Re-visiting the Astaire and Rogers Musicals

FLYING DOWN TO RIO (1933) -- Fred and Ginger have supporting roles in this South American-flavored love story. The leads are Gene Raymond and Dolores Del Rio, but it's Astaire & Rogers who made a big impression, especially with the extended "Carioca" number. It's an enjoyable romantic-musical comedy but mostly of note today for introducing Astaire and Rogers to the screen as a team.

THE GAY DIVORCEE (1934) -- One of the team's funniest pictures, especially the "Let's Knock Knees" number with Edward Everett Horton. Contains some of their best numbers, including "Night and Day" and "The Continental". I enjoyed this one primarily for the great comedy.

ROBERTA (1935) -- Coming after THE GAY DIVORCEE, this one feels like a step backward, putting Astaire and Rogers into supporting roles under stars Randolph Scott and Irene Dunne. But their scenes together are fun, as always, and the movie comes to life when they are on-screen. Unlike the later misfire CAREFREE, this one is just a rather dull film lacking the energy of the best Astaire & Rogers pictures. Musical highlights are "I Won't Dance" and "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes".

TOP HAT (1935) -- Perhaps Fred and Ginger's most elegant film. The plot is a solid farce of mistaken relationships, making it one of the team's most fun pictures as well, topped by a first-rate Irving Berlin score.

FOLLOW THE FLEET (1936) -- Possibly the lightest and most entertaining entry in the Astaire & Rogers cycle, with a nice ensemble cast (Fred and Ginger, along with Randolph Scott and Harriet Hilliard) who gel nicely together. The shipboard scenes are a lot of fun, and offer a nice backdrop for some dance numbers. The highlight for me is "Let's Face the Music and Dance", performed on a stunning Art Deco stage.

SWING TIME (1936) -- Some really beautiful numbers here that showcase the team here to their full potential. Astaire's "Bojangles of Harlem" number is particularly impressive for the synchronized dancing against the backdrop of dancing shadows, and the "A Fine Romance" number get my vote as the most beautiful that the team ever did, performed on a snowy soundstage -- Hollywood artifice at its most appealing. Often cited as the team's best film, but I found myself missing the colorful supporting cast of some of the other films who were always such a welcome presence.

SHALL WE DANCE (1937) -- Another one I enjoyed primarily for the comedy, another romantic farce with an amusing premise of a bit of gossip getting blown up into a full-fledged scandal. The syncopated shipboard machinery of the "Slap That Bass" number is great example of the really innovative numbers that I love about these films. Several great George & Ira Gershwin tunes appear here including "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off", "They Can't Take That Away From Me", and the title song.

CAREFREE (1938) -- The weakest of the team's vehicles. It has a strong feel of the "Screwball" comedy style about it, which makes for some fun, zany scenes, but it lacks the tender, subtle moments of their best films, and contains no especially memorable dance numbers.

THE STORY OF VERNON AND IRENE CASTLE (1939) -- This biopic of the husband-and-wife dance team is a sprawling but charming affair. Somewhat an atypical film in the Astaire and Rogers cycle, much more dramatic than usual for them, but still a fine showcase for their talents, and featuring a virtual songbook of late 19th- and early 20th-century tunes.

THE BARKLEYS OF BROADWAY (1949) -- Fred & Ginger's final film as a team, about a husband and wife musical comedy team whose relationship (both personal and professional) is threatened when the wife decides to pursue a dramatic acting career. An MGM production, it's bigger and more elaborate than their earlier RKO pictures, and their only film together to be shot in Technicolor, but Astaire and Rogers never get overwhelmed by the production value, and it's great to see them reprise "They Can't Take that Away From Me". A fitting capper to one of the finest pairings in all of cinema.

Pygmalion (1937)

1937 Dutch film version of the George Bernard Shaw play, starring Lily Bouwmeester as Eliza and Johan De Meester as Higgins.

Made a year before the classic Leslie Howard-Wendy Hiller version. The humor translates surprisingly well, although the dialogue necessarily loses some of its nuance when translated in subtitles. Interesting to see a different ending to the story rather than the one that Shaw wrote for the 1938 film.

Lord of the Manor (1933)

This fun British "Quota Quickie" is a comedy of manners set in an English manor home. When the lord of the manor is forced to move some of the workers in to his spare rooms, romance blooms between two of the young aristocrats and their new housemates.

Henry Wilcoxon -- a year before his breakout role in DeMille's CLEOPATRA -- has an early role here as the young working class man who falls in love with aristocrat Betty Stockfeld. Frederick Kerr, best remembered by movie buffs as Baron Frankenstein in the 1931 Universal horror classic, gives a fine comic starring turn in the title role, wonderfully paired with Kate Cutler as his wife. Also in the cast are Frank Bertram, Joan Marion, Deering Wells, and April Dawn. Written by John Hastings Turner.

T-Men (1947)

Looking for an early morning movie I came across this one on the Criterion Channel. Seemed like a good pick for an early Saturday morning...

Always enjoy these Anthony Mann noir/procedurals. This time Dennis O'Keefe is a treasury agent pursuing a group of counterfeiters. Worth watching for John Alton's incredible cinematography alone.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith (1941)

Watched this one last night and realized I hadn't seen it before. I guess it was one of those Hitchcock films I always intended to get around to but actually hadn't seen yet. He supposedly made it as a favor to Carole Lombard -- although further details indicate it was a project he personally initiated on his own -- but either way, Lombard is absolutely radiant in it, and her typically brilliant comedy timing and energy gels fine with Hitchcock's direction. This was just her second-to-last film before her untimely death.

In the DVD supplements, director Richard Franklin calls this Hitchcock's only "essentially American picture" -- which is true in the sense that he's working entirely within a distinctly Hollywood genre (Screwball comedy), and engaging in pure farce rather than his usual droll sense of humor.

Despite its title, this film bears no relation to the 2005 film with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie as a married couple who reveal that they are both assassins assigned to take the other one out. It's fun to imagine what Hitchcock could have done with that script...

Spellbound (1945)

Gregory Peck stars in this Alfred Hitchcock thriller as the newly-arrived director of a mental institute, but it soon becomes clear to the head psychiatrist (Ingrid Bergman) that he isn't who he claims to be...

I can't honestly say it's one of my favorite of The Master's films, but it's definitely worth checking out for Hitchcock & suspense fans, especially for its justly-famous dream sequence designed by Salvador Dali, topped off with a lush score by Miklos Rozsa, gorgeous B&W cinematography from George Barnes, and a pair of great stars -- who never looked more glamorous than they did when working with Hitchcock -- at the top of their game.

It Pays to Advertise (1931)

Farce comedy about the idle, rich son (Norman Foster) of a big businessman (Eugene Pallette), who decides to show his father up by starting his own company to compete with him, but gets himself in to a heap of financial trouble instead. He learns the value of good business skills in the process of getting the company back on its feet. This premise provides the framework for some very funny comic wheelings and dealings, played with good energy by the cast. Based on the play by Roi Cooper Megrue and Walter C. Hackett. The cast includes Carole Lombard as the secretary with whom the son falls in love, and Richard "Skeets" Gallagher as the wisecracking business partner. Tom Kennedy has a brief but quite funny turn as the dense and gullible landlord.

