IF I HAD MY WAY (1940)

Bing Crosby’s two-fer deal @ Universal switched gears after the goofy, screwball charm of EAST OF HEAVEN’39 to maudlin sentiment & kiddie coloratura. Gloria Jean, Universal’s answer to Deanna Durbin . . . Wait! Full-stop. Deanna Durbin was at Universal! Did they really need two pubescent sopranos? (In her own way, Durbin could be very, very good, see ONE HUNDRED MEN AND A GIRL/’37. Jean, not so much. She barely lives on as the last of W. C. Fields’ child tormentors in NEVER GIVE A SUCKER AN EVEN BREAK/’41.*) Here, Jean’s an orphan girl, chaperoned to NYC by Bing to meet her new guardian, Uncle Allyn Joslyn. But he can’t be bothered and fobs them onto her Great-Uncle, retired vaudevillian Charles Winninger. You probably think you can guess the rest, but it’s even worse then you could imagine; they’ve got a pet squirrel and a kindly bank manger up their narrative sleeve. And Gloria’s apt to let loose with the roulades at any time while Bing responds with his inevitable mordénts, those little vocal turns that date his otherwise impeccable vocals. Well, there must have been an audience for this mush and there is some interest in seeing Bing shed his glib manner for the first time. (Maybe not such a good thing.) Right at the end, we get to see a few old-timey vaudeville stars (Blackface ALERT!), but they must have left the best routines on the cutting room floor.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Durbin & Jean may seem hopelessly old-fashioned, yet Charlotte Church and newbies like Hannah Jewell & Jackie Evancho are pulling the same stunt for new generations . . . and with a lot less vocal allure.

YOIDORE TENSHI / DRUNKEN ANGEL (1948)

Akira Kurosawa was a ‘natural’ from the moment he called his first shot, but it took half a dozen films before he became ‘Kurosawa.’ And this is the film that did it. Takashi Shimura, already a regular, stars as a cantankerous middle-aged doctor who curses his slum clientele & dreams of a high-class trade. Yet he can’t keep from worrying too much about his ungrateful patients, even that new TB case, a violent, self-destructive local Yukuza kingpin: Toshiro Mifune in his first of 13 Kurosawa pics.* While these two butt heads over treatment options, Mifune’s rapid physical decline is impacting on his neighborhood clout. An old rival, fresh out of jail, is scoping out Mifune’s territory as well as a former lover, now the good doctor’s assistant. Kurosawa’s emerging style orchestrates in quick-step, with info-packed compositions and an occasional reflective moment between skillful set pieces, leading to a fight in a narrow hallway that literally paints Mifune into a corner before climaxing with a visual epiphany accomplished by simply opening a double door. Unforgettable stuff. Don’t let a bit of corny melodrama & overstated acting (or some pat philosophizing) put you off. You’d be missing a lot, especially Mifune's star-making turn of a glamorous, fatalistic gangster that must have hit Japanese cinema like Cagney in THE PUBLIC ENEMY/’31 and prefigures Brando & Elvis. (Check out that hair!)

DOUBLE-BILL: Shimura & Mifune would reunite next year for Kurosawa’s first flat-out masterpiece, STRAY DOG; then RASHOMON as chaser.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Technically, Kurosawa is considered the most Western-influenced of classic Japanese helmers, yet his themes often decry the rise of Western culture. Here, for example, the gangsters adopt a Western style in clothes, drink & music. So too Mifune’s anti-hero with his über-West attitudes & look. The pic was a sensation partly because everyone wanted to emulate this cool cat.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY II: *In RED BEARD/’65, their final collaboration, Mifune more-or-less plays the wise old doctor played here by Shimura, though Kurosawa lets him kick butt to close Part I of that frustrating pic.

