The Girl Said No (Sam Wood, 1930) F

When you head into a William Haines picture, you almost always know what to expect. Haines always plays a cocky young fellow (usually an athlete, but not here) who falls in love with someone else's girl and then tries to woo her, all while learning a lesson about humility, during the rest of the picture. In The Girl Said No, we get all that but I was horribly offended and disgusted (and I don't do that easily) by Haines' character's treatment of the girl he chases after. She really does say, "No," quite emphatically, and when he doesn't listen and continues to pursue her, it takes on the form of rape and I definitely don't need to see that. Add to that the scene where Haines puts a bag over the girls head and kidnaps her away from her wedding and I nearly felt like vomiting. Haines' characters are usually cads, but they have a redeeming factor that makes up for it in the end; here, Haines is a complete prick the whole way through and still manages to get whatever he wants. The Girl Said No is a relic of a type of film that's better left in the past and with no redeeming factors to unearth it.

Barbara Stanwyck Double Feature: Night Nurse (William Wellman, 1931) B/You Belong to Me (Wesley Ruggles, 1941) C+

Night Nurse and You Belong to Me are two very different types of films from two completely different time periods but have one common link: Barbara Stanwyck. Night Nurse is the better of the two and is actually one of the better Pre-Code films I have due to the fact that it has more going for it than raciness (like good acting and a decent, involving storyline). Stanwyck starts training as a nurse and one night she befriends a shot bootlegger who she doesn't write a mandatory report on. After she completes her training, she starts working at a household with two sick children, a drunken alcoholic mother, a crooked doctor and a scheming chauffeur. She uncovers a dirty secret and its up to her to prevent the death of the children. Night Nurse isn't perfect-- the beginning is filled with a little too much superfluous scenes that didn't add anything-- but it's undeniably sexy and quite a fun, racy time. You Belong to Me has the makings of a good romantic comedy-- a silly Henry Fonda performance, an unconventional (for the time) look at gender roles-- but is ultimate marred by the standards of the time. The only way Barbara Stanwyck believes that her marriage will work is that if she gives up her doctor practice, all of her dreams and goals and stays at home to take care of her needy, jealous husband (Fonda). It's a shame that You Belong To Me (kinda) comes to this conclusions, because, up to this point, Stanwyck had been such a beacon of independence and girl power in a way I hadn't seen in a film since the Pre-Code days.

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang, 1933) A-

Fritz Lang's The Testament of Dr. Mabuse, his last before fleeing Nazi Germany after being offered the position of head of film propaganda by Goebbels himself, is an exciting crime thriller that takes some time to get used to but is ultimately worth the effort once you do. The film immediately opens up with a completely silent scene in which one man, to whom we aren't introduced to yet, is eavesdropping on two other men. He listens for awhile and then, suddenly, the two men spot the man's feet sticking out. After playing it cool for awhile, the two men start shooting, prompting a chase down the street before the man breaks away. What I find most interesting about Dr. Mabuse is how we are introduced to three different storylines all in the beginning and it isn't until towards the last 30 minutes that they truly come together (brilliantly, I must add). They stand apart on their own and it's quite fun guessing how exactly they will all connect eventually.

Politics (Charles Reisner, 1931) C+

Charles Reisner, the director of this Marie Dressler-Polly Moran vehicle, is listed as the sole director of my favorite Buster Keaton film Steamboat Bill, Jr., but after this and Reducing, I'm beginning to think that the success of that film has more to do with Keaton than Reisner. I'm not saying that Reisner is necessarily bad or anything, it's just that it is hard to believe the laconic point and shoot method that he uses here can come from the same guy who set up such exquisite and hilarious gags in the Keaton film. This is just another average MGM dramedy that tells a simple story with a couple of jokes and gags thrown in and aims for nothing else. Dressler, as always, is a hoot and either Moran is growing on me or this is another fine, subtle performance (for her, anyways) of hers.

