The Public Enemy (1931) **

What an apt title for the film that eventually brought us the Hays Production Code. Too bad Chuck D, Flav, and Terminator X weren’t around to help directors “Fight the Power” in the 30s…then again, I can’t imagine them having much say in an atmosphere where overt racism could still pass censors. Oh, the ironies of Hollywood!

William Wellman directed this penultimate gangster film starring James Cagney as amoral thug Tom Powers. Based on the John Bright and Kubec Glasman novel, Beer and Blood, the film was a huge success for Warner Brothers and made James Cagney a star (it also typecast him for several years). The film bears many similarities with the lives of real-life Chicago gangsters Hymie Weiss, Nails Morton and Deanie O'Banion—though Warner was careful to say the names and characters of the film were purely fictional. It is perhaps the most important gangster film ever made, as it went on to influence countless directors in the gangster-film genre, most notably Francis Ford Coppola.

The story begins in 1909 South Side Chicago and introduces us to the life of Tom Powers (James Cagney). The son of an abusive policeman (Purnell Pratt), Tom is a juvenile delinquent and petty thief, along with his pal Matt Doyle (Edward Woods). Both boys admire a local criminal, Putty-Nose (Murray Kinnell), who hangs out at the Red Oaks Club. As the boys grow older Putty-Nose introduces them to more advanced crimes and gets them involved in an armed robbery at the Northwestern Fur Trading Company. When a nervous Tom shoots a stuffed bear’s head, he alerts a policeman to the scene and the cop kills a thief by the getaway car. Tom retaliates and shoots the cop, but not before Putty-Nose deserts them. This is where Cagney calls him a “dirty, no-good, yellow-bellied stool!" and vows to take revenge.

A few years later Tom and Matt, now truck drivers, team up with saloon owner Paddy Ryan (Robert Emmett O'Connor) and when Prohibition hits in 1920 they become bootleggers. In one memorable scene they use their gasoline delivery truck to drain impounded beer from a government warehouse. This heist gives them a taste of what big money can buy: flashy clothes, fast cars, and even faster women, like Mamie (Joan Blondell) and Kitty (Mae Clarke). They eventually hook-up with local crime boss Nails Nathan (Leslie Fenton) and start making booze and selling it (forcefully, if necessary) to speakeasies.

Meanwhile, Tom’s older brother Mike (Donald Cook), a wounded WWI vet, returns home to find Tom hasn’t done such a good job of staying out of trouble and has been lying to their Ma (Beryl Mercer) about where he gets his money. At his welcome home dinner, with a huge keg of beer donated by Tom, Mike calls his younger brother out in front of Ma, calling him a murderer. This causes Tom to leave home for good.

The next morning we find Tom in a very bad mood. This sets up one of the most memorable scenes in film history. When girlfriend Kitty talks back to him at breakfast he shoves a grapefruit into her face. Apparently, this was his way of saying their relationship was over. He soon finds a new one in Gwen Allen (Jean Harlow). He takes her to Matt and Mamie’s wedding reception, where he spots the double-crossing Putty-Nose. Later, he and Matt follow him and after making Putty plead for his life on hands and knees, Tom cold-bloodedly shoots him point blank.

Though he avoids his brother like the Plague, Tom tries to give his Ma money, but she refuses. When Mike returns home, he tells Tom they don’t need his “blood money” and punches him in the face. Though it is safe to assume that Tom is a sociopath, I find it interesting that when his brother hits him he doesn’t retaliate. I do, however, always find it entertaining to watch him rip the money in half and throw it in his brother’s face—I think this sends more of a message.

You add this complicated familial relationship with the strange one he has with Gwen, and you can see why he becomes unhinged. To say that Jean Harlow’s Gwen is the epitome of a Flapper doesn’t go far enough. Her aloofness combined with her overt sexuality is enough to drive any man crazy, and Tom didn’t need any help. For his own sanity, he decides to leave her forever when he learns that Nails has been killed in a riding accident. In a scene that reminds me of both The Godfather and The Sopranos, Tom buys the horse that killed Nails and then kills it.

Nails’ death leads to a gang war with their rival Schemer (appropriate name if I ever heard one), and Paddy’s bar is bombed and the brewery burned down. The gang goes into hiding with an old whore named Jane (Mia Marvin). When Tom gets drunk she seduces him and then taunts him with this fact the next morning. Repulsed, Tom, with Matt in tow, leaves the safety of the apartment, not knowing that Schemer’s gang has machineguns outside. Matt is killed and Tom swears vengeance. After stealing two 38s from a pawnshop, Tom walks through the rain to Schemer’s hideout and in a bone-chilling scene, kills the entire gang, while incurring several deadly wounds himself. He stumbles from the building and lands appropriately in a rain-soaked gutter.

