Definitive biography of Rondo Hatton and The Brute Man. Exhaustive, moving, affectionate, not too long. I enjoyed it.
Showing posts with label Universal horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Universal horror. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 20, 2025
Book review - "Universal Terrors 1951-55" by Tom Weaver, David Schecter and Robert Kiss
Exhaustive. Thorough. Definitive. Probably best read in small chunks when watching the films.
Friday, September 01, 2023
Movie review - "House of Dracula" (1945) **1/2 (re-watching)
A film with plenty of style and charm - the monster, John Carradine, Lon Chaney as the Wolf Man - and some interesting additions like the hunchback assistant.
It's just frustrating what they don't do. I mean, who cares about Onslow Stevens, and why have him just as a random doctor - why not make him Dr Frankenstein, or a relative, or the invisible man. John Carradine or Lugosi should've played this role. I don't like Carradine as Dracula much but admit he's closer to Stoker.
Lionel Atwill is on hand, and Chaney is great. But the Monster is wasted, there's not enough Dracula or Wolfman... and as the film went on it started to annoy me. And I don't like that about these films.
Saturday, April 09, 2022
Movie review - "The Mad Ghoul" (1943) ***
Some second-tier names get a chance to shine - George Zucco as the psycho who uses Mayan zombie techniques to get David Bruce to commit murder so Zucco can woo Evelyn Ankers away from her paramour, pianist Turhan Bey.
Silly but spooky. Zucco commits as does the relatively little known Bruce. Ankers is pretty and you wish her part was bigger, as normal. Bey stays around looking handsome and soulful and not being killed. Maybe he should have played Zucco's part so Ankers actually fell for him and had Bruce kill someone else. Just a thought.
Friday, January 01, 2021
Movie review - "The Mummy" (2017) ** (re-viewing)
There are irritating things about the movie - Tom Cruise too old for his character, the female lead isn't up to the job (how about giving one of his old time leading ladies a gig), stock action, all the Dark Universe set up. But it's not the main problem.
The main problem is clear - Tom Cruise could be cut out of the movie. There's no connection between him and the mummy. He let her out but... so what?
If Tom had been the descendant of her old love and the mummy did it for love, you would have had a hit.
The film has no DNA.
I felt for the production people.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
The Cinema of Arthur Lubin
I once posted a top ten list on Facebook - I do this periodically to reclaim my feed against humblebrags, kid photos and anti-Trump rants - of the films I enjoyed re-watching no matter how many times. To my surprise, they included three from director Arthur Lubin: Buck Privates (1941), White Savage (1943) and Francis the Talking Mule (1950). Lubin, a director whose career even today defiantly resists auteur appreciation. Lubin, best known for talking animal films and putting Clint Eastwood under personal contract in the fifties but not making him a star. Lubin, the obscure, described by critics in such terms as "untroubled", ""untroubling", and "competent".
Yet should it be a surprise? Lubin films were a staple on midday Australian television in the eighties, when I was falling in love with movies - it's only natural they would have some impact on my brain. And he was a very skilled director. In 1941 Variety said he was Hollywood's most commercially successful director that year. He remained in demand for over four decades, he created whole genres, he launched Abbott and Costello and Turhan Bey as stars. Why not Lubin?
He began his career as an actor, and what's more began very young. Lubin was born in 1898 and started appearing in Sunday School productions when he was five. He joined music and drama clubs at high school, served as a water boy for touring theatre companies, then studied drama at Carnegie Tech, graduating in 1922. Lubin moved to New York to find work as an actor, but found the going difficult, so headed to Los Angeles, where he was soon busy appearing in films and on stage. His film credits include King Vidor's Barkley the Magnificent (1925) with John Gilbert, and he was part of a stage production of Desire Under the Elms that was shut down by police for obscenity. Lubin had a decent acting career but never quite reached the top rank, and over time seemed to lose enthusiasm for the craft; by the late twenties his thoughts were increasingly turning to directing. "Every director should have acting experience," he once said. "You can talk their language. You know their problems. You know how a scene should be acted."
Lubin directed plays in New York and Los Angeles (working with casts that included Paul Muni and Pauline Frederick), was as an assistant to William Le Baron at Paramount, then was offered a job directing features at lowly-ranked Monogram Pictures in 1932.
Lubin's first film as director was A Successful Failure (1934), a creaky comedy-drama about a doddery old reporter (William Collier) whose family treats him with contempt; he goes on to earns their respect by interrupting his son's communist rally, becoming a radio star and slut shaming his daughter (not making that up). These sort of worm-turns family dramas were surprisingly common in the thirties (Frank Capra made a bunch), and could be made watchable by strong actors and direction; however Successful Failure's cast was poor and Lubin's handling uneasy.
Both criticisms could also be made of his next two films: Great God Gold (1935), a melodrama about a stock broker who learns that Greed (in particular, firms that specialise in receiverships) is Bad; and Honeymoon Limited (1935), a comedy about an author who winds up in a lodge with cute kids and wacky crooks. Still, all three movies had their moments (for instance, Lubin was a superb director of children from the beginning) and he easily jumped over the low quality bar that was Monogram's standard for the time.
In 1935 the studio was merged (briefly, as it turned out) into Republic Pictures and Lubin signed a year long contract with the latter. While there he made three features: Two Sinners (1935), a man-out-of-prison melodrama; Frisco Waterfront (1935), a tale of the docks; and The House of a Thousand Candles (1936), a spies-in-Europe comedy thriller. I’ve only seen the latter - it is creaky and is hampered, as many Lubin films would be, by a lack of star power in the lead roles, which really should be played by stars, but it is quick and light and Lubin clearly has affection for his characters.
Lubin's boss at Monogram, Trem Carr, then accepted a contract to produce movies at Universal, a major studio which had just come under new management and was looking to revamp its operations. Carr took Lubin with him, and the director signed a contract with the studio in March 1936. Universal would be his main base for the next two decades.
Lubin's early directorial work at Universal consisted of low budget programmers, usually shot in one-to-two weeks, rarely going for more than an hour and with B/C/D list stars. But the studio had more resources than Monogram so budgets were larger and the films looked better with stronger casts, scripts and production values.
Lubin started with Yellowstone (1936), a decent thriller notable for its weak leads, robust support cast and incorporation of location photography at Yellowstone National Park. He then made Mysterious Crossing (1937), followed by a series of action stories with a pre-Stagecoach John Wayne, none of which were Westerns: California Straight Ahead! (1937) (Wayne as a trucker), I Cover the War! (1937) (Wayne as a newsreel cameraman), Idol of the Crowds (1937) (Wayne as a hockey player), and Adventure's End (1937) (Wayne as a sailor). The films performed disappointingly at the box office, sending Wayne scurrying back to Westerns - which is a surprise since they are entertaining, unpretentious and hold up surprising well, packing in a lot of plot for their sixty minutes, and demonstrating that Lubin could handle physical stories, though he was never that comfortable with action (he once said "I would never know how to do an automobile chase”, which wasn’t true, but over time he would show a preference for comedies and thrillers more than anything else).
Lubin went straight into Midnight Intruder (1938), which is terrific fun, a fast-paced, bright entertainment starring Louis Hayward as a gambler who poses as the son of a wealthy woman and gets involved in a murder case; the performances are full of energy, and it rockets along for its 67 minute running time. Lubin was coming into his own as director.
Warners borrowed him for The Beloved Brat (1938), an entertaining star vehicle for Bonita Granville, playing a poor little rich girl who sets her room on fire, accidentally kills a motorist by grabbing the wheel of a speeding car, sends the racist family butler to prison for the crime by perjuring herself on the stand, is sent to reform school and... actually reforms. Based on a story by Jean Negulesco, the movie is of cultural interest in that it shows a black mother character to be a far superior parent to Granville's parents, and Granville's best friend is a black boy. (Having said that black characters other than maids were rare in Lubin's entire output, with the notable exception of New Orleans (1947).)
Lubin then did Prison Break (1938), a Warner Bros-style innocent-man-accused-of-crime-goes-to-prison tale that was made at Universal, starring Barton MacLane; like most of Lubin's movies from this time it is stacked to the brim with plot, and the director punches it through. He stayed at Universal for Secrets of a Nurse (1938) with Edmund Lowe, Newsboys' Home (1938) with Jackie Cooper, Risky Business (1939) with George Murphy, and Big Town Czar (1939) with MacLane. He went to Republic for Mickey the Kid (1939) with Ralph Cabot, then back to Universal for Call a Messenger (1939), which united the Dead End Kids with The Little Tough Guys, and The Big Guy (1939) with Victor McLaglen and Cooper. Few of these movie are remembered today - I would argue this was more due to their lack of star power and exposure on television in later years rather than quality because almost all of them remain very watchable.
Lubin's first film to have any kind of lasting legacy was Black Friday (1940), which is sought out by many buffs because it features both Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, though neither share a scene together. It's a sort of gangster-horror film that involves a brain transplant (Curt Siodmak, who worked on the script, loved brain transplants). Stanley Ridges plays a part clearly meant for Karloff with Karloff playing a role that should have been played by Lugosi and Lugosi being wasted in a part that could have been played by anyone. The film is no classic but it is crisp and no-nonsense, taking advantage of Universal's studio resources, with excellent tempo; Joe Dante later commented it was more like a Warner Bros film in that respect than a Universal one, a judgement that could be made of many Lubin movies from this period.
A case in point was Gangs of Chicago (1940), a classy B which Lubin made back at Republic, starring Lloyd Nolan as a gangster who gets a law degree to commit crime more effectively only to have second thoughts due to his love for childhood friend Ray Middleton.
Lubin returned to Universal for Meet the Wildcat (1940), a really fun mystery comedy with Margaret Lindsay in superb form as a photographer convinced Ralph Bellamy (miscast, trying to channel Cary Grant) is an art thief. He followed it with I'm Nobody's Sweetheart Now (1940), a cheerful comedy with footballer Dennis O'Keefe pretending to date Helen Parrish for the sake of his father's political career; it's so briskly done and well acted that it doesn't hit you until the movie's almost over how selfish the lead couple are - Lubin's empathy for all his characters possibly threw this off balance because all the audience sympathy goes to the partners of O'Keefe and Parrish.
