BY JOHN M. WHALEN

Today on Coronavirus Playhouse, as we remained locked down in our houses watching DVDs and Blu-Rays, we have an interesting, if a bit unsettling, feature from Universal Studios, called “Canyon Passage” (1946). Dana Andrews, Brian Donlevy, and Susan Hayward star in a movie about mid-nineteenth-century life in a small community on the western frontier. Director Jacques Tourneur (Cat People, I Walk with a Zombie, Out of the Past) does the opposite of what John Ford did with this kind of film. Ford’s westerns showed a community that clung together and fought against the dangers of the wilderness and the hostile elements it contained. Tourneur, always a subversive filmmaker, shows us that a community can not only be warped by the environment in which it exists, it can collapse just as easily from within as without.

The film has a complicated plot for a western. The central dilemma involves two men in love with the same woman. One of the men, Logan Stuart (Dana Andrews), is a straight up sort of guy trying to run a freight company between the gold-mining town of Jacksonville and Portland, Oregon. He’s partners with George Camrose (Brian Donlevy), a likable guy who’s in charge of keeping the miner’s gold pokes locked in a safe, but who unfortunately, has a gambling addiction problem. He’s been stealing the miners’ gold dust to gamble. George is engaged to be married to Lucy Overmire (Susan Hayward), but it’s apparent early on that she may think Logan is the better catch. Both men are aware of the problem, but both know Logan is too honorable a guy to make a play for Lucy.

The romantic triangle plays out against the background of a community that’s also a bit out of kilter. Screenwriter Ernest Pascal, who adapted the screenplay from an Ernest Haycock novel, sets the scene early on, when Logan visits Portland’s assayer’s office and trades some gold dust for specie. The assayer comments on the danger of carrying around that much gold. “Gold is only yellow gravel, Cornelius,” Logan tells him. To which Cornelius replies: “But the yellow color makes all the difference.” Logan observes that “a man can choose his own gods. What are your gods?”

Logan’s next stop is the hotel where he finds Lucy Overmire, George’s fiancé. George was supposed to take her back to Jacksonville, but had to go somewhere else on business and asked Logan to bring her. Logan tells her to be ready early for their long ride to Jacksonville. Logan goes to his room and is awakened in the middle of the night by an intruder who tries to steal his saddlebag full of gold coin. Logan manages to fight him off with the intruder crashing through the hotel window and escaping into the rainy night. Logan suspects the robber was a man named Honey Bragg (Ward Bond), a hulking bully, whom Logan believes earlier killed two miners for their gold. When he reveals his suspicions to Lucy, she asks why he doesn’t press murder charges, and he replies that he didn’t see him do it, and wouldn’t want to make a mistake like that. “Things have to be dead even with you.” she says. “Is that it, Logan?”

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Once upon a time in Hollywood, studios weren't obsessed with "tent pole" series, mega-budget blockbusters and remakes of films (some of which probably shouldn't have been made in the first place.) To be sure, these aspects of the film industry were always embraced to a certain degree but there was also a concentration on developing mid-range budgeted films designed to make mid-ranged profits. Case in point: the little-remembered 1993 movie "Aspen Extreme", the brainchild of director and screenwriter Patrick Hasburgh, who had found success on television by co-creating the series "Hardcastle and McCormick" and "21 Jump Street" with Stephen J. Cannell. Hasburgh's achievements on the big screen were non-existent, however. Yet, he convinced Disney's Hollywood Pictures division to finance "Aspen Extreme", a youth-oriented drama that centers on two lifelong friends: T.J. Burke (Paul Gross) and Dexter Rutecki (Peter Berg). The film opens in Detroit with the twenty-something duo becoming fed up with their careers as blue collar workers. The spontaneously quit their jobs, pile into their dilapidated old van and head out to Aspen, Colorado, playground of the rich and famous, to establish themselves as ski instructors. The pair is dead broke and end up having to convert a caboose train car into a bachelor pad. T.J., the more intelligent and charismatic of the two, is also the better skier and immediately lands a job as an instructor. The slow-witted and uncouth T.J. (he attends upscale cocktail parties clad in a plaid shirt and red baseball cap) is lucky that T.J. coerces his boss to employ him in the children's ski program, where he actually thrives. Life is initially good for the men: they finally have decent salaries and the future looks bright. T.J. catches the eye of many of the local rich women, in particular, gorgeous Bryce Kellogg (Finola Hughes), who is a cross between Joan Collins and Cruella de Vil. Before long, T.J. becomes the latest acquisition in a string of boy toys who are invited to share her opulent lifestyle and endless sex sessions, only to be discarded for the next in line. (For all the emphasis on sex in this movie, the depiction of it is straight out of a TV production with discreet fade-outs before the action gets too hot.)  

