42nd Street (1933) **1/2

In 1933, the Great Depression was steamrolling its way across the globe. Each country dealt with public morale in its own way. To put a little pep in the step of their people the Japanese pushed further into Manchuria and the Germans made Adolf Hitler their leader. In America, we decided to make musicals. Our rationale—poverty is easier to swallow if you’re being entertained by a good song and dance show. And in the end, aren’t dancing shoes more attractive than marching boots?

Had it not been for illness, Mervyn LeRoy would have directed this signature backstage musical. He was the one who developed most of the film, but had to hand the directorial reins to Lloyd Bacon after becoming ill—an on the verge of bankruptcy studio just couldn’t wait. Good thing he wasn’t too ill to suggest that then-girlfriend Ginger Rogers play Anytime Annie—her breakthrough role. In addition, this film launched the careers of Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler (Mrs. Al Jolson) and gave little-known choreographer Busby Berkley the opportunity to showcase his amazing talent. When all was said and done, Bacon did a fine job and the film was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar (it lost to Cavalcade).

Screenwriters Rian James and James Seymour adapted the Bradford Ropes novel of the same name into an acerbic, no-holds barred look at what really happens behind the curtains of Broadway. Their script opens with the announcement that producers Jones (Robert Mc Wade)and Barry (Ned Sparks) are launching a new show, Pretty Lady, starring Dorothy Beck (Bebe Daniels). Like most Broadway beauties, Dorothy owes her success to a rich benefactor; in this case, industrialist Abner Dillon (Guy Kibbee), who is financing the show. The producers choose Julian Marsh (the excellent Warner Baxter), a tyrannical, highly successful director but a newly bankrupt man thanks to the stock market crash, to run the show. Due to his unfortunate financial situation, Julian disregards the warnings of his doctor that too much stress could kill him and decides he must make the show a success—no matter what! And so the stage is set for a very contentious production of a Broadway show.

At the auditions we get a first-hand view of the backstage antics of show business. At the cattle call we meet choreographer Andy Lee (George Stone) and his girlfriend, chorus-girl Lorraine (Una Merkel). We also are introduced to the catty and sassy Anytime Annie (Rogers) and the innocent and inexperienced Peggy Sawyer (Ruby Keeler), who mistakenly walks into the men’s dressing room and sees a half-dressed Billy (Dick Powell) instead of the director. Fortunately for Peggy she makes quick friends with Billy, Lorraine and Annie and due to their “connections” she is selected for the chorus. Unfortunately for Peggy, Marsh is an exacting, chain-smoking director who likes to deliver overly-intense diatribes to his cast. I personally enjoy listening to Baxter deliver these not so inspirational speeches, but I can see where some might find them irritating.

Things soon become complicated when we learn that the show’s female lead is a two-timer, who’s cheating on the show’s backer with Pat (George Brent), her former vaudeville partner. When Marsh learns about this he asks his gangster friend Slim Murphy (Tom Kennedy) to get Pat out of the way. Meanwhile, an emasculated Pat starts to see himself as Dorothy’s “kept man” and begins to show an interest in Peggy. After taking her out to dinner one evening he is confronted and attacked by Slim Murphy. When Peggy takes him up to her room to tend to his wounds she is evicted by her landlady. With no place to stay, Pat convinces Peggy to stay at his apartment. So Peggy now spends her nights trying to help Pat get a backbone and her days trying to teach Billy how to tap dance. For those of you who don’t know, Ruby Keeler was a standout tap dancer. In the end, Pat decides to leave New York and take a job in Philadelphia—which coincidentally is where Pretty Lady has its opening test run.

Soon after performing the “You’re Getting to Be a Habit with Me” number in a full dress rehearsal (which Bebe Daniels is quite good in), Dorothy sees Peggy getting into a cab with Pat and she becomes jealously enraged. This causes her to drink way too much at her pre-opening party, which leads her to slap and insult Abner. Oh, no you didn’t! Abner now demands that Marsh replace Peggy for her insolence. Really, hours before the opening? Okay, he’ll accept an apology, but first the producers have to get Dorothy away from Pat, whom she has drunkenly called to her hotel. After hearing the producers discussing how to get rid of Pat again, Peggy tries to warn the couple. A drunken Dorothy thinks she’s there to take Pat away from her and attacks her. In this tussle Dorothy takes a tumble and severely injures her ankle. What to do?

With Dorothy obviously out of his good graces, Abner suggests Anytime Annie take her place—quick work, don’t you think? But Annie doesn’t want the part and suggests to Marsh that Peggy is the only member of the cast capable of replacing Dorothy. With only five hours left until show time, Marsh and Peggy engage in an exhaustive cram session. In the end, Marsh deems Peggy somewhat capable of playing the role and declares that the show must go on. In a somewhat moving scene, Dorothy (on crutches) goes to Peggy’s dressing room to give her blessing and to give the young ingénue some sage advice about show business: success means nothing if you aren’t happy—she’s marrying Pat and leaving show business.

With this bit of melodrama over, the curtain rises and the film becomes a full-fledged musical, but not before the most memorable lines of the film are uttered by Marsh to Peggy: “you’re going out a youngster, but you’ve got to come back a star.” Got pressure? What follows this sage declaration are three memorable Busby Berkeley choreographed numbers, the most notable being, of course, “42nd Street” but I also enjoy “Shuffle Off to Buffalo” , which is a very risqué number—fortunately the Hays Code wasn’t in effect yet. Now, Ruby Keeler was definitely not the most gifted singer, but she does a passable job of singing “42nd Street” and her tap dancing is spectacular. “42nd Street” is the final number of the show and the stylized sets are amazing and the sheer amount of bodies involved in the number baffles one’s mind. One of the standout elements of this number is when chorus members walk up a giant platform and turn at the same time to reveal skyscraper cutouts, which creates a giant New York skyline. The show is a huge success, but Marsh is so physically drained from the ordeal of putting it together that he can’t even enjoy the fruits of his labor. Isn’t that always the case?

