Sherwood Forest's Number One Archer

THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD (1938)

An Appreciation by Jerry Saravia

There have been many Robin Hoods but there is only one that epitomizes courage, heroism, killer instinct, sarcasm, wit, cleverness, not to mention the joy of living in Sherwood Forest despite hardships from royalty, you know, high taxes. Errol Flynn as Robin of Locksley in the greatest adventure film of all time, the grandly humorous, richly designed, richly directed and richly acted "The Adventures of Robin Hood." The film is so sumptuous in every respect with rich Technicolor colors that bounce off the screen that it is more than an artifact of its time, the film is a blazing, ecstatically performed entertainment that hooks you from first frame to last. The fact that no Robin Hood has come close to this 1938 screen classic should you tell a lot.

The story is so well-known and has been reorganized in so many different ways with certain villainous characters getting more exposure than others yet none have come close the high quality villainy as displayed here. Basil Rathbone is the radicalized Sir Guy of Gisbourne who hates Robin Hood and his Merry Men and, naturally, poachers - a banned activity in Sherwood that could get you hanged. Guy loves the vivacious though initially reserved Maid Marian (Olivia De Havilland, never lovelier or more charismatic on screen) who is unaware of Gisbourne's plans that go hand in hand with the devilishly devious Prince John (Claude Rains), a villain you love to hate. Prince John has plans to take over the throne from his brother, the exiled King Richard the Lionhearted (Ian Hunter) who went off to fight in the Crusades and has been captured, and thus has assumed full control of England permitting him to raise taxes on the poor Saxons (that would include Robin Hood and his many Merry Men). The taxes will not be used as ransom money to release King Richard but rather, as Robin bluntly puts it, "To buy your way to the throne."

Right from the start, we see the dashing Errol Flynn's Robin in green tights and feather cap armed with bow and arrow. He is the deadliest archer in England, so deadly he can split an arrow in two! He is accompanied by his friend, Will Scarlett (Patrick Knowles), outfitted in red tights and red cap, though what exactly Will was prior to being Robin's sidekick is unknown. Eventually, after escaping from Prince John and his cohorts, Robin and Will take refuge at Sherwood. We are eventually introduced to a cheerful Little John (Alan Hale, who reprised his role in "The Rogues of Sherwood Forest"); an angry Friar Tuck (Eugene Pallette) who can be made jovial by appealing to his stomach, Much the Miller's Son (Herbert Mundin) who has a thing for Maid Marian's lady-in-waiting (Una O'Connor), and various other Merry Men who eventually all wear green tights and feather caps as well! Outspoken to a tee, Robin leads his Merry Men to rob from the rich and give to the poor. Yes, you have heard all this before yet hardly as invigoratingly as in this film.

Between the exciting, realistically conveyed sword fights, the slinging of arrows, the archery tournament, sharp silhouettes when you least expect them (courtesy of one of the film's directors, Michael Curtiz), the really sharp greens of Sherwood Forest (it is so perfect that you want to live there), the highly invigorating and memorable music score by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, and lots of delectable humor (Robin does a knocking routine on a guard's helmet just so he can pass), there is nothing in "Adventures of Robin Hood" that does not stimulate the senses. Errol Flynn carries the film with his intoxicating enthusiasm, his relentless and fearless need for adventure yet even when he is not on screen, you are captivated by the rest of the very spirited cast. The film is simply the most romantic, dazzling and purest swashbuckling Robin Hood film ever made, and the greatest, most rousing adventure movie of all time.

Critico de Cine: Film Critic Slaps Hand on Forehead

MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE (1966)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

So the Master's' incompetent minion named Torgo (John Markward Reynolds Jr.) has a confrontation with the Master. The Master (Tom Neyman) is some sort of supernatural figure who holds pagan rituals, or maybe just holds a coven of scantily-clad women in white, see-through nightgowns who love to wrestle and slap each other ad nauseam. Torgo's thankless job is to lure passerby in the middle of the desert to a ramshackle rancher that doesn't seem (from the exterior) to contain a spacious room where rituals are held. Anyways, Torgo confronts the Villain With No Name and he wants a wife for himself. The Master knows of Torgo's suspicious activities centering on his wives when they are asleep standing up. Master says he will kill Torgo and basically all he does is stare at him with less than penetrating eyes. Torgo stares back and then slumps on the floor. What a wicked way to die only Torgo is later seen galavanting in the desert behind the Master and a couple of the wives while pursuing the married couple who have stayed at this remote little dwelling. I think the disheveled, hapless fool Torgo, who walks around as if he is trying to shake off the last remaining bits of fecal matter left in his butt, is massaged violently by the nine wives and then loses his hand. Ouch for sure, but not exactly a death.

