College (1927): About A Girl

The review is in conjunction with The Big League Blogathon: A Celebration of Baseball in Film, which is being hosted by Forgotten Films. After you check out this review, I encourage you to keep up with the other contributions throughout the blogathon over at Forgotten Films.

It’s no secret that Buster Keaton was an avid baseball fan, so much so that Keaton was known to take a ‘baseball break’ at a moments notice if there was a stall in a film’s production. Considering his love of baseball as well as his physical abilities as an entertainer, it’s surprising that Keaton never made a film strictly about the sport he loved so dearly – though baseball has shown up in a small handful of his movies.

In 1928’s The Cameraman, there’s a scene where Keaton pantomimes a handful of signature baseball movements in Yankees Stadium. Much later in his career, 1935 to be exact, Keaton made a 19 minute short film titled One Run Elmer, where he plays a gas station owner who tries to win over a girl by beating his rival in a game of baseball. The only other Buster Keaton film that features baseball in some capacity came a year before The Cameraman, 1927’s College.

Directed by James W. Horne and Buster Keaton, College is about a young man named Ronald (Keaton), who during his high school graduation is recognized as being the “most brilliant scholar” in his graduating class. While accepting his award, Ronald gives a speech titled “The Curse of the Athlete,” which chastises athletics for being drastically inferior to a good education. The speech is as humorous as it is purposefully ignorant, with Ronald asking uninformed questions such as “What have Ty Ruth and Babe Dempsey done for science?!,” all the while his suit is noticeably shrinking after earlier being caught in a rainstorm and then spending time next to a heater.

Ronald’s speech is clearly the catalyst for the film’s plot, in that he seems to be using it as a platform to belittle athletes while making himself look better in front of the girl he likes, Mary (Anne Cornwall). However, Ronald’s plan backfires, as his speech comes off as arrogant and misinformed, something of which causes Mary to declare that she would rather spend her time with an athlete over a “weak-knee’d, teachers’ pet.” Ouch.

Devastated by her reaction, Ronald only sees one way of winning back Mary’s heart, and that’s by following her to college and trying out for some of the school’s sports teams. Specifically, the track and field team and, of course, the baseball team. Unsurprisingly, however, Ronald is not all too successful in his endeavors, leading to a number of scenes that unfortunately do not quite live up to Keaton’s better work. Regardless, it’s still enjoyable watching Ronald position himself to play third base while wearing full catcher’s gear or seeing him throw a javelin with all of his might, only for it to travel no more than 5 feet.

Some of the stronger comedic moments come from Ronald working as a soda jerk, wherein he attempts to display some fancy bartending flair with disastrously messy results. One of the most impressive stunts in College comes later on when Ronald, who is now working as a waiter, does a backwards somersault while holding a cup of coffee upright the entire way. Unfortunately, as impressive as this moment is, it comes at the expense of some unfavorable blackface, which Ronald uses to hide his identity from Mary who is dining at the same restaurant.

While I don’t find College to be up to par with Keaton’s best movies, it’s still a fairly delightful watch. Furthermore, it’s always enjoyable watching Buster Keaton work. Keaton’s cat-like curiosity and deadpan demeanor is a huge part of what makes him such a incredible screen presence, and it’s all on full-display here in College. Additionally, I get a real kick out of Keaton playing a nerdy character without any athletic ability when, in all actuality, he’s about as athletic a man as it gets.

College is certainly questionable as an entry into baseball film history; however, Buster Keaton’s love for the sport makes covering such a film for such a blogathon seem completely reasonable. You can check out the film, which runs just a hair over an hour, via the YouTube video below, and again, I encourage you to check out the other entries in The Big Leagues Blogathon.

The Red House (1947): Trespassing into Womanhood

Based on the novel by George Agnew Chamberlain, 1947’s The Red House is, on the surface, a fairly straight forward thriller that focuses on the dangers of jealousy and the secrets and lies that can come from contained lust. The film stars legendary actor Edward G. Robinson as Pete Morgan, who with the help of his sister Ellen (Judith Anderson) has raised a girl named Meg (Allene Roberts) from an abandoned baby girl to a teenager climbing towards adulthood. Despite their unusual situation, their family unit is quite stable; however, things begin to change for the family when Mr. Morgan, who has lived much of his life as a cripple, decides to hire one of Meg’s schoolmates, a young man named Nath (Lon McCallister), to help with some of his daily choirs.

