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This was 20th Century Fox's first attempt to tell the story about the evacuation of British children during WWII. The studio's next production would be a bigger budgeted undertaking and also feature Roddy McDowall. The second film, called THE PIED PIPER, would be released in August 1942 and star Monty Woolley. This tale was released six months earlier in February; it's more of a 'B' programmer and is the first motion picture in which young McDowall is top billed. He had already proven his worth at Fox in previous work like MAN HUNT and HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY.

In a way McDowall is perfect for this role (and his subsequent role in MY FRIEND FLICKA) since he has an innate likable quality and polished English manners. This makes his acting style most accessible to movie watchers. He is also a bit less Americanized in 1942 than he would be in his later work, so it is easier to believe him as an outsider who comes to Ohio to avoid the London Blitz and must assimilate with other kids his age.

Today's viewer should understand a few historical facts which provide context about what was happening in 1942 when U. S. involvement in the Second World War was just beginning. Because Britain and France declared war against Germany, it was decided that British children would be safer if they were sent from the larger cities like London to outlying remote areas. They often left their parents and went with teachers to stay in these areas with foster families.

In some situations, these children were sent abroad, to places in North America; places in Australia or New Zealand; or places in South Africa. It is estimated that roughly three and a half million British children were sent away to escape aerial bombing. Some of them were orphaned, having lost their parents in bombing raids that occurred in 1940 and 1941. Evacuees during Operation Pied Piper, as it was called, also included pregnant women who gave birth while living abroad.

The children who were sent to Canada and the United States found lodging with relatives, family friends or other families sympathetic to the cause of sheltering them. About six thousand went to Canada; and five thousand traveled to the U. S. In this film, McDowall's character is sent to the "sunny side" of the Atlantic to live with a couple played by Katharine Alexander and Don Douglas. He shares living space wit their son (Freddie Mercer).

At first McDowall and Mercer get along, teaching each other different slang from their respective countries- since the English language is not spoken the same in different parts of the world. They also attend school together and deal with a neighborhood bully (Stanley Clements). These episodes are meant to show their fraternal bond, representing international cooperation. However, there are conflicts that occur when Mercer's character is jealous over how popular McDowall has become among his family and friends. A no-nonsense housekeeper (second billed Jane Darwell, coming off her Oscar win for THE GRAPES OF WRATH) provides wise counsel.

It's all meant to show us that conflicts and solutions can be found anywhere there are people from different nations attempting to get along. Some of it comes across a bit simplistic, but what we have is nonetheless an effective morale booster, told from the point of view of youth. Contemporary viewers enjoyed the sequence where McDowall's able to talk to his folks back in Britain on a shortwave radio. Broadcast networks in the U. S., Canada and other host countries collaborated with the BBC for a program called 'Children Calling Home' which allowed the evacuated kids to talk to their parents live on the air. It makes things a little less dark, a little more sunny for them.

The highly regarded suspense writer Cornell Woolrich was a tortured man, afraid of dying. He spent much of his time inside and rarely went out. It's not surprising that Woolrich saw life as something where innocent people were trapped by circumstances beyond their control. His most well-known stories featured characters that are haunted to some degree.

THE WINDOW is an RKO production based on Woolrich's short story 'The Boy Cried Murder' which had been published a few years earlier. The studio optioned the story, developed a script and started filming in mid-November 1947 in New York. Filming lasted until early January 1948. This was the first time the studio made a motion picture in its new RKO-Pathe facility in New York City. Some exteriors were done at tenement buildings in impoverished neighborhoods, which adds a layer of gritty realism.

Though the film was edited and ready for release by mid-1948, Howard Hughes had taken over the studio and fired producer Dore Schary. Hughes viewed a finished print of the picture, and didn't like what he watched because he thought Bobby Driscoll was a bad child actor. He had no intention of releasing something he felt would not earn money (an opinion he had about several pictures he had taken over from Schary). But Hughes was finally persuaded to release THE WINDOW in mid-1949. The movie earned plaudits from critics and helped Driscoll, who was also making hit films for Walt Disney, a special Oscar.

Driscoll plays a stand-in for the frightened inner-boy that existed in Woolrich. He is a twelve year old kid who lies all the time. So it is no wonder that when he accidentally witnesses a man being killed and dismembered, his parents (Barbara Hale & Arthur Kennedy) do not believe him. They think the 'murder' is just another product of Driscoll's vivid imagination. The mother is particularly distressed by the supposed fabrication.

Of course, Driscoll's character is telling the truth, and the killers- a neighbor couple (Ruth Roman & Paul Stewart)- know this. They know he knows what they've done, which puts his life in danger. It's a dandy set-up in terms of creating suspenseful drama and terror on screen. Woolrich's short story is not quite fifty pages long, but he presents a gem of an idea about a boy and a group of adults who either believe him or disbelieve him. While the movie adds other neighborhood kids to the mix, the emphasis is always on Driscoll and what his character must do to deal with such scary circumstances.

THE WINDOW was remade as a British feature in 1966 which used Woolrich's original title. But in that version, the family is on vacation to Yugoslavia where the murder occurs. There was another British film in 1970 that told a similar story, that time the kid lived with a grandparent and saw a political assassination. Back in America, Hollywood gave the story another go in 1984 when Universal made CLOAK AND DAGGER.

The mid-80s production starred Henry Thomas in the main role, hot off his recent success in E. T.; with Dabney Coleman as the father. This time the father is widowed and the crux of the story is whether a dad believes his son. The basic scenario is embellished so that the kid gets draw into a killing involving FBI agents, a secret military formula and spies. The evil husband and wife who must silence him are an elderly twosome played in by longtime character actor John McIntire and his wife Jeanette Nolan.

Fess Parker is billed second in this Paramount Technicolor western that was filmed in VistaVision. But clearly he is playing the most prominent character. He's cast as an ex-raider who was incarcerated after acts of violence committed by his men had injured and killed countless people in pre-Civil War Kansas. He has now broken out of prison on account that he's received news his wife died. As a fugitive from justice, he's riding a dark trail that may end in his own death.

It's a role that had been intended for William Holden, but Holden turned it down to make THE HORSE SOLDIERS with John Ford and John Wayne. It's a shame that Holden didn't stay with this production, because he would have more to do here than he does in the Ford-Wayne picture. But Parker is a more than adequate fill-in who does an admirable job with the dramatic aspects of the story, and even gets to strum guitar and sing a little.

Parker had just severed ties with Walt Disney and signed with Paramount, eager to make his mark in more multidimensional roles. Parker's character ends up becoming heroic by the end of the story, a Jayhawker in name only, since we learn it is mostly a ruse to ferret out the more violent raider leader, played by Jeff Chandler. The studio borrowed Chandler from his home studio Universal, and he has a field day as a baddie in the mold of abolitionist John Brown.

There is some sort of history lesson to be found in the drama that unfolds, but most of it seems watered down. Chandler's character is supposedly against slavery, but he's more interested in using the upcoming war between the states to gain control over Kansas territory. As for Parker's character, it is implied he's neither for nor against one side; just that he'd been more interested in protecting his farm.

Part of the story involves an attractive French immigrant (Nicole Maurey) and her two young children. They've taken over Parker's land, since it had been sold to settle debts while he was in the penitentiary. Of course, Parker wants to reclaim his farm and interacts with Maurey's character more than once, which paves the way for a budding romance to occur.

