Ever see a movie for which you had low expectations but was actually better than you hoped? This old black-&-whitey looked to be another in a long line of college football flicks the Duke played in during his early career. John Wayne gets second-billed under Laura La Plante as Bob Denton, a West Point-bound ball player for whom she's fallen. The scene in the locker room gives us the chance to see the young Duke's slim & powerful pecs.
I think they may have used actual footage from an Army-Navy game in the opening sequence. Oldie movies in some ways are like a time machine, where you can glimpse the ways people viewed the world in that time. Those turn of the century football uniforms for instance had none of the padding we've grown accustomed to today; and god, the helmets are no protection at all, just skullcaps fitting close over their head and ears.
La Plante plays Evelyn Palmer, a lady who's the latest in a long line of lady friends for Denton (Duke). She wants marriage but he's not interested; in fact he tells her, "My women understand me--they take one look and know they can expect nothing." So how does she respond to this rebuff? Well, just as Denton's about to be transferred to Arizona, she romances and marries his mentor, Colonel Frank Bonham, who regards Denton almost as a son.
The pair were bound to meet again, and for him it's a very stiff and awkward moment. The first thing he tells Evelyn once they're alone is, naturally, "what a rotten thing to do." In a way it's his own damn fault, but he finds a more compatible partner in Evelyn's batty sister Bonnie (June Clyde). You may notice if you ever watch this that the players are all talking a bit too loudly. Film hadn't quite broken from the stage traditions, and besides, it's doubtful that in 1931 they had very good microphones to work with. Still, we have an opportunity to hear Duke sing with Bonnie in his own voice, which wasn't so bad after all; better than the dubs they inflicted on him in his later singing cowboy movies.
Duke & Bonnie marry in secret. Unfortunately he plays Good Samaritan to a drunken Hispanic girl (yep, it begins that early, the drunken Mexican cliche). Evelyn is right behind him in another car and draws all the wrong conclusions. In an act of spite she rips her own dress and practically accuses Duke of rape in front of his Colonel. He's either too stunned or hurt to defend himself and is forced to resign from the Army.
I've lost all sympathy for Evelyn at this point; bad enough she drags my mother's name through the dirt. But that conniving wench justifies herself on the grounds that she was protecting sister Bonnie from Duke, totally unaware that they're already married. By the time she realizes this and fesses up to Col. Bonham, he doesn't believe her. The tangled web of lies does fall apart in the end,and the Colonel becomes the better man by forgiving both Duke and his errant wife.
Good use was made of the play by Augustus E. Thomas that this movie was based on. It's also a pretty good example of one where the Duke doesn't dominate the film with his sheer presence. At times a heartbreaker, it's not easy to sit through at times but it all works out by the end.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
The Lawless Range (1935)
Good thing this was John Wayne's final outing as a singing cowboy; they'd been turning into a great source of embarrassment to him every time a child asked him to sing at personal appearances. Sorry, kids, he just didn't have the same golden yodel as Jack Kirk, who voice was dubbed in to substitute for the Duke's on this film.
This time out John Wayne appears as...well, John Middleton; he was so close to playing himself the other players didn't even have to forget his real name. John Middleton's father has sent him to help his old pal Emmett. By the time he reaches the territory he's been cornered first by rustlers, rescued a girl who trains her gun on him at first, then flees the posse that was sent after the rustlers. Well, the posse in its infinite wisdom feel its their duty to bring 'im back to town where they can hang him properly. Luckily the plucky lass he'd rescued before rides into town just into time to vouch for him.
I had a feeling that banker Cater was behind the whole plot to drive all the ranchers off their land; score one for me. Not a big surprise that in the depths of the Depression, it was easy for filmmakers to pinpoint money-men and lawyers as easy villain material.