This film set the stage for a new type of Hollywood musical and gave birth to the unmistakable Busby Berkeley production number. When people think of 42nd Street they immediately remember the spectacular images he created. In my opinion, Berkeley is the greatest choreographer in film history.

Of course, future Hollywood stars like Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler, and Ginger Rogers got their big break here. Yet, the person I always remember as the standout is Warner Baxter. He was absolutely terrific as the tyrannically-driven director. Personally, I think this was his greatest role—much better than his Oscar winning turn in In Old Arizona. For me, he and the Berkeley production numbers are what makes this such a good film.

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Captains Courageous (1937) **

There are times when I think Spencer Tracy would have been better off if he’d never been paired up with Katharine Hepburn in 1942, when they co-starred in Woman of the Year. Now I know there are many fans of this duo, which made nine films together. I, myself, enjoy many of their films. Yet, the problem I have with this pairing is that there are so many movie fans who don’t recognize (or know about) the great work Tracy did without Hepburn. For way too many, his career is overly defined by the work he did with her. This is a shame, because he gave some of his best performances without her. As a matter of fact, in his illustrious career he was nominated for nine Academy Awards (winning twice), and only one of these nominations, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, co-starred Hepburn. Perhaps this oversight is tied to their off-screen romance. Whatever the case, I wish more people appreciated his non-Hepburn films.

Captains Courageous is one of those non-Hepburn films in which Tracy gives an outstanding performance. He won his first Oscar playing Portuguese fisherman Manuel in this classic MGM film, directed by Victor Fleming. An adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s novel of the same name, the film garnered four Academy Award nominations (only winning Best Actor) and is considered one of cinema’s classic coming-of-age adventure stories.

In the beginning of the film, spoiled rich boy Harvey Cheyne (Freddie Bartholomew) and his widowed, inattentive millionaire father (Melvyn Douglas) are aboard the Queen Anne and headed for Europe. Harvey is a world-class brat who thinks it’s okay to drink six ice cream sodas. Punished by the gods of the high seas for his childish gluttony, Harvey becomes nauseous and leans a little too far over the rail to spew the remnants of his tasty treat. Splash! Into the ocean goes Harvey and nobody seems to notice. His body is rescued by Manuel (Tracy), a Portuguese sailor working on an American fishing ship captained by Disko Troop (the great Lionel Barrymore). Evidently Harvey didn’t sustain a concussion, because when he wakes up he’s as pompous as ever. He demands that Captain Troop drop everything and turn the ship toward shore. Troop missed the memo that said Harvey is lord and master and so he tells the boy a foreign word—NO. Instead, Harvey is informed that he must spend the next three months aboard a ship inhabited by dead fish and unrefined sailors. Plus, he’s told he must work on the ship if he wants to eat. Oh, the inhumanity!

Put under the supervision of Manuel (who calls Harvey his little fish), Harvey refuses to do any work at all and shuns the friendly overtures of Dan (Mickey Rooney), the captain's son. Once hunger kicks in, Harvey starts working in the ship galley. Over time, Harvey learns to perform various jobs and is eventually taught by Manuel how to fish. On one of their fishing trips in a skiff, Harvey fouls the line of other fisherman in order to catch a large halibut and win a contest. While Harvey is basking in the glow of success, Manuel is throwing the fish back in an effort to teach his little fish a lesson. This incident provokes an amazing result: Harvey actually feels ashamed and apologizes. From this point on, the salty, singing fisherman and the young would-be sailor form a bond. As a matter of fact, Harvey grows so fond of Manuel that he doesn’t want to be returned to his father.

Later, when the ship learns that a rival fishing ship is trying to beat them to port in an effort to get the best prices, Captain Troop decides they must make some bold moves. He orders the sails unfurled in dangerous weather conditions. Manuel volunteers for this task. Unfortunately the weather causes the mast to crack and Manuel is mortally wounded and trapped by the sails’ canvas and ropes in the water. In a heart-wrenching scene, it is decided that Manuel must be cut loose, sending him to the bottom of the sea to his death, This scene alone was most probably enough for Tracy to win the Oscar. His tearful goodbye to his little fish just break your heart. Bartholomew is also very moving in this scene. As a matter of fact, Bartholomew is exceedingly good for the remainder of the film. When the ship arrives at Gloucester, Harvey is reunited with his father. A moving memorial service is held for Manuel. It is here where the gulf between Mr. Cheyne and Harvey is closed. Mr. Cheyne sees that his son is no loner a spoiled brat, but a young man who has been profoundly changed by his experiences with Manuel.

Overall, this is a moving coming-of-age film. Tracy’s portrayal of the salt-of-the-earth (or sea in this case) Manuel is wonderful. Like many of his earlier roles, Tracy really develops this role into a memorable character. He gives Manuel many edges and does a good job of not over-playing his character into too much of a stereotype. In addition, Bartholomew is a delight to watch. Yes, his character is annoying in the beginning, but the personality changes he undergoes throughout the film seem believable. It is not easy to go from one of the most-irritating brats in screen history to a child who makes your heart break by the end of the film. Of course, Bartholomew had an excellent, seasoned co-star to help him along this difficult path. It is a shame that this film is not as well-known as it should be.

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Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) **

In 1935 Columbia Pictures president Harry Cohn had the great distinction of awarding the first “Oscar” for Best Picture (it was actually called Outstanding Production at that time) to MGM’s nautical classic Mutiny on the Bounty. His studio had no film nominated (which is difficult to believe since 12 films were up for the award), so he was just happy to be asked to the party. Anyway, between 1927-1934 the award wasn’t known as the “Oscar”, so technically this was the first Best Picture to win the “Oscar”—one of those tricky questions for you trivia buffs out there. It also holds the honor of being the first remake (1933’s In the Wake of the Bounty) to win Best Picture. In the end, the film was nominated for 8 Academy Awards and only won one, but at least it won the biggest prize of all. Of course, they may have picked up the Best Actor award if it hadn’t been for the fact that the three male leads (Clark Gable, Charles Laughton, and Franchot Tone) were nominated against one another. I suppose Victor McLaglen was quite happy about this, because he took home the award for his performance in The Informer.