After being found he is taken to the hospital, where he has the chance to tell Mike and Ma that he’s sorry and he’s going straight. Later, Tom is kidnapped from the hospital by rivals. In a sick twist of irony, someone calls his relieved Ma and tells her he’s on his way home. When the doorbell rings, Mike answers it to find a bullet-ridden and gift-wrapped Tom dead at the door. What a way to end a film!

In 1931, with Prohibition still lingering and the Depression marching on, this film forced audiences to examine why boys like Tom and Matt turned to crime. Yes, it is a gangster film, but it is also a social conscience one as well. What are the roots of crime? No one is born a criminal. The famous last line of the film: “The Public Enemy is, not a man, nor is it a character--it is a problem that sooner or later WE, the public, must solve,” is telling. Of course, it’s 2010 and this problem still hasn’t been solved, but through films like this and more recent ones like Precious, the viewer sees a world in which that may not be familiar and learns something.

James Cagney was electrifying in this performance. It’s easy to see why he was typecast for so long after this film, because he plays a sadistic sociopath very well. I also think Jean Harlow and Mae Clarke do nice jobs in their roles as his girlfriends. While Harlow is more remembered that Clarke in this film, I think her reactions in the grapefruit scene are priceless.

As for the story itself, it is compelling on many levels. It’s difficult for viewers today to believe that people behaved like this in the 1920s, but most of what happened in this film can be tied back to real-life occurrences. It’s sort of a time capsule to the age of Prohibition and speakeasies. Of course, I have a hard time figuring out why this film was so shocking to would-be censors, as most of the violence takes place off-screen. Perhaps the realism of the film made them uneasy. Who knows.

In any case, this a good film. It is one of Cagney’s best performances and it is historically relevant. In addition, it had a significant impact on the development of the gangster film genre.

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City Lights (1931) **

I suppose Charlie Chaplin had never heard the adage “silence is deadly” before 1931. He soon heard it from Academy voters when it came time to nominate the best films for that year. It would seem that people were a bit testy that some British chap didn’t want to showcase his wonderful accent and prove to everyone that the most famous actor in the world wasn’t too big for talkies. He was.

Many critics view City Lights as Chaplin’s greatest film. I don’t agree with this assessment, as my choice falls on Modern Times, but it is one of his best productions. He was involved in all elements of the production: direction, editing, music, and screenplay. To say that Chaplin was an all-around gifted artist would be an understatement.

I’m not sure, but I suspect that the opening scene was all Academy voters needed to see before making their minds up about this picture. Using kazoos and other irritating noises as voices most probably didn’t go over well. Whatever may be the case, we find the Little Tramp sleeping in a just unveiled statue at the start of this film. The on looking crowd is aghast—he has sullied the purity of the statue! When he tries to remove himself from the statue he finds himself hooked, by the back of his pants, to a sword. In a comic turn of events, he has to listen to the “Star Spangled Banner” (hat off, in respect of course) while in this unpleasant position.

Later, we find the Tramp trying to elude a motorcycle cop by entering and exiting a parked limo. This is where he first encounters the blind and beautiful flower girl (Virginia Cherrill). She seems to know the sound of a slamming limo door, and so she assumes he’s a rich man and offers him a boutonniere. He pays for it with his last coin and pretends to leave. While she goes on with her flower duties he watches her. In a bit of anti-stalker justice, she throws her dirty bucket of water on him.

Next, we meet the besotted and depressed millionaire (Harry Myers) as he’s trying to drown himself in the river. The Tramp tries to dissuade the man from this and finds himself accidentally caught in the rope and pulled into the river. Eventually both men rescue one another and the millionaire names the Tramp his friend for life. The millionaire invites the Tramp back to his mansion and they drink a champagne toast to their newfound friendship. Too bad the millionaire becomes depressed again when he learns his wife is divorcing him. Again he tries to off himself, via revolver this time, but the Tramp stops him and they decide to go out for a night on the town. Many outlandish things occur, most notably the Tramp setting a lady’s dress on fire with a cigarette butt and then putting the fire out with seltzer water. Of course, what most people remember about this part of the film is the spaghetti-confetti sequence. Trying to eat his spaghetti, the Tramp takes confetti strings for strings of pasta. And so he sucks and sucks and sucks some more trying to find the end of the noodle—perhaps this is where the Olive Garden got its idea for the endless pasta bowl?

