Batman (1943) ch05 – The Living Corpse

Shockingly, The Living Corpse actually doesn’t involve a living corpse. It’s far from the most dynamic living corpse in cinema history, but it’s at least present in the chapter it entitles.

The Corpse has most to do with J. Carrol Naish’s half of the chapter. He’s got two schemes, with one being his orders from Japan. Somehow, Batman’s government handler knows to contact him with information about that scheme so Lewis Wilson and Douglas Croft are able to try to stop it.

The opening cliffhanger resolution is, once again, lame. The resolution to this chapter’s cliffhanger will undoubtedly be lame as well, but might even be the exact same resolution. Whoever was in charge of plotting out the chapter finishes did a terrible job.

The ending action is indoors–sort of, it’s on an airplane–and Hillyer’s direction is lacking. The set is way too big and Hillyer and cinematographer James S. Brown Jr. have a hard time keeping the shots tight enough.

The much older stunt double for seventeen year-old Croft also stands out. It’s like an entirely different person has entered the fist fight.

There’s some strong editing from Dwight Caldwell and Earl Turner here though. Stronger than Batman needs (or deserves).

Batman (1943) ch04 – Slaves of the Rising Sun

When the chapter title refers to Slaves of the Rising Sun, I guess it means J. Carol Naish’s traitorous American henchmen. They really don’t do anything; well, Robert Fiske argues with Naish about Japan’s chances in the war to ill result, but otherwise, they don’t really do anything. They don’t even get enough personality to be yes men.

After yet another weak cliffhanger resolution, Rising Sun sets up the chapter’s action. Shirley Patterson is going to a mystic to find her missing uncle. She asks Lewis Wilson to go with, but he acts the foppish playboy so he can secretly go as Batman and save the day. See, he’s realized it’s a trap for Patterson and he wants to find out more about Naish’s gang (even though he doesn’t know anything about Naish).

Doesn’t quite work out in Wilson’s favor so he and Douglas Croft end up chasing some bad guys.

It’s not a terrible car chase at the end; like much of Hillyer’s action direction, it goes perfectly fine until all of a sudden Hillyer fumbles on something and the serial can’t recover. The turning point in Rising Sun is when Batman climbs down into the cab of the bad guy’s truck and the driver just watches him without reacting. He must be a cautious driver.

Also of interest? Once again, the cliffhanger resolution establishes Batman has committed manslaughter in his derring-do. Wilson–though Croft too to some degree–are inordinately incompetent as crimefighters.

Batman (1943) ch03 – The Mark of the Zombies

Despite a tantalizing title, The Mark of the Zombies has nothing to do with zombies’ marks. If there is a zombie, it’s Gus Glassmire, who’s just been electronically brainwashed by J. Carrol Naish. Glassmire still refuses to sell out the U.S. to Japan–it’s inexplicable why Naish asks him again, as nothing’s changed other than Batman and Robin foiling Naish’s plans. Anyway, then there’s the electronic brainwashing sequence and a “zombie” Glassmire.

And he promptly disappears from the chapter. Without a mark on him.

Lewis Wilson and Douglas Croft try once again to trap Naish’s henchmen, but fail again. They actually fail twice. One thing about Batman and Robin… they’re really, really bad at their jobs. There’s a big fight sequence–where cowering William Austin has some great comedic moments–only it’s not like Wilson and Croft are any good at beating up the thugs.

The thugs escape and the heroes pursue, setting up the cliffhanger, which is another weak one. Sadly, it’s also when Mark gets its most exciting. When the action is on a sound stage and complicated–this time a train trestle–director Hillyer does a perfectly solid job. It’s exciting.

Until that weak cliffhanger.

Also interesting is how much more time is spent with the villains than the heroes. Shirley Patterson–rescued again, though no doubt soon to be in danger once more–isn’t even conscious this time out. It’s a shame since Wilson and Croft save her in costume, yet take her and wait with her at the doctor’s out of costume.

Logic isn’t one of the screenwriters’ competencies, much less strengths.

Batman (1943) ch02 – The Bat’s Cave

While the resolution to the previous chapter’s cliffhanger is extremely lackluster, The Bat’s Cave sort of recovers as it goes along. It just has to get through Batman Lewis Wilson terrifying butler William Austin with the radioactive laser gun.