"Manos: The Hands of Fate" is everything that a movie never is or should be. It is incompetently staged, no scratch that, it is not exactly staged or directed by Harold Warren (his only directorial effort) - the movie just sort of happens due to images recorded with no knowledge of what to do with them. Apparently a Bell and Howell 16mm camera was used that could only record 32 seconds of film footage! Oh, yes, I used such a camera back in the day but I had the advantage of recording almost 2 minutes. The film is beyond shoddy in its washed-out visuals and basic composition - nobody was directed in this movie. The characters look at the camera eye consistently though breaking the fourth wall is not intentional here. Since everything was postdubbed, the syncing of dialogue is occasionally off, though there are times that characters scream yet no screams are heard. A car's ignition is turned on yet the sound is a low hum - the kind of hum you hear when you turn on a 1930's radio. Transitions barely appear - the movie is not cut together, it is merely assembled. The couples' car drives around with no sound of tires heard on the soundtrack, or only when it was conveniently recorded during postproduction. The acting is beyond amateurish - there are actors on screen but little interest in emoting even at the most rudimentary level. John Markward Reynolds, Jr. is fairly decent as Torgo (it is the only actual performance in the movie) - apparently he was high throughout the eight days of production which maybe one needs to be when dealing with a mustachioed guy like the Master who could barely threaten Big Bird. Speaking of the Master, he wears a red-and-black robe with red hands on the front - easily the only imaginative aspect of this unimaginative production.

And yet, even after you know the movie stinks higher than two day old noodles with a touch of ketchup, "Manos: The Hands of Fate" is somewhat memorable though not exactly tolerable. 

Catch Him if You Can

THE INVISIBLE MAN (1933)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

When you hear the cackle, the wicked humor of Claude Rains' Invisible Man (Dr. Griffin), it sends shivers to your spine because this madman couldn't care less about anyone. After about the last twenty minutes of the film, it is clear that the man is a murderer who just wants to settle down with the woman he dearly loves. This is where it becomes almost unsettling to watch "The Invisible Man" because here is one Universal horror film icon who has a murderous lust and gets off on it - he relishes it. Not the Wolf Man nor Frankenstein's Monster nor even Dracula, to a lesser extent, had such homicidal rage. Even the author of which this film is based on, H.G. Wells, found fault with the character depicted as a lunatic. Still, despite the unsuppressed rage of the main character, "Invisible Man" never misses a beat in keeping you glued to the screen. 

Dr. Griffin, in the chilling opening scenes of "The Invisible Man," checks in at the Lion's Head Inn in Sussex, South East England seeking a room. The owners, including the unforgettable Una O'Connor (herself a staple of early Universal Horror), are sure that this head bandaged man must have had a horrible, disfiguring accident and offer him a room. Little do they know that Dr. Griffin is invisible and is not only trying to retain visibility, he is hoping to make a name for himself by adopting invisibility as something that would be useful in a time of war. After making threats and unveiling his invisibility to the Sussex villagers (and to the most famous of screamers of that time, Una O'Connor), Griffin escapes and it is beguiling fun to watch him push villagers out of his path or ride a bike - they are mystified by this mysterious man. But that upbeat fun soon turns serious when Griffin begins killing people, whether it is a police chief or one of Griffin's trusted associates who betrays him. One scene has Griffin derailing a train - a heart-stopping moment among many. It is not until he is back in the arms of his fiancee, Flora (Gloria Stuart), that he is settled, restrained.

Directed with heightened, restless tension by James Whale (which matches Dr. Griffin's own mental state), "The Invisible Man" progressively trembles our viewing experience, served with wicked relish by that most famous voice belonging to Claude Rains. The special-effects are still awe-inspiring especially when Griffin unwraps his bandages to the villagers - it is a shock to the system. Rains's tremendous, terrorizing voice, his cackle, his brutal nature and his occasional brand of prankish humor are not easy to forget. An astounding, edge-of-your-seat film, one of the best of its kind. 

