funeral and accidentally locked herself in a burial chamber. The experience left her haunted by nightmares and with a lifelong fear of being buried alive.

She made sure that would never happen.

Her will mandated the following:

Five doctors had to examine her and sign the death certificate.
Her body would not be embalmed.
The coffin lid would remain open, never to be closed.
And one last thing: A phone had to be within arm’s reach of the coffin with a direct line into the bedroom of her son, Henry, so she could call for help by dialing the code H-E-L-P (it’s engraved on a nearby cross in her tomb).

Telephones loom large throughout *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre* including the one in the room of Henry Mandore (played by Tom Simcox), that is a direct line to his mother’s crypt.

Darn, if a year after Louise dies, that phone doesn’t start ringing in Henry’s room, with the sounds of a sobbing woman on the other end.

That crying – loud and jarring – is the first thing heard in The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre, a noise uncomfortably repeated throughout the atmospheric 1964 horror film.

Those opening seconds over grainy images of a cemetery will abruptly shift to overhead views of a large city as dark, dramatic music plays. But wait – the mood changes again. Large waves wash away the cityscape to reveal a beach where a man walks, looking casually chic and handsome in a pullover sweater. The music is carefree and romantic and then abruptly goes all bleak and bombastic again. That shifting tone will continue, keeping us unsettled as the story unfolds.

Walking toward us is Martin Landau as Nelson Orion, the credits announce, then listing “guest stars” like Judith Anderson and Diane Baker. Great cast but guest stars? What’s going on? Is this a television series?

Yes and no.

Martin Landau is a steady, impressive presence as an architect who restores forsaken houses – and people – in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre was the pilot for a planned anthology TV series to be called The Haunted by Joseph Stefano, known for writing Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and for his writing and producing on The Outer Limits TV series. This explained why Ghost felt like a nicely done extended episode of The Twilight Zone. (I am not as familiar with The Outer Limits, hence the TZ reference.)

Stefano did Ghost after leaving The Outer Limits and brought some crew members with him. In addition to the notable cast, it also featured the skills of composer Dominic Frontiere and director of photography Conrad Hall (Oscar winner for Butch Cassidy and the Sunshine Kid, Road to Perdition and American Beauty). There is talent here.

* * * * *

Young married couple Henry Mandore (played by Tom Simcox) and Vivia (Diane Baker) live on a large 100-acre family estate with a mansion that would be right at home in a gothic horror film like The Haunting.

Judith Anderson adds to the creepy factor as she lurks about a large mansion as the housekeeper to Tom Simcox and Diane Baker in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

Vivia returns from a three-week trip to take care of charity donations made by Henry’s mother to find him traumatized by those sobbing phone calls. (Henry has been blind since birth.) To ramp up the unease, there’s scary new housekeeper Paulina (Judith Anderson) who terrifies Vivia at first sight, walking out of the shadows with heavy eye makeup and a scowl. Paulina is always quietly lurking about like a specter as she peers out from behind doors and bushes, unnervingly sits in a corner just watching and skulks about the cemetery.

It’s in the cemetery at midnight that Vivia meets Nelson Orion (we’ll just call him Orion because it’s a cool name) at her husband’s request, thanking him for not dismissing her call as a prank. She doesn’t believe in ghosts – nor, surprisingly, does our paranormal investigator – but they are both willing to research the sobbing phone calls to help Henry. Orion, an architect who makes a sizable living at his trade and does this on the side, won’t charge a penny if it is a “real” haunting, but if it’s a fraud, he says, he will tell the police.

A young wife (played by Diane Baker) is frightened by strange occurrences.

They enter the impressive mausoleum, which is the size of a house with multiple rooms, stairs and artifacts. It would be almost homey if it wasn’t inhabited by the dead. As they nonchalantly walk and talk along the dark hallways toward the burial chamber of Henry’s mother, the camera also follows someone traveling the corridors, sobbing. Doors blow open and slam shut, but only the viewer is aware of this at first. Then the force bursts into the mother’s tomb attacking Orion and Vivia, all whirling winds, screeching violins, shrieks and cries. It is terrifying to watch Vivia flail and scream like a madwoman as she bats away at some sinister entity. (Baker is terrific in this film.)

What just happened? They aren’t waiting around to find out, but Vivia has left her purse behind and runs back to get it. Then she inexplicably sits, opens the purse in the tomb and pulls out a vial as everything starts up again: the lightning, the wailing wind and now a visit by a blood-splashed ghostly figure in a black shroud.

Vivia, who clearly has issues, loses it again with this second incident and spends the night at Orion’s ultramodern beach house perched on a cliff to recover. (It’s not clear why he took her there and not home – there is not a romance between them.)

Martin Landau, left, and Diane Baker are terrorized by an unseen force in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre.* This scene is inside a crypt where a telephone sits near the coffin of a woman who was terrified of being buried alive.

The next morning, she is soothed after drinking from that black vial, and is then transfixed by a painting of Mission at the Sierra de Cobre on Orion’s immense gallery wall of artwork. He explains his skills were once needed there to solve the legend of a bleeding ghost and a murder. It did not go well as we later learn because our creepy housekeeper just happened to be there at the same time. Paulina calls Orion a charlatan because he failed to “exorcise the bleeding ghost” in Sierra de Cobre and wants him gone. But Orion’s not going anywhere until he can help – and that means helping everyone.