Lubin went to Republic for Who Killed Aunt Maggie? (1940), then returned to Universal for The San Fransisco Docks (1940) with Burgess Meredith and Where Did You Get That Girl? (1941) with Leon Errol. The latter was a joyous, breezy, silly musical made with predominantly young talent; you can feel Lubin being in complete charge of the material and having a ball. A 1942 profile described him as "personally intense, but an easy boss to his casts. He is friendly and witty. Players like to work for him. He strives to keep them relaxed for the cameras. Holding a pow-wow before rehearsing a scene, he will frequently sit cross legged on the floor with the players seated about him. But when the camera starts going, so does Lubin. He is a pacer... He pantomimed all the parts."
Considering this, it's not surprising Universal assigned Lubin to direct a hot new comedy team from burlesque, Abbott and Costello, in their first starring vehicle, Buck Privates (1941). The studio would have been hopeful for a positive response but no one expected the film to become the blockbuster it did - earning over $4 million for a cost of $245,000, establishing the leads as the third most popular stars in the country, and changing Lubin from "just another camera flagger" (to quote Variety) to one of the Universal's leading directors.
It's become fashionable in later years among Abbott and Costello aficionados to decry Buck Privates - purists complain about all those Andrews Sisters numbers and the time devoted to a "straight" love triangle. Hold That Ghost (1941) and especially Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) are more highly regarded by buffs. But I think it's terrific - in part because of that love triangle (which is very well acted) and the Andrews Sisters, but also because Abbott and Costello were rarely so energetic. They're in top form with brilliant routines, and Lubin treats it all with the perfect light touch.
He directed the next four efforts from the team - Hold That Ghost (1941), In the Navy (1941), Ride 'Em Cowboy (1942) and Keep 'Em Flying (1942) (they were released in a different order to how they were shot). All but Keep 'Em Flying are first-rate entertainments - fast, polished, clean, with decent storylines, strong casts, and well-staged musical interludes. Abbott and Costello had two golden periods as movie stars; the second was under Charles Barton - from The Time of Their Lives (1946) to Abbott and Costello Meets Frankenstein - but the first was those films with Lubin. They are still incredibly entertaining, and it's a shame the director never worked with the team after 1942.
At a "classier" studio like, say, Paramount, Lubin's comedy success may have seen him pigeonholed, but at Universal in the forties, where profits depended on Deanna Durbin musicals, horror flicks, and south sea adventure tales, he was treated with respect. They assigned him to an expensive war film, Eagle Squadron (1942), produced by Walter Wanger in colour with Diana Barrymore and Robert Stack; it was another big hit and established Lubin on the "A" list.
Universal gave him three of the studio's other new stars, Maria Montez, Jon Hall and Sabu, for White Savage (1943). This was one of a series of exotic adventures shot in colour set in some corner of the globe where Montez typically played a princess who'd wear a series of outfits and be rescued by Hall and sidekick Sabu. Not as well known as Montez's later camp classic Cobra Woman (1944) (to be fair, all her American films are camp classics), White Savage is actually a better movie - Montez and Hall seem to genuinely like each other (not always the case in their films), Richard Brooks' script is clever and there's plenty of action and gorgeous photography.
Lubin was reunited with Montez and Hall for Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves (1944) which isn't as good as White Savage but is still bright fun. Turhan Bey, who played Montez's brother in Savage steps into the role meant for Sabu, and his casting throws the movie off -Sabu was a big kid but Bey is more mature, suave, grown up, with careful pro-noun-ci-ation – Sabu was never a sexual rival to Hall but Bey he could be and Lubin gives him all these close ups of him looking dreamy (the director and Lubin had clearly decided to build him into a star). It was clearly just the tonic for audiences after a hard day at the munitions factory - the public turned up in droves, and the film has never stopped playing on television.
In between these films Universal gave Lubin his biggest budget to date with a remake of The Phantom of the Opera (1943), the classic horror tale that was a cross between two of Universal's most successful genres: horror and Deanna Durbin musicals. The project was originally conceived for Durbin who turned it down, replaced by Susannah Foster. The story was reconfigured as a musical more than a horror saga, with as much time given to the singing of Foster and Nelson Eddy as to the villainy of Claude Rains. Once you accept that, this works well on its own terms and Lubin's touch is assured; it looks splendid and was hugely popular.
Around this time Lubin also made two propaganda shorts for the US government. Keeping Fit (1942) was a ten minute treatise on the benefits of eating well and exercising, and notable mostly for the large number of Universal contract stars who appeared (including Robert Stack, Broderick Crawford and Lon Chaney Jnr. Far more interesting was a 22 minute dramatised documentary he made with Wanger, To the People of the United States (1944), which warned about the dangers of syphilis. It starred Jean Hersholt and a young Robert Mitchum, as well as US Surgeon General Thomas Parran, who was a notable warrior in the war against the social disease (though not always an ethical one - he was partly behind the Tuskegee and Guatemalan syphilis experiments, where carriers were observed for years without being told they had the disease... and in hindsight Parran's eyes in the film do seem to have a fanatical gleam about them).
To the People of the United States is the sort of doco that is easy to laugh at ("syphilis - say it!") but actually has a fine message: don't be ashamed if you're infected, look to science rather than urban legend, get tested and treated, follow the example of Denmark when it comes to sex education. This is all sensible stuff, and accordingly offended the Catholic Legion of Decency who felt the film should have said the leading cause of syphilis was promiscuity, and used their influence to stop the film from being distributed in commercial theatres. It was nonetheless nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Short Subject in 1944, losing to John Ford's December 7th (1943).
Towards the end of the war, Lubin's career suffered a few missteps. He was loaned to United Artists for a Jane Powell musical: Delightfully Dangerous (1945), produced by Charles Rogers, his old boss at Universal. The movie is dull and sluggish, with a poor script and inadequate casting (apart from the surprisingly un-annoying Powell, who, in her memoirs, calls it the worst film she ever made). Lubin later said "I feel the writer is the least credited person in our business. If you haven't got a good script, you can put John Barrymore in a picture and audiences still won't like it." He was no screenwriter himself, incidentally, and never learned the ability to write his way out of trouble on a movie. But he also felt "Too many directors are former writers. They have the scene in their mind but they don't know what the actor has to do to interpret it."
Back at Universal Lubin was forced to do a horror film, The Spider Woman Strikes Back (1946), meant to be the first in a series of movies starring the titular character (played by Gale Sondegaard), who had made her debut in Sherlock Holmes and the Spider Woman (1943). Despite starring horror icons Sondegaard and Rondo Hatton, Strikes Back was poorly received and helped kill off Universal’s second horror cycle. And it's a poor movie - a confused script and inadequate casting of support roles are mostly to blame but, it must be admitted, Lubin did not seem to have a particular feel/affinity for horror material. He was probably too upbeat and happy a person - no James Whale gloominess for him.
Lubin then made Night in Paradise (1946), an expensive Eastern fantasy with Merle Oberon and Turhan Bey. This is painful to watch, one of Lubin's worst movies; those Maria Montez-Jon Hall films were full of movement and pace but Paradise is basically a lot of hanging around a palace, relying on its two leads to provide star power they simply didn't have. In a year where 90 million Americans went to the movies once a week, the film managed to lose $800,000 and killed Bey's career as a leading man. Universal terminated Lubin's contract.
Lubin did not flounder, as many studio directors did when kicked out into the cold. He started developing his own material and went the independent route, making two movies for United Artists, New Orleans (1947) and Impact (1949).
New Orleans is the only film appearance for Billie Holiday, who notoriously plays a maid, albeit one who becomes a singing star; it's one of those movies where critics generally go "the music's great but everything else is terrible and isn't Hollywood racist" which is basically true - but it was 1947, what did people expect? At least there is a lot of music, Louis Armstrong and Dorothy Patrick are charming, it's fascinating to see Holliday in a movie and I love how in the story her character marries Armstrong's. Also Lubin seems to have genuine affection for the characters and the music - it's much better than his previous three features.
So was Impact, a solid film noir with a decent cast and typically brisk handling; Lubin may not have been strong with horror, which depened heavily on mood, but with thrillers, which benefited from speed, he was fine.
Both films were well received but it was Lubin's next project which set the tone for his career over the next two decades. He found a novel about a talking mule, optioned the rights and succeeded in setting it up at Universal, who liked the fact it was inexpensive and would provide a role for Donald O'Connor. It's unlikely even Lubin would have predicted the enormous success of Francis the Talking Mule (1950), which led to six sequels, of which all except the last were directed by Lubin. These movies were a guilty pleasure for me growing up and time hasn't given them much legitimacy or lessened the joy they provide. Lubin's handling is always sure and confident, and they contain some genuinely hilarious moments and sensational performances from O'Connor and Chill Wills (who voiced Francis). Admittedly the structure gets repetitive - generally in first half hour everyone thinks Donald O’Connor is mad, then Francis talks to someone, there's another half hour of people thinking they’re mad, then Francis talks to a few more people, then another half hour and more allegations of madness, the Francis talks to everyone.
The film's success re-established Lubin as a force - well, kind of a force - in Hollywood and got him a two-picture-a-year deal at Universal. For the next five years he alternated Francis movies with other projects: Francis, then Queen for a Day (1951), an anthology film based on a quiz show, which told three separate stories, for United Artists ; Francis Goes to the Races (1951), then Rhubarb (1951), a comedy at Paramount about a cat that inherits a baseball team; Francis Goes to West Point (1952), then It Grows on Trees (1952), a comedy with Irene Dunne at Universal; Francis Covers the Big Town (1953), then South Sea Woman (1953), a south seas adventure tale with Burt Lancaster at Warners; Francis Joins the WACS (1954), then Star of India (1954), a period swashbuckler with Cornel Wilde shot in Italy for UA; Francis in the Navy (1955), then Footsteps in the Fog (1955), a gothic thriller with Stewart Granger shot in England for Columbia.
For me the best in the Francis series was Francis Covers the Big Town (1954). Let's look at the non-Francis output in a little more detail…
Queen for a Day was sometimes known as Horsie, but it wasn't an animal film - that was the title of the anthology's third segment, about an infant's nurse who had a face like a horse. It was based on a story by Dorothy Parker, whose satirical point about beauty is muted in this adaptation - perhaps Lubin was too “nice” a director to do it justice. The other stories are warmly done (a child gets polio, an immigrant's son does a high dive for money) but put together they don't t quite work as a movie - maybe it would've been better had Lubin been restricted to a 65 minute running time like in the old days.
Rhubarb was a bright comedy which Lubin had developed himself then sold to Paramount.There are some funny moments though the director can't overcome the main problem of all live action movies about cats - namely, their personality doesn't come across screen. There's no strong relationship between Rhubarb and Ray Milland so the film feels hollow at its core in a way the Francis movies never did.
