Showing posts sorted by relevance for query mantan moreland. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query mantan moreland. Sort by date Show all posts

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Mill Creek comedy classics #3: "Freckles Comes Home" (1942)

Clearly, the fun never stops in Freckles Comes Home. Actually, this is the funniest scene.

The flick: Freckles Comes Home (Monogram Pictures, 1942) [buy the set]

Current IMDb rating: 5.0

Director: Jean Yarbrough (The Devil Bat, Jack and the Beanstalk, TV's The Abbott and Costello Show)

Actors of note
  • Johnny Downs (The Crowd, Babes in Toyland)
  • Gale Storm (It Happened on Fifth Avenue, TV's My Little Margie)
  • Mantan Moreland (The Palm Beach Story, Spider Baby, the Charlie Chan series)

The gist of it: An impetuous young man, "Freckles" Winslow, returns home from college to tiny Fairfield, IN (pop. 500) to help his gullible friend Danny, who's purchased some real estate with money that wasn't strictly his to invest. To further complicate matters, "Freckles" has also unwittingly convinced a fugitive mobster to hide out in Fairfield. One bad apple soon attracts others to the town who hope to fleece a local banker, and before you know it, there are shootings, stabbings, and robberies galore. Meanwhile, poor "Freckles" has to win back the affection of his girl, who's fallen for one of the gangsters, and ensure that a highway runs through Fairfield. Luckily, a car accident solves everything.

My take: As you can see from that plot summary -- which doesn't even cover half of it -- Freckles Comes Home is quite a busy little picture. Somehow, it still manages to find time for a few totally gratuitous musical numbers and extended comedy sequences in which Mantan Moreland squares off against fellow black menial Laurence Criner. The title implies that the film is a sequel, and the script takes it for granted that we already know and care about most of these characters. As it turns out, the original Freckles was a 1904 novel by Gene Stratton-Porter which has been adapted into a movie at least four times (and also inspired 1992's City Boy), but none of the actors from those films are present in Freckles Comes Home. Instead, this sequel is based on a 1929 novel by Gene's daughter, Jeannette Stratton-Porter, who continued the Freckles saga after her mother died in 1924. I was unfamiliar with any of this, and Freckles Comes Home did not exactly leave me hungry for more.

As the title character, Johnny Downs (who has no freckles that I could see) comes across like a bargain-basement substitute for Jimmy Stewart. The plot twists come fast and furious, but the whole thing seems very contrived, and there is very little sense of what small town life is like.

One of Mantan Moreland's "party records."
Is it funny: Only fitfully. Freckles himself is something of a cipher, and neither pal Danny nor love interest Jane is particularly compelling either. Jane's dad, money-hungry Mr. Potter, is somewhat fun in a Milburn Drysdale kind of way, particularly in a scene in which "Freckles" visits the Potter home with one of the gangsters in tow, only to see the pencil mustache-wearing crook charm the father and the daughter instantly, leaving "Freckles" himself the odd man out.

I'd say the best character in the film is the town's ornery yet totally ineffectual constable, Caleb Weaver, played by the awesomely-named Irving Bacon who appeared as a bit actor in some of Hollywood's greatest classics. Caleb is sort of a proto-Barney Fife, suspicious of everyone and quick to accuse others but never on the right track and not much of a credible threat. He gets what, to me, is the film's funniest line: "Gosh all fishhooks!"

Then we must consider the servile role played in this film by Mantan Moreland, a comedian and actor who was directly influenced by the infamous Stepin Fechit. Moreland is clearly a talented  performer with great comic timing and an expressive face he uses to its best advantage. In his highly-recommended book, Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies, & Bucks: An Interpretive History of Blacks in American Films, historian Donald Bogle credits him with having "the fastest eyes in the West."

 But Moreland's style of comic buffoonery has definitely gone out of style in 2013. It had, in fact, fallen out of favor during the actor's own lifetime. His character here -- a hotel porter -- is both slow-witted and dishonest (he buys a fraudulent "gold-divining machine" and then tries to sell it), not to mention cowardly, selfish, and inarticulate. Let's not judge him too harshly, though. Moreland was giving white audiences what they wanted because that's what paid the bills. Incidentally, he had a second career as a stand-up comic catering to the black audience. One of his bits, involving carnal relations with mashed potatoes, has become a classic in some circles.

My grade: C+

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Mill Creek comedy classics #20: "The Gang's All Here" (1941)

Either that gunman is gigantic or Jackie Moran and Marcia Mae Jones are tiny in The Gang's All Here.

The flick: The Gang's All Here (Monogram Pictures, 1941) [buy the set]

Current IMDb rating: 6.3

Director: Jean Yarbrough (Freckles Comes Home)

Actors of note:
  • Frankie Darro (voice of Lampwick in Pinocchio; played Robby the Robot in Forbidden Planet)
  • Keye Luke (the old Chinese man in both Gremlins movies; played "number one son" in the Charlie Chan series, much more)
  • Marcia Mae Jones (The Way We Were, Heidi, Imitation of Life)
  • Jackie Moran (Gone with the Wind; played Huckleberry Finn in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; Russ Meyer's Wild Gals of the Naked West)
  • Robert Homans (The Grapes of Wrath, The Maltese Falcon)

The gist of it: A large number of "accidents," some fatal, have been plaguing a certain trucking company. Now, Pop Wallace (Homans) is having trouble finding anyone to drive his trucks. Nervy pipsqueak Frankie (Darro) and his lazy, bug-eyed black sidekick Jeff (Moreland) answer Pop's newspaper ad. He's reluctant and highly skeptical, but he gives them the job anyway because he's desperate. Meanwhile, Pop's pushy, demanding daughter Patsy (Jones) is always hounding her grease-monkey boyfriend Chick (Moran) to be more of a take-charge kind of guy... a real go-getter, like Frankie. The so-called accidents are intentional sabotage by a gang of crooks who have forced Pops to be part of their scheme, and it isn't long before Frankie and Jeff find themselves in real trouble.