The screenplay was a monumental undertaking, as screenwriters Talbot Jennings, Carey Wilson and Jules Furthman were given the task of adapting the first two volumes of Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall’s 1932 The Bounty Trilogy to the big screen. For the amount of story they had to work with, I think it is a miracle the movie was only 132 minutes long. Perhaps this is one of the reasons they were nominated for an Oscar (they lost out to The Informer, too!). There was an actual Mutiny on the Bounty, but, like most Hollywood films based on true stories, this was not a completely accurate retelling. For example, Captain Bligh wasn’t reprimanded in this incident but, in fact, promoted to Vice Admiral for his actions.

Director Frank Lloyd also picked up a nomination (he lost to John Ford, who, you guessed it!, directed The Informer—was there a conspiracy?) for heading MGM’s $2 million over-budget film. Good thing for Lloyd that it was also the top-earner of 1935, at $4.5 million. Of course, producers Irving Thalberg and Albert Lewin couldn’t complain since they signed off on a film primarily shot on location in Tahiti and Catalina Island. Perhaps Lloyd’s greatest accomplishment on this film was getting Clark Gable to shave off his cherished mustache.

The story begins in 1787, aboard the H.M.S. Bounty, which is bound for the breadfruit capital of the world, Tahiti. Once there, the crew’s mission is to transport the cheap foodstuff to plantations in the West Indies. Charles Laughton gives one of his most memorable performances as the sadistic and abusive captain of the Bounty, Captain Bligh. Some genius at MGM thought Wallace Beery was the best actor for this role. Really? Wallace Beery better than Academy Award winner Charles Laughton? I hope someone got a promotion for averting this disaster. Anyway, before the ship can set off from Portsmouth, Captain Bligh has one bit of business to attend. A crew member must be flogged for violating a rule. The problem: he’s dead. No matter, he still must be flogged to send a message to the rest of the crew. Does the audience really need to know any more about Bligh? First Officer Fletcher Christian (Clark Gable), who is used to working with this nutcase, tries his best to heed his captain’s orders while at the same time gaining the respect of the crew. This only infuriates Bligh more, which, in turn, causes him to do things that makes Christian grow to resent him. In addition to Fletcher, Midshipman Roger Byam (Franchot Tone), who is on his first cruise with Bligh, is astounded and shocked by the captain’s behavior.

By the time the ship lands in Tahiti, Fletcher is out of favor with Bligh and is not allowed to go ashore. Instead, Byam goes ashore and falls in love with the beautiful Tehani (Mrs. Marlon Brando, Movita Castaneda). Not wanting to hog all the beautiful island women, Byam concocts a plan to allow Fletcher to go ashore. Once there, he also falls in love with Maimiti (Mamo Clark), the granddaughter of the island chief. The crew spends six months in paradise and then, once they have got all the breadfruit they can carry, they must set off for the West Indies. Having led a carefree, happy existence on the island, the men soon become reacquainted with Captain Bligh’s strict running of the ship. Some of the men can’t take it and decide to abandon ship and return to the beautiful Tahitian women. When they are captured, Bligh orders their flogging and demands that the ship’s very ill doctor, Dr. Bacchus (Dudley Digges), attend. What a clever last name for an alcoholic!!! Any way, Dr. Bacchus dies after leaving his bed to obey Bligh’s order. This causes Fletcher to break and he intervenes in the flogging and starts a mutiny. Bligh is tied to the mast and becomes the victim of countless insults from his crew. Luckily for him, Fletcher is an honorable man. When the crew decides to kill him, Fletcher saves him and sets him and some of the non-mutineers out to sea in a small rowboat. Unfortunately for Byam, who doesn’t support the mutiny, there is not enough room for him in the boat. Put out to sea, Bligh swears vengeance and promises he will live to see every last mutineer hang. A master sailor (but a total SOB), Bligh does manage to travel the high seas over 3,500 miles to reach the East Indies.

Meanwhile, the mutineers return to Tahiti, where both Fletcher and Byam marry their Tahitian beauties. And for a whole year, the crew lives in paradise. But then one unfortunate day the Pandora, commanded by one Captain Bligh, drops anchor in the Tahitian harbor. Fletcher leads the mutineers on an escape from the island with the Bounty, while Byam and five other men return to Bligh. As psycho as ever, Bligh charges them with mutiny and places them in irons. Crazy for vengeance, Bligh recklessly pursues the Bounty and wrecks his ship. Miraculously, those who survive this crash also survive another rowboat expedition and eventually make it back to England, where Byam faces court-martial and is sentenced to hang. At his hearing, Byam reveals the true nature of Captain Bligh and the cruelty of flogging as a punishment. In true Hollywood style, Byam is pardoned and allowed to return to service in the navy, while Captain Bligh’s behavior is denounced.

And what happened to Fletcher? He and his crew took the Bounty to Pitcairn Island and promptly crashed and burned it so no one could ever leave. No doubt after seeing this movie thousands of women went home and dreamt they were stranded on a deserted island with Clark Gable.

Overall, and enjoyable adventure story. The cinematography is pretty impressive, but I definitely think it would have been better shot in color. The acting is top-notch and Charles Laughton does a great job portraying one of the most vilest characters in screen history.

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Captain Blood (1935) ***

Before 1935 Errol Flynn was an Australian nobody in Hollywood. He’d made five very forgettable films (only one of which he “starred” in) and his career was in neutral. And, then Robert Donat turned down (rather vehemently) the role of Captain Blood. Although he may have been a stingy S.O.B., Jack Warner often could spot diamonds in the rough and he saw something in Flynn’s raw animal magnetism and gave Flynn the role that would launch an adventurous career.

