Star Pick with Kurt Angle

The General, often considered to be Buster Keaton’s magnum opus (and for good reason – thankfully it was re-evaluated after its initial release, which was not kind), also falls into the realm of being one of the most important train and Civil War films ever produced. To those who do not know the motion picture, they will likely believe that the title refers to the military designation, though it is actually the name of the train the story revolves around. Basically an intricately plotted, lengthy chase, Keaton co-wrote and co-directed the story along with Clyde Bruckman, it being based upon a famous, true Civil War happening, ‘The Great Locomotive Chase’ (also known as Andrews’ Raid). Keaton takes on the role of Johnnie Gray, a train engineer living in Georgia just as the bloody 1861 hostilities boil over. In love with only two things, his beloved locomotive and an angelic, brown haired woman, Annabelle Lee (Marion Mack), he is told by his love that he too must enlist (like her father and brother). The first in line, they reject him, seeing his present job as being of the utmost importance for the South.

A man – lonely, laconic and quick to anger. A woman – cool, collected and in hiding. Both live in the same apartment complex in The City of Angels. Murder brings them together, but will it keep them together? Written by Andrew Solt and directed by Nicholas Ray, In a Lonely Place immerses us within the world of a Hollywood screenwriter, the rough-and-tumble, explosive Dixon ‘Dix’ Steele (Humphrey Bogart – who also produces the film); an apropos name to be sure. Struggling with a multitude of demons, he is quick to anger and even quicker to act. Despite not having a hit since before the war, he is given a solid opportunity by his agent, Mel Lippman (Art Smith), who asks him to adapt a novel. Seemingly uninterested, he invites the club’s hat-check girl, Mildred Atkinson (Martha Stewart. . . not that Martha Stewart), to his home to summarize the book for him (as she has just finished reading it). Following their business, he sends her on her way, directing her to where cabs usually gather nearby.

Satirizing the stereotypical nature of Brits and Americans, John Cleese’s 1988 film A Fish Called Wanda, directed by Charles Crichton, is a kooky heist movie with loads of quirky humour. Following a gang of bank robbers, the group consists of a comic version of a femme fatale, Wanda (Jamie Lee Curtis), her secret lover pretending to be her brother, Otto (Kevin Kline), as well as an English duo, Georges Thomason (Tom Georgeson) and the severely stuttering Ken Pile (Michael Palin – he based the part on his father, who dealt with a similar issue). To further complicate things, Wanda is sleeping with Georges and is prone to flirting with Ken. Filled with doublecrosses and complications, Georges soon finds himself in jail – not knowing who put him behind bars. With only one quasi-witness, an elderly lady who spotted the man while they were driving away from the scene of the crime, the prisoner turns to his longtime compatriot Ken to finish the woman off in a way that will look accidental – knowing that without her, the case falls flat.

There may be no film with a more influential pedigree that is lesser known than the fantastical 1941 romantic dramedy Here Comes Mr. Jordan. Honoured with a sort-of-sequel (1947's Down to Earth – starring Rita Hayworth, it also features reprisals from actors James Gleason and Edward Everett Horton. . . which itself inspired the 1980 feature Xanadu), it was also remade by Warren Beatty in 1978 – titled Heaven Can Wait. Chris Rock had a go with the subject matter in 2001 with his version, Down to Earth – reusing the title from the original sequel. In 1968, it was even remade in India – Jhuk Gaya Aasman – English translation: The Skies Have Bowed. At one point, even Bill Cosby tried to get a version of the story produced – though this iteration fell through. The intensely bitter and sweet tale of a boxer who gets in a plane crash, which is followed by a mistake in Heaven, it can also be seen as the precursor and inspiration for motion pictures like A Guy Named Joe (1943), It’s A Wonderful Life (1946), A Matter of Life or Death (1946), The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), as well as so many others. Mashing together a multitude of genres which I will explain later, the boxer, Joe Pendleton (Robert Montgomery), who is soon to be competing for the world title, is gearing up for his next big bout. Trained by his loyal manager, Max Corkle (James Gleason), the two argue over the fact that he wants to fly himself to his next fight in New York City. Unable to convince the genial but stubborn athlete, it is soon after that he plummets to his ‘supposed’ death.

I often wish the studio system would turn back time (in a sense) and begin to focus on developing short films again. A wonderful way to cultivate and produce young talents (think Charlie Chaplin or The Three Stooges), it also provides the audience with fun, brief excursions into fantastic worlds before even delving into the main feature. Comedy, drama, horror and even action work nicely in shortened versions, which is why I like to highlight certain pint-sized motion pictures from time to time – today, we will look at Buster Keaton’s 1920 comedy The Scarecrow. A premier example of ingenuity and the genius of motion, the nineteen minute tale follows two farmhands (diminutive Keaton and the much larger Joe Roberts – another example of the ever-comical combo of fatty and skinny) as they vie for the hand of the youthful and pretty farmer’s daughter (Sybil Seely). The two room together in a house of contraptions – the record player seconds as a stove, bed as a solid wooden piece of furniture/piano, bathtub as a settee and so on. Perhaps even more impressive is their dinner table design – ropes hang from the rafters on pulleys, meaning that everything from salt and pepper to food and beverages are attainable from anywhere at the table (Keaton had originally developed a similar mechanism at their family’s summer home when he was just a child). When done, they have a speedy way to do the dishes as well – afterwhich the ropes disappear and a light fixture descends from the ceiling. It is a spy’s house without the spy.