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The Red Danube (1949) Is Ill-Timed Dream Merchandise Occasional benefit to pic personnel was feeling they were doing something important rather than spit-out of product most associated with H'wood. The Red Danube took serious stock of Vienna and post-war allied breakdown without stepping foot there, other than second units dispatched to sites lately ripped by combat. MGM had resource to mirror most credibly any foreign place, so why dispatch full crew and principals where total control of resources could be had at home? The Red Danube 's trailer conv eys heft going in, each of stars addressing the camera to say how meaningful this project is to them. Here was dramatization of hottest news on eve of a coldest war the US would fight. Louis Calhern even interrupts his golf game to tab The Red Danube as a must-see. Production manpower is demonstrated by means that would have been unattainable had Metro gone offshore, press boasting of 750 trucks plus 1500 extras for highlight

Rio Bravo Packs A 1959 Wallop Quick recipe for a better Rio Bravo : 90% less of Pedro Gonzalez-Gonzalez and Estelita Rodriguez, 50% off Angie Dickinson's part, her line "I guess I talk too much" a truest uttered in whole of the film, tablespoons more of Rick Nelson, a biggest asset to Rio Bravo outside of Wayne and Dean Martin, and lastly a lingering shot of Dude, or later one of Burdette's henchmen, with hands deep in the spittoon to which a coin is tossed. Latter mention is me being glib, but what I noted in latest Bravo view was fact of no one actually shown reaching into that spittoon. An ick moment to capture close up to be sure, but I wonder if Hawks chose to omit it, or if he was obliged to do so by a still-in-force PCA (the censor group did demand he trim some of Bravo violence, plus sugge stive dialogue at the film's fade). Of course, Dude is interrupted in progress toward the spittoon by John Wayne's Chance kick ing it away, redeems his humiliati

The Lady Of Scandal (1930) Translates Stage To Screen Early talk gravitated to properties where maximum chat was so much the better. That meant plays with confined setting, actors stood round furniture and often indistinguishable from it. The Lady Of Scandal and ilk would in hindsight give talkies a bad name, but were critic darlings then because of stage origin and respectability flowed from that. Mordaunt Hall was N.Y. Times defender of legit prerogative and gave but grudging nod to "shadow stories" done from plays. He made exception for The Lady Of Scandal , formerly "The High Road" of Broadway origin, and written by Frederick Lonsdale, whose The Last Of Mrs. Cheyney lent class to a pic industry always on lookout for that intangible. These were teacup marathons that sold inflated tickets at urban opens, but died hard in the hinters, where we knew from nothing, or cared, about Dukes and Earls. Prestige was second to money as Hollywood-desired commodity. It bo

Follow Me Quietly (1949) Is A Quiet Trend-Setter What with every movie or TV show today about serial killers, how's for nod to pioneering Follow Me Quietly , an RKO manhunt that got it done in brief (59 minutes) and for $259K in negative cost, yet still lost money (only $325K in worldwide rentals). Set-up was queasy, a killer called "The Judge" who throws victims out high windows or breaks into women's homes to strangle them from behind. I wonder if the Code kept most part embargo on psycho killer yarns, or were fewer of them submitted during the Classic Era? This one, for all of cheapness, has unease to spare. At one point, the killer seats himself at inner sanctum of police precinct, a cheeky and creepy affront to pursuers. Follow Me Quietly reminded me at times of Seven , being proc edural that tickles the horror genre. Val Lewton could have done much here, content and killer bringing to mind his The Leopard Man . RKO merchandising saw chiller ties, Terry Turner

Revisiting Show Biz History With  The Jazz Singer Another of those landmarks too famous for its own good, The Jazz Singer is met at last on even ground that is Warners' Blu-Ray, a fairest shake for the talking pioneer since Vitaphone discs first spun to nitrate accompany. Revivals of The Jazz Singer since 1927 tended toward re-record of sound, then re-recor d from re- records, losing for generations fresh impact the revolutionary process had. Accounts from the time confirm that when it worked, Vitaphone had no peer for clarity and amplification. There were snafus, plenty, but audiences understood what these shows could sound like, so were patient as kinks ironed out. All knew a future was upon them, talkies a given to come, whatever might become of silent traditions. The Jazz Singer would not wipe out an era single-hand; it took a couple more years and many all-talkies to fully achieve that, but ease of reference permitted The Jazz Singer to define transition as overnight, an e