A Monster-Filled Christmas; Out-Stunting Stagecoach; The Enduring Lugosi; Corned Beef and Cabbage I Love You

Sometimes there are a few ideas ruminating around in the ol’ noggin that don’t require a full blog. So with no further ado…

Monsters for the Holidays

Surely I’m not the only one who looks back on their youth and associates monster movies with the holidays? If you are of a certain age (50+), you probably do. With mom and dad scrambling buying presents and planning menus for parties, us kids needed to stay out of the way. Back in the pre-cable days, when there were only five or six channels on the air, programmers knew they had a captive audience of kiddies home from school for the last two weeks of the year. So they would program movies that would appeal to the homebound urchins.

In the Chicago area, I remember seeing “King Kong” (1933) on the 3:30 Movie on Christmas Eve.  I also remember seeing a couple of Hammer movies, “Sword of Sherwood Forest” (1961) and “The Evil of Frankenstein” on 12/24 in the same time slot.

Every Christmas Eve we would have a big family Christmas Eve party and I remember one year being in absolute agony because the local UHF channel was running “Tower of London” (1939) on the 10:30 movie. On Christmas Eve!

 

I knew it wasn’t a horror movie, but it did have Boris Karloff and Basil Rathbone in it, and it was from Universal Studios and boy, did I really want to see it. Still, I didn’t dream of asking to have the TV during the party. Today, most everything on the tube seems to be holiday-related this time of year, but there was a time when monsters ruled the television movie universe around the holidays. Not only were we off school for two weeks (and no homework), and looking forward to parties, gift-giving and family get-togethers, but there was a cartload of monster movies to look forward to. The other day, I was hanging ornaments, and “Tarantula” (1955) was on in the background, and for me it was the most natural thing in the world.

Out-Stunting Stagecoach

John Ford’s “Stagecoach” (1939) contains one of the most famous stunts in film history, and it takes place during the scene where the stagecoach is being chased by Indians across salt flats. The famous stuntman Yakima Canutt plays one of the attacking Indians who jumps from his horse onto the stage’s charging horses. The Ringo Kid (John Wayne) sees this and shoots him. Canutt falls between the horses and grabs the undercarriage of the stagecoach as it goes past him. He hangs on for a bit and then lets go, leaving him behind as the stagecoach continues on at a furious pace. It’s considered one of the great stunts of all time. And it is.

 

Imagine my surprise when I recently watched a film made three years earlier from scrappy little Republic Studios, which outdoes the Canutt stunt in every way possible. “The Big Show” (1936) is an above-average Gene Autry film concerning the making of a B western. In an early scene, the crew is shooting a chase scene where a covered wagon, driven by an old man and (presumably) his daughter, is being pursued by Indians. The old timer is shot and a thrown tomahawk knocks out the daughter, causing her to fall backward into the covered wagon. The Autry character is on horseback, riding furiously alongside the wagon shooting at the attacking Indians, Seeing the unmanned wagon is a runaway, he leaps onto the team of horses to stop it. An Indian jumps onto the same team and the two struggle with each other atop the racing horses. The Indian gets knocked out and falls between the running horses, taking Autry with him. The two continue to fight under the wagon until the Indian is kicked away, leaving him in the dust.

Using the wagon’s undercarriage, Autry pulls himself forward, climbs back onto the charging horses, and reins them to safety.

There are some cutaways to the camera crew filming the sequence, but it doesn’t take away that we’re seeing two guys falling between hooves and fighting under a runaway wagon. I watched the sequence in a state bordering on awe.

Not to take anything away from “Stagecoach” but that sequence is really something to see. Republic was known for having some of the best stuntmen in the industry, as well as a special effects and miniatures department that was the envy of many a major studio. If that stunt was used in an “A” movie from a major studio, it would be considered one of the great stunts of all time.

The Lugosi Legacy

I recently went to see “Hotel Transylvania” and I didn’t think much of it. I liked the other horror-related animated features that came out this year, “Paranorman” and “Frankenweeine”, much better. Still, I was amused to see Adam Sandler, voicing Count Dracula, doing a faux Bela Lugosi impression. Here it is, 2012 and a kid’s movie is referencing an 80-year-old movie for its running length. Is there any other Golden Age performance you can say that about today? I’m sure the great majority of kids couldn’t tell you who Bela Lugosi was, but do a Lugosi accent and the vast majority would know you were doing Dracula. I’ve long thought that Lugosi’s Dracula performance was one of the major cultural milestones of the 20^th century, and while it pains me to have to turn to Adam Sandler, of all people, for confirmation, I’m very glad he did it.

