Corruption Eruption

MARCH IS PUGILIST NOIR MONTH

Since film noir is a top genre favorite for movie buffs all over the world, it is not surprising that this obsession spills over into the classic DVD/Blu-Ray collectable universe. Additionally, more than any other genre, noir has had the greatest number of offshoots; indeed, there is show biz noir, romance noir – even horror and western noir. But perhaps the winner of this contest is sports noir, specifically in the arena of boxing. Likely due to the fisticuffs world’s penchant for lowlifes, losers, slinky babes, and evil fixers this sub-genre took off during the post-war years, and continued well into the early 1960s. While there had been a plethora of boxing pics prior to WWII, none had the adult punch of mean street cynicism that leeched on to blood and sweat stained inhabitants until the mid-late 1940s. The pic that started it all was 1947’s BODY AND SOUL, now on restored High Definition Blu-Ray, from the promoters at Olive Films/Paramount Home Entertainment.

Like the characters on-screen, the off-screen machinations of those involved matched the narrative’s residents for pure adrenalin and sheer determination and enthusiasm (the shady aspect may have been not as apparent, although nefarious factions were certainly in play, and would soon rear their ugly heads).

The story/screenplay, as written by Abraham Polonsky (featuring some knockout dialog exchanges like this one: “What are you going to do, kill me? EVERYBODY dies!”), and directed by Robert Rossen, chronicles the rise of ghetto denizen Charley Davis. Charley, a fairly decent guy, lives with and supports his widowed mom (his father being a collateral damage victim of gangland violence), and is blessed with the companionship of Peg Born, the kind of girl next door every serious dude dreams of. Charley’s also no fool, and while not a rocket scientist does possess an over-abundance of street wisdom…and a temper. This proves to be his way out – and, ultimately, his downfall. Spotted by the mob contingent, Charley is groomed for the big time as a boxer. His personality, looks, and what they used to call “moxie” has him soaring to the top of his game – at a great cost.

Success goes to his head with more devastating results than a hammer punch to the skull. And the pug-turned-thug loves it. The money, the power, the ability to intimidate and strike fear…all of this melds with his handlers’s agenda. Even Peg becomes a victim when replaced by smoking hot reptilian Alice.

But, as Charley eventually learns, selling your body and soul has a gruesome price. And his final gasp to regain his decency is one of the most riveting and lip-biting last acts in cinema history.

The movie, of course, stars John Garfield, in what many consider his most iconic role. Garfield is genuinely terrific, but his participation didn’t end on-camera. BODY AND SOUL was the actor’s first starring movie produced for his new independent company, Enterprise Studios (co-founded with David Loew and Charles Einfeld). While the outfit lasted a mere three years, it nevertheless produced an amazing array of great motion-pictures; LSS, there’s rarely a dud in the bunch.

Practically all involved with Enterprise were liberal progressives – a congregation that earned disdain from the many Hollywood moguls. Ironically, the one who hated the company (and its projects) most was Louis B. Mayer – ironic, as MGM became the distributor for the Enterprise output (once UA ditched the company, after the failure of the rather expensive 1948 drama Arch of Triumph). Mayer cringed but was unable to do much, due to his diminishing authority at the studio – plus the fact that the pics were receiving major critical kudos, and (often) doing smash box-office. So, FU, LB!

It all came tumbling down when HUAC invaded the industry with a vengeance. As an example of what I’m talking about, Garfield, Rossen, Polonsky, and costars Anne Revere and Lloyd Gough (here billed as “Goff”) were all blacklisted. The traumatic effect undoubtedly led to the young star’s death in 1951, at age 39.

Garfield was very careful and quite brilliant in choosing his collaborators. Polonsky, who would soon helm an even greater Garfield noir for Enterprise (Force of Evil), pulled out all the script stops, boldly going where no man (post-Code) had gone before. A sly gay liaison is inserted when the vicious mob kingpin, Roberts, introduces his slimy bodyguard. “He’s with me,” proudly mouths the gang boss…to which Charley nuzzles Peg and responds, “She’s with me.” Aside from those mentioned, BODY AND SOUL features the phenomenal James Wong Howe as cinematographer (the d.p. had earlier done a Metro boxing flick with Robert Taylor, where he filmed the fight scenes with a hand-held rig on roller skates – a feat repeated here !) appended by an excellent score from Hugo Friedhofer. Other noir participants flexed their muscles on BODY AND SOUL including future directors Robert Aldrich (as a.d), and Joseph Pevney (as a costar). Supporting Garfield up on the big screen were Lilli Palmer (outstanding as Peg), William Conrad (another top noir alumnus), Canada Lee, James Burke, Virginia Gregg, Milton Kibbee, Sid Melton, Cyril Ring, Tim Ryan, Art Smith, George Tyne, and the drop-dead gorgeous Hazel Brooks as slithery Alice (who does everything but shed her skin on-camera).

The recent 1080p platter of BODY AND SOUL looks and sounds sensational. It’s nice to know that the Enterprise library has been kept in fine condition.

BODY AND SOUL. Black and white. Full frame [1.33:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Olive Films/Paramount Home Entertainment. CAT #OF452. SRP: $29.95.

Court Date

FEBRUARY IS ALFRED HITCHCOCK MONTH

Perhaps the most problematic movie in Alfred Hitchcock’s American canon, 1947’s THE PARADINE CASE is now represented on High Definition Blu-Ray from the defense team at Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/ABC, Inc.

“Problematic” (for many) might be considered kind, as scores of the director’s enthusiasts term PARADINE as Hitchcock’s worst movie (Sir Alfred disagreed, citing 1933’s Waltzes from Vienna as the prime culprit). Truth be told, THE PARADINE CASE is not a bad movie, just not a great one. Hitchcock certainly did disown it for a variety of reasons. It was the last picture on his Selznick contract, a servitude he was particularly anxious to be rid of (Hitch had already begun proceedings with Sidney Bernstein to partner in their own production company, the initial title to be Rope). What made the picture a special kind of Hell was the fact that the oft intolerable David O. Selznick (who thought his very being as God’s gift to humanity) ultimately deigned his psyche the only one who could do justice to Robert Hichens’s scandalous novel (after rejecting James Bridie’s initial draft). Screenplay by the Producer heralds an especially bold in-your-face main credit. Selznick may have been many things, but a writer wasn’t one of them; the fact that his memos oft equaled the page numbers of Gone with the Wind doesn’t count. Hitchcock knew his name would be associated with the pic’s failings, so he and wife Alma (Reville) did work on the adaptation (and, reportedly, first draft). Even at the eleventh hour, it still didn’t pass muster, and an uncredited Ben Hecht (likely demanded by Hitchcock) was brought in to do a dialog touch-up.

The project itself was one of Hitch’s no-nos: a trial movie (albeit a lascivious one). Recent widow Maddalene Anna Paradine, an unabashed beauty, is arrested for the murder of her older, blind and fabulously wealthy husband – a British war hero. Her famed attorney, Sir Simon Flaquer, feels ill equipped to handle such a task, and suggests to her that she engage Anthony Keane, an iconic criminal trial barrister. Engage she does, as does he. The middle-aged master of his game, with full support of his stunning spouse, begins to do background checks on the lady and possible suspects – soon falling head over heels in love with her. The Hitchcock obsession theme surfaces here, as does his fear of police, depicted via Ms. Paradine’s first night in stir – an iron jail door clanging shut with a sound boost rivaling a bomb burst.

As Keane falls deeper into the darkness of forbidden love (along with some disturbing revelations about his client), he fights his anguish over the traumatic situation (he still loves his wife, and she him). Insult to injury, a mean girl verbal bitch slap by the accused to the smitten defense attorney in public court is genuinely devastating (for him and for viewers).

