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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Trouble in Paradise (1932) **

Love, temptation, and paradise—three things that can cause all kinds of trouble…just ask Eve.

If you asked director Ernst Lubitsch what his best film was he would answer this one. Many critics seem to agree with him—after all, he is the master of the sophisticated romantic comedy. Both Billy Wilder and Howard Hawks thought Lubitsch was a god and openly modeled their work after his. Using his “Lubitsch Touch” to the utmost, Lubitsch pushes the envelope over a cliff with sexual double entendres, witty dialogue, and sophisticated style and grace. Based on Aladar Laszlo’s play The Honest Finder, the story follows a couple of master thieves (played by Herbert Marshall and Miriam Hopkins) who try to outwit one another for the sport of it, as well as for a good chunk of change from a a beautiful businesswoman (played by Kay Francis).

The “Baron” Gaston Monescu (Marshall) and “Countess” Lily Vautier (Hopkins) first meet in Venice, where Lily pretends she’s ashamed to be seen going into his hotel room—but not ashamed enough to try to look inconspicuous. The gown that Hopkins is wearing couldn’t have been any tighter without her breaking a rib. Add the fact that it’s one of those shimmering, backless numbers and you see how one might doubt her meek manner. Anyway, as they are dining in his hotel room and enjoying a bit of sexual repartee, word gets around that there have been a number of robberies in the hotel. As each criminal tries to outwit the other, the truth dawns on Lily and she nonchalantly calls him a crook and then asks him to pass the salt. Thus, each reveals what they have stolen from the other, which serves as a strange form of foreplay for the couple and they declare their love. This scene is sleek, sexy, and sophisticated.

The story then moves to Paris, where we meet Madame Mariette Colet (Francis), the widowed owner of the Colet Perfume Company. Rich beyond compare, she pays 125,000 francs for a diamond-encrusted evening bag, Mariette is a bored and frivolous woman. Her two would-be suitors, Francois (Edward Everett Horton) and the Major (the always delightful Charles Ruggles), vie for her time and affections. Sometimes they even go on dates together, such as to the opera where Mariette has her 125,000 franc purse stolen. Guess who was in the audience that same night?

Time has not been kind to Gaston and Lily. He hit a snag in Geneva and their finances are not what they once were. As a result, the passion has dimmed a bit. When Lily reads in the newspaper about a 20,000 francs reward for the return of Mariette’s lost purse she urges Gaston to turn it in for the reward—he has bigger plans.

When Gaston goes to return the purse he saves Mariette from an angry Bolshevik and endears himself to her. Of course, now he’s Monsieur LaValle—he needs to be incognito since that nasty Geneva incident. He tells Mariette that he only accepts the reward due to the stock market crash. Unable to find her checkbook, Mariette is persuaded by Gaston to look in her wall safe. Obliviously she opens it in front of him, and he stores the combination in his thieving mind. No checkbook, but there is 100,000 francs on hand—if only we all had that problem! It would seem that Mariette isn’t used to handling such issues, but since she discharged her secretary she’s been a bit disorganized. Well, Gaston needs a job and she likes the way he tells her she has no business sense. Voila—Gaston is now her personal secretary—no references please! In short fashion he positions himself as the most powerful person in the Colet house, even more so than Madame herself.

Since Mariette is useless when it comes to business and Gaston is responsible for everything, he needs an assistant. And, so, Lily comes to Chateau Colet and works with Gaston to convince Mariette to keep 850,000 francs in her safe. Lily is no longer dressed in slinky dresses but in unflattering suits.When Mariette suggests that Lily do more of Gaston’s work and that she leave at 5 p.m. every day, Lily becomes convinced that her new boss is out to get her man. Jealous and convinced Gaston is sexually involved (or soon to be) with Mariette, Lily tries to convince Gaston to leave with what is already in the safe. When he says they need to hold out a bit longer, Lily begs him to remain a crook but not to become a “good for nothing gigolo.”

Each day after Lily goes home at 5 p.m., Mariette draws Gaston closer and closer to her. Eventually it becomes obvious that they are involved and Lily starts to become bitterly jealous. If Lily wasn’t problem enough, Gaston has to deal with Francois, one of his victims in Venice. While Francois can’t place Gaston he has a feeling they’ve met before. In addition, the chairman of Mariette’s company, Monsieur Giron (C. Aubrey Smith), is convinced Gaston is an imposter. Eventually, Francois remembers where he’s seen Gaston after snuffing a cigarette in a gondola-shaped ashtray. Somehow Gaston distracts Francois and he forgets to accuse Gaston of wrongdoing. Gaston alerts Lily to the end of the grift and books train tickets to Berlin.