Kiss and Make Up

An unsung gem in a Cary Grant DVD collection that Universal put out a few years ago is Paramount’s “Kiss and Make Up” (1934) a really delightful pre-code musical comedy. Those who thought Cary Grant only sang in “Suzy” (1936) will be pleased to hear him warble a love song here.

In “Kiss and Make Up” he plays a world-famous cosmetic surgeon who is the darling of the society set. He falls in love with one of his patients (Genevieve Tobin), who is married to Edward Everett Horton. She leaves Horton and Grant and Tovin cavort in Paris (Paramount-style) and the Riveria. On a honeymoon in Paris, he discovers he’s not who he thinks she is. Let’s just say beauty is only skin deep.

It’s one of those very silly “throw everything but the kitchen sink and see what happens” movies that Paramount, in the 1930s, seemed to do better than anyone else.

It would make a fine double feature with RKOs’ “Hips Hips Hooray” (1934) a satire on beauty treatments from Wheeler and Woolsey. What was in the air in 1934 that two musicals – satires really - were made centered on the beauty and cosmetics industries?

For fans of Edward Everett Horton’s bathing suit appearance in “The Gay Divorcee” (1934) –and surely there are people who fit this bill - he dons a similar suit here. Instead of a very young Betty Grable in that film, here he cavorts with Helen Mack. I’ve always had a thing for Helen Mack, so I enjoyed this film tremendously.

The two sing a riot of a song, “Corned Beef and Cabbage, I Love You” which I must remember every March 17. I love some of these gloriously nonsensical ditties that 1930’s musicals gave us. It’s right up with the afore-referenced “Let’s Knock Knees” and the unforgettable “Love Me Love My Pekinese” from “Born to Dance” (1936). They don’t write songs like that any more, more’s the pity.

Guilty Pleasures Movie Blogathton: The Devil Bat

Would you use a bottle of shaving lotion given to you by Bela Lugosi, especially after he recommends you “rub it on the tender part of your neck?”

Of course you wouldn’t, but there are quite a few characters in “The Devil Bat” (1940) who do accept the lotion, the scent of which attracts the title creature, created in a lab by the “kindly” Dr. Carruthers (Lugosi), and wind up dead with their throats torn out.

“The Devil Bat” (1940) is Bela Lugosi’s finest hour on Poverty Row (OK, make that 69 minutes). In his only film for PRC Studios, Lugosi delivers one of his most enthusiastic portrayals as he uses his giant bat to gleefully kill off members of two families he feels have cheated him out of profits for a successful cold cream formula.

No, I’m not making this up.

“The Devil Bat” is set in fictional Heathville, IL. However, one of the characters does mention going to a house on Cottage Grove Avenue, which does exist and is a main thoroughfare through the South Side and south suburbs of Chicago. This is my old stomping grounds, so I like to think I used to live in an area where a giant devil bat flew overhead in search of victims.

Dr. Carruthers feels he was cheated out of profits from his cold cream formula made rich by businessmen Henry Morton (Guy Usher) and Martin Heath (Edward Mortimer).

Never mind that Dr. Carruthers did agree to a cash payment up front and meager royalty payments, instead of waiting for the product to become successful. No, Carruthers feels he’s been cheated out of millions of dollars in profits and is ready to exact his vengeance.

The sons of the Heath and Morton families are found dead with their throats torn out, but no one knows by who or why. Chicago Daily Register Editor Joe McGinty assigns reporter Johnny Layton (Dave O’Brien) and photographer “One Shot” McGuire (Donald Kerr) to the story.

McGinty is played by Arthur Q. Bryan, the voice of Elmer Fudd. Can this film get any better?

I’m jumping ahead with the story a bit, because the film actually opens with Lugosi in his lab, wearing goggles, watching through a window as electricity surges through the upside-down-hanging giant bat. These are intercut with stock footage close-up scenes of a real bat head. Ick!.

Director Jean Yarbrough toiled in the “B” movie arena most of his career to intermittent effect. He did direct one of Monogram’s most enjoyable horror films “King of the Zombies” (1941), but that’s due more to Mantan Moreland’s comedy than any chills generated.