The production – one Hitchcock wanted to glide through – unfortunately, due to Selznick’s constant interference, seemed to go on forever (92 days!). Fans often display stills of Hitch’s frustration on-set, looking totally bored as underlining proof of his displeasure with the project. In actuality, Hitchcock often looked unimpressed during filming, considering it a mere formality; for him, the creative fun was in pre-production – planning out the shots in storyboard, and devising interesting (if not landmark) techniques for picture and sound.

But a constant hands-on Selznick involvement just made it worse. It began with the casting. Hitchcock and Selznick did agree on either Laurence Olivier or Ronald Colman for Keane, and Ingrid Bergman for the widow Paradine. Olivier and Colman were both busy on other pictures (Hamlet, A Double Life), and Bergman – at last free of her Selznick contract – rightly wanted nothing more to do with him. The producer decided to “discover” a new Bergman, and cast Italian actress Alida Valli in the role. A decent thesp, she nonetheless exhibited nothing of the passion Bergman could bring to the part. She’s a total ice princess – a demeanor that apparently spilled off screen into real life. LSS, she never caught on with Anglo audiences (save memorably in The Third Man, where, like in PARADINE, the cold detached persona sort of worked).

As for Keane, they went with gray-temple dyed Gregory Peck. Peck always chided this pic as a misfire, claiming he was way too young, even with the midlife crisis makeup. Plus, his lack of a British accent stuck out like a sore thumb. That said, he’s really very good in the part – enough so that these Peckish bumps rarely deter the narrative. Another no-show was Robert Newton, whom Hitchcock requested as the accused murderess’s illicit lover – a stable master, whom the director thought would immediately convince audiences of “a man [who] really reeked of manure.” This didn’t sit well with Selznick and Newton proved unavailable anyway, so the part was rewritten as a French-Canadian personal valet to Mr. Paradine, and became the debut of Louis Jourdan (who’s excellent in it).

The remainder of the cast is top line, and comprises Charles Coburn (as Sir Simon), Charles Laughton (as a sex pervert judge, salivating at Keane’s wife’s bare shoulders!),

Ethel Barrymore, Leo G. Carroll, Isabel Elsom, John Williams, Lumsden Hare, Lester Matthews, Edgar Norton, Joan Tetzel, and Ann Todd (the latter two deservedly capturing the plethora of the positive reviews in the overall lukewarm received final product).

That said, Selznick’s famous quote that there’s only “first class and no class” rings true as well. All the additional key positions on the pic are primo, including cinematography (Lee Garmes) and music (Franz Waxman). The producer, furthermore, pulled out all the promotional stops, primarily utilizing simultaneous big city first-run playdates (an unusual move at the time), and having the principals hawking an exceptionally large amount of movie tie-in consumer items.

Readers may be stunned to know that the flop result of THE PARADINE CASE didn’t entirely hover over poor attendance (actually, movie fans did turn out…just not enough). Amazingly, it ultimately cost as much to make as the producer’s Gone with the Wind. This encompassed a full-scale replica of the Old Bailey, at a 1947 cost of over $400,000.00 alone!

A lot of film was shot. A LOT. The first cut ran over three hours; Selznick chopped out a half-hour, then another twenty minutes, before finally releasing the general release 110-minute version. Viewers were a bit confused by preview cut critics who thought Ethel Barrymore warranted an Oscar (she received a nomination). Her finest moments, including drunken and psychotic emoting ended up on the editing room floor (reducing her total screen time to about three minutes). The chance of ever seeing the complete version literally sunk – a celluloid victim of a 1980 vault flood.

It’s, thus, astounding that any of THE PARADINE CASE makes sense, but it miraculously does. If one didn’t know it was a Hitchcock pic, one would hail it as a fairly entertaining racy highbrow post-war crime drama. Of course, as far as I’m concerned, there IS no such thing as a bad Hitchcock movie, with even the lesser examples being superior to most anything else out there.

This recently restored 1080p rendition of THE PARADINE CASE is wonderful, audio and video-wise. Even better, this is a 125-minute cut, and not the usual hour and fifty minute version that played in most theaters since 1947 (and then on television). A number of great audio extras include commentaries by Hitchcock authors Stephen Rebello and Bill Krohn, clips from the director’s 1966 interview with Francois Truffaut, plus a conversation between the director and Peter Bogdanovich. There’s also a 1949 radio adaptation featuring Valli, Jourdan, with Joseph Cotten, in the Peck role.

A “hey, why does everybody say this is so bad?” rediscovery, this edition of THE PARADINE CASE certainly at least rates an “oh, yeah, that one” spot on your Hitchcock/classic movie shelf.

THE PARADINE CASE. Black and white. Full frame ]1.33:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/ABC, Inc. CAT # K21522. SRP: $29.95.

Couples Terror-py

FEBRUARY IS ALFRED HITCHCOCK MONTH

One of the most bizarre comedies ever made, 1931’s RICH AND STRANGE certainly lives up to its title. Cherry on top: it’s directed by someone (whom at first glance) you’d least expect: Alfred Hitchcock.

We said “at first glance,” as, once one becomes acquainted with the leads and the plot, it’s very much a Hitchcock picture. Indeed, the director’s comedies are certainly weird enough to be categorized as Hitch and Strange, and we offer up as proof of evidence 1928’s The Farmer’s Wife and 1955’s The Trouble with Harry (with 1941’s Mr. and Mrs. Smith as the most sane of the bunch). This pic, scripted by the director, wife Alma Reville, and Val Valentine (from a novel by Dale Collins) provides viewers with an overview of the failing (due to boredom) marriage of the The Hills. He’s stuck in a mundane office job that the opening montage correctly pegs as lethally dull (think Vidor’s The Crowd as a wicked comedy). She’s trying to make ends meet by doing freelance seamstress work out of their barely middle-class digs. “The best place for us is the gas oven,” quips Fred to spouse Emily, quite seriously. She informs him that this might not be possible as the bill is past due.

Then, out of nowhere, news arrives that for a change is good. A cool, wealthy relative has decided that his nephew shouldn’t have to wait until he’s dead to enjoy a considerable inheritance.

With a hefty cash flow, the Hills kiss Britain goodbye, and embark on a posh vacation around the world. Where many pics would happily end here, this one begins – a freakish visual interpretation of the famed cliché “Don’t wish so hard for something.”

A cruise aboard a luxury liner is a delight for Em, but a nightmare for Fred, who spends most of the voyage cabin-bound with the worst case ever of mal de mer.

Whilst biding her time, Emily chances upon decent, upright (and up tight) Commander Gordon. Soon, her presence (and desires) unravel his veddy British values (you can practically hear the steel rod fall out of his butt and clank on deck). And an adulterous shipboard romance commences.

Fred, meantime, hasn’t been idle. Now over his seasickness, he becomes enamored of and with a vampy package of royalty, known only as The Princess. And an adulterous shipboard romance commences.

How each relationship progresses, rises, falls, and rises…makes up the remainder of RICH AND STRANGE in numerous adult ways (even a contemporary U.S. pre-Code would have difficulty competing with these protagonists and antagonists), some shocking, most of them witty. Hitchcock himself stated that the more humorous events of the trip, including the eccentrics encountered, often resembled his and Alma’s honeymoon (leave us not forget that “Fred” is not that far distanced from “Alfred”). The upshot is that RICH AND STRANGE became one of the director’s personal favorite works (along with The Trouble with Harry and Shadow of a Doubt). The sexual adventures perfectly meld with the big action set pieces – notably a jaw-dropping shipwreck that prefigures the finale of Foreign Correspondent. Did we mention Chinese pirates? They’re here, too. In fact, their participation in the narrative became one of Hitch’s snarky private beloved cinema moments: the hungry Hills scarfing down local cuisine, followed by a tanker’s captain stretching the skin of their adopted cat on the steamer’s wall.

