A film noir with some eccentricities, The Big Steal (1949), directed by then third time film maker Don Siegel (who would go on to make such greats as Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Dirty Harry, and Escape from Alcatraz), plays like a long chase within a longer chase, while the meeting between gent and femme is something akin to a will they/won’t they screwball comedy. The usually laconic Lt. Duke Halliday (Robert Mitchum) is in quite the conundrum, as he has been robbed of a U.S. Army payroll totaling a whopping three hundred grand by swindler Jim Fiske (Patric Knowles). On the lam in Mexico (a rather rare noir location, also think Ride the Pink Horse and Touch of Evil), Halliday is on his trail... but the problem is, so is his superior – Captain Vincent Blake (William Bendix), who, of course, thinks it was actually the Lieutenant who ran off with the money.
An inside joke for fans of Buster Keaton, they surely know that he often wears a pork pie hat in his films. Well, while watching 1928's Steamboat Bill, Jr., there is a scene where his uncle takes him to buy a new hat – to replace the effeminate French beret that currently adorns his little head. A revolving number are tried on by the young man, with the closest to his original being wholeheartedly rejected. Though he does eventually purchase a much larger version of a pork pie hat, it flies off of his head and into the flowing river, not to be recovered. This, in many ways, is symbolic of the changing era the talented silent comedian found himself in. After the box office debacle that was The General (now considered one of his greatest features), Keaton was no longer blessed with carte blanche when making his movies – the studio keeping a keen eye on spending and limiting his overall control.
I was fortunate enough to sit down with legendary heavyweight boxer Gerry Cooney not too long ago. One of the biggest punchers to ever grace the bright lights of the ring, his career spanned from 1977 to 1990, a final record of twenty-eight wins and only three losses (twenty-four of those victories came by way of knockout). A towering six feet, six inches, and with an impressive eighty-one inch reach, the offensive minded boxer dismantled two legends of the sport, Ron Lyle and Ken Norton – leading him to a match with the great Larry Holmes, a spectacular bout that went into the thirteenth round, ending with Cooney losing by TKO. After three more convincing wins, Cooney faced two more formidable foes, Michael Spinks and George Foreman, the latter bringing an end to his illustrious career.
An observation I am sure many of you have made over the years is the general stupidity (and lack of skill) the villains, police or any other nefarious enemy has had in the movies. With the James Bond films being a prime example, it shows the low standards the maniacal mastermind must have had when hiring his henchmen – they cannot shoot, drive or seemingly do anything else, stumbling over each other in the process. Also think of John Wick or any other motion picture made over the past multiple decades. Well, it was this thought that struck me as I sat watching two early silent shorts from the comedic great Harold Lloyd (placed alongside Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton as the top comics of the silent era). Starting with 1919's Bumping into Broadway, it was the first time the actor donned his now-famous “glasses” character, usually just referred to as The Boy. A two-reeler that lasts twenty-five minutes, it has The Boy getting into all kinds of hijinks.
We often think of the western as being set in the sunbaked, sand-filled deserts of the John Wayne and Clint Eastwood epics. Turning this idea on its head, Robert Altman takes us into the frontier lands of the wet and snowy northwest (filmed in and around Vancouver, Canada), an equally picturesque yet no less hostile terrain, in the 1971 film McCabe & Mrs. Miller. Riding into town with his bushy beard and no less hairy fur coat, John McCabe (Warren Beatty) is a businessman looking for his next big opportunity. He sees the tiny, half-built town of Presbyterian Church (just over one hundred people) not as a hindrance, but as the perfect location to set up a one stop saloon, gambling den and whorehouse. Hiring some local men, they get to work while he heads off to procure the working girls – purchasing some lower class ladies for the gruff, rough, and equally low class frontier men of the area.
Showing off his immense skills in a rather unusual way, Buster Keaton heads to College in this 1927 feature that followed up The General; a Civil War set picture that is now known as a classic (and often considered his masterpiece), its expansive story bloated the budget and somehow brought lackluster reviews, leading to a rare bust at the box office. So, his next film (the above mentioned College) was designed to be more commercially viable and Keaton was reeled in, forced to be under the thumb of co-director James W. Horne (who according to Keaton, did virtually nothing) as well as producer Harry Brand (publicity chief for Keaton’s usual producer Joseph Schenck – he had just become president of United Artists), the latter constantly scrutinized every penny Keaton spent, making sure he didn’t go over budget like with The General. Further annoying the funnyman, the producer made sure that he received a "Supervised by Harry Brand" credit on the film. Receiving another batch of ungracious reviews, it was Keaton’s second bomb in a row. Despite that, College, like The General, is considered by most today to be a classic (though more of a middling effort compared to some of his other motion pictures).
The story of a down-and-out boxer and his adorable son, 1931's The Champ, directed by King Vidor, is a tale of struggle and hardship as well as family, love and hope. The former champ, Andy Purcell (Wallace Beery – he won the Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role in a rare tie with Frederic March), is for all intents and purposes, washed up. Though he is in the midst of training for his next bout, he continuously self-sabotages by turning to alcohol and then follows it up by playing dice, tossing the little money he has left away. His only saving grace is his young son, Dink (Jackie Cooper, one of The Little Rascals of the early sound era who went on to play Perry White in the first three Superman movies starring Christopher Reeve) – a child well beyond his years. A combination of tiny tramp and wise adult, he cares for his father like no one else. Trying to steer him away from booze and focus his wayward vision, he has a middling effect. Though his pleas reach his father, they do not stay his hand for long. The story is, in many ways, told through Dink’s eyes. The son of The Champ is usually followed by his trusty sidekick Jonah (Jesse Scott) and a plethora of other impoverished youths.