After a perilous ride back to the mansion, the millionaire gives the tramp his Rolls Royce. When he sees the flower girl he gets the millionaire to loan him money to buy flowers. He catches up with her and pays $10 for her entire basket and then drives her home in the Rolls. She is convinced he’s a millionaire and he doesn’t try to change her opinion. When he returns to the mansion the millionaire is sober, but can’t remember the Tramp and he’s thrown out. Don’t worry, the millionaire is soon drunk again and the two reunite and a party is thrown in the Tramp’s honor. Yet, when they wake up the next morning together in bed, the Tramp is kicked out again. This seems like some sort of sick booty call ritual, doesn’t it?

After learning that the flower girl is ill, the Tramp decides he will find the money to pay for a doctor to help her. With the money he earns as a street cleaner, he takes food to her. On one of these trips he reads a newspaper article about an eye specialist who can cure blindness. The girl is overjoyed, the Tramp is a bit anxious. When he is fired for returning late to work the Tramp sees an advertisement for making “easy money” outside a boxing arena. Believing he’s in a fixed fight, the Tramp agrees to a $50 winner takes all match. The problem is his opponent is changed from a lightweight to a muscle-laden beast (Hank Mann). The fight sequence is the best part of the film. It is a masterfully (and hilariously) choreographed. Watching the Tramp dance around the ring, hide behind the referee, and duck at the last moment to avoid punches is an extreme pleasure. You combine these antics with the ring bell gag and you find yourself hurting from laughing so much. Alas, in the end, the Tramp is knocked out cold—no $50 for the operation.

Trying to figure out what to do next, the Tramp happens upon the millionaire again. He’s drunk, so naturally he recognizes the Tramp and invites his friend back to the mansion. When the millionaire learns about the girl he gives the Tramp $1,000. Unfortunately, robbers are stationed in the house and knock the millionaire out. Yet, they don’t take the money from the Tramp. When he calls the police he is viewed as a thief—especially with $1,000 in his pocket. Again, when the millionaire wakes up he doesn’t recognize the Tramp and accuses him of theft. The Tramp runs out with the money and later gives it to the blind girl. He tells her he’s going to be gone for awhile and then leaves—all the while she still thinks he’s a millionaire. The police pick him up and he gets 9 months in prison.

When he returns he finds the blind girl’s sight has been restored. She gets to watch and laugh as newsboys taunt him. In a moment of regret, she offers him a white rose to replace a wilted flower he picked up in the gutter. When she presses a coin into his hand she recognizes his touch. In a very emotional scene, you watch as both (in extreme close-up) experience a multitude of emotions. In the end, she accepts him for who he is as he asks her if she can see now and she answers, quite truthfully, “Yes, I can see now.” What a way to end a film!

The performances of Chaplin, Cherrill, and Myers are superb. Myers does an excellent job of playing two very different characters: uproariously funny drunk and dour, sober millionaire. It is difficult to play a blind character, but I think Cherrill pulls it off well. And, of course, Chaplin is great as usual. That final scene is a testament to how powerful silent acting can truly be.

The gags are fabulous. I am partial to the boxing scenes, but there are countless others that showcase Chaplin’s comic timing and genius. He, Keaton, and Lloyd were masterminds when it came to plotting side-splitting sight gags.

Overall, this a true cinematic gem. Perhaps even more so because it was one of the last great silents made. Chaplin took a great risk in making this film, but it paid off in the end.

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Dracula (1931) **

Notice the caption on the above poster: “A Nightmare of Horror”? It was no-doubt dedicated to all the men who have forgotten to buy a card or send flowers on Valentine’s Day—the day this film was released in 1931. Only a male producer would think this would be a good release date for a film about a man who sucks the lifeblood out of women!

In this classic horror film, directed by Tod Browning, Bela Lugosi immortalized the image of Dracula for countless generations. Based on the 1897 Bram Stoker novel of the same name, the film follows English real estate agent Renfield (Dwight Frye) to Eastern Europe and his fateful meeting with Count Dracula. Evidently Renfield was a typical Englishmen, because only an Englishman would dismiss an entire warning village as superstitious. Add the fact that he didn’t jump off a bat-driven coach and it’s easy to see why British nobles would rather remain land rich and bank account poor than have to deal with real estate agents.