The last section of this film is the best. When Gaston plans to rob the safe while Mariette attends a dinner party, Lubitsch throws in one of his best twists. With a servant awaiting orders about the car, the couple argue over whether she is to go to the party or stay. Taking control for once in her life, Mariette decides to take Gaston as her lover and even snaps her fingers at him to show how quick she can have him. Later, they both emerge from her bedroom door in plain sight of the chauffeur, who is finally told by Gaston that Madame won’t need the car. Oh, but, yes, she will, says Madame. This is priceless. Evidently, Gaston will have to wait until 11 p.m.—but he has to catch the midnight train to Berlin with Lily! He calls her and announces they won’t be leaving until the morning.

While Mariette is at the party, Giron arrives and informs Gaston that he must leave the chateau by the next morning unless he wants the police introduced to Gaston Monescu. Unfortunately for Giron, Gaston has uncovered that he’s been embezzling from the company. With this out of the way, now Gaston must deal with an angry and jealous Lily, who comes to collect her share of the take and to leave Gaston forever.

Meanwhile at the party, Francois’ memory is restored when he hears the word “doctor” and remembers who Gaston is. He informs Mariette, who returns to the chateau just as Lily is leaving. She immediately goes to Gaston’s bedroom and starts taking off her clothes and jewelry. When she goes to place her jewels in the safe Gaston attempts to distract her by telling her of Giron’s embezzlement. Eventually he reveals that he is a crook, but that he loves her, too. Distressed, Mariette returns to her own room to find Lily waiting for her. In a deft move, Lily informs Mariette that she’s the one who robbed the safe and that she is Gaston’s former lover. In one of Miriam Hopkins’ best scenes of all time (not that there are many), she first throws the money back at Mariette and then decides if Mariette can pay 125,000 francs for a handbag she can afford to pay 100,000 for Gaston—thus making him a gigolo. This makes Gaston realize he loves Lily. He bids farewell to Mariette, and she bids farewell to her pearl necklace—a willing gift to Lily.

In the final scene of the film we find the thieves in the back of a taxi cab, making their way to the train station. When Gaston searches for the necklace, Lily reveals she’s already pick-pocketed it and that she took the 125,000 handbag as well—now will he deposit the 100,000 that he took out of her purse.

The dialogue and the story are wonderful. You can’t beat a Lubitsch film when it comes to witty dialogue. He may have not written the screenplay, that marvelous piece of work belongs to Grover Jones, but he had an ear for what worked best and how and at what pace it should be delivered.

Herbert Marshall is his usual charming and suave self. If you’ve seen him in The Letter, then you are familiar with his range. As for Miriam Hopkins, she is bearable. I don’t care for her at all. There is something that always rubs me the wrong way when I watch her in a film. I suppose this is her best performance, but as I’ve already said, there’s not much to choose from. My favorite scenes in the film all have Kay Francis in them. I think she is absolutely wonderful in this role and if it were up to me, Gaston would have stayed right there in her bedroom. The idea that he’d leave her for Miriam Hopkins almost ruins the film. It sort of reminds me of how I felt at the end of Four Weddings and a Funeral. I was so mad when Hugh Grant’s Charles ended up with Andie MacDowell’s Carrie, when he should have realized the best woman for him was Kristin Scott Thomas’ Fiona. Am I the only one who feels this way about these two films?

Finally, while I like this movie, it is not my favorite Lubitsch film. I much prefer Ninotchka. Still, Trouble in Paradise is an enjoyable film that all fans of sophisticated comedy should see.

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Carmen Jones (1954) ***

In 1954 the Supreme Court and Otto Preminger took two giant leaps forward for the Civil Rights Movement. With Brown v. Board of Education, Topeka, Kansas, the Court overruled Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) which had set up Jim Crow and the mantra of “separate but equal”. Now, all public schools had to become desegregated. By producing and directing Carmen Jones, a major studio production starring African Americans, Preminger showed Hollywood and America that a film comprised mostly of a minority cast could be hugely profitable and entertaining. The fact that he decided to carry on an affair for years with his leading lady, Dorothy Dandridge, is another issue—especially when you consider he was married and she was emotionally troubled. Nonetheless, this is a film that holds major cultural and historical significance and has been preserved by the National Film Registry.