The film is played straight but It Goes on Trees - which again Lubin had packaged with his own money before on-selling to a studio - is a fantasy like Francis where Irene Dunne discovers a tree that grows money; it is effective and entertaining though very "Eisenhower era" and I kept wishing Dunne's husband was played by a movie star rather than Dean Jagger.
South Sea Woman needed to be in colour but is highly spirited fun, which benefits from Lancaster at his toothy, swaggering best. Star of India should have been good - it has Italian locations and Cornel Wilde had appeared in some decent swashbucklers - but is sunk by a silly script.
Much better is Footsteps in the Fog, an unpretentious, enjoyable little thriller - so many Lubin films can be called "unpretentious, enjoyable little [insert genre]" - where Stewart Granger is always trying to kill Jean Simmons and she never stops thinking he's wonderful. The director had developed this for a number of years to avoid being typecast as a comedy specialist; it doesn't hit great expressionistic heights but is lots of fun, and it's a shame box office receptions weren't strong enough to allow him do more work in this line. (Incidentally the script was co written by Dorothy Reid, Lubin’s most regular writer, who worked with him on an off throughout his career; she was best known for being the widow of Wallace Reid, the first notable Hollywood movie star to die of a drug overdose, always overshone her genuine achievements as a filmmaker.)
Lubin's second stint at Universal ended with the box office failure of Lady Godiva (1955). Why this movie tanked compared to other colourful costume periods of the time is a mystery - it's bright and cheerful and stars Maureen O'Hara in all her red haired glory (she does the final ride in a body stocking, in case you're wondering). Maybe more screen time should have been devoted to her rather than her leading man, Universal's back up Jeff Chandler, George Nader, but I've always liked this movie - like so much of Lubin's output, it was perfect Saturday afternoon TV fodder when I was growing up.
The cast included Clint Eastwood, a young actor who was put under personal contract to Lubin in the mid fifties, and turned up in several of his films. Lubin gave Eastwood some of the actor's best early roles (that isn't saying much) including parts in two films the director made for RKO, The First Travelling Saleslady (1956) and Escapade in Japan (1957). This led to plenty of urban legends that the handsome Eastwood sold his body to Lubin, ignoring the fact that the director may simply have just had an eye for talent. On the other hand, Lubin did get Eastwood to do his screen test wearing nothing but a jockstrap, and would buy him suits and take him out for dinner... Still, there is no proof the relationship was anything other than totally professional. There was never any scandal attached to Lubin during his life and career, in contrast with other gay directors of his time such as Mitchell Leisen, Edmund Goulding and Irving Rapper (or straight directors such as Roman Polanski, Charlie Chaplin, and so on).
While we're on the gay thing - and we may as well deal with it, in this era of queer film studies - Lubin would probably rank amongst the least analysed gay directors from Hollywood's Golden Age. He was not known for "women's pictures" and no one's made a James Whale/George Cukor case about him sneaking in coded messages past the censor, even though he made films with such camp icons as Maria Montez and Steve Reeves. True, Lloyd Nolan appears to be in love with Ray Middleton in Gangs of Chicago and Burt Lancaster seems more interested in Chuck Connors than Virginia Mayo in South Sea Woman, but that was entirely typical of those respective genres (boyhood-friends-grow-up-on-opposite-sides-of-law gangster film and buddy action comedy). Historian William Mann described Lubin as "an ordinary workhorse", one of those filmmakers who were "gay but not transgressive, outsiders who nonetheless felt in many ways already in, who harbored no need to challenge, to provoke, to do anything other than live out their lives quietly and amenably, with a balance of conformity and integrity." That's not to deny Lubin's legitimacy and/or skill as a filmmaker - it just means you're less likely to find PhDs done on him.
Lubin's two RKO movies failed commercially. Saleslady is a classic example of a film that should work but simply doesn't, lacking the consistency and pace of his earlier movies. Escapade suffered from being a kids film at a time when Disney were beginning to monopolise that market. Incidentally, Eastwood broke away from Lubin before the actor was cast in Rawhide and kept his distance from the director over the next few decades… but called Lubin for a chat about old times when Eastwood was nominated for an Oscar for The Unforgiven (1992).
Coming off a series of flop movies, Lubin turned to episodic television, easily adapting to the shorter schedules and fast pace, helming over 500 hours of shows such as Maverick, Bonanza and Adventures in Paradise. His one last huge success would be on the small screen: Mister Ed (1961-66).
Lubin had wanted to make a TV show based on the Francis movies but Universal were not interested; cunning Lubin then looked around to buy the rights to a 1937 book of stories about a talking book that predated the Francis source material (David Stern's 1946 novel) and turned it into Mr Ed. (This is a perfect example of what to do if you're having trouble securing IP - you just buy a similar work that predates it so no one can accuse you of ripping it off even though you are). No network would back the project but George Burns agreed to personally finance a pilot and Lubin succeeded in selling the show into syndication before CBS picked it up. The two lead roles were cast beautifully - Alan Young as Wilbur and Allan Lane as the voice of Mister Ed - and the series ran for 143 episodes, and is still being re-run today.
By the sixties Lubin had earned more than enough money to retire, but he loved to work, so continued to direct other television shows as well as feature films. In between making the Mr Ed pilot and series he spent months in Italy and Africa doing a Steve Reeves "Eastern", The Thief of Baghdad (1961), which has bright colours and Tunisian locations but is hurt by a wonky screenplay and uncertainty how much fantasy to put in.
Over a summer break for Mr Ed Lubin made the part-animated Don Knotts fish comedy, The Incredible Mr Limpet (1964) which is overlong and clearly budget challenged but full of charm, and is reminiscent of the Francis movies. Since the nineties several stars and directors such as Jim Carey and Rickard Linklater have been interested in remaking this movie and you can see why - it's an extremely likeable story.
After Ed wound up Lubin did a Herman's Hermits vehicle for producer Sam Katzman at MGM, Hold On! (1966). Shelley Fabares is wasted and the film's quality is a long way from A Hard Day's Night (1964) which it clearly apes, but it is full of high spirits and features eleven Herman's Hermits tunes, and lead singer Peter Noone regarded this is the favourite of the three movies made by the band.
Lubin's last feature was a drama shot in Spain, Rain for a Dusty Summer (1971) - this is sometimes called a spaghetti Western, but it isn't really... It's more a priest-on-the-run story, where a guitar-playing man of the cloth tries to escape army prosecution during the 1917 Mexican Revolution. This film's a hard slog, badly dubbed and veers wildly in tone (one minute the priest is in drag, the next he's being executed by firing squad). It's very pro-Catholic, as if Lubin was trying to make amends to the Legion of Decency for To the People of the United States by making a a bad Leo McCarey movie. He later said he only ever directed eight flops in his career - this was surely one of them. But to be fair, most directors wind up with a whimper rather than a bang at the end.
Lubin directed some TV specials in the late seventies before retiring, probably through lack of offers and age-ism than any lessening of desire. He lived to a ripe old age in the Hollywood Hills, then had a stroke in December 1995, after which he moved into a nursing home, where he died in May 1996 (possibly mercy killed by a nurse, though it's never been proven - this does put a downer on things, but I felt I had to mention it, and how someone dies shouldn't take over how we judge how they lived).
Lubin described himself as a happy person and this is reflected in his films. He wanted to entertain. He kept things fast. He didn't go too dark. He deliberately tried to have no "style". That's not the sort of attitude that's going to earn you a lot of critical respect but it did bring him constant employment and money, as well as the gratitude of countless cinemagoers and TV viewers. Lubin sometimes wondered maybe he'd be better off if he'd done less less and better work... but I don't think that was in his nature - he was a compulsive worker rather than a David Lean/Kubrick style tinkerer. I think he was terrific and he should be better known.
Yet should it be a surprise? Lubin films were a staple on midday Australian television in the eighties, when I was falling in love with movies - it's only natural they would have some impact on my brain. And he was a very skilled director. In 1941 Variety said he was Hollywood's most commercially successful director that year. He remained in demand for over four decades, he created whole genres, he launched Abbott and Costello and Turhan Bey as stars. Why not Lubin?
He began his career as an actor, and what's more began very young. Lubin was born in 1898 and started appearing in Sunday School productions when he was five. He joined music and drama clubs at high school, served as a water boy for touring theatre companies, then studied drama at Carnegie Tech, graduating in 1922. Lubin moved to New York to find work as an actor, but found the going difficult, so headed to Los Angeles, where he was soon busy appearing in films and on stage. His film credits include King Vidor's Barkley the Magnificent (1925) with John Gilbert, and he was part of a stage production of Desire Under the Elms that was shut down by police for obscenity. Lubin had a decent acting career but never quite reached the top rank, and over time seemed to lose enthusiasm for the craft; by the late twenties his thoughts were increasingly turning to directing. "Every director should have acting experience," he once said. "You can talk their language. You know their problems. You know how a scene should be acted."
Lubin directed plays in New York and Los Angeles (working with casts that included Paul Muni and Pauline Frederick), was as an assistant to William Le Baron at Paramount, then was offered a job directing features at lowly-ranked Monogram Pictures in 1932.
Lubin's first film as director was A Successful Failure (1934), a creaky comedy-drama about a doddery old reporter (William Collier) whose family treats him with contempt; he goes on to earns their respect by interrupting his son's communist rally, becoming a radio star and slut shaming his daughter (not making that up). These sort of worm-turns family dramas were surprisingly common in the thirties (Frank Capra made a bunch), and could be made watchable by strong actors and direction; however Successful Failure's cast was poor and Lubin's handling uneasy.
Both criticisms could also be made of his next two films: Great God Gold (1935), a melodrama about a stock broker who learns that Greed (in particular, firms that specialise in receiverships) is Bad; and Honeymoon Limited (1935), a comedy about an author who winds up in a lodge with cute kids and wacky crooks. Still, all three movies had their moments (for instance, Lubin was a superb director of children from the beginning) and he easily jumped over the low quality bar that was Monogram's standard for the time.
In 1935 the studio was merged (briefly, as it turned out) into Republic Pictures and Lubin signed a year long contract with the latter. While there he made three features: Two Sinners (1935), a man-out-of-prison melodrama; Frisco Waterfront (1935), a tale of the docks; and The House of a Thousand Candles (1936), a spies-in-Europe comedy thriller. I’ve only seen the latter - it is creaky and is hampered, as many Lubin films would be, by a lack of star power in the lead roles, which really should be played by stars, but it is quick and light and Lubin clearly has affection for his characters.
