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Charles Waldron (1874-1946) was a veteran stage and screen actor with an impressive list of acting credits that date back to the early years of the twentieth century. He is virtually unknown today--even by IMDB movie fans and frequent viewers of TCM. Waldron may be best remembered for his very last movie role--completed just before his death at age 71 in 1946. It consisted of just one scene in this version of The Big Sleep (TBS). However that was one of the most memorable scenes in one of the greatest film noir movies ever made. It was the celebrated scene at the beginning of TBS, when Philip Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) first meets General Sternwood (Charles Waldron) in the stifling greenhouse of the latter's decaying mansion. In this one scene, director Howard Hawks sets the stage and establishes the narrative preliminaries that propel TBS from one plot element to the next in one of the most entertaining stories of suspense, adventure and romance ever put on film. Waldron's General Sternwood---aged but articulate and in obvious decline but still in full command--is one of the most unforgettable characters in TBS. Perhaps Waldron's real-life physical condition added a unique sense of reality to his portrayal of the dying man with many regrets but still a tenacious grip on his ebbing life. It is a remarkable acting portrait--one that lingers in the memory of anyone who has ever seen TBS.

As for TBS, there is little to add to the many positive comments posted on the film. The sheer joy the actors must have experienced in making TBS is evident from beginning to end. It is a movie that (like Apocalypse Now) captures that rarest of phenomena---a work of art which successfully illustrates the importance of form over substance. Much has been written about TBS's complex, convoluted and often indecipherable plot that seems to diminish in importance when compared to its witty dialogue, tremendous chemistry between Bogart and Lauren Bacall and clever use of humor and sexuality to offset its occasional violence.

Michael Winner's 1977 version of TBS starring Robert Mitchum as Marlowe is much more linear in its story telling and consequently easier to follow in unraveling the plot's many loose ends and narrative difficulties. It is also less enjoyable to watch, and its characters are less interesting to us to engage with as an audience.

TBS remains almost 80 years after its initial release an unqualified masterpiece. Time has only continued to burnish its reputation as one of the most entertaining films ever made. Charles Waldron's contribution--while less notable than the work of Bogart or Bacall---still constitutes one of TBS's major assets for us to still enjoy after.all these years.

Charles Waldron (1874-1946) was a veteran stage and screen actor with an impressive list of acting credits that date back to the early years of the twentieth century. He is virtually unknown today--even by IMDB movie fans and frequent viewers of TCM. Waldron may be best remembered for his very last movie role--completed just before his death at age 71 in 1946. It consisted of just one scene in the original version of The Big Sleep (TBS). However that was one of the most memorable scenes in one of the greatest film noir movies ever made. It was the celebrated scene at the beginning of TBS, when Philip Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) first meets General Sternwood (Charles Waldron) in the stifling greenhouse of the latter's decaying mansion. In this one scene, director Howard Hawks sets the stage and establishes the narrative preliminaries that propel TBS from one plot element to the next in one of the most entertaining stories of suspense, adventure and romance ever put on film. Waldron's General Sternwood---aged but articulate and in obvious decline but still in full command--is one of the most unforgettable characters in TBS. Perhaps Waldron's real-life physical condition added a unique sense of reality to his portrayal of the dying man with many regrets but still a tenacious grip on his ebbing life. It is a remarkable acting portrait--one that lingers in the memory of anyone who has ever seen TBS.

As for TBS, there is little to add to the many positive comments posted on the film. The sheer joy the actors must have experienced in making TBS is evident from beginning to end. It is a movie that (like Apocalypse Now) captures that rarest of phenomena---a work of art which successfully illustrates the importance of form over substance. Much has been written about TBS's complex, convoluted and often indecipherable plot that seems to diminish in importance when compared to its witty dialogue, tremendous chemistry between Bogart and Lauren Bacall and clever use of humor and sexuality to offset its occasional violence.

Michael Winner's 1977 version of TBS starring Robert Mitchum as Marlowe is much more linear in its story telling and consequently easier to follow in unraveling the plot's many loose ends and narrative difficulties. It is also less enjoyable to watch, and its characters are less interesting to us to engage with as an audience.

TBS remains almost 80 years after its initial release an unqualified masterpiece. Time has only continued to burnish its reputation as one of the most entertaining films ever made. Charles Waldron's contribution--while less notable than the work of Bogart or Bacall---still constitutes one of TBS's major assets for us to still enjoy after.all these years.

Since Our Town (OT) is a much celebrated award winning stage play, it is appropriate to consider the problem always present when such a property is transferred to the screen.

As we all know, the stage is a highly artificial medium in which to depict realistic drama. It is virtually impossible for a stage presentation to tell us a story without at some point requiring us to suspend disbelief. Perhaps if the play involves events happening in real time (like, e.g. Long Day's Journey into Night), some feeling of reality is possible to be felt by the theatrical audience. But in most situations, stage artifice allows creative artists to put on plays where it is quite unimportant for the audience to consider that it is actually watching a drama with abstract scenes substituting for reality. See e.g. Death of a Salesman. This premise works simply because for the most part, stage plays (and more so operas) are generally works that are artificial by their very nature. OT is from its particular essence and structure grounded in abstraction and unreality.

On the other hand, film allows reality to exist in such a way that often the audience believes it to be part of the story. See, e.g. This Is Cinerama. This is particularly true when the story is told in real time. See, e.g. High Noon or Alfred Hitchcock's Rope.

When a play like OT is turned into a movie, it must undergo changes to be integrated successfully with the more realistic medium. That is why Thornton Wilder agreed with the film's proposed ending revision.

The cinematic version of OT is splendid in its own right, and represents a worthy attempt to wed an abstract classic play with an appropriate cinematic presentation. As such, it emerges as a fine work of art that can stand respectably along side its much more famous theatrical predecessor.

Many films were made during the Golden Age of Hollywood about life experienced while working as a medical doctor or nurse. Most of them dealt with the positive challenges, stresses, joys and sense of accomplishment realized in being able to help others to get well and regain their lives. See e.g. Men in White (1934), Arrowsmith (1931), Magnificent Obsession (1935), The Citadel (1938), etc. However, a few went in a very different direction---and depicted the healing professions as often functioning proximate to a criminal world that was dark, corrupt and sometimes quite violent. Night Nurse (NN) is a pre-code drama that fits into the latter category of films. It starred Barbara Stanwyck (in her seventh film), Joan Blondell, Ben Lyon and Clark Gable at the very dawn of their respective movie careers.

In selecting William Wellman to direct NN, Warner Brothers (WB) agreed upon a no-nonsense craftsman who worked quickly and efficiently. In 1931, he helmed five major movies! His films were always interesting, vigorous and fast moving.