Nath is the kind of boy who could be considered a popular kid. A good-looking young man who has a lot of charm and as much tenacity to go with it. He has a bright future, he’s eager to work and he even has himself a very attractive girlfriend named Tibby (Julie London), who loves him as much as he loves her. His character greatly contrasts that of Meg, who is painted as socially inept, but for no other reason than she is simply a little shy and certainly sheltered. It is revealed early on that her odd family situation is cause for gossip filled whispers at her high school. The chit-chat is not necessarily a direct result of how she carries herself socially but more a result of her personal home life. Regardless, she is very innocent to the world in almost every way; it’s a characteristic that she exudes from her very being and how she presents herself.

While shy, Meg is at an age where naivety brings about an intense curiosity of the world outside of the one she has always lived in. It is this curiosity that is prodded by Nath who, after learning that the surrounding woods near the Morgan’s home is plagued by some sort of unnatural danger, decides to investigate. Despite the numerous warnings given by Mr. Morgan, Nath is driven by his own brand of curiosity, and Meg is quick to follow Nath in his quest to learn more about what wicked things haunt the woods and what answers lie within the Red House.

For much of the film, there is a bit of a power struggle between the persistent Nath and the adamant Mr. Morgan. Mr. Morgan constantly asks Nath to just stay away from the woods. But despite Mr. Morgan’s warnings of the danger they present, and regardless of the proper head that he carries on his shoulders, Nath is too stubborn and, to a point, too egotistical to listen. While Mr. Morgan is not at all okay with Nath’s persistence, he is more concerned for the safety of Meg, who he has clearly been protecting from the secrets of the Red House and possibly the real reason she is as sheltered as she is. Nath’s desire to explore rubs off on Meg, and for Meg this is more than just a little adventure, which is what scares Mr. Morgan most.

While there is much to be said story wise about director Delmer Daves’ The Red House, what makes it stand out as being more than your basic, albeit well made, thriller is the complexity of the characters. It’s what really sets the film apart, specifically with the characters of Nath and Meg, who carry a level of subtext worthy of completely overtaking my attention in this review.

The character I find to be most interesting is Meg, who is driven by a desire to learn about what secrets are being kept from her and how they might affect her past, and Nath is the catalyst that sets her on this path. However, this runs parallel to a budding sexual subtext, where Meg is not only exploring her past, she is exploring her own individuality both as a woman and as a sexual being. And again, Nath is clearly the catalyst in this situation, too.

This all plays right into Mr. Morgan, who clearly perceives Meg as a daughter and fears that she will be greatly hurt by what she can learn from the past. Despite the fact that he is basically only her caretaker, Meg looks at Mr. Morgan as a father figure, and she is very much treated like daddy’s little girl, regardless of whether she actually is or not. Meg is growing into a woman, and as is the case with almost every girl who matures into womanhood, she is gravitating away from someone who has been her protective father figure to someone who can give her more than fatherly love. Deep down, this is what I believe truly frightens Mr. Morgan about Meg and Nath's growing relationship.

While her budding sexuality is a clear subtextual character trait, Meg is never exploited in a sexual fashion or any fashion whatsoever. In fact, she remains pure sexually and, more importantly, as a character throughout the film. Meg's curiosity about her past and as a sexual creature is played off innocently, and when in contrast to the more outwardly lustful character of Tibby (Nath's girlfriend), her character’s arc and structure benefit from it. She becomes the character that the viewer (or at least me, to be more specific) and Nath come to fall in love with, and this is indeed a natural progression throughout the film.

With her expressive doe like eyes that feel as if they are staring directly into your soul with a loving innocence, Meg is a character who slowly takes over the film by becoming the character that the viewer cares about most. In my opinion, falling for Meg is a necessity for The Red House to be successful, and it gives the film a density that helps it be much more than a mere thriller. It's the story of a woman becoming a woman, on her own terms and without the constraints of authority.

The Lady Vanishes: Right Into My Heart

While I've seen varying touches of subtle humor in some of his films, I have never watched any of director Alfred Hitchcock's flat out comedies. I never really thought about seeking one out either, but it would turn out that the sip I took from 1938's, The Lady Vanishes, tasted a whole lot more like a comedy than it did the thriller that the Netflix description was trying to sell me. Sometimes when you think you're taking a drink of one thing, not knowing it's actually something completely different, the taste can be almost souring. Even if the drink is something you really like, it doesn't matter. You expected something else and your taste bud's equilibrium is simply thrown off, leaving you with a "who farted?" face.