Republic Pictures commits the sin of dubbing the Duke's singing voice twice, and the first time they simply recycled "A Cowboy's Song of Fate" from his first singing cowboy flick Riders of Destiny. Then they repeat the sin by having him serenade lady love Sheila Bromley (credited as Sheila Mannors) in a porch swing. It was kind of a return appearance for her, as she'd already been his lady sidekick in his previous singing oater, Westward Ho (1935), Republic Pictures first motion picture production. From this point on whenever we hear the Duke sing, it'll be in his own voice, and usually in a scene where he's portraying a drunk.
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/riders-of-destiny-1933/390382704351339
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/the-man-from-utah-1934/390397254349884
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/westward-ho-1935/322823444440599
This time out John Wayne appears as...well, John Middleton; he was so close to playing himself the other players didn't even have to forget his real name. John Middleton's father has sent him to help his old pal Emmett. By the time he reaches the territory he's been cornered first by rustlers, rescued a girl who trains her gun on him at first, then flees the posse that was sent after the rustlers. Well, the posse in its infinite wisdom feel its their duty to bring 'im back to town where they can hang him properly. Luckily the plucky lass he'd rescued before rides into town just into time to vouch for him.
I had a feeling that banker Cater was behind the whole plot to drive all the ranchers off their land; score one for me. Not a big surprise that in the depths of the Depression, it was easy for filmmakers to pinpoint money-men and lawyers as easy villain material.
Republic Pictures commits the sin of dubbing the Duke's singing voice twice, and the first time they simply recycled "A Cowboy's Song of Fate" from his first singing cowboy flick Riders of Destiny. Then they repeat the sin by having him serenade lady love Sheila Bromley (credited as Sheila Mannors) in a porch swing. It was kind of a return appearance for her, as she'd already been his lady sidekick in his previous singing oater, Westward Ho (1935), Republic Pictures first motion picture production. From this point on whenever we hear the Duke sing, it'll be in his own voice, and usually in a scene where he's portraying a drunk.
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/riders-of-destiny-1933/390382704351339
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/the-man-from-utah-1934/390397254349884
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/westward-ho-1935/322823444440599
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
The Three Mesquiteers
William Colt McDonald's western novels tracked all the way back to 1929. By far his most famous creations were the Three Mesquiteers, three cowpokes who righted wrongs in the Wild West. Basically it was the Three Musketeers on horseback, although technically there were four Musketeers in Alexander Dumas' novels. Hollywood wasted very little time in adapting his 1934 novels Powdersmoke Range & Law of the Forty-Fives into major motion pictures, with Harry Carey Sr. as 'Tuscon' Smith.
These first Mesquiteers films arrived in 1935, the same year Republic Pictures was born from a merger of Consolidated Film Laboratories, Monogram Pictures, Mascot Pictures and other odds and ends. It should come as no surprise that John Wayne had worked at Monogram and Mascot in the 30's. One of Republic's money-making ideas was to launch a western series based on McDonald's Three Mesquiteers characters.
Ironically the Duke was on his last days as a B-Western actor when he took the role of Stoney Brooke, alongside Ray 'Crash' Corrigan as Tuscon Smith & Max Terhune as Lullaby Joslin and his dummy Elmer. I remember Corrigan as the dashing Navy man from the Republic serial "Undersea Kingdom"; I watched that as a kid in the third grade--in re-runs--on TV! Nope, no way was I young enough to have seen those in theaters! Thanks to this, 'The Purple Monster Strikes!', 'Captain America' and others, I grew to love them old-time serials from a young age.
But I'm forgetting the Duke. Between 1936's The Three Mesquiteers to 1943's Riders of the Rio Grande, Republic released 51 pictures in the series, films usually under an hour long which mixed modern settings and traditional cowboy iconography such as cattle drives, gold strikes and horseback rides. Nine teams of actors filled the three main roles over the years. Since it was the 1930's, bankers & lawyers usually stood in for the villians. As Stoney Brooke, Duke had a woman in every ranch.
Duke's first Mesquiteer outing was 1938's Pales of the Saddle, which opens, oddly enough on a World War One battlefield. The plot involves foreign agents trying to smuggle chemical agent monium to Mexico for use in making poison gas. Stoney stumbles into the murder of a government agent at his hotel, and finds himself accused of the murder by the dead man's partner Ann (Doreen McKay).
They say Duke was a natural actor and you can see it written all over his face: "Christ, not another movie where I'm the guy falsely accused of a murder I didn't commit an' someone else has to save my bacon!" It's actually not the first time this has happened in his B-westerns. This time it's his pal Lullaby posing as the sheriff who sneaks him out of the hotel.
Ann forces Stoney (Duke) to go undercover in a dark jacket and three-day-old beard, which kind of suits him. Be on the alert for the cliche spy with the narrow German face and thick eyeglasses. By the time Ann brings back the 81st Cavalry, the Mesquiteers pretty much had things wrapped up.
The next film, Overland Stage Raiders (also from 1938) involves bandits holding up gold shipments until our heroes decide to ship the gold out by airplane. When the plane goes missing, it's up to the Mesquiteers to track it down. This was a curious creature involving gangsters, posses, buses, train-robbers, and another good-lookin' dame in Louis Brooks--yeh, the famous silent film starlet in her final picture. She'd traded in her page-boy haircut for shoulder length style, and she's still a knock-out.
This was basically a cookie-cutter series with recyclable plots, backdrops and cardboard characters, which nonetheless made for an exciting ride. In all fairness, these films were very popular in their day, serving as a considerable career boost thanks to the great exposure on the marquee. Duke starred in eight of these films between 1938 to '39, and after this he never had to work in a B-western again.
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=94354367336495840#editor/target=post;postID=2320453163811859533;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=2;src=postname
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/range-feud-1931/201884166534528
These first Mesquiteers films arrived in 1935, the same year Republic Pictures was born from a merger of Consolidated Film Laboratories, Monogram Pictures, Mascot Pictures and other odds and ends. It should come as no surprise that John Wayne had worked at Monogram and Mascot in the 30's. One of Republic's money-making ideas was to launch a western series based on McDonald's Three Mesquiteers characters.
Ironically the Duke was on his last days as a B-Western actor when he took the role of Stoney Brooke, alongside Ray 'Crash' Corrigan as Tuscon Smith & Max Terhune as Lullaby Joslin and his dummy Elmer. I remember Corrigan as the dashing Navy man from the Republic serial "Undersea Kingdom"; I watched that as a kid in the third grade--in re-runs--on TV! Nope, no way was I young enough to have seen those in theaters! Thanks to this, 'The Purple Monster Strikes!', 'Captain America' and others, I grew to love them old-time serials from a young age.
But I'm forgetting the Duke. Between 1936's The Three Mesquiteers to 1943's Riders of the Rio Grande, Republic released 51 pictures in the series, films usually under an hour long which mixed modern settings and traditional cowboy iconography such as cattle drives, gold strikes and horseback rides. Nine teams of actors filled the three main roles over the years. Since it was the 1930's, bankers & lawyers usually stood in for the villians. As Stoney Brooke, Duke had a woman in every ranch.
Duke's first Mesquiteer outing was 1938's Pales of the Saddle, which opens, oddly enough on a World War One battlefield. The plot involves foreign agents trying to smuggle chemical agent monium to Mexico for use in making poison gas. Stoney stumbles into the murder of a government agent at his hotel, and finds himself accused of the murder by the dead man's partner Ann (Doreen McKay).
They say Duke was a natural actor and you can see it written all over his face: "Christ, not another movie where I'm the guy falsely accused of a murder I didn't commit an' someone else has to save my bacon!" It's actually not the first time this has happened in his B-westerns. This time it's his pal Lullaby posing as the sheriff who sneaks him out of the hotel.
Ann forces Stoney (Duke) to go undercover in a dark jacket and three-day-old beard, which kind of suits him. Be on the alert for the cliche spy with the narrow German face and thick eyeglasses. By the time Ann brings back the 81st Cavalry, the Mesquiteers pretty much had things wrapped up.
The next film, Overland Stage Raiders (also from 1938) involves bandits holding up gold shipments until our heroes decide to ship the gold out by airplane. When the plane goes missing, it's up to the Mesquiteers to track it down. This was a curious creature involving gangsters, posses, buses, train-robbers, and another good-lookin' dame in Louis Brooks--yeh, the famous silent film starlet in her final picture. She'd traded in her page-boy haircut for shoulder length style, and she's still a knock-out.
This was basically a cookie-cutter series with recyclable plots, backdrops and cardboard characters, which nonetheless made for an exciting ride. In all fairness, these films were very popular in their day, serving as a considerable career boost thanks to the great exposure on the marquee. Duke starred in eight of these films between 1938 to '39, and after this he never had to work in a B-western again.
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=94354367336495840#editor/target=post;postID=2320453163811859533;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=2;src=postname
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-robbins/range-feud-1931/201884166534528
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Red River (1948)
John Ford was as famous for abusing his actors as much as for his brilliance as a director. So it must have come as quite a compliment when he commented on John Wayne's performance in 'Red River', "I didn't know the big son of a bitch could act." And to think, the Duke had only been in 10 Ford movies before that...
This movie was based on a Saturday Evening Post story by Borden Chase, who along with screenwriter Charles Schnee adopted it for the screen. Might explain the diary entries that pop up onscreen at various times as the story progresses. Duke takes a dark turn in his first pairing with director Howard Hawks. His role is Tom Dunson, a stubborn man who won't mind ya for nuthin', not even for the love of his woman. An Indian raid takes her, and all he gets for his troubles as he crosses into Texas is a young boy he finds with a cow. That boy, Matthew Garth, will be like a son to Dunson. Walter Brennan is there as Groot, the first of many old coots to appear alongside the Duke in years to come.
The pair turn out to be two sides of the same stubborn coin, the main difference being Matt hasn't entirely lost his heart. For Dunson, that's a sign of weakness. 14 years pass and Dunson has the biggest damn ranch in all of Texas, which pretty much counts for squat unless he can get over 900 head of cattle to market in Missouri. The make-up effects on the Duke as he transitions to an older man are extraordinary. His change from a stern taskmaster goes from bad to worse as the cattle drive progresses. Word comes to them of a quicker route to Abilene, but Dunson is too dense to chance it.
It's a bit like those wildebeest migrations you see on National Geographic, with cattle substituted, jostling across rivers and prairies. The inevitable stampede is brought on by a klutz who's fond of stealing sugar from the grub wagon. At one point Dunson is about to hang two deserters, and that's when Matt is forced to take charge. He leaves Dunson, his mentor and father-figure, with a shot-up hand and Dunson's promise that he's gonna kill him.
Of course thee's the circle of wagons surrounded by Indians, where Matt meets his lady love Tess Millay after he rides into the wagon train. She's a plucky young lass with a bad shot. She's still joking with him, even after she gets an arrow in the shoulder. Like Dunson before him Matt can't stay, but he leaves her with the bracelet Dunson had given him, the one that had belonged to his dead lover.
The shadow of Dunson is never far from anyone's mind. In fact he's only ten days behind Matt's drive when he encounters the wagon train. Tess matches wits with Dunson, persuading him to bring her with the gang of desperadoes he's rounded up to deal with Matt.
After last minute doubts and foreboding, the cattle drive crosses the tracks into Abilene, and boy is that conductor glad to see them, or at least their beef. Western hero Harry Carey Sr. greets them in Abilene as Melville, the man about to buy their cattle. This would be the veteran's fourth and final time to appear alongside the Duke in film.
The fateful confrontation with Dunson arrives, for which I have only one gripe. We know he's brought about a dozen hired killers with him to Abilene, but--they don't DO anything! They don't even follow Dunson as he tramples into town. They simply disappear, out of sight and mind. It's like he doesn't even need them, which leads to the inevitable question: why the hell did he hired them in the first place?
