Five Favorite films from the Fabulous Fifties!

The 1950s was a fertile decade in Hollywood--despite the blacklist and anti-Communist hysteria--with pictures made to wow audiences to lure them away from their TV sets and back into cinemas. Some movies seemed to underscore the dominant image of a cohesive American family, while others exposed the deep troubles beneath. Societal troubles were often thematic in the best French and Italian films of the decade as well.

In honor of National Classic Movie Day, I'm delighted to share five 1950s films I recommend be on the watchlist of any film fan. I've decided to include one film from each of five genres: Western, the musical, film noir, melodrama, and suspense. Check out all the posts compiled by Rick at the Classic Film & TV Cafe, and create your own personal 1950s watch list!

Western: 3:10 to Yuma (D. Delmer Daves, 1957)
Here's a gripping character-driven Western playing out a tense drama between two flawed men: Dan Evans (Van Heflin) and Ben Wade (Glenn Ford); the latter is a charming outlaw on the run from a stagecoach hold-up and murder who gets caught and is given to Dan to escort him to the titular train to Yuma (site of the state prison) over a few hours. It's not a particularly realistic or overly violent Western (those would become more the fashion in the 1960s). And it's not meant to be. Instead it's a piece of visual and storytelling art that imbues every stylized scene with tension. The high-contrast black and white cinematography by Charles Lawton Jr. is stunning. As the plot revolves around a drought in Arizona, you'll want to have a tall glass of water nearby as you watch, as the dry harsh beauty of the landscape is almost overwhelming.

I love that the characters (at least the main male ones) are three dimensional and underplayed. Glenn Ford apparently was cast originally as Dan Evans, but requested to take on the role of the villain here, and what a great choice. The economy of the script forces all the actors to do much with face and body to convey the struggles of will they face during the running time. The ending is so much more cathartic and satisfying as a result.

I love the composition of this shot.

This film also has that special something, which for me is the score. The song '3:10 to Yuma' is sung by Frankie Laine over the title credits, and the haunting theme repeats during the film in various arrangements--my favorite is the guitar, flute and violin trio.

If you've seen the 2007 remake with Christian Bale and Russell Crowe, expect a similar story, but resist the comparisons. The later film is a much more realistic Western and the vibe is different. Watch the original for a compelling cinema experience on its own.

Noir: Angel Face (D. Otto Preminger, 1953)

Robert Mitchum as Frank Jessup in Angel Face

It's a noir and it stars Robert Mitchum. Sold yet? He's the chump taken in by Jean Simmons' rich spoiled girl Diane Tremayne, who ratches up the concept of the 'femme fatale' several orders of magnitude. Her face is angelic but her soul is anything but. ('Kathy' in Out of the Past could take lessons in evil from Diane.) A dominant theme here is that all is not well in the great American family of the 1950s.

Diane turns on the charm to lure Frank Jessup (Mitchum), an ambulance driver, to ditch his earnest girlfriend (Mona Freeman) for her, and the problems (and body count) begin to mount.  It's a terrific thriller, as all along we think that Mitchum is somehow going to escape her clutches, but he keeps getting drawn back in. Mitchum is mesmerizing as usual, and Jean Simmons, the talented English actress who was still early in her career with roles such as Ophelia under her belt, commits fully to her psychopathic character. Herbert Marshall, a favorite of mine, is delightful as her deluded, indulgent father. By the end of this part psycho-thriller, part courtroom drama, you may never want to get into a convertible again.

Jean Simmons surveying the scene of the future crime(s).

Cary Grant being driven along the Riviera by
Grace Kelly

Suspense: To Catch a Thief (D. Alfred Hitchcock, 1955).
I'll admit that I watched this one for the first time ever last month. It's not the most acclaimed Hitchcock, and having been left cold by some of Grace Kelly's other performances, I had put off watching it. But it was free on Amazon Prime, and I decided to give it a whirl. And I loved it. It's not your typical Hitchcock film in that it's not scary in the slightest, and any minor suspenseful scenes hardly quicken the pulse. But it's a romp and a romantic fantasy that sweeps you away.

In case the color wasn't bright enough, a key
scene takes place in a flower market.

Former jewel thief/cat burglar John Robie (Cary Grant) has gone straight and is enjoying life in Southern France; due to a rash of thefts, he's pressured into cooperating with the local authorities to set a trap for the yet unknown serial burglar. Along the way he must work with visiting wealthy American widow Jessie Stevens (Jessie Royce Landis) and her beautiful but aloof daughter Frances (Kelly). The action hops along Hitchcock style with literal and figurative twists and turns until the puzzles are solved.

Arguably the best thing about the film was its location setting - the gorgeous coast of Southern France, in complete bloom with flowers everywhere. I don't think there is another film that can come close to being as colorful. And Grace Kelly seems to be at home in the locale--perhaps that is why I enjoy her so much here. (As everyone knows, she was soon to take up residence as the new Princess of Monaco the year after this film was released.). Just look at some more fabulous images:

Musical: Singin' in the Rain (D. Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly, 1953)

I was hoping to find a lesser-known musical to highlight here. But because I'm not a huge fan of musicals, even though I've enjoyed many during this decade, none did I enjoy nearly as much as this one. There's a reason that it tops the American Film Institute's best musical film of all time. So if you haven't seen it yet, what are you waiting for? With Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O'Connor, and Jean Hagan, it's colorful, rollicking, hysterically funny...and those songs! The story revolves around a silent film star (Kelly) who must find a way to succeed during the conversion to sound films. Hollywood is thoroughly enjoying spoofing itself here while celebrating the wonder of a good movie.