In reality, "Aspen Extreme" is a soap opera aimed at men. It unwinds over a running time of nearly two hours, as we watch T.J. fall in love with good girl Robin (Teri Polo), a local radio newscast host, only to have this meaningful relationship jeopardized by being lured back for a one-night stand with Bryce. Meanwhile, Dexter is feeling inconsequential. His crude ways alienate him from women and when he finally attracts a girl, it turns out she is using him to run illegal drug deals. T.J. and Dexter end up feuding and the reason is, well, cherchez la femme. The film presents a spider's web of female sexual manipulation, coercion and impatience. #MeToo wasn't even on the horizon. If you can past that, the movie is reasonably engrossing and well-acted by a talented cast of young people who were anything but known boxoffice attractions. Director Hasburgh excels at the exciting skiing scenes but the script tosses in many sub-plots that give the production an "everything but the kitchen sink" feel. One amusing aspect is seeing how hip young guys behaved in the era just before the introduction of cell phones and internet. Yes, folks, people actually spoke to one another while making eye contact. Ultimately, "Aspen Extreme" was a critical and boxoffice failure, recouping only about half of its modest $14 million production cost. Yet, aside from being a bit long-winded, it provides enough entertainment value to merit being recommended viewing.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks great and the skiing scenes practically jump off the screen. The original trailer is also included.

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Gene Autry from Rovin' Tumbleweeds (1939) (c) Autry Qualified Interest Trust and The Autry Foundation

Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Shout! Factory:

Los Angeles – April 20, 2020 – Back in the saddle again! America’s favorite singing cowboy Gene Autry heads to streaming for the first time ever with the launch of the Gene Autry film and television library on Shout! Factory TV May 1. The streaming service will release its first collection from Gene Autry’s personal archive, with the streaming debut of fully restored feature films South of the Border, Gaucho Serenade, Melody Ranch, The Strawberry Roan and Blue Canadian Rockies.

He was the silver screen’s first singing cowboy and is credited with creating the genre of the musical Western. As the star of 89 feature films and a television series, Autry brings music, comedy and action to each of his roles from the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s. Now available to stream for the first time, Gene Autry’s rollicking big-screen adventures and unforgettable tunes are presented in these Western classics, fully restored and uncut from Autry’s personal film archives.

Shout! Factory TV has worked closely with Gene Autry Entertainment to curate monthly releases of Autry content. Coming June 1 will be Public Cowboy No. 1, In Old Monterey, Rovin’ Tumbleweeds, Ridin’ on a Rainbow, and Sioux City Sue.

The Gene Autry film and TV archive will be available for streaming on demand across Shout! Factory TV platforms, on ShoutFactoryTV.com; Shout! Factory TV’s Roku, Amazon Fire, Apple TV, and Android apps; and on various Shout! Factory TV branded channels including Tubi, Amazon Prime Video Direct, Amazon Channels, and the Roku Channel.

Additionally, on the last Wednesday of every month, Gene Autry films will stream on Shout! Factory TV’s linear channel. The stream can be viewed on ShoutFactoryTV.com; Shout! Factory TV’s Roku, Amazon Fire, Apple TV, and Android apps; and the following digital streaming platforms: Twitch, Redbox, Samsung TV Plus, Comcast Xfinity, XUMO, and STIRR.