Even the cattle know to get out of his way. Now granted John Wayne isn't the best actor in the world, but once he fixes that dark, angry glare on you, even the strongest man wants to run away. He has that scowl on every step he takes toward Matt, firing left and right while Matt never flinches. Just when you think he's gonna beat the crap out of him--WHOMP! Matt comes to life and meets him blow for blow.
The only thing that stops them is Tess coming in with a few well-placed shots. She then treats both men to the tongue-lashing they've both had coming, verbally unloading on them with both barrels. She leaves them both tongue-tied; I guess it takes a woman all fired up to effect a reconciliation between two such hard nuts.
Speaking of which, this was Montgomery Clift's film debut, a great source of discomfort for the Duke not only because their political views didn't square, but on account of Cleft's homosexuality. Everyone agreed to put politics aside, which made shooting that much easier, but the OTHER thing...Nobody gives a lick about that nowadays--everybody knows there's a large contingent of gay actors in Hollywood. In 1948, in fact until very recently, nobody talked about it at all. John Ireland (Cherry Valance), another gay co-star, was Clift's emm, buddy at the time, shall we say. Not that there's anything wrong about that...
Yeh, I've run on and on too much about this film, but that's because it's that good, livid with breath-taking scenery, unconvincing backdrops, a tense drama and one of the darkest performances of Duke's career. Expertly recommended.
This movie was based on a Saturday Evening Post story by Borden Chase, who along with screenwriter Charles Schnee adopted it for the screen. Might explain the diary entries that pop up onscreen at various times as the story progresses. Duke takes a dark turn in his first pairing with director Howard Hawks. His role is Tom Dunson, a stubborn man who won't mind ya for nuthin', not even for the love of his woman. An Indian raid takes her, and all he gets for his troubles as he crosses into Texas is a young boy he finds with a cow. That boy, Matthew Garth, will be like a son to Dunson. Walter Brennan is there as Groot, the first of many old coots to appear alongside the Duke in years to come.
The pair turn out to be two sides of the same stubborn coin, the main difference being Matt hasn't entirely lost his heart. For Dunson, that's a sign of weakness. 14 years pass and Dunson has the biggest damn ranch in all of Texas, which pretty much counts for squat unless he can get over 900 head of cattle to market in Missouri. The make-up effects on the Duke as he transitions to an older man are extraordinary. His change from a stern taskmaster goes from bad to worse as the cattle drive progresses. Word comes to them of a quicker route to Abilene, but Dunson is too dense to chance it.
It's a bit like those wildebeest migrations you see on National Geographic, with cattle substituted, jostling across rivers and prairies. The inevitable stampede is brought on by a klutz who's fond of stealing sugar from the grub wagon. At one point Dunson is about to hang two deserters, and that's when Matt is forced to take charge. He leaves Dunson, his mentor and father-figure, with a shot-up hand and Dunson's promise that he's gonna kill him.
Of course thee's the circle of wagons surrounded by Indians, where Matt meets his lady love Tess Millay after he rides into the wagon train. She's a plucky young lass with a bad shot. She's still joking with him, even after she gets an arrow in the shoulder. Like Dunson before him Matt can't stay, but he leaves her with the bracelet Dunson had given him, the one that had belonged to his dead lover.
The shadow of Dunson is never far from anyone's mind. In fact he's only ten days behind Matt's drive when he encounters the wagon train. Tess matches wits with Dunson, persuading him to bring her with the gang of desperadoes he's rounded up to deal with Matt.
After last minute doubts and foreboding, the cattle drive crosses the tracks into Abilene, and boy is that conductor glad to see them, or at least their beef. Western hero Harry Carey Sr. greets them in Abilene as Melville, the man about to buy their cattle. This would be the veteran's fourth and final time to appear alongside the Duke in film.
The fateful confrontation with Dunson arrives, for which I have only one gripe. We know he's brought about a dozen hired killers with him to Abilene, but--they don't DO anything! They don't even follow Dunson as he tramples into town. They simply disappear, out of sight and mind. It's like he doesn't even need them, which leads to the inevitable question: why the hell did he hired them in the first place?