Bad Sister (1931)

A family drama about the troubled daughter (Sidney Fox) of a respected local merchant (Charles Winninger) who ditches her doctor boyfriend (Conrad Nagel) for a slick conman, and ends up getting her father involved in his fraudulent investment scheme. The cast includes a young Humphrey Bogart as the conman, and Bette Davis as the other sister. From Booth Tarkington's 1913 story "The Flirt".

Murder is My Beat (1955)

A detective, investigating the murder of a businessman, becomes obsessed with the showgirl accused of the killing. After she is convicted, the detective becomes convinced of her innocence and goes rogue in order to clear her name, plunging himself further in to a web of mystery and danger, and navigating a series of twists and turns to bring the real killer to justice.

Edgar G. Ulmer finds the poetry in the film's low-budget, B-level trappings, and tragic star Barbara Payton has her final role as the showgirl accused of murder. Loved the location shots of the cheap motel at night -- really evocative of a certain atmosphere.

Rich Man's Folly (1931)

A solid melodrama, based on Dickens' "Dombey and Son", about a shipbuilder whose obsession with having a son to carry on the family business pushes away his daughter and puts a terrible strain on the son's health, ultimately leading to tragic consequences.

I love stories about the sea and the shipping business, so I was instantly drawn in to this one. The plot is high melodrama, with the family dynamics enhanced by George Bancroft's forceful performance as the father, and Frances Dee as the estranged daughter who eventually finds the love and affection she has been missing with a rival shipbuilder.

The location photography, taken at a Massachusetts shipyard, adds a great deal of authenticity and detail, particularly effective in the film's climactic scene.

Helen's Babies (1924)

Harry Burton (Edward Everett Horton) is the author of a popular book on modern child-rearing methods, who is called on to babysit his two nieces (Baby Peggy and Jean Carpenter). The problem is, Uncle Harry is a life-long bachelor and, in fact, knows nothing about raising children, so chaos predictably ensues.

This was the first of the Baby Peggy films I've seen, and I can see why she was such a big star in the early '20s. She has an undeniable screen presence and is fascinating to watch, commanding attention as she goes through extended bits of business such as trying to fit a bunch of celluloid collars back in to their box or trying to retrieve her doll dangling precariously from a tree branch

It's also fun to watch Edward Everett Horton in a silent film, knowing his distinctive voice and mannerisms that made him such a reliable and welcome presence in so many comedies of the 1930s. Based on the popular 1876 book by John Habberton.

Lonesome (1928)

A poetic city symphony and romantic drama directed by Hungarian filmmaker Paul Fejos, who was one of the European emigres who found a home at Universal Pictures at the end of the '20s. The film takes place in New York, and is a narrative exploration of urban alienation and the oppressive effects of modernity. Fejos focuses on a young man and woman -- he a factory worker, she a switchboard operator -- both of whom are individually ditched by their friends and each of whom decide to head to Coney Island for the night, where they meet and fall in love amid the bustling throng.

The majority of the film (which in total runs just over an hour) is set at Coney Island. As the boy and girl find companionship with each other, the overbearing intensity of Coney Island threatens to separate them physically. Fejos overloads every frame with hundreds of extras, tons of confetti, balloons, and other decorations. The camera never stops moving. It's really a dizzying experience. Fejos certainly captures the frantic pace of modern life in a big city, and the sense of alienation.

It's a great representation of several things going on in late silent era. It contains a strong mix of elements from the New York-set Hollywood films of that era, as well as the City Symphonies. The plot really is a trifle, and while I could accept it as a kind of "anytime, anyplace, anyone" parable, too much time is spent on the romance for me to accept it solely as a kind of metaphorical stand-in for universal experiences. But, it still has a charm and energy to it that makes a strong impression.

The King of the Movies: Film Pioneer Siegmund Lubin

There is so much more to the story of the early American film industry than the Edison-to-Porter-to-Griffith trajectory that gets passed down in the textbooks. Joseph P. Eckhardt fills in some more of those gaps with his book "The King of the Movies", which chronicles the life and career of motion picture pioneer Siegmund Lubin (1851-1923), a Jewish German immigrant who settled in Philadelphia, setting up shop first as an optometrist and then as an all-around film producer-distributor-showman.

Lubin was one of Edison's opponents in the patent wars of the wild and woolly early days of the picture business, gaining a reputation as film pirate for illegally duping and distributing films by other producers including Georges Melies. Although Lubin later joined forces with Edison in the Motion Picture Patents Company, he struggled to be fully accepted by Edison and the other members of the group. Lubin remained something of an outsider in the film industry throughout his career, fiercely independent and stubborn by the same turn. Lubin's critics attacked the poor quality of his original productions, which were often seen to be lacking in the acting and production values of his peers, but Lubin plowed forward with production at his main base in Philadelphia, dubbed "Lubinville".

Philadelphia would remain the central hub of Lubin's cinematic empire, even as he expanded his operations, maintaining production units in different regions throughout the US including Los Angeles and Jacksonville. In addition to his role as a producer and distributor, Lubin also moved in to exhibition, opening a chain of theaters in cities across the country. An interesting story involves Lubin helping out independent producers Sam Goldwyn, Jesse Lasky, and Cecil B. DeMille when they ran in to trouble with their inaugural production, THE SQUAW MAN, due to a technical error in the printing process. Lubin -- himself a member of the Patents Trust -- covertly aided the rival independents by devising a solution to their problem and rescuing them from personal and professional ruin. Even after joining the establishment, Lubin was still something of a maverick at heart.

Lubin would remain a major player in the industry throughout the first half of the 1910s, but changes in the industry, including those brought about by the first World War, lead to his studio closing by 1917, ending his reign as one of the important pioneers of the American film business. Little of Lubin's output survives today, as most of his films were destroyed in a horrific studio fire in 1914, thus making evaluation of his work difficult. Lubin would return to his optometry business in the final years of his life prior to his death in 1923.

Eckhardt has written an extensively-researched portrait of Lubin as a visionary who saw seemingly endless possibilities in the infant medium of motion pictures, and further expands the historical record of the formative years of the American film industry.

Col. William N. Selig: The Man Who Invented Hollywood

Too many film histories relegate the name of William Selig to a mere footnote, if he is mentioned at all. If one thing is clear, it's that the more you study film history, the more you realize there is yet to be explored.

Andrew Erish's book is an impressively-researched work that fills in many gaps in the traditional histories of the early film business, and in doing so, serves nearly as much as a history of the fledgling American film industry as it does as a biography of a major film pioneer. Selig was responsible for a number of important steps in the transition of filmmaking into a full-fledged industry. He was making films almost from the very beginning, in 1896. Originally based in Chicago, the filmmaking activities of his Selig Polyscope Company eventually expanded to Los Angeles, where he established Southern California's first permanent film studio in 1909, as well as his famous Selig Zoo. Selig also pioneered popular film genres and forms (particularly the serial) and helped establish such stars as Tom Mix and Fatty Arbuckle.

Unfortunately, most of Selig's films are lost, making re-evaluation of his work difficult, and unfairly consigning his name to relative obscurity -- not helped by the fact that he is also somewhat awkwardly positioned between the earliest inventors of cinema (Edison, Lumiere) and the next generation of moguls who often receive credit for many of Selig's contributions to the cinema.

This book is a major work that provides a much-needed re-evaluation of those contributions made by Selig, as well as painting a more complete picture of the development of the American film industry.

