An interesting email arrived this morning from Vince Keenan, who obviously keeps up with current film news much more than I do. (Since that’s not at all, it isn’t hard.)

   You can follow the link to read the full article, but here are the salient facts and a little more:

   Elijah Wood is making his first foray into producing, teaming with Anthony Moody and Rob Malkani’s Indalo Prods. to bring to the big screen an adaptation of Elliott Chaze’s legendary noir novel Black Wings Has My Angel.

   The script is being penned by Barry Gifford (Wild at Heart, Lost Highway) and writer-producer-director Christopher Peditto.

   … Angel, published in 1953, is considered one of the shining lights of the Fawcett Gold Medal paperback line and a pulp classic.

   “It’s the material,” said Wood, summing up why he decided to dip his foot into producing waters. “I’ve always been intrigued by noir novels and noir films. I love that style. And to unearth something from that era that hasn’t been made into a film or is not a remake is really exciting. It’s a lost classic.”

   Bill Pronzini’s reaction, after I’d forwarded Vince’s email on to him:

   Double ditto. My sentiments exactly. — Steve

MEET BOSTON BLACKIE. Columbia, 1941. Chester Morris, Rochelle Hudson, Richard Lane, Charles Wagenheim, Constance Worth. Screenplay: Jay Dratler; based on a character created by Jack Boyle. Director: Robert Florey.

   I was warned by Vince Keenan that in spite of their popularity at the time — there were 14 of these Boston Blackie films with Chester Morris in all — they (um) weren’t very good, or certainly not as good as he’d expected. He taped a few of them last month from TCM, just as I did, only he got around to watching some of them before I did.

   This is the first one, as you might have guessed from the title — the series lasting until 1949 — and even before I started watching it, I was convinced that Vince was wrong. And for the first 10 or 15 minutes or so, I was even more convinced. After that, well, I’ll get back to it, but Vince — crossing my fingers where you cannot see them as I say this — I’ll never doubt you again.

   In this movie, it isn’t made clear whether Blackie is a reformed jewel thief or a very tricky one whom the persistent Inspector Faraday (Richard Lane) simply hasn’t been able to catch yet. They are on friendly enough terms, but Faraday has this obsession about finally outwitting his (much) more quick-witted nemesis, and he can’t quite do it.

   A body found in Blackie’s cabin on a ship returning from Europe gets the chase started, and to clear himself, Blackie has to nab a gang of foreign agents hanging around a Coney Island carnival. The black-and-white atmospherics are nicely done, and then done again, until finally overdone. Another location would have been welcome, but it’s not difficult to figure out that a lot of money, time and effort had already been spent on this one.

   Chased by the aforementioned gang, Blackie commandeers a roadster driven by a dark-haired beauty named Cecelia Bradley (Rochelle Hudson), whose charms Blackie doesn’t seem to recognize as quickly as the audience does — speaking only for myself, of course — but charms nonetheless.

   Running the car up into a freight train to escape doesn’t work as well as planned, but after a desperate automobile chase and dodging a few bullets, the pair finally manage to get away. Miss Bradley, no weak-kneed spinster lady she, discovers that she has had the time of her life, and signs herself up with Blackie to solve the case together. While her company is certainly welcome, in my heart of hearts, I am not entirely persuaded.

   I see that I am on the verge of revealing more of the plot than I should, and I had better watch what I say from here on out, except to say that the story line goes drastically downhill from here.

   The light-hearted approach is a little too light-hearted. The funny lines are tired, worn and generally not very funny, even (I would have thought) for 1941 audiences. The gang of agents couldn’t smuggle their way out of wet paper bags. And for most of their time together, Blackie seems to connect with Miss Bradley on a buddy-buddy basis more than he does on a man-to-woman basis

   On the other hand, Miss Bradley is definitely smitten, but as for the hint at movie’s end that she’d be coming back to appear in Blackie’s next exploit, well, it never happened. Too bad. While I’m sure Blackie will find plenty of women to pair up with through the course of his follow-up adventures, too bad indeed.

   Screenwriter Jay Dratler was later nominated for an Oscar (for the movie Laura) and won a Edgar in 1949 as one of the people responsible for Call Northside 777. He was still in the minor leagues, though, when he was assigned this one to work on.