Keye Luke
My take: If you hear the term "trucker comedy," you're liable to think of mudflaps, CB lingo, and the music of Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard. But The Gang's All Here is from an earlier era, before the big rigger enjoyed his brief heyday as an anti-establishment, good ol' boy hero in the 1970s. The song "Convoy" wouldn't be written for a few more decades yet. The rigs ain't all that big in this flick, and the drivers aren't transporting anything cool like dynamite or beer, just "perishables" to a Fresno grocery store.

The film actually works a little better as a crime thriller than a comedy. If you'll notice, a lot of the folks from Freckles Comes Home are reunited here, and like that film, The Gang's All Here -- an utterly meaningless title, by the way, unless it's an oblique reference to the film's many gangsters  -- features more murder and mayhem than you'd normally expect from a comedy. The first few minutes, in fact, are nothing but trucks being run off the road and tumbling down cliffs, followed by a montage of headlines about the drivers who have been killed and maimed. It's a weird start to a supposedly funny film, but it does lend a sense of real urgency to the plot. Frankie and Jeff really are in trouble!

I should mention, by the way, that Mantan Moreland's character in this film is scarcely more admirable than his one in Freckles Comes Home, except that Moreland does eventually become sort of valuable to Frankie as a sidekick. But Moreland subserviently refers to his friend as "Mister Frankie," and once again, the movie stops dead so that he and Laurence Criner (whose character is embarrassingly named "Ham Shanks") can do little comedy bits that emphasize Moreland's dishonesty and Criner's stupidity. Not a proud moment for humanity.

But there's hope elsewhere in the film! Keye Luke, the incredibly prolific character actor, plays a Chinese-American character who speaks English fluently and is portrayed in an entirely flattering and positive light. You could even argue that his character is the real hero of this movie. That genuinely surprised me.

Lampwick: Still terrifying.
Is it funny: It's not overly funny, no. It's not a total washout as a comedy, though. Marcia Mae Jones is somewhat fun as the mouthy, never-satisfied Patsy. What Chick sees in her (other than her chipmunk-cute looks) is beyond me, but she's more interesting than the bland love interests in a lot of these movies. The cowardice and laziness of Mantan Moreland's character make him a relic of a bygone era, but the man clearly had a flair for comedy. His timing and delivery are impeccable, even when the material he's given isn't up to snuff.

And then there's the ostensible star of this flick, Frankie Darro, probably best known for traumatizing generations of children as the voice of Lampwick in Disney's Pinocchio. His transformation into a donkey remains terrifying, over 70 years later. His character here, also named Frankie, is a loudmouth whose braggadocio is undercut by his small stature. You know how little dogs are often the most aggressive, challenging much larger dogs to fights they can't possibly win? That's Frankie Darro -- a yappy little Chihuahua who goes around snapping at pit bulls. As someone whose family has always had dogs, I found that rather amusing.

My grade: B-

P.S. - Mantan Moreland and Laurence Criner won't be up for any NAACP Image awards for this film.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 34: "Married Too Young" (1962)

Married Too Young, a movie featuring (let's never forget) Alluring Provocative Marla.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long."
-The Beach Boys, "Wouldn't It Be Nice?" (1966)

"They try to tell us we're too young."
-Nat "King" Cole, "Too Young" (1951)

"I have a girlfriend. She says I'm her only one. We wanna get married, but we're so young."
- The Students, "I'm So Young" (1958)

The conjoined Hilton sisters in Chained for Life.
It is now time to turn our attentions to George Moskov (1893-1970). Never heard of him? You're forgiven. His filmography tells the story of yet another hardworking foot soldier of the mid-20th century movie industry, in which he worked mostly "below the line" as they say in Hollywood.

In a bizarre coincidence that I swear is not meant to capitalize on recent headlines, Mr. Moskov is Ukrainian by birth. Way back in 1932, in fact, he wrote a Croatian-language film called Ljubav i strast (which translates as Love and Passion) for an outfit called Yugoslavian Pictures, Inc. Other than this early outlier, his credits are largely confined to the 1940s, '50s, and '60s. Along the way, George worked as a producer, writer, and second unit director, but most of his career was spent as a production manager, making sure that various small-time film productions operated on-schedule and on-budget.

About a week ago, I heard an interview on the Projection Booth podcast with a producer-director named Larry Cohen (It's Alive, The Stuff, Maniac Cop), who said he usually paid his production managers to stay home and out of his hair. Then why have them on the payroll at all? Union requirement, explained Cohen. But George Moskov seems to have been one of the good, reliable ones in the biz, lasting over 30 years and encompassing all kinds of films, from a Western with Ronald Reagan (1955's Tennessee's Partner) to an entry in the Charlie Chan franchise with Sidney Toler and Mantan Moreland (1944's Charlie Chan in the Secret Service). Moskov seems to have worked on plenty of low-budget crime dramas but wasn't tied to any particular genre or subgenre. He only directed one feature -- the penny-ante flick we're covering this week.