Anyway, the most impressive scenes take place after he arrives at the castle. I suppose 1931 audiences found the huge castle door creakingly opening on its own impressive. The opening shots of the deserted and dusty castle are eerie. When the sharp-dressed Dracula glides down the staircase and introduces himself in Lugosi’s Hungarian accent he obviously knew how stupid Renfield was because he emphasized his name: Drac-u-la.

We soon learn that Renfield had been hired to find Dracula a home in England. Dracula is told about Carfax Abbey, but unlike many consumers he doesn’t need to see the Carfax to know he wants the property. He informs Renfield he’s chartered a ship to take them to England, and remembers who he’s dealing with and specifies they will be leaving in the “eve - n - ing." Soon after, Renfield cuts his finger on a paper clip and the count’s countenance changes at the sight of blood. Luckily for Renfield one of the superstitious villagers gave him a crucifix and this sends the count to cover his eyes in agitation. The count offers Renfield a glass of drugged wine and declines to imbibe with his guest uttering the classic, “I never drink...wi-i-i-ne”—coincidentally this film is not a French auteur favorite. Soon Renfield passes out and Dracula has a midnight snack. Oh, don’t be sad for Renfield, we quickly learn he’s still alive when we find him sailing the high seas with his “master” and his coffins. When the ship docks all that is found is a dead crew and a crazy bug-eating Renfield—he’s carted off to the Seward sanitarium, which is coincidentally located next to Carfax.

In London the count shows his appreciation for the arts: the symphony, opera, and bloodsucking. This is where he meets Dr. Seward and his daughter Mina (Helen Chandler), as well as her fiancée Jonathan Harker (David Manners) and her idiotic friend Lucy. The count drops a line about his castle in Transylvania and Lucy instantly becomes enamored with him—will women never learn? Later that night the count flies (via Bat-suit) into Lucy’s open bedroom window and has another snack. When Lucy is found and brought to the sanitarium it is determined that nothing can be done for her.

They decide to consult Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloane), an expert on the occult, about the string of unusual deaths. By using Renfield’s “undead” blood the professor determines that they are dealing with Nosferatu (but unfortunately not the ultra-sexy Max Schreck version); a vampire. The next evening Dracula pays a visit to Mina’s room. As Mina’s personality begins to change she warns Jonathan about the strange dreams she’s been having about howling wolves and breath on her lips. When Van Helsing examines Mina he finds bite marks on her throat. Before the examination can continue the count is introduced and Mina does her best impression of an unfulfilled nympho. Van Helsing soon notices this behavior (as would anyone with eyes), as well as the fact that the count shows no reflection in the lid of Jonathan’s cigarette case—yet another reason not to stop smoking. After Dracula makes a hasty exit, the professor pronounces him as a vampire.

While Van Helsing is jabbering on about his theories, Mina wanders out of the house and is accosted by Dracula. In one of the more famous images of the film we see the count lift up his cape and totally envelop Mina with it. They later find her, barely alive, on the lawn.

Meanwhile, the “Woman in White”, a.ka. Lucy, is roaming the streets offering chocolates to children for their blood—a step up from free rides at Neverland Ranch I would think. Van Helsing learns from Mina that Lucy is a part of the count’s harem. As night approaches, Van Helsing adorns Mina with wolfsbane (some plant anti-vampire repellant) and closes all her bedroom windows. The plan to save Mina? Find the count’s hiding place and drive a stake through his heart. Evidently this plan angers the count, because he soon appears before Van Helsing and the men engage in Stare Down 1931. The professor uses bush league tactics, using a cross to drive Dracula out of the house. Ah, but the damage has been done, as the count paid a visit to Mina before the staring match. This is quickly confirmed when Mina tries to bite Jonathan’s neck, only to be saved by Van Helsing’s handy cross.

Later, Dracula returns to claim his new bride and take her to Carfax. While this is happening, Jonathan and Van Helsing decide to tail Renfield, who leads them to Carfax just in time to see the count taking Mina into the cellar. An enraged Dracula strangles Renfield for his betrayal and then flees into the cellar with Mina. Van Helsing and Jonathan pursue them and at day break find the count’s coffin and drive a stake through his heart. Fortunately the count didn’t have time to completely transform Mina before the rising sun and with his death her soul is freed. Thus, allowing, presumably, the two lovers to walk in the sunlight together for the rest of their lives.