One of the most influential performers in American pop culture, Gene Autry is the only entertainer with all five stars on Hollywood's Walk of Fame, one each for Radio, Recording, Motion Pictures, Television and Live Performance. In a career that spanned more than three decades, Autry built a media empire, thanks to his box-office smash musical Westerns, cross-country rodeo tours and a diverse music career that included the million-selling hit Christmas classic ‘Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.’

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

The Evil Of Frankenstein [Collector's Edition] comes to Blu-ray™ on May 19 from Scream Factory. Customers ordering from ShoutFactory.com will receive an exclusive 18" X 24" rolled poster featuring our brand new artwork, available while supplies last. Horror great Peter Cushing stars in this fantastic tale as the monster's creator, Baron von Frankenstein, determined to bring the creature back to life. Long thought destroyed, Dr. Frankenstein's creation is discovered frozen alive and resurrected in his laboratory. Unfortunately, the creature's mind is dormant and, much to the Baron's horror, he finds that only a hypnotist can order the creature to do his unfathomable bidding now. The Evil Of Frankenstein [Collector's Edition] Special Features: NEW 4K scan of the interpositive NEW Audio Commentary with filmmaker/film historian Constantine Nasr NEW The Men Who Made Hammer: Freddie Francis NEW an interview with assistant director William P. Cartlidge NEW an interview with actress Katy Wild TV version of THE EVIL OF FRANKENSTEIN (from the best available 16mm print) The Making of THE EVIL OF FRANKENSTEIN – Narrated by Edward de Souza and featuring interviews with Wayne Kinsey, Caron Gardner, Hugh Harlow, Pauline Harlow, Peter Cushing and Don Mingay A moment with actress Caron Gardner TALES OF FRANKENSTEIN TV Pilot Theatrical Trailer Still Gallery

BY FRED BLOSSER

During the stress of the COVID-19 outbreak, people are hungry for vicarious escape, any escape, from isolation, financial uncertainty, and worries about contagion. Even so, Bob Hope’s lightweight 1958 comedy “Paris Holiday” is likely to appeal mostly to fans in their sixties and older who remember the star as a ubiquitous presence on TV decades ago. Jokes based on references to Sputnik and My Sin perfume will fly past everyone else. Hope produced and starred in the movie (now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber) with an additional “from an idea by . . .” credit. His character, Bob Hunter, a famous American comedian who might as well be named Bob Hope, ventures over to Paris on the 1950s luxury liner, the Ile de France. He has an appointment to meet a celebrated French playwright whose latest work he hopes to secure as his next screenplay. On board the ship, he meets and chases an attractive State Department employee, Ann McCall (Martha Hyer), and is pursued in turn by Zara, a mysterious femme fatale (Anita Ekberg). Also on the liner is a celebrated French comedian, Fernydel (Fernandel), whose introduction to his American counterpart produces an amusing exchange. “Ferny” strokes Hunter’s ski-slope nose and marvels, “Formidable!” Not to be outdone, Bob riffs on his rival’s toothy, hangdog countenance: “Straight from the horse’s mouth!” This and other early scenes suggest that the script will be anchored by an edgy if amiable competition between the two characters. But Hope’s ego collided with Fernandel’s in real life, and so eventually, the French comedian is relegated to a secondary role once the ship docks. From there, the story becomes a standard Bob Hope farcical thriller in the style of “My Favorite Blonde” (1942) and “My Favorite Brunette” (1947). The playwright’s new opus is a drama rather than a comedy as Hunter expected, based on an exposé of wartime counterfeiters who have since moved into “positions of power” in the French government. The conspirators murder the playwright to protect their secrets, and try to do the same to Hunter. When those attempts fail, their associate Zara checks the comic into a mental institution from which Hyer’s and Fernandel’s characters must rescue him.