For fans of outre cinema, Moskov's most intriguing credit is probably Chained for Life (1952), for which he is listed as both a producer and a production manager. This rather notorious film, directed by Harry L. Fraser (whom I discussed a bit in my article on The Bride and the Beast), was a never-to-be-repeated vehicle for Violet and Daisy Hilton, the conjoined twin sisters from Freaks (1932). It is from a book about the Hilton sisters, Dean Jensen's The Lives and Loves of Daisy and Violet Hilton: A True Story of Conjoined Twins (Random House, 2006), that I was able to get this biographical sketch of Moskov:
Jensen's book
A movie man of long, rich, and varied experience, Moskov had apprenticed with the highly regarded producer Lewis Milestone. In the late 1930s, Moskov launched his own career as a producer, shepherding the development of such solid hits as Angel Island (1937), Joe Palooka, Champ (1946), Isle of the Missing Men (1947), Heading for Heaven (1947), and Search for Danger (1949). Only months before he was approached by [idea man Ross] Frisco, Moskov had completed Champagne for Caesar, a sparkling, critically well-received comedy about radio quiz shows. The film featured such A-list stars of the day as Ronald Colman, Celeste Holm, and Barbara Britton, and boasted a score by Dimitri Tiomkin. It was perhaps surprising that a producer of Moskov's credentials would agree to participate in a film project as amorphously defined as Frisco's Chained for Life. He may have been impressed that the sisters themselves were entirely underwriting the project and that he would be spared the responsibility for raising any of the production costs.
Author Dean Jensen then goes on to describe the screenwriter of Chained for Life, Nat Tanchuck (1912-1978), who is also the credited screenwriter on Married Too Young:
A graduate of the University of Southern California, Tanchuck worked as a newspaper reporter, a short story writer, a movie reviewer for trade publications, a public relations flak, and a developer of scripts for radio and television. But at the time he was tabbed by Moskov, Tanchuck could only claim credits as an assistant writer on three pictures, all of them forgettable: Federal Man, I Killed Geronimo, and Timber Fury. Moskov was probably not in a position to attract a more seasoned writer for the project.
The relative novice Nat Tanchuck must have done something to impress producer George Moskov, since they worked together a decade later on another film -- that is, the one we're covering this week. For the most part, though, Tanchuck stuck to the small screen, penning lots and lots of TV Westerns, including episodes of such ratings titans as The Virginian, Bonanza, and Wagon Train... as well as such slightly less-remembered oaters as Fury, The Adventures of Jim Bowie, and The Restless Gun. By the time Married Too Young rolled around, director Moskov would have been in his late sixties, while writer Tanchuck would have been approaching 50. Neither had any experience in writing youth-oriented films at all. Is it possible, then, that these men sought the input and guidance of Edward D. Wood, Jr., who would have been a relatively youthful 38 and had at least some background in teen-sploitation? Well, that's the going theory. Let's examine the case up close, eh?

M A R R I E D   T O O   Y O U N G   (1962)

Apparently, this was a big issue back in 1962.

Alternate title: I Married Too Young

Availability: That's sort of a bugaboo when it comes to this film. There have been a few VHS editions of the film, including releases from Hollywood Home Theater and Sinister Cinema, but these are out of print. Sinister later put this film out as a DVD-R, but the company no longer lists the film on its website. A Retromedia DVD release was supposed to have happened in the 1990s, following on the heels of Tim Burton's Ed Wood, but nothing whatsoever seems to have come of this, other than a trailer (which you can see on the Big Box of Wood DVD collection).

Filmmaker Fred Olen Ray has recently promised via Facebook that Married Too Young is "coming to DVD 16x9 from the original 35mm negative this year." In the meantime, if you are truly horny to see this flick, I will direct you to the Video Beat, a Something Weird-esque company that specializes in DVDs of vintage rock movies and TV shows. Their edition of the film ($19.99) comes complete with a few trailers and a 1966 episode of The Donna Reed Show featuring guest star Lesley Gore.

The backstory: Russian-born director? Check. A star whose father is a famous comedian? Check. Early 1960s release date? Check. Socially-relevant, torn-from-the-headlines plot? Check. A bunch of twenty-somethings portraying troubled high schoolers? Check. Uncredited, possibly apocryphal script work by Ed Wood? Checkmate. With all these factors in common, Married Too Young makes an obvious companion piece to last week's film, Anatomy of a Psycho. Both films are essentially byproducts of the newfound freedom and autonomy American teenagers attained during the 1950s, as they now had money of their own to spend and free time in which to spend it. Thanks to improvements in technology and a postwar economic boom, young people were, for the first time in the nation's history, building their own parallel society divorced from that of their parents. More than ever, films, magazines, clothing, music and more were being manufactured specifically for kids, with little regard for what their parents might think.

Obviously, many grownups were alarmed about this state of affairs and felt they were losing control of their own children. Thus was born the Golden Age of Juvenile Delinquency, a natural topic for the movies. But while Psycho dealt with violence, Married Too Young dealt, albeit obliquely, with an even more uncomfortable topic -- sex -- even though that troublesome word is never once even uttered in the film. And like so many schlock films of the era, the tone of Married Too Young is dour, preachy, and judgmental, so the filmmakers could always claim that their work was intended as moral instruction rather than crass exploitation.

The newlyweds, Helen and Tommy.
The plot is very simple. High school senior Tommy Blaine (Harold Lloyd, Jr.) is a part-time race car driver and auto mechanic who aspires to become a doctor. He also wants to go "all the way" with his steady squeeze, rich girl Helen Newton (Jana Lund), but they know that having sex outside of marriage is wrong. So they zip across the state line, where the Justice of the Peace (David Bond) is only too happy to unite them in holy matrimony. Helen's snooty parents (Trudy Marshall and Brian O'Hara) are aghast at the news, and Tommy's working class slob parents (Nita Loveless and Lincoln Demyan) aren't too thrilled either, but they're stuck with the unfortunate situation.

The young marrieds try living at Tommy's house, which doesn't work, then at Helen's house, which is worse. After Tommy gets a modest raise from his boss at the garage (George Cisar), he decides to buy a house for himself and his bride, but he quickly gets into serious debt. So against his better judgment, he gets involved with a slimy gangster appropriately named Grimes (Anthony Dexter), who hires him to modify then deliver stolen cars. Not too long into this assignment, Tommy manages to attract the attention of the cops and, in his panic, drives himself and poor Helen over a cliff. Barely scratched, Tommy and Helen go to court, where a benevolent judge (Richard Davies) releases them into the custody of their parents, to whom he gives a stern lecture about the importance of love and understanding. The end.