When you watch this film today it seems a bit cheesy. Yet, you must remember that it was made in 1931, and so what we call horror today cannot be applied to a film made almost 70 years ago. What this film did was launch the horror genre in Hollywood, specifically at Universal.

The cinematography of Karl Freund is superb. The many tracking and overhead crane shots created an otherworldly atmosphere. Director Tod Browning must have remembered how well Murnau used lighting to create shadows in Nosferatu, because he employs the same technique in many shots.

The acting leaves something to be desired. This doesn’t mean that Lugosi didn’t do a good job with the overall creepiness of Dracula, because he did. Yet, I just can’t seem to see the sexually charged elements Dracula is supposed to possess in Lugosi. Yes, I know they say some women fainted in the aisles upon seeing this film. Who knows, perhaps they forgot to eat that day… As for the rest of the cast, they were a bit campy. There is a reason that this film launched a string of B-movie horror/monster films.

Overall, I would say that if you want to see where the Hollywood horror genre was launched, then you should watch this film. It is not the greatest horror movie ever made, but it is significant to film history.

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Frankenstein (1931) **

After a record-breaking nine-year reign as the Sexiest Man Alive Max Schreck sadly found himself dethroned in November 1931 by a green-faced monster: Boris Karloff. Upon hearing the news, Max cried, “Oh, die Unmenschlichkeit des Ganzen!” while Boris wondered, “I wonder if I’ll have to do more B-pictures if this is a hit?” Oh, Boris, the inhumanity of it all!

Based on Mary Shelley’s 1818 gothic novel of the same name, this 1931 classic horror film was directed by James Whale (see Gods and Monsters, really, see it!) and produced by Paramount. It is considered by many critics as the most important horror film ever made.

The opening shot has Edward van Sloan stepping from behind a curtain to warn the audience that the film might thrill them, but that it might horrify them as well. Most audience members laughed and wondered what could be more horrifying than the Depression. When the curtain lifts they find the somewhat touched Dr. Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and his hunchback assistant, Fritz (Dwight Frye), robbing a fresh Transylvanian (evidently the birthplace of all movie monsters) grave. The doctor needs fresh corpses for his experiments about the secrets of life. On their way home they encounter a criminal hanging from the gallows and the doctor decides he wants its brain. When Fritz cuts him down the doctor observes that the criminal’s brain is useless due to his neck being broken. Okay, Frankenstein is supposed to be a doctor, so shouldn’t he have already known that since the body was executed by hanging? He evidently went to Grenada for his medical degree. Anyway, this presents the problem of a brain. Frankenstein dispatches Fritz to Goldstadt Medical College to steal one.

Upon reaching Goldstadt, Fritz finds himself watching Professor Waldman (Edward van Sloan) dissecting a psychopath and lecturing his students about the differences between a normal brain and the abnormal brain of a criminal. After the class is over Fritz steals a jar containing the normal brain, but when he drops it he has to take the jar with the criminal’s brain.

Meanwhile, friends are planning an intervention for the doctor. Evidently, his fiancée, Elizabeth (Mae Clark) and Victor (John Boles) are worried that he has become emotionally unstable—if they only knew! They decide to go talk to Dr. Waldman (Frankenstein’s former teacher and mentor before he got booted out of Goldstadt for his overzealous need for corpses). The doctor is greatly disturbed by Victor and Elizabeth’s news of Frankenstein and agrees to visit Frankenstein manor with them.

The next scene opens on a stormy night outside Frankenstein’s watchtower laboratory. Inside, we see that the doctor has stitched together different parts of various corpses to create a human body. Okay, why couldn’t he just use one slightly damaged body and make repairs on it? Really, Joan Rivers does it all the time! Nevertheless, Frankenstein has built a machine that will use the electricity from a lightning storm to put electricity into the monster's body via electrodes in the neck. I have to say, I found all the gadgets in his lab interesting to look at. When Frankenstein tells Fritz to throw the switches and all the sparks fly it is pretty cool.

