A Night to Remember (1942)

Fans of Sidney Toler’s Charlie Chan characterization will likely enjoy “A Night to Remember” (1942), a murder mystery comedy where Sidney plays Inspector Hankins, called in to investigate the murder of a man found in the backyard of a Greenwich Village apartment building.

The couple who discover the body are played by Loretta Young and Brian Aherne. He’s a mystery writer and she thinks their new Greenwich garden apartment is the ideal setting for him to write his mysteries. Of course, with a real murder mystery in their own back yard (literally), the couple decides to investigate the mystery on their own.

“A Night to Remember” was produced by Columbia Pictures, and what an odd coincidence that it should appear the same year Columbia produced “My Sister Eileen”, also set in a Greenwich Village garden apartment. Coincidence, or did a Columbia executive have a Greenwich garden apartment fetish? In another nod to Eileen, actress Jeff Donnell appears here too, again as an upstairs neighbor. (I also wonder if Columbia re-used the apartment set. It doesn’t look like the one used in Eileen, but Hollywood’s production designers are wizards at adapting their sets for more than one purpose.)

It’s an amusing enough trifle I suppose, and many think it’s one of the better comedy mysteries made in that era. I thought it took a while to get going and never really picked up steam.

Sidney Toler is good though. He was at an odd point in his career when he made this. Because of World War II, Twentieth Century Fox elected to cease production on their very popular Charlie Chan series. Even though Charlie was of Chinese descent, and China was our ally, it was still considered incendiary to have an Asian hero. In 1944, Toler purchased from Fox the film rights to the Charlie Chan character and brought the Charlie Chan series, with himself in the lead, to Monogram Studios, where the series continued for 11 more Charlie Chan B mysteries until Toler’s death in 1947.

Between Fox and Monogram though, Toler kept busy with a variety of assignments, including this outing. It’s fun to see Toler interview suspects wearing a dark suit, instead of Charlie’s usual white attire. In what I suspect is a nod to his Chan portrayal, at one point he even politely bows to one of the suspects, and says “Thank you so much.” It has to be a joke about his Chan portrayals.

The funniest exchange occurs between Inspector Hankins and Aherne’s Jeff Troy character, who explains to the Inspector that his pen name is Jeff Yort. Get it, he asks the Inspector?

The Inspector nods in understanding and tells him he read his last murder mystery, “Murder on the Terrace.” Jeff asks what he thought of it. Inspector Hankins says, “It knits. Get it?”

Young and Aherne both overact for my taste, and its up to a fine supporting cast to keep us interested. Welcome faces like Gale Sondergaard, Donald MacBride and Lee Patrick provide much amusement.

It’s all very light and pleasant enough. It’s not bad, but there’s not much to get excited about either. A better movie involving a mystery author who gets involved in a real life mystery is “Footsteps in the Dark: (1941) with Errol Flynn, Brenda Marshall and Ralph Bellamy.

Mantan the Funnyman

(Background material and quotations are taken from Mantan the Funnyman: The Life and Times of Mantan Moreland by Michael H. Price. (Midnight Marquee Press, Inc., 2006).

I think it was in the late 1980s or so that AMC ran a Charlie Chan marathon one weekend. A young woman I worked with was very excited about it as she remembered enjoying them as a little girl years ago from the WGN airings on Sunday afternoons. When I saw her on Monday she expressed disappointment that they did not show any of the titles with Birmingham Brown.

I told her the Birmingham Brown character, the chauffeur to Mr. Charlie Chan, only appeared in the Monogram productions. The titles AMC showed where the 20th Century Fox titles and not the Monogram offerings. She shrugged and said she still hoped they would show the Birmingham Brown movies again. She said with a huge smile on her face, “He was so funny.”