Michel Hazanavicius's 2011 Oscar winner The Artist owes much in plot and characterization to this film. Yet I hope that no one ever attempts to remake this fabulous Hollywood love letter to the best of itself. Check out one of my favorite musical numbers "Good Mornin" with all three stars:

Melodrama: The Earrings of Madame De... (D. Max Ophuls,1953)
It's a French film by acclaimed director Max Ophuls, and like many French films of the era, it's filled with ambiguity in character and motivation, but it's so tightly drawn and elegant. I had the opportunity to see this on the big screen at the Harvard Film Archive last year and I've not been able to get it out of my mind since. The lead character, whose full name is never revealed, is portrayed by stunning Danielle Darrieux. She's partially content with her Parisian life at the end of the 19th century with wealthy husband Charles Boyer, but is rather bored and is seeking other company. When Boyer gifts her an exquisite pair of diamond earrings, they become a pawn multiple times in a series of deceits aimed to help conceal her infidelities.

Critic Roger Ebert wrote in the Chicago Sun-Times that the film is “one of the most mannered and contrived love movies ever filmed. It glitters and dazzles, and beneath the artifice it creates a heart, and breaks it.” Perhaps it's the 'manneredness' of the film that makes it such a pleasure for me. The camera is almost like a character the way it glides around the others in a film - as a viewer it's like being in a waltz with everyone on screen, even if the music grows continually darker and is played in a minor key.

I also particularly enjoyed Vittorio de Sica, the famed director who was also an actor, and just a year removed from his successful and acclaimed Bicycle Thieves, he is so charismatic here as one of Madame's lovers. 

Vittorio de Sica and Danielle Darrieux

So break out a bottle of Burgundy, dip into some fois gras, and treat yourself to the best of 1950's French filmmaking. And while you're indulging visit the Classic Film & TV Cafe for more great Fifties films.

Lana Turner--femme fatale (?) in JOHNNY EAGER (1942)

In this noir, beautiful blond Lana Turner completely bewitches her handsome co-star and sets in motion a series of decisions that ultimately lead to his demise. No, it's not The Postman Always Rings Twice. In that film, she takes her place among the most recognized femmes fatale, including Jane Greer in Out of the Past, Ava Gardner in The Killers, Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity. Here, we're discussing what was perhaps for Turner a warm-up for that one--Johnny Eager (1942), in which it's Robert Taylor who falls prey to her charms. 

This post is my contribution to the Classic Movie Blog Association's Spring Blogathon about femmes and hommes fatale in film noir. Click the image to see all the terrific posts over the past few days.

"The town's full of women and I have to pick the most dangerous one in town." 

-- Robert Taylor as Johnny Eager.

So I'll be clear up front: in Johnny Eager, Lana Turner's character is not a true femme fatale. Yet, with the seductive way she goes about her business for the first half of the film we really not sure of her motives; that and the deadly plot spiral in the final act, make her part a juicy one to dissect. (Warning: spoilers below.)

Lana Turner and director Mervyn LeRoy
on the set of Johnny Eager

According to Robert Osborne, the beloved late host of Turner Classic Movies, this film, from a short story and screenplay by James Edward Grant, was a departure for MGM, the 'cadillac studio' that rarely made movies about the criminal element. They had a star in Robert Taylor, but decided that in order for his films to attract male fans, they needed to rough up his image and cast him as a gangster! (Just a year earlier 20th Century Fox successfully employed that strategy with Tyrone Power in the similarly named Johnny Apollo.) Twenty-year-old rising star Turner was cast opposite Taylor and was seen by MGM as their female sex symbol since Jean Harlow. While this minor noir is not as well known today, Johnny Eager made over $1 million in profit when it was released.

Robert Taylor in a publicity
photo from the 1930s

Turner was only four years removed from her first significant role, in They Won't Forget (1937), where her discovery by director Mervyn LeRoy was rewarded when he showcased her enticing blend of sexiness and innocence, and she was dubbed 'the sweater girl'. The film was aptly named, as audiences did not forget Turner, who was in a steep rise to stardom. Versatile LeRoy had a hit with the gangster classic Little Caesar (1931), and success with Turner in the earlier film--her comfort level with him made him a good fit for Johnny Eager. To promote the film MGM created an evocative shorthand for their star pairing of Taylor and Turner -- TNT--and indeed sparks flew between them both on and off the set. (For a detailed description of their pairing in this film, see my fellow CMBA blogger Aurora's post here.)

While Turner heats up the screen in her scenes, the film spends more time with the title character. Taylor is serviceable in his role as the titular big city boss and racketeer, as ruthless and hard-hearted as he is handsome. He's recently out of jail on parole and while appearing to go straight, finds ways to keep his crime organization active and has even greater ambitions to profit from a dog racing track operation. Getting in his way is the district attorney John Benson Farrell (Edward Arnold), who is one of a few not taken in by Taylor's cover as a suave mustachioed cab driver(!) Also serving as minor nuisances are his girlfriend Garnet (Patricia Dane) and his alcoholic right-hand man, Jeff Hartnett (Van Heflin in his first and only Oscar-winning role).