While this aspect of the plot is fairly extraneous, Parker does register chemistry with Maurey and the child actors; their scenes together are worth watching. As for Parker's interactions with Chandler, there is considerable homoerotic tension in most of their scenes. I don't think this is Parker's "fault" since he seems to play his role rather straight; I think instead this is a type of energy that Chandler brings to the scenes since he seems to be attracted to Parker's energy.

A homoerotic reading is probably not intended by the scriptwriter and director- and it certainly wouldn't be condoned by the production code- but it still does become a noticeable part of Chandler's characterization. It gives him additional dimension and ambiguity. We see Parker treat him like a brother, despite his evil ways on screen; but there is no real hope for Chandler, who at best can only be assured a noble death if he ultimately dies for a good cause.

Three months before MERRY WIVES OF RENO was first screened by Warner Brothers, the studio had released a similar precode comedy called CONVENTION CITY with much of the same cast. As some classic film fans know, CONVENTION CITY encountered problems with the Production Code Administration office when Warners attempted to re-release it after the code was fully enforced. Supposedly Jack Warner had the negatives destroyed, thinking he could never exhibit it again and make any more money from it.

This leads me to ask the question, why does MERRY WIVES OF RENO survive, but CONVENTION CITY does not? I think the reason the Production Code people gave MERRY WIVES a free pass, if you will, is because despite the massive amount of cavorting and sinning that goes on, the film ends with a reconfirmation of the sanctity of marriage. Both couples, the older couple (Guy Kibbee & Ruth Donnelly) and the younger couple (Donald Woods & Margaret Lindsay) halt their divorce proceedings in Reno and stay married. This would no doubt have earned favor with censors who wanted motion pictures to uphold the value of matrimony.

Personally I find some of the racier content quite tame by modern standards. It does seem like the writers and performers are going out of their way to push the envelope with some of the tawdrier lines of dialogue and scenarios that are enacted, but it's kind of like they're doing something for attention, not to make a real impact. In that regard, much of it can be overlooked with a chuckle and shrug of the shoulder. In other words, it's not a story that is so subversive it's offensive or a story that is going to cause people to rethink society's established norms.

There is no on-location filming, all of it is done on studio soundstages, including the scenes on the train. The hotel rooms in Reno look curiously like the couples' apartments back in New York. It's not as if the set designers have stretched themselves creatively. I would expect most of the budget was put into keeping the studio lights on and feeding the sheep that plays a supporting role in the lives of a third couple (Hugh Herbert & Glenda Farrell). This is not exactly high-brow cinema or motion picture art.

For the most part I enjoyed the amusing situations, though I thought the running gag with the sheep was overdone. Also, I thought the bits with the exasperated Reno lawyer (Hobart Cavanaugh) were overplayed, though occasionally funny. I figured the two main couples would reconcile and not actually go through with any sort of legal separation. But I did laugh a few times at how convoluted it all got, especially when they crossed paths with an opportunistic hotel employee (the always excellent Frank McHugh).

In SCARLET STREET, Edward G. Robinson is cast as a would-be artist who meets and "saves" a streetwalker played by Joan Bennett. The two stars previously worked together a year earlier in THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW; and this time, they're remaking a 1931 French film called LA CHIENNE by Jean Renoir.

The action gets underway as they meet on a rain-soaked city street one night. It doesn't take long before Robinson is in over his head. He quickly falls into a depraved whirlpool of lust and deception, with Bennett the object of his affections. She's young, attractive and the complete opposite of his henpecking wife (Rosalind Ivan). But she and her boyfriend (Dan Duryea) see an easy target, and they work to mislead Robinson and finagle money out of him at every turn.

By day Robinson is a cashier; and by night, he's a Greenwich Village painter. When Bennett finds out he paints, she volunteers to pose for him. They agree to a cozy set-up in an apartment that doubles as his studio and her living quarters. Of course, Robinson's wife has no idea any of this is going on; and he becomes increasingly attracted to his new subject despite being twice her age. As he takes leave of his senses, Bennett continues to manipulate and take advantage of him. Bennett plays her to the hilt.

Unfortunately, he doesn't figure out what's happening until it's too late; and by the time the story reaches its inevitable conclusion, their clandestine relationship has led to his complete self-destruction. A desperate man who had it all suddenly ends up with nothing because of a muse with a bewitching power. But she has strangely inspired his greatest and most lasting work of art.

It would be interesting to know why MGM decided to remake this classic tearjerker, based on a popular French play, in the mid-1930s after the production code was being enforced. Or why the studio never assigned the title role to Greta Garbo or Norma Shearer. Maybe the actresses said no?

For those not already familiar with the often told story, a wealthy mother (Gladys George) is caught having an affair by her unforgiving husband (Warren William). She is cast out on the streets and turns to a life of ill-repute and poverty while her abandoned son (John Beal) has been brought up to think she's dead.

As if these melodramatic twists are not enough, the son happens to become a defense attorney following in dear old dad's professional footsteps. Later, he becomes counsel for the mother, not knowing she is his mother, defending her when she is on trial for murder. The irony, and this story is loaded with irony to the max, is that she has killed a swinish man (Henry Daniell who seems to have taken out a trademark on nefarious portrayals) that was going to expose her true identity to the son.

Then as if that is not enough, we have the explosive courtroom scenes where the father (William) who is the one who probably should have been on trial for what he did to the mother, realizes the woman on the stand is his long-estranged ex-wife and that she is determined to go to the electric chair to spare their son (Beal) the agony of having tawdry family secrets come out in court. If ever there was a group that should win the award for most dysfunctional family of the year, it's this bunch.

With all these sinful plot points, it is no wonder that MGM which had already produced the story in 1929 with Ruth Chatterton, would be hemmed in by the censors. Most of the mother's shocking lifestyle choices while she is in New Orleans and later in Buenos Aires are merely hinted at. Not once is the word prostitute uttered, though given the way she is dressed and the company she keeps, it is fairly obvious and the viewer can figure it all out. In addition to her life of ill-repute and her being on the run from the law, she has developed a fondness for booze.

It is somewhat unbelievable when Beal's character begs the jury to save his client's life, that he can call her a great and wonderful woman. Her choices have appeared to be anything but great or wonderful. At the end, when she dies in a side chamber, just as a verdict is about to rendered in the case, he is still transfixed by her charms and accepts a "motherly" kiss from her.

Some of this is contrived to the hilt, lachrymose is the word for it, but Gladys George does dandy work in this picture. She gives an extraordinary performance conveying the pathos of the character, to the point that you cannot help but be pulled into such theatrics. Factor in MGM's production values and you have a winner.

This Cold War noir from Columbia has above average production values as well as above average performances and direction. The script is based on Paul Gallico's novel about a U. S. newsman who investigates confessions received by Communist leaders that wield considerable power behind the iron curtain.

Dana Andrews portrays the newspaper man working abroad determined to find out just how the Communists extort confessions out of citizens, journalists, and members of the diplomatic corps. Of course, there are myriad reasons these men and women fall into the trap; sometimes it is due to carelessness, other times it is due to these individuals' own overzealousness, thinking they can outwit the Communists. Andrews' character is certainly not careless, but he is brash and a tad overzealous. He ends up being held hostage and tortured.

