A few John Ford films.

Bucking Broadway (1917), directed by John Ford. This early Ford western has Harry Carey playing Cheyenne Harry in a comedic vein. The film has many touches we associate with Ford, male camaraderie and enjoyment of song, a close relationship between an older man and a younger man, and exquisite compositional detail. It also has one unfortunate scene in which Harry buys new clothes only to see a Black man wearing a similar outfit, prompting Harry to return the clothes in disgust. Back to composition. At one point, we have a shot that anticipates the famous doorway scene(s) in The Searchers. The plot has Harry proposing marriage to his boss’s daughter, Helen Clayton (Molly Malone), only to have her run off to New York with the oily horse trader, Eugene Thornton (Vester Pegg), who sports a villain’s large moustache. Anyway, Harry has given Helen a small heart that he has carved and told her to send it to him if she is ever in trouble. She sends this to him, and Harry makes his way to New York. Soon after the other cowboys from the ranch also arrive with a load of horses. What follows is a raucous melee, not in a saloon, but in the posh hotel where Helen and Eugene are have their engagement party. The film is played for laughs. As early films go, this one is worth it for the cinematography and for an early glimpse at Ford’s interests as a film maker.

 

Hangman's House (1928), directed by John Ford. The film is perhaps noteworthy as the first film in which a young John Wayne appears, uncredited. He is a member of the audience watching a horse race, and in his enthusiasm he breaks down a small fence. The horse race, by the way, is a forerunner of the race in Ford's much later The Quiet Man. The story is less noteworthy than either the race or the appearance of young Marion Morrison. It tells the story of a young woman forced into a marriage with a man she does not love, a man who is a cad. Of course she loves another young man. Throw into the mix another man who is exiled in the Foreign Legion and who returns to take revenge on the cad who had married the young woman. This cad, by the way, is an informer. Oh, did I say the story is set in Ireland? This is something of a dry-run for Ford's later The Informer, complete with touches of German Expressionism. I found the film rather tepid, but it looks fine. The camera moves fluidly on occasion, and the compositions are worthy of the director.

 

Upstream (1927), directed by John Ford. This one concerns the theatre and its players who occupy a boarding house during the season. Some are successful, some are not. Some are serious actors, others are performers such as a song and dance act Callaham and Callaham or the sister act who are actually mother and daughter. Our main focus is on young actor from a famous family, Eric Brashingham (Earle Foxe), his girlfriend Gertie Ryan (Nancy Nash), and knife thrower Juan Rodriguez, aka Jack La Velle (Grant Withers). Nancy loves Eric, Juan loves Nancy, and Eric loves himself. Anyway, Eric surprisingly makes good with the help of the older actor Campbell Mandare (Emile Chautard), and lands the part of Hamlet in a London production. He triumps in the part and leaves his former friends behind. They struggle on, and Nancy and Juan plan to marry. They do marry and during their wedding ceremony, Eric returns for a visit just for the publicity. His return offers Ford the opportunity for one of his visual flourishes and Eric appears in the cloud of smoke created by the camera that takes the wedding photos. The whole thing is fluff, except this is Ford, early Ford yes, but Ford nonetheless. His visual flare is evident not only in the scene of Eric’s less than triumphant return to the boarding house, but also in other scenes such as the one in which Eric imagines himself playing Hamlet as he looks in a mirror. Ford gives us an intimate view of life as performance. 

 

Drums Along the Mohawk (1939), directed by John Ford. Ford’s first colour film is lush and lovely to look at, but its rah rah patriotism strikes the wrong cord for me. The story has to do with the American Revolution and the goings on in an upper New York community just before the Battle of Saratoga. The Tories, led here by eye-patched John Carradine as Caldwell, are a vicious lot and employ the savage Natives to do much of their dastardly work. The Natives are hard-drinkers who like to set things on fire. If the Native happens to be a Christian, our hero’s friend Blue Back (Chief Big Tree) for example, then this Native is just fine. Our hero is Gilbert Martin (Henry Fonda) who has come to this out of the way valley to build a home; he brings with him a young bride, the rich girl Lana (Claudette Colbert), who at first finds country living intolerable. As the film goes along, Lana becomes a faithful, hard working pioneer woman, perhaps helped by the example of the widow McKlennar (Edna May Oliver), a no nonsense, independent and stubborn woman who orders everyone about, even the Natives who, while holding whiskey jugs, try to burn her house down. The film has familiar Ford touches, community solidarity, the importance of church, humour, eccentric characters, and a cast sprinkled with Ford favourites: Ward Bond, Jack Pennick, Arthur Shields, Francis Ford, Russell Simpson, Tom Tyler, along with those I have already mentioned – Fonda, Carradine, and Big Tree. The final shot where the flag of the new fresh country is placed atop the church has something of a chilling feel now when the separation of church and state seems on the verge of breaking down. Visually and thematically, this is clearly a Ford film; it is, however, a lesser Ford film. It appears in the same year as Stagecoach and Young Mr. Lincoln, and a year before The Grapes of Wrath. These three films are all a cut above Drums Along the Mohawk.