Things get significantly more complicated when Lisbeth Bard (Turner) turns up. We first see her early in the film when she's at court at the same time that Taylor is meeting his parole officer Verne (Henry O'Neill), and she takes note of the handsome stranger. Though the aforementioned officer refers to her and her friend (Diana Lewis) as 'sociology students', Turner projects a more mature and glamorous persona. And her look after seeing Taylor signals to us she has more than studies on her mind. She questions Verne about Johnny, and her comment "he looks to have more ambition than just driving a cab" makes us wonder if the criminal in him is enticing to her. In fact, the more she hears about his past, the more interested she looks. In this first scene, she seems like a good candidate for femme fatale, the concept that is neatly summed up by Foster Hirsch in Film Noir: The Dark Side of the Screen: these women are "malevolent temptresses, their power confined almost entirely to a sexual realm, their strength achieved only at the expense of men."

Lisbeth Bard contemplating Johnny's criminal record

Lisbeth's pursuit of Johnny begins in earnest when she shows up to his 'home' along with his parole officer with 'field work' as her rationale. Their mutual attraction is evident...and the camera is also smitten.

Lisbeth and Johnny check each other out

Once Lisbeth Bard's young beau turns up at a party, we think she may be an innocent student after all, infatuated with Johnny's good looks and potentially dangerous persona. But then she mysteriously appears in the office of a restaurant manager whom Johnny starts to shake down before noticing her presence. She's unfazed, and begins to come on strong, dropping any pretense of naivete: "You don't want me talking about this (incident) to Mr. Verne--he might think you've been lying to him." She then moves in on him, strokes his suit jacket lapels, and with a hardened jaw says "Don't lie to me Mr. Eager--I have no intention of reporting you." When she gets in his car, she suggestively says to him, "No, I don't want you to take me home", and their first clinch follows. When eventually they do arrive at her home, Johnny is unpleasantly surprised to meet her stepfather - the D.A. John Benson Farrell (Arnold).

Lisbeth, the 'killer'

A short time later, Eager is attempting to make room in his life for Lisbeth--he promptly dismisses his girlfriend while openly defying the two-faced Farrell's threats and bribes to stay away from his daughter. But, lest we think that Lisbeth, in femme fatale fashion, will break Johnny's heart to her own ends, almost the exact opposite happens. Johnny sees an opportunity to use Lisbeth for profit. He sets up a staged scene (which isn't revealed as being staged until after it's complete) where he goads Lisbeth into shooting his underling Julio (Paul Stewart) after he appears to threaten Johnny's life. We later learn his goal is to blackmail Farrell into agreeing to permit his dog racing track. Horrified by believing she killed Julio, Lisbeth promptly retreats into a catatonic, pitiful state for several days. We understand now that she is a victim like most other humans Johnny's life touches.

For the time being, Johnny goes back to his usual mob boss shenanigans, getting what he wants from Farrell and outsmarting most everyone else he meets. After a few days he's convinced to visit the distraught Lisbeth, only after prompting by her ex-beau, and shows some compassion at her condition. When she proves herself willing to sacrifice her freedom for him, he professes his love for her and admits he framed her. His subsequent unselfish and risky decisions then lead to his demise, and the picture ends with him dying in the street in the arms of his friend Hartnett.

Johnny's final confrontation looks as noir as they come

Lisbeth breaks down as Johnny confesses his love

So, if Lisbeth is not a femme fatale, what is she, really? Lana Turner is too glamorous to convince us she is a naive student. (Ironically, when this film was released, the 'femme fatale' wasn't yet a thing, at least in the noir genre, since it was so new. Audiences would not have come into the film with the same expectations as modern audiences looking back.) We wonder what her history with other men has been, despite the desire of her father. It may be her father is over-protective, influencing her to follow danger, take great risks even and get herself in over her head. Turner is perfect at letting slip that vulnerability that just might be part of her irresistibility to Johnny. Her breakdown near the end is truly heartbreaking.

When Lisbeth proves to be as self-sacrificing as Johnny is selfish, promising to turn herself into the police only after Johnny's no longer in danger as an accessory, she breaks the wall of ice around Johnny's heart. When she redeems him, his doing the right thing causes his death - so, literally, she is as dangerous to him had she been a nefarious character. If Lisbeth's not a true femme fatale, for Johnny, the end result is the same.

Sources consulted:
Lana: the Lady, the Legend, the Truth, by Lana Turner, E.P. Dutton, Inc, 1982.
Mervyn LeRoy: Take One, by Mervyn LeRoy and Dick Kleiner, Hawthorn Books, Inc, 1974
Lana: The Memories, the Myths, the Movies, by Cheryl Crane (Turner's daughter) with Cindy De La Hoz, Running Press, 2008.
The Dark Side of the Screen: Film Noir, by Foster Hirsch, A.S. Barnes & Company, Inc., 1981.

Brian Donlevy, the "Good Bad Guy" - Book Review & Author Interview

Who doesn't love a charismatic villain? The best villains are those who not only steal all the scenes they are in, but make you root for them by exposing their humanity, vulnerability, or sheer likeability.  In one of my favorite examples, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. had a tremendous turn as devilish, dashing  'Rupert of Hentzau' in The Prisoner of Zenda (1937).  (By the way, this movie is terrific beyond just Fairbanks, Jr., so check it out if you haven't already seen it.)