One of the themes of the novel, and the movie, is that a terrible price is paid each time someone is nabbed and coerced into revealing important information about our government. There is a lowering of standards, which can be regarded as a victory for the other side. During the Cold War, Communist victories were the result of methods that broke a man like Andrews' character. Not only his free will, but his personality and intelligence.

As Andrews' boss (George Sanders) and a female reporter (Marta Toren, in her last Hollywood picture) try to obtain his release, we see what Andrews' character experiences while imprisoned by the other side. He is harassed, manipulated, drugged and brainwashed. Statements he makes on tape are edited to make it seem like he's a traitor. It's interesting to see Andrews play this role, a man who goes from cocky and self-assured, to traumatized and shell-shocked by the Hungarian Communists.

Eventually his time as a spy ends when Sanders is able to arrange a trade for him with another person (Sandro Giglio) that the Communists want to reclaim. The exchange occurs along a neutral border during the film's final sequence. These scenes are full of emotional tension and suspense.

When Columbia produced this espionage drama in 1952, Hungary was a Soviet satellite, with military police brainwashing occurring behind the iron curtain. The ending is slightly predictable, but we are left with some sobering realizations. After Andrews returns home, he will be in need of medical treatment and psychotherapy; he has undergone a harrowing transformation.

We are told Robert Young's character has violated half a dozen moral laws. But defense counsel says he is not on trial for any moral offenses. Tell that to the production code office. They won't let him escape unscathed. He will have to develop a conscience and pay the ultimate price for his sins, even if he's not really a murderer.

Years later Robert Young told talk show host Dick Cavett that this movie was a failure. He said it flopped with audiences because he played an unsympathetic cad. Though I suspect it was fun for him to portray a flawed figure against type. Maybe he would've gotten away with it early in his career during the precode days of Hollywood. But as a more respectable actor in the late 40s, on the threshold of becoming a father who always knew best, he wasn't going to get away with being so unsavory.

The extended flashback structure the narrative employs is a noir trope. While our main character is on trial, we flash to events and women who have led him to where he is now: on the witness stand testifying on his own behalf. The first main flashback involves his relationship with an attractive woman (Jane Greer) while he's stuck in a marriage to a passive aggressive society wife (Rita Johnson).

Part of the "fun" is how smooth an operator he is. At the same time, he's a fool not to realize how his wife (Johnson) is pulling the strings with her money. Interestingly, he dumps the girlfriend (Greer) only to cross paths later with her, when he's hooked up with a new gal (Susan Hayward).

The next major flashback involves the relationship between Young's character and Hayward's. We learn that after dumping Greer, Young has been whisked out west by Johnson who has set him up in a brokerage firm. Hayward works at the firm and quickly gets involved with him. The film's theme seems to be about what it takes to keep a man going. In this case, it takes the security of his wife's finances; a prestigious job; and those enticing flings on the side.

Hayward was borrowed by RKO from independent producer Walter Wanger. She is quite good as the more devious girlfriend, a closer match in personality to Young's character than Greer. It is the type of role that would have been done well by Wanger's wife Joan Bennett, who did these kinds of parts in her sleep with Fritz Lang.

Since we know Young's character is on trial for murder, we realize as the story unspools that he is either being accused of killing his wife or else a girlfriend. Greer is a courtroom spectator, so it's not her.

As the last main flashback plays out, we learn how Hayward's character died in an auto accident, with her body burned beyond recognition; with Young passing her off as his wife. Ironically, Johnson's character had died at the same time, at home on their remote ranch, by suicide. In some regards, it's a slightly convoluted plot line, but most noirs are thoroughly and satisfyingly convoluted.

After finishing his testimony, Young's character waits while the jury deliberates. He is visited one last time in prison by Greer. It brings their relationship full circle. She seems to believe in his innocence at this point. But his own lack of faith in himself seals his fate when he returns to court to hear the verdict read. Whether or not they believe his story, he will still be doomed, if he doesn't believe in himself.

It's not too difficult to see why the production code office had some qualms about the script for this very funny comedy from Republic Pictures. The main storyline involves a somewhat flippant attitude about the sanctity of marriage, since a young gal (Patricia Farr) goes out one evening and comes back home married to an older man (Neil Hamilton) she never met before. But that's not all; she's already married to a con artist (Joseph Schildkraut).

Worried that the young gal will go to jail for bigamy, her older sis (Sally Eilers) decides to take her place. Not exactly sure how that would stop Hamilton from claiming he was duped into marriage by a bigamous woman, but it gives Eilers a chance to infiltrate his wealthy estate and get to know his bratty kids (Marcia Mae Jones and George Ernest). The kids don't want daddy married again, but Eilers won't go away quietly. She takes the mother part of stepmother to heart and decides to give the kids a proper upbringing, though she is not technically married to their father.

Not only do we have a farce about marriage, we also have a farce about motherhood and childrearing. The actors all play it rather broadly, and they all get a lot of mileage out of the zany material. I suppose you could call it a screwball comedy, though it's not really about bizarre people; it's about a bizarre set of circumstances that otherwise respectable people are mixed up in before things become normal.

Eilers is having a field day playing off Hamilton and the kids, as a woman who has finally found her calling in life. Though it really is Schildkraut, who enters into a strange "business" arrangement with the kids to help them remove Eilers from the home, who gets the best lines. In case Schildkraut becomes too much of a cad, we learn he has some decency in him. Since he still has feelings for Eilers' kid sister, he does the right thing in the end by cutting Eilers a break.

As the film started to wrap up, I did wonder if the writers would be able to undo the bigamy part of the narrative in order to provide a morally acceptable happy ending. And to my surprise, the writers have done that, in a rather clever way. It turns out that Schildkraut has been declared legally insane, meaning the younger sister's marriage to him was invalid, and she was legally wed to Hamilton.

Though she never really lived under Hamilton's room as his wife, since her sister took on that role, she is able to successfully get a divorce. This clears the path for her to reunite with Schildkraut (who knows why, but love is strange), which then enables Eilers to marry Hamilton and be a real mom to his kids who are no longer the monsters they were.

"He's a phenomenon." We hear this line several times during the course of the film. It is usually said by Alberto Sordi's character, a music teacher, when referring to the young boy (Giancarlo Zarfati) he gives lessons to in the story. Of course, he doesn't exclaim this fact in the earlier scenes. In the beginning, he is annoyed that he's been given this six-year-old kid to teach.

Actually, the relationship involves more than just the traditional teacher-student scenario. Young Zarfati's father has been imprisoned one day after school, while Sordi is tutoring the boy. Not wanting to be saddled with the responsibility of looking after him, Sordi takes the kid around the city to drop him at the uncles. But all three uncles refuse to take the child in; so Sordi has no choice but to provide food and shelter for the kid himself.

There are some cute scenes in which Sordi and Zarfati bond. The best moment during this part of the film is when Sordi realizes that Zarfati has a deep sounding baritone voice that makes him a natural for opera. We have several funny scenes with Zarfati (obviously lip-syncing) performing opera. Sordi quickly takes the boy to an agent who signs him to a contract.