Suddenly (1954)

This is an excellent -- and offbeat -- crime drama. I had been looking for a movie to watch and was browsing through the selection on the Film Noir Central app on Roku late last Saturday night. I came across SUDDENLY, which is a film I've been meaning to see for quite a while, intrigued by the casting of Frank Sinatra and Sterling Hayden (who I'd actually forgotten was in the film until the opening credits rolled). It was made at the height of Hayden's career as a leading man in such great Film Noir pictures as THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950) and THE KILLING (1956), and of course, Sinatra was coming right off his Oscar win for FROM HERE TO ETERNITY (1953), so this seemed like a unique chance to see two great stars working together at the top of their game.

This is one of those public domain movies that turns up on countless collections of Film Noir and crime dramas, and because of its stars, is also a familiar title on numerous Hollywood Classic collections of PD films, the kinds of collections that permeated the discount sections at stores like Best Buy or Walmart during the golden age of DVD.

Now, many of these titles have jumped over to streaming, and I'm beginning to catch up with quite a few that I'd just never gotten around to watching before on those giant DVD collections. So when SUDDENLY popped up in the queue, I decided it was time to check it out. I was in the mood for a dark thriller and something not too long, given how late I was starting the movie -- so this film, with its tight 75 minute running time, fit the bill perfectly.

Kim Charney as Peter Benson III and Sterling Hayden as Sheriff Tod Shaw
in SUDDENLY (1954)

Sterling Hayden stars as the sheriff, Tod Shaw, of a small town called Suddenly. It's the type of town where the sheriff knows everybody, and keeps an eye out for any suspicious strangers passing through. Shaw is romantically interested in Ellen Benson, a young widow living with her son Peter, and her father, a retired secret service agent (played with just the right touch by that great character actor James Gleason). Peter takes a liking to the sheriff, whom he sees as a father figure, but Ellen is resistant to Tod's advances, and admonishes him for buying her son a toy gun, which she doesn't want him playing with.

It seems like a pretty ordinary day in Suddenly, when the word comes over the wire that the town is due for an unexpected visit by a most extraordinary guest -- the President of the United States. But there is no time for celebration. The notice is given confidentially that Shaw must work with his local law enforcement as well as members of the Secret Service to ensure that the area surrounding the train station is secure.

Meanwhile, at the Benson home up on the hill overlooking the station, three men including John Baron (Sinatra) show up and introduce themselves as members of the FBI, alerting the family to the news of the President's pending visit, and -- because of the house's direct proximity to the station -- put the house on security lockdown until the visit is over.

It quickly becomes apparent, however, that the men are not who they say they are. Baron is, in fact, a psychotic war vet who has been trained as a killing machine, and now intends to put his training to use on taking out the President. Any hopes of Shaw and the Secret Service agent foiling the plot are dashed when both men come to the house as part of their security routine, and are taken hostage along with the family.

Over the course of the film, the tension builds greatly as the hour of the President's visit draws near. Adding to the dramatic effect is the exploration of Baron's twisted psychological state, and how he views this job just like any other hit that he has been paid to carry out. Ellen Benson comes to recognize Shaw's true bravery and heroic qualities, and young Peter learns the great responsibility and power that come with using a firearm. The recurring use of the clock, counting down the time until the arrival of the train and the expected showdown, reminded me of HIGH NOON (1952), in which the ever-present clocks reminded us of Sheriff Gary Cooper's pending confrontation with the outlaws who are coming in to town by train. SUDDENLY uses the element of time to create a similarly tense and suspenseful mood throughout.

I could watch Sterling Hayden in just about anything -- he's one of those great stars who is always fascinating to watch. Here, he is in the unique position of not being given a great deal of action or dialogue, but his strong screen presence keeps him central to the viewer's attention throughout.

The real standout, though, is Sinatra. He proves once again what a truly great actor he was. This is the kind of role that, in many ways, is a difficult one to play -- especially for a star of his magnitude and popularity -- because it is an almost entirely unsympathetic one. Even though the psychological aspects of his character are explored, we're never asked to pity Baron -- it's made clear that he has been transformed into a heartless, cold-blooded killer who views murder as a job. It's a bold role for a pop music star and recent Oscar winner like Sinatra to take, but it also demonstrates his versatility and talent in taking on challenging new roles, rather than resting on his laurels.

Frank Sinatra as John Baron in SUDDENLY (1954)

The curious thing about SUDDENLY is that -- for the top-tier talent involved -- it appears to have a been a pretty low-budget production. It was produced by a company called Libra Productions, and released by United Artists. The action is confined largely to the Benson house, with some location exteriors of the train station and town grocery store. The film's director, Lewis Allen, worked primarily in television, which is evident in his economic choice of shots and staging here. The music score is by David Raksin, one of the top film score composers of this era, especially with the hit theme song from the 1944 Film Noir classic LAURA.

The explosive subject matter of SUDDENLY proved, tragically, to be a little too prescient, and the film was withdrawn from circulation following the Kennedy assassination in 1963, which also resulted in its eventually slipping into the public domain (a similar fate befell Sinatra's later film THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE, dealing with the same subject, but that film remained under copyright and was re-released to great acclaim in the late 1980s, while SUDDENLY has remained relatively obscure). As with many films in the public domain, its lack of copyright status has meant that it often circulates in inferior copies and has not benefited from the care and preservation that it deserves. The upside to this situation is that SUDDENLY can be freely shown and, as mentioned above, it frequently turns up in collections of classic films, waiting to be discovered by new generations of movie fans.

There's so much to recommend SUDDENLY, from its tense script and gripping suspense, to its great acting turns by stars Frank Sinatra and Sterling Hayden. It packs a lot in to its 75 minute running time and is a great example of lean, economic but powerfully effective film making.

A Guy Named Joe (1943)

Beautifully-made romantic drama about a fighter pilot (Spencer Tracy) who dies in combat and returns as a spiritual guide to a young aviator who happens to fall in love with the woman whom Tracy left behind. Directed with real sincerity and understated but powerful emotion by Victor Fleming. Tracy never hits a false note in his performance and the entire film works in large part thanks to his masterful skill.

Annie Oakley (1935)

Barbara Stanwyck as ANNIE OAKLEY (1935)

The life of sharpshooter Annie Oakley is an interesting subject for a biopic, although it's made routine and predictable with the fictionalized, imposed romance plot that drives this picture. Barbara Stanwyck is excellent in the title role, however, and brings the right mix of charm and energy to the film that helps carry it through its dull moments. The supporting cast includes Preston Foster as her sharpshooter lover, Melvyn Douglas as the "other man", and Moroni Olsen in a colorful performance as Buffalo Bill.

It's in the Bag (1945)

Adapted from Ilf and Petrov's story about a fortune hidden inside one of a set of chairs. Fred Allen is a flea circus owner who comes in to a fortune -- but he has to find it first, and sets out on a mad hunt through New York City to locate the chair containing the money. Typical of Allen's acerbic, absurdist style of comedy. Contains fun cameos including his old radio rival Jack Benny.

My Ebook "Return to the Kingdom of Shadows" is Now Available

I realize that things have been pretty quiet on this blog for the past few months. That's because I've been working on putting together my first ebook, "Return to the Kingdom of Shadows", a collection of my writing on film that I have done over the years from this blog and other outlets that I have written for. After almost 15 years of writing about film online, I decided it was time to collect a selection of my favorite writings in one place.