Brian Donlevy, publicity photo from
Destry Rides Again.  (IMDb.com)

I'd seen character actor Brian Donlevy (1901-1972) in a few films from the 1940s before he really registered on my radar, but that all changed when I watched Destry Rides Again (1939).  I wrote about this western, starring James Stewart, here, and had commented on how Donlevy really killed it.  It turns out that playing deeply flawed characters, protagonists or antagonists, was Donlevy's specialty.  Some were straight out villains that were unlikeable but still charismatic (Beau Geste, 1939), villains that were just unlikeable and not particularly charismatic (The Virginian, 1946), misguided tough guys with hearts of gold (McGinty in The Great McGinty, 1940), or corrupt politicians with a sense of humor (The Glass Key, 1942).  But his career also saw him assaying strong upstanding guys--two that I enjoyed were: in Two Years Before the Mast (1946), he supported leading man Alan Ladd as the real-life writer who ultimately exposes the poor working conditions aboard sailing vessels in early 19th century; in Kiss of Death (1947) he plays the straight and sympathetic D.A. to Victor Mature's reforming ex-con.  If nothing else, his range was wide and he was reliable, and sometimes breathtaking. 

Late last year, his first full-length biography, titled Brian Donlevy, the Good Bad Guy, was published by McFarland Books, and does justice to this often overlooked actor's life and career.  The author, Derek Sculthorpe, who also wrote the recent bio of Van Heflin that I reviewed here, answered some of my questions about his work, and I intersperse them throughout this post.

Sculthorpe's objective in writing about Donlevy was to "provide a comprehensive and human assessment of his life and career."  As with the Heflin book, it's thoroughly researched.  The primary focus is on the detailed output of Donlevy's career, and because Sculthorpe watched every available film and television show, he is able to draw detailed insights about his work.  It really is a great reference for those interested in film history, as Sculthorpe provides the background of each film's production, a short description, an analysis, and citations from press of the time.

Despite this heavy film focus, Sculthorpe intersperses chronologically those specifics of Donlevy's personal life that he uncovered during his research so that we get a sense of who this man was.  For example, with his study of military records, Sculthorpe was able to debunk some of the more colorful stories of Donlevy's service before and during WWI which were fed to the press during Donlevy's early acting career, and which are still part of the lead bio on IMDb.com.

Donlevy with starlet Rita Cansino, soon to become
mega-star Rita Hayworth, in Human Cargo (1936)
(Photo from: Brian Donlevy, the Good Bad Guy,
McFarland Books 2016)

Q.  How long did it take you to research and write your book on Donlevy?

Sculthorpe:  "It took several months to research. It’s an incredibly time-consuming process. The thing is that once you start writing you begin to find more things. Obviously by the end you have so much.  It took about eight months to write. This is so much less than it took for Heflin of course which was about two years or so in total. I learnt so much writing the first one which meant that I knew what to expect this time."

We learn that, in many ways, Donlevy had a career typical of many Hollywood actors of his generation, working until just a couple of years before he succumbed to cancer in 1972 at the age of 71.  While he had no real formal acting training, he scored successes in film, the Broadway stage, radio and television. He had a private life that wasn't without its bumps and bruises, and battled alcoholism.  He struggled with being typecast as a 'heavy', but often made the best of those roles, and relished those in which he played against type. 

Q.  What film of Donlevy's that is less well-known would you recommend people watch because of Donlevy's presence?

Brian Donlevy and Susan Hayward on
the set of Canyon Passage (IMDb.com)

Sculthorpe:  "It’s hard to name just one. I would say Canyon Passage, which was an interesting role. Among the less well-known ones I especially liked 36 Hours to Kill (1936) in which he showed a lightness of touch; he was romantic and jaunty. The Remarkable Andrew (1942) (where Donlevy played the ghost of President Andrew Jackson) because he worked well with (William) Holden and it was something different.  Incidentally, in one of his early shorts, Ireno (1932) he had a tiny uncredited role as a drunk which was well-observed I thought. It is very short but is now available on YouTube:"

Donlevy first gained star status with his Oscar-nominated turn as the villain in Beau Geste.  But his career reached its apex in the 1940s, where he was under contract with Paramount, and where he made most of the hit films I cited as those catching my attention.  Later, as his career ebbed, he worked for various other studios, such as Republic, and ventured into television.  His hit show Dangerous Assignment in the 1950s was based on the radio show of the same name, that Donlevy himself conceived and wrote.  In it, he's a debonair but tough U.S. special agent dealing with all kinds of cases of intrigue and adventure.  Interestingly to me, he married the widow of Bela Lugosi late in life, after having divorced two wives, and Sculthorpe was in touch with stepson Bela Lugosi Jr., for insights about Donlevy.  One gets the sense that Donlevy had a restless energy all his life that propelled him to success, but also perhaps never allowed him contentment with his choices.  He dabbled in writing poetry and fiction, and investments in mining concerns.

Q.  In reading the book, it struck me that Donlevy’s life and career had parallels to those of Van Heflin, the subject of your earlier book (e.g. talents underused, character actor vs. lead, challenges in personal life such as difficult relationships with children, drinking, etc).  Any thoughts about what made them similar, and perhaps more importantly, what was different about the two? 

Donlevy with Gloria Stuart in 36 Hours to Kill (IMDb.com)

Sculthorpe: "I think Heflin was a far more intense actor; for him acting was a real craft and he put a great deal into his roles, especially on stage. Those parts were physically and emotionally draining. For Donlevy, it was more of a job I would say, a means to an end. Both were a similar generation, both loners and, as you say, had a drinking problem. As to drinking, it is a common theme, and others such as William Holden and Robert Ryan were comparable. I think that generation were encouraged to keep emotion inside. Conversely, I think this made them better actors. Both sought adventure in their early lives, but the crucial difference was that Donlevy wanted to be part of something (the army), whereas Heflin just wanted to escape and do his own thing. Overall, I would say Heflin turned down a great many more roles than Donlevy. Their attitude to television was revealing; Heflin saw it as diminishing the art of acting in some way. Donlevy was practical and enjoyed one of his greatest successes with a TV series."

Q.  If you could play casting director…is there any film role that Donlevy would have been absolutely the best choice for (past or present) that may have showcased his talents better?  

Sculthorpe:  "I would like to have seen him as Frank Elgin in The Country Girl, (1954) which he only ever did on stage in his “straw hat” days. I know Bing Crosby did it well but Donlevy was said to be unexpectedly good in that role so that would have been interesting."

Q. What is your next project?

Sculthorpe:  "My next book is about Claire Trevor, it should be out at the beginning of next year." 
The subjects I have chosen have not been the most obvious ones, or the easiest to write about. I just feel that the big stars - Marilyn, Cary Grant, Bette Davis et al. have been written about a lot. What more can be said about them? A vast number never made it to their level, but nonetheless have a story to tell. It is heartening to see that there have recently been books about Lloyd Nolan, Richard Jaeckel, Dan Duryea and other less feted people for instance."

Sculthorpe added that he would be interested to know which subjects my blog readers would like to see books written about -- feel free to add your thoughts in the comments section.

This post is my entry in the 2017 "What a Character" Blogathon, hosted by Aurora of Once Upon a Screen, Kellee of Outspoken & Freckled, and Paula of Paula's Cinema Club.  Check out all the posts to satisfy your curiosity about actors you've probably seen but may not know their names.  All these actors deserve to have their stories told for what they gave us on the silver screen. 

'Gunman's Walk' - An Underseen 1950s Western

Fans of tall, blond and dreamy 1950s movie star and singer Tab Hunter will want to approach Gunman's Walk (1958) with caution.  Here, Hunter is tall, gorgeous...and completely despicable.  The blackness of his character at times stretches credulity, but I'll bet you won't regret the experience of this underappreciated, thematically layered, and well-crafted western.

[This post is my contribution to the 'Underseen and Underrated' CMBA Spring Blogathon.  Go here to see all the posts this week, and take the road less traveled, film-wise.]

This western was made by Columbia Pictures and directed by Phil Karlson, better known for directing noirs such as 99 River St. and Kansas City Confidential, than westerns.  The story by Ric Hardman was converted to the screen by Frank Nugent, who over the prior decade had penned many scripts for John Ford, including The Searchers, The Quiet Man, and Mister Roberts.  Getting top billing in the cast was veteran Van Heflin, followed by Hunter, and then James Darren and Kathryn Grant, at the time recently wed to Bing Crosby. Character actors Will Wright and Edward Platt, had small but memorable roles. 

The story revolves around a rancher, Lee Hackett (Heflin), who raised his two sons, Ed (Hunter) and Davy (Darren), to revere him, and instilled in them a sense of inferiority that manifested very differently in each son.  Ed is hotheaded, always wanting to equal or best his father, while Davy is introverted and generally compliant.  Lee, who the sons call by his first name, sees himself more in rambunctious Ed, and has trouble communicating with Davy.  However, Ed has developed a pathological streak, and Lee indulges him and protects him, which only frustrates the competitive son more.  Eventually Ed causes the death of a half-Indian ranch hand, the brother of a young woman (Grant) recently courted by Davy, by running him off a cliff while on horseback.  The only witnesses are two Indians who testify in court that the death was no accident.  However, a stranger appears and testifies the opposite, and Ed is let free.  This stranger, who was nowhere near the incident, expects payment from Hackett by in the form of ten of his best horses, including a white mare prized by Ed and Davy.  Lee relents, feeling he has no choice if he wants to protect Ed, but when word of this gets to Ed, a series of deadly confrontations ensue, leading up to the dramatic climax. 

James Darren (left) as Davy Hackett and Tab Hunter as Ed Hackett

Why Watch?

In 97 minutes, the film cleverly explores three themes in some depth. Credit screenwriter Nugent, whose script is economic and incredibly believable throughout.  The first, and most obvious theme, is family dysfunction, with an emphasis on the destructive side of masculinity. In the 1950s Hollywood 'discovered' the teenage/young adult market, and a great number of films explored topics of the generation gap, rebellious youth and clueless adults.  Think Rebel Without a Cause and Blackboard Jungle, to start. Gunman's Walk was very much of its time in this regard. 