This was not the case with The Lady Vanishes, in fact, I found that my first sip turned into a full fledged chug-chug-chug, and before I knew it, I was drunk with glee. The structure of the movie (based on the 1936 novel, The Wheel Spins, by Ethel Lina White.) does work as that of a thriller, with a group of travelers that find themselves spending the night in a hotel as they wait out the terrible storm that has halted their train for the time being. While spending the night, the many characters are introduced with the main character being that of Iris (Margaret Lockwood), a young women who becomes acquainted with an elderly governess named Miss Froy (Dame May Whitty).

During the overnight hotel stay is where a bulk of characters are introduced, with many of them playing minute yet important parts that work almost as red herrings in a way. All of the characters are interesting and many have a quirkiness about them that adds an air of eccentric fun to the film as a whole (most notably and for a number of reasons are the characters of Charters and Caldicott). It's not even clear as to who the film will focus on until the travellers are all back on the train and Miss Froy goes missing. The only person who notices this is Iris, but when she begins to investigate, no one on the train seems to know - or wants to admit knowing, for whatever reasons - who Iris is talking about.

That's really the basic idea of the film, and while there are many little twists, turns and mysteries to be discovered with many of the individuals on board, The Lady Vanishes uses this plot of suspense and intrigue to do so much more than what it would seem to be at face value. As I said, the movie is very much a comedy, one that is driven by an ensemble cast for the first act. However, the film changes its focus after the incident happens and that is when most of the time is spent with Iris and, another acquaintance she made while at the hotel, Gilbert (Michael Redgrave), whom helps her try to unlock the mystery of the missing women.

Doing a little backtracking to give some background on Gilbert and Iris, their first encounter is not the most positive one as Iris tries to have Gilbert kicked out of his hotel room for making too much noise playing music in the room above hers (in an oddly hysterical scene), thus keeping her from a good night's rest. After the hotel manager asks him to leave his room, Gilbert promptly comes down to Iris' room and informs her that since she had him removed from his room, then he will be staying with her for the evening. His brashness and overconfidence in the situation only infuriates Iris, but it does so to the point to where Gilbert gets what he wants, which is his own room back.

Even as initial adversaries, the minute both Iris and Gilbert are on screen together, it is clear that there is an incredible connection between the two, whether or not Iris would knowingly want to acknowledge it at first. This is a relationship that builds and becomes stronger when an obviously smitten Gilbert helps out a distraught (and equally enamored) Iris in her search for Miss Froy. Redgrave and Lockwood are simply delightful on screen together, and watching them fall for one another is truly where The Lady Vanishes succeeds the most. There are many scenes where the two play sleuth, and their interactions make for a handful of nice, genuine moments that also work as a solid way to break up the tension and the seriousness of core the story.

For a film that does come off as a comedy with the structure of a thriller, it is a little on the ridiculous side as far as the story goes, as well as where it ends up towards the movie's back end. Things get a little too serious for the contrasting moments of humor, and for that the movie is slightly conflicted, but none of that is as important as it should be due to the film's other strengths. One of them being the brilliant techniques that Hitchcock uses from time-to-time. Now, this is a movie from way back in 1938 (dude, shit's in black and white, even), and was one of the final films that the director made before making the big move to Hollywood, but it is clear that he had an incredible eye for cinema even way back then. There are some brilliant shots and a great use of perspective spread throughout, but most impressive is a quick action shot with Gilbert outside of the moving train, that is simply quite awesome.

Nevertheless, even with these fine cinematic aspects, there is a lot of sloppiness in the movie on a technical level, and it's hard to say if it's the fault of Hitchcock or the film's editor, R.E. Dearing. There are times where the confinement of a train is well portrayed, but that also leads to a handful of moments that feel very confused and a lack of flow between shots become very present. One scene that immediately comes to mind is when Gilbert and Iris are in the cargo hold, where they run into a magician that seems to be up to no good, and a fight between the three ensues. It's extremely poor in how cohesive it is visually, but what's kind of funny about this lamely filmed moment is it's one of my favorite portions of the film due to Redgrave, Lockwood and their interactions up to, during, and after the fight (as well as the comicality of the scene). That's truly a testament as to how fantastic the two are together.  

Love this photo!