The script by longtime Hope associate Edmund Beloin, joined by Dean Reisner (now best remembered for his work on “Coogan’s Bluff” and “Dirty Harry”), never makes a lot of sense, serving mostly as a tent pole for Hope’s mile-a-minute wisecracks. Hope’s timing remains marvelous, and even younger viewers may be impressed, but the conceit of Hyer’s younger foreign service officer tolerating and even welcoming the uninvited advances of Hope’s older character sits uneasily with today’s social attitudes. The credits claim that the picture was shot entirely on location in Paris, but if that’s true, they could have saved their money. The interiors are obviously sets on a sound stage, and when Bob Hunter tools around the city in a sporty Citroen, it’s Hope in front of rear-projected scenery. Today’s computerized effects may be equally phony, but at least they look more authentic. The impostures are particularly apparent in the sharp, bright image provided by the Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber, reproducing the film’s Technicolor palette and widescreen Technirama aspect. The only supplements on the disc are a still-shot of a 1958 cigarette ad publicizing Anita Ekberg “as featured” in “Paris Holiday,” and trailers for other KL releases.

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Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon

“OH, WHAT A LOVELY WAR?”

By Raymond Benson

Filmmaker John Boorman was between the ages of six and twelve during World War II, and in 1987 he released a fictional “memoir” of a film based on his childhood recollections of what life was like on the home front in Britain while the conflict raged. By most of the media and promotional materials, Hope and Glory was billed as a “comedy”—in fact, it won the Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture Musical or Comedy (and it was also nominated for the Oscar Best Picture and Director).

Whether it truly is a comedy or not is up for debate. There are indeed humorous moments as we follow the days through the eyes of young Billy Rowan (played with empathy and intelligence by child actor Sebastian Rice-Edwards) as he navigates the bombed-out neighborhood where he and his family live, runs around with the unruly gang of young lads who terrorize the locality by collecting shrapnel, undetonated bombs and bullets, and rebel against schoolmasters and teachers who are attempting to enforce discipline and order in chaotic times. The film also displays some of the horrors—people losing their homes after a blitz, the economic downturn and rationing, the vacancy of a father who has gone off to fight, and the overall pandemonium inflicted on the people.

Nevertheless, Hope and Glory is an uplifting, positive statement that almost resembles the type of propaganda documentaries that Britain produced at the time (e.g. London Can Take It). The film seems to say, “we can get through this, no matter how long it lasts,”—and as this Blu-ray edition is being reviewed at the beginning of April 2020, when the world is under the thumb of a global pandemic, the picture is a welcome message of encouragement.

As an ensemble piece, the movie illustrates what the suburban middle-class home in Britain was like. Clive, the father (David Hayman), pops in whenever he gets a brief furlough, and leaves the household to be run by his wife Grace (Sarah Miles), who does the best she can. The oldest daughter, Dawn (Sammi Davis), is a handful—fifteen, stubborn, and insubordinate, she has eyes for the men, especially a Canadian soldier who manages to get her pregnant. Young Billy has a younger sister as well, and there are aunts around them with husbands who may or may not be around, such as Uncle Mac (Derrick O’Connor), who was apparently once attached to Grace before she married Clive. Grandpa George (Ian Bannen) is cantankerous and bitter, but he is well off enough to host the family at his home in the country when the Rowans’ house burns to the ground.

In many ways, Hope and Glory resembles Woody Allen’s Radio Days, which was released the same year. Both pictures highlight two perspectives on opposite sides of the Atlantic, although the latter is decidedly played for laughs and the former delivers moments of solemnity.

Olive Films’ new high definition restoration looks absolutely beautiful—crystal clear, sharp, and colorful. There are optional English subtitles for the hearing impaired, but otherwise no supplements.

Hope and Glory may not be a cure for what ails us now, but it is certainly a feel-good dose of medicine in these troubled times. Highly recommended.

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“A VERY PRECIOUS NATALIE”

By Raymond Benson

The familiar old standard, “A Very Precious Love” (by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster) has been covered by such crooners as the Ames Brothers, Doris Day, Jack Jones, and others, but it was Gene Kelly who introduced it in the 1958 film adaptation of Herman Wouk’s 1955 novel, Marjorie Morningstar, which was directed by Irving Rapper. The song, played incessantly in instrumental form throughout the picture (and sung twice by Kelly), certainly sticks with you—and it received an Academy Award nomination for Best Song that year.