Heather Tanchuck
But how, exactly, does Edward D. Wood, Jr. fit into the picture? Did he work on Married Too Young at all? Well, Heather Tanchuck, the daughter of credited screenwriter Nathaniel "Nat" Tanchuck, has some very strong opinions on the subject, which she expressed to an Ed Wood fan site through e-mail. To wit:
The movie Married Too Young was NOT partially written by Ed Wood. My father, Nathaniel Tanchuck, wrote the entire movie, and I would truly appreciate this if you would correct your site. I was a child, I have a copy of the script, I visited the movie set. Ed Wood worked at Hal Roach or some other studio at the same time as my father, but my dad, Nathaniel Tanchuck, is the only writer of Married Too Young.

Weldon's film guide.
Is she right? Married Too Young is not included in Rudolph Grey's exhaustive Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood, Jr. None of the interviewees even mention George Moskov or Nat Tanchuck. And Ed didn't include the film in his own self-curated list of movie credits that he presented to Fred Olen Ray. But the film is nevertheless indexed in Ed Wood's filmography at both the Internet Movie Database and Phillip R. Frey's Ed Wood Online site. It also receives a full write-up in Rob Craig's Ed Wood, Mad Genius: A Critical Study of the Films, where it is sandwiched between Revenge of the Virgins and Shotgun Wedding in the "Sexploitation Superstar" chapter. And in his seminal book, The Psychotronic Video Guide to Film  (Macmillan, 1996), critic Michael Weldon says, "Apparently, while Ed Wood was making The Sinister Urge for Headliner Productions, they had him co-write this very dated movie about overage 'teens.'"

The Video Beat's DVD of the film also plays up Ed Wood's involvement, and it seems likely that any further life Married Too Young may have is due entirely to its connection to Wood. Rob Craig's book traces the attribution to Sinister Cinema, the film's erstwhile home video distributor: "According to Greg Luce at Sinister Cinema, a producer for Headliner Productions claimed that Wood was brought in to finish up the troubled production, and can be credited with the last 15 minutes or so of the completed film."

Ed Wood did work for Headliner on multiple occasions. That company produced two iron-clad, bona fide Ed Wood movies: The Violent Years (1956) and The Sinister Urge (1960). Craig concentrates his critical attention on those last 15 minutes and finds within them several Wood-ian motifs, including a "bizarre dream-montage," plus "the miraculous 'resurrection' from certain death of the heroes," and a "stern moral lecture." The critic concludes: "Surely, the spirit of Ed Wood hovers over this final reel of Married Too Young." It may or may not. And don't call me Shirley. (Could Craig, in fact, be punning on Ed Wood's drag name here?)

One crucial fact missing from the film's opening titles is the name of its producer. We are merely told that Married Too Young was "produced by Headliner Productions, Inc." Roy Reid was the producer of The Violent Years and The Sinister Urge, but his familiar moniker does not appear here.

Sexy "bad girl" Marianna Hill steals a few scenes.
The most famous name in the film's credits is easily that of Harold Lloyd, Jr. (1931-1971), youngest son of the famed silent comedian of the 1920s whose sound films never quite caught on as they should have. Having made a disastrous attempt at a comeback with 1947's The Sin of Harowhld Diddlebock for director Preston Sturges, Lloyd the Elder was retired by the time his son decided to take a crack at the family business in 1950.

Never a great success, often an outright failure, Lloyd the Younger landed his first big role in his early twenties in the arson drama The Flaming Urge (1953). From there, he stuck mainly to lowbrow, low-budget fare, such as Frankenstein's Daughter (1958), Girls Town (1959), and Sex Kittens Go to College (1960). His eccentric father is said to have been unusually supportive and forgiving through all of his son's personal and professional pitfalls. Lloyd's private life, in which he overindulged in alcohol and had a penchant for rough gay sex, was infinitely more interesting than any of his films. The bland Married Too Young was pretty much his last hurrah. After a supporting role in Mutiny in Outer Space in 1965, he was done. The debilitating effects of a stroke left him unable to work, so there were no further film or TV appearances. A decade after Married Too Young, Harold Lloyd, Jr. was dead at the very young age of 40.

Lloyd's Married costar, Joanna Lund (1933-1991), has at least one Elvis movie (1957's Loving You) on her resume, plus appearances on TV shows like Dragnet and Sea Hunt as well as such classic rocksploitation flicks as Don't Knock the Rock and High School Hellcats. Villainous Anthony Dexter (1913-2001) was on the back half of his film career when he did Married Too Young. He'd previously played the title role in the biopic Valentino (1951). Other notable credits include a couple of MST3K movies, Fire Maidens of Outer Space (1956) and The Phantom Planet (1961), plus the lavish musical Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967) and the usual slew of TV work.

The most accomplished member of the cast, however, is probably the requisite "bad girl," Marianna Hill (b. 1941), one of the few major cast members who's still alive. This was very, very early in her long and varied Hollywood career -- her first feature film, though she'd already been racking up TV gigs for two years by that point. Hill's credits include the Oscar-winning sequel The Godfather: Part II (1974) plus High Plains Drifter (1973) as well as episodes of Star Trek and Batman. Given her sultry good looks, it's no surprise to learn that she also worked as a model.

By the way, here's a little delight that recently turned up on an Ed Wood Facebook group: an original 1962 Married Too Young pressbook that was sent by Headliner Productions to exhibitors planning to show the film. It contains some production details about Married Too Young, as well as newspaper advertisements, radio copy, and suggestions for theater owners who book the film.

Headliner's strategy for hyping the film seems to have been emphasizing the famous family name of its male lead. "Altho Harold Lloyd was a famous comedian to the theatergoers of a generation ago," it says, "his son, Harold Lloyd, Jr., chose a dramatic career in the acting profession." The pressbook declares that Married Too Young is Junior's "first starring role," which falsely implies that the young man is a newbie.