Stanwyck was an inspired choice to play the tough-as-nails nurse Lora Hart. Her own difficult childhood and early need to be self-reliant enabled her performance to seem natural and real. At this point in her career, Blondell (like her slightly older fellow WB actress Aline MacMahon) was able to portray the kind of sassy earthiness and spunky sexuality that was quite appealing to Depression audiences. And Ben Lyon was likable in an uncomplicated good guy/bad guy characterization.

The most important actor in NN turned out to be Clark Gable. Not yet the King of Hollywood, he had just completed The. Painted Desert---his very first film---for Pathe Studios (which then went out of business) and had not yet signed his initial two year contract with MGM. He recently failed a screen test with WB to play the second male lead in Little Caesar (the part eventually went to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.), but they decided to offer him the small supporting role of the brutish menacing chauffeur in NN. Gable's Nick was not above beating up women--including Stanwyck's Lora Hart---and he almost seemed to enjoy the experience. Nick was one of those supporting parts that almost jumped off the screen---much like those of George C. Scott in Anatomy of a Murder (1959) and Joseph Wiseman in Viva Zapata! (1952). In The Films of Barbara Stanwyck by Homer Dickens (1984), Stanwyck is reported to have said that "the instant that Clark (Gable) walked onto that set I knew--we all knew---that here was a striking personality. He commanded attention. William Wellman begged Warner Brothers to sign Gable. They would have none of him."

Imagine what might have happened had WB signed Gable to a long term contract in 1931. It would have changed Gable's career and the course of two major Hollywood studios (WB and MGM) in profound ways that are virtually impossible for us to contemplate even to this day!

The film Suzy has something for everybody. It features three major Hollywood performers---two of them (Jean Harlow and Franchot Tone) at the peak of their popularity and fame and one (Cary Grant) just at the ascendancy of his international acclaim as a movie superstar. It reflects the gloss of MGM filmmaking at its apex. Suzy contains the only pairing of Harlow and Grant in a movie. It is derived from an entertaining screenplay-by-committee where the leading writer was Dorothy Parker. Suzy's complex narrative reflects the incorporation of multiple genres--including comedy, musical, family melodrama, spy/espionage, tragedy and wartime aviation action--among others. It reveals one of the rare performances of Cary Grant as an unlikable heel and womanizer as well as a crooner! Suzy is unique!

Suzy was Grant's 23rd film project. In 1937, he would appear in Topper and The Awful Truth. By 1938, he would also star in Bringing Up Baby and Holiday. The Cary Grant character that he slowly created was about to emerge as a fully developed one-of-a-kind phenomenon. Grant would not appear again in a supporting role like that in Suzy until his final film Walk, Don't Run in 1966.

Although she did not know it, Jean Harlow's film career was almost over. She only appeared in three more films, and died on June 7, 1937 at the age of twenty-six. Her sweet and adorable title character in Suzy somewhat captured an adult version of the kind of parts played in the 1930s by the juvenile Shirley Temple. Harlow's sudden and premature death greatly saddened her many fans all over the world.

Franchot Tone presented a character named Terry Moore (where have we heard that name before)? He came to Suzy just after a recent Oscar nomination for Best Actor in Mutiny on the Bounty (1935). Tone had also appeared in the classic Lives of a Bengal Lancer the same year, and would continue to be offered roles in important films like Three Comrades (1938). He remained a popular stage, screen and television actor for the rest of his long career. His intermittent Irish accent used in Suzy was something of an unnecessary distraction, as we all know that regardless of ethnicity---everybody in the movies spoke English!

The presence of stalwart supporting players Lewis Stone, Inez Courtney and Benita Hume greatly contributed to the "gloss" of Suzy. This was the Golden Age of Hollywood---and such performers always added a special quality to the films of this period.

Suzy is like a time capsule from MGM, when it was the most prestigious studio in Hollywood. As they claimed---it had more stars than there were in heaven! We will not see their likes again!

There are many excellent reviews of this masterpiece on IMDB, so I will confine myself to an aspect of the film that is seldom mentioned. We all know of TLADOCB's unusual length (for its time) of 163 minutes. Most movies from the year 1943 usually ran approximately 100 minutes in length and were generally made in a black and white format.

Problems with Blimp began shortly after its initial release. It suffered a fate similar to what happened to the Frank Capra classic Lost Horizon (1937) and the George Cukor-Judy Garland version of A Star Is Born (1954). All three films were longer than usual, and as a result were often re-edited (sometimes severely) upon subsequent re-release. In the case of Lost Horizon and A Star Is Born, the re-editing process resulted in the permanent loss of several key scenes that had to be reconstructed through the use of still photographs to match the surviving sound tracks. These unusually reconstituted versions afford us with the only way these two films may be seen today.

As for Blimp, its fate was much more fortuitous. It was severely cut in various re-releases and adversely affected over the years by color deterioration that necessitated some of these presentations to be made in black and white format. However, the film was successfully restored intact in the 1980s to its original release length---as was its magnificent three-strip Technicolor. We can see Blimp today exactly as it was shown to its original release audiences.

TLADOCB. Is one of those rare masterpieces that perfectly captures an unusual and highly entertaining story, extraordinary cast and splendid presentation. The film moves us today as it did for the first time over 80 years ago. For that we must be grateful to both technology and good luck. Otherwise Blimp might have suffered the fate of Lost Horizon and A Star Is Born. Many thanks!

Svengali and The Mad Genius are the cinematic equivalents of human fraternal twins---they bear some resemblance to each other but are also obviously different. These two early John Barrymore vehicles are the last films he made for Warner Brothers as well as the only movies he shot in 1931.

The two films are extraordinary for their many similarities. Both are derivative versions of the novel Trilby by George Du Maurier; both starred Barrymore and Marian Marsh; both incorporated a screenplay written in whole or in part by J. Grubb Alexander; both used music from an uncredited David Mendoza; both were photographed by Barney McGill; both utilized extraordinary sets designed by Anton Grot; and both employed the talents of supporting actors Luis Alberni and Carmel Myers. In both films, Barrymore adopted heavy makeup and a strong accent to physically capture an obsessive older man who seeks to manipulate and control a beautiful much younger woman. There may have been no two other films in Hollywood history that bore so many resemblances to one another while each was purporting to be an original production. This is astonishing!

Both films were affected by each's decision to cast inexperienced teenager Marian Marsh in the critical leading female role. She tried her very best to keep up with Barrymore, but this was obviously a losing proposition. Barrymore originally sought his then wife Dolores Costello to assume the Trilby role in Svengali. However, her pregnancy put an end to that plan.

These two films gave Barrymore some of the best reviews of his movie career. Nonetheless, they both turned out to be unpopular vehicles for WB---an unfortunate turn of events for his nascent period as an emerging major Hollywood star.