Hitchcock has successfully used touches of humor to break up the tension in many of his films but The Lady Vanishes is really where I found myself chuckling throughout much of the runtime. The mystery and suspense are a second thought when I think about why I enjoyed this film so much, and it is that pure comedy that can really only be found in classic cinema that won me over. More so, the pairing of Lockwood and Redgrave will prove to be one of my favorites as far as a romantic storyline goes, and for a movie to give me characters that I can fall in love with as they fall in love with each other, is truly a surprise that I never expected when I sat down with this cold glass of mystery.  

Freddy's Friday Night Dance Party!: Slaughtered Lamb Edition!

Oh boy is it about to get hot in here, actually, with a certain someone's central air pooping the bed, it already is hot in here. I'll save you the boring and sweaty details, but to say Swamp Thing could make his home in my undies is an understatement. However, I am not the only one burning up tonight, but unfortunately, my need to strip is not followed by a werewolf transformation, which would be kind of cool. Tonight's clip is a special one, as it's from a film that is loved and considered a classic by most every genre fan, including myself. Before we get started, I should warn you all that this video is NSFW…there is a naked American man in it, but thankfully, you don't see his balloons.

1981's An American Werewolf in London made great use of music, and all with a common and fitting theme, the moon. This is the scene that clearly stands out most, as David Kessler make his famous transformation into a beast of the night to Sam Cooke's version of Blue Moon. The song was originally written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart way back in 1934 and has been covered so many times, it would take all of our fingers and toes to count them. While I prefer, and completely adore, The Marcel's Doo-Wop version, Cooke's fits in quite nicely for its ominous yet sweet tone. Blue Moon is a small, but very important, piece of a puzzle that created one of cinemas most memorable scenes.

Freddy's Friday Night Dance Party!: Feel My Nervous Touch Edition!

It's was very difficult not going with an ode to The Touch or Feel My Heat when deciding to let Dirk’s Diggler invade Freddy’s Friday Night Dance Party, but what it comes down to is not missing the chance to show some love for a classic cinematic moment. Paul Thomas Anderson's 1997 masterpiece, Boogie Nights - a film about a boy, his dream, the big dong that made that dream cum true and his eventual downfall – is a favorite of mine, and while there are many wonderful musically driven scenes in the movie, the one that stands out most is the drug deal gone wrong.

Keeping in line with the times, Jessie's Girl - written and performed by Rick Springfield - was a perfect song to use for this scene. It was a major hit when it was released and most anyone would recognize it almost immediately for the 80's memories it induces. Jessie's Girl is a song that I would equate to incredibly corny but slightly infections pop cheese, but as popular as it was in its heyday, this scene from Boogie Nights is so iconic that it almost takes the song and makes it its own. If you are a film fan, you will forever associate Jessie's Girl with Boogie Nights, and that is due to this being such a perfectly executed and memorable scene.

In a way, the song is intrusive to the viewer as well as the characters, as this is a moment that unfolds in such a tense way, that the music is only serving to add a few beats to ones heart rate. There is so much going on for the characters sitting on that couch, so much going through their heads, and the cranked up tape cassette and half naked Alfred Molina dancing around just adds to their level of drugged up stress, which conveys amazingly to the viewer. My favorite moment is the shot that just lingers on Eddie Adams' face - you can see in his eyes that his brain is working overtime - as he is assaulted by the loud music, the disruptive snaps of firecrackers, Rahad dancing around the apartment, the nervous thoughts about ripping off this dangerous dude and being completely coked up to top it all off. Truly brilliant and it all comes together to make one of cinemas most intense scenes as well as one of my personal favorites.     

Freddy’s Friday Night Dance Party!: Enormous Schwanzstucker Edition!

Have I got a “Monster” of a Dance Party planned for all you jive ass turkeys this week! It is a memorable scene taken from an ageless horror comedy and is a big reminder why Mel Brooks was so awesome back in the day. It’s Puttin’ on the Ritz as performed by Dr. Frederick Fronk-en-steen! and his Monster. Enjoy.  

Originally written in 1929 by Irving Berlin, Puttin’ on the Ritz is a classic song, but that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise since it’s like, a billion years old. Now, this little song and dance number from the 1974 Mel Brooks classic, Young Frankenstein, is just as classic, without being nearly as old and man, it is still incredibly funny. The legendary Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle knock this performance right out of the park and the chorus is just flat out hysterical, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. I actually revisited this film very recently after not seeing it for many years and I was so surprised at how well it holds up, as well as how enjoyable looking Teri Garr was. Roll in zee hey, indeed.

Dial M For Magnificent!