The movie itself was a lavish affair, filmed in part on location in Port Said, Egypt. Two d.p.s, Jack Cox and Charles Martin handled the camerawork, with Adolph Hallis supplying the score. The cast is uniformly excellent, and features Henry Kendall as Fred, Joan Barry (who “dubbed” Anny Ondra in Blackmail) as Emily, Percy Marmont (as Commander Gordon), Betty Amann (as The Princess), and Elsie Randolph, Arty Ash, Aubrey Dexter, Hannah Jones, and Bill Shine completing the thesp lineup.

The unanticipated surprise of RICH AND STRANGE was its disastrous performance at the box-office, reportedly almost bankrupting BIP. Even the American release, publicizing the action over the comedy and sexual shenanigans, under the title East of Shanghai didn’t help. It tanked in the U.S. as well. British International, who praised the young director to the soundstage rafters now condemned him. His next assignment was Number 17, a sixty-minute potboiler done on the cheap. Hitch was then let go, a dumb move on BIP’s part, as he resounded with a bang via 1934’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, a mammoth hit for Gaumont-British that paved the way for his brilliant and phenomenally successful future.

I first saw RICH AND STRANGE in the 1970s on my local PBS station. I couldn’t understand the flak, as I loved it. Nice to know that, like Vertigo and Marnie – two other pics originally sloughed off in the States – it is now gaining momentum.

The Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Studio Canal rendition of RICH AND STRANGE is another of their terrific recent re-masters – this one hailing from a 4K restoration by the BFI. Extras include an audio interview with Hitch and Francois Truffaut, and a trailer gallery of other Hitchcock Kino releases.

An underrated black comedic travelogue, RICH AND STRANGE provides a superb movie experience for those who like their humor with a plethora of macabre twists.

RICH AND STRANGE. Black and white. Full frame [1.20:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Studio Canal. CAT # K25684. SRP: $24.95.

The Slay’s the Thing

FEBRUARY IS ALFRED HITCHCOCK MONTH

In the dead of night, two actresses are heard arguing, then there’s a scream. Police arrive, one woman is dead, the other in a trance and covered in blood Easy-peasy, case closed, right? Hell, no! This is Hitchcock month, so you know there’s gonna be a tantalizing labyrinth of movie thriller detours. And, so there are – beautifully restored in the recent Kino-Lorber/Studio Canal Blu-ray remaster of MURDER!

Released in 1930, shortly after the Master of Suspense made movie history with Blackmail, MURDER! arrived via a script by no less than Alma Reville (Mrs. Hitchcock), adapted by Walter Mycroft and Mr. Hitchcock from the play Enter Sir John by Clemence Dane (aka, Winifred Ashton) and Helen Simpson.

Diana Baring, the traumatized thesp in question, is holed up in the gaol whilst the conflicted jury decide her fate. Key amongst the twelve men and women is Sir John Menier, a celebrated actor/writer/producer. Although arguing for her acquittal, he is goaded by the group to vote “guilty,” a sequence that serves as a mini-12 Angry Men precursor…in reverse.

No sooner is Baring sentenced to death than Sir John has second thoughts. To rectify his haunting remorse, the knighted board-trodder initiates his own investigation, utilizing other members of theater companies, including the one the “murderess” was part of.

As indicated, the twisty narrative takes more turns than the L.A. freeway, as Sir John’s unorthodox methods reveal some lurid details about all involved, including multiple sexual liaisons and transvestism – which prove key to solving the mystery.

Taking the technical baton from Blackmail, Hitchcock further raises filmsound to a new level; MURDER! becomes the first movie to use stream of consciousness – not merely as a gimmick, but to guide its protagonist, ably portrayed by Herbert Marshall (his second talkie after costarring in the 1929 version of The Letter, opposite Jeanne Eagels; fun fact: he would also appear in the more famous 1940 Bette Davis remake, but in a different role), to the truth.

A number of eccentric characters (typical of Hitchcockian society) are sprinkled throughout the excellent cast, comprising Edward Chapman, Phyllis Konstam, Miles Mander, Esme Percy, Donald Calthrop, Esme V. Chaplin, Amy Brandon Thomas, Joynson Powell, S.J. Warmington, Marie Wright, Hannah Jones, Una O’Connor, and Norah Baring (as Diana…Baring)

While MURDER! is another fine restoration, especially in regard to the visuals of Jack Cox, the audio – so long nearly inaudible (thanks to decades of lousy pd copies) still tends to lean toward occasional muffled bass. It is nevertheless superior to any version yet made available (with the bacon-frying crackle all removed).

Admittedly not top-drawer Hitchcock, MURDER!, after more than 90 years, continues to fascinate due to its adult narrative, fine acting, and innovative cinematic expertise. Hitchcock admitted the lofty pic’s failings to Francois Truffaut in the French director’s landmark book-length interview: “…it was an interesting film and was quite successful in London. But it was too sophisticated for the provinces.” It also violated his preference for suspense over surprise; he actually hated whodunits (a la Agatha Christie), championing the “how” and “why” factors instead.

Extras include an alternate ending, and a Hitchcock/Truffaut audio clip. But the best supplement remains the rarest. Before dubbing and bottom-frame subtitles were a common thing, early talkies were filmed in a variety of languages, each encompassing an appropriate country cast. The general rule for this brief, expensive period was to shoot an English-language pic in German, French, Italian, and Spanish. Only one copy of the German version is known to exist. Entitled MARY, it is included on this disc with new English subtitles. What makes it important is that is was also directed by Hitchcock. Featuring an A-list Teutonic cast, MARY, made a year later, is actually more fluid in camera movement (also by Cox), demonstrating how quickly talking picture technology was improving. It is also more streamlined, coming in at 78 minutes, as opposed to MURDER!‘s 102 minute duration. Since this is likely the only surviving print, it is understandably nowhere near as pristine as MURDER! That said, it’s a unique and amazing experience in its own right.

The wonderful actor Alfred Abel essays the role of Sir John, with Paul Graetz, Lotte Stein, Ekkhard Arendt, John Mylong, Louis Ralph, Hermine Sterler, Frtiz Alberti, Else Schnunzel, and Julius Brandt in support; Anglos Esme Chaplin and Miles Mander reprise their roles from the 1930 pic. The title character, here called Mary Baring, while certainly a crucial part of the scenario, is not exactly a demanding part; this mirrors the British rendition by Norah Baring. She basically has to look shell-shocked, then quietly polite during her brief subsequent scenes in stir.

What makes the German interpretation of Baring stand out in MARY is the fact that the actress playing her is far more intriguing than the fictional woman. Olga Tschechowa portrays Mary, and she is not only one of cinema’s most notorious denizens, but world history’s. A liar, cheat, scoundrel, definitive femme fatale and possible spy, Tschechowa made Mata Hari look like Ma Perkins. Fleeing the Russian Revolution with her family in 1917 (after supposed teenage trysts with none other than Rasputin), Tschechowa landed in Berlin less than two years after the end of the Great War. Tschechowa’s gorgeous looks immediately found her work as a model, then an actress. She proved sensational in both, becoming famous in pictures like Murneau’s Haunted Castle (1921). Seemingly every man (and likely several women) wanted to bed her, most prominently rising political figure Adolf Hitler. After 1933, Hitler, Goering, and Goebbels were all romantically linked to her, with Der Fuhrer, not suprisingly, winning out (she became Queen of Reichstag film or what ever farkakte title they chose to bestow upon her). The fact that the true love of her life was ex-husband and iconic supporting actor/teacher Michael Chekhov (who ran off with another ravishing actress) proved problematic, as he was Jewish (he would play Ingrid Bergman’s mentor in Hitchcock’s 1945 classic Spellbound). While Tschechowa moved heaven and earth to keep their daughter safe, she nevertheless did little to prevent her other family members from being interred in concentration camps. Footage of her cavorting with Hitler at parties and theater galas became nauseatingly prevalent throughout the late 1930s. After the war, she claimed she was a double agent, an out given credence by her safe brief relocation into Berlin’s Russian zone. Still later, she was rumored to be Stalin’s lover before finally (after his demise) moving back to Germany, where she filmed movies and television shows sporadically up until her death in 1980. Her final words, uttered with a Cheshire cat smile on her face, were: Life is beautiful. Her beauty in MARY is undeniable, her story incredible. Hate to digress in a piece devoted to Hitchcock, but, truly, WTF!?

