DEATH DRUMS ALONG THE RIVER. 1963. Richard Todd, Marianne Koch, Albert Lieven, Walter Rilla. Screenplay suggested by the story of African adventure Sanders of the River by Edgar Wallace. Directed by Lawrence Huntington.

   This international production is set in 1960s sub-Saharan Africa, in an unnamed British colony on the cusp of independence. The protagonist and hero, Commissioner Harry Sanders (Richard Todd), a fictional creation of the prolific Edgar Wallace, is an upstanding civil servant devoted to his work in keeping the peace. Not an easy task, to be sure.

   The plot is fairly basic. After one of his policemen is stabbed to death by the port, Sanders sets out to not only find the killer, but to undercover an illegal diamond smuggling operation that he believes runs from neighboring Senegal. Sanders’s investigation eventually takes him to an upriver hospital settlement run by Dr. Schneider (Walter Rilla) and staffed by the beautiful Dr. Inge Jung (Marianne Koch) and Dr. Weiss (Albert Lieven).

   Filmed on location in South Africa, Death Drums Along the River features beautiful scenery and provides a great backdrop to the story. Unfortunately, the movie never reaches the level of excitement one would hope for in such a tale. At times, the movie can feel scripted and stale, rather than fresh and alive. That said, I’m a sucker for these types of films – murder mysteries in exotic locales where no one can be trusted. I liked it well enough, but I can’t say that it’s going to be everyone’s cup of tea.
   

NATIONAL TREASURE. Walt Disney Pictures, 2004. Nicolas Cage, Diane Kruger, Justin Bartha, Sean Bean, Jon Voight, Harvey Keitel, Christopher Plummer. Director: Jon Turteltaub.

   National Treasure was released about twenty years ago. I’d heard of it, of course. But never took the time to watch it as I always thought it was going to be merely a shallow imitation of the Indiana Jones franchise. I was wrong. Although the film has its myriad flaws and lacks grit, this Nicholas Cage vehicle is definitely its own thing.

   For those unfamiliar with the basic premise, Cage stars as Benjamin Franklin Gates, an early American historian and adventurer who decides to steal the Declaration of Independence from the National Archives. Why? Because he’s convinced it’s got an invisible treasure map on the back, one that would lead to the Templar Knights’s war spoils.

   Along for the ride are Gates’s sidekick, computer expert Riley Poole (Justin Bartha), and Dr. Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), an archivist and Gates’s nascent love interest. Opposing the intrepid trio are Ian Howe (Sean Bean), a criminal who wants the treasure for himself and FBI Agent Sadusky (a somewhat miscast Harvey Keitel). Then there’s Gates’s father, Patrick Henry Gates (Jon Voight), a disillusioned old man who no longer believes there’s a national treasure to find. He’ll eventually change his mind.

   There’s something very childlike and innocent about National Treasure, which makes sense given that the movie was released by Walt Disney Pictures. But there’s plenty to admire about a film that tells a story, sticks to it, and never cheats the audience. Just because the critics didn’t particularly like this one doesn’t mean you can’t. Overall assessment: goofy, watchable fun with a cast committed to the bit. You don’t have to feel guilty if you like it.

THE HUNTER. Paramount Pictures, 1980. Steve McQueen (Papa Thorson), Eli Wallach, Kathryn Harrold, LeVar Burton, Ben Johnson. Director: Buzz Kulik.

   Steve McQueen, in his final movie role, portrays bounty hunter Ralph “Papa” Thorson, a towering real life figure whose unorthodox career choice was the source material for The Hunter. The movie is very much a mix of action, drama, and romance, with plenty of time devoted to Thorson’s relationship with his pregnant girlfriend, Dotty (Kathryn Harrold).

   As far as the aforementioned action sequences, they are probably the best part of the film. We get to see McQueen drive a combine harvester while chasing outlaws; fight bare-fisted with a sheriff’s nephew who skipped bail; and chase a vicious killer through Chicago, with a particularly breathtaking scene taking place on a train. Literally.

   The glaring problem that The Hunter has is similar to the flaw found in many biopics. The writers simply don’t choose a good entry point into the story. Here, it takes nearly thirty minutes for the movie to find its legs. There’s a lot of effort devoted to showcasing Thorson’s eccentricities, such as his love of classical music and old vintage toys.

   Which is fine. But not as the expense of introducing a primary antagonist early on in the running. (Eventually, there is a primary villain: an ex-con who blames Thorson for being sent away to prison.)

   Overall assessment: in many ways, the movie feels more like a TV pilot tasked with introducing a character than a comprehensive feature film with a solid plot. But there’s plenty of good stuff in here too. Eli Wallach being one of them.
   

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA. 20th Century Fix, 1936. Wallace Beery, Barbara Stanwyck, John Boles, Alan Hale. Director: George Marshall.