Prosperity (Sam Wood, 1932) B-

Sam Wood's Prosperity has all the makings of a bad MGM B-picture in the vein of Reducing with its cast (Marie Dressler, Polly Moran and Anita Page are all here again), really shoddy look and horrible editing. Somehow, none of these elements work against Prosperity and it becomes one of the finest films about the financial burden of the Depression I've ever seen. Marie Dressler is the owner of a small town bank and on the day her son is going to get married to Polly Moran's daughter, she steps down as president and hands the reins over to her son. After Moran inadvertently starts a bank panic, Dressler finds out that her son has invested the bonds that she held in security for the bank and can't get them back for at least six months, when the government building they were invested in is expected to be finished. Dressler is forced to close the bank but promises that they will reopen and even sells her house and all of her possessions to keep the customers happy until then. Dressler and her son's family is forced to move in with Moran and they all become miserable living there. The son leaves/is forced out and Dressler moves into a small apartment with him and starts working in a grocery store to support herself. Eventually, it looks the building they invested the bonds in won't be finished in time and it's left to Dressler to find a way out of this crisis. The early slapstick scenes are mildly amusing, but it's during the dramatic sections that Dressler truly shines. She rarely oversells the scenes or her reactions, which was her biggest tendency to do onscreen, and handles them like the old pro that she was. Even Polly Moran was tolerable (I'm excluding the scene where she's hollering like a banshee for her money in the bank) and was as subtle as I wager I'll ever see her.

Reducing (Charles Reisner, 1931) D+

A silly and completely stupid Marie Dressler vehicle that wouldn't be worth mentioning except for Dressler's performance. It's no Min and Bill, but Dressler does her best with the second-rate material and actually manages some laughs. Reducing is about a rich beauty salon owner (Polly Moran) who invites her poor country sister (Dressler) and her family to come live with her in the city. The two families start bickering right from the get go and eventually a love triangle between the daughters of Moran and Dressler and a rich man drives the two families apart. When something "unmentionable" happens to the rich daughter, she runs to Dressler and together they work out a solution that brings the Dressler and Moran back together. My main gripe with this film is that the scene endings feel completely abrupt and don't come to a natural conclusion. Lines are faded out and jokes are introduced but not fully explored or, worse, they cut a joke right in the middle.

Time for Catch Up

Yes, I realize I haven't posted on here in quite awhile and I'm trying to remedy that situation. I'm ready to get back on track but in order to do that, I need to write about the 12 films I've seen in the past week or so. So, here are my quick thoughts about those films:

Funny Games U.S. (Michael Haneke, 2008): People either love or hate this film and I found it profoundly interesting in the way it played with our expectations. The basic message about it all being "only a movie" is not new, but the way Haneke presents it here is just as fascinating as when we first saw it in Sherlock, Jr. I loved the rewind scene and how Haneke's refusal in letting the audience get the revenge they want to see. Bold and imaginative. B+

The Hurricane (John Ford, 1937): Another excursion into overrated John Ford territory. Films about Pacific island natives were in vogue during the 30's, but The Hurricane doesn't have Mutiny on the Bounty's strong narrative and performances or Bird of Paradise's hott, shirtless Joel McCrea. The film's main problem is that it presents the rebellious jailed character played by Jon Hall as the hero; more than anything, he's a hopelessly annoying boy who can't take his minor six month sentence and just move on with his life. Ugh. Even the usually reliable Mary Astor and Thomas Mitchell (who was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar, the only reason I watched this film) are boring. D-

Diabolique (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1955): For being considered one of the scariest films ever made, I probably think Diabolique is a tad overrated in that sense. However, I must admit that I was on pins and needles throughout the whole damn film. Just when you think the film is over and you're lulled into a false sense of security, Clouzot finds a new way to jolt you and make you worry for the main characters (a hard-as-nails Simone Signoret and a frail Vera Clouzot). That final scene when Clouzot's character wanders the boarding school in the dark is one of the most intense scenes I've ever seen. B+

The Battle of Algiers (Gillo Pontecorvo, 1968): The story confused me at certain points, but it's hard not to deny the impact of Pontecorvo's directorial style. It can be seen as both a blessing and a curse since it's influence is felt in both the "cinema verite" style of independent filmmaking and the shaky cam action films. B+