(TOP) Olga Tschechowa in Hitchcock’s MARY, and (BOTTOM) with her special pal at a German theater gala.

MURDER!/MARY. Black and white. Full frame [1.37: 1]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. English and German w/English subtitles. Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Studio Canal. CAT # K23904. SRP: $29.95.

Talking and Stalking

FEBRUARY IS ALFRED HITCHCOCK MONTH

As has been the case during the past few years, I hereby give myself a month-long birthday gift by celebrating Blu-Ray releases of my favorite director Alfred Hitchcock.

Some terrific choices on view for ’24, starting off with 1929’s BLACKMAIL (available through Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Studio Canal), Hitch’s first sound flick, and, equally important, the UK’s initial talking picture. So, yeah, a big prestige project for the British film industry, and (as usual) the already famed director didn’t disappoint.

With few ways to film a sound feature at his disposal, Hitchcock nevertheless discovered a myriad of methods to NOT make it a stodgy, stilted affair. There are many innovative and inventive uses of sound that work with the visuals, as opposed to the (then) rival output where image and audio seemingly competed against each other.

In BLACKMAIL, as scripted by the director along with Benn Levy and flicker fledgling Michael Powell (from a play by soon-to-be Hitchcock favorite Charles Bennett), we have an adult-themed story that could play virtually intact nearly a century later.

Alice White, a fun-loving young woman from a family of shopkeepers is dating the decent, but often dull police detective Frank Webber. She’s obviously striving for a more “hands on” relationship (and we mean that in every sense of the word); in 1920’s speak, she’d definitely be pegged as “a modern.”

Unbeknownst to Webber, Alice has caught the eye of a bohemian artist (he is never named). She fakes illness at a restaurant to cut a date short, then skips off with the bad boy…to see his etchings. Unbeknownst to Ms. White, Frank sees his gf and her “pal” happily vanish into the night.

At his flat, the artist convinces Alice to model for him in a sexy rig, which she does. The true intentions soon boil to a frenzy when the liaison rapidly turns into a rape. All does not go to plan for the sleazy painter, however, as the defiant woman grabs a convenient bread knife and just-as-conveniently puts a permanent end to the dirt bag’s predatory ways.

Unbeknownst (a key word in this movie) to her, Tracy, a cohort of the deceased’s, has been watching the events unfold from outside the artist’s digs, and quickly realizes a way to turn his voyeurism into an unending payday.

Traumatized by the events, the sexual assault victim staggers home, and retreats to bed – only to be awakened by the news of the brutal, local murder. Worse, boyfriend Frank has been assigned to the case – a bad situation made more unbearable by his discovery of one of Alice’s gloves at the crime scene.

His visitation to the White’s shop/apartment coincides with the blackmailer’s, and, thus, begins a riveting game of cat-and-mice. A smashing climax using the director’s penchant for landmark locations prefigures the Statue of Liberty in Saboteur and Mount Rushmore in North by Northwest, as BLACKMAIL wraps up during a thrilling chase through and atop the British Museum.

BLACKMAIL was a triumph on all counts, when released on October 6, 1929. The use of sound was prominently hailed as some of the best yet in cinema. And indeed it is. An opening wherein the detectives, led by Frank, capture and book a thief is a perfect, gripping intro.

Music and background sound is layered over the action footage, shot as a silent for fluidity. A bigger audio breakthrough comes later when a devastated Alice attempts to have a normal meal with her family. The usual small talk is muffled, with the exception of the oft repeated word “knife.”

Perhaps the most ingenious use of sound was done behind-the-scenes. Polish-French-Czech-Austrian-German actress/singer Anny Ondra (who had already proved herself admirably in the director’s 1928 stunner The Manxman) was cast as the veddy British Alice, but couldn’t get the proper linguistics right, hampered by her thick foreign accent. Contrary to Singin’ in the Rain‘s Debbie Reynolds or Downton Abbey: A New Era‘s Michelle Dockery, it was Hitch who came up with the first on-set dubbing session. Ondra mouthed English phonetically while British thesp Joan Barry spoke off camera into a mike. Crude by today’s standards, but a technical milestone in 1929.

The cast, supporting Ondra is quite wonderful, and comprises John Longden (as Frank), Cyril Ritchard (Broadway’s future celebrated Captain Hook, as the artist), Donald Calthrop (as Tracy), Percy Parsons (as the opening sequence’s crook), plus Charles Paton and Sara Allgood (as Alice’s parents), Hannah Jones, Harvey Braben, and actual ex-Det. Sgt. Bishop.

We must note that this recent 1080p restoration is another knockout – one of a series of outstanding UK Hitchcock remasters that Kino-Lorber has magnanimously bestowed upon us collectors. It looks and sounds aces. Top BIP cameraman Jack Cox (whom the director used frequently) would be proud. There’s even an original score (a rarity in this for a non-musical), composed by Jimmy Campbell, Reginald Connelly and Hubert Bath.

Numerous extras are accessible in this must-have two-disc set, including commentary by Tim Lucas, an audio Hitchcock interview with Francois Truffaut, and Ms. Ondra’s very inappropriate sound screen test, wherein Hitchcock quizzes the giggling actress about her sexual proclivities.

Best of all, however, are TWO additional cuts of the movie – one an intermediary version, and, another, the concurrently filmed shorter (78 minutes vs. 85 minutes) silent version – sadly maligned and ignored.

Naturally, on the outset, one would have little interest in a silent version of the first Hitchcock talking picture. But this is an incorrect assumption. It is, in many ways (other than the obvious), an entirely different experience. Of course, the iconic “knife” audio segment is absent, relying far more on Alice’s imagining London’s moving neon tableau of poured champagne transformed into stabbing kitchen ware. Most of all, without the prime factor of sound (save the new excellent score by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra), we focus more on the performances – specifically that of Ondra, whose psychological breakdown as a sexual assault victim is nothing short of realistic and first-rate. Without the silent version, one might wonder why they just didn’t cast a British performer, even with Ondra’s then-considerable credits. With the silent edition, it’s easy to see why. She’s a great actress, whose harrowing, touching, and deservedly angry portrayal remains a towering achievement that (IMO) few actresses could have ascended to in 1929, let alone 2024.

A peak example of dual silent and silent-to-sound transition filmmaking, BLACKMAIL merits a key spot on every collector’s shelf.

BLACKMAIL. Black and white. Full frame: [1.20:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Studio Canal. CAT # K23902. SRP: $29.95.

Billy the Kid, Part Two

The complete Nazi takeover, kicking what was left of the reasonable German populace in the teeth after the 1933 elections, prompted many a local astute observer of the human condition to realize that it was time to get out of Dodge. Young Billy Wilder, who had already proven himself as a rising UFA talent to be reckoned with, more than saw the writing on the wall – especially since it was written in blood. Desperately trying in vain to convince his parents to flee with him to safety (they pooh-poohed him, choosing not to believe the most severe of the horror stories floating through Deutschland and/or thinking the extremities of the new Party in power would boil over; both perished in the Holocaust), Wilder high-tailed it to France – a detour stopping off point for emigres seeking asylum in America. While awaiting for his ship passage to the States (it would take more than a year, and then he would be detoured again – this time in Mexico – until proper or improper channels could be convinced/connived for entry into the U.S.; a lion’s share of these experiences would be chronicled in his excellent 1941 screenplay, Hold Back the Dawn), Wilder hooked up with a plethora of other young filmmakers – writers, directors, composers, cinematographers, mostly, like himself, of German-Jewish origin…and they began a creative kaffeeklatsch. For Billy, this comprised his first official directing credit – the remarkable 1934 “action-comedy,” MAUVAISE GRAINE (Bad Seed), now part of a two-feature homage to the brilliant director/writer: FRENCH REVELATIONS, available in exceptional Blu-Ray restorations from Flicker Alley/Blackhawk Films.