One of the movie's funniest parts has young Zarfati performing opera in a mature role, though he has to stand on a chair to be taller than the diva playing his "daughter" on stage. It's a really inspired gag. Zarfati has a pure screen presence, even while hamming things up; though Sordi is definitely the bigger ham.

While watching BRAVISSIMO, I had to ask myself what the moral of the story was, because it's there but not so obvious. The moral is that postwar Italy was building its hopes of renewed prosperity on the younger generation since these kids would lead the country into the future. Sordi's character makes the mistake of pushing the child too hard and not letting him be like the other boys and girls his age.

Zarfati's character ends up rebelling and running away. He is subsequently hidden by a German girl (Riccarda Momo) whose nanny happens to be a relative (Patrizia Rovere). It's sweet how Momo and Rovere express fondness in looking after the boy, when all the male authority figures in his life either didn't want him, or were exploiting his talents.

There's a very memorable shot where Zarfati, dressed in a clown jester's costume for the opera, has run away in the rain and ends up on the balcony of Momo's home. He is on the outside looking in, a funny boy with a sad life.

THE OCTOBER MAN is a good British film noir starring John Mills, in which we have a main character who is said to love life. He goes through a terrible ordeal and then experiences post-traumatic stress. It affects the amount of confidence he has in himself, and his ability to rebuild his life, which won't be the same as it was before.

He's involved in a terrible bus crash, and it sets in motion a series of events that nearly overtake him. Mills plays this man continually on the brink of suicide. His troubled psyche is shown in how he reacts to screeching train whistles and a tied handkerchief, which may be a symbol of his inner torment.

The film shares themes with RANDOM HARVEST because of the mental block that Mills' character suffers after the accident. Also, it's a bit similar to THE BLUE DAHLIA because of the head injury trauma that's depicted. In THE BLUE DAHLIA, William Bendix plays a returning serviceman who has experienced brain damage in battle. We don't quite get that in THE OCTOBER MAN with Mills' character, though it might be suggested that his condition is similar to men who've just come back from the war.

Mills gives an honest performance; a very understated and graceful performance. The way he conveys the barely suppressed hysteria of the main character is outstanding.

Unlike many of his contemporaries, Mills was successful in avoiding being typecast in his motion picture assignments. With THE OCTOBER MAN, he's channeling a wounded hero in his portrayal-- physical recovery and mental recovery, after a traumatic event. The bus crash stands in for the disaster and fatalities that men saw first-hand in the war; though his character is a civilian, and he's a chemist. He carries this wounding with him throughout the rest of the story, until the very end.

We see him lose everything in the beginning. Then he gradually rebuilds his life. Settling into a room at a hotel, he begins a new job, then starts meeting new people. Eventually, we see him falling in love, regaining his confidence. Then it's all in jeopardy again when a murder occurs.

I found Joan Greenwood to be most effective as the love interest. She doesn't have oodles of screen time, but her role is essential, especially when it comes time for the plot's denouement.

Meanwhile, we have Edward Chapman in the role of another hotel resident. He is revealed as the killer two-thirds of the way into the drama, which isn't too surprising. This sets up a final sequence with Mills hurrying off to a train station to stop Chapman and prove his own innocence.

There's a very tense scene where Mills confronts Chapman, in order to out him as the killer. This is where we see how twisted Chapman's character is. He's defiant, and he thinks he will get away with murder. He is counting on a prevailing prejudice against the mentally ill to trap Mills' character and ensure that Mills is blamed. I love how deranged and bold Chapman plays it is during this confrontation, and how nihilistic it is for Mills' character. Mills will take the fall for the killing, unless he fights back and does something. Truly excellent acting from both these men.

Of course the mistake Chapman's character makes is he should have gone off to Glasgow, long enough for Mills to be arrested. Then he could have made his way to Lisbon from Glasgow. The one thing where I think the plot stretches credibility is that the police wait a rather long time before they decide Mills is their man and go to arrest him. I don't think we're supposed to feel the police are exactly incompetent. But they are being thorough, and they take their sweet time.

Perhaps the story needs to have the police act slowly, so that Mills is free to confront Chapman and figure out where he's going. But I felt the police would have been more aggressive. Also not once does Mills' character even consider finding an attorney to consult with, because he's more interested in either going back to the hospital for treatment, or else killing himself...before he develops the resolve to nab the true culprit.

Ultimately, Mills does become self-empowered enough to prevail. And after the main crisis has been resolved, we know that he will end up with Greenwood. She's someone who has supported him and has been there for him through it all.

The lead role in this durable outdoor picture from Paramount was intended for Gary Cooper. But before the cameras rolled, studio execs decided he was making too many outdoor action yarns, so at the last minute they pulled him off this project and gave the role to fellow contract player Fred MacMurray. One wonders how many other times MacMurray got Cooper's "leftovers."

It's worth noting that this was MacMurray's first western film. MacMurray himself was the first to admit he didn't exactly feel at ease on a horse. Typically, he stuck with romantic stories, comedies or crime flicks. However, he would return to western fare full-time in the 1950s when the genre was at its peak, to keep the momentum of his big screen career going before he transitioned to a weekly television series in the early 1960s.

Costarring with MacMurray as two of the other rangers in the story are Jack Oakie and Lloyd Nolan. Like MacMurray, Oakie seldom ventured into this genre, sticking more with comedies that suited his unique brand of shtick and broad acting style. As for Nolan, he was being assigned good supporting roles in 'A' pictures, though he also began doing leads in 'B' pics.

Since MacMurray's inherited Cooper's role, he is playing the more heroic character. Oakie is along as a trusty sidekick, while Nolan gets to be the bad guy outlaw that MacMurray and Oakie must track down. Interestingly, all three are pals and on the wrong side of the law in the beginning, before MacMurray and Oakie shape up. They sign up to become respectable Texas Rangers, while Nolan continues a life of crime.

In real life the Texas Rangers first gained prominence as a law enforcement agency in the 1830s. After the Civil War, the Rangers were temporarily disbanded; then re-formed and are still active law enforcers today. When Paramount made this film, a book had just been published by Walter Webb celebrating the hundred-year exploits of the Rangers.

The film was directed by King Vidor on location in Texas and parts of New Mexico. It was Vidor's first outdoor western since 1930's BILLY THE KID. He wouldn't make another such picture until 1946's DUEL IN THE SUN- that one was filmed in Arizona. Years later, THE TEXAS RANGERS was included as part of a retrospective of Vidor's work.

In 1940 Paramount produced a sequel, TEXAS RANGERS RIDE AGAIN which featured a different cast since Oakie's character is killed off, and Nolan had moved over to making Michael Shayne detective dramas at 20th Century Fox. MacMurray was in the process of being loaned to Warner Brothers for an aviation story with Errol Flynn. The sequel had lesser known stars and a smaller budget. It was helmed by director James Hogan who was known more for his 'B' fare.

Later in the decade the studio decided to go back to the original story and remake it as STREETS OF LAREDO in 1949. In the remake William Holden would be cast as the hero; MacDonald Carey would play the villain; and William Bendix would take over for Oakie.

In a way Betsy Drake is perfect for the lead role in this raucous Warner Brothers comedy. Why? Because her real-life personality, which was left of center despite being born into a wealthy conservative Chicago family, makes her ideal when it comes to playing kooks on screen. She would even play kooky characters in the more dramatic roles she had, probably because she couldn't help it.