Then it’s time for villain J. Carol Naish to order the kidnapping of Shirley Patterson and for Wilson and Douglas Croft to have to mount a rescue. Director Hillyer does all right, especially considering the budget, as Wilson and Croft investigate in disguise before suiting up in their long johns.

The finale has some strong action involving a power line (clearly shot on a set then cutting to James S. Brown Jr.’s underwhelming day-for-night photography) and a decent fight sequence where Wilson and Croft take on the kidnappers.

Hillyer does try to cover the budget deficiencies, but there’s only so much he can do. A nightclub scene, with recycled establishing shots, doesn’t impress and neither does the “Bat’s Cave”, where Wilson and Croft apparently hold criminals (without restraint) next to Batman’s brooding desk.

Sadly, despite the steady action in the second half, this chapter’s cliffhanger is even weaker than the last one. Though it will be interesting to see if everyone survives this one–the opening resolution apparently kills off a bystander as it rescues Wilson.

Batman (1943) ch01 – The Electrical Brain

The first chapter of Batman introduces the main cast–Lewis Wilson and Douglas Croft as Batman and Robin (and their alter egos), villain J. Carrol Naish, damsel in distress Shirley Patterson–and establishes some of the ground situation. Naish is an evil Japanese agent (if Electric Brain is any indication, Batman is going to be exceptionally racist) who kidnaps Patterson’s uncle. He’s got a ray gun, a secret lair, mind control devices, all sorts of gadgets.

He’s also got henchman who can beat up Wilson and Croft without much trouble.

There’s not much establishing for Wilson and Croft; I’m not even sure they get their civilian identities. And Brain skips any Batman origin–there’s a quick line of dialogue suggesting Batman and Robin are unofficial domestic agents, trying to root out Axis evil on the home front.

Decent (enough) performances from Wilson and Patterson–and an amiable one from Croft–work in spite of the script. When he’s not in costume running around, Wilson’s mostly a boob. And Naish and his goons are pretty dim, so Wilson comes off as incompetent, which doesn’t help things.

There’s only the one big action sequence, setting up the cliffhanger. Wilson and Croft get mercilessly beat up. While problematic for the narrative, it is the only time the Batman costume looks all right. Dwight Caldwell and Earl Turner’s editing, both on the fisticuffs and an early car chase, is solid. There’s only so much they can do with the material though.

The teaser for the second chapter is particularly weak–and completely unrelated to the cliffhanger, like the filmmakers knew the cliffhanger wasn’t compelling.

Journey Into Fear (1943, Norman Foster)

Journey Into Fear has a number of insignificant problems, a couple significant ones, and one major one. The major one is Foster’s direction. It’s not bad, it makes good use of the sets, it even uses some of the supporting cast well, but it’s not frightening, it’s not exciting. Journey Into Fear, not just because of the title, has to be frightening, it has to be. And it’s not. Foster shoots too much of Fear like a melodrama–albeit a quirky one–and his crew does the same. There’s nothing foreboding in Roy Webb’s score, not even when Fear finally gets exciting at the end, and Karl Struss’s photography’s a little flat. Competent, but flat. And it doesn’t utilize the sets well.

The film runs just under seventy minutes, which wrongly implies a spry pace. Instead, there’s an awkward opening with American munitions expert Joseph Cotten (who also wrote the screenplay) in danger in Turkey. His wife–a wasted, but still momentarily wonderful Ruth Warrick–knows little to nothing about it. Cotten’s been hanging out with a bad influence–Everett Sloane in a fun smaller part–and ends up in protective custody. Orson Welles’s the cop. He has a good time chewing the scenery as an action hero. So, a bunch of good performances in an awkwardly paced first act, which has little bearing on the rest of the film. Sure, Welles tells Cotten who’s after him, but it doesn’t really matter. They could have any motive, the point is the, you know, Fear.