   During the Spanish-American War, an American courier is sent with a vital message to the leader of the Cuban rebels, aided by an ex-American soldier, now a small-time thief and adventurer, and an aristocratic Cuban woman.

   As the courier, John Boles makes very little impression, and while Barbara Stanwyck is immaculately beautiful, the show is really all Wallace Beery’s, as a loutish but devoted oaf, and like the movie itself, twice as large as life itself.

CHINA. Paramount Pictures, 1943.  Loretta Young, Alan Ladd, William Bendix, Philip Ahn, Iris Wong, Sen Yung, Marianne Quon. Director: John Farrow.

   Although it was surely marketed as a patriotic flag waver during World War II, China really does stand the test of time. It remains a solid adventure/war film that has a lot going for it. Directed by John Farrow with some outstanding tracking shots, the film stars Alan Ladd as Mr. (David) Jones, an oil salesman and war profiteer living in Shanghai.

   China may be at war with the Japanese, but America is not. So he sells oil to the Japanese, irrespective of their geopolitical ambitions. Along for the ride is his sidekick Johnny Sparrow (William Bendix), a sentimentalist who longs for his small hometown in Oregon.

   Things change when Mr. Jones encounters an American schoolteacher (Loretta Young) and her Chinese students and agrees to drive them away from the front lines. Things really heat up when Mr. Jones witnesses Japanese cruelty firsthand. That really sets him off. Soon enough, he teams up with the Chinese guerrilla fighters to wage war on the invading Japanese military.

   While there are some maudlin moments in the film, overall China remains primarily an action-oriented motion picture. There’s plenty of grit and explosions aplenty. It’s definitely worth a look, particularly if you appreciate Ladd as a leading man. Here, with his fedora, leather jacket, and name, he’s a proto-Indiana Jones!

TANGIER. Universal Pictures, 1946. Maria Montez, Robert Paige, Sabu, Preston Foster, Louise Allbritton, Kent Taylor, J. Edward Bromberg, Reginald Denny. Director: George Waggner.

   Capitalizing on the American movie-going audience’s love for exotic locales, Tangier is a somewhat confusing adventure/espionage film that’s nevertheless perfectly watchable lowbrow escapism. It stars Robert Paige as Paul Kenyon, a down and out reporter and Maria Montez, as Rita, a nightclub dancer, who end up working together to track down a Spanish Nazi collaborator named “Balthazar.”

   The atmosphere and coterie of unscrupulous characters are meant to take the viewer out of his humdrum existence and into a dangerous world of criminals, informants, and collaborators. It works well enough for the very short running time of the film (a mere 76 minutes), but anything longer would have likely sunk the already somewhat padded programmer.

   Directed by George Waggner, best known for the highly atmospheric The Wolf Man (1941), the movie succeeds in creating an ambiance – a sense of time and place – but is far less successful in holding together a cohesive, easy to follow plot. It’s one of those films where everyone ends up in the same room at the end and all is revealed. Not particularly sophisticated material.

   Still, it has its moments. Look for character actor J. Edward Bromberg in a small, but pivotal role, and for Sabu as an ambitious nightclub guitarist seeking to ingratiate himself with  Kenyon (Paige). Montez, for her part, is cast in a far more serious role than in the colorful exotics she did with Jon Hall.

PEKING EXPRESS. Paramount Pictures, 1951. Joseph Cotten, Corinne Calvet, Edmund Gwenn, Marvin Miller, Benson Fong, Soo Yong. Director: William Dieterle.

   A remake of Shanghai Express (1932), William Dieterle’s Peking Express (1951) was apparently the first studio film to be set in Communist China. The plot follows humanitarian doctor Michael Bachlin (Joseph Cotton) as he attempts to make his way to Peking on a train to tend to an ill Chinese general. His traveling companions include his ex-lover, nightclub singer Danielle Grenier (Corrine Colvert), a priest (Edmund Gwenn), and Kwon (Marvin Miller), a seemingly mild-manner Westernized man attuned to world politics.

   Little does Bachlin know that Kwon is actually a ruthless bandit who deals in stolen pharmaceuticals in the supposedly non-existent black market.

   The movie has its fair share of action, but it’s extremely preachy as well and takes its good time to get going. It’s at least twenty to thirty minutes into the film before the viewer has some idea of who is important to the main thrust of the story and who isn’t.

   There’s also something very old fashioned about Peking Express that’s difficult to put into words, but easy to feel when watching. It almost feels like a silent film that came to full “talkie” life, if that makes any sense. Still, the train sequences are very well done and those who like movies set on trains will find a lot to appreciate here.

   Overall, a solid adventure film that benefits from a professional cast who took their roles seriously. But it’s nothing you’re going to want to watch a second time. It just doesn’t have enough energy for that.

CALCUTTA. Paramount Pictures, 1946. Alan Ladd, Gail Russell, William Bendix, June Duprez. Directed by John Farrow.