Even the cattle know to get out of his way. Now granted John Wayne isn't the best actor in the world, but once he fixes that dark, angry glare on you, even the strongest man wants to run away. He has that scowl on every step he takes toward Matt, firing left and right while Matt never flinches. Just when you think he's gonna beat the crap out of him--WHOMP! Matt comes to life and meets him blow for blow.
The only thing that stops them is Tess coming in with a few well-placed shots. She then treats both men to the tongue-lashing they've both had coming, verbally unloading on them with both barrels. She leaves them both tongue-tied; I guess it takes a woman all fired up to effect a reconciliation between two such hard nuts.
Speaking of which, this was Montgomery Clift's film debut, a great source of discomfort for the Duke not only because their political views didn't square, but on account of Cleft's homosexuality. Everyone agreed to put politics aside, which made shooting that much easier, but the OTHER thing...Nobody gives a lick about that nowadays--everybody knows there's a large contingent of gay actors in Hollywood. In 1948, in fact until very recently, nobody talked about it at all. John Ireland (Cherry Valance), another gay co-star, was Clift's emm, buddy at the time, shall we say. Not that there's anything wrong about that...
Yeh, I've run on and on too much about this film, but that's because it's that good, livid with breath-taking scenery, unconvincing backdrops, a tense drama and one of the darkest performances of Duke's career. Expertly recommended.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Santa Fe Stampede (1938)
They killed a child. Those fekking schmucks actually killed a child.
This is a dark chapter in the Duke's tenure in the Three Mesquiteers film series. The American Movie Channel tell us this Hollywood movie has the dubious distinction of being the first where a child is murdered by the villain. At the risk of being sexist, the scriptwriters for this film oddly enough were both women.
The first thing that happens is the Mequiteers ignore a sign that says Keep Out, and are promptly held up at gunpoint by two children. These youngins' have been chasing everyone off their daddy's gold claim, even the horse thieves trying to take his land. Well, the Mesquiteers' old friend Carson is giving them a half-share in his claim; unfortunately he hasn't dared leave home to record it, on account of the crooked Mayor of Santa Fe Junction.
It goes from bad to worse. The people are divided, the Mayor owns the sheriff and his deputies. Only Judge Hixon has any sort of conscience, and he's sorely lacking in backbone. Carson is murdered on his way to the capital to file a petition with the governor, along with his little daughter Julie. When the judge protested that there's a little girl with him, right before the hired thugs rode off, the Mayor snorted, "So what?"
Naturally John Wayne's character Stoney is falsely accused of the deed. Of course the Mayor's thugs encourage a thick-headed mob to take the law into their own hands. This wasn't the first time the Duke's faced an angry feeble-minded lynch mob, and this one may be the worst of the bunch, taking in not only the 'decent menfolk' of the town but even the town tramps and the old hags. They come damn close to burning Stoney and his girlfriend Nancy alive in the jail. That is one of the most intense cliffhanger scenes I've come across in a Republic picture, especially since this wasn't technically a cliffhanger serial.
In the end it ends exactly as Adam West would put it: "You poor fools, you can't escape justice," Judge Hixon finally develops enough spine to send a telegraph calling in the US Marshals. The Mayor is exposed and brought down. By and large a very enjoyable outing, although I must caution you, that poor child's cries just before her daddy's wagon is overturned will break your heart.
This is a dark chapter in the Duke's tenure in the Three Mesquiteers film series. The American Movie Channel tell us this Hollywood movie has the dubious distinction of being the first where a child is murdered by the villain. At the risk of being sexist, the scriptwriters for this film oddly enough were both women.
The first thing that happens is the Mequiteers ignore a sign that says Keep Out, and are promptly held up at gunpoint by two children. These youngins' have been chasing everyone off their daddy's gold claim, even the horse thieves trying to take his land. Well, the Mesquiteers' old friend Carson is giving them a half-share in his claim; unfortunately he hasn't dared leave home to record it, on account of the crooked Mayor of Santa Fe Junction.