As indicated, Billy Wilder did not spend his layover time in France idling around, MAUVAISE GRAINE being the physical result. Wilder, who shared codirecting duties with Alexander Esway, and, coscripting credits with Jan Lustig, Max Kolpe, and Claude-Andre Puget is nevertheless the one who truly shines here. Anyone familiar with his later, more celebrated work, will instantly identify the many Wilderisms liberally painted across this fetching cinematic canvas.

The plot focuses on Henri Pasquier, a pampered, rich kid (in his twenties), who pisses away money like a night in a beer garden. His one true love (well, aside from himself) is his custom-made deluxe automobile. And, yes, truth be told, it IS a doozy – a 1934 Doozy. Suffice to say, like anything else he touches, he carelessly wrecks it. He and his drunken buddies pull into a posh repair station and while there, the spoiled brat eyes another customer – the gorgeous Jeannette, who has likewise pulled up in a fancy-schmanzy ride with her sugar daddy. Henri immediately sidles up to her, and hits on the woman. “Is that your car?,” she asks. Yep, and there’s plenty more where that came from. They make a date, and M. Pasquier happily staggers home to get papa to write a check for the damage.

Alas, pater has had enough, and is cutting off junior from any further unnecessary expenditures. No repair money, in fact – no car. “Sell it!,” demands papa. “And think about getting a job.” This near-coronary-inducing turnabout causes the spoiled manchild to think about his future. Well, his future that afternoon. He wants to “date” Jeanette, and can’t show up without wheels – and glam wheels at that. So he decides to steal a car. Unfortunately, the luxurious sedan he chooses has been staked out by a professional den of auto-thieves, who track him to the romantic rendezvous. Jeanette is quite excited, until the gang descends upon them. Then, she’s ecstatic! You see, she’s part of the crook cartel – stealing high-priced cars and re-selling them. That sugar daddy Henri initially eyed the hottie with was her latest score. And the garage is their headquarters.

Rather than kill the schmuck, they weigh the pros and cons…especially the cons. Seems like he’s a good gang prospect, so the wily leader offers him a job. And the bum takes it.

Rooming with another young scoundrel – who turns out to be his Jeanette’s brother – makes him curb his lascivious verbal lust for the femme fatale whom he nonetheless now wants more than ever.

Do Henri and Jeanette ever get together? Will they see the light of their evil ways? And, if so, can they possibly escape the clutches of the greedy, villainous gang? These pressing questions and more are answered throughout the duration of this fast-moving delight’s 78-minute duration.

The early surprise of Jeanette’s identity is a moment that undoubtedly Phylllis Dietrichson would savor. It’s key Billy. Throughout his career, a Wilder rule on creating female characters was eloquently chiseled in his snarky mind: If She’s Not a Whore, She’s a Bore! He (reportedly) even had a banner heralding the phrase over his office desk.

The cast is perfect, and features Pierre Mingand (as Henri), and, in one of her first starring roles (in a career spanning nearly eighty years, until her death in 2017!), 17-year-old Danielle Darrieux. Supporting the two leads are Raymond Galle, Paul Escoffier, Michel Duran, Jean Wall, Marcel Maupi, Paul Vesla, and Gaby Hertier.

The dialog is often wonderful, the overall direction inventive and even unique. Critics rediscovering this gem have correctly pegged the POV moving camera in actual locations (including Paris and Marseille) a twenty-five-year precursor to the French New Wave movement. The cinematography itself is often stunning, a nod being in order to Paul Cotteret, Maurice Delattre, and Fritz Mandl. Add a sprightly score by Allan Gray and future maestro Franz Waxman (the latter also waiting for a visa) and all the ingredients for a fun movie ride are in place.

Although a disclaimer precedes the program apologizing for the quality of some of the 16MM dupe footage, there is really no need. The new 1080p High Definition master of MAUVAIS GRAINE is tiptop, in picture and sound. Audio commentary by UCLA Film Professor Jan-Christopher Horak is accessible as an extra, but die hard Wilder buffs will be more than elated to discover the joys of this diamond-in-the-rough for themselves.

As mentioned above while awaiting safe passage to America, Wilder was constantly keeping busy. When not actually working on a movie, he was enthusiastically checking out the competition – a practice also fervently utilized by Alfred Hitchcock. What was hot, what was selling, what was the next big thing?

Key to this strategic research was the 1935 French farce, FANFARE D’AMOUR (Fanfare of Love), an immensely popular musical comedy. The plot: two down and out musicians, on the verge of starving to death, make a drastic move by disguising themselves as women, and joining an all-girl orchestra. Sound familiar? The movie is a stunner, to be sure – and while certainly nowhere near the classic status of Some Like it Hot, does follow the Wilder mantra: take a good idea, make it better, and roll with it. Indeed, the plot and memory of this movie was reverberating in Wilder’s head since his early Paramount directing days, when he energetically pondered reworking this scenario for Hope and Crosby. But is Some Like it Hot an actual remake? Ardent film buffs who quizzed Wilder on it were met with verbal hostility. He seethed that he took a basic theme, and went entirely in a different direction. Outside of the gender bender, there were no similarities whatsoever. While not questioning Billy’s genius, he’s not exactly being honest.

The Hot segment where the orchestra travels to Florida by train is also in FANFARE (when the girls are booked at a more climate-friendly resort). While not as funny, there are some other Hot comparisons.

The Osgood character doesn’t exist in the French version; however, the male hotel booking agent does get the passion vibes for the Lemmon character, here called Pierre. It should also be mentioned that Pierre is a more vicious, vengeful and unpleasant reluctant drag queen. While he also wants to romance the Sugar character (aka Gaby), Pierre is also being pursued by her BFF, Poupette. Also Sugar herself (sorry, Gaby) has no real function, except to be beautiful (which, arguably, she is). There is no quirkiness, funny or endearing kooky quality about her. In short, she’s a bland mannequin. Most prominently, the great “danger” subplot – where the boys aren’t merely hungry – but targeted by murderous gangsters is totally absent, removing much of the comedic suspense, thrills, and entertainment.

The one main plus of FANFARE is additionally making the Tony Curtis character, Jean, a composer. This leads to an early montage, where before cross-dressing, the boys join various other combos, including a gypsy band, a Latin band, and a Black jazz band – all featuring ethnic variations of a tune he penned. Other than that, FANFARE can’t come anywhere close to Hot. And, at 115 minutes, it really does go on too long – another example where the gangster sidebar could have moved the narrative.

FANFARE D’AMOUR is breezily directed by Richard Poittier, and scripted by Robert Thoeren, Michael Logan, Max Bronnet, Pierre Prevert, and Rene Punjol. The stars were definitely engaging and comprised Fernand Gravey (as Jean), Betty Stockfeld (as Gaby), Julien Carette (as Pierre), Gaby Basset (as Poupette), and Madeleine Guitty, Pierre Larquey, Jacques Louvigny, Palau, Henri Vilbert, Jane Lamy, Adrienne Trenkel, and Irene De Strozzi. The sensation this pic made internationally put its male lead briefly on the Gravey train. His timing is excellent, both physically and in dialog delivery. He was snapped up by Hollywood, and tossed into dreary vehicles (The King and the Chorus Girl, Fools for Scandal) that gave him no opportunity to display either of these traits (his best known American appearance is probably in the bloated 1938 MGM musical bio-pic The Great Waltz, where he plays Johann Strauss).