Indeed he was, and I found it interesting she didn’t care about the mysteries in the Charlie Chan titles she saw as a young girl, but she responded to the comedy relief provided by Mantan Moreland, the brilliant black comedian who essayed the role of Birmingham Brown in 15 Charlie Chan B mystery movies at Monogram. He also appeared as comedy relief in many a Monogram programmer, including a couple of their best remembered horror offerings, as well as comedy relief at other studios as well.

Serious horror and mystery fans might shudder to hear that comedy relief is the highlight of the Monogram movies, but that’s definitely the case with Mantan Moreland. He was very, very funny and his comedy holds up very well today. Years in vaudeville ensured he knew how to connect with an audience and was already ready with a quip should he be forced to improvise.

I think it’s safe to say that the best thing about the Monogram Chans is Mantan Moreland. Moreland is one of those people who you see and instantly brighten up. In addition to the Chans, he’s also the highlight of Monogram’s horror titles “King of the Zombies” (1941) and “Revenge of the Zombies” (1943).

Threadbare productions they are, but Moreland takes the proceedings seriously. On the surface, his is a “feet, don’t fail me now” philosophy when confronted with ghosts, dead bodies, or zombies. But he’s someone the audience can identify with. Most of us would feel the same way and don’t enjoy the serene calmness of Charlie Chan when confronted with a mystery. We just want to get out of there and have no desire to stay in the same room with a recently murdered corpse.

I also always liked the way Moreland pronounced the word “zombie.” Rather than a harsh two syllables, he adds a strong emphasis on the first syllable and draws it out, with a touch of awe (and fear) in his voice.

Unfortunately, Mantan Moreland was a victim of political correctness run amok in the Civil Rights era, where many considered him an embarrassment with his roles as a waiter, train porter, or, yes, a chauffeur. His humor was considered demeaning and racist and his career suffered a huge setback in the 1950s and 1960s.

However Mantan Moreland has many defenders, including several black filmmakers who followed in his wake. Moreland’s biographer, Michael H. Price, has been championing Moreland for years.

Price quotes director Melvin van Peebles, who believes there was nothing demeaning in Moreland’s portrayals; he was just being funny.

Van Peebles calls it “a tragedy…that Mantan was left out in the cold in his prime, that the studios let themselves be bullied into agreeing that his image fostered some sort of racism.

“Now Stepin Fetchit – I could see him causing white people to think the less of black people. But even Stepin Fetchit didn’t pretend to represent any class beyond his own sense of humor. Mantan, now, his gift was simply, brilliantly, that of finding the humor in any given situation. He was not a political being, and he was no apologist either.

“To my way of thinking, he actually brought out the resilience and the resourcefulness in the characters he was assigned to portray. His speaking voice was no exaggerated dialect – that was the way he talked, just as deep-Southern as you please. Nowadays, we’d call it Ebonics. The entire so-called New Black Cinema, from Spike Lee to Eddie Murphy to my own son (Mario Van Peebles) owes a great deal to trails that were blazed by Mantan.”

Price also relates a quote director Spike Lee gave during a 2000 interview with The Bergen Record of New Jersey: “Ten years back, I thought Stepin Fetchit was an Uncle Tom…I’ve come to understand that, unlike us today, [such artists] didn’t have a choice. And these guys were good artists. Mantan Moreland – that guy was funny. Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson - I don’t think it was his choice to spend the best years of his life dancing with Shirley Temple. Hattie McDaniel had the famous quote, ‘It’s better to play a maid than be a maid.’ So I’ve gained a much greater understanding…nowadays we have choices – at least more choices than Mantan Moreland or Stepin Fetchit.”


The Third Stooge?

Mantan Moreland might be better known today if he became one of The Three Stooges, as was planned at one time. A 1942 movie gives a slight preview as to what it may have been like.

“The Strange Case of Dr. Rx” (1942) is a pretty dismal mystery movie courtesy Universal Studios, with a few very tame horror elements thrown in. Mantan Moreland appears as Patric Knowles’ manservant, but the most interesting thing about it are the scenes he plays with Shemp Howard. They enjoy some verbal dexterity with each other and there are even a few Stooge-like slaps thrown in. When Shemp died in 1955, his brother Moe was looking to replace him, and thought Mantan Moreland would be ideal.