He can also lay claim to directing one of the best Bowery Boys outings, “Master Minds” (1949) co-starring Glenn Strange and Alan Napier.

Unfortunately Yarbrough’s name graces Universal’s dullest horror film, “She-Wolf of London” (1946), though even James Whale couldn’t have saved that turkey.

But he does an OK job with “The Devil Bat.” The scenes of the bat attacking its victims are actually pretty well staged, especially since the bat is accompanied by a high-pitched scream. However, Yarbrough should have left an attack or two for the end and instead teased us with the earlier attacks.

After all, there’s only so much variety to be had in an attacking giant bat, especially on a Poverty Row budget. You’ve seen one devil bat attack you’ve seen them all, no matter how well they’re staged.

But this was PRC and in his book, “Poverty Row Horrors!” (McFarland & Company, 1992), Tom Weaver brings up a great point about the appeal of Poverty Row horror movies, and PRC in particular:

Like most of PRC’s horrors, The Devil Bat plunges headlong into the plot. The film opens as Lugosi enlarges one of his bats, then (to let us know what’s going on) floridly describes his evil plans to the bat (!). PRC’s films often began at the point of creation of the monster (The Devil Bat, The Mad Monster), or with the monster already in existence (Dead Men Walk, Strangler of the Swamp, The Flying Serpent). Most would probably find this a lazy or juvenile device, but there’s something to be said for movies that know just what their audiences want, that skip all the worn-out yap and jump right into the meat of their stories. By its halfway point, the werewolf in The Mad Monster is already hip-deep in murder and mayhem; at the halfway point of Universal’s The Wolf Man, Lon Chaney has yet to show even a trace of five o’clock shadow. This is not to say that The Mad Monster is a better movie than The Wolf Man, but just that some studios made horror films that had a lot of build up while the folks at PRC, who liked zip in their pictures, relied more on action.

Bela Lugosi was one of the most magnetic performers of Hollywood’s Golden Age, and as Dracula, added millions of Depression-era dollars into Universal’s coffers.

But he was a lousy businessman and had even worst representation, and in the late 1930s and 1940s found himself on Poverty Row. While Universal wasted Lugosi in butler or manservant roles, Poverty Row at least gave Lugosi the lead role in their horror movies. It may be Poverty Row, but at Monogram or PRC, Lugosi was king.

Poverty Row was a term given to studios that specialized in “B” product and if you weren’t a major studio you were on Poverty Row.

Republic Pictures may have been considered a Poverty Row studio, but they were the M-G-M of Poverty Row, as their films had good production values and often attracted name stars from other studios. Certainly the stunt work and miniatures at Republic for their serials and westerns were every bit as good, if not better, than similar work at the major studios.

Below Republic was Monogram Studios and below Monogram was PRC. PRC stood for Producers Releasing Corporation (not Pretty Rotten Crap, as some wags would suggest). Making a movie at Monogram or PRC meant you were either on your way up or on your way down.

“The Devil Bat” was Lugosi’s one and only outing at PRC, and it’s probably the best horror film he made for a Poverty Row studio. What it lacks in logic it makes up for in enthusiasm.

Audiences who went to see a movie called “The Devil Bat” got their money’s worth as there are about half a dozen bat attacks. No gore, of course, but the devil bat is one of the more unusual monsters of 1940s horror filmdom.

An acting job at PRC meant no time for wardrobe changes. O’Brien wears the same suit throughout most of the movie. I noticed this because he wears the same tie, which features a large question mark in the middle, like something Frank Gorshin’s Riddler character would wear. I was greatly relieved when O’Brien wore a new suit coat and tie in the film’s final scenes.

“The Devil Bat” made gobs of money for PRC, and the studio was not going to let a quality prop like that go to waste. In 1944, The Devil Bat chased Buster Crabbe through a cave in one of his Billy Carson westerns, “Wild Horse Phantom” (1944).

PRC re-made (kind of) “The Devil Bat” as “The Flying Serpent” in 1945. In that one, George Zucco uses the flying serpent, found in an Aztec monument, to kill off victims of an archaeological expedition he feels cheated him out of recognition of his findings.

“The Devil Bat” even earned a sequel, a rarity on Poverty Row, with one of the most awkwardly titled movies of all time, “Devil Bat’s Daughter” (1946).