Based on Bizet’s operatic masterpiece, Carmen, this musical stars Dorothy Dandridge in an Oscar nominated performance as Carmen Jones, man-eater extraordinaire. At the start of the film we meet Cindy Lou (Olga James), a sweet girl who goes to say goodbye to her boyfriend Joe (Harry Belafonte), who is leaving for flight school. They decide to get married before he leaves, but a complication arises when Carmen Jones enters the picture. Oozing sexuality and attitude, Carmen is either wanted or detested by every man she comes into contact. One of those who detest her, mainly because she blew him off, is Sgt. Brown (Brock Peters). So when Carmen gets into a fight with a co-worker for reporting her late, Sgt. Brown cancels Joe's leave and orders him to take Carmen to the authorities in Masonville.

On the ride, Carmen makes several passes at Joe, but he rebuffs her advances. This just seems to entice Carmen more—you know the lyrics to “Dat’s Love” right?

You go for me and I'm taboo
But if you're hard to get, I'll go for you
And if I do, then you are through
my baby, that's the end of you

In an attempt to cut the trip short, Joe decides to take a dangerous road to Masonville and the jeep ends up in a river. Carmen suggests they go to her grandmother’s house and catch the train to Masonville later that evening. In a scene reminiscent of Adam and Eve, except this time a peach is substituted for an apple, Carmen lures Joe into bed by brushing mud off his pants and giving him a peach. When he awakens the next morning he finds a note saying she loves him but she’s skipped town because she doesn’t want to go to jail. So instead, Joe finds himself locked up for allowing her to escape. When Cindy Lou visits him she sees a package with a rose inside sent from Carmen and she’s had enough.

While Joe is working in the stockade, Carmen is in Louisiana working at a night club. Bored and growing impatient for Joe’s release, Carmen is tempted by flashy prizefighter Husky Miller’s (Marvin Hayes) offer to take her and her friends Frankie and Myrt (Pearl Bailey and a striking Diahann Carroll) to Chicago and to lavish diamonds and furs on her. Oddly enough, Carmen decides to wait for Joe. I suppose this is the dichotomy of Carmen—she wants to make sure she has Joe before she returns to her usual ways. Anyway, Joe walks in the door the same evening this proposition is made, but Carmen’s joy is short-lived since Joe tells her he must leave immediately for flight school. Oh, no you didn’t! Carmen can’t believe any man would leave her for flight school and flies into a rage. Just then old Sgt. Brown appears and insults Joe, and tries to leave with Carmen. Joe beats him to a pulp, but then has to flee with Carmen to Chicago to avoid going to prison for hitting a superior officer.

Wanted by the military police for desertion, Joe must hide out in a run-down rented room while Carmen can come and go as she pleases. Carmen goes to visit Frankie, who is wearing diamonds and nice clothes, at Husky's gym to borrow some money. Frankie tries to persuade Carmen to leave Joe, but she refuses. When she returns to Joe with a bag of groceries, he asks her how she got the money and they have a heated argument and Carmen leaves and goes to Husky's hotel suite. While playing cards with her friends, she draws the nine of spades. Evidently there is some sort of voodoo omen that says if you draw this card your death is imminent. As such, Carmen decides she’s going to live her last days to the hilt and takes up with Husky and a whole lot of liqueur.

Having had enough of Carmen’s wayward ways, Joe goes to the gym and orders Carmen home. When Carmen refuses to leave, Joe threatens Husky with a knife. Of course, this exposes Joe and leads the military police to start looking for him in Chicago. While Carmen helps Joe evade capture, she’s done with him. This is too much for Joe, and during one of Husky’s fights, Joe pulls Carmen into a storage closet and after she refuses to leave with him he strangles her to death with his bare hands just before the police arrive and lead him off to jail. See, that voodoo stuff ain’t no joke!

Both Belafonte and Dandridge were singers, so it might surprise some to learn that their singing was dubbed by LeVern Hutcherson and Marilynn Horne. This was done because neither Belafonte or Dandridge had the necessary voices to carry off the operatic singing. Yet, rest assured that Pearl Bailey did her own singing on "Beat Out Dat Rhythm On A Drum". All of the music is from Bizet’s original Carmen. Oscar Hammerstein II wrote the modern lyrics for the film.