The "controversial" nature of the plot also merits a mention or two. According to the euphemistic and vague ad copy, our hero faces "the premarital problems leading to a hasty marriage with his high school sweetheart," while the film's plot concerns "young marrieds experiencing marital incompatibility because of uncontrolled biological urges of immature youth." That's an awful lot of words to say that two dumb high schoolers got hitched because they were horny. The film's exploitable auto racing angle, curiously, is ignored. Anyway, enjoy! (Click on the individual pictures to see them full size.)







The Donna Reed Show's cast.
The viewing experience: Like crossing the length of a football field through hip-deep mud. Married Too Young is a lugubrious, sluggish film that feels longer than its modest 76-minute running time. It's important to remember that "the Sixties" as we know them hadn't really gotten underway by 1962. The sexual promiscuity, creative experimentation, and hedonistic indulgence we now associate with the decade were still on the horizon, along with zeitgeist-shifting events as the JFK assassination and the British Invasion. The rigid, stultifying morality of the Eisenhower-era 1950s was very much in effect back then. You can see that in every frame of Married Too Young, which plays like a particularly dour, laughless installment of a domestic TV sitcom.

In fact, that's why it's especially appropriate that the Video Beat chose to pair this flick with a vintage episode of The Donna Reed Show. Aesthetically, they're very much alike. Donna Reed ran from 1958 to 1966, and the episode in question ("By-Line--Jeff Stone") turned out to be the series finale, even though it isn't written as one. Everyone is so clean-cut and well-behaved that you'd never guess that the Velvet Underground, Timothy Leary, acid trips, love beads, and Sgt. Pepper were just around the corner. Donna and her kin had no idea what was in store for them.

To understand Married Too Young at all, you have to cast your mind back half a century to a time when two teenagers would actually go to the trouble of getting married before having sex. Obviously, they could just skip the marriage and go straight to the sex, but then they'd wind up like the doomed, weeping teenagers in Too Soon to Love (1960), whose trailer is included on the Married DVD. In that film, poor Cathy (Jennifer West) is "betrayed by [her] innocence" and winds up pregnant after her out-of-wedlock sexual rendezvous with boyfriend Jim (Richard Evans), who frets, "I'm 17 years old! I'm in high school!" The trailer shows Cathy and Jim visiting an unlicensed abortion clinic run by, of all people, Billie Bird, who is best known for playing sweet old ladies on TV shows like Dear John and Benson. As Cathy and Jim ascend the stairs to the clinic, they see another couple coming down. A young man props up his shell-shocked girlfriend, who looks like she's just been through the Night of the Living Dead. "Oh, God, Jim," sobs Cathy. "I can't!" One might point out that if the youngsters from Too Soon to Love and Married Too Young had access to birth control, they could avoid any inconvenient pregnancies and wouldn't have to get married to have sex either. But that's 2010s thinking, not early 1960s thinking.

Anthony Dexter makes time with Marianna Hill.
Tommy and Helen are squeaky clean, goody-two-shoes characters with very few distinguishing personality traits, so it's difficult to become terribly involved in their story. In his leading role, Harold Lloyd, Jr. is mostly a wholesome dullard, sort of reminiscent of Peyton Manning, but without the quarterback's self-aware humor. Jana Lund is scarcely more interesting, though she does flounce around in a frilly nightgown during a few scenes, a detail that helps build the case for this being an Ed Wood movie. (Eddie, in case you're just joining us, loved such garments and included them in many of his scripts.) And her character, Helen, does get a pretty snappy comeback in one scene. When her mother asks her, "Helen, are you still here?" Helen responds, "I'm not a mirage." Zing!

Overall, the parents are just clueless authority figures who have no idea how badly they've warped their own children. Helen's mother, in particular, is a snooty socialite whose life seems to revolve around the country club. The fact that she gives her daughter money with which to buy dinner is an early warning sign, especially for anyone who has seen either The Violent Years or Sam Newfield's I Accuse My Parents (1944). The oblivious, social-climbing mother seems to be a stock character in cautionary tales of this nature, as does the slick, overconfident gangster who is all too eager to lead naive young people into hellish Faustian bargains. Filling that role here is the unctuous Grimes (played by "guest star" Anthony Dexter), whose very name has a Dickensian aptitude to it, like Scrooge or Gradgrind or Havisham.

Tony Dexter struts through this film like he just won first prize in a bullshitting contest and couldn't be prouder of that fact. When he blatantly steals another guy's girlfriend away from him, he's more concerned that the cuckolded rival will rumple his expensive suit: "This custom-made fiddle set me back a hundred and fifty clams." As far as I could determine, Grimes remains unpunished by the end of the film. In the heavy-handed, moralistic world of Ed Wood, that's a rarity.

The girl at the heart of this little love triangle is Married Too Young's own personal jezebel, Marla (Marianna Hill), a flirtatious, vivacious vixen who gives the movie its only real eroticism. Marla is also given some of the film's most colorful, slangy dialogue. When the local malt shop owner objects to being called "daddy-o," for instance, Marla casually replies: "Be a rectangle then." Together, Marla and Grimes are yet another example of what I call the "scheming criminal couple," a staple in many of Eddie's films.

What else is there to distinguish this script as Ed Wood's handiwork? Eh, a little bit here and a little bit there. Nearly every reviewer has pointed out the tonal and structural similarities between this film and The Violent Years, both of which have sermons delivered by judges to neglectful parents. But as Rob Craig points out, such preaching is commonplace in youth-oriented exploitation films. Similar adult authority figures appear in other, non-Wood films, like the aforementioned I Accuse My Parents and even the cult classic Reefer Madness (1936), the ultimate cinematic example of innocent youth gone astray.