Lubin's boss at Monogram, Trem Carr, then accepted a contract to produce movies at Universal, a major studio which had just come under new management and was looking to revamp its operations. Carr took Lubin with him, and the director signed a contract with the studio in March 1936. Universal would be his main base for the next two decades.
Lubin's early directorial work at Universal consisted of low budget programmers, usually shot in one-to-two weeks, rarely going for more than an hour and with B/C/D list stars. But the studio had more resources than Monogram so budgets were larger and the films looked better with stronger casts, scripts and production values.
Lubin started with Yellowstone (1936), a decent thriller notable for its weak leads, robust support cast and incorporation of location photography at Yellowstone National Park. He then made Mysterious Crossing (1937), followed by a series of action stories with a pre-Stagecoach John Wayne, none of which were Westerns: California Straight Ahead! (1937) (Wayne as a trucker), I Cover the War! (1937) (Wayne as a newsreel cameraman), Idol of the Crowds (1937) (Wayne as a hockey player), and Adventure's End (1937) (Wayne as a sailor). The films performed disappointingly at the box office, sending Wayne scurrying back to Westerns - which is a surprise since they are entertaining, unpretentious and hold up surprising well, packing in a lot of plot for their sixty minutes, and demonstrating that Lubin could handle physical stories, though he was never that comfortable with action (he once said "I would never know how to do an automobile chase”, which wasn’t true, but over time he would show a preference for comedies and thrillers more than anything else).
Lubin went straight into Midnight Intruder (1938), which is terrific fun, a fast-paced, bright entertainment starring Louis Hayward as a gambler who poses as the son of a wealthy woman and gets involved in a murder case; the performances are full of energy, and it rockets along for its 67 minute running time. Lubin was coming into his own as director.
Warners borrowed him for The Beloved Brat (1938), an entertaining star vehicle for Bonita Granville, playing a poor little rich girl who sets her room on fire, accidentally kills a motorist by grabbing the wheel of a speeding car, sends the racist family butler to prison for the crime by perjuring herself on the stand, is sent to reform school and... actually reforms. Based on a story by Jean Negulesco, the movie is of cultural interest in that it shows a black mother character to be a far superior parent to Granville's parents, and Granville's best friend is a black boy. (Having said that black characters other than maids were rare in Lubin's entire output, with the notable exception of New Orleans (1947).)
Lubin then did Prison Break (1938), a Warner Bros-style innocent-man-accused-of-crime-goes-to-prison tale that was made at Universal, starring Barton MacLane; like most of Lubin's movies from this time it is stacked to the brim with plot, and the director punches it through. He stayed at Universal for Secrets of a Nurse (1938) with Edmund Lowe, Newsboys' Home (1938) with Jackie Cooper, Risky Business (1939) with George Murphy, and Big Town Czar (1939) with MacLane. He went to Republic for Mickey the Kid (1939) with Ralph Cabot, then back to Universal for Call a Messenger (1939), which united the Dead End Kids with The Little Tough Guys, and The Big Guy (1939) with Victor McLaglen and Cooper. Few of these movie are remembered today - I would argue this was more due to their lack of star power and exposure on television in later years rather than quality because almost all of them remain very watchable.
Lubin's first film to have any kind of lasting legacy was Black Friday (1940), which is sought out by many buffs because it features both Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, though neither share a scene together. It's a sort of gangster-horror film that involves a brain transplant (Curt Siodmak, who worked on the script, loved brain transplants). Stanley Ridges plays a part clearly meant for Karloff with Karloff playing a role that should have been played by Lugosi and Lugosi being wasted in a part that could have been played by anyone. The film is no classic but it is crisp and no-nonsense, taking advantage of Universal's studio resources, with excellent tempo; Joe Dante later commented it was more like a Warner Bros film in that respect than a Universal one, a judgement that could be made of many Lubin movies from this period.
A case in point was Gangs of Chicago (1940), a classy B which Lubin made back at Republic, starring Lloyd Nolan as a gangster who gets a law degree to commit crime more effectively only to have second thoughts due to his love for childhood friend Ray Middleton.
Lubin returned to Universal for Meet the Wildcat (1940), a really fun mystery comedy with Margaret Lindsay in superb form as a photographer convinced Ralph Bellamy (miscast, trying to channel Cary Grant) is an art thief. He followed it with I'm Nobody's Sweetheart Now (1940), a cheerful comedy with footballer Dennis O'Keefe pretending to date Helen Parrish for the sake of his father's political career; it's so briskly done and well acted that it doesn't hit you until the movie's almost over how selfish the lead couple are - Lubin's empathy for all his characters possibly threw this off balance because all the audience sympathy goes to the partners of O'Keefe and Parrish.
Lubin went to Republic for Who Killed Aunt Maggie? (1940), then returned to Universal for The San Fransisco Docks (1940) with Burgess Meredith and Where Did You Get That Girl? (1941) with Leon Errol. The latter was a joyous, breezy, silly musical made with predominantly young talent; you can feel Lubin being in complete charge of the material and having a ball. A 1942 profile described him as "personally intense, but an easy boss to his casts. He is friendly and witty. Players like to work for him. He strives to keep them relaxed for the cameras. Holding a pow-wow before rehearsing a scene, he will frequently sit cross legged on the floor with the players seated about him. But when the camera starts going, so does Lubin. He is a pacer... He pantomimed all the parts."
Considering this, it's not surprising Universal assigned Lubin to direct a hot new comedy team from burlesque, Abbott and Costello, in their first starring vehicle, Buck Privates (1941). The studio would have been hopeful for a positive response but no one expected the film to become the blockbuster it did - earning over $4 million for a cost of $245,000, establishing the leads as the third most popular stars in the country, and changing Lubin from "just another camera flagger" (to quote Variety) to one of the Universal's leading directors.
It's become fashionable in later years among Abbott and Costello aficionados to decry Buck Privates - purists complain about all those Andrews Sisters numbers and the time devoted to a "straight" love triangle. Hold That Ghost (1941) and especially Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) are more highly regarded by buffs. But I think it's terrific - in part because of that love triangle (which is very well acted) and the Andrews Sisters, but also because Abbott and Costello were rarely so energetic. They're in top form with brilliant routines, and Lubin treats it all with the perfect light touch.
He directed the next four efforts from the team - Hold That Ghost (1941), In the Navy (1941), Ride 'Em Cowboy (1942) and Keep 'Em Flying (1942) (they were released in a different order to how they were shot). All but Keep 'Em Flying are first-rate entertainments - fast, polished, clean, with decent storylines, strong casts, and well-staged musical interludes. Abbott and Costello had two golden periods as movie stars; the second was under Charles Barton - from The Time of Their Lives (1946) to Abbott and Costello Meets Frankenstein - but the first was those films with Lubin. They are still incredibly entertaining, and it's a shame the director never worked with the team after 1942.
At a "classier" studio like, say, Paramount, Lubin's comedy success may have seen him pigeonholed, but at Universal in the forties, where profits depended on Deanna Durbin musicals, horror flicks, and south sea adventure tales, he was treated with respect. They assigned him to an expensive war film, Eagle Squadron (1942), produced by Walter Wanger in colour with Diana Barrymore and Robert Stack; it was another big hit and established Lubin on the "A" list.
Universal gave him three of the studio's other new stars, Maria Montez, Jon Hall and Sabu, for White Savage (1943). This was one of a series of exotic adventures shot in colour set in some corner of the globe where Montez typically played a princess who'd wear a series of outfits and be rescued by Hall and sidekick Sabu. Not as well known as Montez's later camp classic Cobra Woman (1944) (to be fair, all her American films are camp classics), White Savage is actually a better movie - Montez and Hall seem to genuinely like each other (not always the case in their films), Richard Brooks' script is clever and there's plenty of action and gorgeous photography.
Lubin was reunited with Montez and Hall for Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves (1944) which isn't as good as White Savage but is still bright fun. Turhan Bey, who played Montez's brother in Savage steps into the role meant for Sabu, and his casting throws the movie off -Sabu was a big kid but Bey is more mature, suave, grown up, with careful pro-noun-ci-ation – Sabu was never a sexual rival to Hall but Bey he could be and Lubin gives him all these close ups of him looking dreamy (the director and Lubin had clearly decided to build him into a star). It was clearly just the tonic for audiences after a hard day at the munitions factory - the public turned up in droves, and the film has never stopped playing on television.
In between these films Universal gave Lubin his biggest budget to date with a remake of The Phantom of the Opera (1943), the classic horror tale that was a cross between two of Universal's most successful genres: horror and Deanna Durbin musicals. The project was originally conceived for Durbin who turned it down, replaced by Susannah Foster. The story was reconfigured as a musical more than a horror saga, with as much time given to the singing of Foster and Nelson Eddy as to the villainy of Claude Rains. Once you accept that, this works well on its own terms and Lubin's touch is assured; it looks splendid and was hugely popular.
Around this time Lubin also made two propaganda shorts for the US government. Keeping Fit (1942) was a ten minute treatise on the benefits of eating well and exercising, and notable mostly for the large number of Universal contract stars who appeared (including Robert Stack, Broderick Crawford and Lon Chaney Jnr. Far more interesting was a 22 minute dramatised documentary he made with Wanger, To the People of the United States (1944), which warned about the dangers of syphilis. It starred Jean Hersholt and a young Robert Mitchum, as well as US Surgeon General Thomas Parran, who was a notable warrior in the war against the social disease (though not always an ethical one - he was partly behind the Tuskegee and Guatemalan syphilis experiments, where carriers were observed for years without being told they had the disease... and in hindsight Parran's eyes in the film do seem to have a fanatical gleam about them).
To the People of the United States is the sort of doco that is easy to laugh at ("syphilis - say it!") but actually has a fine message: don't be ashamed if you're infected, look to science rather than urban legend, get tested and treated, follow the example of Denmark when it comes to sex education. This is all sensible stuff, and accordingly offended the Catholic Legion of Decency who felt the film should have said the leading cause of syphilis was promiscuity, and used their influence to stop the film from being distributed in commercial theatres. It was nonetheless nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Short Subject in 1944, losing to John Ford's December 7th (1943).
Towards the end of the war, Lubin's career suffered a few missteps. He was loaned to United Artists for a Jane Powell musical: Delightfully Dangerous (1945), produced by Charles Rogers, his old boss at Universal. The movie is dull and sluggish, with a poor script and inadequate casting (apart from the surprisingly un-annoying Powell, who, in her memoirs, calls it the worst film she ever made). Lubin later said "I feel the writer is the least credited person in our business. If you haven't got a good script, you can put John Barrymore in a picture and audiences still won't like it." He was no screenwriter himself, incidentally, and never learned the ability to write his way out of trouble on a movie. But he also felt "Too many directors are former writers. They have the scene in their mind but they don't know what the actor has to do to interpret it."