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), directed by John Ford. This film showcases Ford and John Wayne at their best. We have seen it multiple times and no doubt will see it again. The cinematography by Winton C. Hoch is justly famous. The Frederick Remington-influenced look of the film is gorgeous. Wayne’s portrayal of a 43-year veteran of the cavalry, Captain Nathan Brittles, is terrific; he even manages to shed tears when C-Troop gives him a retirement present, a silver watch and chain with a sentiment on the back. The familiar Ford actors are here: Victor McLaglen, Harry Carey, Jr., Ben Johnson, Mildred Natwick, Arthur Shields, and in small uncredited roles, Paul Fix, Harry Woods, Jack Pennick, and Francis Ford. We have the usual Ford interest in male camaraderie, ritual, and tradition. We have a mixture of comedy, romance, sentimentality, and western action. The action here is interesting in that the main action of the film occurs when Brittles sets out to stop a war rather than indulge in one. “Old men must stop wars,” he says to his old friend Pony that Walks (Chief John Big Tree, another Ford stalwart). Ben Johnson as Sergeant Tyree has never been better, and his riding here is extremely impressive. Tom Tyler turns up as Corporal Mike Quayne, a wounded soldier who insists on giving the report on what happened to his patrol despite his injury. Old soldiers, eh Mis Dandridge. Olivia Dandridge, by the way, is played by Joanne Dru, another actor who appears in other Ford films, notably Wagon Master (1950). The film has many memorable moments: 
“Watch them grammar!” Lieutenant Pennell accepts Brittles’s offer of chewing tobacco as they watch from a hiding place the murder of Karl Rynders, the sutler, and the gun runners, “It’s been known to turn a man’s stomach.” Then we have the death of Trooper Smith, aka Rome Clay (Rudy Bowman), who commends “Captain” Tyree before dying. Of course, there is Sergeant Quincannon (McLaglen) in civvy clothes and brawling with those who come to take him to the guardhouse. The film has much to delight, not least its anti-war sentiment. Most impressive, however, is the landscape of Monument Valley that gives the film an epic look.

 

 A few cheapies from the early days.

The Invisible Mr. Unmei (1951, aka Oriental Evil). Low budget mystery set in post-war Japan. Cheryl Banning (Martha Hyer) arrives in Tokyo to seek answers about the death of her brother. Apparently, his death was a suicide, but Cheryl thinks otherwise. She finds herself running about with a very tall British fellow named Roger Mansfield (Byron Michie). Unbeknownst to Cheryl, Byron is married (ostensibly) to a Japanese woman. Also unbeknownst to her, Roger is really not Roger. He is actually an unsavoury fellow named Tom Putnam who owes money to various people and who is in a jam and hopes Cheryl can help him get out of this jam. So we have lots of murky goings on.  This is an odd one. Oh, the Mr. Unmei of the title is an invisible spirit fellow who appears only to evil persons about to die. Unmei has a street beggar who helps Unmei by not picking up the cigarette stubs of bad people. The beggar does not pick up Roger’s stub. How did Martha Hyer find herself in this one? And who is Byron Michie? He appears to have just two screen credits, both with Japanese settings.

Captured in Chinatown (1935), directed by Elmer Clifton. This little thriller is really for dog lovers. The German Shepherd, ‘Tarzan’, steals the show. He does any number of tricks and saves the girl and opens doors and delivers messages and tosses waste into buckets and generally manages to control proceedings. The proceedings, by the way, involve a feud between two families, the Lings and the Wongs, and two of their children who, echoing Shakespeare’s famous couple, wish to marry. An expensive jade necklace proves to bring peace between the feuding families, but dastardly Caucasians enter the scene looking to purloin the necklace. And purloin they do. Add to this, two newspaper reporters, one of whom has the dog Tarzan, and you have lots going on. One reporter, the female, finds herself captured in Chinatown, although not by the Chinese. Despite what is supposed to be an exotic background, what happens is predictable. The novelty here is not so much the location as it is the dog. The aptly named Tarzan proves smarter than the humans he finds himself outwitting.