If anything, Married Too Young is more liberal and forgiving than most of Ed's other films. Note, for instance, how hard the hammer of justice comes down on the pretty little noggin of the heroine in The Violent Years. One especially Wood-ian trait I noticed in Married Too Young, however, is that the characters have a habit of making sweeping condemnations of the opposite sex. Wood's male heroes lamented the inscrutable ways of womankind in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959) and Bride of the Monster (1955), and it seems like every Stephen Apostolof film from the 1970s had a "men are bastards!" speech by one of the female characters. Here, both genders are taken to task:

  • Tommy: "Women! What's a guy get mixed up with them for?" (This line has special resonance, since the actor speaking it -- Harold Lloyd, Jr. -- was gay.)
  • Helen's mom: (angrily, to Helen's dad) "Oh, you men! How naive can you be?!"
  • Tommy: (to Helen) "What's with you dames? A fella just wants to dance, and immediately, out come all the cat claws!" 

And then, there is the matter of the brief dream sequence, which doesn't occur until the movie is about 80% completed. Surprisingly, since Ed's movies are often considered to be surrealist in nature, you'd think he'd have such scenes in a lot of his movies. But the truth is, he really doesn't go down that particular path very often in his scripts. The actual, day-to-day waking reality in films like Plan 9 and Bride of the Monster is already so skewed and bizarre that a dream sequence would merely be gratuitous. A pedant could argue that virtually the entirety of Orgy of the Dead (1965) is a dream or fantasy, but that quality makes Orgy an exception.

The one big dream sequence in the Wood canon, the one that makes further scenes of this nature unnecessary, occurs in Ed's debut feature, Glen or Glenda? (1953). It is a lengthy, imaginative, wildly free-associative passage that marks a major, jarring departure from the "reality" of the rest of the movie. By contrast, Helen's paranoid dream near the end of Married Too Young is tame and sensible. But it does bear a passing resemblance to the infamous Glenda dream. Both scenes rely on the layering of images, with one bit of film transparently superimposed over another to create a gauzy or ghostly effect. And both also employ the taunting repetition of certain words or phrases. Glenda fans will undoubtedly recall that poor Glen was vexed by the voice of what sounded like a snotty young girl, chanting fragments of the old nursery rhyme about what little boys and little girls are made of. ("Puppy dog tails" and "everything nice," respectively.)

In Married Too Young, there is a series of blurry images, most of which are projected over the sleeping form of Jana Lund. First we see a bridal magazine, then a marriage license, and then the wedding ceremony itself, with Tommy and Helen once again exchanging "I do"s in front of the Justice of the Peace. All the while, we hear a chorus of adult voices -- I'm guessing these are meant to represent Tommy and Helen's disapproving parents -- repeating a single sentence over and over. At first, the parents speak one at a time. Then they chant in unison. But the phrase doesn't change. There's a lot of echo on the soundtrack, as well as some eerie sci-fi-type music in the background (is that a theremin I hear?), so it's difficult to make out exactly what they're saying. It sounds like: "Now, you get married too young, too young!"* The particular cadence of the actors makes it sound a lot like the "lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" chant from The Wizard of Oz (1939) or even "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!" by Napoleon XIV.

After reading the description of the dream sequence in Rob Craig's book, I was a little disappointed when I saw the movie and learned that the scene only accounts for about a minute of screen time. Such are the hazards, I suppose, when one excavates the dusty, cobwebbed corners of Edward D. Wood Jr.'s filmography. As a souvenir of the morality of another era, Married Too Young is a somewhat valuable little trinket. Purely as entertainment, it's a real drag, daddy-o.

* It could also be "Now you can get married too young, too young!" or even "How'd you get married too young, too young!"

Here's my visual breakdown of the dream sequence in Married Too Young.

In two weeks: From here on out, Ed Wood Wednesdays is going to a biweekly schedule. Why? Well, friends, I won't mince words. The cupboard is not entirely bare, but it's sure getting there. I have already covered all the movies reviewed in Rob Craig's Ed Wood, Mad Genius, plus a few more. What's left? Well, if we're strictly talking about movies that involved Ed Wood and were made during his lifetime, then to my knowledge I've reviewed everything that's currently available to the public on DVD and/or VHS. If you know of something I've skipped, please tell me about it. After that, what remains are the posthumous tribute films and documentaries. Movies I could cover include: The Haunted World of Edward D. Wood, Jr. (1996), Ed Wood: Look Back in Angora (1994), Flying Saucers Over Hollywood: The Plan 9 Companion (1992), The Vampire's Tomb (2007), I Woke Up Early the Day I Died (1998), It Came from Hollywood (1980), and Ed Wood (1994). At this juncture, what I really need is some reader input. Do you have any interest in seeing this series continue? If so, what sorts of movies would you like to see included? Let me know in the comments section.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Mill Creek comedy classics #17: "Boys of the City" (1940)

The East Side Kids come to the aid of Inna Gest in Boys of the City. And it's Jordan, not "Jordon."

The flick: Boys of the City (Monogram Pictures, 1940) [buy the set]

Current IMDb rating: 6.2

Director: Joseph H. Lewis (Gun Crazy, The Big Combo)

Actors of note:
  • Bobby Jordan (Angels with Dirty Faces, Dead End)
  • Leo Gorcey (They Made Me a Criminal, Spooks Run Wild)
  • Hal E. Chester (School for Scoundrels, Curse of the Demon)
  • Frankie Burke (Shadow of the Thin Man, Nancy Drew... Reporter)
  • Dave O'Brien (Reefer Madness, 42nd Street)
  • Minerva Urecal (Harvey, Marty, Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt)
  • Inna Gest (Hangmen Also Die!, Babes in Arms)
  • Forrest Taylor (Reefer Madness, Winchester '73)

The gist of it: In order to avoid jail after playfully assaulting a street vendor, the East Side Kids -- a gang of New York street toughs led by Danny (Jordan) and Muggs (Gorcey) -- are sent to a farm upstate for the summer, under the supervision of Danny's older brother, exonerated murder suspect Knuckles Dolan (O'Brien). Along the way, though, they have some car trouble and end up staying at a spooky, secret-passageway-riddled estate with mean, crooked Judge Parker (Taylor) and a bunch of other fast talking guys in suits who, for reasons I couldn't quite suss out, are all trying to kill each other. Oh, and there's an innocent dame, Louise (Gest), and a creepy maid, Agnes (Urecal), who figure into the plot as well somehow. Eventually, all the right people are murdered, and the Kids can eat their cake and go home to commit more mayhem.