Once again, the visual quality of FANFARE gets a disclaimer from Flicker Alley/Blackhawk Films. Once again, it really is unnecessary, as it looks and sounds (in French with English subtitles), just fine – giving Jean Bachelet’s photography and Joe Hajos’s score a nice picture-and-sound treat for Anglo viewers. Filmmaker August Ventura offers audio commentary, but again, I suggest checking this out for oneself to do the Billy pluses and minuses. I must once more reiterate that the legendary writer/director became apoplectic whenever this title was mentioned: “The genesis of the idea was a very low-budget, very third-class German picture, FANFARE OF LOVE…[The two male leads] dress up to go into a female band. But there was not one other thing that came from this terrible picture…Absolutely terrible. Deliriously bad.” A strange reaction, as Wilder isn’t even crediting the 1935 French original, but a 1951 German remake. LSS, the ’35 FANFARE is a pleasant diversion, while Hot remains an hilarious all-time masterpiece.

But don’t go by me, see for yourself. After all, nobody’s perfect.

FRENCH REVELATIONS. Black and white. Full-frame [1.37:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Flicker Alley/Blackhawk Films/ROAM. CAT # FF0005. SRP: $29.95.

Billy the Kid, Part One

In the annals of cinema, few names conjure up as many great movie-going experiences as “Billy Wilder.”

Indeed, his terrific body of work resides on a plethora of top critics’s and obsessed picture buffs’s pantheon of iconic classics. The titles are so famous that one needs not mention them. But there was a little known creative output paramount (without the capital “P”) to the German writer/director’s extraordinary career. We’re talking about the early days. In the 1920s, Billy was already sure where he wanted to go – in one instance memorably becoming Allan Dwan’s personal sight-seeing guide during the famed director’s trip to Germany (with young Billy devouring every anecdote and Hollywood tale the renowned filmmaker spun). In short, even then, Wilder lived, ate, and drank the movies. It’s no accident, therefore, that he aligned himself with other such addicts – young upstarts who were out to take the industry (both in Deutschland, and then America) by storm. Except they really did it.

In 1930, Wilder helped construct the narrative for a seminal Teutonic classic, People on Sunday (Menchen am Sontag). As good and innovative as this pic is, the behind-the-scenes credits dwarf the on-camera talent (aside from Wilder, the pic’s contributing writers and directors included Robert Siodmak, his brother Curt, Edgar G. Ulmer, and Fred Zinnemann).

UFA soon beckoned, and the boys (by this time whittled down to the Siodmaks and Billy (the latter destined to chalk up nearly twenty credits before escaping the Nazis after the 1933 takeover) once more collaborated on an amazing 1931 comedic suspense thriller, Der Mann der Seiner Morder Sucht – or THE MAN IN SEARCH OF HIS MURDERER, now on restored Blu-Ray from the archivists at Kino Classics, in conjunction with the F.W. Murnau Stiftung and Germany’s Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and Media.

The sourcework is quite impressive; the script by Billy, Curt Siodmak, and Ludwig Hirschfeld is loosely based upon a famed play by Ernst Neubach (Jim, der Mann mit der Narbe) – which, in turn, hailed from a story by no less than Jules Verne (Les tribulations d’un Chinois en Chine). Already, Wilder was quick to eschew the main crux of an existing project (did you see the word “loosely”?), take the ball of a good idea, and run with it. It proved to be inspired.

The plot concerns a likeable but unlucky and unremarkable man named Hans Herfort. Although firmly entrenched in the thriving middle class, the loner considers himself a loser. He is bored, unhappy, and simply worn out (even though he’s still in his late twenties). When Otto Kuttlapp, a burglar thinking Hans’s apartment empty, is discovered by its tenant, things become rather awkward. Otto ain’t seen nothing yet! Rife with morbidity, Herfort comes up with a plan to make his life finally exciting: his death. He offers to pay the stunned cracksman 10,000 marks (or more than $73K in American dollars today!) if he murders him. The act is to take place within the space of a certain amount of time, but without warning. The slightly creeped out outlaw first scoffs, but then at last agrees…before disappearing into the night.

A pseudo-giddy Hans decides to celebrate his good fortune by doing things he’s never done before, knowing his future is “secure.” He visits a popular nightclub, and parties on. Then, something incredible occurs. Among the nitery’s patrons, he meets Kitty, a beautiful, savvy woman who – can this be happening!? – clicks with the late bloomer. At last, life is worth living…but…uh-oh…

Realizing he’s doomed, Hans confides in Kitty as the pair desperately search for Kuttlapp – hoping, if they do indeed find him that they can convince the assassin to cancel the contract (a proviso was “no matter what I tell you – even if I change my mind – you can’t renege”).

One can easily see the appeal of this seamless combination of suspense and black comedy – and how director Siodmak (The Killers, Criss Cross, The Crimson Pirate) and writer Wilder (Double Indemnity, Sunset Boulevard, The Apartment) perfectly melded various narrative styles to create a totally unique hunk of celluloid – one that would define their later Hollywood masterpieces.

The excellent cast is headed by the legendary actor/comedian Heinz Ruhmann, a name likely unfamiliar to American audiences. Nevertheless, he was a major star in Europe during the early 1930s. My parents loved him, and were particularly thrilled when he turned up in a big-budget English-language flick, Stanley Kramer’s 1965 all-star epic Ship of Fools (I was excited to finally see him, and he was genuinely sympathetic and even endearing in it). Supporting Ruhmann is the gorgeous actress Lien Deyers (as Kitty), Raimund Janitschek (Otto), plus Hans Leibelt, Hermann Speelmans, Gerhard Bienert, Franz Fielder, Erbenhard Mack, and Greta Keller.

Featuring striking camerawork by Otto Becker and Konstantin Irmen-Tschet (with sets and lighting that volley between Caligari Expressionistic and a chiaroscurio precursor of the film noir look), and a score by the wonderful Friedrich Hollaender (who, like in Wilder’s A Foreign Affair, appears in a small role), THE MAN IN SEARCH OF HIS MURDERER provides viewers with a rollicking, rewarding way to spend an hour.

The Kino Classics/Murnau 2013 restoration of THE MAN IN SEARCH OF HIS MURDERER looks and sounds pretty nifty albeit on the grainy side – perfectly understandable considering its history. Originally clocking in at 97 minutes, this surviving aborted 53-minute remaster (in German with optional English subtitles) surprisingly remains smooth despite the loss of more than a third.

With comedy (including slapstick) and danger anticipating the young co-author’s Some Like it Hot, THE MAN IN SEARCH OF HIS MURDERER offers classic movie fans a superb Billy Wilder primer.

To be continued next week.

THE MAN IN SEARCH OF HIS MURDERER. Black and white. Full frame (1.33:1; 1080p High Definition). 2.0 DTS-HD MA. German w/optional English subtitles. Kino Classics/F.W. Murnau Stiftung/The Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and Media. CAT # K25361. SRP: $29.95.

Here’s Scum’s Mr. Jordan

With patriotism on the home front literally being an issue in 2024 America, it’s appropriate to see a 1940s version, when Nazis had to be imported for us to be attacked on our own turf. Nothing underlines this more than the strange but enjoyable 1942 thriller LUCKY JORDAN, now on Blu-Ray from the gung-ho gang at Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Universal Studios.

A weird hybrid of wartime entertainment, gangster flick family values, junior G-man Hitchcockian suspense, film noir, and black comedy, LUCKY is lucky enough to have Alan Ladd in the title role. Taking the baton from his earlier triumph, This Gun for Hire, the pic that catapulted him to stardom, LUCKY – while nowhere near as important to cinema as its predecessor – reunites him with his Hire power director Frank Tuttle, and gives us a script by Karl Tunberg and Daniel Ware (from a story by Charles Leonard).

Lucky Jordan is a New York City mob kingpin, known for his ruthlessness and penchant for extreme retribution (early on he hires an innocent as a well-paid decoy who immediately is assassinated, much to LJ’s satisfaction). Yup, he’s not the most likeable guy (and, again, nowhere near as sympathetic as his Raven in Hire), but he is feared. And that’s what’s important.