Back at Universal Lubin was forced to do a horror film, The Spider Woman Strikes Back (1946), meant to be the first in a series of movies starring the titular character (played by Gale Sondegaard), who had made her debut in Sherlock Holmes and the Spider Woman (1943). Despite starring horror icons Sondegaard and Rondo Hatton, Strikes Back was poorly received and helped kill off Universal’s second horror cycle. And it's a poor movie - a confused script and inadequate casting of support roles are mostly to blame but, it must be admitted, Lubin did not seem to have a particular feel/affinity for horror material. He was probably too upbeat and happy a person - no James Whale gloominess for him.
Lubin then made Night in Paradise (1946), an expensive Eastern fantasy with Merle Oberon and Turhan Bey. This is painful to watch, one of Lubin's worst movies; those Maria Montez-Jon Hall films were full of movement and pace but Paradise is basically a lot of hanging around a palace, relying on its two leads to provide star power they simply didn't have. In a year where 90 million Americans went to the movies once a week, the film managed to lose $800,000 and killed Bey's career as a leading man. Universal terminated Lubin's contract.
Lubin did not flounder, as many studio directors did when kicked out into the cold. He started developing his own material and went the independent route, making two movies for United Artists, New Orleans (1947) and Impact (1949).
New Orleans is the only film appearance for Billie Holiday, who notoriously plays a maid, albeit one who becomes a singing star; it's one of those movies where critics generally go "the music's great but everything else is terrible and isn't Hollywood racist" which is basically true - but it was 1947, what did people expect? At least there is a lot of music, Louis Armstrong and Dorothy Patrick are charming, it's fascinating to see Holliday in a movie and I love how in the story her character marries Armstrong's. Also Lubin seems to have genuine affection for the characters and the music - it's much better than his previous three features.
So was Impact, a solid film noir with a decent cast and typically brisk handling; Lubin may not have been strong with horror, which depened heavily on mood, but with thrillers, which benefited from speed, he was fine.
Both films were well received but it was Lubin's next project which set the tone for his career over the next two decades. He found a novel about a talking mule, optioned the rights and succeeded in setting it up at Universal, who liked the fact it was inexpensive and would provide a role for Donald O'Connor. It's unlikely even Lubin would have predicted the enormous success of Francis the Talking Mule (1950), which led to six sequels, of which all except the last were directed by Lubin. These movies were a guilty pleasure for me growing up and time hasn't given them much legitimacy or lessened the joy they provide. Lubin's handling is always sure and confident, and they contain some genuinely hilarious moments and sensational performances from O'Connor and Chill Wills (who voiced Francis). Admittedly the structure gets repetitive - generally in first half hour everyone thinks Donald O’Connor is mad, then Francis talks to someone, there's another half hour of people thinking they’re mad, then Francis talks to a few more people, then another half hour and more allegations of madness, the Francis talks to everyone.
The film's success re-established Lubin as a force - well, kind of a force - in Hollywood and got him a two-picture-a-year deal at Universal. For the next five years he alternated Francis movies with other projects: Francis, then Queen for a Day (1951), an anthology film based on a quiz show, which told three separate stories, for United Artists ; Francis Goes to the Races (1951), then Rhubarb (1951), a comedy at Paramount about a cat that inherits a baseball team; Francis Goes to West Point (1952), then It Grows on Trees (1952), a comedy with Irene Dunne at Universal; Francis Covers the Big Town (1953), then South Sea Woman (1953), a south seas adventure tale with Burt Lancaster at Warners; Francis Joins the WACS (1954), then Star of India (1954), a period swashbuckler with Cornel Wilde shot in Italy for UA; Francis in the Navy (1955), then Footsteps in the Fog (1955), a gothic thriller with Stewart Granger shot in England for Columbia.
For me the best in the Francis series was Francis Covers the Big Town (1954). Let's look at the non-Francis output in a little more detail…
Queen for a Day was sometimes known as Horsie, but it wasn't an animal film - that was the title of the anthology's third segment, about an infant's nurse who had a face like a horse. It was based on a story by Dorothy Parker, whose satirical point about beauty is muted in this adaptation - perhaps Lubin was too “nice” a director to do it justice. The other stories are warmly done (a child gets polio, an immigrant's son does a high dive for money) but put together they don't t quite work as a movie - maybe it would've been better had Lubin been restricted to a 65 minute running time like in the old days.
Rhubarb was a bright comedy which Lubin had developed himself then sold to Paramount.There are some funny moments though the director can't overcome the main problem of all live action movies about cats - namely, their personality doesn't come across screen. There's no strong relationship between Rhubarb and Ray Milland so the film feels hollow at its core in a way the Francis movies never did.
The film is played straight but It Goes on Trees - which again Lubin had packaged with his own money before on-selling to a studio - is a fantasy like Francis where Irene Dunne discovers a tree that grows money; it is effective and entertaining though very "Eisenhower era" and I kept wishing Dunne's husband was played by a movie star rather than Dean Jagger.
South Sea Woman needed to be in colour but is highly spirited fun, which benefits from Lancaster at his toothy, swaggering best. Star of India should have been good - it has Italian locations and Cornel Wilde had appeared in some decent swashbucklers - but is sunk by a silly script.
Much better is Footsteps in the Fog, an unpretentious, enjoyable little thriller - so many Lubin films can be called "unpretentious, enjoyable little [insert genre]" - where Stewart Granger is always trying to kill Jean Simmons and she never stops thinking he's wonderful. The director had developed this for a number of years to avoid being typecast as a comedy specialist; it doesn't hit great expressionistic heights but is lots of fun, and it's a shame box office receptions weren't strong enough to allow him do more work in this line. (Incidentally the script was co written by Dorothy Reid, Lubin’s most regular writer, who worked with him on an off throughout his career; she was best known for being the widow of Wallace Reid, the first notable Hollywood movie star to die of a drug overdose, always overshone her genuine achievements as a filmmaker.)
Lubin's second stint at Universal ended with the box office failure of Lady Godiva (1955). Why this movie tanked compared to other colourful costume periods of the time is a mystery - it's bright and cheerful and stars Maureen O'Hara in all her red haired glory (she does the final ride in a body stocking, in case you're wondering). Maybe more screen time should have been devoted to her rather than her leading man, Universal's back up Jeff Chandler, George Nader, but I've always liked this movie - like so much of Lubin's output, it was perfect Saturday afternoon TV fodder when I was growing up.
The cast included Clint Eastwood, a young actor who was put under personal contract to Lubin in the mid fifties, and turned up in several of his films. Lubin gave Eastwood some of the actor's best early roles (that isn't saying much) including parts in two films the director made for RKO, The First Travelling Saleslady (1956) and Escapade in Japan (1957). This led to plenty of urban legends that the handsome Eastwood sold his body to Lubin, ignoring the fact that the director may simply have just had an eye for talent. On the other hand, Lubin did get Eastwood to do his screen test wearing nothing but a jockstrap, and would buy him suits and take him out for dinner... Still, there is no proof the relationship was anything other than totally professional. There was never any scandal attached to Lubin during his life and career, in contrast with other gay directors of his time such as Mitchell Leisen, Edmund Goulding and Irving Rapper (or straight directors such as Roman Polanski, Charlie Chaplin, and so on).
While we're on the gay thing - and we may as well deal with it, in this era of queer film studies - Lubin would probably rank amongst the least analysed gay directors from Hollywood's Golden Age. He was not known for "women's pictures" and no one's made a James Whale/George Cukor case about him sneaking in coded messages past the censor, even though he made films with such camp icons as Maria Montez and Steve Reeves. True, Lloyd Nolan appears to be in love with Ray Middleton in Gangs of Chicago and Burt Lancaster seems more interested in Chuck Connors than Virginia Mayo in South Sea Woman, but that was entirely typical of those respective genres (boyhood-friends-grow-up-on-opposite-sides-of-law gangster film and buddy action comedy). Historian William Mann described Lubin as "an ordinary workhorse", one of those filmmakers who were "gay but not transgressive, outsiders who nonetheless felt in many ways already in, who harbored no need to challenge, to provoke, to do anything other than live out their lives quietly and amenably, with a balance of conformity and integrity." That's not to deny Lubin's legitimacy and/or skill as a filmmaker - it just means you're less likely to find PhDs done on him.
Lubin's two RKO movies failed commercially. Saleslady is a classic example of a film that should work but simply doesn't, lacking the consistency and pace of his earlier movies. Escapade suffered from being a kids film at a time when Disney were beginning to monopolise that market. Incidentally, Eastwood broke away from Lubin before the actor was cast in Rawhide and kept his distance from the director over the next few decades… but called Lubin for a chat about old times when Eastwood was nominated for an Oscar for The Unforgiven (1992).
Coming off a series of flop movies, Lubin turned to episodic television, easily adapting to the shorter schedules and fast pace, helming over 500 hours of shows such as Maverick, Bonanza and Adventures in Paradise. His one last huge success would be on the small screen: Mister Ed (1961-66).
Lubin had wanted to make a TV show based on the Francis movies but Universal were not interested; cunning Lubin then looked around to buy the rights to a 1937 book of stories about a talking book that predated the Francis source material (David Stern's 1946 novel) and turned it into Mr Ed. (This is a perfect example of what to do if you're having trouble securing IP - you just buy a similar work that predates it so no one can accuse you of ripping it off even though you are). No network would back the project but George Burns agreed to personally finance a pilot and Lubin succeeded in selling the show into syndication before CBS picked it up. The two lead roles were cast beautifully - Alan Young as Wilbur and Allan Lane as the voice of Mister Ed - and the series ran for 143 episodes, and is still being re-run today.
By the sixties Lubin had earned more than enough money to retire, but he loved to work, so continued to direct other television shows as well as feature films. In between making the Mr Ed pilot and series he spent months in Italy and Africa doing a Steve Reeves "Eastern", The Thief of Baghdad (1961), which has bright colours and Tunisian locations but is hurt by a wonky screenplay and uncertainty how much fantasy to put in.
Over a summer break for Mr Ed Lubin made the part-animated Don Knotts fish comedy, The Incredible Mr Limpet (1964) which is overlong and clearly budget challenged but full of charm, and is reminiscent of the Francis movies. Since the nineties several stars and directors such as Jim Carey and Rickard Linklater have been interested in remaking this movie and you can see why - it's an extremely likeable story.