It goes from bad to worse. The people are divided, the Mayor owns the sheriff and his deputies. Only Judge Hixon has any sort of conscience, and he's sorely lacking in backbone. Carson is murdered on his way to the capital to file a petition with the governor, along with his little daughter Julie. When the judge protested that there's a little girl with him, right before the hired thugs rode off, the Mayor snorted, "So what?"
Naturally John Wayne's character Stoney is falsely accused of the deed. Of course the Mayor's thugs encourage a thick-headed mob to take the law into their own hands. This wasn't the first time the Duke's faced an angry feeble-minded lynch mob, and this one may be the worst of the bunch, taking in not only the 'decent menfolk' of the town but even the town tramps and the old hags. They come damn close to burning Stoney and his girlfriend Nancy alive in the jail. That is one of the most intense cliffhanger scenes I've come across in a Republic picture, especially since this wasn't technically a cliffhanger serial.
In the end it ends exactly as Adam West would put it: "You poor fools, you can't escape justice," Judge Hixon finally develops enough spine to send a telegraph calling in the US Marshals. The Mayor is exposed and brought down. By and large a very enjoyable outing, although I must caution you, that poor child's cries just before her daddy's wagon is overturned will break your heart.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Cancel My Reservation (1972) --please
Some movies should not be allowed to exist. With the right source material a movie can be a wonderful experience. In the hands of idiots, an afternoon of water-boarding would be preferable. This turkey was the 50th & last film in the distinguished career of Bob Hope, and plainly he was in no ways ready to transition to the new decade.
TV personality Dan Bartlett (Hope) is having marriage problems, so he and his wife Sheila (Eva Marie Saint) go for some well-deserved time off at his Arizona ranch. Bodies start turning up in his trunk, Dan comes and goes in and out of jail more times than the Joker out of Arkham. Even given how far off the track they take the book that the basic story was stolen from, there is no excuse for the absence of laughs here. This was Bob-fekking-HOPE!!! We should be rolling in the aisles, not clenching our teeth and staring at our watches.
That this was based on a Louis L'Amor novel makes it doubly-sinful. The source material, 1966's The Broken Gun, while not a classic at least was a quick read with unexpected turns. The hero, Dan Sheridan finds a journal in a broken gun that leads to a 90-year-old mystery. The rancher and his hair-lipped killer Reese think Dan will be easy to kill, except for the one thing they hadn't counted on: Dan is no greenhorn writer. He was born and raised in Arizona, he knows the land and he is a Korean War veteran.
Reese is probably the only character from the novel who translates whole to the big screen; but even Forrest Tucker as the evil man can't save this picture.
Nominally I've been blogging on John Wayne movies, and thankfully he has only a cameo. Sheriff 'Houndtooth' Riley (Keenan Wynn) has just warned Bob Hope that "Mob rule may prevail.", although where they'd get a mob in what is practically a ghost town I'll never know. After that Bob or Dan has a waking nightmare in his jail cell wherein he is the guest at a necktie party. Everyone shows up to watch--Johnny Carson, his old movie partner Bing Crosby & Flip Wilson. Even John Wayne is out there in the crowd laughing it up and he tells Dan, "I'd like to help ya, pilgrim, but it's not my picture!" Amen to that, Duke.
TV personality Dan Bartlett (Hope) is having marriage problems, so he and his wife Sheila (Eva Marie Saint) go for some well-deserved time off at his Arizona ranch. Bodies start turning up in his trunk, Dan comes and goes in and out of jail more times than the Joker out of Arkham. Even given how far off the track they take the book that the basic story was stolen from, there is no excuse for the absence of laughs here. This was Bob-fekking-HOPE!!! We should be rolling in the aisles, not clenching our teeth and staring at our watches.