Nothing less than World War II throws a monkey wrench into his organization, when he’s drafted as a buck private. Desperate to cheat his way out of serving, his criminal legal sources offer a solution: apply for deferment by claiming you have a dependent parent. “Get me some!,” he demands as the gangland scours Manhattan for a suitable pathetic mater (and finds one in drunken wretch Annie).

It doesn’t quite work, and Jordan is sent to boot camp, where the manicured hooligan’s disobedience (comprising a lion’s share of the pic’s comic hijinks) causes him to spend much of his hitch in the brig. But it’s not without its perks; using his newly-employed “mother” as bait, Private Jordan attempts to pity-seduce gorgeous WAC Jill Evans (Paramount’s new star/starlet du jour Helen Walker). Savvy enough to be on to him, Jill is nevertheless freaked out by her obvious attraction to the thug. What a conundrum!

Having finally had enough of army life, Jordan hijacks a sedan and goes AWOL – soon discovering that the vehicle belongs to a high-brow traitor whose attache case is loaded with stolen Top Secret documents. Jordan, being the stalwart American he is…oh, the Hell with that – he realizes that a pretty penny can be made by taking over the deal and sets out to sell the papers to the Nazis himself. This wrong turn further gets twisted by Lucky’s discovery that the enemy spy ring’s go-between is none other than his own right arm, the unscrupulous Slip Moran (a particularly slimy Sheldon Leonard).

More complications (and personal conflict) ensue when Jill decides keep on Jordan’s trail, hopefully ultimately reforming him (Ladd’s character mercifully does see the light, much like Humphrey Bogart in All Through the Night and Ward Bond in the low-rent Hitler: Dead or Alive; yep, Nazis vs gangsters was briefly a viable sub-genre).

Women indeed are the key to Lucky’s transformation: the affection of a loving partner (who happens to be smoking hot), and old Annie, who actually becomes Jordan’s surrogate mom – especially touching his heartstrings after he finds her near death, the result a brutal SS-style beating by Gestapo agents.

It all ends up on a lavish Long Island estate – in reality a hotbed for Nazis posing as horticulturists (hotbed in a hot house?).

It’s hard to make someone so obviously nasty and mercenary a hero – and even with the Ladd charm, it’s still a sore point in the flick. Leonard’s thoroughly evil impersonation helps salve that difference – bolstered immensely by Ladd’s insistence on authenticity in the graphic violence confrontation arena. Aiding and abetting this is the remaining supporting cast including Mabel Paige (as “Ma”), Marie McDonald, Lloyd Corrigan, Dave Willock (as the poor decoy patsy), John Wengraf, Miles Mander, Clem Bevans, Anthony Caruso, Virginia Brissac, Kitty Kelly, Fred Kohler, Jr., John Hamilton, Kirk Alyn, Sara Berner, Carol Hughes, and (if you look quick), Dorothy Dandridge.

The movie was a sensation back in 1942 spilling over into 1943, and secured Ladd’s position as a new screen superstar. Paramount rushed the pic through production to guarantee another 1942 Ladd title (his third, following Hire and a remake of The Glass Key) for the holidays; it premiered shortly before Thanksgiving).

Fond LUCKY memories from Forties picture-goers cemented its shoo-in for frequent screenings on TV during the 1960s. I recall it playing constantly on WNEW Channel 5, here in NYC. I also remember the murky, dull look of the film (accent on the word “film”). Decades later, I was excited to see it listed on TCM’s schedule; alas, the copy hailed from one of those awful gray original 16MM television sources.

Well, here’s some cause for celebration; this 2023 Kino-Lorber 1080p master has been struck from a new 2K scan, using the original 35MM fine grain. It looks and sounds grand – so, yay, to finally being able to appreciate the great John Seitz’s terrific cinematography (nicely appended by Adolph Deutche’s excellent score).

A SIDEBAR: My good pal Will Hutchins once told me a wonderful story regarding this movie. He had just been cast as the lead in the sitcom Hey, Landlord (1966), created and written by Jerry Belson and Garry Marshall – alumnus of The Dick Van Dyke Show. On the first day of shooting (in front of a live audience), Belson, Marshall and fellow Van Dyke director Jerry Paris were flanked by a small surprise visiting contingent, comprising Van Dyke, (now) producer Sheldon Leonard, and others. Despite their seeming rather grim and detached about the project, Will couldn’t resist the opportunity to approach Leonard, a man he admired as a character actor in the movies and on radio. “Mr. Leonard,” he quietly said, “I have to tell you that one of the great movie experiences of my childhood was watching you and Alan Ladd mix it up in Lucky Jordan.” All of a sudden the emotional climate changed, and Leonard, beaming from ear-to-ear, put his arm around Hutchins and proudly stated “You know what made that fight work?” Will shook his head, followed by Leonard jabbing his thumb hard into his own chest, and responding, “It was the way I could take it!”

LUCKY JORDAN. Black-and-white. Full frame [1.37:1; 1080p High Definition]. 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Universal Studios. CAT # K26215. SRP: $24.95.

Best of the Best ’23

Yikes, it’s that time of the year again – the moment when Supervistaramacolorscope chooses the top DVDs, Blu-Rays, and 4K discs from the past twelve months.

As usual, it’s a tough decision to make; sadly, the platter industry is now more famine than feast. That said, the (sorta) good news is: less product, but better titles.

Truth be told, the home vid companies/studios never quite grasp the mind of a collector – many of whom will never rely (or wholly rely) on streaming. Collectors want to physically OWN movies/TV shows. It’s an addiction, and I admit I’m a junkie. I predict that the decision to cut back on discs will eventually blow up in the faces of the fat-cats, specifically the spillover into such nationwide franchises as Best Buy – whose P.R. department proudly heralds that 2024 will be the end of their carrying physical movie/TV software (both in-store and on-line!). Adding to this debacle, streaming services are beginning to drop many classic and cult titles from their roster – depending more upon recent direct-to-vid pics and the newest blockbusters. I figure fairly soon the collectors will rise up, so to speak…demanding representation. The dormant archived movies will make a platter return. I suspect the sidebar format of 3-D pics will also experience a resurgence. Okay, so maybe this is all hopes and dreams, wishful thinking…but perhaps not. They’re a lot of pissed off collectors out there; trust me, I hear from them every day. As for the Best Buy fiasco, it won’t be merely a mammoth example of bad decision-making, but a Krakatoa in-their-face apocalypse. Why? ‘Cause collectors are loyal to a fault. You cut us off from owning movies, and we’ll take our business elsewhere (INSERT gargantuan online source HERE). We’re not simply talking DVDs, Blu-Rays and 4K UHD; soon, we’ll be ready to upgrade our big screen TVs, sound systems, computers…and maybe even non-home vid appliances, like refrigerators or washing machines. See where this is going? Bye-bye, Best Buy.

But enough with the doom and gloom stuff.

2023 still gave us a plethora of wonderful platters. Here are my favorites:

Westerns and American outdoor sagas have always been a big lure for collectors, and 2023 gave us a trio of nuggets: Anthony Mann’s 1953 masterpiece THE NAKED SPUR (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/01/31/sigmund-ford/), Henry Hathaway’s 1941 Technicolor remake of SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS (John Wayne’s first color pic, https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/05/16/wizard-of-ozark/), and Fritz Lang’s IB debut, 1940’s RETURN OF FRANK JAMES (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/05/09/yellow-cyan-magenta-is-the-new-black/).

Comedies, particularly of the classic kind, never looked better than on restored Blu-Rays, and last year gave us some pips: two W.C. Fields titles – one of his rare silents, RUNNING WILD and the unofficial sound remake THE MAN ON THE FLYING TRAPEZE (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/01/10/dreams-of-fields/). A pair of his best, and both looking great!