It was the only nomination the film received, however. Despite the good intentions of the filmmakers, the solid performances by Kelly and protagonist Marjorie (played by the luminescent Natalie Wood), and an excellent supporting cast that includes Ed Wynn, Claire Trevor, Carolyn Jones, Everett Sloan, Martin Milner, Martin Balsam, Jesse White, and George Tobias, the picture doesn’t quite reach the heights to which it aspires. This is probably due to a) running a little long, and b) keeping one foot firmly in the old Production Code while itching to break out and be a little more frank in its exploration of sexual mores. Still, it’s an enjoyable, worthwhile romantic drama with some extra added value in musical and dance numbers that are ingredients of the storyline.

Of particular note is that this is a Hollywood movie in the 1950s that portrays Jewish middle-class family life, complete with scenes of religious rituals and holidays (a bar mitzvah in a synagogue, a seder meal at Passover). Has there been such a film prior to it besides, perhaps, The Jazz Singer in 1927? This reviewer cannot think of any. Interestingly, Wouk’s novel takes place in the 1930s—the motion picture brings the setting up to the late 50s. This was a good call, for it allows the filmmakers to explore the sexual yearnings of young Marjorie and her several male admirers in an era when teen rebellion was at a boiling point. Marjorie, though, is a “good Jewish girl,” who doesn’t “give out free samples” while looking for the right man to marry (as her friend Marsha apparently does).

This was considered Natalie Wood’s first adult role, although the character begins the story at age eighteen and ends it in her early twenties. She is quite effective as the innocent and precious young woman who refuses to abide by her parents’ traditions and wishes for her to find a man with a respectable income (a doctor, lawyer). Instead, she pursues an older bohemian (played by Kelly) in the arts because she wants to be an actress (oh, the horror!). Along the way, she fends off other suitors, such as a successful playwright (Milner), and a doctor (Balsam). Kelly’s Noel Airman, though, is a bit of a cad, non-religious, and destined to live a life on the fringe. Is it a doomed love affair? Will Marjorie eventually “grow up” and realize that this is not the path for her? Ultimately, these themes of maturity, customs, destiny, and choices are what Marjorie Morningstar is all about.

Kelly is also very good in his role, for once playing a sometimes-unlikeable character. Ed Wynn has some scene-stealing comic moments, and Carolyn Jones, as Marsha, is wonderfully liberal and spunky in her efforts to steer Marjorie to take a walk on the wild side for a change.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray restoration is quite good, despite the two or three brief flashes of color unsaturation. Otherwise, this is a decent transfer that captures that late fifties look of “WarnerColor” film stock. There are English subtitles for the hearing impaired, but, alas, no other supplements except for theatrical trailers for this and other Kino Lorber titles.

Marjorie Morningstar is a good date movie, especially for the Boomer crowd (and older) that can recall these simpler times. There’s also a good chance you won’t be able to get that song out of your head after a viewing.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

Long before the coronavirus and social distancing became a reality, before TV became mainly a source of information about the current pandemic, there used to be a thing called the “made-for-TV” movie. They’re pretty much an artifact of the past now, new ones showing up mainly on the Lifetime and Hallmark cable channels. But beginning in the 1960s up to the late 90s, there were tons of made-for-TV movies churned out on all the networks. Some of the more famous ones, like “The Burning Bed” with Farrah Fawcett, and “The Day After” with Jason Robards, achieved a level of quality that earned them Golden Globes and Emmys. But for the most part the TV movie was known mainly for low budgets, hackneyed direction, mediocre acting and half-baked scripts.

While the Aaron Spelling-produced “Wild Women” (1970), starring Hugh O'Brian and five femme fatales, was not Emmy winning material, it wasn’t the worst TV movie ever made either. A comedy western directed by Don Taylor, “Wild Women” tells the tale of five female prisoners in a Union army stockade given the chance to earn their freedom by volunteering for a dangerous mission. If that sounds like a femme version of “The Dirty Dozen,” you’d be right. Except this is a low budget movie, so we get only five volunteers instead of a dozen.