But Columbia Studios nixed the idea, believing America was not ready for an integrated comedy team. Moe tried to convince them otherwise, to no avail. I think Mantan Moreland would have been a marvelous addition to the team. Instead we had to settle for Joe Besser, arguably everyone’s least favorite Stooge.

Price interviewed Moe Howard in 1973 who had this to say about Mantan Moreland replacing Shemp: “We really should’ a’ made Mantan Moreland our next third Stooge back when my brother Shemp cashed in (in 1955). They’d worked together, y’know, and Shemp actually had recommended Mantan if the need should ever, God forbid, arise.

“Mantan was responsive, when Larry (Fine) and I talked the idea over with him. I mean, we’d all seen our better days by that time, but ol’ Moreland, - now there was a talent that could’ a’ invigorated the whole act! He had the word play – you ever heard him do that ‘anticipation’ routine, where he and one or another of his partners finished each other’s sentences? – and he had the physical shtick, the jive moves and double take receptions that would’ a’ filled in the gaps when Jerome (Curly) and Shemp had kept covered.

“But of course Columbia (Pictures’ management) demanded a white guy, because they’d apparently been scared off of Mantan, and we ended up with that prissy damned Joe Besser, who was whatcha might call a pain…I’ve always thought what a great act the Stooges could’ a’ stayed for a while, if only we’d’ a’ gone with Mantan.”

The Glories of Monogram

It’s ironic that Poverty Row studio Monogram had no such qualms about having an integrated team, and showed much greater foresight than the much bigger Columbia Pictures.

Between 1939 and 1941, Monogram teamed Mantan with Frankie Darro in eight B movies. To the best of my knowledge, no race riots occurred and civilization did not come crashing down. I haven’t seen all of them, but the few I have seen have been quite good. “Up in the Air” (1940), (no relation to the George Clooney movie) is a pretty nifty murder mystery set in a radio station, and “The Gang’s All Here’ (1941) (no relation to the Alice Faye musical) is a more than respectable B movie about rival truck operators.

Moreland’s daughter Marcella said Monogram allowed her father to do what he did best – improvise. “Daddy was a painstaking writer of his comedy routines, okay, but he also had a gift for making up precisely the right saying on the spot, especially when the cameras were rolling. He’d come up with these out-of-the-blue line and exchanges there, at Monogram Pictures, and the directors – Phil Rosen was a favorite of ours, and Jean Yarbrough – would keep on rolling with the scene, oftener than not. The bigger studios were less encouraging, in that respect. But Monogram, it seems, just sort of let Daddy direct himself, and he always came up with something finer than what had been written for him to do or say.”

Moreland gives “King of the Zombies” its best comedy line, when after being hypnotized by zombie guru Mikos Sangre (Henry Victor), Moreland joins a line of zombies saying, ““Move over boys, I’m one of the gang now.” Moreland’s delivery of the line is priceless.

Moe Howard mentioned the “anticipation” routine. This was Moreland’s “Who’s on First”, and one he finessed with for years. He called it “Indefinite Talk” where two people would meet and have a rapid-fire conversation by finishing each other’s sentences. He did it with many partners, but most memorably with Ben Carter, who had the timing for the routine down pat. Thanks to the magic of film, the routine can be enjoyed for all to see when Moreland and Carter recreated it in “The Scarlet Clue” (1945), one of the Monogram Chans.

The final years were sad. Work was hard to come by. There was the occasional movie, like Jack Hill’s immortal “Spider Baby or The Maddest Story Ever Told” (1964), one of the great gonzo movies of all time, and appearances on television shows like “The Bill Cosby Show.” His last film was a New World Pictures exploitation flick called “The Young Nurses” (1973). He died in 1973 at the age of 71

The ending may have been sad, but the preceding years weren’t. Mantan Moreland was one of the most dependable comedians of the Golden Age of Hollywood and his special talent continues to resonate today. Just look past what outfit he was wearing and witness a true comic genius.