[UPDATE] 04-17-07. Looking at this blog entry this evening, checking for errors and tweaking the prose a little, neither of which I actually did, it occurred to me that none of the images I’ve posted actually came from this particular movie, not even the one in the poster. The two women in the film never met, not once.

   And as long as I’m doing this update and to remain fair and balanced in my presentation, why don’t I give equal time to someone who liked the movie? Leonard Maltin gives it three stars (***) and goes on to say, “… a slick and fast-paced mystery comedy … Franz Planer’s stylish cinematography enhances this solid programmer.”

MURDER AT GLEN ATHOL. Invincible/Chesterfield, 1936. John Miljan, Irene Ware, Iris Adrian, Noel Madison, James Burtis. Based on the Doubleday Crime Club novel by Norman Lippincott. Director: Frank R. Stayer.

   The date of the movie as given on the DVD case is 1932, but that’s in error. The book of the same title that the film is based on is 1935, a one-shot detective novel by Norman Lippincott, about whom very little is known. The book itself is scarce, with no copies being offered for sale by anyone on the Internet at the present time.

   I happen to have a copy myself, but of course it’s inaccessible, along with most of my collection of Crime Club mysteries, shelved away in the far end of the basement, which I do intend to get to one day. Really soon now. So any impression of the mystery that Mr. Lippincott wrote is going to have to come from this filmed version instead, and I must say that I was impressed.

   Within the 64 minutes that it takes to watch this tightly directed detective movie are all of the standard ingredients of the Golden Age mystery yarns of the time: A detective, Bill Holt, on holiday, played rather stiffly by John Miljan; his trusted and slightly comic assistant, Jeff (James Burtis) who looks like an ex-prizefighter; a brash and sexy vamp who lives next door, Muriel Randel (Iris Adrian), who’s not afraid of a little blackmail on the side, even if one of her victims is local gangster Gus Colletti (Noel Madison). See below.

   Visiting next door, where Holt is invited to a dinner party one evening is Jane Maxwell (Irene Ware), who in this movie is merely wholesomely pretty, not beautiful. Holt’s eye lights up as soon as he sees her; Muriel’s overt charms mean nothing in comparison. Jane Maxwell has her own secrets, but no one this wholesomely pretty could be guilty.

   And Muriel is one of three people who are murdered later that same evening. I haven’t mentioned the other two, but suffice it to say that one of them is assumed to have killed both Muriel and the other victim, which suits the local police just fine. They’re wrong, of course, and the job Bill Holt takes upon himself is to prove it, and it isn’t easy, what with all of the red herrings, lies and false trails he’s forced to dodge and make his way down before doubling back.

   Movies like this are often played for laughs as well as for the detective aspects, but thankfully such small hilarities are kept to a minimum. It’s only a guess, but I’d have to say that the movie stuck fairly well to the novel it was based on. Whether that’s so or not, and low budget or not, this is detective movie that’s both worthy of the name and the just over sixty minutes that’s needed to take it all in.

PostScript: Here are the two leading ladies of this film, neither of whom are dressed as they are in this movie, but as if this blog weren’t classy enough, they do add a little something to the overall ambience, don’t they?

Iris Adrian

Irene Ware

DESPERATE. RKO Radio Pictures, 1947. Steve Brodie, Audrey Long, Raymond Burr, Douglas Fowley, Jason Robards (Sr.). Directed by Anthony Mann.

   An early film noir, back before directors knew that that’s what they were filming, back when a low budget on a crime film was the impetus for creative lighting and innovative camera techniques, and not because they realized that they were creating a movie genre.

   I reviewed Anthony Mann’s The Great Flamarion (Republic, 1945) earlier this year, a movie considered by some to be in the noir genre, so Desperate is far from being the first that he directed in the category, but to me, both seem flawed. Neither seems to me to epitomize in their entireties what a noir film truly is (or was).

   But there are some moments in Desperate that, once seen, will always be remembered. When trucker Steve Randall (Steve Brodie) is being thoroughly beaten off camera in the hideout of gangster Walt Radak (Raymond Burr), someone bumps the overhead light fixture with a single light bulb in it, starting it to swing back and forth in the otherwise darkened room. The alternating light and shadowy darkness combines with the sounds of punches and groans off to the side in an epiphany of mind-cringing delight.