After Ed wound up Lubin did a Herman's Hermits vehicle for producer Sam Katzman at MGM, Hold On! (1966). Shelley Fabares is wasted and the film's quality is a long way from A Hard Day's Night (1964) which it clearly apes, but it is full of high spirits and features eleven Herman's Hermits tunes, and lead singer Peter Noone regarded this is the favourite of the three movies made by the band.
Lubin's last feature was a drama shot in Spain, Rain for a Dusty Summer (1971) - this is sometimes called a spaghetti Western, but it isn't really... It's more a priest-on-the-run story, where a guitar-playing man of the cloth tries to escape army prosecution during the 1917 Mexican Revolution. This film's a hard slog, badly dubbed and veers wildly in tone (one minute the priest is in drag, the next he's being executed by firing squad). It's very pro-Catholic, as if Lubin was trying to make amends to the Legion of Decency for To the People of the United States by making a a bad Leo McCarey movie. He later said he only ever directed eight flops in his career - this was surely one of them. But to be fair, most directors wind up with a whimper rather than a bang at the end.
Lubin directed some TV specials in the late seventies before retiring, probably through lack of offers and age-ism than any lessening of desire. He lived to a ripe old age in the Hollywood Hills, then had a stroke in December 1995, after which he moved into a nursing home, where he died in May 1996 (possibly mercy killed by a nurse, though it's never been proven - this does put a downer on things, but I felt I had to mention it, and how someone dies shouldn't take over how we judge how they lived).
Lubin described himself as a happy person and this is reflected in his films. He wanted to entertain. He kept things fast. He didn't go too dark. He deliberately tried to have no "style". That's not the sort of attitude that's going to earn you a lot of critical respect but it did bring him constant employment and money, as well as the gratitude of countless cinemagoers and TV viewers. Lubin sometimes wondered maybe he'd be better off if he'd done less less and better work... but I don't think that was in his nature - he was a compulsive worker rather than a David Lean/Kubrick style tinkerer. I think he was terrific and he should be better known.
Monday, August 05, 2019
Movie review - "The Spider Woman Strikes Back" (1946) *1/2
Disappointing horror film despite the presence of Gale Sondegaard and Rondo Hatton. The Spider Woman was great in Sherlock Holmes but Universal struggled to use her in this spin off - it was hard to get a fix on her character. You know she's going to be bad because she's Sondegaard.
Her plan's convoluted - performing experiments to create a death serum that kills cattle and.. drives people off their land??? Boring! The character's not driven by anything interesting, like say love which drove Dracula or loneliness which drove Frankenstein's monster.
Brenda Joyce and her male co star Kirby Grant are dull (why not give him a proper job? Why not combine him with the Dept of Agriculture guy?). So is the subplot about unexplained cattle deaths. I mean you don't watch a horror film to be about reclaiming land.
Lazy climax with Sondegaard setting fire to the house. This was just crap.
Her plan's convoluted - performing experiments to create a death serum that kills cattle and.. drives people off their land??? Boring! The character's not driven by anything interesting, like say love which drove Dracula or loneliness which drove Frankenstein's monster.
Brenda Joyce and her male co star Kirby Grant are dull (why not give him a proper job? Why not combine him with the Dept of Agriculture guy?). So is the subplot about unexplained cattle deaths. I mean you don't watch a horror film to be about reclaiming land.
Lazy climax with Sondegaard setting fire to the house. This was just crap.
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Movie review - "The Mystery of Marie Roget" (1942) **
The original story was a sequel to The Mystery of the Rue Morgue and this film makes great capital of that - it constantly refers to the Rue Morgue, an achievement of Dupin, which was filmed by Universal in 1932.
That was more of a horror movie - this isn't really, though there are horrific elements: in particular murders of two women, both of whom have their faces mutilated. There's also mention of a killer leopard. But it's generally a straight mystery - similar in ways to the Universal Sherlock Holmes films of the time.
The investigating duo are police officer Gobelin (jaunty Lloyd Corrigan) and Dupin (Patric Knowles). Knowles is awful - flat, dull, uninteresting. So not a star.
Other actors are a lot better: Maria Ouspensaka as the head of the family, Nell O'Day is fine as the ingenue, John Litel and Edward Morris are solid character support, and Maria Montez is a femme fetale. Montez isn't much of an actor but it was good to see her play a baddy - a woman out to kill her sister - and the film suffers once she disappears. She sings a (presumably) dubbed song too.
There's a lot of story - two murders, attempted murders, pulling out brains, duel challenges. It lacks focus - Morris is driving the action, then Montez, the Knowles. Really the film should've been told from Knowles' POV, no matter how dull he was.
There's solid production values and photography - you can tell it's a studio movie. It could have done with a lot more suspense and shocks - it's not particularly well directed and it's not surprising this isn't better known. Still, I didn't mind it.
That was more of a horror movie - this isn't really, though there are horrific elements: in particular murders of two women, both of whom have their faces mutilated. There's also mention of a killer leopard. But it's generally a straight mystery - similar in ways to the Universal Sherlock Holmes films of the time.
The investigating duo are police officer Gobelin (jaunty Lloyd Corrigan) and Dupin (Patric Knowles). Knowles is awful - flat, dull, uninteresting. So not a star.
Other actors are a lot better: Maria Ouspensaka as the head of the family, Nell O'Day is fine as the ingenue, John Litel and Edward Morris are solid character support, and Maria Montez is a femme fetale. Montez isn't much of an actor but it was good to see her play a baddy - a woman out to kill her sister - and the film suffers once she disappears. She sings a (presumably) dubbed song too.
There's a lot of story - two murders, attempted murders, pulling out brains, duel challenges. It lacks focus - Morris is driving the action, then Montez, the Knowles. Really the film should've been told from Knowles' POV, no matter how dull he was.
There's solid production values and photography - you can tell it's a studio movie. It could have done with a lot more suspense and shocks - it's not particularly well directed and it's not surprising this isn't better known. Still, I didn't mind it.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Book review - "Creature Chronicles: Exploring the Black Lagoon Trilogy" by Tom Weaver, Steve Kronenberg and David Schecter
An exhaustive (to put it mildly) look at the making of the Creature of the Black Lagoon trilogy. No stone is unturned - the origin, original treatments, scripts, budgets, shooting, post production, marketing, release. I mean, they really go into detail. Towards the end when they started doing interviews from body doubles I began I get physically exhausted. And to have music cues...?
But it's definitive. It's all here. It's exhaustive. And there are lively bits among all the facts - John Agar was a party boozehound (professional on set, let his hair down at night), Jack Arnold was a lecherous old goat very grabby with his hands, Harry Essex was a credit-grabbing hack,William Alland's contribution has been undervalued. The actors mixed between the nice (Julie Adams - I love how she embraced fandom in later life) and the drunk. I enjoyed reading treatments for the proposed remakes.
A full-on, at times overwhelming book but the world is a better place for it to be in it.
But it's definitive. It's all here. It's exhaustive. And there are lively bits among all the facts - John Agar was a party boozehound (professional on set, let his hair down at night), Jack Arnold was a lecherous old goat very grabby with his hands, Harry Essex was a credit-grabbing hack,William Alland's contribution has been undervalued. The actors mixed between the nice (Julie Adams - I love how she embraced fandom in later life) and the drunk. I enjoyed reading treatments for the proposed remakes.
A full-on, at times overwhelming book but the world is a better place for it to be in it.
Movie review - "The Mummy" (2017) ** (warning: spoilers)
A famous misfire, one of those films that inspired a "pile on" of critical disdain. There are some good things about it - technically its very fine, handsome looking with some impressive effects. I like Jake Johnson and Russell Crowe (ideal casting as Jekyll and Hyde!) and Sofia Boutella has a great look. The start of the film is solid, even if it was a slight stretch to have Cruise go treasure hunting while on patrol for the arm (and why need that? Why not have him as ex army).
But it's confusing - I had trouble following what was happening especially after Cruise died and came back to life. There was stuff about possession and souls and back from the dead and gods and daggers and rubies and stuff - I got lost.
There's no emotional underpinning of anything. I never knew why Tom Cruise was so important to Boutella's mummy - she wanted him to be her husband was that it? In the best mummy movies the mummy was driven by love - he was a former priest going after the reincarnation of his former love. Very simple - that powered everything. Why not just use that - have Boutella think Cruise was the reincarnation of her lost love or something? Everything would've made sense - her drive, the rivalry with Annabelle Wallis.
The movie is also hurt by miscasting. I have so much affection for Tom Cruise but he's not growing into his looks - he's in great shape for a 55 year old but he's no longer a cocky kid. What's a 55 year old doing as a sergeant in the army and fortune hunting on the side? Why not use his age? Why not cast him opposite someone more age appropriate?
Wallis is poor as the female lead. There's so many other good looking female actors out there they could've used (how much would Kate Winslet have cost?)
I went in with an open mind. I wanted to like it. I feel it needed to be simplified. And maybe add a few more scenes that were scary.
But it's confusing - I had trouble following what was happening especially after Cruise died and came back to life. There was stuff about possession and souls and back from the dead and gods and daggers and rubies and stuff - I got lost.
There's no emotional underpinning of anything. I never knew why Tom Cruise was so important to Boutella's mummy - she wanted him to be her husband was that it? In the best mummy movies the mummy was driven by love - he was a former priest going after the reincarnation of his former love. Very simple - that powered everything. Why not just use that - have Boutella think Cruise was the reincarnation of her lost love or something? Everything would've made sense - her drive, the rivalry with Annabelle Wallis.
The movie is also hurt by miscasting. I have so much affection for Tom Cruise but he's not growing into his looks - he's in great shape for a 55 year old but he's no longer a cocky kid. What's a 55 year old doing as a sergeant in the army and fortune hunting on the side? Why not use his age? Why not cast him opposite someone more age appropriate?
Wallis is poor as the female lead. There's so many other good looking female actors out there they could've used (how much would Kate Winslet have cost?)
I went in with an open mind. I wanted to like it. I feel it needed to be simplified. And maybe add a few more scenes that were scary.
Monday, October 02, 2017
Book review - "Bride of the Gorilla" by Tom Weaver
No one really likes(d) Bride of the Monster, not even the people who made it or John Landis who did the introduction to this book or even Tom Weaver who wrote this book. But it's such an engagingly silly piece it's hard not to feel some affection for it - at least, for those who like gorilla movies.