As an architect, he works on the restoration of old, forsaken homes and this “hobby” does the same by restoring people. His belief is that everyone is haunted by something, real or imaginary, and that’s true of these people. Henry wants a paranormal explanation because if it’s not his mother haunting him, then he’s going mad as his father did. Vivia, who is prone to nightmares, seems especially sensitive to paranormal activity and doesn’t handle it well. The mysterious Paulina has something boiling beneath her cold exterior that is ready to explode.

Though only Henry has heard the phone calls, they are all together when a loud and deep banging starts in his room, making a large window seat rumble and cushions fly. Henry and Vivia are terrified, claiming that’s the sound of Louise Mandore pounding her way out of the coffin. Even the skeptical Orion believes it was a psychical disturbance (a phrase he likes to use).

So, what’s really going on?

We’ll get information fast as Orion seeks the truth in his calm, matter of fact way. He uses his housekeeper, Mrs. Finch (delightfully played by Nellie Burt), as a sounding board. She’s a staunch nonbeliever and plays the devil’s advocate for him. The scenes of them talking and throwing ideas off each other get our minds working, too. Drug-induced hallucinations, she suggests? Hidden mechanical devices? This is a bit fun.

* * * * *

Nelson Orion (played by Martin Landau) studies up on his newest investigation by atmospheric candlelight in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

Director Joseph Stefano and cinematographer Conrad Hall do an excellent job of keeping the film tense and melancholy, a great combination for a ghost story. Except for the scenes on the beach, the movie is gloomy at best as Hall plays with light, often filming characters in heavy shadows if not nearly outright darkness. A scene where Orion is reading by the light of giant candelabra is especially effective in keeping the atmospheric mood even at an ordinary moment.

Hall’s camera likes to be overhead, perched above unsuspecting characters as if ready to pounce. Someone – or worse, something – is keeping an eye on all of them and it’s unsettling. He gives menacing life to the telephone by framing it in the forefront of scenes, dwarfing characters and illustrating the hold it has over them.

As Vivia Mandore (Diane Baker) looks on, investigator Henry Orion (Martin Landau) is surprised that the phone inside a tomb is warm to the touch in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

Terror comes in jolting moments like that early scene with Vivia and Orion in the mother’s tomb. Stefano makes sure the viewer doesn’t get comfortable.

Stefano’s storytelling keeps us intrigued and when he finally unravels all the strings that tie everything together we see that he gave us just enough information to keep us going, but not enough for the full picture so we have a satisfying conclusion to meeting The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre.

* * * * *

Nelson Orion (Martin Landau) and his housekeeper Mrs. Finch (Nellie Burt) talk through his latest case in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

It’s a bummer that Nelson Orion only lives in this film. I really enjoyed watching him thoughtfully work the case. We can see how Mrs. Finch and architect Benedict Sloane (played by Leonard Stone) are set up to be the two recurring characters in future episodes. I would have enjoyed sitting in on more conversations with Orion and Mrs. Finch.

And what about the beautiful blonde on the beach Orion invited to a haunted house on Friday night? I wonder how that date went – and if there will be a second one. Yes, I feel cheated by only meeting Nelson Orion once and thinking of all the future investigations that never came to be.

But the film gave me a new appreciation for Martin Landau and there is much I have to yet to see by the actor. Plus I will definitely revisit The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre. That will keep me busy.

– Toni Ruberto for Classic Movie Hub

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

Posted in Classic TV, Monsters and Matinees, Posts by Toni Ruberto | Tagged Diane Baker, Joseph Stefano, judith anderson, Martin Landau, psycho, The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre, The Outer Limits | 1 Comment

Western RoundUp: Joe Kidd

Posted on February 27, 2024 by Laura Grieve

Western RoundUp: Joe Kidd (1972)

It may be hard to believe, given my love for Westerns, but up to this point the only Clint Eastwood Western I’d seen was his early film Ambush at Cimarron Pass (1958), which I reviewed here close to two years ago.

I watch relatively few post ’60s Westerns, being leery of the more overt violence often found in films of that era, but I’ve nonetheless been intending to give Eastwood’s “spaghetti Westerns” a try. However, I decided I’d start my Eastwood Western viewing with Joe Kidd (1972).

I was drawn to Joe Kidd by its locations, including Old Tucson, which I’ve visited a couple of times, and Lone Pine’s Alabama Hills, an area with which I have great familiarity. The movie also filmed around Bishop and Sherwin Summit, spots further north of Lone Pine on Highway 395.

I was also interested as the movie was directed by John Sturges. Sturges had previously worked in Lone Pine on Bad Day at Black Rock (1955) and The Law and Jake Wade (1958). Coincidentally, Sturges also directed the last movie I reviewed for this column, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957).

Joe Kidd Clint Eastwood — Clint Eastwood as Joe Kidd

Joe Kidd is set in Sinola, a town in the American Southwest, circa 1900; the film was actually titled Sinola in some countries. Eastwood plays Kidd, a one-time bounty hunter in jail for disturbing the peace.