Murder, Inc. (Bob Balaban and Stuart Rosenberg, 1960): Peter Falk is the whole show here as soulless hit man Abe Reles in this middling gangster film that is completely stuck in the Production Code despite being from the 60's. C

The Letter (Jean de Limur, 1929): The first version of Maugham's short story is quite an achievement for an early sound film: de Limur doesn't have too many scenes where the dialogue runs on for an unnecessary amount of time and the he does attempt to tell the story visually at certain points. I'm not familiar with the structure of the source, but I think the way de Limur's The Letter lets us in on the crime right away so we figure out Leslie Crosbie (Jeanne Eagels) from scene two eliminates nearly every reason to see this movie (Contrast this with Wyler's version 11 years later which slowly unravels Leslie's story until we realize her ultimate motives at the very end). Eagels was nominated for an Oscar for this performance and God know's why since most of it is a shrilly, over the top mess. She completely unnatural in front of the camera and has the most annoyingly theatrical voice I think I've ever heard. Her only redeeming scene is her final moments when she reveals the truth to her husband and her violent line readings hold the most impact. C-

The Most Dangerous Game (Irving Pichel and Ernest B. Schoedsack, 1932): A stupid story and incredibly wooden acting dash the hopes of The Most Dangerous Game becoming the great lost classic of horror film. However, the editing is some of the crispest and most fascinating that I've seen in a film from this time period. The hunting sequences were spectacularly done and incredibly suspenseful even though you knew what the outcome was going to be. B-

Miller's Crossing (Joel and Ethan Coen, 1990): It's no Fargo or The Big Lebowski and I don't think the dark comedy is as funny or as out in the open as it is in those two masterpieces. As a 30's style gangster film, though, Miller's Crossing is still a pretty damn good film. There are so many characters to keep track of and so many double crossings that it probably needs a couple more viewings to get everything straight, but I still think it's a fun time trying to figure out Gabriel Byrne's character and loving Marcia Gay Harden and her immaculate hair. B+

On the Edge of Innocence (Peter Werner, 1997): I'll admit that the only reason I watched this film was because James Marsden stars as one-half of the romantic duo in this teenage mental hospital patients in love and on the run TV movie. The film is pretty silly in it's depiction of bipolar disorder (in my experience with my brother, the highs and lows are never that high and low) and the ending is simply stupid, but it's fun cheering on this Bonnie and Clyde-esque couple and Marsden is never bad to look at. C-

Jumper (Doug Liman, 2008): What a complete waste of time. From the first voiceover by Hayden Christensen, I was completely over this film. How do you sound that unconvincing and just plain awful in the first 30 seconds? Jamie Bell and Rachel Bilson (whom I loved on The O.C. and actually provoked a couple of seconds of laughter from her reading of "Yeah, I don't speak your language") deserved more than playing second fiddle to Christensen and did the best they could with the completely shitty material. D-

Let Us Be Gay (Robert Z. Leonard, 1930): The only point of interest in this completely average and horribly edited MGM light comedy is the pairing of Norma Shearer and Marie Dressler, two of the most respected and beloved actresses in their day but now nearly completely forgotten and misunderstood. The interplay between these two actresses was hilarious and silly, exactly what the nature of the film calls for. Dressler proved that she was ready for more challenging work and Shearer gives one of her most delightful early performances (and her best between The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg and Private Lives). C

The Cranes Are Flying (Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957): Who knew the Soviet's could make a romance this tender, emotionally fragile and completely honest. Possibly the greatest straight war time romance since The Big Parade. The deep focus photography, straight out of Citizen Kane, was impossibly beautiful and the long tracking shots, which had to have been majorly difficult, were pulled off with ease. A

Craig's Wife (Dorothy Arzner, 1936) B+

Fascinating film about a woman (Rosalind Russell) so cold and obsessed with her home that over the course of 24 hours she manages to drive out her entire family and all of the servants. The most interesting thing about Craig's Wife is the fact that neither Russell nor Arzner tried to tone down Harriet's coldness or make her more likable: a brave choice indeed since this was one of Columbia's "tent pole" pictures of 1936 and supposed to appeal as many people as possible. Russell was a bit stiff in her early scenes, but she got in to the role as soon she got back to the house. I was most impressed by the way she uses her impeccable comedic timing for this drama. That look she gave when she noticed that the vase of roses was on her piano was nearly as frightening as Faye Dunaway's look when she first notices the wire hangers in the closet.