As for Svengali, it is notable for being the recipient of two Oscar nominations (interior decoration and cinematography). The well-known director, Archie Mayo, gave us a film of subtle shading and complexity while at the same time allowing Barrymore to create a character who was at times comical and at other times menacing but often touching and always interesting. It is one of his supreme cinematic achievements. In her first scenes, Marian Marsh appeared in a striking blond page boy wig that is almost identical to the one worn eight years later by Norma Shearer in her classical movie Idiot's Delight (which also co-starred Clark Gable). Svengali also offered an early sound appearance by veteran character actor Donald Crisp (almost unrecognizable in heavy makeup).

Svengali is a splendid film in so many ways, and deserves serious reconsideration by a modern audience. It is a remarkable example of what was possible in the early years of the Golden Age of Hollywood.

The Mad Genius (TMG) and Svengali are the cinematic equivalents of human fraternal twins---they bear some resemblance to each other but are also obviously different. These two early John Barrymore vehicles are the last films he made for Warner Brothers as well as the only movies he shot in 1931.

The two films are remarkable for their many similarities. Both are derivative versions of the novel Trilby by George du Maurier; both starred Barrymore and Marian Marsh; both utilized a screenplay written in whole or in part by J. Grubb Alexander; both were photographed by Barney McGill; both utilized extraordinary sets designed by Anton Grot; and both employed the talents of supporting actors Luis Alberni and Carmel Myers. In both films, Barrymore adopted heavy makeup and a strong accent to physically capture an obsessive, controlling older man who seeks to manipulate young and compliant people. There may be no two other films in Hollywood history that bore so many resemblances to one another while each was purporting to be an original production. This is astonishing!

Both films were handicapped by the decision to cast inexperienced teenager Marian Marsh in the critical leading female role. She tried her very best to keep up with Barrymore, but this was obviously a losing proposition. Barrymore originally sought his then wife Dolores Costello to assume the Trilby role in Svengali. However, her pregnancy put an end to that plan.

These two films gave Barrymore some of the best reviews of his cinematic career. Nonetheless, these movies both turned out to be unpopular vehicles for WB---an unfortunate turn of events for his nascent period as an emerging major Hollywood star.

As for TMG, it was helped by the strong direction of Michael Curtiz and its set and costume designs. However, its script was unworthy of the great effort Barrymore put into his performance. Perhaps the story was just not strong enough to sustain two similar productions in such a short span of time. And what could WB have reasonably expected from this effort? The stock definition of insanity (do the same thing again and expect a different outcome) would certainly have predicted that the second film was likely to be no more of a commercial success than the first one.

TMG is an interesting film in many ways, and deserves serious reconsideration by a modern audience. If you want to see a possible antecedent to the Anton Walbrook character in The Red Shoes or the James Mason portrayal in The Seventh Veil---look no further than what John Barrymore did in TMG!

Generally speaking, there are three reasons why an earlier film is remade: (1) it can be updated through technical enhancement (color v. Black and white or sound v. Silent).; (2) it can be changed through a musical adaptation; and/or (3) the original director wanted to take another stab at the vehicle after reconsidering it at a later stage of his career. In the case of Smilin' Through (ST), it was remade because of reasons (1) and.(2) above. The newer ST was filmed in beautiful Technicolor, and the story was adapted to incorporate several songs pleasantly sung by its female star Jeanette MacDonald.

When ST was being planned, we were at the brink of WWII. The country was soon engulfed by events that would diminish interest in romantic fantasies like ST. There was a period after the war when such films regained popularity. See e.g. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, Sentimental Journey, The Enchanted Cottage, A Matter of Life and Death, etc.). A few pre-war romantic fantasies were successful, but they were the exception (e.g. Here Comes Mr. Jordan).

ST was also affected by its casting decisions. In place of Norma Shearer, Fredric March and Leslie Howard from the 1932 original version, MGM utilized the services of MacDonald, Gene Raymond and Brian Aherne, respectively. In each case, the remake stars did not erase the fond memories of those who played the same roles in the original version. MacDonald at age 40 was probably too old to inject a needed image of youth in her part of Moonyean Clare. Raymond and Aherne were both competent actors, but they seemed to come across as lesser editions of their earlier counterparts. This tended to diminish the fantasy's spell and the narrative's power to move us. I have always believed that an ideal cast to play these roles by MGM contract actors at that time would have consisted of Susan Peters, James Stewart and Robert Taylor.

There is no question that the 1941 ST is a sincere and sometimes touching attempt to retell the classic play written by Jane Cowl and Jane Murfin.. But it was difficult to recapture the charm, freshness and spontaneity that imbued the lovely original version of this timeless tale.

The magic of creative artistry seldom can be successfully recreated no matter the best of intentions. Cf. The musical remakes of Goodbye Mr. Chips and Lost Horizon. But magic requires the suspension of disbelief, and that only happens under unusual circumstances. Still---ST is an honorable effort to make a more contemporary version of a great film from nine years earlier. As such---and taken on its own terms--ST is still a worthy entertainment.

Bed of Roses (BOR) is a pre-code romantic drama that starred Constance Bennett, Joel McCrea, Pert Kelton and John Halliday. It tells a story of two cynical prostitutes, who after graduating from "the school of hard knocks" manage to overcome their difficulties and (in the case of Bennett and McCrea) find true love. It is a classic tale of the travails endured by poor single women in the early years of the Great Depression. There is probably little in BOR that hasn't previously appeared in other films of the period, but here the narrative is supported by an excellent cast of actors working at their prime.

In BOR, Bennett was 29 and still at the peak of her youthful beauty. She could project the tough as nails hardness of a trollop and then move seamlessly into a vulnerable woman in love. It is a tribute to her acting skill that Bennett made both dimensions of her role look honest and believable.

McCrea reinforces his image as another Gary Cooper with a sincere portrayal of an ordinary guy in search of happiness, who has learned from experience to forgive and forget. Actually, McCrea was probably somewhat better than Cooper at roles projecting humor and vulnerability--like his cotton barge captain in BOR.

Kelton is a revelation in BOR at the youthful age of 26, with her wise-cracking sassy Mae West knockoff. She played her"best friend" part in a most charming and engaging way. Those who know Kelton only from her matronly character parts later on (like the mother in The Music Man) will be astonished at just how appealing Kelton was early in her career.

As for Halliday, he could by now play his part of an aging rake easily seduced by Bennett's obvious charms with no difficulty at all. People who know him just from his more mature later serious parts (like Katharine Hepburn's father in The Philadelphia Story) will be pleasantly surprised at how likable Halliday made his character in BOR through the force of sheer acting ability.