Based on Rafael Sabatini’s novel of the same name, Captain Blood was directed by Michael Curtiz and was nominated for 5 Academy Awards. Errol Flynn plays a 17th Century Irish doctor who is found guilty of treason in England after treating a man wounded in the Monmouth Rebellion (this was a rebellion to overthrow King James II). Sentenced to slavery in the West Indies (specifically Port Royal, Jamaica), he is condemned to the sulfur mines after refusing to allow the colony’s military commander, Colonel Bishop (the strangely entertaining Lionel Atwill), to examine his teeth. Attracted by Blood’s open defiance of her uncle, the plucky Arabella Bishop (Olivia de Havilland) decides to rescue Blood from sure death and buys him for 10 pounds. Oh, what would a gorgeous woman want with a rebellious slave stud? Get your minds out of the gutter! Blood is openly resentful towards Arabella for interfering and the two often trade barbs with one another, but she’s still the boss (kind of). Both Arabella and Blood are fiery, strong-willed individuals, so it is great fun to watch their scenes together. In particular, de Havilland seems to have a mischievous gleam in her eye throughout the film. This was the first of eight film pairings for Flynn and de Havilland—one of the most successful in screen history.

In the begging of his servitude with the Bishops, Blood finds himself working on their plantation. When Arabella sees that Blood is getting the lash a bit too much for his unchecked attitude, she decides to set him up in a more cozy position. It just so happens that the governor of Port Royal has gout, and who better to treat him than Dr. Blood? Later, she rescues him again when she provides an alibi for him when he is making plans for an escape. This sets up one of the more comical scenes of the film: Blood apologizes and tries to explain why he’s been so rude to Arabella. Her response is pure delight, “I've had men tell me they had reasons for admiring me. And some few, it came, had reasons for loving me. But for a man to store up reasons for resenting me. How refreshing!" For some reason Blood thought this was an invitation to a kiss—oh, no you didn’t! Slap!

As Blood and his friends continue their escape plans, the island is attacked by Spanish pirates. This causes the necessary diversion for them to make their escape. Yet, when they get to their hidden boat they find it damaged and unseaworthy. Not letting this deter them, they decide to take over the weakly guarded Spanish boat. After subduing the Spanish crew, and thus, saving Port Royal, the escaped prisoners are told by Colonel Bishop (who somehow made his way to the ship) that the king might reduce their sentences for their bravery. They toss him overboard and become the Pirates of the Caribbean (take that Johnny Depp!), with Dr. Love becoming Captain Blood.

Later, in a stop in Tortuga, Blood meets French pirate Captain Levasseur (Basil Rathbone). This was the first of many screen partnership between Rathbone and Flynn. Drunk as a skunk, Blood forms a partnership with this most untrustworthy Frenchman. The partnership is rather fortuitous, because Levasseur soon captures an English ship carrying Arabella and an emissary of the king, Lord Willoughby (Henry Stephenson). Levasseur wants to sell them back for a ransom, but Blood decides to buy them for a handful of pearls. Both Arabella and Levasseur aren’t happy with this deal. She, because it’s a blow to her pride—Blood is the boss now. Levasseur, because he has plans for the haughty prisoner. Blood is forced to draw his sword on Levasseur, thus ending their already fragile partnership. In the first of many crossed saber scenes between Rathbone and Flynn ensues, and Levasseur is killed. This is a great swordsmanship scene that was timed to the incoming waves. Filmed at Laguna Beach, in this scene Rathbone had to fall at exactly the same moment that a wave was coming in and could cover him and then wash back out to sea to reveal his dead body. They did it in one take.

Good news, King James II is dead and William and Mary are now the rulers of England—praise be upon the Glorious Revolution of 1688! Lord Willoughby informs Blood that he will grant the entire crew a pardon if he returns them to Port Royal. When Arabella tells him she wants nothing to do with his pirate way of life, he decides to return his new purchases to Port Royal. This could be a problem, because due to his rather profitable ventures on the high seas, the governor of Port Royal has been replaced by Colonel Bishop, who has sworn vengeance on Blood. When the ship returns to Port Royal they find it under French attack. It would seem that instead of protecting the colony, the English fleet is out at sea trying to hunt down pirates. In a bit of irony, Blood and his crew overtake the French ship and save Port Royal yet again! As a reward, Lord Willoughby appoints Blood the new governor of the colony and Arabella gives in to her love for her heroic hunk.

The chemistry between Flynn and de Havilland is undeniable. I always appreciate how well de Havilland seems to play feisty but refined women. In addition, the role reversal between the two lovers is enjoyable to watch. Plus, she could always carry off just about any costume they put her in in her many period films.

Besides being a great adventurous love story, this film made good use of special effects, camerawork, and a fantastic Oscar nominated musical score. Director Curtiz carries the film at a past pace and makes good use of cinematographers Ernest Haller and Hal Mohr. Eric Wolfgang Korngold’s score is very memorable as well. Although it lost the Best Picture Oscar to Mutiny on the Bounty, Captain Blood stands alone as one of the greatest pirate films (pre CGI) ever.

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King Kong (1933) **

“’Twas Beauty killed the beast”—one of the all-time greatest final lines in film history came from this 1933 classic directed by Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack. Considered a fantasy/adventure film, this low-budget, B-movie revolutionized the way filmmakers looked at special-effects and the use of model work. In addition, these same technical innovations, such as 18 inch miniature models, stop-action animation, and rear projection, helped break every box-office record and saved RKO from bankruptcy. Truly a visual spectacle, it’s difficult to believe this was shot in a studio.

I suspect Madame Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve rolled over in her grave when she learned that the male lead in her classic 1740 tale about a beauty and her beast would be played by none other than a giant gorilla. Se La Vie, Madame, don’t be angry with screenwriters James Ashmore Creelman and Ruth Rose for putting a new twist to an old story—it worked.