Love Affair (Leo McCarey, 1939) B (x2)

Leo McCarey's Love Affair has the makings of one of the Great American Romances, but ultimately ends up just short of its lofty intentions. The main culprit here is the general uneveness of the screenplay and McCarey's direction. The film starts off fantastically with a charming introduction between Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne that's every bit as witty as anything in McCarey's earlier The Awful Truth. It completely sucked me in and left me wondering if I had underrated this film the last time I saw it. Then the film lost me when Boyer takes Dunne to meet his grand-mere Janou (Maria Ouspenskaya). The whole sequence doesn't really fit in with anything and those final lines between the two women which go something like "I can't walk very far. I have to stop at the edge of my sanctuary." "Well, thanks for letting me trespass into your little world." was super cringe-worthy. Just when I was ready to write the film off completely, Boyer and Dunne suck me back in with their chemistry back on the boat. It's a glorious couple of minutes, but then they are forced to split up again and McCarey can't seem to maintain the same momentum when they are apart. The next 20 minutes were decent, if not exactly noteworthy, which lead to a fantastic finale. The dialogue is a little over-written, but Boyer and Dunne are careful not to overdo anything. They keep the emotions grounded in reality, making their reunion all the more affecting.

Jesse James (Henry King, 1939) C/The Return of Frank James (Fritz Lang, 1940) C+

In a million years I never thought I would be interested in the life and crimes of notorious outlaw Jesse James, but after The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford I'm now somewhat fascinated by his legend and murder. Unfortunately, since both Jesse James and The Return of Frank James are, to varying degrees, completely fictitious. Henry King's Jesse James is a solid, if not particularly interesting, crowd pleaser that gets muddled from the get go. The film can't decide if it wants to portray James as a dashing romantic lead, a Robin Hood-esque good guy or a raving lunatic. Jesse James tries each of these to varying degrees of success but in the end we are no closer to understanding the "real" Jesse James. Tyrone Power, proving here he was only a prettyface, definitely doesn't add anything dramatically to the film. He says his lines and hits the marks, but he doesn't evoke the feelings that Brad Pitt did so well in TAoJJbtCRF. The saddest thing about Jesse James however is the fact that the writers so blatantly changed James' life story to fit the story they wanted to tell. Zee never left Jesse after the birth of their first son; it only happened in Jesse James to heighten the drama and make that reunion scene so bittersweet. If Jesse James is a fudged biopic, then The Return of Frank James is a complete work of fiction because nothing that happens in the film actually happened in real life. I wouldn't have minded if the story was an original story, but it tries to pass itself off as history and that's just wrong. Let it be shouted from the rooftops: Frank James never chased the Ford Brothers after Bob shot Jesse and he did NOT kill Bob Ford, no matter what this film tries to tell you. With that little rant aside, let me just say that, cinematically, The Return of Frank James is a much better film thanks to legendary director Fritz Lang. Where King composed every shot of Jesse James like a pretty 2-D postcard, Lang adds depth, shadows and contrast to make every scene fluid and cinematic. It's not groundbreaking stuff (especially when compared with his Metropolis, M or Fury) but it's passable and a much better film than it would have been without it.