Kidd, now a rancher, is recruited by wealthy land owner Frank Harlan (Robert Duvall) to track down Chama (John Saxon), a revolutionary trying to reclaim local ancestral lands for his people.

Kidd initially declines to join Harlan but changes his mind after he finds Chama has injured one of his workers and stolen his horses. However, Kidd quickly becomes dismayed with the brutality of Harlan and his men.

Harlan’s gang takes over a small village and sends a message to Chama that he’ll periodically kill five hostages if Chama refuses to surrender. By that point Harlan no longer trusts Kidd and puts him in the town church along with the hostages.

One by one, Kidd manages to quietly knock off some of Harlan’s men standing guard at the church, then puts in motion a plan to escape and capture Chama himself. Kidd plans to deliver Chama to the sheriff in Sinola, which will also draw Harlan away from the hostages.

Joe Kidd, John Saxon and Clint Eastwood — John Saxon and Clint Eastwood

I thought Joe Kidd was a solid film with a good performance by Eastwood. He’s clearly an imperfect person, as evidenced by his rather childish behavior as the film opens, but he’s also a strong, observant man who isn’t to be trifled with.

Eastwood’s Kidd may be downright scary at times, but he also has some wonderful moments of dry humor, starting with a scene early on where he holds off one of Chama’s men in a saloon, pouring himself a beer while holding a shotgun. A French film poster alludes to this moment:

There’s also a very amusing set piece near the end where Kidd drives a steam train straight through a saloon, gaining the advantage in a shootout with Harlan’s men.

Robert Duvall is as good as one might expect as the powerful Harlan. Initially the viewer sees Harlan as someone willing to spend money and hire bad men in order to have his own way. As the film progresses, however, Harlan reveals he is completely evil, willing to kill indiscriminately and threaten the lives of innocent women and children if Chama doesn’t comply with his wishes.

Saxon’s character isn’t quite so developed, and he shows himself to be an ungrateful chauvinist in a scene with his loyal girlfriend (Stella Garcia). That said, Saxon does what he can with the material he has to work with, particularly near the end when he and Eastwood reach a situation where “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Chama may not like Kidd trying to take him to the law, but he does recognize Kidd is far more ethical than Harlan.

The section of the film where Joe is held with the hostages but manages to knock off a couple of his captors seemed strikingly familiar…and then I made one of those wonderful movie connections which helped explain that feeling. The Joe Kidd screenplay was by Elmore Leonard, who also wrote the story which inspired the Randolph Scott-Budd Boetticher film The Tall T (1957).

In The Tall T, Scott is held hostage by Richard Boone, but late in the movie he manages to cleverly dispatch a couple of Boone’s henchmen. No wonder that Joe Kidd sequence seemed so familiar! In another nice connection, The Tall T was also filmed in the Alabama Hills.

Speaking of locations, it’s somewhat amusing to have the characters in Joe Kidd ride out of the Alabama Hills straight into Old Tucson, but that type of editing is also something Western fans are accustomed to seeing. For instance, I recall a Hopalong Cassidy Western where characters in the Alabama Hills shoot at people who are at Iverson Ranch!

The movie was beautifully shot in Technicolor Panavision by Bruce Surtees, son of Oscar-winning cinematographer Robert Surtees. Bruce Surtees worked on numerous Eastwood films as both camera operator and cinematographer.

The unique Alabama Hills landscapes look marvelous in Joe Kidd, as shot by Surtees. Here’s a screenshot prominently showcasing Lone Pine Peak, in the background at the left. Mount Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States, is deeper in the background, just left of center. I suspect it was as cold as it looks here!

Here are a couple additional screen captures of the stunning views of the Alabama Hills:

As it happens, my husband has taken horseback tour groups past some of the Joe Kidd locations in his role as a tour trail guide for the Lone Pine Film Festival. Fans of the film should considering attending the festival for an “in person” look at the scenery.

There are a number of familiar faces in Joe Kidd’s supporting cast, including Don Stroud, Dick Van Patten, Gregory Walcott, and Chuck Hayward.

It was fun to see Clint Ritchie, who plays Calvin, in this film; Ritchie later spent a couple decades playing Phil Carey’s son on the soap opera One Life to Live.

Lynne Marta, who plays Duvall’s rather giddy mistress, who finds herself attracted to Joe, just passed away in January 2024, at the age 78. Marta was part of a sad story in Hollywood history, providing eyewitness testimony on the shooting death of her friend, actress Rebecca Schaeffer, in 1989.

The Joe Kidd musical score was composed by Lalo Schifrin.

Joe Kidd is a solid mid-range Western with a number of positive things to offer, including good performances, excellent locations, and connections to Westerns past. I found it worthwhile, and seeing it encouraged me to continue digging deeper into Eastwood’s Westerns.

I watched this film on an attractive Universal Pictures Blu-ray released in 2018. The disc had English subtitles but no extras. Two years later the movie was released as a Kino Lorber Special Edition Blu-ray with a commentary track and an interview with cast member Don Stroud.

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– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub