Kino
Lorber has been releasing the W. C. Fields catalog in high definition, upgraded
from previous releases on DVD, and two more have come to the fore—You’re
Telling Me! and Man on the Flying Trapeze, two titles that don’t
immediately come to mind when one thinks of top tier, classic Fields pictures,
but never fear—they’re hilarious and worth a look.
You’re
Telling Me!
preceded The Old Fashioned Way and the brilliant It’s a Gift (both
previously reviewed here at Cinema Retro), all three of which appeared
in 1934, while Fields (real name—William Claude Dukenfield) still had a working
contract with Paramount Pictures. Man on the Flying Trapeze was released
in 1935, a return to a “Fields comedy” after the actor took a sidetrack sojourn,
courtesy of Paramount, into more high-brow fare (David Copperfield, an
Oscar Best Picture nominee,and Mississippi, a musical starring
Bing Crosby).
In
Telling Me, Fields is Sam Bisbee, an optometrist and amateur inventor (one
of his inventions is a “nose-holder-upper,” which pulls one’s nose up to open
the nasal passages when in bed). As usual, he’s married to a shrew of a wife (Louise
Carter), who is embarrassed by the family’s social status of living “on the
wrong side of the tracks.” Their daughter, Pauline (Joan Marsh), is sweet on Bob
Murchison (Larry “Buster” Crabbe), who comes from a wealthy, upper class
family. Bob’s snobby mother (Kathleen Howard) will not allow her son to marry
Pauline, mainly because of her contempt for “low life” Sam. However, Sam by
chance meets Princess Lescaboura (Adrienne Ames) on a train. The princess is a
visiting dignitary, and she is impressed by Sam’s woeful story of his troubles.
Sam is under the mistaken impression that the princess (“Call me Marie”) was
about to commit suicide when he meets her, and she plays along to earn his
friendship. Marie can see there’s a good man there, so she takes it upon
herself to visit his town and make things right between him and his family and
the community.Click here to order from Amazon.
Man
on the Flying Trapeze has no flying trapezes, but the title possibly suggests
the precarious tightrope act that is the life of Ambrose Wolfinger (Fields).
He, too, is married to a shrew (Kathleen Howard again, something of the
“Margaret Dumont” of W. C. Fields films). Fields has a daughter, Hope (Mary
Brian), from a previous marriage, but the second Mrs. Wolfinger’s uptight
mother (Vera Lewis) and lazy brother (Grady Sutton) live with them, too. No one
in the household can stand Ambrose—in fact, they make his life hell—except for Hope,
who adores him. Ambrose loses his job as a “memory expert” because he takes a
day off to attend a wrestling match, and it’s one of many things that goes
wrong in Ambrose’s world. Luckily, Hope is on hand to steer luck his way.
There
are some classic comedic bits in both films. Telling Me has a wonderful
golfing sequence toward the end, in which Fields shares the screen with
longtime foil Tammany Young (here as a caddy). Flying Trapeze is packed
with funny bits. The opening involves two burglars (one being Tammany Young,
again, plus a young Walter Brennan!) who get drunk in Fields’ cellar and start
singing. Later, the chase of a runaway tire after getting a flat takes Fields
onto the railroad tracks provides some laughs, along with the wrestling
sequence (featuring a young Tor Johnson as a heavily bearded “Russian”
wrestler).
Throughout
it all in both films, W. C. Fields maintains a command of the material. The
camera loves him, and he obviously loves the camera. This is a period when
Fields’ popularity was at its highest, with excellent examples of his impeccable
comic timing, slow burns, drunken confusion, and outrageous dialogue.
Both
Kino Lorber disks, sold separately, are 2K masters that are indeed an improvement
over previous DVD releases. Oddly, both Blu-ray editions feature the same bonus
supplement—an episode of the old “Wayne and Shuster” TV show (Johnny Wayne and
Frank Shuster, comics of the 40s and beyond, who had some success on television
in the 50s and early 60s). The segment focuses on the life of Fields. This same
supplement also appeared on the Never Give a Sucker an Even Break Blu-ray
disk from the same label. One might have thought that Kino could have found
some different supplements to spread around the various Fields titles on
release, but that is not the case. Theatrical trailers for both films, and
other Kino products, fill out the packages.
You’re
Telling Me! and
Man on the Flying Trapeze are both worthwhile additions to your W. C.
Fields library. They are snapshots of a comic genius in his prime. Click here to order from Amazon.
British
author Edgar Wallace, aside from the London pub bearing his name, is now
largely forgotten in his home country, and is perhaps best remembered, if at
all, for his contribution to RKO’s King Kong (1933), although he sadly
died before the film was completed. During his immensely prolific career as a
journalist, author, poet, playwright, historian, film producer and director,
screenwriter and chairman of the British Lion Film Corporation, he published
around two hundred novels, almost a thousand short stories and twenty stage
plays. It was said that at one point around a quarter of all books being read
in the UK were written by Wallace. He was best known for his crime novels,
particularly ‘The Four Just Men’ series and the amateur detective J.G. Reeder,
but he also created the colonial adventurer ‘Sanders of the River’ and wrote
science fiction and comedy stories. His non-fiction often focused on his
experiences in South Africa during the Boer War or on his passion for horse
racing (the latter of which kept him mostly in debt and helped fuel his need to
keep writing).