Nazi hideout in Connecticut

THE STRANGER (1946)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Orson Welles tried for many years to get Hollywood financing for his films but proved unsuccessful, considering the omen following the disastrous reception for his beloved 1942 film "The Magnificent Ambersons." "The Stranger" was his first and only attempt at making a commercial, conventional film (though 1958's "Touch of Evil" might have had commercial prospects had it not been shown on B-movie double bills) - the film was a box-office success but somehow it still did not engineer a fruitful Hollywood career for Welles as a director. It is a strangely disappointing film that, at its worst, is impersonal and cold-hearted. Even Welles called it "the worst film of my career."

Orson Welles takes the title role as a Harper, Connecticut schoolteacher named Charles Rankin, who is in fact an ex-Nazi war criminal named Franz Kindler. Rankin is hiding out in a town where nobody would expect to find a Nazi, especially during the late 1940's. Another Nazi criminal, Meinike (Konstantin Shayne), is released from prison and comes to visit Kindler. Of course, an inquisitive war criminal investigator (Edward G. Robinson) follows Meinike to Connecticut and what was once a tranquil town becomes fraught with danger.

"The Stranger" is the kind of picture Hitchcock was known for, having all the necessary suspense and thriller elements in place. We know from the start that Rankin is a Nazi and that he is married to an innocent American girl (Loretta Young) and this invariably creates an atmosphere of tension - too bad Welles doesn't follow through with it. The faults lie with the numerous loose ends and all too neat-wrap up trivializing the intriguing premise (the producers had forced Welles to make several cuts). For instance, how could Kindler's American wife be so forgiving when Kindler confesses to being an ex-Nazi? It doesn't help that Loretta Young as the wife overacts and her pitiful crying and pleas render her unsympathetic. Of course, the investigator realizes from the start that Rankin is Kindler, so why doesn't he have him arrested? After all, the police find Meinike's body in the woods (Rankin kills him in a chilling scene), Loretta's dog is killed by Rankin, etc - all this occurs in the first act. Plus, there isn't a single character whom we can identify with (excluding Robinson's) because nothing believable or plausible happens to any single person in this movie.

There are, however, some fine performances in this muddled mess. Welles plays one of his best villainous roles, and he plays it fairly straight with an icy interior and exterior - only a quiver of a smile hints at any semblance of humanity. Edward G. Robinson is wonderfully restrained as the investigator, and there's ample comic relief by Billy House as Potter, a checkers-playing owner of a drugstore. Only Loretta Young is pathetic to watch and she sinks the movie in the last half-hour with her incessant whimpering and melodramatic panting.

"The Stranger" has some tour-de-force tracking shots through the woods of this amicable town, and there is a recurring emblematic use of shadows to build tension. Once Young enters the picture, though, all credibility goes out the window, and the film is so sloppily edited that the plot structure collapses. "The Stranger" is a flawed, suspenseless, campy thriller seemingly atypical of Welles's forte. See the far superior "Saboteur" and "Sabotage."

The Tragedy of Larry Talbot

THE WOLF MAN (1941)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The way you walked was thorny, through no fault of your own, but as the rain enters the soil, the river enters the sea, so tears run to a predestined end. Now you will have peace for eternity." 

                                                                                             Maleva - "The Wolf Man"

"The Wolf Man" is such a precious, sweetly precious horror film that could've been so much more. It aims to be psychological yet it only hints at the psychology of its main protagonist, Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney, Jr.). It aims to scare the bejesus out of you yet it only hints at the horror, keeping it muted and mostly concerned with developing empathy towards the emotional temper tantrums of Larry Talbot (given slightly more depth in "Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man"). It also aims to be a love story yet it never enters such terrain, keeping the female lead at arm's length as only a very worried friend who shares a quick kiss on the lips with Larry. And with all that, there is no denying that "The Wolf Man" works wonders because it brings its elements together with fantastical convergence.

