Tag: Lewis Stone

The Hoodlum Saint (1946, Norman Taurog)

The Hoodlum Saint is a surprisingly long ninety-four minutes, though since it takes place over eleven years (at least), I suppose some plodding is to be expected. There’s plenty not to be expected about Hoodlum Saint, starting with the time period. It begins in 1919, with a fifty-four-year-old William Powell returning from the Great War to discover, well, son, if it was up to me….

He was a newspaperman, which for a bit seems like Saint is going to be a newspaper picture. It’s not.

Once he doesn’t get his job back—an uncredited Will Wright plays the editor, establishing Saint’s going to reunite Powell with a half dozen (at least) MGM or Thin Man costars—but once he doesn’t get his job back, we find out Powell’s friends with the local hoods. The film starts in Baltimore. James Gleason, Rags Ragland, Frank McHugh, and Slim Summerville play the hoods. Gleason’s the boss and has something of a story arc (directly related to the title, no less), while the rest are just comic relief. McHugh disappears for a large portion of the second act… then Ragland disappears for a large part of the third act. They’re all fine. Nothing wrong with Saint is any of the actors’ faults.

So then it seems like it’s going to be some kind of crime picture; Powell heads with the hoods down to the local Catholic Church, where he tells off the priest; he’s in it for number one now. Only then it’s this strange business comedy where Powell enlists the hoods’ help in… getting him into a wedding party so he can hobnob with the wealthy and beg a job off one.

Except before he can meet a rich guy, he meets Esther Williams. He’s crashing the party and kisses her to throw off suspicion. Williams is twenty-five. Not in the movie; they never discuss the pronounced age difference, but Powell’s at least supposed to be in his thirties, possibly forties, given how they old age make-up him by the end. It’s so obvious you think they’re going to comment on it.

They never comment on it. It’s also not going to be a romantic comedy about coworkers—Williams works at the paper where Powell gets a job after meeting her. He’s really just interested in it so he can go off and become a millionaire in New York City. That ambition works out for Powell, except the hoods all come along because Baltimore’s no fun without him (bailing them out of jail); Williams stays. Their relationship is so chaste at this point, it’s not even for sure she’s the romantic interest.

In New York City, Powell catches the eye of the even more inappropriately aged Angela Lansbury; she’s a club singer. Lansbury’s twenty-one. I guess she also ages a decade throughout, though she disappears for long stretches because Powell’s love interests aren’t crucial to the main plot. The main plot—at what must be halfway through the movie because Powell’s already a wealthy businessman—involves St. Dismas, the Good Thief from the crucifixion, who is, you guessed it, the hoodlum’s Saint. Powell wants to prank Gleason instead of just bailing him out, so he has the other hoods pretend they’ve been converted, then Lansbury’s going to bail him out with the name Dismas.

Gleason will become a changed man over the next few years, dedicating himself to charity work.

And then the stock market. Because by 1929, double millionaire Powell convinces all the working stiffs to play the stock market. Also, he’s given up on Williams, who couldn’t wait forever for him.

So, the stock market crash will cause Powell severe emotional distress, and it’s going to get him into the third act, where Hoodlum Saint becomes an “atheist sees the light” movie. With Hays Code constraints.

It’s a very, very weird movie. And never anywhere near as good as it ought to be with the cast. While Powell and Williams can banter, both comedically and dramatically, director Taurog’s shockingly bad at directing their scenes. Hoodlum Saint ought to be easy studio fodder; instead, it’s clunky and meandering. The parts are too thin, but the acting’s universally solid. Powell, Williams, Gleason, Lansbury. The script—from James Hill and Frank Wead—does them no favors.

Terrible, silly music from Nathaniel Shilkret (like slide whistle sounds) does a lot of damage, but Ray June’s photography is good. Unfortunately, Ferris Webster’s editing is not, but it appears to be more lack of good footage from Taurog.

Hoodlum Saint is a tedious movie with an excellent cast reduced to middling performances thanks to the script and direction.

This post is part of the Third Esther Williams Blogathon hosted by Michaela of Love Letters to Old Hollywood.