It’s 1932 and the Depression is raging—you’d think director Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong) wouldn’t have any trouble finding an actress to star in his picture. The problem, it seems, is most actresses would rather starve than travel on a boat to an undisclosed location for an indeterminate amount of time. So, like any good director he hits the streets looking for his potential leading lady. He finds her (Faye Wray) trying to steal an apple and rescues her from an angry fruit vendor. And, then, without a cue, she faints in his arms. Well, Carl, is there any better qualification for a leading lady than the ability to faint? Eureka, she’s perfect! After getting a good meal into her and convincing her that he wants her to star in his picture not in his bedroom, Carl has his female lead, Ann Darrow.

On what soon seems like an endless voyage to the South Pacific, Ann finds herself the only woman on the boat. She soon meets the ship’s first mate, Jack Driscoll (Bruce Cabot, but the role was first offered to Joel McCrea). He, and the other crewmembers for that matter, don’t like Ann being on board…something about women being bad luck for boats. Evidently he can see into the future, because when he sees Ann playing with the crew’s pet monkey (why do all ships have pet monkeys?) he makes a comment about beauty and the beast.

Somewhere in the middle of the trip, Denham informs a flabbergasted Captain Englehorn (Frank Reicher) that they are to travel southwest. According to his secret map (where was his decoder ring?), there is an uncharted island that can only be reached through a reef that is surrounded by extremely tall precipices, and then, once you get there you have to get through some pesky, massive wall. After setting the course, Denham turns to prepping Ann for her performance and does some preliminary camera shots. Perhaps Ann should have been a bit curious as to why he wanted her to practice blood-curdling screams.

Later, as the fog rolls in, the ship finds itself looking up at Skull Mountain and hearing the sound of drums and chanting. Having arrived at their ominous destination, a small party (loaded with a whole bunch of weapons) makes their way ashore. There, they find a “colossal” stone wall. They also see, and hear, natives dressed as gorillas chanting, “Kong, Kong” and dancing around what one can only assume is a human sacrifice. Denham views this as a Kodak moment and starts filming, which, in turn, causes he and his party to be noticed by the natives. Somehow Captain Englehorn knows their language (right) and explains that they’ve come in peace. This does not pacify the angry tribal leader, but he does broker a deal for Ann—six of his women for one golden woman. No deal, and the crew returns to the ship to regroup. Here, Jack shows concern for Ann’s safety and they share a kiss.

Ah, but those pesky natives don’t want to take no for an answer and decide to stealthily row out to the ship and capture the golden woman. After procuring their prize, they return to the island and prepare her as a sacrifice. Back at the ship, when Ann can’t be located but a native bracelet can, the crew sends out a rescue party. Meanwhile, the natives have opened the gate and tied Ann to the top of an altar. After securing her to her bridal chamber, they hurry back and lock the gate and then ring a gong. This evidently is a signal to Kong, because the next thing we hear are primal animal noises coming from the jungle. And, then, we see him: a giant ape/gorilla. This is one of those first images you just don’t forget. On cue, Ann starts screaming bloody murder and gains the attention of Kong. When he releases her from the altar, she faints, which makes it even easier to pick her up and carry her off into the jungle.

This is perhaps the best part of the film. The jungle scenes and the beasts held within this primordial world are just spectacular. Half the armed rescue party guards the gate while the other half pursue Ann and the beast’s giant footprints into the jungle. When they come upon a stegosaurus their bullets are no match for its protective armor. Good thing they brought bombs with them! After disposing of this creature, they hear Kong making his way through a swamp and quickly construct a raft to cross the ominous-looking swamp. Here they meet a brontosaurus, which overturns their raft and throws them into the murky swamp. Lunch is had by the brontosaurus, but a few men do escape. The violence of this scene is captivating. I especially liked when the creature eats one man head first. Hearing his pursuers, Kong places Ann in a tree and goes to find the rescue party. As the men are crossing along a log bridge Kong rips it up from the ground and shakes it, sending the men into a deep gorge and to their deaths. Miraculously (it is a film), Jack is the only man to make it across the bridge and he attempts to hide in some sort of vine thing. When Kong tries to grab him, Jack uses his knife to defend himself from Kong and to cut another vine that is occupied by a giant lizard. When Ann starts screaming again (yes, she does stop from time to time), Kong goes to gather her up and finds another dinosaur about to eat his golden woman. Oh, no you didn’t! Now, it’s time for a Battle Royale between Kong and the tyrannosaurus rex. This battle uses very impressive stop-action animation. The ferocious battle (I won’t describe it, you have to see it) ends when Kong rips open the jaws of his enemy and then beats his chest triumphantly. Having saved his golden woman, he gathers Ann from the tree and heads further into the jungle.

Somehow, Jack and Denham meet up—they are the only two surviving members of their group. Denham is sent back for reinforcements, while Jack is given the task of finding Ann and then signaling for help.

Meanwhile, Kong takes Ann to his humble abode: a cave atop Skull Mountain. The decorations include a very creepy snake-thingy, which tries to eat Ann when Kong leaves her for a moment. Oh, no you didn’t! Hearing yet more screaming (I wonder if they had earplugs on the island?), Kong remerges and has to teach snake-thingy how to treat guests. While being choked to death by the snake’s coils, Kong somehow manages to gather enough strength to bash the snake against a rock. With this household chore disposed of, Kong takes Ann to the balcony and shows her the view, where, you guessed it, she faints again. Watching his golden woman sleep, Kong examines his prize. When he hears a noise, Kong leaves Ann atop the cave while he goes to check inside. As Ann is trying to find a way to escape, a winged dinosaur (pterodactyl?) tries to snatch her up off the ledge. Kong returns just in time to save Ann, who is being lifted off the ground by the creature. As Kong is fighting the winged beast, Jack appears and grabs Ann and they start to climb down the very steep cliff via vine. After killing the beast, Kong is a bit miffed when he learns they are trying to escape. Seeing the vine, he tries to pull them back up the mountain, but this causes them to fall into the water at the foot of the mountain. The current pulls Jack and Ann downriver, which coincidentally, is in the direction of the village. They reunite with the crew and head toward the beach just in time to hear that a very angry Kong is at the gate. He breaks the giant door down and frantically searches for his golden woman, all the while destroying everything in his path. One native even finds himself being chewed to death by the beast. When Kong reaches the beach, Denham throws a gas bomb at him, which causes him to collapse, unconscious, to the ground. Denham then decides to take the beast as his pet and orders the crew back to the ship for chains. It would seem that such a beast would draw large ticket sales at an exhibit.

