Hammer Horror?

A musical murder mystery? Yes, you read that right. . . and that was the type of film you often saw during the Pre-Code era. If 1934's Murder at the Vanities was made just six months later, it never would have passed code and been released – fortuitous for the film makers and us. Directed by Mitchell Leisen, this on stage/backstage premise finds Jack Ellery (Jack Oakie – The Great Dictator) putting on a sumptuous musical revue, featuring his two stars, an Austrian making his American debut, Eric Lander (Carl Brisson), and up and coming Ann Ware (Kitty Carlisle). Unbeknownst to everyone, a whirlwind romance has swooped up between the two stars. . . and they plan to marry after the opening show (they make the announcement upon their arrival at the theatre).

1984's Red Dawn, adapted for the screen and directed by John Milius, has been called many things – ‘the most right-wing blockbuster ever made’, ‘the most violent movie ever made’. . . but, by today’s standards, it is hard to take all of this too seriously (especially that latter statement – things have gotten a whole lot bloodier as time has gone by). An entertaining (if outrageous) B-style movie premise that pulls from old westerns (think High Noon, Rio Bravo and The Cowboys) and guerrilla warfare tactics, this version of 1989 (it is set five years in the future) finds a secret Russian, Cuban, and Nicaraguan alliance bringing with it an unexpected invasion of the United States. . . seen specifically in Calumet, Colorado (this the beginnings of World War III).

I have to wonder whether John Hughes ever saw the Harold Lloyd short film I Do (1921), directed by Hal Roach. . . as its story shares some striking similarities to his festive holiday classic script for Home Alone (1990), directed by Chris Columbus. A twenty-two minute ditty on a newly married couple, The Boy (Lloyd) joins in union with The Girl (Mildred Davis – who would marry Lloyd just two short years later) – a nice touch finds some early animation depicting the ceremony. Flashing forward to a year later, a gag makes us first think they may have already had their own child. . . but it is not so. . . and maybe that’s a good thing. Asked to babysit the two children of the Brother-in-Law (William Gillespie), the narrative definitely doesn’t hold anything back – as they are named The Disturbance (Jack Morgan) and The Annoyance (Jack Edwards).

One of the most iconic films showing off 1960s London (specifically 1966) is intriguingly written and shot by an Italian, Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blowup (which is sometimes hyphenated or has a space between the two words), an abstract vision of this most unique and swinging time. Seen through the eyes (or should I say camera – a sort of heightened reality) of famed photographer Thomas (David Hemmings), it is immediately noticeable that he is a walking juxtaposition. Both energetic and apathetic, he has more ups and downs than a roller coaster. Lacking passion or a proper plan, the story, like his unknown future aspirations, doesn’t follow a traditional plot pattern.

Long before the wilderness of Alberta awed and amazed in Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s 2015 frontiersman epic The Revenant, it was widely featured in an impressive Technicolor CinemaScope picture, Otto Preminger’s 1954 western River of No Return. Shot in the beauty of Banff and Jasper National Parks (though some of the river scenes are shot at Salmon River in Idaho – where the actual story takes place), the scrumptious background is matched by the glorious foreground. . . which held two Hollywood greats – the chiseled features of Robert Mitchum and a woman whose looks need no descriptors, Marilyn Monroe (a rather intriguing historical note finds the actress causing a pile-up on the main street of Jasper while walking down the street in her tight-fitting jeans that she wears throughout most of the movie).

A pre-Code movie that by today’s standards might not seem all that controversial, but would not have made it to theatres just one year later (when the Production Code started to be enforced), 1933's Torch Singer, directed by Alexander Hall and George Somnes, provides an intriguing snapshot of the time. Centred on a strong female performance (something less rare than you might expect for the 1930s) by Claudette Colbert, she plays Sally Trent, a young woman who quickly slept with her first love. . . only to find out she’s pregnant. Pause!