Alex and his droogs: Latter-day East Side Kids?
My take: It would take a genealogist to sort out the evolution of the East Side Kids, a.k.a. The Bowery Boys, a.k.a. The Dead End Kids. They started out as supporting players in gritty dramas like Dead End (1937) and Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) but then got their own series of low-budget comedies that grew sillier and less realistic over time. The Kids (or Boys) bounced around from studio to studio, generally moving down the food chain in terms of budget and production value and occasionally changing names for copyright reasons.

The lineup changed over the years, but Leo Gorcey (whose character, Muggs McGinnis, was rechristened Slip Mahoney when the team became known as the Bowery Boys) stayed with the series until 1956, when he was pushing 40. The series went on two more years without him.

Frankly, I'm baffled as to why America kept these guys on the payroll for 20 years. Watching Boys of the City (which takes place almost entirely in the country), I got sick of them after 20 seconds. They all have nasal, heavily-accented Bugs Bunny voices, wear those stupid newsboy caps everywhere, and speak almost entirely in obscure slang expressions. Since they converse in a very eccentric sort of lingo and gleefully gang up on an older man at the beginning of the movie, the East Side Kids reminded me a bit of Alex and his droogs from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange (1972), only here they're supposed to be the good guys.

In retrospect, the Kids were among the first rebellious teens ever seen in the movies, certainly the first to be the heroes of a whole series. In a way, that does make them ancestors of the droogs and may also explain why the Beatles were so fond of them. In 1967, the Fab Four wanted Leo Gorcey to be among the spectators on the cover of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, but he wanted $400 for the use of his image. The Beatles balked and used his Bowery cohort, Huntz Hall (who wasn't in Boys of the City), instead. Gorcey died two years later of liver failure at the age of 51. He was on his fifth marriage at the time.

Menacing Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca.
Is it funny: Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I found the Kids, especially Gorcey, to be extremely irritating and not funny in the least in this film. Their constant complaining about everything gave me a headache.

Much more troubling to modern audiences, however, is Scruno (Ernest Morrison, dubiously billed as "Sunshine Sammy"), the one African-American in the group. First seen obediently fanning Muggs, who calls him "boy," Scruno embodies every possible negative black stereotype. His fear of "g-g-g-ghosts" is a relentless running gag throughout the film, and he is given to pronouncements like "I sure loves catfish!" and "I sure do miss that old plantation!" Most humiliating of all is a dinner scene in which Agnes, having served what seems to be soup to the other Kids, places a huge slice of watermelon in front of Scruno, who proceeds to bury his head in it like an animal eating out of a trough. Ugh.

Agnes, however, is mostly an asset to the film. Minerva Urecal gives a totally unhinged performance, very similar to Cloris Leachman's Frau Blucher in Young Frankenstein (1974). A scene in which she menaces young Louise has very strong lesbian undertones, echoing Hitchcock's Rebecca (1940) and the corresponding character of Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson). I'm guessing that Agnes' obsession with her late mistress, Judge Parker's deceased wife, was imported directly from Rebecca, which had been a successful novel two years earlier.

Honestly, I was grateful for the mystery and suspense elements in this film because they offered some respite from the awful "comedy" of Gorcey and company. To be fair, there is one joke in this film that did make me laugh. One of the Kids, Skinny (Burke), compares Agnes to the Witch from Snow White and advises Danny, "If she gives ya an apple, don't eat it." And even though he gives a lousy performance, I did smile broadly when I recognized Dave O'Brien, the psychotic dope smoker Ralph from Reefer Madness (1936).

My grade: D

P.S. - This film is by far the worst example of racist stereotyping I've seen in the set so far. Scruno is so embarrassing that he makes Mantan Moreland look like Martin Luther King, Jr. in comparison.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Mill Creek comedy classics #65: "Broadway Limited" (1941)

Broadway Limited is not about Broadway. It's about a train, a baby, and some other people.

The flick: Broadway Limited (United Artists release of a Hal Roach Studios film, 1941) [buy the set]

Current IMDb rating: 5.3

Director: Gordon Douglas (Niagara Falls)

Actors of note
  • Victor McLaglen (frequently cast by John Ford in such films as She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, Fort Apache, and Rio Grande; Oscar-nominated for his role in Ford's The Quiet Man; Oscar winner for Ford's The Informer)
  • Dennis O'Keefe (The Marx Brothers' Duck Soup, Scarface [1932 version], Top Hat, much more)
  • Patsy Kelly (comedienne whose openness about being a lesbian brought her career to a standstill in the 1940s; she came back as a TV actress in the '50s and '60s and went on to do Rosemary's Baby, Freaky Friday [1976 version], etc.)
  • Leonid Kinskey (by far, best known for Casablanca; also appeared in Duck Soup, The Man with the Golden Arm, Trouble in Paradise, and much more)
  • George E. Stone (Guys and Dolls, Some Like It Hot, Ocean's Eleven [1960 version])
  • George Lloyd (ubiquitous character actor with hundreds of TV and film appearances from the 1930s to the 1950s; played Al "Happy Chef" Frazier in the MST3K favorite I Accuse My Parents)

George E. Stone
The gist of it: High-strung movie director Ivan (Kinskey) thinks his leading lady April (Woodworth) should be photographed with an "adopted" baby when she makes her train trip aboard the Broadway Limited from Chicago to New York. Ivan's faithful assistant Patsy (Kelly) enlists her boyfriend, befuddled railroad engineer Mike (McLaglen), to procure an infant that April can borrow temporarily for her journey. Mike offers an oddly-eager stranger named Lefty (Stone) $500 for the temporary use of a kid and then boards the Broadway Limited himself -- as a passenger rather than an employee of the railroad (though he's pressed into service at one point). Ivan and Patsy accompany April, as does Myra (Pitts), a ditsy and bothersome representative from the Chicago chapter of April's fan club.

