More Black and White Classic Horror

And Yet More Classic Horror. Again.

By Kristin Battestella

Yes, I’m list crazy this October, but let me ask you this: Is there anything like a public domain scary surprise or a classic black and white thriller to fill a lonely decrepit autumn night? I think not.

A Bucket of Blood – Some of the 1959 beatnik goods in director Roger Corman’s (House of Usher, The Pit and the Pendulum) low budget satirical creepy are tough to hear thanks to uneven sound, soft dialogue, and a loud but sweet and swanky jazz score.  Yes, it’s slow to open and doesn’t look very good, but we feel for Dick Miller’s (Gremlins, Fame) outcasted Walter Paisley as he resorts to deadly lengths for his sculpting and artistic acclaim. Even if the whippersnappers of today probably don’t know what the Beatnik movement was all about or why Corman’s commentary is meant to be funny, at just over an hour, this freaky and bemusing oddity is worth a look for young horror fans or Corman aficionados.

Carnival of Souls – Sometimes black and white filmmaking seriously adds to the visuals and atmosphere of a movie- and such is the case here. Though there are some fun 1962 cars and nostalgia to start, the suddenly somber opening and eerie credits establish the creepy; and writer, director, producer and star Herk Harvey provides some very disturbing appearances whilst waxing philosophical on isolation, loneliness, claustrophobia, and spiritual debates. Spooky sheers and askew reflections make for great jumps and scares and build the paranoia and fear for Candace Hilligoss (The Curse of the Living Corpse) – which may or may not be all in her mind. Naturally, there’s something kinky afoot, too- such a wild, demented circus and merry go round feelings intimately clashing with the safe, white cathedrals! I did suspect the end, but like a supersized Twilight Zone episode, it’s still great in getting there, and damn freaky!

Dead of Night – This 1945 anthology is a little too pip pip cheerio dated to open its framing story, and the first two tales of deadly premonition and ghostly happenstance are a little short and more merely bizarre or déjà vu than scary. However, tale three chronicles an askew mirror with a suspenseful juice the likes of Tales from the Crypt.  The ghostly golfer switcharoo of plot four is played more for the laughs of Basil Radford and Naughton Wayne (The Lady Vanishes), but in such an early compilation film, I suppose some levity was needed.  Even if it is a little familiar now thanks to other ventriloquist horror, Michael Redgrave’s (Mourning Becomes Electra) final tale is very well played paranoia and twistedness.  Perhaps contemporary audiences won’t find the scary here because we’ve had so many other warped anthology shows, but this one is still dang entertaining.  No effects or sex and gore shockers needed; its all done with performance and suggestion- and the conclusion definitely leaves the audience thinking on the kicker.

Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde – Oscar winner Fredric March (The Best Years of Our Lives, The Desperate Hours) can do no wrong in this 1932 adaptation of Stevenson’s quick and spooky read.  Wow, March is so young and handsome as the gentlemanly Jekyll but also so utterly creepy looking as Hyde.  The monstrous change is even more scary thanks to the science of the villainy, the element of truth in the dual nature, and the dark half examinations of the human soul we all share.  Hyde may be the straight encapsulation of evil, but isn’t Jekyll just as bad because he has the sought to extract the vile in the first place?  Oh the tormented meat and performance here! The lovely Miriam Hopkins (Becky Sharp, The Heiress) adds a little pre-code kinky, too, and a great use of basic camera techniques and mirror tricks also adds a visual and moody parallel layer. The subtle and simplistic but smart filmmaking here seems a lost art today- but dang, that organ music is eerie, and gosh, I want those candelabras!

The Invisible Man – This chilling 1933 classic from director James Whale (Bride of Frankenstein) has all the obsessive and murderous madman science from H.G. Wells’ novel and more.  Claude Rains (Casablanca) is dynamite, along with Gloria Stuart (Titanic), Henry Travers (It’s a Wonderful Life), Una O’Connor (Witness for the Prosecution), and an equally fun supporting cast.  You have to admit, even in such a bent tale, it is amusing to see these thirties folks talking to thin air and getting hysterical over objects moving by themselves! The black and white photography looks perfectly crisp, and the silver palette helps to hide any of the special effects glitches our modern eyes may spot.  But the cutting edge for the time matte and screen and wire work graphics still look damn good, too. The approach and pursuit of the eponymous villain is contemporarily believable, and it’s all just so good and weird thanks largely to that suave talking but not quite there Rains.  Truly, a must see- and read, for that matter, too. But sigh, a remake is on the horizon!

The Wolf Man – Claude Rains is at it again in this 1941 Universal essential- along with his onscreen son Lon Chaney, Jr. (Of Mice and Men) as Larry Talbot.  So what if the then exceptional werewolf makeup and transitional transformations might not be up to snuff for today’s CGI spoiled.  Get over it.  You can’t be a werewolf fan without loving this granddaddy of lycan establishment- dated and stereotypical though it may be. All the staples needed are here in beautifully sharp black and white, with lots of fog and atmosphere capping off the monster pursuits. The agony and titular torment of the players carries the hour-plus time swiftly, and fun performances from Bela Lugosi (Dracula) and Maria Ouspenskaya (Love Affair) set off the blooming wolfsbane wonderfully.

I Married a Witch

I Married a Witch a Trickster Delight

By Kristin Battestella

While many adore the subsequent Bell Book and Candle or Bewitched, have had Peek A Boo hairstyles, or even know of Veronica Lake thanks to her sexy Oscar winning look-alike Kim Basinger in L.A. Confidential; it seems not many today appreciate the 1942 magical romp that started it all, I Married a Witch.

Burned at the Salem Witch Trials thanks to the testimony of Jonathan Wooley (Frederic March), Jennifer (Veronica Lake) curses Wooley and all his male descendents to be unlucky in love.  Centuries later when lightning strikes a tree and frees their spirits, Jennifer and her father Daniel (Cecil Kellaway) continue to interfere with politician Wallace Wooley (also March), his campaign for governor, and his impending marriage to socialite Estelle Masterson (Susan Hayward).  Jennifer plans to make Wally fall in love with her just to ruin him.  Unfortunately, when she is injured, Wally mistakenly gives her the love potion she intended for him.  Now that she’s in love with a mortal, Daniel disastrously interferes on his daughter’s behalf.  Jennifer, however, has bigger plans now: using witchcraft to save Wally’s campaign.

I’ll get the bit of the bad out of the way first, for only the dated production here hinders I Married a Witch.  The black and white looks somewhat unrestored, dark and tough to see sometimes.  The historical montage opening the film also has poor period stylings or seems quick and on the cheap.  Modern audiences might also be a little lost on some of the thirties mannerisms and dialogue, and the sound is often tough to hear.  While kids might enjoy this partial inspiration for the television series Bewitched, viewers with short attention spans might groan at early scenes with only smoke, fire, and old speaketh voiceovers. However, having said all that, the light-hearted comedy and hijinks of love story from director Rene Clair (The Flame of New Orleans, And Then There Were None) and writers Robert Pirosh (Combat!) and Marc Connelly (Captain Courageous) win with magical charm and innocent fun. 

Well then, let’s talk about that peek a boo queen herself, Veronica Lake. Although the diminutive star of Sullivan’s Travels and This Gun for Hire doesn’t actually appear for the first fifteen minutes, we like the off-screen witch Jennifer when we hear of her fun curses.  Despite her initial vengeance and maliciousness, we enjoy her vocal tricks and thus are thrilled when we finally do get so see those famous blonde tresses.  Lake may seem a one trick pretty, but her witchy ways are delightful and her comedic dialogue is right on time.  Though the pair seem visually at odds and she spends most of the time being carried by March; Lake has the sardonic match and onscreen weight to be a 290-year-old witch testing Wallys’ heart.  Jennifer’s supposed to be bad, purely a spiteful witch causing love trouble for the sake of a long ago wrong, yet she’s whimsical and adorable all the same.  Likewise, Oscar winner Frederic March (Best Years of Our Lives, Death of a Salesman, The Desperate Hours) proves he’s more than the straight, heavy, and serious dramatic leading man we so often enjoy.  Wally’s wedding day hysterics are almost side splitting- caught in a repeatedly false starting ceremony and running ragged over two women!  March would be the exceptional straight man indeed- if not for his perfect balance of witty, proper performance and humorous presence.

While Lake’s luster may have fallen over the decades, the budding and future Best Actress Susan Hayward (I Want to Live, Reap the Wild Wind) is wonderful as the snotty socialite set to marry Wally.  Any other time, we’d love to pedestal Hayward, but in I Married a Witch, the audience can’t help but appreciate her bearing the brunt of Jennifer’s tricks.  Dads Cecil Kellaway (The Postman Always Rings Twice) and Robert  Warwick’s (The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex)  J.B. Masterson are also great fun as the at odds parents who similarly enough have their daughters- and thus their own- best interests at heart.  Classic fashion and style lends a wonderful visual support, too. Not to be outdone by slim cut suits or tilted fedoras, the pre-war ladies’ costumes here are glorious.  The lengthy gowns and puffy sleeves just add an extra touch of class not often found in today’s recreations.  I Married a Witch was contemporary at the time, but now it is a wonderful period piece to us with great music, sweet looking cars, and great old houses.  Sure, some of the flying brooms and objects moving by themselves look hokey, but most of the smoke and mirror effects are simplistically good.  Thanks to a fine story and great performances, fancy effects aren’t required to suspend the belief needed for I Married a Witch.

Fans of the old school cast, classic films aficionados, or families looking for some wholesome witchy fun can certainly find a short 80 minutes for I Married a Witch.  Naturally, it is full of pre-war magical innocence rather than proper Wicca motifs, but again, the delight here wins against any datedness of the time.  And but of course, it doesn’t seem like we’re yet privy to a proper Region 1 DVD release, either.  Typical!  Hang on to your VHS, catch a TCM airing, and fall in love again with I Married a Witch. 

The Desperate Hours (1955)

The Desperate Hours A Fine, Intense, Classic Thriller

By Kristin Battestella

Not Casablanca, nor The African Queen, not even The Big Sleep or To Have and Have Not. These classics are all well and fine and good-nay exceptional. But no. My favorite Humphrey Bogart gem is the much quieter William Wyler thriller The Desperate Hours.

After escaping from prison, Glenn Griffin (Bogart), his brother Hal (Dewey Martin, Daniel Boone) and thug Kobish (Robert Middleton) lay low and hideout in the last place Deputy Sheriff Bard (Arthur Kennedy) would look: the idyllic suburban home of Dan and Eleanor Hilliard (Fredric March, Martha Scott). Hilliard must keep his daughter Cindy (Mary Murphy) and son Ralphie (Richard Eyer) from harm, follow Griffin’s rules while going about his daily routine, and push away Cindy’s curious beau Chuck (Gig Young, They Shoot Horses Don’t They?). As the hours in the intense household drag on, both Griffin and Hilliard plot an end to the crisis.

Based on a real life incident from 1952, Joseph Hayes (Bon Voyage!) adapted his own novel and play treatment for the silver screen. Oscar winning Director William Wyler (Mrs. Miniver, Best Years of Our Lives, Ben-Hur, in addition to eight more Best Director nominations) keeps the deeply focused story tight-everything in The Desperate Hours serves its purpose. Sometimes looks, words, and actions have double or triple meaning. The script, too, knows when to speak volumes and how to be quiet. Silent onscreen maneuvers, character twitches, and unnerving up close shots add emotion, attraction, and intensity. Today’s thrillers have the habit of telling too much or going overboard on the action and what we see. Wyler uses film noir lighting and the confines of set and story to let the audience inside with suspense and intelligence. Here’s proof that a fine piece of drama can be had just by putting a handful of people on the proverbial stage and letting the camera roll. Modern viewers might find the style stifling or the fifties colloquialisms too typical, but that nostalgic film noir magic is the point, isn’t it?

After all his leading man success and even a wonderful comedic turn in We’re No Angels- also released in 1955-Bogart returns to his villainous roots in The Desperate Hours. Perhaps he looks a little old for the part, yes; too old maybe for heavier action or stunts in this one of his final films. Knowing that Bogart was suffering from cancer and died two years later, we might think he’s not up to snuff, but that is simply not the case. We believe the wise talking, aged Bogie as an escaped criminal who’s had plenty of years to stew on his plans. Glenn Griffin knows how things click when they go clickety click, he can handle dames with the butt of his gun, and he has a personal grudge with the coppers. We don’t like Griffin one bit, he’s cruel and biting not just to his captors, but to his kid brother Hal. Nevertheless, we cannot underestimate him or Bogart. Griffin is indeed desperate in his escape, but Bogart is genius in his bad guy performance. Like Hilliard, the audience becomes desperate to see if and when Griffin falters. Surely Bogie’s can’t win this time!

Ah yes. If anyone might give Bogart a run for his clout, its two time Best Actor Oscar winner Fredric March (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Best Years of Our Lives). Hilliard has the idyllic life; he’s the king of his castle until Griffin comes calling. He’s not stupid, for sure, but he has a family to protect. Griffin has nothing to loose, but Hilliard risks his everything on every move. We don’t doubt his strength and courage for his family, but every inaction walks the line of cowardice. You can’t let something like this blow over, can you? Who is more desperate-the man with nothing or the man with everything? The proverbial cat and mouse between Bogart and March is a delight. You needn’t fancy effects and action here- just point the camera and let these two masters go to work.

In addition to the stars, The Desperate Hours has a fine, talented support team that unfortunately doesn’t have room to fully spread their wings. Robert Middleton (Friendly Persuasion) is old school creepy as Kobish. We don’t see enough of him to get completely into his beastly ways; but at the same time, we have some very threatening imagery for 1955. Arthur Kennedy’s (Peyton Place, A Summer Place) Deputy Bard is also typical of the fifties Dragnet style cop, but there are more layers of heart, thought, and revenge than your average wooden copper. Mother Martha Scott (Our Town, The Ten Commandments, Ben-Hur) and daughter Mary Murphy (The Wild One) don’t have much to do beyond the usual screams and pretty dame defiance, but both ladies are charming nonetheless and keep us speculating on what rapacious things might happen in a situation like this. Only Richard Eyer (Stagecoach West, The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad) is annoying as the too pesky and obvious kid brother Ralphie. How do you end up with a college aged daughter and an elementary school son, anyway?

Sharp-eyed viewers will also notice that the exterior of the Hilliard home is the Leave it to Beaver house. It’s a fine touch of irony that this mature and complex shattering of the sanctity of home takes place in our quintessential Cleaver household. The layout and locations of the residence work wonderfully. It’s a large house, yet the interior set is small enough for restricted, confined, claustrophobic filming. The tight action, larger scale police maneuvering, fifties effects and visual tricks still look good, too.

There is a 1990 remake of The Desperate Hours starring Mickey Rourke, but I’ve never seen it. With a classic such as this out the gate, I don’t know why anyone would bother. Fortunately, the 1955 original is available on DVD. A bare bones release with no features beyond subtitles, but a treasured treat for your Bogart collection nonetheless. While Bogie aficionados already appreciate The Desperate Hours, classic film fans and suspense or thriller lovers should look at this film again. Fans of plays or film school folks might also enjoy an examination of stage to screen, talent, and technique study. One showing of The Desperate Hours, however, isn’t enough to appreciate everything- but you have to allow some time for things to stew and germ between viewings, too. Audiences young and old looking for an intelligent thriller should learn, live, and love The Desperate Hours.

The Best Years of Our Lives

Best Years of Our Lives Still One of The Best

By Kristin Battestella

I consider myself a serious classic movie buff. Friends can’t understand my affinity for black and white pictures-my husband hates them! After this renown for such classics, my father was miffed that I had missed one of the greatest films of all time: The Best Years of Our Lives.

Now certainly I’d heard of William Wyler’s haunting classic about a trio of soldiers adjusting to life in post World War II America. I love Wyler’s previous works- The Big Country, The Depsperate Hours, The Heiress, and of course Ben-Hur. I’m also fan of war movies- The Longest Day, From Here To Eternity, Mr. Roberts-even Wyler’s own The Memphis Belle: A Story of a Flying Fortress. The stars, however, seemed lined against me and this film (and The Sand Pebbles for some reason. I can’t catch that one, either.) Every time The Best Years of Our Lives was slated on television I missed it. Until at last, this summer the stars realigned!

PBS. No power outages, no place to be but before the tele with my dad. A blank tape was in the VCR, too. I was taking no chances for this momentous occasion. Only twice before have I taped a movie without having seen it, and both films I now absolutely adore-Laura and Rebecca.

Speaking of Laura, I was confused at first by its stars Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews-I thought Dana was Laura! No mistaking it here- Dana Andrews, Fredric March and Harold Russell are the triple focus of Best Picture winner The Best Years of Our Lives. The three neighbors meet by chance while returning home from Europe after the war. Former uppity banker Al Stephenson has to adjust to the poor life with his wife Milly (Myrna Loy) and daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright) while decorated Captain Fred Derry (Andrews) has no opportunity on the home front- he returns to his previous job as a soda jerk. His wife (Virginia Mayo) can’t get used to him out of uniform, and the quickie marriage falls apart. By contrast Homer Parrish (Russell) would seem to have it all. He returns to his family home and the perfect girl who loves him-but he wavers between happiness and despair while he and his family come to terms with the loss of not one, but both of his hands.

Unlike pro war movies made during the battles-everyone’s a hero, evil is defeated, the good guys always get the girl- The Best Years of Our Lives sheds light on the plight of the soldiers’ return. Indeed it is not all parades and parties and everything one desires on a silver platter. How can a man who’s gone for five years and taught to kill or drops bombs be expected to fit into civilian society? How does society deal with the influx of such thousands? Work, housing, money, relationships, these aspects and more all have a serious statement to make in The Best Years of Our Lives.

Strange that The Best Years of Our Lives hits the nail on the head with the post World War II troubles, but what saddens me the most is that we seemed to have learned nothing since this 1946 release. When a simple soldier comes to Al’s bank for a loan with no collateral, home, or money but a dream of a farm of his own-banking wise, he should be denied. When Al gives him the loan, I cried. I cried because we are still dealing with the mistreatment of veterans in this country.

Google it and you’ll see all the statistics about American veterans in the 21^st Century. One in four veterans is homeless, and one million are uninsured and ineligible for VA assistance. If The Best Years of Our Lives were in color and the women took off their hats, it would be today. This timeless quality and truth is what kept the boomers hounding me about seeing this film. Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane, Casablanca. You talk to a classics fan, it’s only a matter of time before you’re asked, “Have you ever seen The Best Years of Our Lives?”

The title alone is haunting and deserves analysis. This is supposed to be the best time of these people’s lives? Are you for real? It’s the worst. Why is that? It shouldn’t be.

Of course, there’d be none of this deserved hype for The Best Years of Our Lives without the spot on cast. Dana Andrews (Crash Dive, The Ox-Bow Incident) looks like a suave bombardier and no doubt he’s got the range to be suave and in love or angry as the over grown soda jerk. WWII movies today don’t have the air as the films of old, largely because modern actors don’t have the look and style of the forties. It looks like playing dress up.

Fredric March (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) plays the high scale banker to a Best Actor winning T. He can’t get used to no servants and nasty bosses, yet March sells the drunken slumbers and problem conversations with his wife, son, and daughter. The Thin Man alum Myrna Loy and Teresa Wright (The Pride of the Yankees) are also stellar as the patient ladies who’ve held things together before, during, and now after the war.

But of course, real life veteran and double amputee Harold Russell steals the show as Homer. A good chunk of time on film is spent in silence watching Homer use his hooks to do-or not do- routine tasks. The audience watches in twisted fascination at his skill to eat or light a cigarette, but Homer can’t button his shirt or close his door at night because he can’t turn the handle. Today, a film would never spend time on a real life person like this; much less let this heartbreaking situation speak for itself. Cudos to Best Supporting Actor winner Russell and Best Director Wyler for rising to the occasion. Some dialogue you can tell that this is Russell’s first film, but he holds his own against the stellar cast around him. In fact, his simplicity makes the film in many ways.

Based on a script by Robert Sherwood (who was also nominated for the adaptation of Rebecca) from the novel by MacKinlay Kantor, The Best Years of Our Lives won seven Oscars-including Adapted Screenplay. Words like this just aren’t spoken onscreen anymore. What’s said needs to be said. All the cues are made and lines delivered, but Wyler and Sherwood also know where to let the expressions, lighting, music, and action speak for itself. As heavy as The Best Years of Our Lives is, the audience is never hit over the head or underestimated.

There’s just so much to be said for a film of old, and The Best Years of Our Lives is the perfect time capsule. Not only could the style, look, and feel, of the post war era not be replicated today, but such a serious topic would not receive the direction, script, and time it deserves. Young folks today will probably find Best too slow, melodramatic, and cliché. Some might even laugh at the signs of the time captured on film. Women in hats and gloves, the slide across the front seat of a car (that’s not even possible in today’s models!), even the drinking, smoking, and eating habits portrayed have changed. We don’t even have soda jerks anymore-and Dollar Tree and Five Below have replaced five and ten cent stores.

All these changes and yet The Best Years of Our Lives captures America’s reactions and relationships to soldiers then and now. Not one minute of its near three hour run time is wasted, and once you sit down, you can’t turn away, despite how uncomfortable some scenes can make you feel. These things need to be witnessed.

The Best Years of Our Lives can’t be appreciated by cgi spoiled young folks. Although there’s no blood, little violence, and no language to speak of, the subject matter in The Best Years of Our Lives is not suitable for children or the overly sensitive. Boomers no doubt know the film by heart, and a DVD upgrade is definitely necessary for the tech savvy and collectors. If you’re interested in war films or are a budding classic enthusiast, you can’t watch The Best Years of Our Lives soon enough.