Back in New York City, Denham puts together a new Broadway spectacular: "KING KONG EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD.” If someone was charging $20 a ticket in the Depression, whatever was behind the velvet curtain must be awesome! When the curtain goes up the audience is faced with a giant ape/gorilla chained to a steel contraption. Denham has Jack and Ann come on stage and relays their story to the crowd. When flashbulbs start going off (plus the fact that his golden woman is with that other guy), Kong becomes irate and begins to break free from his chains. Jack tries to take Ann out of the theater and into a nearby hotel before Kong can get to her, but the beast catches glimpse of them. As he makes his way through Manhattan he wreaks havoc. Hearing a screaming woman from the hotel, Kong believes he’s heard Ann’s mating call, and he starts to scale the building. Reaching into one room he finds a sleeping woman who isn’t Ann, so he drops her to her imminent death on the street below. Finally, he reaches his golden woman and carries her through Manhattan. He takes out an elevated train and a number of cars on his way to what he perceives as the tallest tree in this asphalt jungle—the Empire State Building.

And this sets the scene for one of the most iconic images in film history. With armed airplanes circling, Kong swats at them like they are flies. When bullets rip through his body, Kong knows it’s the end. He takes one final look at his beauty and puts her down on a ledge and then falls to his death. Of course, Jack shows up and rescues Ann from the ledge, but who really cares…Kong is dead!

Overall, an impressive display of special effects—especially when one considers this film was made in the early 1930s. In addition, the story was a clever retelling of the classic Beauty and the Beast story. Another fabulous thing about this film is Max Steiner’s musical score, which was the first feature-length score in an American sound picture. All of the special effects were matched to Steiner’s score, and this made the action sequences even more dramatic.

Oh, and for those of you who enjoy watching those cheesy science fiction monster films, it all started with King Kong. And, what about the Japanese? Where would they be without their Godzilla—a byproduct of what was created in an RKO studio in the 1930s. Often repeated with some questionable remakes, but never surpassed, King Kong is a true classic film.

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Stagecoach (1939) ***

It’s difficult to believe that John Wayne wasn’t always a star, but before Stagecoach he and the genre that made him famous, the western, weren’t doing well. He’d had an earlier chance with The Big Trail (1930), but when that was a flop he was primarily relegated to making B westerns. The western itself wasn’t a hot commodity, so when director John Ford pitched the idea for his first sound western to David O. Selznick, the profit-driven producer took a pass. Big mistake. Instead, Ford and Walter Wanger produced one of the most important westerns ever made: Stagecoach, a film that delivered the money at the box office, reestablished the western genre, and made John Wayne a star.

Set in what would become Ford’s staple western setting, Monument Valley, this film was nominated for seven Academy Awards and won two Oscars for Best Supporting Actor (Thomas Mitchell) and Best Score. Since most film critics cite Stagecoach as the western’s savior, it is interesting that, in essence, this is a story about redemption. Screenwriter Dudley Nichols based his script about a group of people traveling on a stagecoach during an Apache uprising on both the Ernest Haycox short story "The Stage to Lordsburg" and Guy de Maupassant’s Boule de Suif. Brimming with colorful characters from various backgrounds, this is a story about overcoming social prejudices and working together to survive a common enemy, in this case a group of angry Apaches.

When the film opens we learn that the Apaches are on the warpath near the Arizona/Mexico border. As the army tries to telegraph nearby Lordsburg the line is cut. It is in Tonto, Arizona where we meet our stage riders: Buck (Andy Devine), the stage driver; Marshal Curley Wilcox (George Bancroft); Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt), a pregnant woman on her way to meet her Cavalry officer husband; Hatfield (John Carradine), a southern gambler; Henry Gatewood (Benton Churchill), the town’s embezzling banker; Dallas (top-billed Claire Trevor), a prostitute forced out of town; Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell in an Oscar winning performance), a penniless drunk who is also forced out of town; and, Sam Peacock (Donald Meek), a whiskey salesman. Before heading out the stagecoach is warned by their cavalry escort Lieutenant Blanchard (Tim Holt) that there could be some trouble with Geronimo on the trail. Surprisingly no one decides to get off. Along the trail the stage encounters Ringo Kid (John Wayne), a young man who has busted out of jail to avenge the deaths of his father and brother from the Plummer clan. The introduction of Wayne’s Ringo is one of the most iconic images of his career: a rapid tracking shot, which zooms in for a close-up of the face that would become the symbol of the western. Ringo, however, is the symbol of a fugitive and is promptly placed under arrest by Marshal Curley.

When they arrive at the Dry Fork station, Lucy learns that her husband has been ordered to Apache Wells and the stage is told by Lieutenant Blanchard that he can’t escort them any farther. When Buck suggests they stay at Dry Fork, Gatewood, who unbeknownst to the others is on the run with the bank’s money, insists that they continue toward Lordsburg. Curly takes a vote and the ayes have it, so the trip will continue. Meanwhile, at the way station, the passengers become more acquainted with one another over dinner. Not knowing that Dallas is a prostitute, Ringo treats her with respect and sits her next to the pregnant Lucy, who is highly offended and is relieved when Hatfield suggests she move closer to the window to escape the heat. Ringo thinks it’s him they are offended by and tries to leave the table, but Dallas begs him to stay right where he’s at.