EAST SIDE OF HEAVEN (1939)

Universal borrowed Bing Crosby from his home studio (Paramount) for this unprepossessing, but good-natured comedy-with-music, a working-class screwball farce. Bing’s a Singing Telegram messenger who loses his job and gains a year-old tyke when the kid’s mom leaves town to track down her wastrel hubby. Along with Joan Blondell, Bing’s ever-patient fiancé, and his under-employed roommate (Mischa Auer, fun company even without a speck of decent material), they try to keep things on the QT. After all, that kid’s valuable property with a rich bossy grandfather (C. Aubrey Smith) and a nosy radio gossip (Jerome Cowan) hot on his trail; he's a diapered missing heir! Miraculously, considering the cutesy set-up, the film keeps the comic misunderstandings to a minimum, quickly explaining each new complication and moving on to the next, nobody has to act dumb just to keep the plot on track. No doubt, this is possible because a third of the running time is taken up by music spots for Der Bingle. Alas, the songs are no more than pleasant. But in its modest way, this is an exemplary programmer; put over with a snappy pace by David Butler who’d make three more pics with Bing, including THE ROAD TO MOROCCO/’42 back @ Paramount.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: The next time you read one of those sexually revisionist bios note the sleeping arrangement for Bing & Mischa in their little apartment. Yep, people of the same sex used to share a bed. No fuss, no sweat, no turning! And saved a bit of cash. Here, the joke isn’t sharing the bed with another guy, but with a little kid. That’s too much!

HOME (1968 or 1971*)

British playwright & novelist David Storey built his rep in the Angry-Young-Men school of socially conscious, working-class drama, always with Lindsay Anderson helming on stage (THE CHANGING ROOM); on screen (THIS SPORTING LIFE/’63; or both (IN CELEBRATION/’75). HOME, also with Anderson, was something different, a verbal badminton game for two elderly gents, eventually joined by a mismatched pair of ladies and a slow-thinking hulk. It’s a plotless character study that idles away a morning in chat, than returns after lunch for a rematch, all on the grounds of a sanitarium of some sort. Of what, we never quite find out. A retirement home for elderly?, for mental decline?, a reformatory?, for criminal inclinations?, family abandonment?, or is everyone just waiting for Godot? Storey isn’t letting on. It’s intriguing, in theory, but Storey’s writing hasn’t really held up. And if much of his work now reads like Harold Pinter without the threatening undertow, this one sounds like Beckett-lite. Happily, the original production, reproduced here, was a triumph thanks to a brilliant casting idea that brought in two legendary Old Guard stars to tease out the pseudo-enigmatic dialogue. John Gielgud & Ralph Richardson bring such a limitless range of ‘humours’ to their characters, pricking each other’s egos with deflating comic nuance (seemingly teased out of thin air), wicked befuddlement (mostly Richardson), chilling despair (mostly Gielgud) and melancholy for an England that’s become hard to discern from their current vantage point.

*The production was apparently taped in ‘68, but the 1971 copyright probably means it aired after its B’way engagement.

DOUBLE-BILL: Mona Washbourne, who plays the limping lady-friend with the horse-laugh, can be seen at her best in another stage-to-screen hybrid, STEVIE/’78, where she’s mother to poet Stevie Smith, played by Glenda Jackson who’s also at her best.

PANIQUE AU VILLAGE / A TOWN CALLED PANIC (2009)