There is not much I can say about "The Wolf Man" that has not been said about a classic 70-plus year old horror flick, one of the more fascinating entries in the Universal Monsters series. Originally meant to be an ambiguous psychological horror film about Larry's neurosis concerning whether he is a werewolf and not, "The Wolf Man" has its interests set on Larry Talbot's physical and mentally unsound condition. At first, he seems a happy-go-lucky guy who can fix his dad's giant telescope and is rooting for a romantic entanglement with the blonde antique shop owner, Gwen (Evelyn Ankers, the Queen of the Screamers). Gwen already has a boyfriend but why should that stop Larry, who first notices her through his dad's rather powerful telescope that can give sharp street corner views of antique shop windows! After Larry stops the violent attack of Gwen's friend by a wolf (shown with four legs despite Larry changing into a werewolf later on), Larry is bitten and his wounds heal rather fast. When he seeks advice from the Gypsy Woman named Maleva (Maria Ouspenskaya), Larry is told that his fate is doomed - he must be killed by either a silver bullet or a silver cane (the latter of which he owns) and then he will rest in peace for eternity. The sequels that followed proved just the opposite.

"The Wolf Man" is a curious werewolf picture - all that talk about moon and wolfsbane and we never see a moon or any wolfsbane. One must wonder about the European setting - is it Romania or Transylvania as some horror film experts had thought? No idea, a common question with regards to most of the Universal Horror pictures. Ultimately what is important is that it works thanks to Lon Chaney Jr.'s iconic performance, showing much empathy and he even cries at the tomb of his Gypsy werewolf attacker (well played in a cameo by Bela Lugosi). Maria Ouspenskaya adds urgency and wisdom and her final scene with the dead Talbot will make many misty-eyed. Adding to the film is of course the always fantastic Claude Rains as Larry's father who hopes for the best for his son, and Evelyn Ankers as Gwen who clearly cares for Larry. "The Wolf Man" might be too short for its own good and it had far more potential but it is easy to see why Lon Chaney Jr.'s Larry Talbot remains the most sympathetic, tragic character of all the Universal Monsters.

Tranquil Existence of an Oyster

GOD'S GIFT TO WOMEN (1931)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Sassy, sexy women lining up to be bedmates for a wealthy bachelor may strike some as raunchy by 1930's standards but do remember that films like Michael Curtiz's "God's Gift to Women" existed in the Pre-Code era when you could almost get away with anything. A playful diversion like "God's Gift to Women" will certainly not play to a 2010 audience today but nobody should pass it up - it is a souffle of laughs that kept me smiling. Even a line like, "If you want to live, you must follow the tranquil existence of an oyster" which sums up the lead character's current status, made me do more than chuckle. It is a mild sex farce but with its heart in its sleeve.

Frank Fay is the dapper, charming bachelor Toto Duryea who always has a bevy of women in tow at the local Parisian club. It is there that he sets his eyes on one startling catch - a vivacious blonde named Diane (Laura La Plante). She is tricked into dancing with him, though she will have none of him thanks to the advice of her millionaire father who sees the gent as an amoral lover. You can't keep a wealthy ladies' man down for long as Toto pursues Diane in various disguises, one as a mustachioed janitor of all things and also as a butler. The ruse never lets up and he never backs down. After all, what can one say about a man whose lineage links to the famous Don Juan, keeping a painting of the famous lover in his mansion? When Diane's stern father visits him, an ultimatum is enforced - Toto must consult with the millionaire's doctor and not see any women for six months (that includes the iconic flapper Louise Brooks in one of her first roles post-silent film era). This is no easy task, especially when the doctor tells Toto he has an enlarged aorta and can't get too excited.

Between the running gag of Toto getting tsk-tsked by various characters or the complication of keeping a party of fellow friends in one room or the task of separating three "visiting nurses" who change into lingerie before accompanying the "sick" Toto in bed, "God's Gift to Women" is a fancy treat of a movie with several winsome characters and delectably humorous situations. My major quibble is that Laura La Plante's Diane is practically written out of the movie (originally there were some musical numbers so who knows if she sang a song or two) and she can't quite compete with the casting of the alluring women of Toto's life (who can compete with Louise Brooks?)

Seeing this movie in the same couple of months as "Nothing Sacred" (which Fay also appeared in) and "Dinner at Eight" paints a picture of wealth in the 1930's in varying degrees during the Great Depression (which hit France the same year this film was released). With "God's Gift to Women," Toto lives a carefree existence that has meaning when stricken with the love bug - money is not something he worries about. As the good doctor tells him, he is living life like an oyster.