Dorothy Dandridge is phenomenal as Carmen. She truly deserved her Oscar nomination—even is she didn’t do her own singing. The performance is multi-faceted in that viewers get to see her play both a sensual woman of the world as well as a woman torn by a compassionate nature towards Joe. It must have been dazzling to be the first African American woman nominated as a lead actress. It’s a shame that she had so many problems off-screen and also that she was working at a time in Hollywood when black actresses weren’t given many chances to shine. Though she did get another opportunity with Porgy and Bess, the last few years of her career and life were pretty dreary.

The music is great and the story is compelling. A truly wonderful musical that is entertaining and well-acted. In addition, the historical significance of this film is extraordinary.

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I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932) **

Get your mind out of the gutter—I’m not that type of girl!

Paul Muni plays James Allen, a returning WWI GI who finds unemployment and then is unjustly convicted of theft and sent to a southern prison to serve on a chain gang, in this classic 1932 film directed by Mervyn LeRoy. One of Warner Bros. social conscience films, and the recipient of three Academy Award nominations (Best Picture, Best Actor (Muni), and Best Sound), the film depicts the harsh world of the southern penal system in the 1920s. Based on the autobiographical story of Robert E. Burns, a man who became a fugitive from a Georgia chain gang, this is an excellent indictment of an abusive prison system.

When James Allen returns home from the Great War he wants to do more than go back to his clerk job in a shoe factory. Instead he wants to go to engineering school so he can build bridges. The problem is his mother (Louise Carter) and his reverend brother (Hale Hamilton) want him to stay at Mr. Parker’s (Reginald Barlow) shoe factory and pick up where he left off before the war. Not the arguing kind, he finds himself back at that factory, but is distracted by a bridge being built outside his office window and he decides to head north to find construction work. This sets him off on a transient existence, moving from place to place looking for work. Things become so bad that he tries to pawn his war medals to no avail; the owner already has a drawer full—a nod to the dire circumstances that war veterans faced at that time.

Eventually he finds himself back in the South and ends up meeting Pete (Preston Foster), the man who will fatefully change his life forever. When they go to a diner for hamburgers, Pete pulls a gun and orders a bewildered Allen to take the money from the till (a whopping $5). When the police arrive they kill Pete and assume Allen was his accomplice. He is convicted of armed robbery and sentenced to ten years of hard labor. Now, Allen is the member of chain gang that manually splits boulders at a rock pit. He endures blazing heat, vindictive guards, and substandard food and living conditions. When Allen makes the mistake of coming to the defense of another prisoner, he is flogged in his place. Though the actual beating takes place off-screen, LeRoy uses shadow silhouettes and agonizing screams to make his point.

After seven months of relentless work on the chain gang, Allen decides to escape. He has a fellow prisoner bend his shackles so he can slide it off his foot and he borrows $7 and the address of a former inmate from another. While taking a bathroom break in the bushes, Allen slips off his shackles and sets off for freedom. He exchanges his prison clothes for some hanging on a clothesline and uses the swamp to evade the bloodhounds. In an often imitated scene, Allen uses a hollow reed to breathe underwater while guards and digs pass by.

Allen ends up in Booneville and meets up with Barney, a former inmate who gives him a place to sleep for the night. The next day while he is waiting for a train he orders a hamburger (evidently bad luck for him) and hears that the police are looking for the escaped prisoner. In a near-miss episode, Allen finds himself scrambling onto a train as the police point in his direction but run past him for another man.

Free, Allen journeys to Chicago, where he gets a job (under an alias) at the Tri-State Engineering Company and works his way up the company ladder. He ends up boarding with a scheming landlady, Marie (Glenda Farrell), who sees a man on the rise and sets her cap for him. When Allen works his way up to a supervisor position he decides to get another place to live. This angers Marie and she reveals to Allen that she knows about his past and blackmails him into marrying her.

After years of hard work and study, Allen become a field superintendent and falls in love with Helen (Helen Vinson). Yet, he can’t get rid of Marie, who doesn’t care that he loves another woman. When he threatens her with a divorce she turns him in and he is arrested. His friends and the newspapers try to block his extradition to the South, especially after he describes how horrible the chain gang is. This causes a min-civil war between the northern and southern justice systems. Finally, Allen agrees to return to the prison for ninety days to work as a clerk, where thereafter he would be given a full pardon.