   While definitely not one of the better known films Alan Ladd ever starred in, Calcutta (1946) definitely punches above its weight and is well worth a look. Similar to the other exotic location films Ladd starred in throughout the 1940s and 1950s, Ladd portrays an adventurer who is caught up in a whirlwind of crime and intrigue.

   When Neale Gordon (Ladd), a commercial pilot in post-WW2 India, learns that his colleague and friend Bill Cunningham was strangled in a Calcutta back alley, he becomes determined to solve the case on his own. Along for the ride is fellow pilot Pedro Blake (William Bendix).

   The main problem that Gordon encounters is that everyone he meets could potentially be a suspect, including the lovely Virginia Moore (Gail Russell), Cunningham’s fiancee. And that is what makes Calcutta work. There are layers upon layers of intrigue, suspicious characters with ulterior motives, and men and women with dubious intentions. The film captures the mood of post-WW2 Asia very well. The Japanese have been defeated, but what comes next?

   In some ways, Calcutta reminded me of The Maltese Falcon (1941). No, it’s not nearly as good a film and Ladd isn’t Bogart. But there’s a similarity in the sense that, at some point, the labyrinthian plot doesn’t matter as much as the characters and the atmosphere. That’s definitely true for this John Farrow-directed feature.

BILLY BUDD. Allied Artists, 1962. Robert Ryan, Terrence Stamp, Peter Ustinov, Melvyn Douglas, John Neville, David McCallum, Lee Montague, and Niall MacGinnis. Adapted by Peter Ustinov, DeWitt Bodeen, and Robert Rossen, from the novel by Herman Melville. Produced & directed by Peter Ustinov.

   I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating: “If you only see one movie in your entire life, it should be… Chamber of Horrors” (Warners, 1966).

   But if you think you could possibly stretch it to Two, you could do a lot worse than Billy Budd.

   Actor/writer/producer/director Ustinov shaped Melville’s ponderous novella into a compelling fable of Good vs Evil, played to perfection by Terrence Stamp as Billy, the ingenuous merchant seaman pressed into the Royal Navy, and Robert Ryan as Claggett, the sadistic Master-at-Arms who sets out to destroy him.

   It’s a film that works on many levels, mostly because Ustinov chose to write it that way. The story of Budd and Claggett plays out against a backdrop of colorfully painted characters, all the way from Ustinov’s cautious Captain, down to Melvyn Douglas’ thoughtful sail-mender, with stops along the way for class-conscious officers, scrappy sailors, squealers, and entry-level killers.

   The conflict that plays out against this background is not so much a clash of personalities as it is one of alternative realities. Budd is so genuinely guileless and decent that he quickly becomes beloved by his crewmates and respected by his superiors. Claggett, on the other hand, lives on hate. He breathes it in and out as decent men breathe air. And when he and Billy confront each other — in a brilliantly imagined and deftly played scene — it’s Claggett who wavers. And Billy who pays the price.

   Ustinov also owes a debt of gratitude to Producer Ustinov for getting most of this filmed outdoors on shipboard (or a reasonable facsimile) with a minimum of fakey process shots. The total effect is to demystify the tale and lend the natural power of the Seas to its telling.

GYPSY WILDCAT. Universal Pictures, 1944. Maria Montez, Jon Hall, Peter Coe, Nigel Bruce, Leo Carrillo, Gale Sondergaard, Douglass Dumbrille. Screenplay: James Hogan, Gene Lewis, and James M. Cain. Director: Roy William Neill.

   Filmed in lush Technicolor, Roy William Neill’s Gypsy Wildcat stars Maria Montez and Jon Hall in a fun escapist adventure movie. Montez, as the Gypsy girl Carla, captivates the audience with her beauty and charm. Jon Hall, as Michael, provides the story with a male love interest for our exotic leading lady.

   In terms of plot, Gypsy Wildcat may ultimately not add up to all that much. Falsely accused of murdering Count Orso, Michael (Hall) shacks up with a Gypsy caravan. On his trail is the mischievous Baron Tovar (Douglass Dumbrille) who seeks to not only capture Michael, but to marry Carla and steal her royal birthright. It’s Robin Hood, Errol Flynn type of fare and nothing that requires too much thought.

   What struck me the most was how absolutely saturated in color the movie turned out to be. Whether it is a Gypsy festival at the beginning of the film or a choreographed fight sequence, color schemes play a vital role in bringing this film to life. It makes for a highly enjoyable viewing experience. Which, of course, was the whole point of this production.

   While the ending is both way too abrupt and predictable, most of the storyline is seamless and works quite well. Of note, hardboiled writer James M. Cain is one of three writers credited with the screenplay. But don’t let that fool you. The material here is lighthearted and not even remotely noir.

   A final word. It’s long been my contention that Roy William Neill remains one of the most underappreciated directors of his era. Much like The Black Room, which I reviewed here a decade ago, Gypsy Wildcat punches well above its weight, thanks to a director who took the subject matter seriously.