We get our first glimpse of the ladies inside the stockade shouting and screaming at two of their number scratching and clawing each other in a raucous catfight. Riding in from the desert, is Army scout Killian (Hugh O’Brian). Killian (no first name) is given orders by Col. Donahue (Robert Simon), to lead an “expedition” down to the Mexican border for the purpose of finding and mapping a shorter trail than the one that currently takes three weeks. The U.S. is about to annex Texas from Mexico and war with our southern neighbor is imminent. The “expedition” will be an undercover operation with five soldiers posing as harmless settlers and five female prisoners posing as their wives. Cannon and rifles will be hidden inside the covered wagons they’ll be riding in.

If that idea doesn’t sound crazy enough, the teleplay by Richard Carr and Lou Morheim, based on a novel by Vincent Fotre, gives us a cast of characters that is, for lack of a better word ,incongruous at best. The women who are selected for the mission include the blonde and beautiful Jean Marshek (Anne Francis), the sexy southern belle Nancy Belacourt (Sherry Jackson), the alluring half-Apache Mit-O-Ne (Cynthia Hull), the grey haired, lead-slinging card dealer Lotte Clampett (Marie Windsor) and former madam Maude Webber (Marilyn Maxwell). The soldiers who will go on the expedition are not exactly what you would expect either. Instead of trained cavalrymen or expert sharpshooters, the men are all topographical engineers who wouldn’t know a Winchester from a Howitzer. You have to admit, these aren’t the kinds of characters who typically populate a movie like this, and that’s one of the things I liked about it.

Of course, there’s got to be a love interest somewhere in the story, and naturally, Jean and Killian have a past. She was a card dealer in a casino a few years ago who ripped him off to the tune of $80 but only after she had fallen in love with him. However, she discovered he was about to skip out on her. Naturally, that all turns out to be a misunderstanding.

The expedition starts out for their immediate destination, a deserted town where four Texas Rangers will be waiting for them to escort them the rest of the way. Along the journey, the geeky soldiers and the wild women begin to grow on each other. After a night of drinking and dancing, one of the soldiers nearly empties the expedition’s water barrel. On a search for more water, aided by the half-apache Mit-O-Ne, they find a water hole but a band of Mescaleros shows up and forbids them to drink from it. “Only Apache, may drink,” Chief Cadete (Michael Keep) tells them.

There’s only one way to settle this. Killian takes his shirt off and challenges him to a fight. You know how Hugh O’Brian liked to show off that hairy chest. The chief wants to fight in the water with knives. Killian in a kind of chickenshit move suggests just using fists. Astonishingly, Cadete agrees. What kind of a Mescalero is he, anyway? I guess the writers were out on a coffee break when they shot that scene.

After the waterhole scene they make it to the deserted town only to find out the Texas Rangers who were supposed to meet them are all dead, killed by Mexican soldiers, some of whom the expedition had run into earlier. Killian knows the Mexicans will descend on them before long, so they have to make a stand. In an even stranger twist, the wild women take the men aside and teach them how to shoot the rifles and canon they brought with them. These gals have been around.

Kino Lorber did a nice job transferring “The Wild Women” to a 1920x1080p Blu-Ray in standard 1.33:1 aspect ratio. Image and color are good. The soundtrack is mono and the music score by Fred Steiner, supervised by George Duning, is well recorded. This is one of those flicks were the entire score is basically multiple versions of the same tune played at different tempos and moods. In this case the theme is based on the old folk song, “Sweet Betsy from Pike.” It grows on you.

Included as an extra is an interesting and informative audio Commentary by film historian Lee Gambin, who notes the similarities between “Wild Women” and “The Guns of Fort Petticoat.” However, he mistakenly identifies Gene Autry as the star of “Petticoat,” when in actual fact it was Audie Murphy. Nobody’s perfect. The disc also includes trailers for a number of Kino Lorber Blu-rays.

Since you’re now a prisoner quarantined in your own home, you could do worse than turn Wolf Blitzer off for 74 minutes and give this Kino-Lorber Blu-Ray a spin.

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John M. Whalen is the author of "Tragon of Ramura". Click here to order from Amazon.

REVIEW: “THE FINGER POINTS” (1931), STARRING RICHARD BARTHELMESS, FAY WRAY, AND CLARK GABLE; WARNER ARCHIVE COLLECTION DVD by Fred Blosser