It was written and directed by Curt Siodmak, a major writer of horror films whose reputation as director is much less imposing. It has in interesting cast including Raymond Burr, Barbara Payton, Tom Conway, Woody Strode and Lon Chaney Jnr. It's also got a decent story which as Weaver points out is like an early draft of The Wolf Man.
This book packs a lot in for a slight movie - there's an account of the making, of course, and reviews etc... but also the script, a detailed look at the music, an account of the final days of Siodmak (the world of horror fans can be catty!), an interview with Tom Neal's son, a look at the life of Chaney, and much more.
The one debit of the book for me was Weaver make the occasional cheap crack at Payton, which felt mean. But the book was a lot of fun.
It was written and directed by Curt Siodmak, a major writer of horror films whose reputation as director is much less imposing. It has in interesting cast including Raymond Burr, Barbara Payton, Tom Conway, Woody Strode and Lon Chaney Jnr. It's also got a decent story which as Weaver points out is like an early draft of The Wolf Man.
This book packs a lot in for a slight movie - there's an account of the making, of course, and reviews etc... but also the script, a detailed look at the music, an account of the final days of Siodmak (the world of horror fans can be catty!), an interview with Tom Neal's son, a look at the life of Chaney, and much more.
The one debit of the book for me was Weaver make the occasional cheap crack at Payton, which felt mean. But the book was a lot of fun.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Book review - "Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff: The Expanded Story of a Haunting Collaboration" by Gregory William Mank (2009)
A revised edition that really adds value - Mank's first version of this was pretty good but the expanded one is even better. This is an affectionate, well researched but accessible account of the collaborations between two of Hollywood's greatest horror icons. It focuses on their films together - The Back Cat, Gift of the Gab, The Raven, The Invisible Ray, Son of Frankenstein, Black Friday, You'll Find Out, The Body Snatcher - plus looking at their overall careers.
Lugosi and Karloff make two great protagonists, especially Lugosi with his exotic background (war hero, fleeing unstable Hungary) and unhappy life (poor finances, drug addiction, unhappy marriages) and career (descent into Bowery Boys and Ed Wood films) - but also Karloff was pretty colourful (sexually promiscuous, whip smart with money). The two contrast so well, which is presumably why they've gripped the memory of horror film fans.
It also helps that their key films were so different - The Black Cat was Edgar Ulmer weird arse masterpiece; The Raven was solid Universal horror; Invisible Ray was sci fi; Son of Frankenstein was a superb sequel; Black Friday was a weird gangster horror masterpiece with the leads miscast; The Body Snatcher was a Val Lewton masterpiece. So you don't get the feeling of repetition.
Mank has scored a nice amount of interviews (a lot of actors went on to have good lives... Don Dugan from Frankenstein III become a tough marine! several of the actresses married very well). I like the way Mank tries to couch some of his criticisms of Lugosi because he knows he's going to get his head bitten off by rabid Lugosi fans!
Lugosi and Karloff make two great protagonists, especially Lugosi with his exotic background (war hero, fleeing unstable Hungary) and unhappy life (poor finances, drug addiction, unhappy marriages) and career (descent into Bowery Boys and Ed Wood films) - but also Karloff was pretty colourful (sexually promiscuous, whip smart with money). The two contrast so well, which is presumably why they've gripped the memory of horror film fans.
It also helps that their key films were so different - The Black Cat was Edgar Ulmer weird arse masterpiece; The Raven was solid Universal horror; Invisible Ray was sci fi; Son of Frankenstein was a superb sequel; Black Friday was a weird gangster horror masterpiece with the leads miscast; The Body Snatcher was a Val Lewton masterpiece. So you don't get the feeling of repetition.
Mank has scored a nice amount of interviews (a lot of actors went on to have good lives... Don Dugan from Frankenstein III become a tough marine! several of the actresses married very well). I like the way Mank tries to couch some of his criticisms of Lugosi because he knows he's going to get his head bitten off by rabid Lugosi fans!
Monday, August 29, 2016
Book review - "On the Good Ship Hollywood" by John Agar (2007)
John Agar was an odd kind of movie star - the son of a meat packer, he launched into global fame by marrying Shirley Temple, which resulted in a movie contract from David O. Selznick. He lucked out with some of his early film roles, which included parts in classics such as Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon and The Sands of Iwo Jima. Agar was an awkward, inexperienced actor, but he looked good on a horse, moved well and didn't bring down any of these films - indeed his work in Iwo Jima was genuinely good.
He was given a few leads - Breakthrough, The Magic Carpet -but he couldn't really carry a film and his career took a nose dive when he divorced Shirley. He copped a truckload of bad publicity for this and the fact he was always being arrested for alcohol related incidents.
His career received a second chance when he was signed by Universal Studios in the mid 50s, for whom he made a number of films, mostly science fiction epics - some of them of very high quality, like Tarantula. He kept busy acting for the rest of his life, though he occasionally had to boost the old income earnings via real estate and other odd jobs. He kept relapsing with drinking and made the mistake of not renewing with Universal when he had the chance - bland handsome types like Agar were always better off under contract. But his second marriage was happy, and they had a couple of kids who seem to love him.
The book is an interesting one - Agar is a relentlessly cheery upbeat sort of chap, forever trying to look on the bright side. He decries attitudes of the younger generation, and all the swearing and violence in films today, takes the blame for his own mistakes. Shirley Temple doesn't get that much of a mention - he simply says they were very much in love, the mum was a piece of work, their marriage suffered... he denies that he cheated on her but admits to drinking a lot. His biggest regret is being estranged from his child with Temple and smoking and drinking so much.
It's a short book and disappointingly slight. There's some stuff on John Wayne and John Ford but not a lot; it's slight on his classic Westerns and war films and sci fi efforts. He talks wistfully about wanting to make more Westerns - indeed I'm surprised Universal didn't use him more for them. The book is fleshed out with some typically strong interviews Tom Weaver did with him which focus on the sci fi stuff. But all the way through I wanted to know more - I mean how many actors worked with Shirley Temple, John Ford, John Wayne, Sam Katzman, Charles Griffith, early AIP, Sidney Pink, Audie Murphy, Larry Buchanan...
Agar comes across as a likeable, amiable guy who was a bit of a goose. The book is a quick read, it's entertaining - but I feel you could do a more solid book on Agar.
He was given a few leads - Breakthrough, The Magic Carpet -but he couldn't really carry a film and his career took a nose dive when he divorced Shirley. He copped a truckload of bad publicity for this and the fact he was always being arrested for alcohol related incidents.
His career received a second chance when he was signed by Universal Studios in the mid 50s, for whom he made a number of films, mostly science fiction epics - some of them of very high quality, like Tarantula. He kept busy acting for the rest of his life, though he occasionally had to boost the old income earnings via real estate and other odd jobs. He kept relapsing with drinking and made the mistake of not renewing with Universal when he had the chance - bland handsome types like Agar were always better off under contract. But his second marriage was happy, and they had a couple of kids who seem to love him.
The book is an interesting one - Agar is a relentlessly cheery upbeat sort of chap, forever trying to look on the bright side. He decries attitudes of the younger generation, and all the swearing and violence in films today, takes the blame for his own mistakes. Shirley Temple doesn't get that much of a mention - he simply says they were very much in love, the mum was a piece of work, their marriage suffered... he denies that he cheated on her but admits to drinking a lot. His biggest regret is being estranged from his child with Temple and smoking and drinking so much.
It's a short book and disappointingly slight. There's some stuff on John Wayne and John Ford but not a lot; it's slight on his classic Westerns and war films and sci fi efforts. He talks wistfully about wanting to make more Westerns - indeed I'm surprised Universal didn't use him more for them. The book is fleshed out with some typically strong interviews Tom Weaver did with him which focus on the sci fi stuff. But all the way through I wanted to know more - I mean how many actors worked with Shirley Temple, John Ford, John Wayne, Sam Katzman, Charles Griffith, early AIP, Sidney Pink, Audie Murphy, Larry Buchanan...
Agar comes across as a likeable, amiable guy who was a bit of a goose. The book is a quick read, it's entertaining - but I feel you could do a more solid book on Agar.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Movie review - "The Black Cat" (1934) ***1/2 (re-viewing)
Two of the greatest horror movie stars were Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi; they teamed on several occasions, of which this was the first and perhaps the best... It's definitely the one where they really go mano a mano.
Its an intense, way out film with a weak link to Edgar Alan Poe but a lot of imagination and boldness. Lugosi is relatively subdued but it's still a fantastic role - a dashing, tormented psychiatrist, haunted by having been in a prison for 15 years, determined for revenge. Karloff is unique, with his close cropped haircut, black robes and sleeping next to Lugoi's daughter.
David Manners is bland in what is really a thankless role, the "ordinary guy", but he's solidly bland if that makes sense. Jacqueline Wells - who later became Errol Flynn co-star Julie Bishop - gets to have more fun as Manners' bride who gets a little horny after Lugosi injects her with something, giving Manners a big kiss.
Lots of things I noticed on reviewing - Karloff caressing the wooden sculpture of a naked woman, the choppy nature of the story, the fact the middle seems padded despite the fact its only 65 minutes, the awkwardness of the comical police interlude. But it's got great sets, a wonderful kinky feel and a slap up climax.
Its an intense, way out film with a weak link to Edgar Alan Poe but a lot of imagination and boldness. Lugosi is relatively subdued but it's still a fantastic role - a dashing, tormented psychiatrist, haunted by having been in a prison for 15 years, determined for revenge. Karloff is unique, with his close cropped haircut, black robes and sleeping next to Lugoi's daughter.
David Manners is bland in what is really a thankless role, the "ordinary guy", but he's solidly bland if that makes sense. Jacqueline Wells - who later became Errol Flynn co-star Julie Bishop - gets to have more fun as Manners' bride who gets a little horny after Lugosi injects her with something, giving Manners a big kiss.
Lots of things I noticed on reviewing - Karloff caressing the wooden sculpture of a naked woman, the choppy nature of the story, the fact the middle seems padded despite the fact its only 65 minutes, the awkwardness of the comical police interlude. But it's got great sets, a wonderful kinky feel and a slap up climax.
Book review - "The Black Cat" by Gregory William Mank (2015)
Mank has carved out a strong reputation as a writer on the Golden Years of Classic Hollywood horror, with tomes on Karloff and Lugosi, Dwight Frye and others. This is short but comprehensive look at the making of the 1934 Universal classic which brought Karloff and Lugosi together for the first time, covering the film's inception, scripting, casting, filming, post production, censorship troubles, Alisteir Crowley influence, etc.