Tragedy and wealth in Great Depression days

DINNER AT EIGHT (1933)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

An elegant, finely tuned 1933 comic melodrama about wealthy people may not pass muster in 2018 but who cares if they are wealthy? Made in Pre-Code days, "Dinner at Eight" is a hoot and a half, a terrific movie full of delicious zingers and dramatic moments that will give one pause. Director George Cukor plays the audience like a piano and does it about well as any director could, except maybe for Howard Hawks.

An elegant dinner is planned at the Jordans' extravagant looking home with a motley crew of guests. Billie Burke is Mrs. Oliver Jordan, the socialite married to shipping magnate Oliver Jordan (Lionel Barrymore); her main concern is not having a full serving and cooking staff or all the food she needs (a small band is all set up, however, to play a few tunes). Marie Dressler plays one of the guests, Carlotta Vance, the former glorious theatre star who once had a romantic fling with Mr. Jordan with the promise of marriage. Jordan himself has issues, he is sick and is slowly losing business from prospective clients (remember this is the Great Depression era and Carlotta herself is in near financial ruin) due to people buying his stocks. Other guests include Wallace Beery as an aggressively obnoxious businessman who brags about meeting the President for a proposed cabinet position and resolutely hates his young wife, Kitty (a radiant Jean Harlow); Legendary John Barrymore as a former movie star named Renault who squanders any possibility of returning even to Broadway, and the suave Dr. Talbot (Edmund Lowe) who has an agreement with his wife that he may have affairs as long as he comes home to her every night. You know the movie is Pre-Code when a seemingly open marriage is deemed okay by its participants.

"Dinner At Eight" is chock full of surprises and sophisticated humor despite some tragedies that befall a couple of characters. The drama that hovers around Jordan's terminal sickness (unbeknownst to him) or Renault's heavy alcoholism that ruins him is never overplayed and is never treated less than seriously. The comedy always stings with truth, especially between Harlow and Beery (both of whom hated each other off-camera). Truth be told, Cukor was a hell of a director with actors but not so hellbent on striking visuals. "Dinner at Eight" has luxurious bedrooms and magnificently spacious dining rooms that can only remind one of its stage origins - the film is static in that sense but never less than invigorating due to the high energy of the actors. The movie assumes men are somewhat weak, and the women are strong and just as ambitious to climb the social ladder (in addition, Kitty manages to teach her husband proper manners). Naturally, such rebelliously feminist attitudes did not last after the Hays Code was implemented. A classic ending and a boisterous cast, there are few films from the 1930's era that are as unique as "Dinner at Eight." 

Not all elementary, my dear Watson

THE WOMAN IN GREEN (1945)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I can't imagine a more engaging way to spend 67 minutes than watching Basil Rathbone as the pipe-smoking detective Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as the retired Dr. Watson, the latter who is always mystified at Holmes's powers of deduction. "The Woman in Green" is a pleasurable noir thriller (emphasis on noir with its deep shadows and canted angles) and I am pretty sure it will please anyone who loves anything associated with one of the greatest sleuths of all time.

Several women in London are found dead with their forefingers missing. This is one case that leaves Scotland Yard baffled, not to mention Sherlock himself who cannot fathom the identity of the culprit. The assumption by the police detectives is that it is a psychotic, Jack the Ripper-type killer but Holmes senses something more sinister - hypnotism is a central factor. When a certain wealthy widower Sir George Fenwick (Paul Cavanagh) is found to be a probable culprit by Holmes' archenemy Professor Moriarty (Henry Daniell), Holmes and Watson are called into action especially after Fenwick's daughter finds a forefinger in their yard! Evidence eventually points elsewhere after Fenwick is found murdered...of course, I will not reveal more details than that.

Based on two stories from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ("The Final Problem" and "The Empty House"), "The Woman in Green" is sheer escapist fun. Rathbone, one of the more distinguished actors of his time, relishes the Holmes role as if he was born to play him (initially, he was not pleased with the egotism of the character and became typecast). Every instance that Rathbone appears on screen, you can't wait to see what he says or does next. Bruce's Watson is played as a man vulnerable to being trapped into situations, such as getting a fake call where his duties are needed or falling for a hypnotist's trance. Dr. Watson is not dumb, just easily preyed upon unless Holmes can save him in the nick of time.