By pure chance, while walking around the train, April happens to run into her old boyfriend, struggling young physician Dr. Harvey North (O'Keefe), who still loves April and wants to marry her but is certain that the baby she's lugging around is her biological child. Harvey is also convinced Ivan is the father, which leads to a rivalry between the two men. Meanwhile, Mike begins to suspect that the baby he "rented" is the same kidnapped child whose picture is in every newspaper in the country. One by one, all the other characters -- April, Ivan, Patsy, Harvey, and Myra -- come to believe that the baby is "stolen" and being actively sought by the police. So the little bundle of joy becomes a hot potato that everyone is desperate to get rid of. But every time they think they've ditched him, the little stinker keeps coming back to them like a boomerang! And now there are cops searching the whole train! What to do? What do do?

The Great Hall in Chicago's Union Station
My take: Trains are a surprisingly important part of my life. Every weekday morning, I take a Metra commuter train into Chicago to go to work. And every weekday afternoon, I take another one back home to get away from work. 

On holidays, I take an Eastbound passenger train, Amtrak's Capitol Limited, to visit relatives in another state. The Amtrak train departs from Chicago's historic Union Station, where one pivotal scene from this movie takes place. I'm pretty sure that this production just used some stock footage of Union Station and intercut that with footage of the actors saying their lines on a Hollywood soundstage, but it was still kind of neat to see a locale from my daily life depicted in a movie. The place is pretty neat in real life, too, so stop by the next time you're in the Windy City, even if you're not taking the train.

This is also another Hal Roach production, which generally has been a good sign in this project. After all, Niagara Falls was one of my highest-rated films in this Mill Creek set, and Broadway Limited has the same director and two of the same actresses as that one. (One character even mentions going to Niagara Falls for a honeymoon.) In terms of tone and structure, Niagara Falls and Broadway Limited are very much alike. At heart, they're both bedroom farces with plenty of misunderstandings, carefully-timed exits and entrances, and a lot of frantic running around by all concerned parties. And both take place in one confined location (in the former, a hotel; in the latter, a train), mostly over the course of one long, hectic evening.

Unfortunately, Broadway Limited is no Niagara Falls. There's nothing obviously "wrong" with it, per se -- other than the fact that it gets off to rather a slow start, belabors certain points at the expense of forward momentum, and presents a disagreeable, paranoid, chauvinist jerk (O'Keefe's handsome doctor character) as the romantic hero we're all supposed to be rooting for. Then there's the slight issue of a comedy being built around the kidnapping of an infant -- a child whose parents, we are told, are hysterical with grief. If Broadway Limited were a cynical, dark comedy, this might almost work. But instead, it's a bubbly, lighthearted, "feel-good" flick which repeatedly and shamelessly plays up the cuteness of the kid with its many, many cutaways to the young child actor gurgling delightedly at the bumbling antics of the grown-up characters.

While a good number of the film's jokes do work, especially as the story gets fully underway, I cannot help but feel that the chemistry is just a little "off" here. Instead of being a tasty cinematic dessert, it's more like a souffle which falls flat. As such, it rates only a tentative and conditional recommendation.

Renfrew: Zasu Pitt's ideal.
Is it funny: At first, not really. Eventually, though, some of the humorous elements of the film begin to percolate a bit. I liked, for instance, a running gag about a creepy, Eddie Munster-ish kid who repeatedly walks up to the beleaguered and overburdened Mike and just stares silently at him. Eventually the kid asks the poor guy a question: "Is that really your face?" Kinskey, McLaglen, and Kelly all play their roles to the hilt, which would be great if the script were a little funnier. As it is, their collective energy is kind of oppressive. I found myself wishing that they'd all stop shouting medium-funny jokes at me. When the bits are well-conceived, however, their performances are enjoyable. I laughed audibly when Kelly calms McLaglen down by saying she has a idea how to solve their problems, then reveals that her plan is to hand him the baby and then lock herself in her room until the trouble goes away.

Cheerful, oblivious Zasu Pitts is at the opposite end of the spectrum, as usual, and exists in her own little universe. She's always underfoot and in the way, getting on the nerves of the other characters without realizing it. In one scene, she blocks a narrow hallway so that other characters practically have to do gymnastics to get around her. In another, she shares a bed with Kelly and the baby, and Zasu's leaky hot water bottle causes Kelly to think that the infant has... well, you can guess.

The movie's best subplot, though, revolves around Zasu Pitts' undying devotion to a terrible-sounding radio show called Renfrew of the Mounted. My favorite scene in this film is the one in which Zasu's character, Myra, listens to Renfrew at full blast in a crowded club car and is clearly the only one enjoying the program. And when Myra isn't listening to Renfrew or dreaming about Renfrew, she's talking about Renfrew... even though no one else in the film gives a damn. The show obviously provides the kind of romantic escapism that many women now get from Twilight or 50 Shades. Myra's chief concern in life, in fact, seems to be whether or not Renfrew will "kiss her." We never find out who "her" is, but I assume it's the show's leading lady or love interest, i.e. the Bella Swan of her day.

Wonder if old Renfrew ever got around to it?

My grade: (barely) B-

P.S. - While it's not really a racist movie, Broadway Limited does (unwittingly) capture the racial dynamic of its era. The only black characters in the film are subservient porters and bartenders whose dialogue mainly consists of "yes, sir" and "yes, ma'am." Like everyone else in this movie, these men are required to react with astonishment at the goings on, but there are no bug-eyed Mantan Moreland shenanigans here.