Most of all it looks at the tortured/feverish/however you want to describe it genius of Edgar Ulmer, who was the real auteur of this film, rewarding Universal with their biggest hit of 1934... only to be blackballed in the industry, in part because he defied Carl Laemle but also because he ran off with the wife of one of Laemle's nephews.
After the book on The Invisible Man I was a little disappointed we didn't get the shooting script and the kindle edition I read of this was all chopped up. But it's a bright, entertaining book that made me want to go straight out and watch the film again.
Most of all it looks at the tortured/feverish/however you want to describe it genius of Edgar Ulmer, who was the real auteur of this film, rewarding Universal with their biggest hit of 1934... only to be blackballed in the industry, in part because he defied Carl Laemle but also because he ran off with the wife of one of Laemle's nephews.
After the book on The Invisible Man I was a little disappointed we didn't get the shooting script and the kindle edition I read of this was all chopped up. But it's a bright, entertaining book that made me want to go straight out and watch the film again.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Book review - "Claude Rains: An Actor's Voice" by David Skal and Jessica Rains (2008)
Claude Rains was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, character actor from the Golden Years of Hollywood. Best known for villains, particularly in the films of Errol Flynn, he could play all sorts of parts - heroic monsters (Phantom of the Opera), dodgy Vichy policemen (Casablanca), sympathetic Nazis (Notorious), kindly shrinks (Now Voyager), kindly shrinks with a very dark side (Kings Row). The number of classic films in which he appeared, and helped make classic, is remarkable. It's hard to imagine him giving a bad performance.
It's surprising in a way that it took someone so long to write a biography of Rains. He had an interesting life - mother wound up in a mental asylum, father was a shonky actor; he saw genuine active service in World War One and was gassed and wounded; worked as for Sir Herbert Tree; became a teacher of, among others, John Gielgud and Charles Laughton; was a surprisingly successful ladies man, being married six times (once to his stalker); he was also an alcoholic, yet the managed to live until his seventies.
Part of the reason must have been the fact that Rains shyed away from publicity for most of his career, and during his most famous years would retreat to his East Coast farm when not working. He was involved in scandals but rarely with someone that well known - some theatre actresses usually; Bette Davis always regretted not having an affair with him (and sexually harassed him on set); an ex wife tried to charge him with bigamy. He was also very reticent and discrete - as per many actors of his time (eg Herbert Marshall, Basil Rathbone)
Skal is best known (to me at any rate) for his books on Tod Browning and horror - maybe he got involved in part because of Rains' connection to Universal horror movies. He was technically a star from his first film - providing the voice of The Invisible Man. Before then it had been a long apprenticeship though - starting in theatre at age 11, working his way up as a stage manager before turning to acting, earning more as a teacher than a performer for a long time, chalking up many stage credits but never really getting a big hit. When his wife at the time went to New York Rains went with her and gradually made his reputation. He never became a star technically but seems to have been highly regarded from the first; he found the perfect studio in Warner Bros, who used him brilliantly (though, as was common with every actor under contract there, he would fight with Jack Warner).
I get the impression that despite his fame and achievements, Rains was never that happy - too much turbulence in his private life, too much longing for the stage (as if he didn't get better roles on film), too much alcohol. But it was a marvellous career and it's been well captured here by Skal, who had the benefit of co operation from Rains' only daughter Jessica.
I did wish he'd gone into more detail on some of the films, particularly the Errol Flynn ones, and that there was more discussion of Rains the actor - the way say Simon Callow writes about his subjects in his books. But this is a decent book.
It's surprising in a way that it took someone so long to write a biography of Rains. He had an interesting life - mother wound up in a mental asylum, father was a shonky actor; he saw genuine active service in World War One and was gassed and wounded; worked as for Sir Herbert Tree; became a teacher of, among others, John Gielgud and Charles Laughton; was a surprisingly successful ladies man, being married six times (once to his stalker); he was also an alcoholic, yet the managed to live until his seventies.
Part of the reason must have been the fact that Rains shyed away from publicity for most of his career, and during his most famous years would retreat to his East Coast farm when not working. He was involved in scandals but rarely with someone that well known - some theatre actresses usually; Bette Davis always regretted not having an affair with him (and sexually harassed him on set); an ex wife tried to charge him with bigamy. He was also very reticent and discrete - as per many actors of his time (eg Herbert Marshall, Basil Rathbone)
Skal is best known (to me at any rate) for his books on Tod Browning and horror - maybe he got involved in part because of Rains' connection to Universal horror movies. He was technically a star from his first film - providing the voice of The Invisible Man. Before then it had been a long apprenticeship though - starting in theatre at age 11, working his way up as a stage manager before turning to acting, earning more as a teacher than a performer for a long time, chalking up many stage credits but never really getting a big hit. When his wife at the time went to New York Rains went with her and gradually made his reputation. He never became a star technically but seems to have been highly regarded from the first; he found the perfect studio in Warner Bros, who used him brilliantly (though, as was common with every actor under contract there, he would fight with Jack Warner).
I get the impression that despite his fame and achievements, Rains was never that happy - too much turbulence in his private life, too much longing for the stage (as if he didn't get better roles on film), too much alcohol. But it was a marvellous career and it's been well captured here by Skal, who had the benefit of co operation from Rains' only daughter Jessica.
I did wish he'd gone into more detail on some of the films, particularly the Errol Flynn ones, and that there was more discussion of Rains the actor - the way say Simon Callow writes about his subjects in his books. But this is a decent book.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Book review - "Cagliostro: The Great Impostor" by Nina Wilcox Putnam (2009)
It's not surprising that the magician Cagliostro attracted the attention of Universal execs looking for a vehicle for Bela Lugosi, and then later Boris Karloff in the early 1930s - the mad mysterious physician inspired several books and films over the years. But the treatment turned out here by Nina Wilcox Putnam isn't very good - it simply rips off Dracula with its story of an immortal man who falls in love with a young woman who looks like his former love - only she's in love with a handsome young man who has a Van Helsing style mentor. There's black servants and a killing spree and invisible rays - it isn't very scary or memorable. What's more there's not much Cagliostro either - just "Dr Astro" (it's set in the present day). However you can see several things which were later used by John Balderstone when he turned this into The Mummy.
It is a shame Lugosi or Karloff never got to play Cagliostro - and certainly both men made movies with worse stories than the one here. But this was definitely not a Classic that got Away and Universal made the right decision not to make it.
It is a shame Lugosi or Karloff never got to play Cagliostro - and certainly both men made movies with worse stories than the one here. But this was definitely not a Classic that got Away and Universal made the right decision not to make it.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Book review - "Bride of Frankenstein" by Michael Egremont Ed Philip Riley
Part of Philip Riley's republication of novelisations of various old movie scripts. I've really loved some like The Raven and Masque of the Red Death but found this a drag. I love the movie but reading this I realised the story isn't much - it's a retread of the first movie with Dr Pretorius standing in for Henry Frankenstein, who is a whiny passenger here, pushed along. Frankenstein's wife is a damp squib. There is some touching stuff with the monster and his search for a mate, but the themes are familiar to what we saw in the first movie. It doesn't help that Egremont isn't much of a writer - how he craps on for Pretorius' dialogue.
What makes Bride great is its treatment - Karloff, Clive, Thesinger, Whale's incredible direction. Found this heavy going.
What makes Bride great is its treatment - Karloff, Clive, Thesinger, Whale's incredible direction. Found this heavy going.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Movie review - "House of Horrors" (1946) ***
Rondo Hatton proved so popular as The Creeper in The Pearl of Death that Universal decided to give him his own starring vehicle. Well, technically it's his but the real lead is played by Martin Kosleck. He's the Dr Frankenstein equivalent, a selfish artist who gets so many bad reviews he decides to kill himself; however he comes across the Creeper (his version of the Frankenstein monster), befriends him and uses him to take out art critics.
That's a decent idea for a film, and it's helped by Kosleck's strong performance and Hatton's presence (greatly reduced whenever he has to say dialogue). There's also some colourful support roles with snobbish art critics, wisecracking gal reporters, cops and a macho cheesecake artist who is the leading suspect. Plus solid direction, and spirited work from Virginia Grey as the female lead. Better value than the second Hatton work, The Brute Man.
That's a decent idea for a film, and it's helped by Kosleck's strong performance and Hatton's presence (greatly reduced whenever he has to say dialogue). There's also some colourful support roles with snobbish art critics, wisecracking gal reporters, cops and a macho cheesecake artist who is the leading suspect. Plus solid direction, and spirited work from Virginia Grey as the female lead. Better value than the second Hatton work, The Brute Man.
Sunday, June 08, 2014
Movie review - "The Black Sleep" (1956) **1/2
An attempt to recreate the success of the classic Universal horror films of the 40s, with a regular director from that time (Reginald Le Borg) and many of the famous stars (Rathbone, Lugosi, Lon Chaney Jnr, John Carradine). It has the benefit of a 19th century setting, which makes it feel classier, and a perfectly respectable mad scientist plot - Rathbone performs brain experiments on people in order to help save his wife.
It's not a classic and could have done with a more interesting pair of juveniles, and some extra vigour in the handling - especially around the middle where it sags. But I enjoyed it - Basil Rathbone gives an expertly professional performance (he disappears for far too long in this and should have been centre stage the whole time) Akim Tamiroff is fun as always as Rathbone's assistant; Lon Chaney registers strongly as a one time doctor rendered into... well, Lon Chaney by Rathbone's experiments.
Its touching to see Bela Lugosi in a nothing part, really - as Rathbone's mute butler (another butler role for Lugosi and he doesn't have any lines). John Carradine has a similarly small but flashier role as a crazy, plus there's Tor Johnson to add to the fun. The climax is rushed but there's some decent shocks as the two heroes go through Rathbone's basement and encounter various creepy creatures.
It's not a classic and could have done with a more interesting pair of juveniles, and some extra vigour in the handling - especially around the middle where it sags. But I enjoyed it - Basil Rathbone gives an expertly professional performance (he disappears for far too long in this and should have been centre stage the whole time) Akim Tamiroff is fun as always as Rathbone's assistant; Lon Chaney registers strongly as a one time doctor rendered into... well, Lon Chaney by Rathbone's experiments.
Its touching to see Bela Lugosi in a nothing part, really - as Rathbone's mute butler (another butler role for Lugosi and he doesn't have any lines). John Carradine has a similarly small but flashier role as a crazy, plus there's Tor Johnson to add to the fun. The climax is rushed but there's some decent shocks as the two heroes go through Rathbone's basement and encounter various creepy creatures.
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