Most of the film takes place on a freighter; Cotten’s smuggling himself to safety. There are a bunch of eclectic passengers, there’s a flirtation interest for Cotten, there’s presumably danger to Cotten. Dolores del Rio is the flirtation interest. There’s a significant portion of the film where it could just be an unfunny comedy of errors–del Rio’s business parter, Jack Durant, thinks Cotten wants to marry her–because there’s not even a threat to Cotten’s wellbeing. He’s just an inconvenienced tourist.

All the eclectic passengers are good–Eustace Wyatt, Agnes Moorehead, Frank Readick, Edgar Barrier–and Cotten, as screenwriter, does give each of them a little to do but it’s not enough. Moorehead and Readick are this hilarious married couple–Fear actually would’ve been better with someone who could appreciate the humor better as well–only neither gets enough to do. Especially Moorehead, who Foster introduces in long shot no less.

The third act seems like it might save the film, especially once there’s an action sequence. Only then it slips again. Journey Into Fear is disappointing given the cast–given it reunites Cotten and Welles (though they’re clearly having a great time together), given it’s a Welles production, given everything. Foster just never finds the right pace for the film, never the right tone. It’s a shame.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Norman Foster; screenplay by Joseph Cotten, based on the novel by Eric Ambler; director of photography, Karl Struss; edited by Mark Robson; music by Roy Webb; released by RKO Radio Pictures.

Starring Joseph Cotten (Howard Graham), Orson Welles (Colonel Haki), Dolores del Rio (Josette Martel), Ruth Warrick (Mrs. Stephanie Graham), Jack Durant (Gogo Martel), Eustace Wyatt (Prof. Haller), Everett Sloane (Kopeikin), Agnes Moorehead (Mrs. Mathews), Frank Readick (Matthews), Edgar Barrier (Kuvetli) and Jack Moss (Peter Banat).


THIS POST IS PART OF THE AGNES MOOREHEAD BLOGATHON HOSTED BY CRYSTAL OF IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS OF CLASSIC HOLLYWOOD.


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Five Graves to Cairo (1943, Billy Wilder)

On one hand, Five Graves to Cairo is a solid stage adaptation. Director Wilder, who adapted the play with Charles Brackett, makes it feel like a film. On the other hand, Cairo–partially because Wilder sticks to the setting so thoroughly and never opens up the film–doesn’t really go anywhere. After implying complications, it ends just another WWII propaganda picture.

Presumably unintentionally, with two awful “rah-rah” endings instead of just one, Cairo disappoints a little less than if it stuck with the first.

It still has some rather good acting and some rather good writing throughout. Wilder opens the film with a fantastic sequence of lead Franchot Tone escaping a runaway tank. Beautiful John F. Seitz photography, both in the desert and once Tone reaches a hotel and momentary safety. The Germans show up a few minutes later.

There are some neat twists in the plot and Tone’s character, who’s not too bright and knows it, is a fine lead. Anne Baxter is the French chambermaid who cares only for herself and not the war effort. Will she ever learn the value of sacrifice? Regardless if she does or not, Baxter plays the part rather well. It’s too bad Wilder and Brackett don’t give her more to do.

Erich von Stroheim has a lot of fun as Rommel. Peter van Eyck is fine as his sidekick and Baxter’s verboten paramour. Akim Tamiroff’s likable in an underwritten part.

Some great editing from Doane Harrison, even during the weak finale.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by Billy Wilder; screenplay by Charles Brackett and Wilder, based on a play by Lajos Biró; director of photography, John F. Seitz; edited by Doane Harrison; music by Miklós Rózsa; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Franchot Tone (Cpl. John J. Bramble), Anne Baxter (Mouche), Akim Tamiroff (Farid), Peter van Eyck (Lt. Schwegler), Fortunio Bonanova (Gen. Sebastiano) and Erich von Stroheim (Field Marshal Erwin Rommel).



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THIS POST IS PART OF THE BILLY WILDER BLOGATHON 2015 HOSTED BY KELLEE OF OUTSPOKEN & FRECKLED and AURORA OF ONCE UPON A SCREEN.


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The More the Merrier (1943, George Stevens)

The More the Merrier is a wondrous mix of comedy (both slapstick and screwball) and dramatic, war-time romance. Director Stevens is expert at both–that war-time romance angle is as gentle as can be, with Stevens relying heavily on leads Jean Arthur and Joel McCrea to be able to toggle between both. And they do, ably. Arthur and McCrea have spellbinding chemistry in the film.