This book is a celebration of cinema, from the earliest experiments of Edison and the Lumiere Brothers, to the independent cinema of today. Among the pieces collected in this book are selected film reviews, essays and articles I have written for various online outlets over the years, as well as this blog. With an eye toward both film history and the new directions in which the art of cinema is continually evolving, this book is a tribute to some of my favorite films -- movies that continue to inspire and entertain.

The ebook can be purchased at Lulu, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, and Kobo.

I was recently interviewed by Zekefilm about my book, in which I talk about the importance of early film, studying film history, and the significance of the book's title. You can listen to the interview here.

20,000 Years in Sing Sing (1932)

In the early ‘30s, the Warner Bros. studio was establishing itself as Hollywood’s premier place for hard-edged, social realist dramas that reflected the conditions and attitudes of Depression-era America. Among these films to emerge from Warner Bros. in this period were Wild Boys of the Road, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, Black Fury, and The Petrified Forest. In addition, the Depression-era wish fulfillment of the gangster films, most famously Little Caesar and The Public Enemy, and the backstage musicals of Busby Berkeley, including 42nd Street, Gold Diggers of 1933 and Footlight Parade, continued in this tradition of dealing with the social issues facing the nation during the Depression at the studio presided over by the pro-Roosevelt, pro-New Deal movie mogul Jack L. Warner.

Out of this milieu came 20,000 Years in Sing Sing, in 1932, a tough pre-Code drama starring Spencer Tracy and Bette Davis in their only picture together. The screenplay was based on the novel of the same name by Warden Lewis E. Lawes. It tells the story of a high-profile, big-time New York criminal (Tracy) who is handed a stiff sentence and sent up the river. His experiences in prison are much tougher than expected, although he gradually comes to respect the stern but benevolent warden. When Tracy learns that his sweetheart, Fay (Bette Davis) is in critical condition and may not have long to live, the warden allows Tracy to take leave from the prison on the honor system and go visit Fay so that they can spend their final hours together. The situation becomes complicated when Tracy learns that it was his friend, Finn (Louis Calhern), who was responsible for his Fay’s injuries, and has plans to double-cross him.

20,000 Years in Sing Sing is stylishly directed by Michael Curtiz, who made so many pictures for Warner Bros. during the ‘30s and really had a chance to hone his craft on film after film. Here, he makes a series of interesting choices that leave an indelible impression, such as prototypical-Noirish use of shadows created by the prison bars, which create a claustrophobic and imposing effect. Another brilliant choice is the use of on-screen text, superimposed above each of the prisoners marching through the prison,indicating the number of years for which they have been sentenced. This device creates a harrowing effect by highlighting the amount of time that these men will be spending behind bars. As a result of Curtiz’s expert direction, the taut and economic storytelling and crackerjack plotting, there is not an ounce of fat on the film, not a single wasted shot or unnecessary moment.

This film offers two early starring roles for Spencer Tracy and Bette Davis, who demonstrate a remarkable chemistry together. Tracy has an excellent opportunity here to display the kind of gentle, noble qualities that he would bring to all of his screen work. He has a remarkable ability to convey so much through his expressions. His subtle and understated performance achieves a totality of tone and characterization. Davis brings just the right mix of innocence and tragedy to her role as the girl Tracy loves and had to leave behind, and it’s easy to see the qualities in her performance here that would quickly make her a top star at Warner Bros.

20,000 Years in Sing Sing is a great example of the gritty, socially-conscious films that Warner Bros. specialized in during the ‘30s. The time was definitely right for this type of film, with the nation embroiled in the depths of the Depression, of economic hopelessness and despair. Although things would soon begin to look up thanks to FDR and his New Deal, films like 20,000 Years in Sing Sing accurately captured the mood and concerns of a nation when it was at one of its all-time low points.

Moby Dick (1930)

Second version of Herman Melville's classic novel, and the second to star John Barrymore. The story had previously been filmed in 1926 as THE SEA BEAST, also starring Barrymore as Captain Ahab.

This version makes the hunt for the whale largely a minor point, instead focusing on a romance between Barrymore and a very young Joan Bennett, and adding a rivalry between Ahab and his brother over the girl's affection. And the whole story is reduced to a 77 minute film.

There is some impressive early process photography, and what had to be some pretty expensive model work with a large-scale, submersible replica of the whale. At the climax, the maniacal Ahab scurries over the back of the whale and repeatedly jams his harpoon into it, until there is a geyser of blood shooting out and spraying all over him.

 But overall, it is a good case for preferring a "faithful adaptation" -- instead of taking such a fascinating, epic story and making it into something utterly mundane.

Main Street After Dark (1945)

A family of pickpockets (including Dan Duryea and Audrey Totter) in a small port city is targeting sailors on leave, and detective Edward Arnold leads a task force with local police to bring their operation down. More of a noticeably low-budget movie than one might expect from MGM at this time, though with a good cast and some nice art direction. With its procedural format and concluding narration, it feels like a feature-length version of one of the studio's "Crime Does Not Pay" short subjects. I do enjoy movies with this kind of dark, WWII-era atmosphere.

The Merry Widow (1934)

High-class, glossy adaptation of the Lehar operetta directed with typically brilliant style by Ernst Lubitsch. The plot itself is a confectionery trifle but Lubitsch elevates it to the level of high art with his brilliant guiding hand, and the full resources of the mighty MGM behind him. Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald are utterly charming as Danilo and Sonia, and there are many welcome appearances from such familiar faces as Edward Everett Horton, Una Merkel, George Barbier, Minna Gombell, Donald Meek and a host of other fine players.

The Dawn Patrol (1930)

Stirring action-adventure drama of the air, about the experiences of a group of British WWI aviators and the impossibly dangerous missions they must risk their lives for. Richard Barthelmess and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. are the two close friends and fellow aviators whose friendship is tested after Barthelmess is promoted to flight commander and sends Fairbanks' kid brother off on a mission from which he never returns. 

Hawks's direction keeps the pace tight and his masterful handling of the action scenes is filled with vigor and delivers some real thrills. The aerial battle scenes are some of the best of their kind ever filmed. 

AKA Flight Commander

The Wind (1928)

One of those glorious silent films that I was introduced to through Kevin Brownlow and David Gill's HOLLYWOOD series years ago.

Lillian Gish stars in one of her most stunning and brilliant performances as Letty Mason, a young woman from Virginia who travels west to live with an old family friend and finds herself plunged in to the wild, untamed landscape of the prairie with its relentless, driving, howling winds. The wind threatens to slowly drive Letty mad as she struggles to adapt and survive in this harsh new environment and to come to terms with her feelings about the man she has married.

This merciless, unforgiving environment becomes a character in its own right. Exterior scenes were filmed on location under extremely difficult conditions of sweltering heat and wind provided by a bank of airplane propellers. Gish oversaw every aspect of the film, choosing the great Swedish director Victor Sjostrom to helm the production, and acclaimed Swedish star Lars Hanson as her leading man.

One of the truly great American silent films. See the Photoplay restoration with an inspired score by Carl Davis.

Directed by Victor Sjostrom. Written by Frances Marion from the novel by Dorothy Scarborough. Photographed by John Arnold. Released by MGM, 1928. With Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson, Montagu Love

Stan and Ollie (2019)

Saw the wonderful STAN AND OLLIE today. It really captures the warm spirit of their comedy through the fine performances of Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly.