Murder! (Alfred Hitchcock, 1930) B

Leave it to the great Alfred Hitchcock to make a sleek and adult talking picture in Great Britain when in America we were still trying to figure out how to make talking pictures work. Murder! is no classic, but it proved that talking pictures could be more than just people standing around talking and that Hitchcock was going to have a long and successful career. The story is pretty simple: a young actress is convicted of murder, but another actor on the jury (Herbert Marshall) has an attack of conscious and decides to help find the real murderer. It's obvious that Murder! was based on a stage play from the way the scenes are staged, but Hitchcock, as he usually does, tells the story more visually than most talkies of the period. The scene where the jurors are deliberating is pretty fascinating because a normal director would have filmed it mostly in a long shot with a couple of cut-ins. Hitchcock, however, has the camera flowing around the room, bouncing from juror to juror and hardly repeating the same shot more than once. My only major problem with Murder! is the fact that the sound balance hasn't quite been worked out. Whenever there was background music, it was usually so loud that it covered up the dialogue (which was already hard to understand because of the thick dialects). But I can't complain too much; American pictures of the same time could barely compete in terms of quality with this picture.

The Thin Man (W.S. Van Dyke, 1934) B+ (x2)

While watching The Thin Man again the other night, I had forgotten just how odd of an hybrid this film really is. It's not often you see screwball comedy mixed with a Dashiell Hamett murder mystery- and it's even rarer that you find the two working so well together. William Powell and Myrna Loy, as the witty, urbane and ever so slightly intoxicated Nick and Nora Charles, have perfect chemistry together and are so perfect in their roles that you forget that they hardly appear for the first half hour (almost becoming supporting players in their own story). In lesser hands, I feel the comedy probably would have fallen flat and made this another run-of-the-mill detective story. The Thin Man isn't perfect- there are too many characters to keep track of and most of the performances aside from Powell and Loy are yawn-worthy- but it's still one hell of an enjoyable time.

Listen, Darling (Edwin L. Marin, 1938) B-

Listen, Darling has the beginnings of an interesting drama about womanhood in the 1930's, but it's ultimately a perfectly respectable family comedy that only aims to please. Mary Astor plays Dottie, a widow with two kids who, due to a lack of money, is considering marrying the town banker so she can provide a future for her children. Her oldest child, Pinkie (Judy Garland) sees her sadness and comes up with a plan with her best friend Buzz (Freddie Bartholomew) to take Dottie out of the city for awhile in their trailer so she can forget about the banker guy. Out in the middle of the woods, Dottie meets a single Walter Pidgeon and they try to find out if a relationship is possible between the two. What I loved most about Listen, Darling was this one scene in particular in which Astor's Dottie describes what it's like to be a single woman in the 1930's with kids to raise. In this scene, she tells Garland's Pinkie to get voice lessons so she'll have something to fall back on in case something happens to her husband- which is exactly is what Dottie believes she should have done so she wasn't in the situation she is in now. This little exchange is brilliant because it's so subtle and not delivered with some sledgehammer speech that it's even more effective. There's not much room in Listen, Darling for a lot of deep acting, but the cast does generally well with what they are giving. It's especially nice to see Walter Pidgeon in something where he's not riding the coattails of the fabulous Greer Garson. Mary Astor, who I've realized within the past month that I love A LOT, is pretty great here, though not especially Oscar-worthy or anything. Judy Garland is given a nice juvenile role, and you can see some of her Dorothy from next year's The Wizard of Oz peeking through, but the real highlight here is her flawless rendition of "Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart."

Off topic, but during a scene between Pidgeon and Bartholomew, he asks if Pidgeon's a "woman-hater" because he's an older eligible bachelor; is this 1930's slang for homosexual?

The Goddess (Yonggang Wu, 1934) B+

The Goddess is a well-controlled silent melodrama starring the Chinese Garbo, Ruan Ling-yu. The film could have easily been something as trashy as something like The Sin of Madelon Claudet, but the sentimentality is downplayed to perfection. The acting is some of the finest I've ever seen in a silent film from Ling-yu's heartbreaking mother, driven to selling her body to support her young son to Zhang Zhizhi, whom I wanted to punch in the face everytime he came on screen (which proves he was doing his job well).