Scaramouche (1952, George Sidney)

Scaramouche is a deliberately constructed film. I’m curious if screenwriters Ronald Millar and George Froeschel followed the source novel’s plot structure, because it’s a very peculiar series of events. It doesn’t open with the leading man, instead starting out with villain Mel Ferrer. Janet Leigh, as his love interest, gets introduced long before Eleanor Parker–who’s second-billed and leading man Stewart Granger’s love interest.

Except, of course, Ferrer and Granger are Frenchmen so the idea of them having one love interest is… against their character. But there’s also the matter of Richard Anderson, who sort of sets off the big plot–Granger’s want for vengeance–and on and on.

Director Sidney does a beautiful job focusing the viewers attention where it needs to be in each scene, but also where it’s going to need to be in the next scene. A couple huge details–maybe even three–only come up in dialogue. Scaramouche isn’t a film for the disinterested viewer.

But it’d be hard not to be enraptured with the picture. Charles Rosher’s lush color cinematography–which equally showcases the fantastic location action sequences but also the eye-shadow they’ve got on Parker–makes for a transfixing experience.

All the acting is good. Granger’s an able leading man, Ferrer’s fantastic as the villain, Parker’s outstanding in the most complicated role. In the second most complicated (the men aren’t complicated though so it’s not much), Leigh occasionally wavers but is still quite strong.

Wonderful Victor Young score too.

Scaramouche is delightfully thrilling.

Suzy (1936, George Fitzmaurice)

The war story love triangle: girl mets boy, girl marries boy, girl thinks boy dies, girl meets second boy, girl marries second boy, first boy returns, one of the boys dies. Suzy isn’t even an interesting spin on it. The film throws in a relationship between lower class Jean Harlow with her upper class father-in-law Lewis Stone in an attempt to make the story poignant, to give her character some depth, but it fails miserably. Watching the scenes with the two of them, the attempted manipulation reeks. The two aren’t bad together, but Suzy works at its best during moments of high charisma. Cary Grant (as the second boy) has a lot of it, but Franchot Tone’s actually got more in his scenes. Tone’s doing an Irish accent for most of the film (it appears after his first or second scene) and it’s mildly grating, but he’s still good. Harlow ranges, when the character makes sense, she’s good. When it doesn’t, she’s only okay. Unfortunately, the script rarely bothers making sense.

The film does succeed on a few levels, mostly due to George Fitzmaurice’s direction. It has two definite periods–England before the war and France during–and Fitzmaurice gives each part of the film an atmosphere. These distinctions don’t help the film much, but it’s good work and it makes the film a more pleasant experience. His direction of dramatic scenes is pat–a lengthy long shot followed by some close-ups and then a medium shot–but the sets are at least nice. The supporting cast helps a lot in Suzy–Una O’Connor’s got a great scene and there are some others… The film’s quality isn’t particularly bumpy. It does get better after awhile and might actually approach getting good, but it betrays the story in the end. I timed the last act, trying to guess the resolution to the love triangle and figured for a couple scenes–one between Harlow and the winner and another with Lewis Stone, since the film hung everything on he and Harlow’s friendship. Following a couple great action scenes–one of them was just flying footage from Hell’s Angels, but the other one must have been Fitzmaurice unless Suzy was written to match Hell’s Angels leftover shots–the film stops. The love triangle’s resolved, but there’s nothing else. It becomes a war picture for the first time. Instead of finishing the characters’ stories, the audience gets a bit about valor and distinction and then a “The End.”

Dorothy Parker and Alan Campbell wrote (some of) Suzy and, according to IMDb, they were a highly paid screenwriting team. They were a waste of money.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by George Fitzmaurice; screenplay by Dorothy Parker, Alan Campbell, Horace Jackson and Lenore J. Coffee, based on the novel by Herbert Gorman; director of photography, Ray June; edited by George Boemler; music by William Axt; produced by Maurice Revnes; released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Starring Jean Harlow (Suzy), Franchot Tone (Terry), Cary Grant (Andre), Lewis Stone (Baron), Benita Hume (Madame Eyrelle), Reginald Mason (Captain Barsanges), Inez Courtney (Maisie), Greta Meyer (Mrs. Schmidt), David Clyde (‘Knobby’), Christian Rub (‘Pop’ Gaspard), George Spelvin (Gaston) and Una O’Connor (Landlady).

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