Fields’s Paramount competition (and, indeed, someone oft called his comedic nemesis), Mae West, also made a stunning Blu-Ray dip in the pool with all three of her pre-Code titles released in striking new HD remasters: NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, I’M NO ANGEL, and SHE DONE HIM WRONG (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/12/19/pre-code-mae/).

Thrillers are always a collectable way to go, and no one best defines cinematic suspense than Alfred Hitchcock. While ANY title of his is worthy, one in particular grabbed our attention: the rare, underrated 1949 Technicolor drama UNDER CAPRICORN (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/02/21/love-is-where-you-bind-it/), looking superb and loaded with the director’s key themes.

Next to horror, film noir is the genre we most crave, and, while many domestic entries came our way, a cache from France – the country that coined the term – descended upon us like manna from hard-boiled heaven. The FRENCH NOIR COLLECTION (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/07/25/rues-merchantes-sil-vous-plait/), Henri-Georges Clouzot’s QUAI DES ORFEVRES (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/07/11/cynics-sinning-cinema/), Claude Chabrol’s THE THIRD LOVER (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/08/08/thrice-the-harm/), and Jean-Pierre Melville’s LE DOULOS (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/08/22/honor-among-thieves-not/)

and UN FLIC (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/08/29/misty-watercolored-frenemies/) gave us noiristas something to crow about.

Silent movies are always welcome, especially when restored to perfection from pristine 35MM sources. Two late period 1928 British titles (from then-newbie Anthony Asquith), SHOOTING STARS and UNDERGROUND (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/04/25/accelerated-asquith-acquiescence/), each featuring Brian Aherne, arrived with their jaw-dropping adult themed content nearly as astounding as the visual quality!

And speaking of adult-themed drama, few early Sixties classics can match the courtroom triumph of 1961’s all-star JUDGMENT AT NUREMBERG (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/06/06/trial-of-tears/), looking and sounding terrific in 1080p.

As indicated, horror is the most collectable genre, and some doozies invaded our media rooms in ’23.

The original complete OUTER LIMITS series (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/10/30/there-is-nothing-wrong-with-your-television-set/) – two seasons, sold individually – remains supreme in the pantheon of classic television, with its terrifying supernatural aspects seamlessly blended with first-rate sci-fi.

Two obscure Paramount titles conclude our must-have list – the rarely-seen but genuinely frightening DOUBLE DOOR, a late pre-Code from 1934 (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/evillainess/), and the psycho-ghoul B+ Southern Gothic AMONG THE LIVING, from 1941 (https://supervistaramacolorscope.wordpress.com/2023/10/21/sib-fib/).

Looking forward to 2024, he said, cautiously optimistic (and not just in regards to collecting).

Get a Room!

A raucous 1950 all-star gathering, KEY TO THE CITY arrives on DVD-R from the politicos at The Warner Archive Collection.

A reteaming of Clark Gable and Loretta Young, first paired on-screen in 1935’s Call of the Wild (a title that proved prophetic; the duo hooked up offscreen, releasing their own indy production nine months later, love child Judy Lewis, the worst-kept secret in Hollywood), the two – not surprisingly – exhibit amiable chemistry together. Gable, playing his usual tough good guy role contrasts nicely against ridiculously prim and pious (apparently a reel/real life impersonation) Loretta. The premise is a San Francisco-held national convention of America’s mayors, with Young’s small town New Englander Clarissa Standish, being the sole female representative. Almost immediately, the two stars meet cute (he thinks she’s his arranged date…with benefits), with Gable’s longshoreman-turned-politician Steve Fisk’s lusty persona clashing with Clarissa’s antiquated 19^th century family values.

As a post-war “adult” comedy, the script by Robert Riley Crutcher (from Albert Beich’s story) goes places most Hollywood fare (especially those coming out of MGM) would never dare to go. The dialog and jaw-dropping situations (for example, Gable’s lover – Miss Atomic Bomb, a fan-dancer whose balloons spontaneously combust, and a Chinese restaurant free-for-all wherein Young’s comments incorrectly imply her sexually taking on the politician’s male counterparts) are fairly risque and hilarious. One, in particular, still shocks for getting by the censors: prepping for a mayoral costume party, Young dresses up as a little girl, while a bare-legged pervy raincoat-adorned Gable (he accidentally locks himself out of his hotel room) follows the woman into nighttime Frisco in hopes of sharing a cab. Passersby assume he’s a pedophile (an idea Young encourages), and soon a cop corners the “predator.” The circumstances become more heated with the subsequent accusation that Young is a prostitute role-playing with her john on public street, and the pair are hauled off to the pokey. I suppose one might envision this as a pre-Code movie made in 1950; actually, it’s more like a forerunner of the double entendre Rock Hudson/Doris Day flicks that would end the decade (in pre-Code nothing is mistakenly assumed or insinuated, it’s the real deal).

Young’s constant preaching morality, counterbalanced by Gable’s knowingly smirking at her every move, provides a great deal of the fun – sort of like an in-joke for the folks in the Biz. I mean, if anyone could validate the fact that the farmer’s daughter was full of it, Rhett could…and he seems to be enjoying every minute of this pic; no doubt, Loretta’s infamous swear jar was filled many times over during the filming (some of it on-location in SF).

The cast is chock full of scene-stealers, some in their last hurrah stage, including Metro’s own Frank Morgan (as Gable’s right hand man), and Lewis Stone (as Young’s elder relation, a – what else? – stolid and stodgy judge; yet, even this gets a Fifties redux, as it’s the most lascivious we’ve ever seen the head of the Hardy family, privately wishing his beauteous kin would drop her panties!). Other terrific thesps include character actor master Raymond Walburn, James Gleason, Pamela Britton, Clinton Sundberg, Marion Martin, Bert Freed, Emory Parnell, Clara Blandick, Peter Brocco, Wheaton Chambers, Chick Chandler, Jack Elam, James Flavin, Dorothy Ford, Byron Foulger, Richard Gaines, Frank Ferguson, Ed Gargan, Alex Gerry, Marvin Kaplan, Stuart Holmes, Joi Lansing, William Phipps, Barry Norton, Charles Smith, Buddy Roosevelt, Pierre Watkin, Dick Wessel, Frank Wilcox, Victor Sen Yung, and, as Miss Atomic Bomb (aka Sheila), Marilyn Maxwell.

It’s the direction, script and additional casting that presents viewers with the weirdest aspect of KEY TO THE CITY. George Sidney, who climbed MGM’s ladder from helming short subjects to such Technicolor smashes as Anchors Aweigh and The Harvey Girls takes on the wink-wink comedy with gusto. It’s, thus, a real head-scratcher as to why deep into the narrative, we’re introduced to Gable nemesis Les Taggart, a very imposing, sinister Raymond Burr – still in his peak villainous period. At once, the pic flips from bawdy comedy to film noir, right down to a brutal one-on-one fight scene between Gable and Burr that would more appropriately belong in an Anthony Mann flick (ending by the antagonists realistically attacking each other with grappling hooks). Remarkably, this violent mean street detour doesn’t impact the expected finale.

The DVD-R of KEY TO THE CITY looks pretty good, albeit a bit grainy. While Harold Rosson’s excellent black-and-white cinematography would certainly benefit from a Blu-Ray upgrade/restoration, it’s doubtful that will occur anytime soon. The audio, however, is excellent, and features a nice boisterous score by Bronislau Kaper (which includes a revisit to the composer’s title theme to Gable’s 1936 blockbuster, San Francisco).

A decent indecent romcom, KEY TO THE CITY works due to the high-octane fuel of its star power, and even offers some astute asides about political corruption, still – if not more – prevalent today!

KEY TO THE CITY. Black-and-white. DVD-R. Full frame [1.37:1]. Mono audio. The Warner Archive Collection. SRP: $12.99.