But the film doesn’t open with either of them. It opens with–and stays with–Charles Coburn’s character. He’s in town on business (Merrier’s set in Washington DC during the WWII housing shortage) and his series of misadventures, fueled by that fantastic Coburn superiority, gets him a room with Arthur. And, subsequently, McCrea (bunking with Coburn).

The beauty of Coburn’s character is how he too toggles, but between being a slightly absentminded buffoon (he and McCrea’s goof-off scenes together are great) and a really serious businessman.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s got the distraction of McCrea while she deals with her politicking fiancé (and boss) Richard Gaines. Once the flirtation between McCrea and Arthur kicks in, which takes until the second half of the film, Merrier has this glorious new depth to it. Arthur and McCrea are just amazing, which I already said, but it needs to be said again.

Great direction from Stevens–he’s got a number of sublime shots–and photography from Ted Tetzlaff.

Stevens, Arthur, McCrea and Coburn make the film’s dramatic elements superior thanks to the absurdist comedy. It’s brilliant.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Produced and directed by George Stevens; screenplay by Robert Russell, Frank Ross, Richard Flournoy and Lewis R. Foster, based on a story by Russell and Ross; director of photography, Ted Tetzlaff; edited by Otto Meyer; music by Leigh Harline; released by Columbia Pictures.

Starring Jean Arthur (Connie Milligan), Joel McCrea (Joe Carter), Charles Coburn (Benjamin Dingle), Richard Gaines (Charles J. Pendergast), Bruce Bennett (FBI Agent Evans), Frank Sully (FBI Agent Pike), Donald Douglas (FBI Agent Harding), Clyde Fillmore (Senator Noonan) and Stanley Clements (Morton Rodakiewicz).


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The Underground World (1943, Seymour Kneitel)

The Underground World is absolutely gorgeous. The animation has its issues, but how the animators light their characters and how director Kneitel composes the frames… just breathtaking.

The story concerns Lois and Clark on an expedition to an underground cavern. Once they arrive, there’s trouble for Lois and they discover the totally absurd secret of the cavern. But the absurdity doesn’t matter because the cartoon is so gorgeous. In fact, once Superman shows up in this silly situation, it just keeps getting more and more amazing. Kneitel outdoes himself every shot.

Joan Alexander probably has the most to do as Lois; she’s really good in World. Bud Collyer’s Clark is a little too nonplussed, but that describes Jay Morton’s characterization of Clark in general.

As the scientist leading the expedition, Jackson Beck is weak. He shouldn’t be so noticeably bad, but it comes through.

Ignore him though, World’s magnificent.

I Walked with a Zombie (1943, Jacques Tourneur)

Before it stumbles through its third act, I Walked with a Zombie’s biggest problem is the pacing. It’s exceedingly boring during the second act. Its second biggest problem is it’s too short. The second act plays so poorly because there’s not enough going on, there’s just not time for it in sixty-eight minutes.

Otherwise, the film’s wondrous. Tourneur’s direction is sublime, beautiful music from Roy Webb, luscious black and white photography from J. Roy Hunt and these amazing sets. The film takes place on a small Caribbean island, with a nurse (Frances Dee) caring for a strangely ill woman. The nurse discovers she’s the fourth wheel on a love triangle between the woman and two brothers (Tom Conway and James Ellison).

The great performances from Conway and Ellison can’t make up for them disappearing occasionally for relatively long stretches. Dee’s fine in the lead–a more dynamic performance might have helped with the second act but nothing can fix the ending. Nice performances from James Bell, Edith Barrett and Theresa Harris too.

Some of the problem is the script, obviously. Curt Siodmak and Ardel Wray accelerate the romance between Dee and Conway and don’t actually give them a courtship. Instead, Ellison gets those scenes. And it’s never clear if Harris is a villain or not. Not to mention there being a mystery angle introduced late in the second act. It’s all a mess.

It’s a beautiful one, but Zombie’s often magnificent pieces don’t add up to a successful picture.