Top 100 Favorite Movies Part III

Part three of my 100 Favorite Films. Don’t worry, we’ll get to current movies soon. In about the final of ten posts. BTW, on this blog current movies mean anything made in the last 30 years.

“Charlie Chan at Treasure Island” (1939). I love the Charlie Chan films almost as much as the Sherlock Holmes series, and while I prefer Warner Oland’s Chan by a hair over Sidney Toler’s Chan, I do tend to like the Toler films a bit better. For me, the Toler entries at Fox boasted stronger production values and more colorful supporting casts. This one is one of the best, set against the Treasure Island attraction at the 1939 World Exposition in San Francisco. Besides being a first-rate mystery, there’s a touch of the occult in the proceedings thanks to a phony fortune teller racket. Cesar Romero heads a strong cast. Wouldn’t it be great if in real life murderers were uncovered in such dramatic fashion as in the Chan films?

“Gunga Din” (1939). One of the most sheerly enjoyable movies ever made, I’m afraid this film would not go over well today due to its treatment of the Indian population. Three British soldiers (Cary Grant, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr, and Victor McLaglen) single-handedly take on hordes of Kali-worshipping Thuggee cultists in colonial India. But the action is thrillingly staged and the byplay between the three soldiers is a joy to behold. I bet Steven Spielberg screened this one a lot before undertaking “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” (1984).

“Stagecoach” (1939). The film that made John Wayne a star. Regardless of how you feel about Wayne, this is one of the greatest westerns ever. As I’ve noted in previous blog entries, I’m a sucker for movies set in confined and/or isolated settings and this film features both. Nine distinct characters with their own reasons take a stagecoach through hostile Indian territory. This was John Ford’s first film photographed in Monument Valley and his love for the locale is evident throughout. A western for people who don’t like westerns.

“The Wizard of Oz” (1939). Oddly, I never liked this one much as a kid. I don’t know why, and didn’t re-discover it until I was older. We didn’t have a color TV until I was a sophomore in high school, so the contrast between the black and white bookends and the rest of the film never resonated with me. I didn’t even watch the “Charlie’s Angels” tv show during the first season, because I would have watched it in black and white and what’s the fun in that? Oh yeah, back to “The Wizard of Oz.” Good movie.

"Gone With the Wind” (1939). One of the strongest examples of narrative filmmaking ever turned out by Hollywood. The first half is especially strong, but the whole film is a prime example of the Hollywood factory system at its strongest. Another perfectly cast film, save for Leslie Howard’s Ashley Wilkes. Howard hated the role and felt Ashley was a simpering idiot; you feel that Howard wishes he were anywhere but in this movie. I wish Randolph Scott had been cast in that role. Pretty good Max Steiner score too.

“The Bank Dick” (1940). More W.C. Fields, and another one guaranteed to chase the blues away, offering one colossal belly laugh after another. Every frame is a jewel. Shemp Howard has one of his best roles as Joe the bartender. Ditto for Grady Sutton as the immortally named Og Oggilby.

“The Mark of Zorro” (1940). Swashbuckling action with Tyrone Power giving what I think is his best performance. His Don Diego is the most foppish man you’ll ever see, giving the impression he can barely roust himself from his scented baths. But when night comes and he slips on that costume, look out. The sword duel between Power and Basil Rathbone is perhaps the best one ever filmed. Arthur Miller’s gorgeous black and white photography has been accurately described as “sun-baked” and I can’t think of a better adjective.