Between a Julius Caesar bust, an ex-soldier sniper, a shadowy phallic symbol that got past the censors, Holmes walking along the rooftops in a supposed trance, Hilary Brooke as Lydia Marlowe who knows how to trick men into her bidding with the use of "cannabis," and the references to Montevideo, Uruguay (which is where I was born), "The Woman in Green" packs in plenty of thrills and is always one step ahead of the audience. Like all great Holmes thrillers, this one will keep you on the edge of your seat wondering how it all comes together. It is not all elementary.

Flash in the pan in Manhattan

NOTHING SACRED (1937)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There is an implicit strain of odd coolness to "Nothing Sacred," a bitter pill of a screwball romantic comedy that is neither too raucous nor too outrageous despite its subject matter. Directed with a minimum of exaggeration by William Wellman and edited with a relaxed pace, "Nothing Sacred" is often devilishly funny, extremely sardonic and critical of the mainstream newspapers of its time. It is the kind of picture that also manages to be quixotic and quite romantic, well, in ways you least expect.

Fredric March (in one of his more understated roles) plays Wally Cook, a reporter for The New York Morning Star who doesn't exactly triple check the facts of any story he writes. For instance, he has unknowingly perpetrated a hoax about a certain Sultan of Mazipan who is in fact a Harlem bootblack (The Sultan actually shines shoes for a living). Wally is demoted to obituary editor in a tight space next to a water cooler and a ladder. When Wally gets wind that a Vermont girl is dying of radium poisoning, he wants to travel there and get the scoop that could save his job. His anxious editor, Oliver Stone (Walter Connolly), would rather keep Wally editing obits for five years yet caves and gives him another chance.

When Wally arrives in Vermont, everyone speaks to him in one-word sentences. Nobody in the fictional town of Warsaw wants to deal with a hotshot reporter, that is nobody except for Hazel Flagg (Carole Lombard) who is the girl dying of radium poisoning. Actually her doctor informs her she is actually healthy and has no poison in her system so when Wally locates her, she lies about her condition so she can get a free trip to NYC! One shot has Wally explaining to Hazel how she will be adored, and this brief exchange is obscured by a tree branch so you can't see their faces! This shot left me a little perplexed so I can't say why it was composed in such a way.

Writer Ben Hecht takes the screenplay's cues from a short story titled “Letter to the Editor” by James Street and the deeply disturbing true-life tale of the Radium Girls and manages to make "Nothing Sacred" into a spirited romantic comedy with a pulse and a purpose. The people of NYC embrace Hazel who is instantly treated like a celebrity and given the keys to the city. Though there is no surprise in Wally inevitably discovering the truth, he still falls deeply in love with Hazel and is forgiving. Hazel keeps up the act, to the point of staging a suicide to save her own skin and Wally's job. They fight each other, they squabble a little, but it is all in the name of love and saving each other from eventual embarrassment.

As I said, there is a coolness to the proceedings in its bitter, quietly savage indictment of the press and of people who buy into celebrity tabloid stories. Why should Hazel be celebrated for dying (Hazel asks this question too). But when you have the dazzling presence of Lombard, who gives Hazel soul, sympathy and perfect comic timing (watch her swing her arms at Wally), and March who keeps himself restrained, then you have got a winning combination of romantic fireworks. There is a radiant glow of warmth underneath its cynicism, especially in the final scene. "Nothing Sacred" is a keeper.  

Flapper's Freedom

IT (1927)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

A few close-ups of silent siren of the screen Clara Bow in stunning black-and-white should be enough to make any movie lover swoon. Only Clara Bow was not just a pretty actress who could make any man quake in his boots - she had a miraculous, captivating sense of beauty that held various emotions. In the film "It," a film that made her an iconic Hollywood star, she is a rhapsodic presence of resplendent beauty, a woman of some heft who can laugh, cry, be wickedly funny and be instantly amused. And yet she has virtues such as honesty and empathy, always looking to be noticed and yet noticing others. In my mind, those are the real reasons Clara Bow became a star.