BOR is an obscure film that is little known today. It turns up from time to time on TCM. It spins its narrative economically and effectively. Bennett and McCrea had appeared as co-stars in a few prior films, and they worked easily and attractively together. Catch it if you can!

The North Star (TNS), Warner Brothers' Mission to Moscow (1943) and MGM's Song of Russia. (1944) comprise the three most important pro-Soviet films to be made in Hollywood during WWII. Together, they also generated much controversy notwithstanding their alleged best intentions. They remain like antiques--time capsules from the distant past that captured stories defying what most reasonable people would expect to come out of the American film industry.

Of the three films, TNS was probably the most ambitious. It ventured into a rare and difficult genre---by mixing two very different types of stories into one movie with the hope that both would succeed with its audience. This has been attempted many times before---with mixed and often problematic results. See, e.g. Eating Raoul (1982), Something Wild (1986), Little Murders (1971) and Penny Serenade (1941).

In the case of TNS, the first 35 minutes or so pose an extended exposition of happy and bucolic peasant life at a Soviet commune---complete with lots of singing and dancing. It is somewhat unsettling to watch all this because (as we now know) it is essentially fantasy not grounded in reality. Also, all the actors look and sound like the Americans that they are. This further contributes to the unreal quality of TNS's first act and often makes it painful to watch.

The second act of TNS presents us with a highly realistic depiction of the Nazi invasion and occupation of the village, with all its misery, cruelty and hardship. Much of this section is also difficult to sit through, because it is almost too immediate and emotionally draining to take in.

The final portion of TNS documents the villagers fighting back and organizing an anti-Nazi rebellion. It also contains pacifist propaganda that many critics believe is Communist in nature. The script by Lillian Hellman went through extensive revision by other hands--so much so that she is reputed to have said that in its final form, TNS was "a big time, sentimental, badly directed, badly acted mess."

No doubt Hellman may have been thinking about the production problems encountered by Samuel Goldwyn in making TNS. He originally sought director William Wyler and cinematographer Gregg Toland. Both became unavailable because of military service, and Goldwyn settled on stalwarts Lewis Milestone and James Wong Howe, respectively. The young female leading part was to be played by Teresa Wright, who became indisposed because of illness. It was later assumed by Anne Baxter. The young male lead was given to teenager Farley Granger in his first film.

TNS had two of Hollywood's "favorite Nazis" Erich von Stroheim and Martin Kosleck playing German doctors who are not averse to performing medical procedures of unspeakable barbarism. TNS is also distinguished by the presence of two of Hollywood's finest character actors--Walter Brennan and Walter Huston. There is something strange in seeing the reputedly conservative Brennan so deeply involved in a socially liberal production like TNS--but there it is!

Critics were divided on TNS. Many from "the mainstream" spoke positively about the picture, but the Hearst publishing organization savaged the film as "pure Bolshevist propaganda" according to Alvin H. Marill's book Samuel Goldwyn Presents (A. S. Barnes and Co., Inc.1976).

In the end, TNS remains a movie that must be seen and judged in the context of its own time and circumstances. Yes, it is often simplistic, naive and perhaps more fiction than fact. But TNS is always interesting and absorbing---and certainly worthy of your attention. You don't expect a Model T Ford to perform like a current Ford F-150 truck---but there is still a lot to be said about that Model T!

Portmanteau originally referred to a large leather suitcase that would open into two hinged compartments. It was later used to describe a word formed by merging the sounds and meanings of two different words, e.g. Smog from smoke and fog. At some point, the movie industry began using portmanteau to describe a film with two or more parallel stories that shared a common unifying plot element; e.g. Grand Hotel (1932), Tales of Manhattan (1942), The Yellow Rolls Royce (1964), and The Red Violin (1998).

Central Park (CP) is a low budget version of a portmanteau film. It uses the famous city park as the unifying plot device to link several parallel stories into a very brisk and enjoyable 57 minute second feature. In that relatively brief running time, we are exposed to the failing eyesight of elderly cop Guy Kibbee and its possible effect on his impending retirement plans; an attractive young couple (Joan Blondell and Wallace Ford) who "meet cute" and unwittingly get involved with a gang of thieves: a lion that escapes from the park zoo and terrorizes a nearby night club; a beauty contest that goes very bad: and a lunatic who exited an asylum bent on revenge against the person he believes help to send him there---all in the space of less than one hour and to identify just a few!

Kibbee, Blondell and Ford shine in their early career roles. In particular, Blondell's endearing and likable screen presence---coupled with her youthful attractiveness---make her truly a treat to watch. The director in charge of this film was John Adolfo---now virtually unknown and probably best remembered for helming a few of George Arliss's early sound biographical pictures.

CP is rather obscure, but it occasionally turns up on Turner Classic Movies. It is worth your while to seek it out and realize how even a "B" film made quickly and economically under the Warner Brothers studio system.could nonetheless be fun, entertaining and--in its own way--memorable.

A casual examination of the posted user reviews for All About Eve (AAE) reveals a majority that comment favorably on its high level of acting in general and that of Bette Davis in particular. Most have singled out Davis as the indispensable factor that made AAE a classic and one of Hollywood's greatest films. But many may not know that a very different leading lady was initially sought to play Margo Channing, or how she lost the opportunity to do so.

This story is documented in Claudette Colbert-An Illustrated Biography by Lawrence J. Quirk (Crown Publishers, Inc., 1985). In his biography, Quirk refers to a 1978 interview Colbert had with Harry Haun of the New York Daily News as well as another interview that George Sanders (who played Addison De Witt in AAE) had with an unidentified source. Colbert and Sanders both discussed the casting of Margo Channing in AAE--and their views are both interesting and revealing.

Three Came Home (TCH) is a Twentieth Century-Fox film also released in 1950 that starred Colbert as a real person (author Agnes Newton Keith) who suffered the extreme cruelty of civilian imprisonment by the Japanese when they occupied Borneo during WWII. Her role was physically and mentally taxing, and the realism of her performance almost assumes a documentary-like level. While Colbert was working in TCH, Darryl F. Zanuck had begun negotiations with her to play Margo Channing in his upcoming film titled AAE. Colbert looked forward to the challenge of acting in such a different part--which could have been the greatest opportunity of her film career.

On the last day of shooting TCH, Colbert was to appear in a scene in which she was the victim of an attempted rape by a Japanese prison guard. The scene was brutal, graphic and extended. An unfortunate accident occurred during filming it that resulted in Colbert rupturing a spinal disk, and this necessitated an immediate hospital confinement. Zanuck waited for two months, hoping that Colbert would recover to the point she could begin AAE. It did not happen. AAE could wait no longer, and this resulted in his approaching Bette Davis on short notice to assume the role that was originally to be played by Colbert. The rest is history.