If you’ve ever wondered what might happen when a couple of plastic figurines (Cowboy & Indian) tried to order 50 bricks on the internet . . . and mistakenly punched in 50,000,000,000!, this is the film for you! Two crafty Belgian miscreants, Stéphen Aubier & Vincent Patar, are largely responsible for this bit of stop-animation heaven about a small town populated with toy figures on little pedestals who live, work, go to school & play in a world of model vehicles, faux terrain & putty homes. It’s a dreamscape for a playful seven-yr old, with a kid's fits of impatience & sudden violence added to the circular logic of Edward Lear, the speed & technical breeziness of SOUTH PARK and the try-anything tone & goofy charm of SPONGE BOB SQUARE PANTS on acid. You, and any youngster you may know, will either sit in stunned silence at the absurd adventures on land & sea, particularly at the derring-do & romantic nature of Horse, or you may giggle helplessly as the town tumbles from crisis to crisis, panicking at every turn. Best of all, this silly childhood idyll comes a la carte, without a speck of snark or wiseguy cultural Pop references in the mix. (Take that, DreamWorks!) Zeitgeist distribution didn’t have a clue on how to market this treat in the States - an innocent Belgian kiddie pic for hipsters? - but don’t let that hold you back. Why not try this as an entry into subtitles for early readers? Train ‘em while they’re still young.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: The comically speedy small town postman in PANIQUE is something of a European tradition. (Except in Italy, where he’s comically slow! - see IL POSTINO/’94.) It’s a running gag that long pre-dates Jacques Tati in JOUR DE FÊTE/’49, but where does it come from?

A FREE SOUL (1931)

Norma Shearer is divinely dressed & decadent as the free-thinking daughter of alcoholic mob lawyer Lionel Barrymore in this irresistible Pre-Code morality tale. Pop’s just used a hat trick to get Clark Gable off on a murder rap* and though Norma’s engaged to that nice Leslie Howard (a ranked polo player!), she’s drawn to Gable’s dangerous glamor. Shearer had just worked similar terrain in last year’s THE DIVORCEE/’30, but what a difference a year has made in Talkie technique and film acting. (Both films come on a single DVD, so it’s easy to compare. Still, no background music, but Leo the lion has found his roar.) Director Clarence Brown shook off much of his early Talkie stiffness here (and even more in POSSESSED/’31 with Joan Crawford & Gable), with dramatic compositions that bring him back to his silent film form and which must have been a breeze to edit. (Producer Irving Thalberg, Shearer’s husband, was notorious for reshooting & generally over-hauling things, but you don’t see many signs of it here.) The film isn’t without its corny elements, but it’s so ‘all-of-a-piece’ stylistically that it’s able to coast over many a dramatic sin. It even holds a few fresh dramatic surprises, especially from that clever Leslie Howard who does wonders with his seemingly soppy part. (You’ll see why Howard was so reluctant to play second-fiddle to Gable’s Rhett Butler on GWTW.)

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *Ever wonder where O.J. Simpson’s lawyers got the idea for their ‘if the glove won’t fit you can’t convict’ routine? Watch Barrymore, Gable & the hat.

READ ALL ABOUT IT:: As mentioned in the Write-Up of this film’s wan remake, THE GIRL WHO HAD EVERYTHING/’53, gal reporter extraordinaire Adela Rogers St. Johns based the source novel on her life with her famous dad, Earl Rogers, and revisited the material in her non-fiction memoir FINAL VERDICT, written three decades later.

300 (2006)

Frank Miller & Lynn Varley used a graphic novel to retell the Battle of Thermopylae, that legendary tale of Strategy, Sacrifice & 300 Spartans in the most famous delaying action of military history. (It's sort of like the Alamo with Greeks in the fort and Persians knocking on the door . . . and everyone half-naked.) Flamboyantly visualized in DC Comic mode, the book was ready-made for easy video exploitation, but Zach Snyder’s film pumps it up even further, semi-historical Greek mythology as Arena Rock. It works, but it also works you over. Lots of blood-spilling Sacrifice; not so much cunning Strategy. We never do get a clear look at those Persian hordes being funneled into the Gates of Fire. And why not cut over to show the enemy’s flanking maneuver on that secret goat path? Hasn’t Snyder discovered parallel editing? Maybe he should have a look at D. W. Griffith’s INTOLERANCE/’16.