   Toward the end of the movie, as Radak has caught up with Randall again, as Radak’s brother is about to die in the electric chair, for which Radak blames Randall, the two men sit opposite each other across the kitchen table in a cheap apartment flat, Radak with a gun in his hand, Randall about to die at exactly the same moment as Radak’s brother — their eyes, their sweat — it is as if that moment will stay fixed in time forever, but it does not, as the clock ticks slowly onward.

   One could wish, then, and fervently so, that the overall story would hold together more cohesively than it does. Why Randall’s wish to escape Radak is clear. He’s an innocent joe caught up in a foiled warehouse robbery, but when Radak threatens his wife of four months (Audrey Long), he becomes irrational with his thoughts of saving her — but his actions, setting them both off on the run without telling the police, just don’t make sense. Randall doesn’t ever appear quite irrational enough, nor is he supposed to be. His wife Anne simply does as she’s told — questioning but always obeying — and yet she wouldn’t if he were.

   This was Raymond Burr’s second or third credited appearance, and as a moody almost insane criminal thug, which is what he often played in B-movies like these in the 1940s, his eyes seem to glower whenever he’s filled with anger or hatred. In this movie this is 95% of the time.

   One other problem this movie faces, however, is that Mr. and Mrs. Randall, no matter how dire their situation, when they’re together, it’s never quite dire enough. There is no question that they will survive, and in a noir film, that’s always a fatal flaw. But so that I can’t be accused of giving away an ending: I just lied, and they don’t.

   Here’s one connection with crime fiction in printed form that I didn’t know before now. Audrey Long’s film career, which began in 1942, ended in 1952 when she married Leslie Charteris, creator of the Saint. Their marriage lasted until 1993, when he died.

SUED FOR LIBEL. RKO Radio Pictures, 1939. Kent Taylor, Linda Hayes, Lilian Bond, Morgan Conway, Richard Lane. Based on a story by Wolfe Kaufman. Director: Leslie Goodwins.

   I don’t know about you, but while watching the cast credits go by at the beginning of this movie, Kent Taylor was the only one I recognized right away. Morgan Conway I knew played Dick Tracy in a couple of films later on, but the others, including the two ladies, were only names to me, and more about them later.

   But whenever the star appeal is as low as this, as it was to me, I start thinking “low budget.” And on occasion, starting with low expectations is not all that bad, as this rather generic detective film met or surpassed those low expectations, and then some. Not by a mile, I grant you, but at least by a hair. It’s built around a radio program put on by a newspaper to dramatize the day’s events live. Being an Old Time Radio fan myself, that was a plus right there.

   Thanks to a practical joke one reporter (Linda Hayes) plays on another (Richard Lane), the program directed by a third (Kent Taylor) gets the jury’s verdict in a murder case backwards, “guilty” instead of “innocent.”

   Hence the title of the movie. To win the resulting lawsuit, it is up to the threesome above to solve the murder themselves, and with degrees of trepidation and humor, they do. Morgan Conway is the accused murderer, and Lilian Bond is the wife of the murdered man who’s also a close friend of the defendant. Maybe you could write your own scenario from this.

Lilian Bond

   Wolfe Kaufman, who did write the story, which holds water only as long as you don’t watch too closely, has one title listed in Al Hubin’s Crime Fiction IV: an Inner Sanctum Mystery entitled I Hate Blondes, published by Simon & Schuster in 1946. Kent Taylor, an actor in the Clark Gable vein, but nowhere near as successful, later played Boston Blackie on TV, and Clark Gable didn’t.

   Lilian Bond plays her role in the courtroom strictly on the straight and narrow, but later on when the hairpins start flying, she becomes quite a looker, even though her career never went anywhere. I think it should have. That’s her photo up above, but (truth in advertising) she never looked like that in this film, no matter what I just said.

   As for Linda Hayes, the snappy gal reporter lady, her career lasted only for 17 movies, all filmed between 1939 and 1942. She may be more famous as the mother of Cathy Lee Crosby, who later briefly played the super-powered crimefighter Wonder Woman on television. Perhaps you can see the resemblance.

FLY AWAY GIRL. Warner Brothers, 1937. Glenda Farrell, Barton MacLane, Gordon Oliver, Hugh O’Connell, Tom Kennedy.

   It must have been Glenda Farrell Day sometime last year at Turner Classic Movies, or at a minimum, Torchy Blane Day, since I’ve just discovered that I taped a complete sequence of the Torchy films that day, all eight of them. I watched a few of them last year, decided I didn’t want to overdose on them, put them aside – and promptly forgot about them until a couple of days ago when I came across them again.