According to Colbert, Anne Baxter had been signed earlier to play Eve because when young she resembled Colbert. Per the script, Eve had a fixation about Margo--that she could be a better version of the older star. When Davis assumed the part, the story had to be modified to reflect the casting change. As AAE director Joseph Mankiewicz once said, "Look. If Claudette had done the part, people would say I was spoofing Ina Claire instead of Tallulah Bankhead."

Mankiewicz and Colbert had wondered over the years whether AAE would have been the same movie without Davis. Might Colbert have infused the Margo Channing role with a gentler more restrained touch? Sanders believed that Davis's powerful and passionate personality had elevated AAE to a summit of biting wit and sharpness. Sanders opined that "we would have had a different picture with Colbert, much as I admire her."

Of course we will never know the answer to the Davis/Colbert acting riddle about the Margo Channing role. Colbert considered the loss of that part to be perhaps the greatest disappointment of her career. She paid a truly high price in the interest of playing her part in TCH with such conviction,dedication and professionalism. And then Fate gave Bette Davis a lucky break for the ages!

The early career of Claudette Colbert was primarily characterized by her success with roles in romantic comedies and domestic melodramas. As she approached her 40s, Colbert embarked on a career shift toward more mature parts.. She shrewdly determined that notwithstanding her prior success in "light" portrayals, she could still sustain her popularity by taking on more age appropriate assignments. Three Came Home (TCH) was the culmination of this trend begun with So Proudly We Hail (1943) when she was 38 years old. It continued with Since You Went Away (1944) and Tomorrow Is Forever (1946). By the time Colbert undertook TCH in 1950, she was well established and believable in playing such parts.

Working in TCH resulted in one of the greatest tragedies of Colbert's career. The movie was possibly the most physically and mentally challenging part she had ever undertaken, but she willingly subjected herself to exhaustion and danger to achieve an almost documentary-like realism. This culminated on the very last day of shooting in an attempted rape scene accident and a herniated spinal disk that landed her in the hospital. Even after a delay of a few months to recover, Colbert was still unable to accept the offered role of Margo Channing in All About Eve (1950). Accordingly, she lost the opportunity to play what might have been the most extraordinary part of her distinguished career because of professionalism and dedication to her craft. Few actors have ever paid a higher price than Colbert did in this instance.

TCH garnered many admiring critical reviews, but it was not the financial success that Twentieth Century-Fox anticipated. Darryl F. Zanuck was later quoted as saying that prisoner of war camp survival under the most inhumane conditions was likely a subject that was just too grim for 1950 audiences to take, and that with the wisdom of hindsight, American moviegoers probably had had enough of WWII films.

TCH provided veteran actor Sessue Hayakawa with the important role of the camp commandant that he reprised seven years later to even greater acclaim and an Oscar Best Supporting Actor nomination in The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). And the work of stalwart Patric Knowles as Colbert's screen husband may have been his most memorable movie effort.

Many critics believe that TCH was Colbert's finest film of the 1950s. She certainly never did anything better from TCH until retiring from the screen in 1961.

Have you ever seen a film that contained several aspects that reminded you of similar ones recalled from your earlier movie going experience? This happened to me when I first saw Son of fury (SOF)--one of Tyrone Power's best (and less well-known) historical adventure films from his pre-WWII career period.

When the opening scenes of SOF unfolded, I was immediately struck by their resemblance to those of Wuthering Heights (1939). Heathcliff and Benjamin Blake are certainly two very different characters, but the plot development in the early portion of these movies does seem somewhat alike.

I was also struck by the fact that SOF almost cried out for Technicolor rather than black and white photography,--and remembered feeling the same way after seeing a later Power epic (Prince of Foxes (1949)). Both movies had great sets, costumes and location scenery that would have probably been more spectacular if shot in color. Why they were not is unknown to me.

Other reviewers have noted the casting in SOF of frequent Power co-stars George Sanders and John Carradine. These two supporting actors were among the most versatile who worked during The Golden Age of Hollywood. Compare Sanders' menacing role in SOF with his strong sympathetic performance two years earlier in Alfred Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent (1940). And similarly compare Carradine's likable part in SOF with his repulsive cowardly character of Bob Ford opposite Power in Jesse James (1939). You would be hard pressed to find any better evidence of great acting range and talent than those just cited for Sanders and Carradine. It is quite astonishing!

Frances Farmer's rise and fall are now firmly embedded among Hollywood's most tragic legends. I can vividly recall the first time I ever saw her on the screen. It was in the little known and seldom seen South of Pago Pago (1940). Her talent and beauty in this south seas adventure film were obvious for all to behold. What a loss!

The Humphrey Bogart classic The Maltese Falcon (1941) was made just one year before SOF. The most memorable supporting role in Falcon was that of Kasper Gutman---the "Fat Man" memorably played by Sydney Greenstreet in his film debut. The Bogart version was the third one. The first was also titled The Maltese Falcon (1931). In that first version, Gutman was played by veteran character actor Dudley Digges---who was also cast in the crucial part of Benjamin Blake's attorney in SOF!

In the south seas island sequences in SOF, Benjamin Blake creates the name "Eve" for the character played by Gene Tierney. In My Favorite Wife (1940) released just two years before SOF, Randolph Scott and Irene Dunne share a tropical island for some time while awaiting rescue. Scott nick-named the Dunne character "Eve" while they are on the island!

In its own right, SOF is a fine film and rousing entertainment. It deserves a wider audience that is sure to appreciate its many charms.

The Pride of the Yankees (TPOTY) is one of the greatest baseball movies ever made. Its enduring strength comes from the film's focus on Lou Gehrig's character and personal values, including decency, integrity and having a strong internal moral compass. He became a public figure without a whiff of scandal, and achieved star status because of his God-given gifts rather than celebrity behavior.

The casting of this film is significant. To play the left-handed Gehrig from his youthful days as a Columbia University undergraduate student to the time of his terminal illness when still a relatively young man, Samuel Goldwyn chose the right-handed middle aged (then 41) Gary Cooper. Cooper was an actor without significant apparent athletic skills, yet he made it easy to suspend disbelief with his nuanced portrayal of Gehrig---particularly evident when playing him as a young college student. Interestingly, Cooper was cast as another baseball player (a pitcher with a blown-out arm) just one year earlier in Frank Capra's Meet John Doe.

In the important part of Eleanor Twitchell---who became Gehrig's wife and soul-mate---Goldwyn chose Teresa Wright. She was 17 years younger than Cooper--and considerably younger and more attractive than the real-life Eleanor Twitchell Gehrig. Wright was in the middle of the most accomplished period of her film career--having just completed Mrs. Miniver and soon to be working on Shadow of a Doubr. She had the unique experience of being nominated for a Best Actress Oscar for TPOTY the same year (1942) that she was also nominated and won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for Mrs. Miniver!