That this was based on a Louis L'Amor novel makes it doubly-sinful. The source material, 1966's The Broken Gun, while not a classic at least was a quick read with unexpected turns. The hero, Dan Sheridan finds a journal in a broken gun that leads to a 90-year-old mystery. The rancher and his hair-lipped killer Reese think Dan will be easy to kill, except for the one thing they hadn't counted on: Dan is no greenhorn writer. He was born and raised in Arizona, he knows the land and he is a Korean War veteran.
Reese is probably the only character from the novel who translates whole to the big screen; but even Forrest Tucker as the evil man can't save this picture.
Nominally I've been blogging on John Wayne movies, and thankfully he has only a cameo. Sheriff 'Houndtooth' Riley (Keenan Wynn) has just warned Bob Hope that "Mob rule may prevail.", although where they'd get a mob in what is practically a ghost town I'll never know. After that Bob or Dan has a waking nightmare in his jail cell wherein he is the guest at a necktie party. Everyone shows up to watch--Johnny Carson, his old movie partner Bing Crosby & Flip Wilson. Even John Wayne is out there in the crowd laughing it up and he tells Dan, "I'd like to help ya, pilgrim, but it's not my picture!" Amen to that, Duke.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
'The War Wagon' (1967) review
By this time we can all agree that in every role he's taken, John Wayne plays himself. This time around he's a bit like the monolith; you know it's there and it kind of dominates the scenery but that's not the most important part of it. The Duke shares co-star status with Kirk Douglas. I like him better here, he's got that devil-may-care personality, and he gets all the best lines of the movie.
Duke plays Taw Jackson, a man wronged by Pierce--just Pierce--, a man who stole Taw's land for the gold stake, framed Taw and sent him to jail. Now that he's on parole, Taw means to get back at Pierce by robbing his money wagon. One problem: this 'wagon' is an armored carriage, with a Gatling gun, which is guarded by 30 men on horseback. No problem.
Basically it's a caper movie with cowboys and Indians. Taw hires for his crew old man Fletcher and his abused teenage wife, the 'smart' Indian Levi Walking Bear, and a drunken explosives expert, Billy Hyatt (Robert Walker Jr.). The last member of the crew is Lomax, played by the irrepresible Kirk Douglas. Pierce has a mind to hire gunslinger and safe-cracker Lomax to kill Taw, except Taw hires him first. Neither man trusts the other, but that's the sparks that keeps things moving.
Told you Kirk gets the best lines? Well, they've gone to find Levi Walking Bear and they find him all right...tied to a rock and used as target practice for a band of drunken Mexican banditos. Lomax takes one look at that and remarks dryly to Taw, "Let me guess which one's your friend."
Naturally we have the stereotypes, the drunken Mexicans and the untrustworthy Indians. Still it's an entertaining outing that never drags. The Duke is straight man to Kirk in their last film together and they milk for laughs. Recommended.
Duke plays Taw Jackson, a man wronged by Pierce--just Pierce--, a man who stole Taw's land for the gold stake, framed Taw and sent him to jail. Now that he's on parole, Taw means to get back at Pierce by robbing his money wagon. One problem: this 'wagon' is an armored carriage, with a Gatling gun, which is guarded by 30 men on horseback. No problem.
Basically it's a caper movie with cowboys and Indians. Taw hires for his crew old man Fletcher and his abused teenage wife, the 'smart' Indian Levi Walking Bear, and a drunken explosives expert, Billy Hyatt (Robert Walker Jr.). The last member of the crew is Lomax, played by the irrepresible Kirk Douglas. Pierce has a mind to hire gunslinger and safe-cracker Lomax to kill Taw, except Taw hires him first. Neither man trusts the other, but that's the sparks that keeps things moving.
Told you Kirk gets the best lines? Well, they've gone to find Levi Walking Bear and they find him all right...tied to a rock and used as target practice for a band of drunken Mexican banditos. Lomax takes one look at that and remarks dryly to Taw, "Let me guess which one's your friend."
Naturally we have the stereotypes, the drunken Mexicans and the untrustworthy Indians. Still it's an entertaining outing that never drags. The Duke is straight man to Kirk in their last film together and they milk for laughs. Recommended.
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