Shanghai Express (Josef von Sternberg, 1932) B- (x2)

The story and acting in Shanghai Express could have been better, but the real stars here are the gorgeous visuals and Marlene Dietrich glorious face. Cinematographer Lee Garmes won an Oscar for his efforts and I must say that it was well deserved; Shanghai Express looks nothing like any other American picture produced around the same time. Garmes' look is much more visually appealing and dreamlike than anything you would have seen at Warners (whose films tended to look gritty and "realistic") or MGM (which, in comparison, look cheap and unimaginative). He also shoots Dietrich's face in the loveliest way I have ever seen in any one of her films. Her acting, on the other hand, leaves something to be desired. Towards the middle she eases into the performance, but in the beginning and end there's a strange disconnect between her line readings, her vocal intonations and her facial expressions. Something doesn't quite add up and it definitely shows.

Wuthering Heights (William Wyler, 1939) C (x2)

For being considered one of the most romantic movies not only of the 1930's but ever, it's surprising that the main characters of Wuthering Heights- stableboy Heathcliff (Laurence Olivier) and wannabe society lady Cathy (Merle Oberon)- are such incredibly awful people. Not only are they incredibly cold, but they do such incredibly awful things to the people around them, consequently destroying their lives as well, without any regards for anyone else's feelings. Olivier, I believe, understands how to make Heathcliff's coldness sexy and alluring (easy enough considering Oliver was never the was the most personable actor). Through him, we understand what draws Cathy toward him. On the other hand, Oberon is a complete and utter mess as Cathy. Then again, the schizophrenic screenplay by the usually reliable Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, really doesn't do her any favors. In one scene, she goes from loving Heathcliff, to cutting him down to size in front of romantic interest Edgar (David Niven), then berating Edgar for speaking poorly about Heathcliff and then falling in love with Heathcliff again. Keep in mind this takes place in the matter of about 90 seconds. Even Scarlett O'Hara was more consistent. Oberon isn't a good enough actress to connect these emotions together to make them the least bit logical. Instead, we are left with a soulless portrayal of a potentially interesting character. From the beginning to the end, I had no idea who Cathy was. She appears, says some lines, goes through the motions, but she's as hollow as a chocolate Easter bunny. Geraldine Fitzgerald, as Edgar's sister Isabella, was nominated for an Oscar but I can't see why besides the fact that she was a respected stage actress and Wuthering Heights was enormously popular in 1939. She's not bad by any means (especially when contrasted with Oberon) but it's not the type of performance to write home about. Fitzgerald has some good moments- most notably the scene where she gets slapped around by Oberon- but they don't add up to a complete performance.

The Peach Girl (Wancang Bu, 1931) C-

A perfectly respectable movie, but it's really nothing more than a sub-par Greta Garbo tragedy. I know I shouldn't have been expecting some grand, sweeping epic that would have put 1930's China into perspective for some American 70 years later, but The Peach Girl is something I would expect from MGM, filmed on the back lot with white actors in "yellowface." Everything from the scene with the children slinging mud at each other (with some landing in the face of the rich landlord) to the fair scene to the dramatic deathbed finale. Actress Ruan Ling-yu was considered the Chinese Garbo before her tragic suicide in 1935 and you can see why she was so beloved in her time. She's not given much to do here, but when her beautiful face fills the frame in a close-up few silent actresses can compare.

Drums Along the Mohawk (John Ford, 1939) D

The problem with Drums Along the Mohawk don't stem from John Ford's direction (which is adequate, if not especially inventive) or the lead performances from Henry Fonda (warm, but the same old same old) and Claudette Colbert (she tries, but everything lets her down). No, exception for occasional bursts of intelligence (the scene after the major battle where Fonda walks around looking for his wife and all you hear on the soundtrack is the crying of a baby; an amazing close-up of Claudette Colbert as she watches Fonda go off to war) Drums Along the Mohawk can't make up for an atrocious screenplay. The film consists of a wedding, a house burning, finding a new house, going off to battle, a birth and a major showdown with the dirty "Injuns" with no real connection between any of these scenes. Nothing the characters do advance the plot- everything bad that occurs to Fonda and Colbert just seems to "happen" to them and not because of the choices they make- and they don't grow at all as people. They remain one-dimensional stick figures from the beginning to the very end. Legendary character actress Edna May Oliver, who was brilliant in David Copperfield and should have won the Oscar for Pride and Prejudice, isn't given much "acting" to do either besides inject her usual no nonsense humor whenever she appears on screen.