 

Fall Guy (1947), directed by Reginald LeBorg. This Monogram thriller has something of a noir sensibility. “Clifford” Penn (father of Sean Penn) plays Tom Cochrane a war veteran who is having difficulty adjusting to life after the war. We meet him as he flounders about a street at night clearly out of his head with narcotics. He collapses and the police find him with blood on his clothes and a bloody knife beside him. A cut has him returning to consciousness in a hospital bed where the police are ready to charge him with murder. Tom manages to escape from the hospital and make his way to his girlfriend’s place. Lois Walter (Teala Loring) happens to be staying with an old friend, Mac McLaine (Robert Montgomery) who is a cop. She usually lives with her uncle Jim Grossett (Charles Arnt). So begins the story of what happened to Tom. Much of this story comes in flashbacks. In short, Tom has been taken to a party and encouraged to drink by both Joe (Elisha Cook, Jr.) and the singer Marie (Virginia Dale). He also receives cocaine, although I am not sure how he receives this. Anyway, he passes out and when he comes to and goes to leave, he opens a closet door and a dead woman falls into his arms. He stuffs her back in and hastily leaves. Shortly thereafter, he collapses on the street where the police find him. With the help of McLaine, Tom does some sleuthing in an effort to remember what happened. Meanwhile the police, headed by Inspector Shannon (Douglas Fowley) are hot on his heels. Using quite a bit of stock footage, some of it from as early as 1933, the films sets out to solves the murder of the unknown girl in the closet. The darks streets and murky goings on we associate with noir are here, as is the poor sap under suspicion of murder. The actual culprit may be in the background, but I managed to spot him by halfway through this short film. Not bad for a cheapie. This also happens to be the first film produced by Walter Mirisch who will go on to produce films such as Some Like It Hot, The Magnificent Seven, West Side Story, The Pink Panther, and many more.

 

Ouanga (1936), directed by George Terwilliger. The title refers to a love potion used in Haitian voodoo.  This is not a particularly noteworthy film, except for the racial aspect. Klili Gordon (Fredi Washington) is a black plantation owner whose skin is white. She is in love with another plantation owner, the white man Adam Maynard (Philip Brandon). Adam, however, is going to marry Eve Langley (Marie Paxton). He has had a dalliance with Klili, but he now tells her he cannot marry her because of their difference in blood. She should stay with her own people. Meanwhile, Sheldon Leonard turns up as LeStrange, a black overseer who is in love with Klili. Klili, using voodoo, plans to kill Eve, and LeStrange, using voodoo, plans to kill Klili if she won’t have him. Klili rouses two dead men as zombies. LeStrange takes the talisman that keeps Klili safe from around her neck. And then we have the drums. The whole thing is quite distasteful, and the ending is very downbeat, so to speak. As films go, this one has, perhaps, historical interest.

Dead Men Walk (1943), directed by Sam Neufield. This is a PRC quickie that has both George Zucco and Dwight Frye. Zucco has a dual role as brothers Dr. Lloyd Clayton and Dr. Elwyn Clayton. Frye plays Zolarr, hunched assistant to Elwyn. Elwyn is the evil brother who dies and returns as a vampire. Lloyd is the good brother who tries to ferret out his evil twin while local townsfolk believe it is Lloyd who is the perpetrator of dastardly murders. Elwyn hates his brother and want to see him suffer. Accordingly, Elwyn preys on the innocent niece of Lloyd, Gayle (Mary /Carlisle). Her fiancé David (Nedrick Young) begins to think the good Dr. Lloyd Clayton is trying to murder his niece. Everything moves along well enough with a few favourably staged scenes, despite the low budget. The film owes its charm to echoes of earlier Universal films, especially Dracula (1931). Fern Emmet turns in a nice performance as local seemingly loony woman, Kate. She proves to be more savvy than people give her credit for. Zucco and Frye are, however, the stand-outs. Al St. John appears briefly as a local, and Forrest Taylor is the disembodied head that present the prologue. Both St. John and Taylor are stalwarts of PRC’s westerns.

Big News (1929), directed by Gregory La Cava. This is one of those fast-talking newspaper films, and it delivers pretty well. Robert Armstrong is Steve Banks, a newspaper man with problems: he drinks too much, and his wife, Margaret (Carole Lombard), wants a divorce. Steve, however, is following a story about narcotics and gangster Joe Reno (Sam Hardy). The film takes place in the newsroom and in Reno’s speakeasy. The newsroom sports an array of characters, most notably Vera (Cupid Ainsworth), the society columnist, and Hoffman (George Hayes, later known as Gabby). The plot involves the murder of the newspaper’s editor J. W. Addison (Charles Sellon). Of course, Banks is accused of the murder, and of course we know he is innocent. The script here is snappy, and things move along nicely. For a cheapie , this one passes muster.

The Fat Man (1951), directed by William Castle. J. Scott Smart is detective Brad Runyon, the titular hero. Runyon is the creation of Dashiell Hammett, and he has his charm. He reminded me of tv’s Henry Crabbe (Pie in the Sky, 1994). The film is noteworthy for its narrative unfolding in a series of flashbacks, and its inclusion of Rock Hudson and Emmett Kelly in key roles. In short, this is a whodunnit. Detective Runyon is searching for the killer of a dentist; the killer also stole an x-ray of someone’s teeth. The film is adequately shot with some nifty camera work, and the characters, although standard for the most part, are also adequate. We do have those clowns, one of whom is a sign of times we hope to have left behind. The Fat Man also does a bit of footwork on the dance floor. Other notable actors are Julie London and John Russell. Amiable, if not particularly memorable.