“The Sea Hawk” (1940). Sorry for the redundancy – two swashbucklers in a row, but in 1940 the studio system was operating at such peak efficiency that they could seemingly turn out lavish swashbuckling adventure films in their sleep. The fact that there are so few four-star swashbucklers show how difficult it is to do these well, and this is one of the very best. Errol Flynn is the reckless English sea hawk, attacking Spanish navy vessels without the permission of Elizabeth I (Flora Robson). He’s captured and sentenced to chains on a Spanish galley for the rest of his life. When he escapes and hears about the plans for the Armada, it’s a race to England before the Armada can be launched. Flynn is at his peak here – a true original there’s never been anyone like him before or since. I wish Basil Rathbone were the English spy Lord Wolfingham, but Basil was over at Fox giving Tyrone Power fits in “Mark of Zorro.” Henry Daniell makes a fine substitute. Michael Curtiz again directs with his usual flair (love those giant shadows on the wall during the final duel) and the Korngold score offers some of the greatest music ever recorded to celluloid.

“The Thief of Bagdad” (1940). One of the greatest fantasy films ever, and one of the most physically beautiful viewing experiences of all time. Gorgeous Technicolor, sets and costumes, this is an Arabian Nights fantasy come to life. Conrad Veidt is the sorcerer Jaffar; I’m sure he gave nightmares to many a kid over the years. For a film with such a fractured production history (started in England, then moved to the U.S. when World War II broke out) and with three different directors credited, it’s a miracle the film turned out as well as it did. The bad thing about the gorgeous new DVD transfer on the Criterion label is they did such a splendid job one can now see the wires holding up the flying carpet. I pretend I don’t see them. The Miklos Rozsa score is pure music magic, one glorious melody after another.

“All That Money Can Buy”, also known as “The Devil and Daniel Webster” (1941). Along with the aforementioned “Thief of Bagdad”, this is a strong contender as the finest fantasy film of all time. Walter Huston is Mr. Scratch, aka The Devil, who takes the soul of Jabez Stone (James Craig) in return for seven years of riches and prosperity. When Jabez doesn’t want to deliver his soul, he hires Daniel Webster (Edward Arnold) to represent him at a trial, with the jurors being American’s greatest criminals. There’s a haunting mood to this movie which is very unique. Director William Dieterle may be one of Hollywood’s great underrated talents. Bernard Herrmann won his only Oscar for his score, and it’s a beautiful piece of Americana. Huston is a marvel, one of the most devilishly gleeful performances of all time. Mr. Scratch’s entrance is a wonder, done with smoke, lighting and mirrors, proof positive you don’t need elaborate CGI effects to make a strong impression. Some times the best special effects are the simple ones done in the camera. This was released by RKO the same year they released “Citizen Kane.” The mind boggles. The workers at RKO must have gone home giddy every night, marveling at the work they were involved in.

Castle in the Desert

“Castle in the Desert” (1942) was the last Charlie Chan film produced by 20th Century Fox and unlike many final series entries, it’s a most respectable conclusion. An unusual setting, great atmosphere and wonderful supporting cast really elevate this one.

Charlie Chan (Sidney Toler) is summoned to a mysterious castle in the Mojave desert owned by the Manderleys (shades of “Rebecca.”) Paul Manderley (Douglass Dumbrille) is a historian studying the Borgias. His wife Lucrezia “Lucy” (Lenita Lane) is a direct descendant of the infamous family of poisoners. Manderley keeps half his face hidden under a large scarf, thanks to an industrial accident which left part of his face horribly scarred.

He’s so intent on immersing himself in the 16th century while writing about the Borgias, that the Manderley Castle has no phone or radio.

Effectively cut off from the world (accessible only by taxi, with the nearest town 70 miles away), the Castle nevertheless welcomes a houseful of guests.

The great Henry Daniell shows up as a sculptor and there are others on hand, including Steven Geray, Edmund MacDonald and the conventional young couple, Arleen Whelan and Richard Derr. Ethel Griffies, the old ornithologist in the café in “The Birds” (1963), plays a woman with supposed mystical powers who sneaks into the castle to warn everyone of impending doom.

Why Charlie was invited no one knows, but it’s a good thing he’s there, because poison soon claims its first victim, played by Milton Parsons. (Always liked Milton, and was sorry to see him go so soon).