   This one’s number two in the series, in case you’re counting. I can’t exactly tell you what the appeal is with these movies, since the mystery plots are kind of sappy and so are the characters, to tell you the truth. It’s been a while since I watched the first one, Smart Blonde (1937), so I’d rather you didn’t quote me on this, but I have the feeling that the detective element was the strongest in that one, before the comedy became more and more significant. Since it’s also the only one that was based on a Frederick Nebel pulp fiction story, I think I’m safe enough in saying so.

   Torchy Blane is an ace newspaper reporter, and she must have been quite a model for plenty of young girls in the late 30s and early 40s, because she is an ace, female or not. Her boy friend (or fiancé, more or less) is Lt. Steve McBride (Barton MacLane), who has an ordinary mind for police work and who (therefore) is no match for Torchy. You might consider him lunk-headed, but I think that is why Tom Kennedy is in these movies, as Sgt. Orville Gahagan, a poor poetry-spouting sap who lives for nothing more to use the siren whenever he’s whisking McBride off to the next scene of the crime. Gahagan makes McBride look positively Holmesian in comparison.

   The plot in this particular episode in their lives centers around the murder of diamond merchant in his office, but Torchy’s choice for the killer, a reporter with a rich father, seems to have an iron-clad alibi. When her candidate for a killer takes an around-the-world tour as a newspaper stunt, Torchy talks her editor into allowing her to tag along, hence the title.

   Actually, I do know what the appeal is for these movies. It’s Torchy herself, or rather Glenda Farrell who plays her: fast-talking and fast-thinking, brassy without being bold, funny and wisecracking, but her mind on only one thing, her story. The photo of her that you see above didn’t come from this movie. I couldn’t find any, I’m sorry to say, but I thought this publicity still would do fairly well in its place.

   After Vince Keenan and I finished our email conversation on Mike Shayne and the actors who have played him over the years, I didn’t think it was going to take long for Vince to go through all four films on the first DVD set, once I knew they were in his hands, and I was right. Even though not especially looking the part, Lloyd Nolan was very impressive in the role, he says, making me all the more anxious for my copies to get here in the mail.

   I’ll have to send you over to his blog, though, but it’s only a click away and it’s well worth the trip.

   Vince also sent me an email about the Mike Shayne radio show I set up a link to. His response:  “I listened to the Shayne radio show and enjoyed it quite a bit. Jeff Chandler may look nothing like that portrait of Shayne, but he’s got the attitude down pat. And that ending — what a corker!”

    Given that kind of reaction, I figured I ought to do something about it. If you go this OTR Archives page, you will find links to around 30 or 35 of them. Just click and play, or download and burn to CDs if you wish. I haven’t listened to the sound quality of all of these, but the higher the Kbps, the better, I think — try those in the column furthest to the right first. Jeff Chandler’s the star in all but the first one (from 1946) and the last (from 1953).

ON THE ISLE OF SAMOA. Columbia, 1950. Jon Hall, Susan Cabot, Raymond Greenleaf, Al Kikume. Directed by William A. Berke.

   Jon Hall made a career out of making movies (and television shows) taking place in jungles, deserts, and South Seas islands, and obviously this is one of them. Checking out his biography on IMDB, among other items of interest I learned that he was of Swiss/Tahitian descent, and that his mother was a Tahitian princess, and I believe that explains a lot.

   And which makes a movie like this one right up his alley, except that as a B-movie it rated a sub-B budget and (as the old saying goes) it probably escaped rather than being released. Hall is also a villain, which is hard to take, given that I remember him most as the star (and hero) of Ramar of the Jungle on TV, episodes of which I believe are available on DVD. I’ve hesitated in picking them up, however, as I’ve been disappointed before in watching what was wonderful when I was ten or twelve and might not be quite so wonderful today.

   As badly-tempered Kenneth Crandall in this short film, barely over 60 minutes long, he flees the successful burglary of a nightclub in Australia in a stolen plane, only to crash on an uncharted island during a hurricane (which was more likely a typhoon, if anyone had taken the time to check). The island is inhabited by beautiful women, strong men and one aged missionary (Raymond Greenleaf), who does his best to convince Crandall to renounce his evil ways. But even with the beautifully vacuous Moana (Susan Clarke) as a love interest, Crandall stays remarkably thuggish and unpersuaded.