As fate would have it, just as they are making the final preparations they hear incessant knocking on the door. When Fritz looks through the door window he finds the intervention crew. Fritz impolitely tells them to go away, but Frankenstein gives in when Elizabeth begs him to give them shelter from the storm. After he can’t get them to leave him alone so he can conduct his experiment, he invites them up to his lab, locking the door behind them. They have front-row seats to watch the body hoisted through an open skylight and into the electrical storm. At first when the table is brought back down into the lab the body doesn’t move, but then a hand twitches and Frankenstein starts shouting his most famous line, “It’s alive!” Well, it was, but it takes it awhile to come fully to life. This gives Dr. Waldman time to try to convince Frankenstein that his creature is dangerous. Frankenstein explains that Fritz stole a normal brain from Waldman’s own lab to avoid any danger. Imagine both doctors’ shock when Waldman tells him that a criminal brain was stolen instead. Somehow this doesn’t disturb the already disturbed Dr. Frankenstein and he’s ready for the great reveal of his monster, who has been kept in total darkness up to this point.

This brings us to one of the more memorable scenes of the film: when the monster makes his first appearance. At first appearing as a large silhouette, then as an entity with a huge head and back, and then the camera jumps when it goes in for a close-up of the disfigured face—with the prominent jagged scar and vacant look. Quite simply, Karloff’s monster is gruesome looking.

We soon learn that the monster is mesmerized by sunlight, but terribly frightened by fire. When the monster reacts violently toward a lit torch carried by Fritz, he has to be shackled to the wall of the dungeon. Fritz, fitting the psychological profile of an often tormented weak person, sees the monster as someone he can now have power over. Thus, he starts to mistreat the monster by whipping him and teasing him with fire. Later, the monster will kill Fritz off-screen. When Waldman and Frankenstein go to the cellar the monster turns on them and the two doctors decide to inject a poison into him. They sedate and render him unconscious, but before they can put him down with poison Dr. Frankenstein’s father shows up and they have to hide the monster. Baron Frankenstein takes his mentally exhausted son away with him, while Dr. Waldman is left to destroy the monster. Before he can do this the monster awakens and strangles the doctor to death and escapes into the outside world.

Meanwhile, back at Frankenstein Castle, Frankenstein recovers and he and Elizabeth plan to marry, believing Waldman has taken care of the monster. While the town is drinking and dancing to the forthcoming marriage, the monster is freely roaming the countryside. This is where he meets little Maria picking daisies by a lake. Instead of being afraid of the monster, she asks him to play with her. They throw daisies into the lake and watch them float. When his hands are empty he is puzzled and he innocently picks Maria up and throws her into the lake—she doesn’t float.

Just prior to the wedding ceremony, the happy couple learn about Dr. Waldman death and the monster’s escape. Somehow the monster finds himself in Elizabeth’s room, but is scarred away by her ear-piercing screams. Soon Maria’s father is seen carrying his dead daughter through the streets, crying for vengeance for his daughter’s murder. The townspeople form a mob to hunt down the monster. With torches and pitchforks, the villagers and Frankenstein set off into the dark woods. Frankenstein comes face-to-face with his creation and finds himself beaten and dragged into an abandoned windmill. After an ensuing struggle, the monster throws Frankenstein from the top level of the windmill. Fortunately, a turning windmill blade breaks his fall. After Frankenstein falls safely to the ground, the villagers set the windmill on fire with the monster trapped inside. He cries out in vain and is eventually trapped underneath a fallen beam—presumably dead as flames fully engulf the windmill…but not really, see The Bride of Frankenstein.

When I used to teach middle school I always showed this film at Halloween. You would think kids today would find this boring, with it being in black and white and not at all gory. Yet, they always seemed to enjoy it. I even had some girls who cried when the monster died. I think this is a good testament to the timelessness of this film.

While the story doesn’t follow Shelley’s novel as much as one might like, it is still a compelling tale that wades between the light and dark sides of creation.

Boris Karloff does a wonderful job portraying the monster. He runs the gamut of emotions in this role: fear, bewilderment, anger, happiness, and sadness. I also think Colin Clive and Dwight Frye are entertaining as the crazy Dr. Frankenstein and the sadistic Fritz. The rest of the cast are passable, but not overwhelming.

The camerawork was very inventive—especially the scenes depicting the monster for the first time. In addition, the overall imagery of the film permeates Gothicism. James Whale put his artistic talents to good use here.

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Tabu: A Story of the South Seas (1931) **

What’s more tabu: wearing a white thong in public after Labor Day or not mourning Michael Jackson because you know he was a sick SOB?