Drake's then-husband Cary Grant campaigned hard for Jack Warner to cast her in this film. They'd already made a romcom at RKO a year earlier, called EVERY GIRL SHOULD BE MARRIED. Apparently, Grant took to the title to heart, deciding Drake should be married, to him. The marriage wouldn't last, especially when he decided a decade later that he'd rather be married to Sophia Lorean, who dumped him for producer Carlo Ponti. That's another story.

In this story, Drake plays a struggling career girl whose job at a top ad agency is hanging by a thread. Due to a fortunate set of circumstances, she meets the owner of a baby food company, played by Edmund Gwenn, who has a large account with the ad firm. Gwenn thinks Drake is an unwed mother, because she is using a plastic doll wrapped in a blanket, to get prime seating on the subway to and from work each day. Yes, it's that kind of silliness at which Drake excels.

Gwenn has discovered where Drake works and tells the ad men (Dennis Morgan and Zachary Scott, who seems to be taking a part intended for Jack Carson) that he wants them to show every consideration to Drake. The guys quickly promote Drake from mimeograph operator to company executive- only in the movies! She's given her own posh office with her name on the door. Never mind the fact she knows very little about advertising, or babies for that matter.

There are additional far-fetched situations and communications mix-ups. Gwenn thinks the baby doll is named after him, then he thinks the baby is sick, then he thinks Scott is the father of the "baby" even though Drake is expressing more interest in Morgan. Oh, and at the same time, Morgan and Scott think Drake is a secret girlfriend of Gwenn's. It's all meant to generate one laugh after another; and while I didn't find the proceedings totally hilarious, it was a sufficiently amusing comedy that put a smile on my face.

The main theme conveyed in RKO's adaptation of Robert Sherwood's play 'The Queen's Husband' is that monarchs can have human qualities. But most humans will never have the qualities to be monarchs. It's a cheeky way to look at the extraordinary aspects of royal life when the subjects in a palace may wish to be quite ordinary. In this story, a king and a queen do not always have real freedom; instead, they have noble duties and obligations.

The king's daughter, a lovely princess played by young Mary Astor, is told in no uncertain terms by her domineering mother (Nance O'Neil) that her duty is to enter into an arranged marriage. The proposed union is with a man (Hugh Trevor) that Astor's character vehemently dislikes, but a splashy wedding will help solidify power for their fictional European nation among other great European countries. Astor might have gone along with the plan, if she did not already love another man- her father's handsome secretary (Anthony Bushell).

A considerable part of the story's charm is that the king (Lowell Sherman, who also directed this film adaptation) is aware of his daughter's secret romance and wants to help Astor and Bushell find their happy-ever-after. But before that can happen, the king must outfox a military general keen on becoming a dictator (Robert Warwick in delicious scene stealing mode); as well as find a solution involving a radical revolutionary (J. Carrol Naish) and a political group wanting to turn the land into a republic with voting rights for the common masses.

One thing I enjoyed about the story was the sincere sometimes droll and perfectly understated way that Sherman portrays the king. As lead actor and director, he certainly could have amped up his performance as a henpecked ruler; but he wisely refrains from going in that direction. As a result, he renders a most genuine and tender portrait of a king who only wants his daughter to be happy, his fellow countrymen to be happy; and his wife to realize her true place alongside him on the throne.

Nance O'Neil's performance as the overbearing queen is one of the focal points of THE ROYAL BED. O'Neil has a very commanding theatrical performance style. And yes, she does go a bit "big" in how she plays her role; but since this is a comedy, even her occasional overacting adds to the fun. Sherman would direct and costar with O'Neil again in another picture a few years later.

RKO spent a good deal of money transferring Sherwood's Broadway hit to the screen. It's a talkie precode meant for an intelligent audience. Every so often the story opens up to include exterior scenes, such as a sequence where the queen is going off to America to raise money; as well as later scenes when the revolution is taking place just outside the palace. However, most of the action does take place inside the king's inner sanctum. But the performances are so good and so engaging that you hardly notice the stagier aspects of the production.

Northside 777 is a number, that if you call it, you can provide useful information to a hardworking scrubwoman (Kasia Orzazewski) who is eager to spring her son (Richard Conte) from prison. If you call now, you will receive a beautiful sum of five thousand dollars, and you will have the knowledge that you helped do some good in the world. Unless Conte is actually guilty and belongs behind bars.

James Stewart is cast in the lead role as a reporter whose boss (Lee J. Cobb) sees the woman's ad in the paper and asks him to do a story on it. One cannot really call Stewart a crusading reporter, since he seems rather reluctant to get involved. When he first meets the scrubwoman and then later her ex-daughter-in-law (Joanne De Bergh) he is not exactly convinced that Conte was framed in the killing of a Chicago police officer back in 1932. But because this is a human interest story, he goes to work on it.

Of course, as he starts digging into the case, he becomes immersed in the facts. And gradually, he does start believing in Conte's innocence. While this is constructed as a semi-documentary noir, based on a true story, I felt some of it seemed rather contrived in spots. Why didn't anyone look into the case sooner? After all, it was said that Conte's mother had posted an earlier ad offering three grand, which is not exactly chicken feed.

Also, when Stewart starts looking into things, we don't see him looking over the trial transcripts or talking to the cops or D. A. who put Conte in prison. No, instead, we must have Stewart playing hero detective, tracking down possible witnesses and interviewing the parties directly involved, including Conte himself. Oh, and that brings me to something else: Conte looks like the healthiest most well-fed inmate ever shown on screen. I guess incarceration for over a decade has agreed with him.

It might have worked better if Conte's character couldn't remember all the details on the day that the murder took place, if maybe he had been on a drinking binge; or had been knocked out in an alley around the time the crime occurred, leading us to wonder if maybe he really was guilty and if justice had been doled out correctly. In fact, I think it would have given the story a melancholy irony if the mother was wrong in maintaining her son's so-called innocence, and that the ex-wife was correct in divorcing Conte.

As it is, there is no real ambiguity or suspense; the story is heavily slanted in Conte's favor. And more than that, it is heavily slanted in favor of Stewart playing hero and bringing about justice when nobody else seemed to care. The studio's slick production values and the film's artistic attempts to present the story in dark tones is ultimately undermined by the production code, that the shining light of justice has to wash out all the darkness in the end. Nobody in this film is ever going to call Southside 666.

EXECUTIVE SUITE is a time capsule of 1950s prosperity. If we want to call it that. It could just as easily have been made in the late 40s or early 60s since it reflects postwar concerns before the countercultural revolution. A revolution which might have involved the children of our main characters, played by William Holden and June Allyson. It's interesting to watch the film and try and guess what happened to these people ten and twenty years later.

Allyson was right at home with these domesticated parts which is not a slight but rather a compliment. My favorite scene in the movie is when she's playing catch, since she gets to show off some of her tomboy qualities. Yet we do know that she is in every sense a consummate wife and "business" partner in the marriage. She anchors her husband and her support gives him a competitive edge over the other men at work.

Much has been made of the film's sterling cast. I would argue that this may be a case where a motion picture is "over"cast. Some of the roles could have been played by unknowns trying to prove themselves at the studio. They didn't all have to be established stars or well-known character actors.