It’s one of the dullest flicks ever made, as we follow Dr. Carruthers’ daughter (Rosemary LaPlanche) who thinks she’s a vampire. By the end of the movie, the daughter has also cleared her father of the bat attacks from the first film!

As Tom Weaver says, “One hopes that no theater ever double-billed the two films.”

(My favorite example of Poverty Row illogic comes courtesy of Monogram Pictures. In 1943, Bela Lugosi starred in “The Ape Man.” A year later, he starred in “Return of the Ape Man.” Story-wise, the two films have absolutely nothing in common. Such is the happy land of Monogram.)

Leading lady Suzanne Kaaren had an interesting career, and was arguably Donald Trump’s least favorite actress.

Three Stooges fans know Suzanne Kaaren as Gail Tempest, the dancer who strips to her dancing clothes in a courtroom and performs a routine in one of their best shorts “Disorder in the Court” (1936). She toiled in “B” movies and in 1943 married Sidney Blackmer, a well-regarded actor best known for playing the warlock Roman Castevet in “Rosemary’s Baby” (1968). They stayed married until his death in 1973. They had two sons, Jonathan and Brewster. Gee, I wonder what their favorite play was?

In the 1980s Donald Trump wanted to purchase the New York apartment building she was living in and convert it into condos. She refused to leave and he threatened to evict her. They went to court and after a vicious legal battle, the court ruled in her favor. In 1998, however, the decision was overturned and The Donald was finally able to turn the building into condos. Kaaren, however, did receive $750,000 in compensation. She died in 2004.

“The Devil Bat” is a great favorite of horror fans and is one of the easiest Lugosi films to see. Since it slipped into public domain status, it has been released on VHS and DVD countless times, often in less than desirable prints. Regardless of print quality, it remains a very entertaining 69 minutes and gives Bela Lugosi one of his most gloriously sinister roles, alongside one of 1940s horrordom’s most unusual monsters. What’s not to like?

Twilight

Middle-aged men like me are not the audience for “Twilight”, so why did I go see it? Well, some friends saw it and their middle school daughter loved it and wanted to know if I saw it. So friendship overcame “Twilight” wariness and I went to the second-run theater in Naperville last night to finally check out “Twilight”..

I told myself to give it an honest chance. After all, I condescended to “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” the first couple of seasons it was on without seeing it, and it’s now probably my all-time favorite television show. Maybe teenagers and vampires are a good mix, I thought, settling down to “Twilight.”

Wrong again. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, but it sure wasn’t very good.

I can see why females, especially young girls, would take to it. There’s romance, but no sex. The ultimate bad boy is actually a pretty good guy. He has super powers, and is immortal (though being perpetually 17 years old strikes me as damnation of the worst kind). Plus, he glistens with a diamond-like dust when exposed to extreme sunlight. The clothes are to die for and they listen to cool music. (The alternative rock songs on the soundtrack, however, will badly date the film).

But boy, does it take a long time to get going. There’s lots of mournful, soulful staring in this; I think the stares take up the entire first half of the movie.

I won’t go into too many of plot specifics. Suffice to say, “Twilight” details what happens when new girl Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) arrives from Arizona to live with her divorced dad in the town of Forks in the Pacific Northwest. She’s intrigued by the Cullens, a clan of brooding youngsters with perpetually pasty skin who don’t mingle with the other students. Bella and Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson, whose hair gives the best performance in the movie), make goo goo eyes and find destiny with each other.

Bella and Edward stare mournfully each other. A lot. Not just a little but a lot.

Eventually she figures out that he’s a vampire. In fact, all the Cullens are vampires, but good vampires. They only hunt and kill animals, and must live apart from humans as much as possible so as not to succumb to their primal urges and attack them. But not all vampires are this generous. There’s a band of hungry, nomadic vampires in the area who are snacking on the human populace. This puts the Cullens on edge. Will the Cullens have to pack up and move on, or do they take care of the bad vampires? Will Edward have to leave Bella behind?

One of Bella’s first contacts in town is an Indian boy named Jacob, and there are hints that his people are a tribe of wolf-men who enjoy an uneasy alliance with the vampires.

For a two hour movie, not a lot occurs and the pacing could have been faster. Plus, I wish director Catherine Hardwicke had given voice lessons to the cast. Her young actors talk in that odd kind of hushed whisper, which is supposed to evoke great importance and seriousness. Actors should learn they can be serious and interesting and still talk above a whisper.