In his excellent biography of Wright--A Girl's Got to Breathe (2016), Donald Spoto explained how the book got its curious title. It referred to a spontaneous remark made by Wright during a romantic sequence in TPOTY---when Cooper and Wright were locked in an embrace that apparently developed a life of its own! Off screen,Wright found Cooper pleasant and professional---someone who tended to keep to himself and often whittled wood as a distraction. The romantic scenes with six foot three inches Cooper and five foot two inches Wright presented a logistical challenge, but it was not apparent in the final film. As for their personal relationship during production, Wright said that ".... We got along very well on the set, although there was almost no chitchat...but I never really knew him." The camera tells us a very different story!

Eleanor Gehrig had previously suggested either Jean Arthur or Barbara Stanwyck as actresses who she felt could best play her in TPOTY. In the end---she stated that nobody could have done it better or as well as Teresa Wright.

TPOTy had a stellar company of supporting players, including Cooper's frequent co-star Walter Brennan. Its reputation as a Golden Age of Hollywood classic only increases with the passage of time. Cooper's farewell speech as Gehrig at the end of the film is one of the most inspiring moments in the history of American cinema. And the magic that Cooper and Wright created in this film makes it truly one for the ages.

Forever Amber (FA) is a classic example of how a major controversial studio-system project evolved from a troubled production into a commercially successful movie. It was based on the sexy popular novel written by Kathleen Winsor and tagged by studio head Darryl F. Zanuck to be the biggest film made by Twentieth Century-Fox in 1947.

From its earliest efforts, FA was destined not to be an easy film to make. Original director John M. Stahl and lead actress Peggy Cummins were the first to go, after Zanuck found their work unsatisfactory. He turned to then-contract director Otto Preminger to salvage the production, but he had little interest in doing so. Preminger disliked the novel and wanted Lana Turner to now play Amber rather than Zanuck's personal choice---TCF contract player Linda Darnell. However, Turner was under contract to MGM at the time, while Darnell was a TCF employee (like Preminger). In the end, Preminger did what he was told to do. Zanuck gave Preminger a new script and production, but the director remained unhappy with the final result.

Would the film have been more successful with Turner as Amber? Probably not. Turner had an acting range somewhat similar to Darnell's. With the wisdom of hindsight, it seems that the Amber role should have gone to an actress who could convey more strength, spirit and courage. At that time, someone like Susan Hayward or Maureen O'Hara might have been able to make a real difference in creating the Amber character. But Zanuck was the boss of TCF, and the project had to conform to his vision of it. That FA turned out as well as it did is a tribute to the often high quality results obtained from the collaborative efforts possible under the studio system.

While many critics had little praise to offer for the acting of FA's two principal leads (Darnell and Cornel Wilde), George Sanders is often singled out for his sardonic performance as King Charles II. But to this reviewer, the best acting in the film came from character player Richard Haydn. His Clifton Webb imitation as Amber's rich elderly husband was quite entertaining, droll and thoroughly appropriate.

An interesting side note to the casting in FA. Jessica Tandy played without any particular distinction the rather bland and colorless role of Amber's servant Nan Britton. Almost at the same time, she lit the New. York stage with her performance as the original Blanche du Bois in A. Streetcar Named Desire---for which she received a Tony Award in 1948. . It is hard to imagine two such different performances coming from the same actress at about the same time.

Many people believe that FA is really a disguised version of Gone with the Wind. I submit that it is much closer in plot and spirit to the lesser known but more enjoyable period romance Kitty (1945), directed with great style by the under appreciated Mitchell Leisen. It is too bad that Kitty was shot in black and white. Once again--blame the studio system!

The second episode of TZ's memorable first season involves a fantasy idea that has occupied the thoughts of many of us at one time or another. Who has not wished to be able to trick Death, and in doing so achieve immortality? This plot element is quite old---dating back to the ancient Greeks and The Pardoner'sTale in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Perhaps its most celebrated example is when Gramps induces Mr. Brink (Death) to climb his apple tree in Paul Osborn's Broadway hit and classic movie On Borrowed Time (1938).

One for the Angels (OFTA) presents us with Lou/Lew Bookman---an elderly sidewalk pitchman (played by Ed Wynn) who schemes with Mr. Death to avert The Evil Decree only to have to deal with the unforeseen consequences of his plan. The plot is clever, but On Borrowed Time may possibly be more imaginative in dramatizing how to cheat death for a time---but only for a time. Of course, in the end Death must always win.

Rod Serling had successfully used Wynn a year earlier in his great teleplay Requiem for a Heavyweight for Playhouse 90, and wrote OFTA specifically for Wynn. It was a curious bit of casting, since Wynn's acting experience was somewhat limited, and his speech pattern was slow and hampered by a pronounced lisp. Wynn himself was intimidated by the amount of dialogue he was expected to memorize, and the challenge he faced to make his final pitch truly seem like it was in fact one for the angels. But the basic decency and humanity of Wynn's character somehow overcame these limitations, and it sprung to life as one of great sensitivity and compassion. Or as Marc Scott Zicree stated in The Twilight Zone Companion (1982), Wynn's portrayal "emerges as a moving commentary on mortality and self-sacrifice."

Ed Wynn had a long and notable career as a comedian-entertainer. But his work in Reqiem for a Heavyweight and OFTA suggests that he likely could have achieved considerable additional acclaim as a serious actor had these opportunities come earlier in his life.

Serling never expanded OFTA into a feature length movie as he did in Requiem. But thanks to the marvels of film, we are able to see this fine effort by Ed Wynn preserved for us to enjoy today--some 75 years later. Art is timeless!

It has happened to most of us at one time or another. The daily stresses of life begin to wear us down in their often unrelenting way, and we seek escape from that unpleasantness through a flight of fancy. In the case of Barbara Jean Trenton (ida Lupino), she slips into a past movie world where she was once famous, young and beautiful. Eventually, reality becomes blurred for her---and for us, too, as we watch her rediscover herself in The Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling was fond of this plot device, which he revisited to greater advantage later in that astonishing first season with A Stop at Willoughby--now a classic of the series. The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine (TSMS) provided excellent acting opportunities for the under-appreciated Lupino as the aging star who finds happiness only through reliving her life from an earlier time. And Martin Balsam as her sensitive and caring agent. This episode was a first class effort in every respect, from using a score composed by Franz Waxman, cinematography by-the legendary George T. Clemens and direction by Mitchell Leisen--one of the most celebrated Hollywood directors from its Golden Age.