I loved the re-creations of scenes from their films and music hall tours, which had me laughing harder than anything I've seen in theaters for a long time.

Some of the imposed dramatic conflict feels forced and a little too convenient, but this is a minor criticism.

The films of Laurel and Hardy mean more to me than any others, and I thoroughly enjoyed this loving and affectionate tribute to the team. It will bring up a lot of great memories for long-time Laurel and Hardy fans and hopefully help introduce some new viewers to their timeless comedy.

Pearl White

One of the first major stars of the American cinema when the film industry was still based on Fort Lee, NJ. She became an internationally-famous star in over 200 films and established her legacy as an American film pioneer and a true immortal of the silver screen, all without ever setting foot in Hollywood.

She starred in many serials including The Perils of Pauline (1914), The Exploits of Elaine (1914-1915), The New Exploits of Elaine (1915), The Romance of Elaine (1915), The Iron Claw (1916), Pearl of the Army (1916-1917), The Fatal Ring (1917), The House of Hate (1918), The Lightening Raider (1919) and The Black Secret (1919-1920).

Following her successful screen career in America, White re-located to Paris, acting on stage & film and investing in resorts, casinos and real estate. After becoming involved with Greek businessman Theodore Cossika, the two moved to Cairo and spent much time traveling through Asia and the Middle East. Rumors of a screen comeback never materialized, likely due in part due to failing health, as she passed in 1938 at the age of 49.

Her starring role in the iconic Perils of Pauline and her status as one of the world's first internationally-famous movie stars cemented her legacy as one of the true immortals of the silver screen.

They Shall Not Grow Old (2018)

I managed to find a theater yesterday that still had available seats for Peter Jackson's WWI documentary THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD. It was being presented as a special event, in select cinemas with a limited number of showtimes, and every theater I checked was sold out. I finally managed to find one, over an hour away, that had seats available. I'm glad I made the effort, because THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD is possibly the best film I've seen this year...certainly the most powerful.

The story behind this is that the Imperial War Museum commissioned Jackson (who is a huge WWI history buff) to make a documentary culled from their more than 100 hours of archival footage and 600 hours of interviews with British veterans.

They give him carte blanche to use whatever he wanted, however he wanted, and to tell whatever story about the war he wanted. Their only stipulation was that he had to use the footage in some unique or original way.

His solution was to use the footage as the starting off point to create a totally immersive experience that would put the viewer straight into history. He used state-of-the-art technology to stabilize, restore, and even colorize the footage, and added sound made up of new recordings of authentic artillery (again, culled from his personal collection of vintage WWI artillery) and hiring lip readers to translate visible on-screen speaking, which was then dubbed by English actors in the correct regional accents based on where the regiment hailed from.

Aside from the occasional dubbing, he made the decision not to use any narrator or historian voice over, and instead to use only the interview audio of actual veterans.

What an amazing film, capturing the experiences of WWI and told by the men who lived them. What Jackson does with the archival materials immerses you right into history.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

This is a great collection of Western Tall Tales, as only the Coen brothers could tell them. There are no other directors working today with their obvious love of storytelling for its own sake. Here, they've crafted six unique stories set in a mythical version of the Old West, tied together by their exploration of the theme of death, ranging from the comic ("The Ballad of Buster Scruggs") to the ironic ("The Gal Who Got Rattled") to the downright morbid ("Meal Ticket"). 

The Coens have an incredible gift for creating richly-drawn characters, and these stories are populated by the types who are the stuff of Western legend, acted by a talented cast including Tim Blake Nelson, James Franco, Stephen Root, Liam Neeson, Harry Melling, Zoe Kazan, Tom Waits, Tyne Daily, and Saul Rubinek, among others. 

Visually, the film is stunning, with breathtaking cinematography by Bruno Delbonnel rendering the sprawling scale of the Western landscapes with painterly detail. There are some shots, particularly in the segment "All Gold Canyon", that are so rich that the images seem to pop right off the screen, aided by vibrant color that recalls the lush tones of the classic Hollywood Westerns of the 1950s. Also harking back to the classic Westerns is the rousing score by Carter Burwell, which perfectly evokes the majesty and epic qualities of the West.

There is some unevenness between the stories, which is understandable given that the project was initially commissioned by Netflix as a series. At some point, the decision was made to bring all of the segments together to create an anthology film, a kind of cinematic storybook. This approach works well enough, with each story given its own chapter in an on-screen book with accompanying illustrations to represent each tale. At a total running time of almost two-and-a-quarter hours, the segments could also be enjoyed individually, just as one might read a collection of short stories.

The Mule (2018)

I have not seen a new Clint Eastwood film since his last starring vehicle, GRAN TORINO, back in 2009. Almost a decade later comes his return as a star in this drama about a 90-year-old man who has fallen on hard times due to the economic collapse, and becomes a drug runner for a cartel in order to earn some cash.

If this plot sounds a bit far-fetched, keep in mind it was based on a true story that appeared in a NY Times Magazine article, so Eastwood's choice of this role is not entirely an exercise in vanity. It's just unfortunate, as is often the case with Hollywood films, that this incident, which reflects the difficulty of our times and the lengths that desperate people will go to in order to survive, is whittled down to its most trite, cliched, and predictable elements in the name of good storytelling.

The premise is that Eastwood has been an absent husband and father (missing seemingly every milestone in his family's lives) due to his passion for horticulture. It's never really explored at all why he couldn't find room for both in his life, or whether his love of horticulture was a stand-in for an inability to love and connect with those closest to him.

It is his fractured relationship with his family that sets the plot in motion, in one of the film's many highly-contrived scenes. Showing up at his granddaughter's engagement party, an argument erupts when his ex-wife and daughter find out he has been invited. Before he leaves, one of the guests -- a young man with family connections to a drug cartel -- senses that Eastwood is in financial trouble, and tells him of an opportunity to earn some money as a "mule", driving drug shipments for a cartel. Next thing you know, Eastwood is pulling into the garage that the dealers operate out of (in broad daylight, in what appears to be the middle of a busy suburban commercial area), in order to pick up his first load.

Everything goes well. A little too well, in fact, because eventually, Eastwood attracts the attention and respect of the cartel leader (who even brings him to his estate in Mexico for a big celebration). The problems begin when the cartel leader is assassinated, and Eastwood's new "handlers" have no patience for his rogue methods. On top of which, the FBI has been following these developments, and is zeroing in on their target and getting ready to drop the net.

These kinds of plot developments are typical of the film's problems, that rather than letting any situations develop at their own pace, every scene feels shoehorned to serve the narrative, and the growing implausibilities of the situations work against any kind of investment in the material. One aspect of Eastwood's character, never really explored, has him revealing his casual racism and sexism, and imply that perhaps his character is growing based on his interactions with different kinds of people for the first time.

However, some of these situations, such as his encounter with a black family stranded on the side of the road during one of his many trips, strain credibility that he could be quite so out-of-touch. As a result, his interaction with them feels false and hollow, there only to serve the purpose of some vague "character development" that comes from nowhere and goes nowhere. (Also straining credibility are two scenes in which Eastwood's character engages in threesomes with women who appear to be a quarter of his age).