F.W. Murnau directed this 1931 silent classic filmed completely in the South Seas with a cast of natives (or whatever PC term you want to insert). It is part documentary and part fictional romance. At the start of production the film was supposed to be a collaboration between Murnau and the acclaimed documentarian Robert Flaherty (Nanook of the North), but things went sour when Murnau started to take the film in a fictional direction. It took two years to complete and sadly, Murnau died in a car accident prior to the release.
The story follows the tragic love story of a very gorgeous island girl and her EXTREMELY hot pearl fisherman lover. When the tribe’s sacred maiden dies the holy man chooses our heroine to take her place and be consecrated to their gods. She becomes tabu and cannot marry her love. The couple attempt to run (or more accurately row) away in a canoe and travel for what seems like forever. They land on a French colonial island and the man takes a job diving for pearls. Mind you, these two have never had to pay for anything in their lives, as there was no such thing as money on their old island. Accordingly, the man happily signs an IOU for cases of champagne, which comes back to haunt them. Meanwhile, the girl is plagued by dreams of the holy man telling her to return or he will kill her lover. She wants to flee the island, but they can’t buy tickets off the island because of the IOU. In order to make enough money, the man decides to dive for pearls in a tabu area known for its man-eating sharks. Ironically he is victorious in this pursuit only to find when he returns home that the holy man has taken the girl away. He attempts to swim after them but cannot catch them and so he decides to drown himself in the ocean.

For not being professional actors, the two lovers did a great job. They seem very natural and both deliver subtle performances. Plus, they are both drop dead gorgeous.

The actual cinematography and scenery are beautiful. It may be difficult to believe that a black and white picture could do justice to an island picture, but it does. Murnau employs his love of shadows in the darker parts of the film to emphasize mood.

The story itself is compelling. You find yourself rooting for the couple and commiserating in their misery. The fact that this is a story about the “other” makes it even more entertaining. It was nice to watch a film about another culture from this period of filmmaking where the actual culture is portrayed by correctly casted performers.

Murnau went out on a limb here and I think he did a wonderful job. I suppose if you had to die tragically in a car accident that this isn’t a bad last picture to make.

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The Million (Le million) 1931 **

Even though this is a French musical comedy it feels very American in one way: somehow people who can’t pay their bills still find enough money to buy lottery tickets.

This 1931 Rene Clair film stars Rene Lefevre as Michel, a Parisian painter who can’t find enough francs to pay his creditors. Engaged to the pure Beatrice (Annabella), who lives across the hall, Michel finds himself lusting after Wanda, a woman whose portrait he’s painting. After Beatrice catches artist and model in a clinch the green-eyed monster takes hold. When a gangster hides in the apartment building to avoid the police Beatrice gives him Michel’s jacket, which she was supposed to hem, out of spite. Meanwhile, Michel and his friend Prosper learn they have won a million dollar lottery. Unfortunately the ticket was in Michel’s now gone jacket pocket. When they catch up to the gangster he’s pawned the jacket to the opera tenor Sopranelli (interesting name choice), who wants to use it for his last performance—he’s leaving for America after the show! This sets the two men, and all of their creditors, off on the typical French caper/chase toward the opera house. What should be a dignified setting turns into a rugby scrum. Clair uses crowd cheers and whistles to emphasize the absurd situation that takes place backstage while the opera is going on. Of course, the film has a happy ending—you see this in the stunning opening sequence on the rooftops of Paris.

This is a delightful film. Clair cleverly has the characters sing most of their dialogue and uses ambient sound to fill in the gaps. The songs are corny, but cute and romantic. The chase scenes are quick-witted and outright funny. The sets for the film, designed by Lazare Meerson, are fantastic. Miniatures, matte paintings, and a surrealistic visual style are used.

Overall, I would rate this as a French classic. The visuals are stunning and the story is heartwarmingly captivating.

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Freedom for Us (À nous la liberté) 1930 **

Ah, if only the assembly lines of America had not dwindled (or moved to Mexico & China), perhaps there would be less "freedom" for us…or at least 11% of us.

This 1931 French comedy, directed by Rene Clair, is a clever little picture that serves as a witty indictment of modern society’s drive toward mechanization. If you’ve seen both this and Chaplin’s Modern Times, then you no doubt noticed their similarities. This might be why the French studio that produced this film sued Chaplin for plagiarism—Chaplin evidently believed in collectivism as early as 1936.

At the beginning of the film we find Louis (Raymond Cody) and Emile (the great Henri Marchand) working on a prison assembly line, singing "Freedom Is for the Happy" and misappropriating a tool to use to saw off their cell window. When they make their break for the prison wall only Louis escapes. If you’re familiar with the Tour de France, you will find it comical that Louis makes it to freedom by incidentally knocking a rider from his bicycle and then later riding it across a finishing line where he wins first prize. Louis soon finds himself conning a store owner into believing that a thief robbed the store while the owner was in the back looking for something. In reality it was Louis and this leads us into watching Louis’ rise from lowly clerk to successful factory owner.