Lupino and Balsam are justifiably well known. Leisen is less so today, and a modern audience may not fully appreciate just how important he was when at the apex of his fame. Trained as an architect and celebrated early in his career as a successful art and set director and costume designer, Leisen became a full-fledged film director with many noteworthy credits in his resume. He directed a great Fredric March early classic (Death Takes a Holiday); helmed one of John Barrymore's most enjoyable comedy performances (Midnight); and helped shape the lead role in To Each His Own that resulted in Olivia de Havilland winning a Best Actress Academy Award in 1946.

TSMS is not as well known as many other first season episodes from The Twilight Zone. This is a real pity, because it is extremely well produced and directed, and provides the audience with a good balance between bitterness and nostalgia so that neither overpowers the other. With its obvious plot similarities to the film Sunset Boulevard, Ida Lupino's fascinating performance is an interesting one to compare with the more famous but perhaps less nuanced one of Gloria Swanson. TSMS is certainly worthy of your attention when you make a visit to The Twilight Zone.

In the 1930s, Warner Brothers became the go-to studio for making films involving social drama themes---particularly stories about crime and its effect on society. Its three principal male actors who developed a specialty in playing roles in this genre were Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney and Edward G. Robinson. They achieved major fame from the realistic and often violent way they depicted criminal behavior during this period of economic unrest brought about by the Great Depression.

However, in the midst of starring in many "gangster-type" movies, each of these actors departed from being type-cast and chose to "spoof" their other work by tackling comedy. Cagney was the first with a pair of comic criminal satires---"Lady Killer " (LK) (1933) and "Jimmy the Gent"(1934). Robinson soon followed with "A Slight Case of Murder" (1938). Finally, Bogart appeared in "All Through the Night" (1942). LK may be the best of this group of films because of its energetic pace, nonstop action, inspired combination of comedy and melodrama and the sheer fun Cagney and the other actors seemed to have at poking holes in their usual anti-social characters.

In particular, Cagney excelled in projecting wit, vitality, cockiness and optimism at a time when life was especially hard on members of the underclass. Just as Footlight Parade (1933) captures the young Jimmy Cagney in a definitive example of his unique and under appreciated dancing skill---LK gave him a rare opportunity to demonstrate his special aptitude for physical comedy. This was often missed because so many of his hit movies dealt with serious social issues.. Cagney was so believable as the theater usher/criminal/movie actor character in LK that many in the audience actually felt that they were watching the "real" Cagney on the screen---a transformation perhaps more dramatic than any realized in the work of either Bogart or Robinson.

The idea that a mobster would move to Hollywood to escape the law and successfully adopt the guise of an actor in the process is outrageous yet compelling in its audacity. That Cagney would then become a real star as part of the narrative only adds "icing to the cake." Was Cagney really.what he pretended to be--and if so---which role reflected his true character?

Hollywood often took itself quite seriously when it engaged in self-satire. Cf. A Star Is Born.(1937) and. Sunset Boulevard (1950). In LK, the narrative borders on the outlandish, which only adds to its enjoyment as movie entertainment. All the actors seem inspired by participating in this thoroughly offbeat.and delightful film. It is our loss that the multi-talented James Cagney never was given another similar opportunity to play.a zany comic character.

In any event, we have LK---and that is a major plus in a long career that had so many others!

The process of creating a work of art can be extremely complex, and each one is unique and irreplaceable. But can something be considered a work of art if it is also derivative?

The Carlos Saura (director)-Antonio Gades (choreographer, dancer, actor) dance film version of Prosper Merimee's classic novel Carmen provides a perfect example to resolve this question. It draws much of its power and beauty from the famous Georges Bizet opera of the same name, whose libretto is cleverly positioned into the film's narrative. Yet the Saura-Gades film also borrows ideas from still other works of art: Can the passion involved in bringing life to an artistic creation supplant normal human love (The Red Shoes 1948)? And what happens when the creative process takes over and controls the artist's life to the point that he/she can no longer distinguish fantasy from reality (A Double Life.1947, itself derived from the earlier British film Men Are Not Gods 1936)?

In Carmen, Saura and Gades took Merimee's timeless story of love, jealousy, betrayal and doom and transposed it into a remarkable dance synthesis that manages to be both dramatically interesting and sensually passionate at the same time. In addition to a gorgeous sound track featuring generous portions of Bizet's glorious opera, Carmen's creators have given us an outstanding visual treat. The dance sequences are astonishing in how well they are integrated into Carmen's narrative--again reminiscent of The Red Shoes. For all its artifices, Carmen grabs its audience into a world that still manages to be both believable and arresting.

It is difficult to make a realistic yet theatrical movie about the creative process. Even the most acclaimed such ventures sometimes seem to be unable to totally escape from their artificial roots (cf. All About Eve 1950). This makes Carmen a very special achievement, one that excites and thrills us even with repeated viewings.

Carmen may be derivative, but it is undeniably a work of art as well as an entertainment landmark. Very highly recommended.

The actor Cary Grant made his first movie (This Is the Night) in 1932. For the next five years, Grant made about 25 more films, and demonstrated flashes of real cinematic talent. He had his breakthrough experience in 1937 by making Topper (his 27th) and The Awful Truth (his 29th). In these two films, he created for the first time the character Cary Grant. This gentleman was smooth, debonair, charming, possessed a good sense of humor, charismatic, appealing and quite handsome--like catnip to women while at the same time being likable to men. What a combination of desirable attributes! This character appeared with considerable regularity, popularity and acclaim through the period that ended with Charade in 1963. These films are among the greatest of all time, and the Cary Grant character that they displayed is probably why he became one of the most admired leading men in the history of cinema.

Charade was written by Peter Stone, and contains the last film to feature the Cary Grant character in all its glory. In Charade, Grant was approaching the age of 60 while his co-star Audrey Hepburn was then 34--a difference of 26 years. Charade provided a clear illustration of what was becoming the only real problem with the Cary Grant character---the public could and would accept him as aging "gracefully" but the process seemed to require his being paired with women who were getting considerably younger than he was. Among his recent co-stars were Grace Kelly (born 1928), Eva Marie Saint (born 1924), Sophia Loren (born 1934), Suzy Parker (born 1933) and Betsy Drake (born 1923). Grant was getting increasingly uncomfortable with this situation, and Stone had to develop some inspired creative dialogue in Charade to enhance the believability of pairing Grant with Hepburn.

Grant and Stone became involved in his next film--Father Goose (FG). A shrewd realist, Grant (born 1904) sensed that he had to come up with a new character to make plausible the romantic casting of himself with Leslie Caron (born 1932). The idea Stone and Grant came up with was to make Grant a grizzled, alcoholic beachcomber on a South Pacific island early in World War II who by chance encounters Caron and her brood of young girls and helps them to escape from the menacing Japanese. Grant's new character was often funny and occasionally likable, but he was decidedly not occupying the same space inhabited by the classic Cary Grant character.