A little humor would have helped too. There’s a good line about eternal matriculating in high school, but the movie’s tone is awfully moribund.

I did enjoy the photography, which showcases the beauty of the Pacific Northwest in all its forested glory. Carter Burwell’s score is pretty weak, but there’s a nicely scored sequence where Edward flies Bella to the tree tops and they survey the surrounding area. But how I wish someone like John Barry had scored this. The movie needed a rich musical score to augment the romantic nature of the story. Could you imagine the themes from something like “Somewhere in Time” (1980) or “Out of Africa” (1985) playing as Edward and Bella soar through the trees? Heck, I’d even be swooning.

I wish author Stephanie Meyer had given her character a different name than Bella. Each time her name was mentioned I flashbacked to the greatest vampire of all, Bela Lugosi, and his hypnotic performance in “Dracula” (1930), one of the greatest cultural milestones of the 20th century. Sixty and 70 years later when your vampire impersonators speak with thick Hungarian accents, or your Count Chocula breakfast cereal spokesman speaks, they’re not imitating Dracula, they’re invoking Lugosi. See that picture? Now that’s a vampire, a true lord of the undead.

The sequel, “New Moon” is ready to go into production soon for release in late 2010. I was very excited when I saw the headlines about “New Moon” as I thought some smart studio was dusting off the venerable Sigmund Romberg/Oscar Hammerstein II operetta for another go around. M-G-M did it twice, once in 1930 with Grace Moore and Lawrence Tibbett and again in 1940 with Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. Everything else is being re-made these days, why not “New Moon”?

But alas, this “New Moon” is the next entry in the “Twilight” saga. I’m assuming that with a title like that, the Indian tribe of werewolves will become major players. The movie makers, however, would be smart to incorporate songs from the operetta into the film and make it a musical. Bella and Edward can serenade “Lover Come Back to Me” to each other in the tree tops and Edward could lead the Cullen clan in a rousing rendition of “Stout Hearted Men.” That sounds good enough to check out opening night.

Rating for “Twilight”: Two stars.

Chandu the Magician

Watching “Chandu the Magician” (1932) is like watching a 1930s pulp story come to life.

Almost every scene boasts an outstanding piece of production design or a visually arresting directorial choice. Fast paced and filled with exotic locales and serial-like thrills, this is a prime addition to 1930s fantastic cinema. Mega kudos to Fox Home Video for beautifully restoring this rare title. This one is going to enjoy lots of repeat viewings.

OK, technically Chandu was not born of the pulps but from the radio. “Chandu the Magician” was a very popular children’s radio show that answered the Fox Film Studio’s need to enter the burgeoning fantasy film sweepstakes. Universal had struck box office gold with “Dracula” (1930) and “Frankenstein” (1931), and Paramount had “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (1931) and Fredric March’s Oscar-winning portrayal.

What could Fox do? They weren’t comfortable with out and out supernatural horror, but a fantastic adventure with a hint of the supernatural would fit the bill just fine.

Add Bela Lugosi, one of the horror genre’s leading lights to the mix, and you have a film that should have been a box office bonanza. It wasn’t, which is too bad. I always felt that 1930s audiences were pretty savvy about what worked and what didn’t. I’m not sure if any decade had a more receptive audience than 1930s moviegoers, and what was popular then remains highly watchable today. But there are exceptions, and I think 1932 audiences missed the boat with Chandu.

Chandu (Edmund Lowe) is a master yogi and hypnotist who, thanks to his powers of suggestion, can make people see things that aren’t there, or make then do things they normally wouldn’t do.

There’s a death ray machine capable of destroying vast cities around the world. Who wants control of said machine? Roxor, played by Bela Lugosi at his most gloriously unhinged (pictured). The death ray is found in a mountain headquarters carved out of an ancient Egyptian tomb. We get an awesome tracking shot of the camera jutting in and out of the tomb’s various byways. It looks like it was done in miniatures, but it’s enormously effective.

“Chandu the Magician” was co-directed by Marcel Varnel and William Cameron Menzies, but all the fantastic imagery in the film is likely the work of Menzies.