Still, Eastwood's sincere affection for his working-class characters is rare in American cinema. There is an interesting moment when he attends his granddaughter's graduation ceremony, but she is graduating from a cosmetics school rather than a university (in Hollywood, everyone seems to graduate from either Harvard or Yale). This fact is presented entirely without comment, and it's refreshing to see the pride and accomplishment of the graduates as they walk up to collect their certificates rather than being treated like a punchline. Similarly, a scene where Eastwood has paid for the renovation of the VFW hall for his fellow veterans and they come together in celebration, is touching.

That seems to be the central issue in THE MULE. Eastwood uses the severe economic plight of 2010s America as a backdrop for this Robin Hood story of a man who will do anything to provide for himself and set things right with his family, but does seem to be interested in the bigger picture of how conditions got to this point in the first place.

The Other Side of the Wind (2018)

I've been meaning to write my thoughts down on this really remarkable film, which I saw on Netflix when it premiered back on November 2 of this year. It is a film that I feel I would need to re-visit in order to catch everything that is going on it, but I wanted to record these initial impressions before the end of the year.

It's very much a film of its moment (it's an evocative snapshot of Hollywood circa 1970 -- with cameos by the likes of Claude Chabrol, Dennis Hopper, Paul Mazursky, Henry Jaglom, and others), but also incredibly fresh and vibrant. It was also very "experimental" for Welles, I thought -- there were some psychedelic fantasy sequences that were absolutely mind-blowing, particularly in the film-within-a-film starring Oja Kodar. There were moments reminiscent of what Welles does in THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI. It was also very Altmanesque in terms of how Welles uses the ensemble cast converging on one location. Welles uses some familiar faces to great effect, fine character actors like Edmond O'Brien, Paul Stewart, Cameron Mitchell, Mercedes McCambridge, Lilli Palmer and, in one of the film's real revelations, an incredibly poignant performance by Norman Foster as the aging producer.

John Huston plays a hard-living, hard-drinking macho director of the old school, who is making a new film to demonstrate how "with it" he is in the Hollywood of the early '70s. The implication, revealed throughout the course of the film, is that Huston may be attracted to the handsome young male star of his film, and deals with Huston's frustration and resentment at being rebuffed by the young star, who walks off the picture and declines to attend Huston's 70th birthday party. Also explored is the relationship between Huston and a film critic-turned-successful director (played by Peter Bogdanovich), whose own success in this New Hollywood has surpassed that of his aging mentor, resulting in some very complicated frictions between the two of them (especially when Huston is forced to ask him for money to help complete his film).

Guiding some of these character dynamics is a female critic modeled on Kael, brilliantly played by Susan Strasberg. The men denigrate and deride her, but she sees past their macho posturings.

 I've been thinking about the film ever since I watched it, and it's remarkable just how layered and complex it is. Even more remarkable is how well all the threads come together for a film that was in limbo for so long.

Cleo Madison

Cleo Madison (1883-1964), pioneering film actress, screenwriter, producer, and director of 16 shorts and two features for Universal Pictures in 1915-16.

 Key films include Her Defiance (1916), Eleanor's Catch (1916), and Triumph of Truth (1916).

Lule Warrenton

Pioneering filmmaker and actress Lule Warrenton (1862-1932) -- after a career on the stage, she began directing for Universal in 1916 where she had her own studio and gained a reputation as a strong director of children's films. She worked for Universal from 1913-1917 as both a director and actress (including several films with director Cleo Madison), and had a brief stint as an independent filmmaker before returning to acting at Universal. Warrenton left Universal in 1922 to join the San Diego Conservatory of Music and reportedly organized an all-female film company in San Diego.

Her son, Gilbert Warrenton, became one of Universal's top cameramen in the 1920s.

Key Films: PIE, WHEN LITTLE LINDY SANG, US KIDS (1916), THE VALLEY OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS, A BIT O' HEAVEN (1917)

Ernestine Jones in WHEN LITTLE LINDY SANG (1916)

Film Review: Brotherhood of the Popcorn (2015)

Brotherhood of the Popcorn (2015) is a nostalgic, touching, and often warmly humorous portrait of "The Cliffhangers", a group of senior citizen film buffs who meet twice a month to screen their favorite classic films -- especially serials, Westerns and Film Noirs. A lively and entertaining documentary about a group of film buffs and their love of cinema, it has all the elements of a good film itself.

The film conveys the real sense of friendship that exists between the members of "The Clffhangers" themselves: Woody Wise, Eric Harrison, Bill Exter, Rocky Sportelli, Richard Mottern, Dennis Penna, Jack Tuerk, and Tim Walker. Over the course of the documentary, we learn about each of the men, about their lives and their passions, and what draws each of them to their love of cinema.

Watching how much film means to each of them, and how it has served as a driving force in their friendship over so many years, it is really a testament to cinema's power to convey timeless stories and larger-than-life images that stick in our memories over the years, and how much they mean to us in our lives.

Anyone who loves movies knows that a big part of the fun is watching them with other people and sharing that experience together, and that's why movie buffs will enjoy watching "The Cliffhangers" come together at Woody Wise's house, catching up over donuts and coffee, paging through classic movie magazines and reminiscing about their favorite films and stars, before settling in to Woody's screening room, with its own projector and big screen, and the walls decorated with vintage movie posters. It's hard to think of a better way to enjoy a movie then with your friends in your own private cinema.

Highlights of the documentary include an appearance by the late, great Peter O'Toole at the TCM Film Festival in Hollywood, and a visit to the Lone Pine Film Festival, where Woody Wise volunteers each year as projectionist. This is probably my favorite segment of the film, showing off the unique landscape and breathtaking vistas of the Alabama Hills in the area, which have been used as a filming location in countless Hollywood Westerns over the years. Watching that segment of the film makes me want to visit Lone Pine myself someday!

I should mention that although Brotherhood of the Popcorn was released back in 2015, it took me a while to catch up with this film. I'm glad that I finally did. I rented it to stream on Vimeo a few months ago and recently found myself wanting to watch it again. It still captivates on repeat viewings.

Ultimately, Brotherhood of the Popcorn succeeds as a beautiful tribute to the magic of movies.

Brotherhood of the Popcorn was produced by Predator Productions, directed by Inda Reid and executive produced by Woody Wise. Visit the official website here. You can buy the movie digitally to stream on Vimeo here.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962): An Appreciation

I wrote this article in November 2015 for a friend's independent film zine in Brooklyn. It is an account of my re-visiting David Lean's film Lawrence of Arabia (1962) in 70mm -- for the eighth time -- at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens, during the summer of 2015.

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On a warm summer night in August, I made the trek out to the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens for what would be my eighth time seeing David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia projected in 70mm. The Museum of the Moving Image was having a festival of 70mm films called “See it Big!” and even after having seen Lawrence seven times previously in that format over the years, I knew that I could not pass up the chance to see it again.

I settled into my seat and as the opening timpani beats of Maurice Jarre's overture rolled out across the theater, I was overcome with a sense of familiarity toward the experience. Even though I was sitting in a theater in Queens in 2015, mentally I was transported back to my very first viewing -- which remains perhaps the single most powerful moviegoing experience of my life.