The "It" Girl is shopgirl Betty Lou Spence (Clara Bow), working for Waltham's Department Store. Prior to her introduction, the rich heir to Waltham's, Cyrus Waltham, Jr. (Antonio Moreno), is having a brief discussion with playboy Monty (William Austin, a hysterical cartoon of a man with startling eyes) on the much ballyhooed article by Elinor Glyn that brings up the topic of who can have "It" - that instant attraction to someone who has charisma beyond words and doesn't know it or doesn't care (We know that now as sex appeal). Monty looks deeply at Cyrus and knows he does not have "it" though all the shopgirls beg to differ. In a hysterically funny moment, Monty looks at himself in the mirror and proclaims, "Old fruit, you've got It." However, when Monty notices Betty, the "It" factor is clear as day as he asks her on a dinner date to the Ritz. There is a slight dilemma - Betty is fixated on Cyrus who is already engaged to be married. Betty also lives with and supports a sick mother who has a baby out of wedlock (that was the rage of the times) and when suitor Monty comes knocking, he is tricked into believing it is Betty's baby. Cyrus eventually has his eyes set on Betty but can't commit to a woman living in shame. So what we have here is the "It" factor on both sides of the gender fence.

The wisp of a plot is not unlike anything seen back in the 1920's, carried over with more sophisticated storytelling by the time 1934's "It Happened One Night" came around (the latter being possibly the most winning romantic comedy ever made). It is not likely that the plot of "It" will be remembered as much as for the presence of the iridescent Clara Bow. She sparkles the screen, illuminates it and it is hers all the way. She is an all-around happy gal, one easily consumed by love and wanting to love and help others. Not a mean bone in her body. That is what informs "It" and her "It" factor and what makes this sly, funny and at times heartrending romantic comedy one of the best of its kind ever made. 

Walking on Eggshells Around Karloff

THE WALKING DEAD (1936)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Reprinted with permission by Steel Notes Magazine

An ex-con who has just been released from prison can't catch a break. He is a musician who had accidentally killed his wife, and is frustrated due to lack of cash. A stranger in the streets offers him a job to keep track of a certain judge, this judge being the very same one who put the ex-con in jail. It turns out there is more to this than the ex-con thought.

So begins the fast-paced, often hair-raising "The Walking Dead," a noir steeped in elements of horror and it has got the uncanny Boris Karloff as John Ellman, the unlucky pianist who can play composer Christian Sinding's "Rustle of Spring" like nobody's business. When John is hired to make notes on the judge's home schedule, a murder occurs offscreen and the body is dumped inside John's car! It is of course the judge’s corpse and John is executed for his crimes, though evidence of passerby could have saved him had they acted sooner. Nevertheless, John is resurrected by the noble Dr. Beaumont (Edmund Gwenn, best remembered as Santa Claus in “Miracle on 34th Street”) who is anxious to use an untested mechanical heart. When John is revived, he realizes he had been framed and wishes to kill the participants in his electrocution. How John acquires keen insight on the identity of his culprits while he was unaware as an unemployed musician is a good question. In a rather fascinating turn of events in the film, John doesn't actually kill his culprits -- they meet their demise through accidents of their own.

At a running time of 66 minutes, "The Walking Dead" manages to thrill us, terrify us with Boris Karloff's unmatched visage which needs no real horror makeup, humor us and leave us with a Biblical passage that has more depth about the consequences of revitalizing life than even 1931's "Frankenstein." "The Walking Dead" is a relentless nail biter, a classic, and further proof that Karloff could give one nightmares and goosebumps that could last for weeks.

That's Incredible!

SAFETY LAST! (1923)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
(One of my Top 20 Greatest Films Ever Made)

"Safety Last" is one of those rollickingly rickety, hysterically funny roller-caster rides that packs in the thrills with such delirium, you are often surprised at yourself. It is the Harold Lloyd movie-movie, the one that cemented his status as the physical comedian of the impossible. It is also one of those movies where you will literally need to hang on to something.

The Boy (Harold Lloyd) is an employee at the fabrics counter of the De Vore department store. His roots are from an unnamed small town where his hopeful future-wife-to-be (played by Lloyd's real-life wife, Mildred Davis) hopes he makes it big in the city. Well, he has a job but he is not a manager as he claims. Guess who decides to make a surprise visit in the city to see the Boy doing his managerial duties? This is the standard Lloyd comic routine where he works in his fast-paced physical comic timing, in this case proving to his fiancee that he is the manager. This includes last-minute exits and entrances into the manager's office, and the pressing of many alarm buttons for the various workers to enter the office.