FG would be the last film in which Cary Grant was cast as a romantic leading man. His next (and final) film was Walk, Don't Run---a remake of the 1943 classic The More the Merrier, in which he played the part that garnered a Supporting Oscar for Charles Coburn as the aging Cupid.

Unlike Fredric March, Humphrey Bogart, Charles Boyer and other former leading men, Grant could not be accepted by his public in a non-Cary Grant character part. He readily embraced retirement and never looked back. While the critics liked FG, his fans did not. The world moved on. FG is still an entertaining comedy with an endearing performance by Grant, but the days of the Cary Grant character were now over. Long live the king!

Frank Sinatra has had an interesting film career---one that ranged from playing a grimy cowboy in a Western spoof, a Runyonesque character, a Spanish revolutionary, an army misfit, a criminal mastermind, a dope addict, etc. It was not always this way. In the beginning of that career, his handlers created a nice guy image for him, and he usually was cast as a sweet natured, kind, decent, likable and almost asexual fellow who often seemed too good to be believed. It Happened in Brooklyn (IHIB) is a movie from that early period, and is quite typical of the kind of roles he was.accepting before everything changed after he took on the part of Maggio in From Here to Eternity (1953). IHIB was made between his appearance in the Jerome Kern biopic Till the Clouds Roll By (1946) and his almost saintly village priest in The Miracle of the Bells (1948).

It is hard to believe that the character Danny Webson Miller in IHIB was played by the same actor who could also make you accept him as a private eye in the manner of Humphrey Bogart's Marlowe in The Big Sleep.(1946). How many moviegoers in 1947 had the foresight to see in Sinatra's nascent film appearances the range and versatility he would repeatedly demonstrate throughout his extensive and remarkable film career?

In any event, IHIB captures an early incarnation of Sinatra in a most enjoyable musical--one of the declining number from this period made by MGM in black and white. His work with the legendary Jimmy Durante confirms just how natural and unassuming he could be on the screen. And once again, Sinatra and Kathryn Grayson complemented each other in producing an entertaining pair of most talented singers on the cusp of breakout stardom. His easy-going charm was so typical of him at this stage of his film work. It is a shame that he would in just a short seven years become Presidential assassin John Baron in Suddenly (1954), and move into a totally different phase of his movie stardom.

Frank Sinatra rose from a bobby sox crooner in the mold of Bing Crosby (his idol) to become one of the most popular movie stars of his generation. He did so primarily on the basis of a huge reserve of latent natural talent. In IHIB, you can see this gift in early bloom. It is a classic entertainment from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Bad for Each Other ([BFEO) is an obscure modestly regarded film that Charlton Heston made as a Paramount contract employee on loan out to Columbia at the dawn of his cinematic acting career. It was preceded by his excellent western movie Arrowhead, and immediately followed by his well regarded unusual adventure film The Naked Jungle (all made in 1953). BFEO (unlike Arrowhead and The Naked Jungle) is a contemporary social melodrama with a story set in a coal mining suburb of Pittsburgh. Heston is a recently discharged MD who is faced with the usual dilemma such folks often have to deal with: should he be a capitalist and seek out the most lucrative opportunity to practice medicine or a humanitarian and apply his skills to help the less fortunate people in his community? This is the issue at the heart of BFEO.

Heston is conflicted and somewhat self-righteous as he comes to grips with his personal values and convictions. Complicating matters are those individuals who are the major influences in his life: a predatory society woman who has set her sights on him (Lizabeth Scott), an idealistic nurse (Dianne Foster), a young doctor who believes that fulfillment can only come from assisting the poor (Arthur Franz), an older doctor who has a small practice in the mining community (Rhys Williams) and a.mother who believes that he should stay and work in his home town (Mildred Dunnock).

BFEO has a plot that contains echoes from other films: So Big (1932), The Citadel (1938), Not as a Stranger (1955), How Green Was My Valley (1941) and The Best Years of Our Lives (1948). It was directed in workmanlike fashion by veteran Irving Rapper, and the acting is consistently interesting. Heston is sincere, stalwart and occasionally naive in his troubled soul-searching, Scott (cast against type) is a spirited if not entirely credible rich young matron, Foster is a beautiful and appealing supporting player, Franz (a successful TV actor at the time) is quite engaging in his idealistic role, Williams is strong and dependable as always and Dunnock makes a most realistic mother trying to help her son with his choices in life. This excellent cast lifts BFEO from being a routine somewhat derivative entertainment, and the film certainly deserves a fresh reconsideration by a modern audience.

Why was this film not titled Gold Diggers of 1934? It had many of the hallmarks that characterized the Berkeley hits of the early 1930s---songs by Harry Warren and Al Dubin, a cast including Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler, Joan Blondell and Guy Kibbee, yet another variation on the tried and true "How do we find a financial backer for our Broadway-worthy show?" plot line, and a generous presentation of Berkeley-inspired dance numbers with all those gorgeous girls in their best pre-code finery. At times, you could not help but feel that you had seen this before---and you probably did.

One possible explanation for the Dames title attached to this enjoyable confection is the fact that it was sandwiched in between two Berkeley films that signaled they were (or might be) part of an ongoing series of similar WB offerings. Dames was preceded by Fashions of 1934 directed by William Dieterle (not usually associated with this kind of material) featuring William Powell and a light role starring Bette Davis. It was followed by Gold Diggers of 1935 (Berkeley's solo effort as a film director) starring Dick Powell and Gloria Stuart and featuring the classic Warren-Dubin song The Lullaby of Broadway. It is certainly possible that WB may have been becoming sensitive to an accusation that any movie series (or even the appearance of one) could be criticized as being packaged, repetitive and lacking originality.

And what can we say about Dames? It is probably more "screwball" than most of the others in the Berkeley-WB 1930s canon. Dames definitely makes no attempt to tell a deep story--but who cares? With the usual WB Stock Company augmented by Zazu Pitts and Hugh Herbert, how could Dames miss as a top notch comedy musical? It had five.songs--three by Warren and Dubin---including the unforgettable I Only Have Eyes for You---one of the most splendid songs ever written for a film. That tune and the Dames title song were staged by Berkeley into exceptional rhythmic creations incorporating unique abstract designs that one critic called a "startlingly kaleidoscopic cacophony of geometric and floral mosaics." Another reviewer used the word " cinematerpsichorean"in an attempt to describe Berkeley's artistic triumph in Dames.

Berkeley was working at full throttle in the creation of Dames. What followed it may signal the beginning of a decline in his creativity. But Dames ranks among his greatest cinematic accomplishments.