While Louis is becoming a success, Emile is released from prison and somehow ends up sleeping behind the factory and listening to flowers singing quaint songs—no these flowers weren’t poppies. Anyway, he ends up getting arrested and finds himself looking out his cell window at more singing flowers. Actually it’s a beautiful Frenchwoman, Jeanne, doing the singing. I’m not quite sure why, maybe he thought he was losing it with the singing flowers, but Emile tries to hang himself. This causes the gate to come lose and allows Emile to escape and come face to face with Jeanne and her shin-kicking uncle. From here Emile lands in the training department of the factory and leads us into the funniest part of the film. He listens to singing instructions on how to become a factory worker and then starts working as an assembler of phonographs. He becomes distracted when he sees Jeanne and the assembly line starts to comically fall behind. Eventually guards chase Emile to the Louis’ office door where the two old friends meet. At first Louis doesn’t recognize Louis, then he thinks he’s there to blackmail him. They have an entertaining scuffle, but eventually Louis realizes Emile isn’t out to get him and they joyously reunite by singing "Freedom Is for the Happy".

Soon Louis is introducing Emile to his cheating wife and her lover, as well as guests at a dinner party. They have a splendid time drinking wine and singing their favorite song as they make fun of Louis’ guests and lifestyle. This causes Louis’ wife to leave, which makes Louis even happier. Later, when Emile tells Louis he’s taken with Jeanne, Louis invites her and her uncle to a meeting where he makes a proposal (with money) to Jeanne. Jeanne obviously doesn’t like this idea—she already has a boyfriend. Eventually Emile figures this out and is heartbroken. While licking his wounds outside her window, Emile finds himself being pursued by the police and then guards into the factory.

Back at Louis’ house, Louis comes home to find a roomful of ex-cons who want to blackmail him. He refuses to pay. He takes the group on a tour of the factory and locks them in a secret room. Just as Louis is cleaning out his safe, Emile scurries into his office. He hides Emile and then tries to get rid of the guards. While he’s doing this another ex-convict comes in and takes the suitcase full of money. Both Louis and Emile then go on a wild chase, where Emile accidentally releases the ex-cons from the secret room. What follows is a side-splitting chase scene, with Louis in pursuit of the money, and the ex-cons and Emile chasing after Louis. Eventually all of them end up on the roof, where the police arrest all the ex-cons, not believing their story about Louis being a wanted man. Strangely enough, the suitcase is left on the roof.

The next day Louis opens his new factory to great fanfare. Unfortunately the police do some checking up and learn that Louis is an escaped convict. When they show up Louis realizes the jig is up and gives a speech where he gives the factory to the workers. Soon after this a strong wind starts to blow and the money from the suitcase (still on the roof!!) begins to trickle down on the festivities. At first no one wants to pick any up, but when Louis realizes where the money is coming from he starts going after it, which causes all hell to break lose.

The ending of the film is both message-driven and ironic. The factory is completely automated and the workers enjoy themselves with leisure activities. I’m not sure if Rene Clair was trying to say that automation was good because it did all the work, or that because they owned the factory the workers reaped all the benefits and could lead a care-free life The ironic part is that while all this is going on Emile and Louis are roadside tramps, singing "Freedom Is for the Happy" for coins. In the closing shot Louis sees a rich car go by and he reminisces about his lost wealth. Emile kicks him in the butt, breaking his idyll, and they continue down the road singing their song.

There isn’t much dialogue in this picture, instead Clair relies on music and singing to move the story along. Since this was a transitional film in France, from silent to talkie, I think this was an adroit decision by Clair. While the storyline is far from believable, it is quick-witted and enjoyable to watch—sort of like a Moliere play. That said, the best thing about this film is Henri Marchand. His facial expressions and comic timing, especially in the assembly line scenes, are something to be marveled. I don’t know that the film would be as good as it is without him.

If you like Jacques Tati’s films featuring Mr. Hulot, then I think you will like this. If you don’t like Tati’s films (there are some I hate, too), don’t be scared off—this picture just has common thematic elements with his. In addition, if you’re a fan of Modern Times you might want to compare it to this and see if Chaplin really did rip off the French. I wouldn’t classify this as a must see, but it is a good film.

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