When the Boy finds that his roommate, Bill (Bill Strother, his sole acting role), can scale a building like nobody's business, he comes up with a bright idea - convince the De Vore department store that hundreds of customers will show up for an event where his human fly friend will climb the De Vore building and reach the top floor. Plus, there is a 1000 dollars prize at stake!

"Safety Last" has plenty of terrific gags, most of them centered on Lloyd either making it to work on time or handling his customers in a timely fashion. There is nothing funnier than seeing Lloyd pretend he is a mannequin; control a crowd of customers (especially one indecisive customer that anyone who has ever worked in retail can relate to), or squeeze himself into a coat hanging on a rack! Still, the film is mostly iconic for the Lloyd set piece that none of his contemporaries (Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin) have ever attempted. Rumors have surfaced that Lloyd had the assistance of his human fly to scale the De Vore skyscraper. There are probably many trick shots here to emphasize scale or distortion thereof, but you almost always see the street of onlookers below so you have to believe (in a world where CGI and computers were not invented yet) that Lloyd is really putting his life on the line. No matter how he did it, he accomplished it with tactless skill. Whether it is a mouse running up his pant leg or seeing him dangling from a huge clock (the most iconic image and central to the film's theme) or a host of pigeons pecking him, the sequence is easily the most thrilling, hair-raising, goose-pimpling footage ever recorded in film history. Most of it seems real and death-defying enough  to make your skin crawl, your nerves jangle and your hands clammy (back in the day, it was rumored that some filmgoers fainted watching this sequence). Lloyd successfully recaptured the magic of this sequence in 1930's "Feet First" but it is this film that really packs on the thrills and chills. 

"Safety Last" is all about ambition for its hero to literally climb his way to the top and make his fiancee happy for him. Antiquated notions aside, the film is superior Lloyd entertainment with an emphasis on physical stunts that will astound everyone. He created a world of wonder and an iconic image of the hapless hero with trademark horn-rimmed glasses and we can be happy that it is forever captured on celluloid. 

Blood, Payroll and Bullets

NIGHT PASSAGE (1957)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Sometimes an old-fashioned western shot in Technirama (one of the first films to use this process) with James Stewart as capable of playing the accordion as he is firing a weapon is all one needs on a relaxing Saturday afternoon. You could do worse but there is something rather wonderful about James Neilson's "Night Passage" even though the movie is hardly one of the hallmarks of the Western genre. It is not just the richness of the Colorado vistas and sharpness of the widescreen format that make it often visually stunning. It is the performances, the gestures, the body language - James Stewart and Audie Murphy round out the cast and give the film an added measure of depth that is otherwise missing in the script.

As westerns go, there is only a wisp of a plot. Stewart is Grant McLaine, a skilled accordion player who is hired by his ex-railroad boss to hand deliver the railroad payroll to the workers. The trick is to deliver it without it getting in the hands of a few choice villainous thieves, one of them being the black-clad Utica Kid (Audie Murphy) who appears to be the kindest of the lot (plot twists allow him to be kinder). Nobody will suspect Grant has the payroll, nobody except for the Utica Kid. Of course, easier said than done as there are a couple of gunfights, a few brawls inside saloons and trains before lassoing the bad guys who try to harm the kid from "Shane" (Brandon deWilde), a thrilling shootout at an abandoned mine, you get the idea.

"Night Passage" is all about the exquisitely pretty pictures and this one (original director Anthony Mann dropped out and had a tiff with Stewart) is about as picaresque as you can imagine. But it is also about attitude and behavior - Stewart has a quick-as-a-trigger moment where he exchanges smiles with his ex-boss (Jay C. Flippen) after an awkward meeting. Also look at Stewart's scene with Charlotte (Dianne Foster) where they drink coffee together - there is an intimacy that is verbally unspoken. And we know Audie Murphy's Utica Kid intends to let Stewart get out of this ordeal alive. Look out for a sprightly turn by Olive Carey as Miss Vittles who suggests to Stewart that during the cold months, he will either need a woman or a good coat! For older film fans, let us not forget the amazing Jack Elam (when was he not amazing?) in a role he apparently hated playing. I wonder what he thought of his role in "The Creature From Black Lake" but I digress.

"Night Passage" is not a sumptuous John Ford type western, nor it is as complex as anything Anthony Mann might have made. Still, it is spirited fun and has a few minor surprises that elevate the material a little.