With their repast over, the stage heads off toward Apache Wells. When Buck decides to take the mountain road in an attempt to avoid the Apaches, the passengers encounter a dropping temperature and mounting tensions. In an effort to help the uncomfortable Lucy, Dallas offers to let her sleep on her shoulder but is rebuffed by the proper Southern lady. After enduring an expertly filmed dust storm, the stage arrives at Apache Wells. They are greeted by four Mexicans who inform them that the cavalry has already left and that Lucy’s husband has been injured badly in a fight with the Apaches. This causes her to go into labor. Too bad Doc Boone is high as a kite after sampling most of Mr. Peacock’s whiskey on the ride. After ingesting as much coffee as possible, Doc is aided by Dallas in delivering Lucy’s daughter. This is one of the film’s more ironic turns, as the woman who wasn’t good enough to sit next to helps deliver the baby of the woman who shunned her. It also provides us with the image of a maternal Dallas and an admiring Ringo, as she nestles the baby in her arms for inspection. This also sets up the classic image of Ringo watching Dallas walk down a darkened corridor and through a lighted doorway to get some fresh air. It becomes obvious that Ringo and Dallas are falling in love with one another. The problem is, he doesn’t know about her past and he has that pesky business of having to handle his business in Lordsburg, i.e. killing the Plummers. When she tries to explain about her past, he tells her he knows all he needs to know to marry her—that is, if he lives.

The next morning, is both literally and figuratively the dawning of a new day. For example, when offered a drink a redemptive Doc refuses, seemingly rededicated to his profession since delivering Lucy’s baby. In addition, Lucy has a newfound admiration for Dallas, who sat up all night with the baby while she recovered her strength. Evidently while she was watching the baby, Dallas hatched an escape plan for Ringo so he wouldn’t go to Lordsburg and a) learn about her past, and b) get shot to death by the Plummers—not certain which one she thought worse. When alone, she gives him a rifle and a horse and sends him on his way. He goes a few yards and then turns back—he sees Apache war smoke in the distance.

The stage hurriedly sets off for the ferry. When they arrive they find the ferry destroyed and all of the residents killed by the Apaches. The men rig the stage with hollowed-out logs to float it across the river. Once they make it across, they find themselves in wide-open country. In true John Ford fashion, the scene is shot from a high ridge that reveals Indians positioned to attack the isolated stage. Thinking that they have averted danger, the passengers are preparing to toast one another when an arrow whizzes by and hits Mr. Peacock in the chest. What ensues is 8 minutes of heart-pounding action, as everyone on the stage bands together to fight off the Indian attack. It is during this sequence that legendary stuntman Enos Yakima Canutt pulls off one of the most spectacular stunts ever: leaping from his horse onto the moving stage, then attempting to grab the reins he is shot by Ringo and falls down between the horses, grabs onto the thing that connects the horses to the stage and is dragged along the ground, only to be shot again which causes him to fall and have six horses and the stage run/roll right over top him—he lives. In the end, just as everyone is about to run out of ammunition the cavalry arrives to save the day. The only fatality is Hatfield, who was shot just before he was about to kill Lucy to save her from being captured and raped by the Indians.

Saved, the stage, escorted by the cavalry, arrives in Lordsburg. When friends of one of the Plummers sees Ringo on the stage they go to alert them of his arrival. Ringo then asks Marshall Curley to escort Dallas to his ranch across the border. The Marshall agrees and gives Ringo ten minutes to say goodbye to Dallas and to take care of his business with the Plummers. When Ringo tries to escort Dallas home, she refuses to tell him where she lives. In the end, he escorts her to a brothel and tells her he knows about her past and still wants to marry her. With this cleared up, Ringo sets off for the deserted street that will be the scene of his final stand against the three Plummers. Shot mostly in silhouette, Ford uses a long-shot to capture the adversaries as they advance closer to each other. At the last moment Ringo throws himself to the ground and fires three shots. When Dallas hears the shots she believes Ringo is dead. Amidst her grief, Dallas hears the sound of boots walking up behind her and turns to find Ringo emerging from the shadows. When Curly and Doc come to collect Ringo they allow the young couple to escape to Mexico and the freedom of a new beginning.

Truly a stellar film on every level. Bert Glennon’s cinematography is spectacular and sets the standard for all westerns to follow. The plot, nothing short of a morality tale about the power of redemption, is engaging and at times gripping. The action sequences, both the Apache attack and the final shootout sequence sets the bar very high for the rest of the genre. And, finally, the cast is superb. Everyone does a wonderful job playing their particular part in this morality tale. Thomas Mitchell’s Doc and John Carradine’s Hatfield are truly memorable characters. In addition, Claire Trevor pulls off a superb performance as a woman of the world who just wants to be loved and respected. Her performance is multi-faceted. And, finally, John Wayne is excellent as the vengeance seeking Ringo. By far not one of my favorite actors, Wayne gives perhaps his second-best performance (The Quiet Man being his best) here. What he accomplished in this role launched him into a new phase of his career and created the quintessential image of the rugged cowboy in Hollywood’s classic film age. In addition, this film laid the cornerstones for what John Ford would later accomplish in the western genre.

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Scarface: The Shame of a Nation (1932) **

Two words: Joan Rivers.

Howard Hawks directs this 1932 classic starring Paul Muni as one of cinema’s most violent and psychologically disturbed gangsters, Tony “Scarface” Camonte. The film was actually made in 1930, but due to its controversial themes and violence Hawks had to fight the censors to have it released. After many concessions on the part of Hawks, most notably the subtitle, United Artist released it. It did poorly at the box office and a number of states banned it. Hawks withdrew it from circulation and for nearly fifty years it was virtually nonexistent. Written by legendary screenplay writer Ben Hecht in eleven days, the story chronicles the rise and fall of a Prohibition Era Chicago crime boss. Interestingly, Brian De Palma dedicated his Scarface (1983) to Hecht.