Apparently someone suspected Charlie’s services would be needed. Fortunately Number Two Son Jimmy (Sen Yung) has a week’s leave from the Army and is happy to help “Pop” with the case. In Jimmy’s case, help equals hindrance.

The interior design of the castle is a marvel, filled with all kinds of macabre furniture and props. The lighting is particularly good here. Also, any movie that boasts both Douglass Dumbrille and Henry Daniell in the cast is automatic viewing.

Thanks to World War II, Fox pulled the plug on the Chan series. I’ve never quite understood why. Not making any more Mr. Moto movies makes a certain kind of sense since he was Japanese, but Charlie is of Chinese descent, and an American citizen to boot. Perhaps Fox thought Charlie was more suited to detective work, which seemed trivial in light of current world events. There were now spies and enemy agents to capture, and Fox’s newest in-house sleuth, Michael Shayne, could handle that, and provide more physical action, than Charlie could.

Charlie Chan wasn’t the only detective series the studio dropped. Fox had made two very successful Sherlock Holmes films in 1939 with (of course) Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, both set in Victorian England. They declined the option to make additional entries, feeling audiences wouldn’t care about Victorian skullduggery when the war was going on. So off they went to Universal, starring in arguably the most popular detective series of all time (and with an updating that included entries where Holmes and Watson battle Nazis).

Charlie Chan, still played by Sidney Toler, also moved, but instead of a lateral move to another major studio, he wound up at Monogram Pictures, that Poverty Row studio par excellence. Toler played Charlie 11 more times at Monogram, before dying in 1947. Monogram replaced him with Roland Winters, in six additional titles before ending the series for good in 1949.

Production-wise, of course, the Monograms can’t hold a candle to Fox, and several of the Monogram Tolers like “Dangerous Money” (1947) and “The Trap” are unspeakably bad, and are probably the worst Charlie Chan films ever.

But the Monograms had what Fox didn’t – the great comedian Mantan Moreland as Birmingham Brown, the Chan family chauffeur. His comedy relief, still genuinely funny today, is the highlight of these films. Birmingham Brown wants nothing to do with murders, or corpses, but of course, when you chauffeur Charlie Chan, that’s not going to happen.

Even if it wasn’t the last in the series from 20th Century Fox, “Castle in the Desert” would still earn kudos as a more than respectable entry in the Charlie Chan filmography.

Rating for “Castle in the Desert”: Two and a half stars.

Charlie Chan at Monte Carlo

“Charlie Chan at Monte Carlo” (1937) has always been my least favorite of the Warner Oland Chans, and last night’s viewing on DVD did nothing to dispel that notion.

The mystery is perfunctory, the supporting cast is colorless, and it just sits there. Oland is as likeable as ever, and there’s an amusing scene where Charlie tries to order waffles for breakfast to an uncomprehending French waiter, but that’s about it.

The last scene is bittersweet though, as Charlie and Number One Son Lee (Keye Luke) drive off and Charlie waves goodbye. Warner Oland died later that year. This was his last film and it’s almost as if he’s waving goodbye to us.

The recent DVD release does offer a splendid transfer and there’s a very interesting documentary on Warner Oland. He had a drinking problem which led to his premature death, but he was by all accounts a warm and gentle man who genuinely enjoyed playing Charlie Chan and thought Charlie was a good role model. He never objected to the typecasting and looked forward to playing Charlie for years to come. Alas, it was not to be.

Twentieth Century Fox is to be commended for the wonderful job they’ve done with the Chan volumes. Charlie Chan Vol. 4 is in the pipeline which means the introduction of Sidney Toler to the series. While I prefer the warm and human portrayal that Warner Oland brings to the character, I think I prefer the Sidney Toler titles as actual films. The scripts are sharper, the suspects more colorful and the productions more polished. There’s more comedy with Number Two Son Jimmy (Victor Sen Yung) proving to be more of a loving irritation to Charlie than Number One Son Lee ever was.