Menzies is probably best known as arguably the most influential production designer in Hollywood, giving films such as “Gone with the Wind” (1939) and “King’s Row” (1941) their distinctive look. If you want the look of a town, or a house, to become a character in the film, you hire Menzies. But he also directed some very interesting films that look like no others, such as “Things to Come” (1936) and “Invaders from Mars” (1953).

The year before “Chandu”, Menzies directed for Fox a very interesting thriller called “The Spider” about a magician (Lowe again) who uses his powers of magic to solve a murder. It’s likely Fox noted the similarities between the two films and cast Lowe as Chandu based on his role in “The Spider.” As others have pointed out, he’s not the best choice for the role, but he doesn’t bring the film down. When a film has this much to offer visually, Fox could have cast Billy Barty as Chandu and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Chandu’s brother-in-law Robert (Henry B.Walthall) is the inventor of said death ray machine, and Roxor kidnaps him and his family in an attempt to show Roxor how to operate the machine. We get a great scene of Roxor imaging the death ray destroying London and Paris and Roxor cackling gleefully about the thousands of deaths he will cause and how all of mankind will grovel before him. It’s nothing less than pure bliss.

Chandu uses his powers of hypnotism to cause all kinds of fantastic illusions to save his family and stop Roxor from using the death ray.

The family members are a pretty dull bunch, save for his niece Betty Lou, played by June Vlasek (later June Lang, from “Bonnie Scotland” (1935) and Howard Hawks’ “The Road to Glory” (1936). She’s a real honey, as her picture shows, and there’s a good scene where Chandu uses his powers of hypnotism to save her from being sold into white slavery. I get a kick out of her character’s name, Betty Lou, which is far too wholesome a name for such an exotic adventure. Betty Lou doesn’t fit into a film filled with a Chandu and a Roxor.

Ah, but we do get Chandu’s love interest, the Princess Nadja (Irene Ware), who helps Chandu track down Roxor. Ware also starred in “The Raven” (1935), which features the other great unhinged Lugosi performance.

While Chandu’s tricks are shown to be pure hypnotism, there are some incidents in the movie that smack of the supernatural. Roxor’s tomb headquarters are guarded by statutes which seem to come to life. At one point Chandu is captured, thrown into a coffin wrapped in chains, and deposited at the bottom of a lake. Chandu escapes with little difficulty, leaving me to suspect Chandu’s powers are more than simple hypnotism.

Unless I missed something. Oh well, I may have to watch it again, an idea that fills me with great pleasure and anticipation.

Rating for “Chandu the Magician”: Three stars.

The Black Cat (1941)

Many horror film fans are dismissive of “The Black Cat” (1941) and it’s easy to see why. It’s not a horror film, but more of a mystery/comedy thriller with an emphasis on comedy. The fact that the comedy is provided by Hugh Herbert grates on a lot of people. Bela Lugosi is wasted in a red herring role as a gardener, and star Basil Rathbone isn’t given much to do. Plus it shares the same title with a 1934 horror epic starring Lugosi and Boris Karloff, which is one of the highest regarded and best loved films in the Universal horror canon.

But I enjoyed “The Black Cat” for several reasons. For one, I’m a sucker for old dark house mysteries where a group of characters gathers at a mansion for a reading of the will. So the fact that it’s a mystery movie rather than a horror film doesn’t bother me. There’s still enough rainstorms, secret passages to explore (by candlelight, naturally) and corpses falling out of closet doors to keep one entertained.

What I liked most about the film is the cinematography. Man, this is one beautiful looking film, and no wonder. The film was photographed by Stanley Cortez, who also shot “The Magnificent Ambersons” (1942) and “The Night of the Hunter” (1955), which boasts some of the most beautifully atmospheric black and white photography of all time.

“The Black Cat” may be a “B” mystery drama, but it’s a beautiful film to look at. A scene where a character catches fire and runs screaming through the corridors makes a fine impression, as do scenes of the murderer toting a body through the shadow-drenched hallways.