I had come across Lawrence of Arabia almost by chance in the fall of 2002. I was still living in Maryland, just 18 years old and recently enrolled college. Living only an hour away, I began to get out and explore more of the movie options that Baltimore City had to offer. The Senator showed mostly first-run movies, but occasionally played classics. An historic theater dating from 1939, it remains a beautiful venue and a great place to see movies on the big screen. I saw that Lawrence of Arabia was playing there soon and so I ventured down to the theater to check it out. I had never seen the film before, aside from a few snippets here and there, and I felt that I owed it to myself to see it properly, since it was being shown in 70mm.

I was not prepared for what a totally overwhelming experience it would be. I had never seen a movie that big before, one that seemed to present a larger-than-life world that existed beyond the confines of the screen. As a budding filmmaker, I was in awe of David Lean's direction – in fact, I had difficulty imagining how one man could “direct” such a massive production. I still do, actually. Imagine looking through the viewfinder of the camera and seeing the seemingly endless desert landscapes and thousands of extras! I was so moved by the experience that I went back to see the film four more times during its run, dragging everyone I could get to come along with me to see it.

Flash forward five years to the fall of 2007. By this time I had graduated from film school and started making films of my own. I saw that Lawrence of Arabia would be returning to the Senator, in all its 70mm glory. I ended up going to see it twice during this run, remaining just as overwhelmed by it as I had been the first five times. It was an experience that felt very familiar to me – especially seeing it in the same theater – but this did not lessen the impact film had on me. If anything, it strengthened it and I found myself thinking about how much the film meant to me -- how much it inspired me.

These thoughts ran through my mind as I prepared to see Lawrence of Arabia for the eighth time. A lot had changed in my own life in the eight years since I had last seen the film. I had moved to New York and was working in the distribution end of the film business, while continuing to make my own films. I couldn't help reflecting on all the changes that had occurred in my own life as I listened, with my eyes closed, to the familiar music of the overture booming throughout the theater. As the house lights came down and the curtain opened, I found myself once again drawn into David Lean's masterpiece.

This time, however, it played like a familiar memory rather than the totally overwhelming, visceral experience it had been for me in the past. The film is certainly just as impressive as ever. I don't mean to suggest that my opinion of it has lessened in the intervening years. After all, the film hasn't changed; I have. It's difficult to put my finger on, but perhaps the experience of seeing the film has dulled somewhat due to my familiarity with it. But my reaction did serve to remind me how our circumstances, and the place that we are at in our lives at the time we see a certain movie, can affect our reactions as much as anything about the film itself. I look forward to my next encounter with Lawrence of Arabia at some future date so that I may see how it holds up for me at that point of my life.

One thing is certain: when I do re-visit the film, it will have to wait until I have the opportunity to see it projected in 70mm again. Seeing Lawrence of Arabia in that format remains one of the defining moments of my life, giving me a whole new appreciation for the presentation of movies, and inspiring me in my own work. Even though I own copies of the film on DVD and Blu-ray, it is one movie that I cannot imagine watching anywhere than on the big screen – the way it was meant to be seen. To see it any other way would be like watching a different film.


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Thanks to Ben Hozie for permission to re-print this article here.

Cecil B. DeMille's Film Style

CECIL B. DeMILLE (1881-1959)

One of the true pioneers of the American film industry and the cinema's ultimate showman, Cecil B. DeMille helped put Hollywood on the map with THE SQUAW MAN (1914), pioneered the use of high-contrast lighting in THE CHEAT (1915), played a pivotal role in the founding of Paramount Pictures (and became the studio's first head of production), his THE KING OF KINGS (1927) had -- at one time -- been seen by more people than any other film, and his most famous film, THE TEN COMMANDMENTS (1956) is still run on American TV each year.

DeMille's critics have, at different times, held him up as an emblem of commercial Hollywood filmmaking at its most crass and overblown, whose films may be seen as tacky, vulgar, campy, old-fashioned, theatrical, and so on. And on a personal level he has been criticized for his rough treatment of actors, his right-wing politics during the McCarthy era, and his religious hypocrisy.

But whatever criticisms can be made against DeMille's films, it cannot be denied that he knew how to create great and memorable images.

I was recently going through the flood sequence of Michael Curtiz' DeMille-inspired NOAH'S ARK (1928), trying to find an image I could freeze frame and pull to illustrate my write-up of that movie. As I went through each shot, I could not find a single one that could stand on its own as a great image. Added up, sure, the sequence is impressive enough, but when you begin to look at how it's put together, it becomes clear that Curtiz was throwing a lot of coverage shots together hoping they'd stick. Curtiz could imitate but it never feels like the real thing, never adds up to anything other than an imitation.

DeMille, on the other hand, had a clear vision and purpose for every image that he put into his films. When you look at a sequence like the parting of the Red Sea in THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, you can find numerous images that work on their own, which also add up to create a cohesive and spectacular whole. Many of the criticisms of his work remain perfectly valid, but running throughout that work is a cohesive artistic vision that was all DeMille's own.

Hollywood Party (1934)

This chaotic mess of a film took over a year to complete, with eight directors (including Richard Boleslawki, Allan Dwan, Edmund Goulding, Russell Mack, Chuck Reisner, Roy Rowland, Sam Wood, and George Stevens) taking turns at the helm. Jimmy Durante plays as a Tarzan-like jungle movie star who throws a big party in order to convince Baron Munchausen (Jack Pearl) to let him use his real lions in his next picture and add some real thrills to it for a change. Polly Moran, Charles Butterworth, Eddie Quillan and June Clyde are among the cast who appear in the various scattered threads of the plot, which is peppered with cameos by Robert Young, The Three Stooges, and even Mickey Mouse, in an animated sequence provided by Walt Disney. Incredibly, the whole thing was shot by the great James Wong Howe, whose talents were certainly wasted here.

 Laurel and Hardy steal the picture when they show up toward the end to deliver the lions, and quickly become engaged in an egg-breaking battle of tit-for-tat with Lupe Velez. This sequence, the highlight of the film, was directed by their old cameraman George Stevens, whose masterful handling of comedy is evident in giving Velez and The Boys room to perform the routine without any unnecessary intrusions. It says so much about Laurel and Hardy's incredible gifts for comedy that they could do more with a little scene like this than MGM could with all of its mighty resources poured into the film.

Film vs. Movie

I was recently began teaching a course on the history of film at a local university. A friend asked whether I make a distinction between a “film” and a “movie” when discussing the subject.

I knew what he meant by this: the idea that a “film” is something to be taken seriously, something worthy of being studied, while a “movie” is something essentially disposable, lightweight, for entertainment only.

Thinking for a moment, I replied that, no, I do not make such a distinction, and that, if anything, I take very much the opposite point of view when discussing cinema. Rather than drawing an arbitrary distinction between a so-called serious “film” and a frivolous “movie”, I prefer to take the approach that all films are equally valid, and worth considering on their own terms.

This, of course, is not to argue that all films are equally successful, only that as works of art, they deserve to be viewed and considered on their own terms. A phrase that I often use is, “a movie is a movie”; meaning that, whatever else their individual merits, all of these works are part of the rich tapestry of cinema, and should be allowed to speak for themselves.

To illustrate how detrimental imposing such limiting viewpoints can be, consider the large number of films that were embraced and acclaimed upon their initial release, but have seen their reputations slip in subsequent years, usually due to a shift in the artistic or social values that the film represents. Or alternatively, think about how many films are widely cherished today that may have been ignored or dismissed when they first appeared.