Once back in prison, Allen soon learns that this agreement won’t be kept by the Tuttle County Prison Camp. Instead, he is assigned to even harsher chain gang than before. After 90 days, his pardon hearing reveals that the state is angry with his public criticisms of their justice system and his pardon is denied but he is given the option of parole in nine months. Allen resigns himself to this nine month fate and is a model prisoner. Yet, when his case comes up again and a decision is suspended indefinitely, Allen decides he has to attempt another escape. He and another inmate escape the chain gang and steal a truck carrying dynamite, which they use to blow up a bridge to cut off the guards. It is interesting to note that LeRoy used the image of the blown up bridge to illustrate that Allen had now burned all his bridges of ever living a normal life again. A year later, we find Allen ragged and hunted. In a final meeting with Helen, he explains that they can never meet again. In one of the crueler instances of movie fate, when Helen asks him how he lives, he answers, “I steal.” All of this misery over $5! You won’t forget the image of this last scene.

This is the granddaddy of prison-break films. When you watch Cool Hand Luke, The Defiant Ones, or O Brother Where Art Thou?, you are watching films inspired by this one. It unapologetically exposed the horror of a system of forced labor in the South, which ground men down into nothing or into their graves. It angered southerners so much that it was actually banned in Georgia—where the real-life story of Robert E. Burns took place.

Paul Muni is excellent as a man who wants nothing more than to be a productive member of society. He always had the ability to encompass the true nature of all the characters he played, whether it be an escaped convict or Prime Minister Disraeli. In addition, the maliciousness of Glenda Farrell as Marie is something to watch.

A classic prison break film and one of Muni’s best performances.

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Boudu Saved From Drowning (1932) **

Are you someone who saw Down and Out in Beverly Hills back in 1986 (attired in some form of stone-washed denim or Lycra skirt) and thought it was hilarious? Yet, somehow, today if someone were to mention it you would say it was terrible and that contrary to what others might say, you never crimped your hair or made the mistake of thinking hair mousse was edible. Oh, the inescapable 80s.

Down and Out in Beverly Hills was a remake of this 1932 French black comedy directed by Jean Renoir and starring the irreverently funny Michel Simon as Boudu. Based on a play by René Fauchois, the story follows Boudu, a dirty, shaggy bum, who is saved from drowning himself in the Seine by bourgeois Parisian bookseller Edouard Lestingois (Charles Granval). The Lestingois family decides to adopt Boudu and make him a “respectable” member of society. They takes him into their home and he (and we) learn just how respectable middle-class Parisian society is!

It would seem that the respectable Edouard is a gentleman. He has a family, a business, and a maid (Séverine Lerczinska), who also happens to be his mistress. At first, his prim and proper wife (Marcelle Hainia) is disgusted by Boudu’s hygiene and poor table manners. Yet, over time she becomes strangely attracted to Boudu (after a haircut) and they have an affair. Meanwhile, Edouard can’t understand why Boudu isn’t more grateful to him for saving him and giving him a chance at respectability. Instead, what he finds is ingratitude from a man who just keeps asking him for more of everything: clothes, food, and money (as well as his wife). What’s comic about Edouard’s bewilderment is that Boudu has become just like him and, in a way, is unhappy. Another humorous turn happens when Boudu finds lottery tickets in one of the jackets Edouard gives him. When he shows them to Edouard the bookseller tells him to keep one for himself. This turns out to be a one-hundred thousand franc winner. With his newfound wealth Boudu is now respectable and marries the maid. Yet, at their wedding party something strange happens. While riding a skiff down the Seine, Boudu reaches down for a water lily and causes the skiff to overturn. While the wedding party swims to the banks, Boudu lets the current carry him away from them. He happily returns to his old, carefree life. In the end, he is saved from drowning in bourgeois respectability.

This film was not released in the United Stated until 1967, but when it got here it became an art house staple. What attracts most to this film is its biting criticism of middle class respectability. It was so scathing that it was banned in France only after a few days in release. Today it seems ridiculous that such a film could get banned, but evidently middle class Parisians couldn’t handle the truth of what they were really like.

