With the massive success of Laurel and Hardy, who producer Hal Roach had paired together after signing them separately in 1926 (they would remain with his studio until 1940), the man had the bright idea of creating a female counterpart duo, bringing together Zasu Pitts and Thelma Todd. The team would make seventeen popular shorts from 1931-33, their first two, Let’s Do Things and Catch-As Catch-Can, looked at here today. Like all good comedy teams, you have two very different character types. Zasu comes across as the slightly depressed, nervous and fretful brunette, while Thelma is a much more vibrant and colourful blonde dame. . . the former’s desperation often dragging her more put together friend into rather unorthodox situations. In Let’s Do Things, they find themselves as employees selling music for a giant department store... while looking for a way out of their dead-end jobs.
Though not one of Buster Keaton’s most iconic shorts, 1921's The Haunted House is, at its best, like one of those uber-fun Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? chase scenes – ghosts, skeletons, demons and other unexpected spooks flitting in and out of rooms and doorways, dodging, ducking, dipping, chasing, and ultimately, scaring our jarred, though still somehow stone-faced, hero. Where it struggles slightly is its setup. Keaton is a clerk, a hard working employee at a small time bank. The larger than life money manager (behemoth Joe Roberts) has hatched a plan to rob said bank, his team of thieves looking to a crumbling old home, long rumoured to be haunted, as their hidy-hole – preparing for the cops or any other unlucky trespasser, they have booby-trapped the long since abandoned abode while also gathering white sheets to act as ghosts, building on its infamous reputation. After a glue gag that kind of falls flat, Keaton is spotted by the owner with guns in hand (after having chased off the robbers) – it looking like he is the criminal mastermind. . . fleeing, he hopes to find respite in the haunted house.
“So gentlemen prefer blondes, do they?” What a way to open a film. . . famed platinum blonde Jean Harlow, face wrapped in a hot towel at a beauty salon, utters this self-referential line (in many ways breaking the fourth wall and speaking directly to the audience – her hair now dyed red), only for things to delve into more intriguing terrain. . . the next snippet finds the dame trying on a dress – asking if you can see through the material, the shop worker answers in the affirmative, to which she perkily states, “I’ll wear it”. Vignettes with a purpose, each moment gives us a viewpoint into the world of one Lil Andrews (Harlow), a Red-Headed Woman with a plan.
A horror premise as old as it is entertaining, Elliott Nugent’s 1939 film The Cat and the Canary finds an extended family coming together for the reading of their uncle’s will – ten years to the day of his death. A remake of the 1927 silent classic (the idea came from a 1922 stage play of the same name by John Willard), screenwriters Walter DeLeon and Lynn Starling fuse the narrative with a deft comedic touch, resembling the Abbott and Costello horror features that were soon to come – movies that were magically able to play the horror parts for horror and the comedy parts for comedy. Set in a gothic-style plantation home in the middle of the Bayou, the vines envelop the property, the alligator filled water and lush landscape swallowing the dilapidated mansion that likely once stood out, a grand example of man conquering nature. Somewhat resembling Poe’s House of Usher, the property is managed by a mysterious and menacing housekeeper, Miss Lu (Gale Sondergaard) – it is implied that she was the owner’s mistress, a woman who welcomes (and I use that word loosely), the estate’s lawyer, Mr. Crosby (George Zucco), as well as Cyrus Norman’s only remaining heirs: famed actor Wally Campbell (Bob Hope) – who keeps guessing what will happen before it does thanks to his profession, fetching Joyce Norman (Paulette Goddard), mother and daughter Aunt Susan (Elizabeth Patterson) and Cicily (Nydia Westman), as well as nephews Fred Blythe (John Beal) and Charles Wilder (Douglass Montgomery).
In one of the most frank speeches in Oscar history, Leo McCarey, upon winning the Academy Award for Best Director, took the statuette, and boldly stated, “I want to thank the Academy for this wonderful award. . . but you gave it to me for the wrong picture”. For those who have seen Make Way For Tomorrow, you will immediately know why he said it (a picture with a message and one of the great endings in film history, Orson Welles once claimed, “it would even make a stone cry”), but, that is not to say that the movie that he won for, 1937's The Awful Truth, is not deserving of some praise. A motion picture that helped put the screwball comedy on the map (The Awful Truth was based on a 1922 play by Arthur Richman and filmed twice before this version), it earned six Oscar nods (claiming the trophy for McCarey) – a darling to critics and one of the top commercial successes of the decade, while its irreverent mix of slapstick (it immediately evident that McCarey directed silent comedies; for example, the works of Charlie Chase and Harold Lloyd, while also pairing Laurel and Hardy together, and into the sound era, The Marx Brothers), witty repartee, and folly filled characters make it an absolute charmer.
Ah, the way things were. Revel in the past for a moment, won’t you. Imagine walking into a movie theatre in 1960, preferably one built in the golden age of film watching – mohair seats, architectural detailing (crown moulding, wooden panelling), a proper sized atrium. . . and, as you make your way to your place, enjoying some popcorn as the lights dim, you are not bombarded by numerous commercials that take you out of that magic place (and sadly reminding you of the business-centric reality of show business), but rather, are greeted by an animated short, 1949's Sea Salts, the perfect lead-in to your Disney feature, Swiss Family Robinson. These two films did show back to back upon Swiss Family Robinson’s initial run, so they will both be reviewed here. Sea Salts, directed by Jack Hannah, finds ‘Mac’ Bootle Beetle (Dink Trout) recalling his long, rather unusual friendship with sea captain Donald Duck (Clarence Nash) – the pair were forced to abandon ship long ago, finding themselves stranded on a tiny, uncharted isle.
Finding its cinematic milieu somewhere between The Big Chill and The Hangover, 2018's Tag is at times infantile, crude, and must be described as all-around silly, yet, despite this, director Jeff Tomsic pieces it all together in a surprisingly entertaining way – hitting the right chord by way of its stylized action set pieces, clever dialogue and its unique plot (childhood comradery maintained over thirty long years by way of a simple kid’s game). Written for the screen by Mark Steilen and Rob McKittrick (and based upon a Wall Street Journal article entitled, “It Takes Planning, Caution to Avoid Being It” by Russell Adams – meaning that this is another based on true events tale), it tells the story of a group of friends who have been playing the same game of tag for thirty years (each May being the month where the all-out warfare happens). Now living in different cities, the group is comprised of an overly cocky businessman named Bob Callahan (Jon Hamm), a divorced, unemployed druggie, Randy ‘Chilli’ Cillano (Jake Johnson), a mentally fragile, outside the box thinker, Kevin Sable (Hannibal Buress), and the heart behind keeping the guys united, Hogan ‘Hoagie’ Malloy (Ed Helms). . . then there is their long hunted target, the hot-shot of the gang, Jerry Pierce (Jeremy Renner) – a man who has never been tagged in the three decades they have been playing (through a clever combination of speed, smarts, and feral brawn).