   The only suspense in this film is how long he will resist. To avoid giving away the ending, let me suggest to you that he may never see the error of his ways, and he dies before his heart (and mind) ever softens at all.

 Hi Steve —

   Just wanted to thank you for your recent M*F post about the Michael Shayne movies coming to DVD this week. The photos of all the actors who played the part are much appreciated, as is your support for my Kenneth Tobey idea. If only … As for the Sleepers West/Sleepers East business, your guess is as good as mine. I look forward to your reviews of the films.

www.VinceKeenan.com
Pop culture, high and low, past and present.
One day at a time.

 Vince

   I don’t know if you’d agree that the portrait of Shayne on the paperback covers is definitive, but since those are the Shayne’s that I read back when I was reading them, that’s the image that comes to mind when I think of Mike Shayne.

   But, and it’s a big “but,” Jeff Chandler played Michael Shayne for a couple of years on the radio. Maybe I should do a follow-up and include his picture? Or not, since nobody ever saw this face in the role … ???

 Steve,

   I suppose I do think of that portrait of Shayne as definitive. It’s on the cover of every one of the novels I’ve ever read, and it’s featured prominently on all of the websites devoted to the character. Not that that necessarily means anything. A big reason why Kenneth Tobey struck me as perfect for the role is that he has red hair — which, of course, you couldn’t see in black-and-white.

   Or on the radio, for that matter. Jeff Chandler still doesn’t strike me as quite right, either, but then I suppose I should listen to an episode or two of the show before deciding. Have you heard any of them? That is a great photo of Chandler …

   I picked up the Shayne discs yesterday. Fox has put a dandy package together. Nice extras throughout. Last night I watched the first film in the series as well as a 17-minute feature on the history of the character. I feel bad that I ever implied anything negative about Lloyd Nolan, because he’s dynamite in the part. It’s not the Mike Shayne from the books — he’s more of a generic big-city P.I. — but Nolan fills out the role beautifully. I think this series will be rightly reevaluated in the wake of this release.

 Vince

   You asked and so here it is — a link to a Michael Shayne radio show with Jeff Chandler. This one’s from July 22, 1948, if the source I got it from is correct. The series is called The New Adventures of Michael Shayne, and was on the Mutual network from 1948 to 1950. An earlier series with Wally Maher as the star was on ABC between 1944 and 1947, and there was a later one on ABC again for the 1952-53 season. The star was Donald Curtis, or so I’m told, replaced by Robert Sterling.

   The episode that the link leads to is #5 in the Jeff Chandler series, titled “The Case of the Hunted Bride.” In my opinion this was one of the better PI shows on the radio, and I think Chandler was very effective in the part. Whether he’s “Mike Shayne” or not is a whole other kettle of fish.

   As for Lloyd Nolan, after your comments, I’m all the more anxious to get my set in the mail. If I’ve seen any of these Shayne films, it hasn’t been for 50 years, so who remembers?

 Steve,

   …As you might have guessed, I’ll be writing up a more in-depth look at the DVD set once I’ve watched all four films. At this rate, it will probably be sometime this weekend.

    — And that’s it from here. Be sure to be looking for more of Vince’s comments on the Mike Shayne films — not here, but over on his own website. I’ll keep you posted. — Steve

   Re Charles Einstein: I may in fact have recommended The Bloody Spur to you; I’ve been known to champion it. Really excellent novel made into an equally excellent film. Nowhere to Run, the film made from Blackjack Hijack, is surprisingly good for a made-for-TV flick; Marcia and I watched it recently and were impressed by the quality of the script, the depth of characterization, and the performances. David Janssen, in one of his last films, is outstanding.

   Re the Mike Shayne movies: I have a VHS tape of The Man Who Wouldn’t Die. Haven’t watched it a while, but as I recall, the story is only loosely based on Rawson’s No Coffin for a Corpse, using some of the novel’s trappings and plot elements but not the clever “impossible” gimmick. It’s not among the best of the celluloid Shaynes: too talky, too wisecracky and silly, though it does have some effective H’wood atmospherics (howling storm, weird old house, grave-digging in the dead of night, etc.) “Gus, the Great Merlini” does indeed make a brief appearance; the character runs a magic shop that Shayne visits for information.