Shifts in critical consensus reflect a change in values, and these shifts ultimately reveal how fleeting such values are.

For Heaven's Sake (1926)

One of Harold Lloyd's more lightweight features (running just under an hour), but also one of his funniest. Lloyd plays a wealthy idler who inadvertently helps a minister save his struggling mission, and quickly becomes invested in his newfound philanthropic venture after falling in love with the minister's daughter.

Though there are plenty of good gags throughout, this plot serves largely as a setup to the impressive chase sequence that occupies nearly the final third of the film. Filled with breakneck stunts, expertly-staged car chases, and enough gags for two or three movies, it's easily one of Lloyd's best set pieces.

In addition to the brilliance of the comedy, one also has to appreciate the brilliance of the filmmaking, especially Walter Lundin's shimmering cinematography. Directed by Sam Taylor. Written by John Grey, Ted Wilde, Clyde Bruckman, and Ralph Spence (titles). With Jobyna Ralston, Noah Young, Paul Weigel, James Mason.

Hail Caesar (2016): A Hollywood Fable

I watched HAIL CAESAR, the most recent theatrical film by the Coen Brothers, again last night, this time on my 100" screen in my basement theater. It's a movie that I fell in love with instantly the first time I saw it, even though it took me a second viewing to really get adjusted to just why I loved it so much.

Released to mixed critical reviews and frequently negative audience response, HAIL CAESAR is, to me, one of the very best of all of the Coen brothers' films, a loving tribute to the magic of movies. The episodic plot follows a day in the life of a harried studio executive, brilliantly played by Josh Brolin, as he struggles to bring to completion the studio's big Biblical epic "Hail Caesar", after its star (George Clooney) has been kidnapped and held for ransom by a group calling itself "The Future", all the while dealing with his stable of eccentric stars and their various personal problems in order to maintain equilibrium behind the scenes of his Dream Factory.

More than most films dealing with the movie industry, HAIL CAESAR explores the religious aspect that movies can play in our lives, and the power that they have to shape our dreams and our vision of ourselves. The film is set in the early 1950s at that moment just when the seams were really beginning to show at the edges of the Movie Capital of the World, and directors like Billy Wilder were beginning to explore the seamy side of Tinseltown in films like SUNSET BLVD. This image of a Hollywood gone to seed has been mined before in films like LA CONFIDENTIAL, HOLLYWOODLAND and even Tim Burton's ED WOOD, but the Coens approach it with a deft combination of lightness and grandeur that beautifully contrasts the tangled web of behind-the-scenes goings-on at the studio, and the projected illusion of fantasy that we continue to believe in.

The brilliance here lies in the fact that the Coens convey this magic through the use of movie archetypes in the characters in situations, and by structuring the film around the production of a biblical epic about an arrogant Roman officer who is blinded by faith after encountering the face of Jesus. By extending the religious metaphor to the power of film itself, the Coens create one of the medium's most insightful commentaries on itself.

Borderline (1950)

A pair of narcotics agents, unaware of each other's identities, go undercover in Mexico to bring down a big-time drug smuggler. A light little crime drama from Universal-International, with lively performances by MacMurray and Trevor as the agents, and a suitably menacing turn by Burr as the smuggler they're after.

Starring Fred MacMurray, Claire Trevor, Raymond Burr. Directed by William A. Seiter. Seen on PizzaFlix 6/1/18.

The Lion's Den: New Independent Comedy from Ben Hozie

My friend and fellow independent filmmaker Ben Hozie has just released his latest film, the "video comedy of errors" THE LION'S DEN, available for free streaming on vimeo. This is a very funny and on-point satire about a group of Staten Island revolutionaries who plan to kidnap a high-power corporate CEO, but instead pick up a low-level accountant by mistake. And that's just the beginning, as the group of radicals begins to devolve into in-fighting and romantic jealousies.

You can learn more about Ben's other film projects at his website, Pretorius Pictures.

Check out THE LION'S DEN here, and support truly independent filmmaking!

Phantom Lady (1944)

PHANTOM LADY is an atmospheric little thriller from Universal in 1944, directed with great visual flourish by Robert Siodmak. The premise is intriguing: a man's wife has been murdered, and the only person who can provide a concrete alibi for his whereabouts at the time -- an unknown female companion wearing a distinctive hat -- has completely vanished into thin air; even the witnesses who remember the man's presence in the bar, in the cab, etc. the night before swear that he was alone. When he is sentenced for his wife's murder, time starts running out to identify the woman and clear the husband's name.

This is the kind of sleek, economical picture the studios could do so well in the '40s, with the pistons firing on all cylinders -- unpretentious yet stylish, with a good cast and a smart script. Franchot Tone delivers a good performance with tongue just enough in cheek to suggest he doesn't take the proceedings too seriously, while Ella Raines and Alan Curtis make an appealing and earnest leading pair. There's a fun nightclub number, too, performed by Aurora Miranda (Carmen's sister). And Elisha Cook Jr. is in top form as a sleazy jive band drummer -- in one scene, he pounds away feverishly at his drumkit, obscenely stroking away so furiously that he appears on the verge of either a heart attack or an orgasm.

D.W. Griffith: Master of Cinema by Ira Gallen

Ira Gallen's study of the early career of D.W. Griffith is one of the finest books on the subject of film published in recent years, and certainly one of the most thorough published about the complex, often contradictory, still controversial man who did more than any other figure to advance the art of film in the medium's formative years.

Gallen, a film & TV historian, collector, and archivist, has done tremendous work in recent years in championing Griffith's legacy, between authoring this book, and editing Seymour Stern's writing on Griffith's still-extremely controversial masterwork, The Birth of a Nation, which must certainly rank as one of the most important contributions to silent film scholarship. (He also has posted a number of videos of Griffith's Biograph shorts on his YouTube channel, contributing a valuable online archive of Griffith's early films.)

D.W. Griffith: Master of Cinema is focused on Griffith's early life and his career in film up through his final year at Biograph. By concentrating his study on this, the most fertile period of Griffith's career, Gallen provides a comprehensive overview of the innovations that the director was making in leaps and bounds during those years. This study, which contains analyses and production histories of key Biograph short subjects, clearly establishes Griffith's contributions to the development of film grammar, without either the hyperbolic and exaggerated claims that have been made in Griffith's favor in the past, or the tendency in recent years to downplay Griffith's contributions in favor of shining a (deserved) light on the achievements of other directors of the period.

The final sections of the book contain details about Griffith's producing arrangement with the Aitken brothers, which resulted in The Birth of a Nation, and a scrapbook of photos from the Biograph company. Gallen also includes commentary on Griffith's legacy from leading film historians such as Kevin Brownlow and Arthur Lennig, and addresses the cowardly and shameful removal of Griffith's name from the DGA's career achievement award in 1999, solely on the basis of the racism of The Birth of a Nation. Sadly, such an act seems somehow appropriate given the film industry's shabby treatment of Griffith during much of his own lifetime as well.

D.W. Griffith: Master of Cinema is a first-rate piece of film scholarship that does justice to the complexity and importance of its subject, and Gallen is to be commended for his in-depth study of this master filmmaker's formative years, which are really the formative years of the art of cinema.

Buy the book at Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dw-griffith-ira-h-gallen/1123134988

Ira Gallen's Website: https://www.tvdays.com/