There's just something satisfying about watching an older film and being nearly blown away by the techniques and visual stimulation used in something that is considered to be “old.” I have seen my fair share of Alfred Hitchcock films, but fair share compared to his “girthy body“ of work is nearly a sliver in the big scheme. I love the films of his that I have seen, but I think I have been much too lax in broadening my Hitchcock horizons and for no good reason. I get this way whenever I watch one of his films too and last time was with Strangers on a Train, a film that I completely adored and one that made me think I should watch more of his films...much like I am thinking and telling you right now.

Maybe it's a good thing that I take time between his films, maybe it makes me appreciate them more when I do see them? If I went into another one of Hitchcock's films right now, all high off the  celluloid extraordinariness - would I be disappointed? Perhaps, but that's just bullshit excuses and I think this cycle all ends with a film by the title of Dial M for Murder. Words cannot express how much I enjoyed this film, but words expressing my enjoyment are kind of key in writing about it, so I better come up with something I guess. 

Tony (Ray Milland) has concocted an intricate plot to murder his wealthy, but unfaithful wife, Margot (Grace Kelly). Tony was a professional tennis player and spent a good portion of their marriage playing in tennis tournaments, while his beautiful wife sat all alone back home in jolly ol' England. Bored and before soaps, Margot needed a little “manly attention” while Tony was away and she got it from an American crime novelist named Mark (Robert Cummings), who was staying in England for a short period of time. Tony knows of this adulteress event and along with Margot being extremely wealthy, his motivations are all lined up and gives him all the reasons one would need to have his wife murdered. 

Mark is now back in England for a visit and has met and befriended Tony to an extant, but that friendship is all a facade on both of their respective ends as Mark is really in love with Margot and Tony knows about their affair. How Tony found out in the first place was a letter that Mark had written to Margot when he left England to go back to America -  Tony got his hands on the letter and actually uses it to play an integral part in his scheme to kill Margot. That's kind of the short of it all as the plot for this film is very intricate, but more so, spoiling any of it would be reprehensible on my part no matter how old this film may be.

Most of the focus is on these three characters and almost the entire film is set in a singular location, which would be Tony and Margot's flat. Much of Dial M is filled with exposition and most of the movie is characters talking about or explaining something to move the plot along. Sounds kind of boring...one location, a few characters, and nuttin but talking. However, this one is far from boring and I was completely intrigued by the intricate details of every move that each character makes, or plans on making. Tables are constantly turned, backs are stabbed multiple times and there is no clear indication as to how things may turn out in the end.

Dial M for Murder is based off a stage play by English playwright Frederick Knott, who also wrote the film's screenplay and the detail put into it is incredible. Every detail is meticulously thought out and as each character explains their plan, it is impossible not to be amazed by the brilliance of it all. Tony's perfect murder scheme is so well thought out and so tight, that there is no way it wouldn't work in his mind and this almost gives him an arrogance about the whole thing. Arrogance leads to mistakes and when one is made, the plot thickens as well as the mystery and tension.

Even with all of the long periods of talking throughout the film, Hitchcock is somehow able to make each of these dialogue stretches seem different from one another with a multitude of techniques and camera angles. Dial M is set in one location, but even more so, one main living room and the way that room is shot in so many different ways is an astonishing sight. One long scene towards the film's opening has Tony explaining his murder idea to an unwilling accomplice - as Tony starts acting out how it should all go, the camera jumps to a high angle, almost top down view and in a voyeuristic way, follows every movement that Tony makes. It is quite brilliant and really draws you in to what Tony is saying, which is very important, because the entire film relies on being captivated by the narrative.

There are so many different little stylistic flourishes that keep you from just staring at a couple of talking heads and no matter how interesting what is being said is, without the visual prowess, it could get a little boring. It certainly doesn't hurt the film that the acting is superb by all involved either and especially with these long scenes of heavy dialogue that are often delivered for lengthy periods of time with very few cuts.  It plays exactly like a stage play and considering that is where the source material stems from, the feel is more than fitting.

Dial M for Murder is a perfect case of all style AND substance and that is a balance not struck often enough. When this balance is found in a film that's 55 year's old, it just makes it that much more impressive to me...I don't know why that is exactly. Probably naivety, or the fact that I have a predetermined thought of movies or “pictures” from that era and how they are stylistically. Hitchcock was leaps and bounds ahead of the curve and it is great to once again be shown why he was such a master, by viewing the phenomenal Dial M for Murder.