If Fox sticks to releasing them in chronological order, Vol. 4 will contain “Charlie Chan in Honolulu” (1938), a good one; “Charlie Chan in Reno” (1939), another good one; “Charlie Chan at Treasure Island” (1939), arguably the best Charlie Chan movie; and “Charlie Chan in City of Darkness” (1939), arguably the worst.

Three out of four isn’t bad.

Rating for “Charlie Chan at Monte Carlo”: Two stars.

Across the Pacific

“Across the Pacific” (1942) is a nifty spy melodrama that offers a pleasant reunion of three key players (Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, and Sidney Greenstreet) and director (John Huston) from the previous year’s “The Maltese Falcon”, which was a big hit for Warner Bros.

The film takes place just before the bombing at Pearl Harbor and details how ex-solider Bogart gets swept up in a Japanese plot to blow up the Panama Canal. Much of the action takes place on a Japanese-owned passenger/cargo ship which seems to travel through heavy fog an awful lot in the evening (movie fog is a wondrous thing to behold in black and white). Of course the ship is rife with mysterious travelers and people whose identities are not what they seem.

It’s all most enjoyable, and moves along at a crisp 97 minutes. I continue to be amazed at the pace of these Warner Bros. “A” features. Of all the major studios of the era, most of the Warner Bros. features are as fast paced as a “B” movie. It’s just one of the many reasons why it’s my favorite studio from Hollywood’s Golden Age.

For Charlie Chan fans there is the additional fun of seeing Number One Son (Keye Luke) and Number Two Son (Sen Yung) in supporting roles.

Rating for "Across the Pacific": Three stars

A Weekend of Movie Viewing

I enjoyed a four-day weekend last week, which allowed me to catch up on a few movies. In two cases, films I had remembered turned out differently from my old memory.

Since my most recent blog was about “The Sundowners” I thought I would watch another 1960 release, “Home from the Hill”, a piece of Southern-fried soap opera also starring Robert Mitchum, though as a very different kind of father from the loving one presented in “The Sundowners.” In this one, Mitchum plays a wealthy landowner with two sons, one legitimate (George Hamilton) and one illegitimate (George Peppard). I was going to be clever and point out the differences between Mitchum’s father portrayals in the same year. I’d only seen “Home from the Hill” once before, but I remember it as being a pretty good movie, with Mitchum terrifying his role as the Southern patriarch who pits his two sons against each other.

Well, it’s nothing like that. He’s actually a sympathetic father to Hamilton, who is shy and in awe of his father. He takes him hunting and prepares him on the road to manhood. He admits he’s made mistakes, and is anxious to forge a strong relationship with his son. Circumstances prove otherwise.

It’s not very good. It’s long (150 minutes) and the character’s motivations seem contrived and confused. It’s adapted from a long novel but in adapting it all the I’s weren’t dotted and all the T’s weren’t crossed. Even Mitchum’s character seems to change depending on the scene. He’s fine in the individual scenes, but when it was over I never got a grasp of the character or where he was coming from. Still, Mitchum remains supremely watchable as ever. There’s also a nice score by Bronislau Kaper, with a majestic main theme that makes one wish one could live in a soap opera with a dysfunctional family, only if such a melody were present in the background.

Rating for “Home from the Hill”: A disappointing two and a half stars.

From TCM I watched “The Black Knight” (1954), starring, of all people, Alan Ladd, in the title role and set during the time of Camelot. I hadn’t seen it since grade school when it appeared on the 3:30 movie and the only thing I remembered about it was a scene where some Druids (or some other pagan representatives) were holding a human sacrifice outdoors at a Stonehenge-like temple. There were these giant wicker cages suspended in the air by ropes where Druid dancers were writhing around, kind of a like a medieval disco. It made quite an impression on me.