Speaking of the character roles, I am sure that if Frank Morgan was still around he would have played the part taken by Louis Calhern. And if L. B. Mayer had still been calling the shots and Lewis Stone was still alive, Stone would have had Dean Jagger's part. In some respects, it's a tailor-made vehicle for studio contractees who might otherwise have been idle or between projects at the Lion.

I think Barbara Stanwyck was cast, not because she was pals with lead star Holden, but because Wise and producer John Houseman remembered her searing portrayal of BABY FACE. Back in 1933 she was a gutsy young social climber stepping on people to move up the rungs of the corporate ladder. At this point, two decades later, she has fully arrived. This character may be an heiress, but she has a certain amount of chutzpah. Such savvy keeps her at the top in this Fortune 500 jungle, traits Julia Tredway would have certainly had in common with her precode counterpart. When I watch the film I sort of fantasize that it's Babyface with a name change and that she is the same character.

If we go with that thought, then where did all her scheming in her younger days bring her? She doesn't seem to be very happy in this environment. And perhaps she is not fulfilled, certainly not in the way June Allyson's character is fulfilled. She might even be romantically frustrated, flirting with Holden, but actually in a secret affair with Nina Foch's character. Okay, I think you can see how I am brainstorming for a remake!

I do love how the story builds to that big boardroom scene at the end. But the ending is still a bit too predictable for my tastes. I would like to have seen some sort of upset or some sort of vague resolution that allows us to think about the characters' fates the way we can at the end of PATTERNS.

Hollywood's original version of Somerset Maugham's classic story was produced just before the production code was strictly enforced. In fact, RKO's production was released into theaters during the last week of June 1934-- the code took full effect a few days later on July 1st. So while this is technically an example of precode cinema, one can see certain compromises were forced on the story. For example, the main female character, played by Bette Davis, dies of tuberculosis on screen; but in Maugham's book, the ailment was syphilis.

There are a few different subplots in the book that have been cut from the 1934 film. And it's just as well, since RKO was not attempting any epic retelling of the tale; just a simplified version of the central 'love story.' And we do have to put those words in 'quotes.'

Producer Pandro Berman was in charge and following his predecessor David Selznick's lead, he made it into a somewhat glossy high-end literary adaptation. Just like the studio's production of LITTLE WOMEN a year earlier, the sets and clothing are very detailed. The make-up is first rate, especially as Davis's trashy waitress character becomes ill. And there are great photographed scenes in terms of lighting and mise-en-scene (frame composition).

Two later remakes were filmed by other studios-- one made by Warner Brothers in 1944 (with its release postponed to 1946); and another one made by MGM in the 1960s. But most cinephiles feel this precode version is by far the best.

I will admit that a lot of viewers are more enthralled with Davis's acting than I am. Don't get me wrong, I think she does put a lot of thought into her characterization; but she still has a tendency to go a bit overboard. I think this is a good example of an actress trying to prove herself and get an Oscar by pulling out all the stops.

Of course, there's that one memorable scene which everyone associates with the film. Yes, I know it supposedly put her on the map as a star. But there's a little too much scenery chewing, and she could have dialed it down and still given a highly effective performance. That's a minor complaint. She does etch a strong portrait of a troubled woman who causes drama for everyone she meets. And Leslie Howard does well playing her put-upon romantic lead.

Recently, I read a portion of Pauline Kael's review. I think she expresses something close to how I feel about the picture and about Davis as the ever-impossible Mildred. Kael says specifically that Davis sinks her hooks into the role of the Cockney waitress; and makes the role work through sheer will. Kael also mentions the other women in the film, such as lovely young Frances Dee, as well as Kay Johnson.

Kael doesn't mention Alan Hale. I think he gives an underrated performance as one of Davis's conquests. Though I am glad she talks about Frances Dee. I think in some ways Frances Dee steals the picture out from Davis, because we want her to be Howard's reward in the end, for suffering through Davis's cruel machinations. Dee plays the character we end up rooting for. At least I ended up rooting for her. And of course, it doesn't hurt that Dee is a conventional beauty playing a likable woman.

Typically, every time there's a pregnancy depicted on screen, Kate's shown in a supporting role. This happened when Nancy became pregnant the second time, and in another episode when Kate helped deliver the child of a woman (Kim Darby) she met locked inside a condo. In fact, the condo-birth episode had a very good soliloquy by Kate, who was trying to keep the other woman from freaking out too much, by explaining what it was like when she gave birth to her four children (Nancy, Willie, the deceased Timmy and Buddy).

Now we have Kate center stage in a pregnancy tale of her own. Actress Sada Thompson was probably too advanced in age to play this storyline realistically. The writers should have explored a late in life pregnancy for Kate in the first or second season, when she was a tad younger and it was still believable she hadn't quite hit menopause yet. But by this point, after the start of the fifth season, she does seem a bit too old to become pregnant.

Of course Thompson is brilliant as always. Through her expert acting, we see Kate experience a plethora of different emotions when she learns she is having an 'oops' baby. Since Buddy the youngest is now more self-sufficient, Kate is already beginning to feel the early stages of empty nest syndrome and seems to welcome one more chick in the nest, before it's too late.

The episode works mostly because in addition to our seeing how Kate deals with the unexpected pregnancy, we get to see how the news reverberates across the family. Doug (James Broderick) has his own feelings about it, and so do the kids. Not everyone in the Lawrence family unit wants this baby, like Kate does.

Again as we have seen in the episode where Nancy had a second pregnancy, there is talk about aborting a baby when no threat to the mother or child has been detected by a doctor. It's a little blasé that the women in the show can claim abortion as a method of birth control AFTER conception. It sends the wrong message to viewers.

Also, as in the case with the episode in which Nancy decided against abortion, Kate is definitely not going to choose abortion. But like Nancy, she still talks about it before she conveniently miscarries. This way the writers get to present liberated views, but do not have to commit to a whole season of Kate being pregnant.

A few years later, it would become a trend for middle-aged parents to have late-in-life babies on TV shows. ABC's genial sitcom Too Close for Comfort had Nancy Dussault's character pregnant during the entire 1981-82 season, in which she and Ted Knight welcomed a new son while their older daughters were already in their 20s. Over at NBC, Meredith Baxter's character would have a forty-ish pregnancy on Family Ties, since the actress did have a real-life pregnancy and gave birth to twins. She and husband David Birney obviously did not see abortion as the right choice.

This time the focus is on Nancy (played by Meredith Baxter Birney). Often Nancy remains on the sidelines when the bigger Lawrence family issues play out; or she is given a slight conflict to deal with in the subplot. But this time she is front and center. Incidentally, the occasional lack of screen time wasn't due to the writers, but due to Baxter's own arrangement with the network. She only agreed to take the role if she didn't have to work full-time, because she had three young children (two under age five) at home to care for during this time.

So in some ways the stories with Nancy do mirror Baxter's own real life situation, since she was busy being a mother on and off screen. In the storyline, Nancy is still raising son Timmy, fathered by ex Jeff (John Rubenstein). However, she and Jeff have been toying with the idea of getting back together. They've been sharing a bed, but at this point, have decided it's best to remain apart. Only there's a fly in the proverbial ointment.