I like a lot of the cast members. True, Rathbone seems unengaged throughout and Lugosi is wasted, but there are other compensations. I’ve always liked Broderick Crawford, Gale Sondergaard is on hand as, what else, a housekeeper. There’s also Gladys Cooper (one year before her immortal mother from Hell role in “Now, Voyager”), Alan Ladd (one year before he hit big time stardom in “This Gun for Hire”), Anne Gwynne (one of the prettiest and most appealing of 1940s Universal starlets) and Claire Dodd (one of the prettiest and most personable of 1930s actresses.) That’s a very likeable cast. And then there’s Hugh Herbert.
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Now, I like Hugh Herbert a lot, so seeing him is always a treat for me. (This is not a commonly held opinion by most people.) For definitive Herbert performances check out his work – comedic gems of the highest order – in the Busby Berkeley musicals “Dames” (1934) (as eccentric millionaire Ezra Ounce, driving family members crazy with his desire for his “medicine” Dr. Silver’s Golden Elixir) and in “Gold Diggers of 1935” (an eccentric millionaire again, this time T. Mosley Thorpe III, an avid collector of snuff boxes). If you don’t like Herbert in these films, you won’t like him in anything. He drives a lot of people nuts. Me, I find him very funny.

“The Black Cat” only runs 71 minutes. It’s no great shakes, but a more than agreeable viewing experience, especially with that cast and that gorgeous black and white photography on display.

Rating for “The Black Cat”: Two and a half stars.

International House

“International House” (1933) is one of those free-wheeling, anything for a laugh, Pre-Code comedies that I find irresistible. There’s basically no plot, but plenty of opportunities for specialty numbers, skits, and riotous comedy.

Paramount, that most Continental of movie studios, seemed to have a special affinity for these types of loopy, off-the-cuff, anything goes movies. Check out Bing Crosby’s feature film debut “The Big Broadcast” (1932) and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Paramount had the right actors, writers, directors and technicians who could effortlessly pull off these types of movies while making it all look so easy.

And like a cherry on a sundae, “International House” is topped off by the presence of the great W.C. Fields.

Was W.C. Fields the funniest man who ever lived? I don’t know, but whenever I’m watching one of his movies I think he is.

How to describe the plot of “International House?” Let’s see, there’s an inventor trying to interest a group of investors in a new fangled invention called television. They are all gathered at the International House, a lavish hotel, in Wu-Hu, China. Fields is flyer and explorer Henry R. Quail, who is attempting to fly around the world in his specially designed airplane (liberally stocked with his favorite beverages, as seen here).



He mistakes Wu-Hu for Kansas City and makes an emergency landing in the middle of a floor show. Like a one-man army, he practically turns the hotel upside down to suit his purposes, mainly in pursuit of Peggy Hopkins Joyce, playing herself. In real life Joyce was a notorious serial divorcee and plays the part to the hilt. She has a suitor (Bela Lugosi) who does not appreciate Quail’s interest in her.

There’s also George Burns and Gracie Allen as the hotel doctor and nurse, the incomparable Franklin Pangborn as the hotel manager, and Stu Erwin, desperately trying to keep Ms. Joyce at arms length for fear of incurring his fiancee’s wrath.

The television demonstrations don’t go as planned, and instead of showing the investors a six-day bicycle race in New York, the signals go astray and pick up performances from crooner Rudy Vallee, Baby Rose Marie belting out a tune at the top of her lungs, a painfully unfunny comedy skit by Colonel Stoopnagle and Budd (radio comedians?) and Cab Calloway singing “Reefer Man” about the joys of marijuana. (You can bet THAT number would not have been allowed in the reformed Production Code a year later).

But center stage belongs gloriously to Fields. I think his entrance to Wu-Hu is one of the greatest in movie history. Customers atop the rooftop of the International House hear a noise and look up to see a bizarre looking airplane hovering above them. Over the noise of the engines can be heard the familiar Fields voice asking, “Is this Kansas City, Kansas, or Kansas City, Missouri?”

Forced to make an emergency landing, he finds out he is in Wu-Hu in a comedy exchange I won’t repeat for fear of spoiling it. But when told he is lost, Fields exclaims, “Kansas City is lost. I am found.”

I don’t know why that cracks me up, but that’s one of my favorite lines of all time. If I’m having a bad day or annoyed with something, I just think to myself “Kansas City is lost, I am found” and all is right with the world.

It’s always good to see Lugosi, especially in a big budget studio picture like this. Like his performance in the Joe E. Brown comedy “Broadminded” (1931), he was adept at comedy and it’s too bad he could not have more comedies like this. His larger than life personality is perfect for these quirky, off-the-wall, surreal yet eminently enjoyable comedies.

Rating for “International House”: Three and a half stars.