Michel Simon is a comic genius as the unkempt Boudu. My favorite scene is when instead of spitting on the floor because he was told it was rude, he spits in a copy of Balzac's Physiology of Marriage. You need only know that the sub-title was Petty Troubles of Married Life to get the joke. Throughout the film Simon displays his adeptness at physical comedy and his perfect comic timing.

One of the things I most remember about the film is how Renoir shot the scenes at the Lestingois’ home and business. Most of the shots are very tight and the set is over-cluttered, which gives these scenes a claustrophobic feel. No doubt, Renoir was making a statement with this approach. And when you contrast the interior scenes to the exterior ones, which are airy and full-framed, you see an entirely different world.

Biting and irreverent, this is a black comedy worth watching.

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Love Me Tonight (1932) **1/2

But what about tomorrow?

Directed by Rouben Mamoulian, this 1932 romantic musical set the bar very high for subsequent musicals. Many critics cite it as one of the greatest and innovative musicals of the 1930s. Song and dialogue are cleverly woven together to tell the unlikely love story of a very frustrated Princess Jeanette (Jeanette MacDonald) and a handsome Parisian tailor named Maurice (Maurice Chevalier).

The beginning of the film is unforgettable, with a symphony of noises that captures the sounds of an awakening Paris and Chevalier singing “That’s the Song of Paree”. We learn that Maurice has just completed a job that will establish him as a first-rate tailor: 15 suits for the Viscount de Varese (Charlie Ruggles). The problem is the viscount can’t pay his bill, as he is financially dependent on his uncle the Duke (C. Aubrey Smith). While discussing his problem with his friend Emile they get on the topic of love and Maurice begins singing, “Isn’t It Romantic?” This launches one of the greatest musical numbers to grace the silver screen. Because the tune is so catchy it sticks in Emile’s head, and when he leaves the shop he starts humming it and as he does this it is picked up by a taxi driver and his composer passenger, who takes the song on a train where soldiers hear it and use it as they march in the fields, where a gypsy hears it and plays it on his violin back to his camp, where it finally carries over to the de Varese estate of Princess Jeanette, who sings it on her balcony. This song and its far-flung travels, now links Maurice and Jeanette even before they have met. The passing of the song from person to person was seamless and very cleverly done—sort of like what will later take place in Gigi.

The Princess it would seem is very unhappy and well, sexually frustrated. Just 22, she is the widow of a very old man. If she is to marry again she must find someone of equal royal rank, but this holds problems in itself, as there are only two eligible suitors: ages 85 and 12. What is an attractive widow to do?

While the Princess is busy being bored at the chateau, Maurice decides to take the Count’s 15 suits to the estate and collect payment. When he arrives at the chateau and gives his name, Maurice Courtelin, he is mistaken for a Baron Maurice Courtelin. He meets the princess and immediately falls in love with her. Not knowing he’s just a lowly tailor, the family and their guests are enamored with him and his singing of "Mimi"—so much so that they all begin singing it. The only two people who don’t quickly embrace his charms are the Princess and her would-be suitor the Count de Savignac (Charles Butterworth). One particular person who finds him irresistible is the Countess Valentine (Myrna Loy, in an outlandishly funny turn), who seems to be nymphomaniac. It was enjoyable to watch Loy as a man-hungry woman chasing after Maurice—especially when you consider Chevalier’s reputation as a ladies man.

Somehow a rumor emerges that Maurice is not a baron but a full-blooded prince traveling incognito. This changes everything and sends hope to the Princess, who now allows herself to open up to the charming Maurice. What is a love-stricken tailor to do? It’s obvious that she can’t marry a commoner…let alone a a common tailor. Will he tell her the truth? In the end all is revealed, but love conquerors all.

All together there are nine fantastically staged musical numbers by Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart. The songs are extremely catchy. If you have seen this film, you might just be humming “Mimi” or “Isn’t It Romantic” as you read this. Both MacDonald and Chevalier are delightful singers and carry their songs off very well. Some of the lyrics are quite racy for 1932, but somehow most of them, along with the double-entendre laden dialogue, got past censors—though 15 minutes did get cut (one can only wonder how far Mamoulian actually tried to go). In addition, the supporting cast of Myrna Loy, Charles Ruggles, and C. Aubrey Smith are tremendous.

If you love musicals, you will love this movie. A thoroughly enjoyable classic.

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