After an introductory warning about the insidiousness of organized crime, the film opens with the murder of Chicago crime boss Big Louis Costillo (Harry J. Vejar) in a telephone phone. Who puts a cap in him, you ask? Why, none other than our Scarface (and Louis’ bodyguard). Hawks adroitly chose to introduce the audience to Muni’s character through the use of shadow, as well as whistling a song from Lucia di Lammermoor (a 19th century version of feuding families). Take heed, whenever you hear Scarface whistling someone is about to die. In addition, as Scarface shoots Louis an X or a cross appears; this is also a signal used throughout the film that an unnatural death is imminent.

The next day we find Scarface and his coin-flipping associate Guino Rinaldo (George Raft, and yes, this is where his coin flipping trademark began) in a barber shop where they are arrested. We are finally introduced to Tony Camonte’s face, which has an X-shaped scar on his left cheek, hence the nickname “Scarface”. At the police station we learn that Scarface has a long rap sheet and a bad reputation. The police believe Scarface was carrying out the orders of his new boss, Johnny Lovo (Osgood Perkins—yes Anthony’s father), but he won’t talk and they have to release him. When he goes to visit Lovo he meets his moll, Poppy (Karen Morley). She is a total bitch to him and has the audacity to insult his scared face.

Later we meet Scarface’s immigrant family, his sister Cesca (Ann Dvorak) and mother (Inez Palange). Scarface had a need to control Cesca’s every move and is strangely jealous of any man who looks at her once. Hawkss hints at the idea that Scarface has incestuous feelings for his sister. If this relationship wasn’t sick enough, his mother calls him no good to his face and to anyone else who will listen. Problems soon present themselves when Cesca shows an interest in Guino.

Meanwhile, Tony becomes both enforcer and collector for Lovo’s bootlegging operation. Hawks uses montage to show how Scarface and Guino take control of South Side Chicago. One of the more memorable murders takes place in a hospital, where Scarface and his goons carry flower arrangements throughout the hospital looking for their victim. As Scarface becomes more powerful, Lovo fears he’s losing control and that his lackey is about to push into their rival O’Hara’s North Side territory. His fears are realized when Guino kills O’Hara in a flower shop. In addition, now that Scarface has money and power, Polly starts to pay him attention.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have killed O’Hara, because his successor, Gaffney (Boris Karloff), decides to declare war on Scarface with the use of tommy guns. Gaffney tries to ambush Scarface by setting up a fake funeral procession outside a restaurant he’s eating at. This attempt is a failure, but it impresses Scarface and he decides he needs tommy guns, too. Thus, a gang war erupts and countless machine guns mow down gangsters. There are too many X’s to recount, but my favorites are of the man lying dead outside a mortuary and the St. Valentine’s Massacre where seven X’s appear as ceiling beams above Gaffney’s gang. Oddly enough, Gaffney wasn’t present at the massacre—Hawks and Hecht had something more special planned for him. While bowling (really?), Gaffney scores a strike and an X is marked on his score sheet. Usually this would be cause for celebration, but instead he is mowed down by machine guns as he throws his next ball—coincidentally another strike.

With Gaffney out of the way, Scarface is on a high and has no problem being disrespectful to Lovo. Seeing Polly’s interest in Scarface, Lovo decides he needs to take him out. Too bad Cesca has decided to seduce Guino, who is trying to avoid her because she’s the boss’ sister. When he rebuffs her, she decides to dance with another man. When Scarface sees this, he punches the man and drags Cesca (who happens to be wearing an X-backed dress) home without his bodyguards. The scene at home is dark and violent. He slaps Cesca around and rips her dress. When Scarface leaves the house bullets fly overhead, barely missing him as he escapes in his car. Pursued by would-be assassins in a high speed chase, he’s run off the road and crashes. Scarface survives and he and Guino confront Lovo, whom they suspect put a hit out on Scarface. Whistling his Lucia di Lammermoor again, Scarface orders Guino to kill Lovo.

Now that Lovo’s no longer the boss (or breathing), Poppy is ordered by Scarface to go into hiding with him. With her brother out of the picture, Cesca steps up her seduction plan for Guino and they become involved. When Scarface returns to Chicago he learns from his mother that Cesca is living with a man and he suspects Guino is the man. When Scarface goes to their apartment, whistling his “special” tune he finds apartment X and his right-hand man. Off-screen shots ring out and Guino doesn’t catch his last flipped coin. A grief-stricken Cesca informs her brother that he just killed her husband. Oops. Scarface is devastated and takes refuge in his fortress of an apartment. With the police stationed outside and preparing to storm the building, Cesca goes to her brother’s to kill him. She can’t pull the trigger and actually comforts him and attempts to help him escape. They unite in violence and shoot at the police. Cesca takes a stray bullet and dies. As tear gas is thrown in the window, Scarface is forced out of the apartment. At first he begs the police not to shoot him, but then decides to make a break for it. Police gunfire fills his body with lead. When his body hits the ground it lands in a gutter.

In a tacked on ending that Hawks refused to direct, we learn Scarface has survived his injuries and is sentenced to death by hanging. These last scenes are shot from a distance and you never see his face. This would be because Muni didn’t shoot these scenes, instead a silhouetted stand-in was used. The final scene has a guard placing a black hood over Scarface’s head and the signal for the execution. This was a very stark ending—one of those fade to black endings that basically say “enough said”.

The foreshadowing element of the X symbol and Scarface’s whistling of Lucia di Lammermoor is very effective. Hawks and cinematographers Lee Garmes and L. William O’Connell are extremely clever in their usage of this device. In addition, the dark, shadowy world that they create is especially apt for the subject matter which they are depicting.

The story itself is entertaining, but this is not my favorite gangster film. Muni is effective in the role, but at times I felt he was trying too hard. The way he speaks in the stereotypical Italian immigrant accent is a tad grating at times. My favorite part of the film, other than the symbolic X’s, is George Raft as Guino. He just looks very comfortable in this role.

Not the best gangster film, but still an entertaining depiction of organized crime during Prohibition.

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