Unfortunately my memory was slightly skewed, as the wicker cages contained monks and priests, who are shown praying as the pagans practice their idolatrous ways. Oh, there’s still a sacrifice scene, and there are Druid dancing girls but they are on the ground and not up in the air as a precursor to the sacrifice. I admit to being somewhat disappointed that I didn’t see those Druid women writhing about in those cages. No doubt a psychiatrist can explain why.

The rest of “The Black Knight” is pretty clunky, and Alan Ladd looks as out of place in medieval England as Keanu Reeves would, but it’s entertaining enough, and boasts a nice villainous turn by Peter Cushing and a tuneful score by John Addison.

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

One of the worst movies I’ve ever seen, and easily the worst of the year, is “Transformers”, a monument to stupidity the likes of which we haven’t seen in years. There’s a cliché that director Michael Bay is the Antichrist of Hollywood, and represents everything wrong with contemporary Hollywood cinema and I’m afraid this is one cliché that is correct. Everyone connected with this pile of garbage should be ashamed of themselves. (And its, gasp, 144 minutes!)

Rating for “Transformers”: One star.

The most enjoyable movie I watched all weekend was “The Black Camel” (1931) found on Vol. 3 of the new Charlie Chan DVD set. Out of the first five Charlie Chan movies to star Warner Oland, only “The Black Camel” survives. It’s a good one, with Charlie investigating the murder of a movie star on location in Honolulu. There’s a colorful cast of suspects, including “Dracula” stars Bela Lugosi (as a swami) and Dwight Frye, an impossibly youthful looking Robert Young and beady-eyed C. Henry Gordon, who nine years later would be a suspect in “Charlie Chan at the Wax Museum.” Oland, in his second turn as the famous sleuth, has the mannerisms down pat, and he’s an absolute delight in the role, especially in his gentle put downs of an over-zealous assistant.

Fox took added expense to film on location in Honolulu, a rare occurrence at the time, and the scenes of 1931 Honolulu have an added charm. All this and a running time of only 71 minutes.

For years, “The Black Camel” was only available on bad looking black markets tapes, so I’m thrilled Fox put this out on DVD. It’s probably the DVD release of the year so far.

Rating for “The Black Camel”: Three stars. Thank you so much.

More Chan Coming This Summer

I was very pleased to hear that Fox Home Video is continuing their DVD releases of the Charlie Chan series. Volume 3, due in stores on August 14, is a particular bonanza as it contains the remaining Warner Oland Chan films, including the long sought-after "The Black Camel" previously available only on bootleg tapes of poor quality. (There are several additional Warner Oland Charlie Chan titles from the early 1930s titles that are lost. It is hoped they will turn up in a dusty corner of some vault somewhere).

One title happily not lost, however, is "The Black Camel."

"The Black Camel" from 1931, was apparently leased by Warner Home Video. I haven't seen it in more than 30 years when a film collector friend loaned it to my dad on 16 mm. If memory serves it's pretty good. Unlike most Hollywood films at the time that were filmed on studio backots, Fox sent cast and crew to Honolulu to film on location. The scenes of 1931 Hawaii are fascinating, and as an added bonus to horror buffs, the film re-teams "Dracula" stars Bela Lugosi and Dwight Frye as suspects. I'm really looking to re-visiting this one.

"Charlie Chan's Secret" was previously released on VHS, and is a good mystery involving a mysterious mansion and a seance. "Charlie Chan on Broadway" has a jaw dropping twist at the end. "Charlie Chan in Monte Carlo" was Warner Oland's last film, and is, sad to say, one of the weakest Chan films of all. The mystery is uninvolving and Oland seems distracted and bored. There is an amusing sequence, however, when Charlie tries to order a waffle for breakfast from an uncomprehending French waiter.

As an added bonus, the set will include the first talkie Charlie Chan film, the 1929 "Behind That Curtain." Though based on a Chan novel, the film only includes Charlie briefly at the very end. The rest of it is pretty dull stuff, though for the completist in us, it will be nice to have.

Augst 14 can't come soon enough.