READ ALL ABOUT IT: While never capturing the ‘otherness’ of ancient Greece as Mary Renault did in her mythological novels, THE KING MUST DIE and THE BULL FROM THE SEA, Steven Pressfield’s GATES OF FIRE brings a fine, realistic eye, and great pace, to the story of the 300.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Groucho Marx, talking about SAMSON AND DELILAH/’49, ‘No movie can hold my interest where the leading man’s tits are bigger than the leading lady’s.' Exactly.

CAROLA (1972)

Discouraged after the mangled English-language release of ELENA ET LES HOMMES/’56 (aka- PARIS DOES STRANGE THINGS), Jean Renoir wrote this 3-act play about a Paris theater company struggling thru the Nazi occupation. But it wasn’t performed until Norman Lloyd (the actor Hitchcock dangled off the Statue of Liberty in SABOTEUR/’42) produced & directed it (on video tape) for PBS/L.A. (In basic 'Golden-Age' TV style.) The premise sounds promising: While continuing to perform a boulevard drama on-stage, the cast & crew of a small theater company play out a real-life boulevard farce backstage. Feydeau would have recognized the situations: a vain leading lady & her dresser juggle a past lover who hopes to rekindle their affair; a star-struck virgin who finds himself stuck in a closet; her current lover, the manager who’s forced to escort a couple of interfering inspectors while he’s cuckolded; and an old gossipy actor who can’t keep his mouth shut. But this farce is happening in wartime, so the gags stick in your throat, the comedy curdles & turns tragic. Alas, Renoir the playwright is no Renoir the filmmaker. He’s hemmed in by his single-set structure, he can't take adavantage of the mirror effect of play reality vs backstage reality and he loses the sense of urgency from our virginal resistance fighter? If he’s fleeing the Gestapo, why does he hang around for an autograph? Perhaps a more nuanced actor than Michael Sacks could have made this work, but there are compensating perfs from Leslie Caron as the actress; Carmen Zapata as her dresser; Anthony Zerbe as the opportunistic theatre-manager; and Mel Ferrer, unusually good as the German General who is Caron’s ex. There’s a whiff of GRAND ILLUSION’s Rauffenstein (the von Stroheim character) about him. NOTE: No poster from this tv production, but here's a recent one from a stage revival. And in the original French!)

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: François Truffaut probably never saw this, but he was very close to Renoir and must have known of this play since it’s the likely inspiration for THE LAST METRO/’80, his marvelous WWII Nazi-occupation backstager. Jean would have approved.

BLOOD AND SAND (1941)

While the title to Vincente Blasco Ibañez’s novel still reverberates with dramatic promise, its tale of the rise & fall of a country lad turned bullfighter has been dulled by decades of ripoffs & repetition. But as reimagined by director Rouben Mamoulian, especially in its restored TechniColor glory, the familiar tropes come up vibrant & believable. At least, for the first half. The prologue is a visual tour de force as young Juan sneaks out of bed to dash thru town, peek at the local bullfighting afficionados then head off into a moonlit countryside. There, he steals onto a rich man’s estate and challenges a solitary bull in a private ring. For a reel & a half, we’re watching a masterpiece: color, pace, romance, Spanish atmosphere, the works. And when we jump ahead ten years, now with Tyrone Power as the young matador, the achievement only marginally dims. Mamoulian uses a Spanish palette (Velasquez, El Greco, di Chirico, Goya) as visual inspiration, but avoids getting trapped by them. Instead, he’s trapped by a woman, Rita Hayworth, who stops the film cold. Rita is properly gorgeous as the rich temptress who drags Juan down from his better instincts, but she seems to have had much the same effect on the film’s creative staff. Suddenly, the film looks (and plays) like Hollywood kitsch. While fine things show up in the second half (a startling slap to John Carrardine, a sultry dance for Hayworth & Anthony Quinn as Power’s friend turned rival, a slaughtered bull for the poor), Mamoulian is unable to keep the film unaffected by the more obvious elements in Jo Swerling’s script. But it’s still hard to shake off the harsh light that blasts into the chambers underneath the arena where the bullfighters wait before meeting up with their fate.