The central male characters, father and two sons, compellingly play out the family drama.  Lee (Heflin) is essentially a good man, with a strong reputation in the community, but with his alternating competitive and indulgent treatment of his sons, has created a situation even he can't control. As Ed, Hunter himself was apparently very happy to get different sort of role and relished it. Early in the film we learn he's reckless with a gun--in a challenge to his father, he suggests each shoot a tin can that the other is holding in his hand, and while Lee decides the can needs to be positioned on a fence instead, and has just set it down, Ed shoots with no warning.  It goes downhill from there.  Ed reveals himself to be incredibly racist, boorish, and murderous. I had a mixed reaction to Hunter's performance. He did a great job of making me despise him, pulling out all the stops; yet he went so far on the black side that he lacked a nuance that would allow us to see some positive elements of his character. In a telling piece of film-making, a frustrated Ed throws a shot glass at his father's reflection in a barroom mirror. 

Davy Hackett is Ed's opposite - he's calm, sensitive, and respectful of his father, despite having reservations about the violence his father tacitly endorses. As a result, Lee can't relate to him and the son feels somewhat rejected.  Later in the movie Davy begins to stand up for himself--at one point during a confrontation with his father he says "Hey Lee, whadda ya know?  Without your boots on you aren't even as tall as I am!"  James Darren's portrayal of Davy is serviceable, if not remarkable.  Ultimately, the film leaves it to the audience to determine what was the cause of the family's downfall -- Lee's poor parenting, Ed's despicable character, circumstances, or all of the above.

The second theme is racism, as it relates to the treatment of Native Americans. Here there isn't a doubt which side the film is on...while the white settler and local Sioux have come to an uneasy arrangement, the Indians are portrayed as victims of white supremacy. Viewers be cautioned, as there are constant slurs thrown at and about the Indians, 'half-breed' being the most common. As a modern viewer this grated on me, but I suspect this unfiltered dialogue was realistic of the time and place.  The Indian characters were never fully fleshed out, and the half-Sioux protagonist 'Clee' (Grant) didn't do much more than serve as a victim and love interest.  Yet the film clearly endorsed the legitimacy of Davy and Clee's relationship ... in an overt way that was in line with the trend of films of that era beginning to shed less than a favorable light on the country's racist past. 

The third theme is the evolution of the West and the role of law and order, moving from the early settlers who maintained open ranges for livestock and used guns to defend their territory, to the next generation of settlers establishing towns with laws and those elected to enforce them.  The film title draws attention to the danger of two men carrying guns, about to confront each other on the streets of the town, and makes it clear that guns are not welcome in the local town; much of the conflict stems from Lee's unwillingness to accept that his way of life, represented by his desire to always openly carry a gun, even when that is no longer accepted among the majority.  Lee himself is still well respected, and he's allowed a lot of latitude as a result, but even he respects the 'appropriate' use of a gun, which Ed clearly oversteps again and again. The gun is can be seen here as a symbol of masculinity gone amok, as Davy rejects gun violence, Ed relishes it, and Lee is somewhere in between.

For me the greatest pleasure of the film is Heflin's performance as Lee.  Those familiar with my blog know I'm a big Heflin fan, and this film is one I'd point to for evidence. He becomes Lee Hackett, using a physical swagger and gravelly voice to make him a presence to be reckoned with, and he's not afraid to be unlikeable, through his racism, or goading of his sons. Yet, he maintains a degree of our sympathy because we can see Lee engaging in a human struggle to maintain his status, while his society, and his family, are falling apart around him.  He lets down his guard enough that we can see the humanity underneath the hard exterior. 

Tab Hunter, who is still with us, in his memoir Tab Hunter Confidential had great praise for Heflin: "To me, Van was the ultimate actor.  He completely disappeared into character, and everything he did was completely believable."  He also commented about how Heflin was committed to extra rehearsals at Hunter's request, to help him work out details of his scenes.  Heflin and Hunter were together on screen two other times, in Battle Cry (1955) and They Came to Cordura (1959), the latter which I reviewed here.

Director Karlson deserves credit for his clever stagings of the drama, as does cinematographer Charles Lawton, Jr., who captures the beauty of the Tucson, Arizona location, and the claustrophobia of the many indoor scenes.   It's a notably darker film than most of John Ford's, perhaps more 'noir-like', but at the time did significantly well at the box office, perhaps as result of Hunter's star power.  Ultimately, though, this film is little remembered, possibly crowded out by the western classics from Ford, Howard Hawks, made with bigger stars like John Wayne, James Stewart and the like.  Those interested in seeing the film today can find it on demand with a subscription to STARZ, which owns licenses for Columbia films through their relationship with Sony Pictures, or with an internationally produced DVD or Blu-Ray.  The trailer is linked below.

Classic Film Obsessions 2016-- The One Year Blog Anniversary Post

First, excuse me while I congratulate myself 😊. I started this blog exactly one year ago, and 12 months and 44 posts later, it's still going! I had a lot of fun with it, and extended my connections into the fantastic community of classic cinephiles and bloggers, which was my hope, as stated in my very first post.  I was thrilled and humbled to join the Classic Movie Blog Association, enhance my relationship with Turner Classic Movies through participation in the annual film festival, and membership in the Backlot fan club, and have made many friendships in the community, connecting in person as well as online.

I'm establishing a tradition of posting a look back at my 'obsessions' over the course of the last year, and sharing my blog resolutions for the next year.  In 2016 I watched 162 new-to-me movies, slightly under my 2015 total of 178.