Nancy learns she is pregnant again, carrying Jeff's second child. She doesn't exactly feel as if raising Timmy is easy as it is, and bringing another life into the mix might push them all to the breaking point. Naturally, Jeff would be happy about the news, if told.

One thing I didn't care about was the obligatory talk about an abortion. Abortion is presented here as birth control AFTER conception, which I personally do not agree with. Birth control should occur before conception. If a pregnancy has occurred and it's not a life-threatening one, the answer should not be to terminate. Nancy is from an affluent family; Jeff also has money. There is no reason to get rid of this baby, except for selfish reasons.

The freedoms, if you will, that came to women after Roe versus Wade, were often misused. If Nancy and Jeff were not going to reunite or remarry, then the child could have been given to a relative to raise if it was too much for Nancy on her own. But of course, we know Jeff is mostly an upstanding guy and would help support the baby financially, as he has done with Timmy.

Since the program does not want to alienate its core Christian audience, it doesn't have Nancy actually go through with the aboriton. It's a lot of talk that leads to no action on screen of aborting the unborn child. The episode ends with Nancy having decided to keep it, but a few episodes later she will conveniently miscarry, because the issue has been explored, and the writers are not really interested in expanding Nancy and Jeff's family.

When she wasn't busy being a wife and mother, and saddling up alongside Roy Rogers in those popular B-westerns at Republic, Dale Evans occasionally got a chance to act. To really act. The singer-actress had begun her Hollywood career at 20th Century Fox in the early 1940s. That studio typically assigned her to B musicals and B comedies. She didn't branch out into westerns until she moved over to Republic Pictures a short time later.

But Dale Evans had it in her to be a real star, and not just as a wholesome cowgirl with Roy, Trigger and company. Occasionally, Republic boss Herbert Yates would give Evans a more substantial role without Roy, either in a comedy or in this case a well-crafted crime yarn. Evans made THE TRESPASSER after the western BELLS OF SAN ANGELO, just before she would take a year off on maternity leave. Maybe this plum assignment was Yates' way of gaining her loyalty and making sure she came back to do more movies after her maternity leave was over? I don't know.

In the story Evans plays a nightclub singer, cast against type as a selfish woman who is only interested in her career and what a man can do for her. But we do not see her until the second main sequence. The story's first sequence involves a wholesome gal (Janet Martin) who is hired to work for a local newspaper called The Evening Gazette. Martin is led to believe she will be replacing a literary critic (William Bakewell), though there has been a mix-up.

With the help of a nice reporter (Douglas Fowley), Martin is allowed to remain at the newspaper, but will instead be assigned to help in the 'morgue,' a room down in the basement where old articles are archived (in the days before computers) and research is done.

While she is settling into the job, we find out the literary critic is part of a forgery ring involving collectible books which are not really as valuable as they seem. I was impressed by how accurate the dialogue was with regards to rare book collections and manuscript details that can be studied to detect forgery. There are five people credited with the story/screenplay, and someone on this team obviously had expert knowledge about literature as well as the newspaper business.

Dale Evans comes into the story, because the crooked literary critic is her character's husband (Bakewell). Bakewell is afraid that he will be exposed as a criminal, and he tries to frame Fowley's character for his misdeeds, which involve an equally nefarious bookseller (Gregory Gaye). During a ride in a car with Fowley, Bakewell loses control of the vehicle which plunges off the side of a cliff in a very gripping action sequence filmed on location.

Suddenly, Bakewell's character is dead; and from here Fowley must work to draw Gaye out into the open. We then see Fowley questioning a local bartender and other assorted individuals with knowledge or information that might be useful.

After the death of her husband, Evans' character begins to soften. She is now interested in justice and in helping Fowley and Martin catch Gaye. There is a very suspenseful scene where the two women visit Gaye's business and try to trick him. Naturally, the ploy puts them in great danger. Of course, Fowley and the police arrive in the nick of time to save them and thwart Gaye.

Ordinarily, this would the be type of film where we'd expect Evans to be cast as the more wholesome female, not a woman who is morally challenged like she is here in this story. It's a good part for her, since she gets to look all glamorous as a nightclub entertainer and gets to sing. But more importantly, she is able to prove that she can perform a substantial dramatic arc that demonstrates considerable character growth. I enjoyed watching her portray someone who ultimately sets her career-related vanity aside to do what is right.

There's a scene near the beginning of this Paramount precode, after a shocking murder has been committed, where Edmund Lowe shows up to get the scoop. He plays a newshound, not quite in the Lee Tracy mode, but just as annoying I suppose. As his frenemy, the head investigator (Victor McLaglen) tries to collect evidence, Lowe phones the newspaper office with his own salacious take on the crime scene. Of course, he'll make it all sound as dirty as he can for readers.

Lowe is very good in this role. He's a well-heeled man-about-town with a penchant for the sensational. The quips come fast and furious, especially when he goes toe to toe with McLaglen. Incidentally, Lowe & McLaglen were a movie team of sorts, who made 11 motion pictures together. The first one was a silent version of WHAT PRICE GLORY, and GUILTY AS HELL comes near the beginning of their various collaborations.

Maybe one reason the Lowe-McLaglen team works so well is that they are complete opposites. Lowe is a bit urbane, while McLaglen is from the rough-and-tumble school of hard knocks. Yet, I think these two actors respected each other a great deal; and they seem to enjoy the ongoing banter between them, at least in this offering.

The story, which was remade by Paramount as NIGHT CLUB SCANDAL in 1937, concerns a crafty doctor (Henry Stephenson) who decides to kill his unfaithful wife (Claire Dodd) and pin it on the gal's lover (Richard Arlen). The doc is so effective at constructing a frame-up as well as a false alibi for himself that he nearly gets away with it. The "alibi" is corroborated by a nosey landlady (Elizabeth Patterson, the only performer to repeat her role in the remake).

Complicating matters is Arlen's sis (Adrienne Ames). She believes in her brother's innocence and convinces Lowe to dig deeper for the real story. Lowe agrees to help, even if McLaglen and a jury are satisfied that Arlen is the guilty party. But there's only so much time to obtain a stay of execution.

In the meantime we have a subplot involving a shady nightclub owner (Ralph Ince) who can incriminate the doctor. After Ince is shot during a scuffle with McLaglen and legs it, he is in need of medical attention. Guess who shows up to remove the bullet, but to also make sure the man doesn't survive the operation? You got it, the doctor.

Stephenson does an okay job in the role, but John Barrymore who plays the clever physician in the remake and gets top billing, is certainly better. With Barrymore, we can more easily believe that a respected man might begin to go mad. The scenes where the doctor becomes increasingly unhinged add to the picture's tension and intrigue.

However, we are never in doubt that the stars of this first version, Lowe & McLaglen, are the main attraction. While their banter gets a bit excessive (betraying some of the talkie aspects of precode Hollywood), it's still rather enjoyable watching these guys tangle and make-up.

A lot has been said about this being Charles Laughton's first and only effort as a film director. It's also been said, depending on whose version you believe, that Robert Mitchum directed scenes and "replaced" Laughton during a few days on set. But while I believe Laughton's stamp is on nearly every frame, visually and performance-wise, I feel the story's authorship belongs to James Agee.

During the 1940s Agee made a name for himself as an outspoken film critic. The best critics probably become filmmakers (see Francois Truffaut), having decided they know what goes into making a decent motion picture. Agee would not only write the script for HUNTER, he also wrote a novel based on his father's death.

