By the Skin of Your Teeth

As blunt as its title, Armored Car Robbery (1950) is fast-paced, intense, and to the point, a ninety-seven minute film noir (and one of the first heist movies) that brings us into an intricately planned robbery taking place in the City of Angels. Directed by Richard Fleischer (Soylent Green), the central crime takes place outside of Wrigley Field, so you might think the film maker has transported us to “Chicago, Chicago that toddling town, Chicago, Chicago I will show you around”, yet, don’t let the name confuse you. . . there was a second Wrigley that housed minor league teams until 1967 in Los Angeles. Entering the world of criminal mastermind Dave Purvis (William Talman), a man who has already pulled one impressive armored car robbery, every single moment of this venture is his plan.

A film noir that flips the script (transforming into something very different in the second act), Nicholas Ray’s On Dangerous Ground (1951), written by A.I. Bezzerides (Kiss Me Deadly), follows the director’s penchant for looking at tortured, lonely individuals (think In a Lonely Place; Rebel Without a Cause), our main figure initially placed against the backdrop of a busy metropolis. Jim Wilson (Robert Ryan) is a hardened police officer on the beat, a man who is as serious as cyanide, as lonely as the night, as cynical as, well. . . a cop. Surrounded by lowlifes, dangerous dames, and violent criminals, sadly, it is the only thing he has seen for years, twisting his spirit into a near inhuman, Guantanamo Bay-like level of hatred (physical abuse is his first step in getting answers) . . . all this has him closing in on a breakdown.

One of the most infamous horror films of all-time, 1932's Freaks can arguably be called the most daunting watch of the pre-Code era. Transporting the viewer inside the private part of the very public lives of a Great Depression era traveling circus, the film is populated by only a few professional actors, most of the cast featuring sideshow performers with real disabilities. So controversial was it that negative test screenings forced the MGM studio execs to edit out some of its more disturbing elements, chopping twenty-six minutes of its (at that time) ninety minute runtime – the original cut has sadly been lost. Further adding to its dark mystique, the picture’s director, Tod Browning, fresh off of the success of his gargantuan hit of the previous year, Dracula, was able to choose the project he wanted (and he, in retrospect, made the wrong choice with this unusual horror drama with romantic tinges). So repulsed were some critics, sections of America (and the world), as well as Hollywood elites, that it brought forth the end of his career at the prime age of fifty-two.

Celebrating its 75th anniversary this year (2020), 1945's House of Dracula, directed by Earl C. Kenton – Island of Lost Souls), is, in many ways, the last of the classic Universal monster movies. Although Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein and the three Creature from the Black Lagoon features would follow, this would be the final horror specific film that would centre upon their three most iconic monsters – Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolf Man (I apologize in advance for slighting the Invisible Man). Despite its slightly misleading title, all of the horror hijinks actually take place in and around the gothic castle of Dr. Franz Edlemann (Onslow Stevens), a surprisingly athletic older man (in reality, 43 years old) renowned for his dynamic and forward thinking form of medicine. Drawing the attention of Count Dracula (John Carradine), hiding behind the moniker of Baron Latos, and the perhaps more tortured than ever before Lawrence Talbot, a.k.a. the Wolf Man (Lon Chaney Jr. – the only actor to play the same monster every single time he appeared onscreen for Universal) – this time porting a mustache, both have sought him out – seemingly looking for a cure to their respective torturous affliction. Talk about quite the situation. . . Dracula moves into the basement, while Wolf Man takes residence in one of the upstairs bedrooms – not so sure if this a remedy for a good night’s sleep!

Could there be anything more embarrassing than being a mama’s boy? Well, there might just be – being a Grandma’s Boy (directed by Fred C. Newmeyer). Silent comic superstar Harold Lloyd’s second feature length film following 1921's A Sailor-Made Man, this 1922 offering, like its predecessor, spawned out of a smaller two-reel idea, growing into a richer, more in-depth narrative. Coming out a year after Charlie Chaplin’s seminal first full length feature, The Kid, the fellow comedic actor was enthralled by his so-called rival’s film – describing it as “one of the best constructed screenplays I have ever seen on the screen. . . The boy has a fine understanding of light and shape and that picture has given me a real artistic thrill and stimulated me to go ahead”.

Some things never change. . . and by that I mean true love. . . and by that I mean the love found between a newly rich older man and a much younger woman. . . case in point, 1937's 3 Dumb Clucks, directed by Del Lord – a Three Stooges classic. Larry (Larry Fine), Curly (Curly Howard) and Moe (Moe Howard) have found themselves in jail. . . watched over by a very simple and overly helpful Prison Guard (Frank Austin). Receiving a letter from their beloved mother, she asks her boys to escape their confines and help bring their father home to her. . . as he has made millions through the oil fields he owns and has taken up with a young blonde gold digger, Daisy (Lucille Lund).