Classic Film Obsessions for 2016

Heflin won his only Oscar for his
supporting role in the gangster drama
  Johnny Eager (1941).  Here he shows
off his unique way of holding a cigarette

Van Heflin
Singling out Heflin likely doesn't surprise those who a) know me in person or on social media, or b) who've looked at my blog label list and see his name at the top in large font.  My obsession with the Oklahoma-born Heflin grew from my 2015 obsession with Alan Ladd, as they starred together in the classic Western Shane.  I wrote about Shane for my first ever blogathon, and while I didn't focus on Heflin there, over the course of the year I watched more and more of his films until my love was in full bloom.  I marveled at his versatility and talent, admired his intellectual approach to his craft, and found him a magnetic screen presence.  Also this year, his first-ever biography was published, which I reviewed here, and I featured and/or reviewed five of his films.   I did however, watch a great deal more from his filmography that I didn't write about, and of those, I'll recommend a few, in chronological order:  A Woman Rebels (1936)--this one's an interesting melodrama and vehicle mainly for Katharine Hepburn, who was a friend of Heflin's and helped get him his role.  He really isn't entirely recognizable here and doesn't register strongly, but it's his first role, and one of only six he made in the 1930s.  In the 1940s there are so many good ones, including Johnny Eager, but for a change of pace he is a riot in the comedies Presenting Lily Mars (1943) with Judy Garland, and The Feminine Touch (1941), with Kay Francis, Don Ameche, and Rosalind Russell, proving that this "craggy-faced" Western and Noir star could hold his own in light comedy.  In the 1950s, his best performance for my money may be in The Prowler (1951), where he is a seriously flawed protagonist.  I loved him also in the Rod Serling drama Patterns (1956), and for an all-around fantastic film, check out 3:10 to Yuma (1957), in which Heflin stars alongside a terrific Glenn Ford in this psychological Western.  There are many in his filmography still waiting for me, assuming this obsession continues in 2017.

I was delighted to listen to a recent interview with his daughter, actress Vana O'Brien here, in which, among other things, she commented that her father hated 'over-acting.'  For the most part I found his performances appropriately understated, which adds to the enjoyment of his work.  I hope that someday soon Ms. O'Brien will come to a film festival (TCM??) to share her remembrances of her father and his life and career -- she would receive a tremendous and appreciative reception.

The Western, and John Ford
Following the fun that was the 2015 'Summer of Darkness' dedicated to film noir, I dedicated myself to learning more about the Western in the summer of 2016 -- a vast film genre to be sure, but one most certainly under-represented in my film log. I listened to a recorded online course on the subject, and watched a number of films spanning eight decades, and dipped into several books on the subject. Check my posts from June-August for my thoughts on several of these films.

The genesis of this idea flowed from the delight I took in my first viewing of John Ford's She Wore A Yellow Ribbon (1949) at the 2016 Turner Classic Festival with a crowd of appreciative fans.   I grew to better know and appreciate much of Ford's work this past year, and began to internalize his style and approach.  What a phenomenal treasure he left us in the 140 films he directed.  Additionally, through Ford, I was introduced to the father and son acting duo of Harry Carey and Harry Carey Jr., who devoted their lives to giving us great entertainment in this great American film tradition.  I wrote about them here.

John Wayne, Harry Carey Jr., and Pedro Armendariz
star in Ford's 3 Godfathers from 1948.

New to me this year were the classic Westerns High Noon, My Darling Clementine, Destry Rides Again, and one of the earliest Westerns ever, The Great Train Robbery (1903).  I came to appreciate the acting talent of Dean Martin by watching Howard Hawks' Rio Bravo (1959); in fact, to me, Martin is the main reason to watch this film.  Lesser-known but interesting Westerns I caught this year include The Spoilers (1942) with Marlene Dietrich, Randolph Scott, and John Wayne, and The Texan (1930), starring a young Gary Cooper, previewing how he would come to dominate the genre!

Dean Martin as the alcoholic lawman 'Dude' in Rio Bravo

Berklee Silent Film Orchestra

Prof. Sheldon Mirowitz
 Of  Film Scoring
@ Berklee School
(photo from Berklee School)

Since I'm a fan of music as well as film, attending a screening of a silent film with live musical accompaniment claims a spot in the top five of my favorite things.  When the accompaniment is a local orchestra premiering their own student-composed score, it's a treat that is absolutely unique to the Boston area.  I wrote about the unique process of the Berklee Silent Film Orchestra, a group of top students from Berklee School of Music Film Scoring Department, here.  Well, actually, the secret has gotten out and the reputation of the BSFO has taken them to the prestigious San Francisco Silent Film Festival for two years now, where they've gotten rave reviews.

This year, I saw the world premiere of their score to Variete (1925), at one of our local art houses -- The Coolidge Corner Theatre, which is the BSFO's local partner and features them regularly through their 'Sounds of Silents' rep program.  It's been announced that Kino-Lorber is producing a new DVD of this film featuring the BSFO score; I hope it's available soon!  I also made it to the Coolidge the week of Halloween for their encore performance of their original score to Phantom of the Opera, the Lon Chaney classic.  I don't know what original film score the 2017 students are working on, but I will be sure to feature it here, as I don't miss these live premieres.