Agee is primarily responsible for the main vision of this film because despite using other source material, he shaped the ideas that were put on to the page...ideas that found their way on to the screen. Laughton, Mitchum, the other actors and the cinematographer were of course interpreting Agee's ideas. The central idea is that children who are without a legitimate father are vulnerable and need protecting. This connects with Agee's novel, since that also deals with children (and a mother) cast adrift by unforeseen circumstances.

In some ways HUNTER plays like a gothic children's fairytale. The exaggerated archetypes are likely Laughton's key contribution. The audience wants the children to reach a point of safety, and the children eventually do. However, I cannot help but feel the ending is a bit too syrupy for the edification of viewers.

There are some rather brutal sequences earlier in the movie, especially the part where Willa the mother (Shelley Winters) is killed and then ends up at the bottom of a lake. There are also chilling scenes of the kids hiding in the basement from their dangerous stepfather (Mitchum), and scenes with them on the run. It's them against the world.

Suddenly they meet a kindly woman (Lillian Gish) whose angel-like qualities mean salvation. The kids will now be protected and nobody will harm them again. It's a little too good to be true, and those last few scenes seem like they belong to another movie. Was this due to the production code, or due to the producers' wish to make the product more commercially viable?

The story might have been stronger if the kids hadn't survived. If it had been a teaching point about what happens when latchkey children are not properly looked after. There are youngsters in our society who do not have happy endings.

In 1941 Columbia had a modest hit on its hands with a musical comedy programmer called TWO LATINS FROM MANHATTAN. It starred Joan Davis, who had just moved over to Columbia from Fox, along with Jinx Falkenburg. Davis was now headlining her own films, no longer relegated to supporting Fox stars like Alice Faye and Sonja Henie.

Because LATINS was a hit, Columbia decided to make a sequel, though this is more of a follow-up than a sequel, since the setting initially switches from Manhattan to Chicago and the main characters' names are changed. Davis and Falkenburg are still in the thick of things, but now instead of impersonating Cuban songbirds in New York, they're at a hotel in the midwest working as hotel maids with another gal (Ann Savage).

Davis' character is keen on becoming a theatrical agent to help others realize their show biz dreams. While cleaning a room, she finds a discorded manuscript for a musical play and decides it'll be her golden opportunity. She contacts an east coast agent who is interested in producing the property. But in order to pull off the ruse, she enlists the help of Falkenburg and Savage, since they both want to be Broadway stars. Naturally!

The three women travel to New York, and in the next part of the story, we see the play go into rehearsal. There is a funny subplot involving two other gals (Ramsay Ames & Leslie Brooks) who follow them east and threaten to expose their hoax, unless they also get parts in the play.

In addition to facing exposure, Davis' character has to stay one step ahead of another production which seems to be very similar to her own- since it is the rewritten version of the tossed out script she found back in Chicago. The production code won't allow Davis and her pals to get away with the deception, and they're jailed.

But the version of the play they brought to Broadway is a hit, so at least their instincts were good. One thing I always admire about Joan Davis, which was very much in evidence during her self-titled TV sitcom a decade later, is how inventive she is with her line deliveries. It's more than just deadpan; there's usually a solid bit of mischief involved. And she's always fun to watch.

This was the fourth of 12 B westerns that Warner Brothers contract player Dick Foran made at the studio between 1935 and 1937. When Foran died in 1979, his obituary stated that he was one of the first singing cowboys in the movies (around the same time as Gene Autry and definitely ahead of Roy Rogers, who has a bit part as a square dance caller in this film).

Foran was a pleasant sounding tenor and a handsome looking actor who was mostly relegated to B fare at Warners. Sometimes they would put him in an 'A' film like DANGEROUS starring Bette Davis, in which he has a minor role; or in FOUR DAUGHTERS starring Priscilla Lane, and its two sequels. But the studio wasn't exactly interested in promoting his career after these B westerns ended, so he moved over to Universal where he was put to better use in several iconic horror flicks.

In CALIFORNIA MAIL, Foran is playing a former Pony Express rider. His character is interested in snagging a job running a stagecoach line that will deliver the mail to settlers in California. He is one of the highest bidders, and to determine which bidder will get the job, the stagecoach company sets up a race between Foran and two brothers who were also high bidders. The brothers are played by Edmund Cobb and Milton Kibbee, who turn up in other B westerns with Foran.

The brothers are the bad guys. They pull every trick in the book to win the race. Creating problems for Foran seems to come easy for them, including a ploy to frame Foran for murder. Most of the genre's tropes are on display in this picture; we know that Foran will ultimately emerge victorious, so there is very little suspense in that regard. There is also a subplot involving a pretty girl (are there any other kind in wholesome western movies?) played by Linda Perry whose heart is won by Foran, even though Cobb's character thought she belonged to him.

One thing that makes this film, and the eleven other B westerns Foran made at Warners in the mid-30s so engaging, is the actor's pleasing demeanor. What we get on screen is the real thing. In his obituary it was stated that Foran usually did his own stunts and that he would continue to make other westerns later in his career, including FORT APACHE in 1948.

Watching this it like they beefed up the male lead character probably to suit someone of Spencer Tracy's caliber. Especially if he was going to receive top billing. But of course, this is really Hepburn's picture, based on a play written for her by Philip Barry.

Curiously the title is mentioned once, maybe twice, in the dialogue. But given the stars' abundant chemistry, we can't really believe these two don't instantly like each other when they meet despite the fact Hepburn's character is supposed to be haughty, even rude, towards Tracy. That is until she learns who he is, some important scientist her father had admired.

I got the impression that when Hepburn's character discussed her father in scenes it was actually Hepburn using the dialogue to talk about her own real-life father. And memories of a first husband came from Hepburn's own memories of her earlier one-time marriage. It seemed like a form of method acting without contriving to be anything more than honest genuine heartfelt emotion. Such is the beauty of a Katharine Hepburn performance.

I also got the impression there was a lot of sadness inside Hepburn, even in her most radiant, most effervescent moments. This becomes noticeable when you spend time with her on screen. I would say she's Tracy's equal in any scene, and that in some ways, she's a better actor than he is. There's greatness in her smallest movements and emoting.

The two stars are aided by the film's strong supporting cast. Felix Basserman has a thankless role as a research boss who oversees Tracy's experiments in Hepburn's basement. He provides his customary good cheer. Patricia Morison is excellent in a showy supporting role as a society type. Then there's Keenan Wynn who plays a relative of Hepburn's and is involved with Morison.

Wynn's character is a hapless drunk who seems to find himself, and a life with love, by the end of the picture. Lucille Ball is on hand too. She plays a working woman who gets Wynn, though why she saw him as remotely worth her time for two-thirds of the narrative is anyone's guess.

Ball comes across well, in an Eve Arden sort of way, but seems too important to be playing a supporting role. Maybe in her early days at RKO this sort of part might have suited her, but at this stage, Ball was a star in her own right. Quite frankly, she seems miscast, though I did enjoy her friendship scenes with Hepburn which felt real. The movie is a bit too long at almost two hours. But the slower scenes do give us substantial glimpses into wartime marriages. Ones without love, ones with love; and ones that probably fall somewhere in between.