The magnificent 'Theatre 1' at the Coolidge 

My 2017 Blog Resolutions
Like most humans, I don't have much luck with annual resolutions (!), but here goes, anyway:

1. Find ways to make my blog more interactive -- with quizzes, Twitter polls, or the like.
2. Continue to use the blog as a way to learn more about film history, by exploring genres, actors, and/or directors that deserve more of my attention.
3. Submit at least one post in the annual CMBA awards process. 
4. Find and comment on more of my fellow bloggers' work.  There is no lack of great writing and interesting classic film commentary out there, and we are all enriched by reading one another.

Wishing all of my readers a healthy and properous 2017!

Saturday's Heroes: A college football 'dramedy' from 1937

Saturday's Heroes is an odd little film.  It's one of those that, if not for Turner Classic Movies, zero people living today would have ever seen, instead of the 20 that have.  I am one of those 20.  It was the first film showing on star Van Heflin's birthday lineup on TCM last Wednesday and while I didn't catch it live at 6:15 AM, the handy DVR saved it for me.  While there are a number of reasons it's odd, which I'll get to, it illustrates why watching old films is so fun for me -- it's a snapshot of another time, that, while having certain things in common with today (the obsession America has with football, and college football in particular), it's so quaint in showing all that is changed -- from the uniforms, the way the game is played, the press, and simply how Hollywood chose to portray American culture of the time.

College Football is serious business.

This film was released in 1937 by RKO Studios as clearly a 'B' picture, as demonstrated by its 60 minute running time and the use of relative as-of-yet unknown, Heflin, as the star.  Directed by journeyman Edward Killy, it tells the story of how Val Webster (Heflin), the star quarterback of fictional 'Calton U.', struggles with how universities abuse their players by underpaying them to make money off the sport, and ultimately takes a stand with the help of a sympathetic sports editor (Richard Lane) of the local paper.  There is also the requisite romance, on-again-off-again with lovely Marian Marsh, conveniently the daughter of Calton's head coach.

Frank Jenks as Dubrowsky

For a film that attempts to deal seriously with a serious subject, incorporating into the narrative no less than a suicide of a character, the tone is inexplicably lightened frequently by the use of a number of running gags:  1) The football star and the sports editor repeatedly threaten to knock each other out, and sometimes do; 2) Alliterative insults -- "why you dirty double crossing double dealing descendant of a dipsomaniac!"... "you pusillanimous piece of painted poison!" 3) The character of football pal Dubrowsky, portrayed by Frank Jenks, whose eye-popping mugs for the camera and an extended sequence making deluxe banana splits would seem spliced in from another movie if there weren't these other slapstick elements; 4) Silent comic and Buster Keaton pal Al St. John appearing as a slightly 'touched' water boy with a handle bar mustache.

Heflin & Al St. John discuss the big game.

Heflin, as usual, is reliably good and while a bit older (29) than a college student he has the build of a quarterback and looks comfortable in sports attire.  Marian Marsh doesn't have much more to do than wander in and out of scenes and spar with Heflin, while uttering lines like "I hope this means you aren't going to get into another mess!", but she's an agreeable and lovely presence with a certain degree of spunk. We know she and Heflin will eventually work things out.  Because, after all, she is willing to take a back seat to his career, and adjust his equipment (!)

Heflin & Marsh

The football scenes seem to be staged amateurishly, and guys on the field rib each other about their attire (Really? Does this happen?) while the game is on the line.  Considering the small town aesthetic of the film's scenarios, the camera panning over enormous crowds of fans in the stadium is disorienting. Ultimately the plot wraps up too nicely by Webster defecting to another university, by sheer force of personality convincing their administration to treat their players more honestly, and proves the value of that by coaching their team to win one game -- against his old team.  Somehow, no one from Calton U realizes he's even there, much less the driving force behind their defeat.

Heflin and Lane in one of their episodes of fisticuffs

The film was presumably meant to be a statement against these questionable practices.  And football was a topic of controversy as early as the 1930s, if not earlier.  As Frank Nugent pointed out in his NY Times review of the film, "College football pictures hardly ever vary by so much as one esthetic milligram in either plot or intellectual weight from year to year, and another thing which binds them together with a certain timelessness is the way all of them are tinged with a rather melancholy note of cynicism and disillusionment concerning college football. This probably means that there is some truth to the rumor that commercialism is rampant in the athletic departments of our higher educational institutions."

The stadium for the big game: Calton U. vs. Weston U.

All in all, this film succeeds at the most basic purpose of the movies -- to entertain.  It had a bit of everything: classic Americana, a romance, a point of view, and low-brow comedy with a happy ending wrapped up in a tidy hour.  Heflin labored for a few years at RKO at the beginning of his movie career, but according to his biographer (Derek Sculthorpe, Van Heflin: A Life in Film), became frustrated at the parts he was assigned in mostly B pictures, and took a break from film not long after Saturday's Heroes to go back on the stage -- playing Macaulay Connor in an extended run of  'The Philadelphia Story' opposite Katharine Hepburn and Joseph Cotten.  He eventually made it back to Hollywood, getting better and better parts until his stardom was secured.  Despite her auspicious beginning in the early 1930s, by Saturday's Heroes Marian Marsh's career years were behind her, as she drifted away from acting, making only the occasional appearance.