Many
of his stories and plays were adapted by Hollywood and British filmmakers
during the 1930s and 1940s, and in the 1960s the tiny Merton Park Studios
produced a whopping forty-seven second-feature films under the title The
Edgar Wallace Mysteries. These films were so successful that The Shadows
scored a chart hit with their cover of the theme music ‘Man of Mystery’.
And
yet Edgar Wallace’s work has now mostly fallen out of print in the UK. Perhaps
it is because, as he himself once admitted, “I do not write good books, I write
bestsellers.” In Germany, however, it was a different story; paperback publisher
Goldmanns issued dozens of Wallace novels (and those of his son Bryan Edgar
Wallace) in the 1940s and 1950s under the cheap imprint Taschen-Krimi (krimi
meaning crime), and these novels were very popular in a post-war country still
coming to terms with the relationship it now had with the UK, it’s former enemy
in two world wars. Wallace’s stories, often set in a fog-bound London, were a
fantasy world of terror and crime where the good guys always prevailed.
In
1959 Danish film company Rialto tried their hand at an adaptation and produced The
Mask of the Frog, shot in German language but set in London, and made with
a comedic tone which was often found in the original novels. It was such a huge
success that it launched a series which ran for over a decade and resulted in
thirty-two films, mostly shot in Hamburg or Berlin (with second unit
photography in London) and helped launch the careers of such film stars as
Klaus Kinski, Karin Dor and Joachim Fuchsberger, as well as attracting stars
such as Christopher Lee – he spoke perfect German – who appeared in The
Devil’s Daffodil and Secret of the Red Orchid. Each film would begin
with the message “Hallo, hier spricht Edgar Wallace.” Other popular films in
the series, many of which were dubbed into English and distributed in the UK
and the USA, included The Dead Eyes of London, The Ringer and The
Hunchback of Soho. Towards the end of the cycle, Rialto joined forces with
Italian filmmakers to make Double Face, What Have You Done to
Solange? and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, generally thought of as
giallo films but released in Germany as part of the Krimi series.
Although
Rialto’s Krimi production ended in the early 1970s, the films lived on through
regular television screenings, and thus the popularity of Edgar Wallace has endured,
and German translations of his novels have remained in print ever since. And
whilst several German volumes have also been published dedicated to this series
of films, until now the main English-language writing on the Krimi phenomenon was
in the magazine Video Watchdog back in the 1990s. Nicholas G. Schlegel’s
new book German Popular Cinema and the Rialto Krimi Phenomenon: Dark Eyes of
London is therefore a very welcome and much- needed addition for anyone
interested in exploring these films in more detail. With an insightful analysis
of each of the films and their reception, alongside a history of the post-war
German film industry and where these films sit within that context, reading
this book will have you eagerly seeking out copies of all of them. Fortunately,
a great deal of the Rialto Krimis are now available on DVD and Blu-ray with
English subtitles, and occasionally with the original English dubs (sometimes
the films were shot in both languages, with different actors), although some
are still only available in German. Perhaps the films are considered to only be
of commercial interest to German-speaking audiences. It can be hoped that the
renewed interest this book will spark amongst English-speaking film fans will
encourage the rights holders to eventually make all these films available.
Although
the idea of 1960s German film adaptations of Edgar Wallace may not be
everyone’s cup of tea (something which is drunk with great regularity in the
films themselves), I would strongly encourage you to at least seek one out.
They are great fun, balancing humour with tales of outlandish criminal
masterminds (the tone often recalls episodes of The Avengers), and the
novelty of seeing people in English police uniforms talking in German about
Scotland Yard adds an additional element of charm to the whole thing. This new
book from Schlegel is an essential read, taking in the films, the industry,
their enduring legacy, and global influence. The hardback is admittedly
something of an eye-watering price, but well worth it for the serious Krimi
fan. For the curious, perhaps wait patiently for the paperback.
The
late Peter Bogdanovich called it “the first great detective movie.” That
statement is possibly arguable, but there is no question that the 1941 version
of The Maltese Falcon was the beginning of something new. Film
historians will forever debate what the first film noir might have been,
but Falcon is one of the contenders. The film presented a cynical, hard
boiled detective in Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart), utilized German expressionism
in its cinematography and design (low camera angles, high contrasting black and
white photography, shadows, and angular architecture), and a pessimistic tone. Falcon
also truly launched Bogart into the A-list. Prior to this (and, some say, High
Sierra, released the same year), Bogart usually played villains in crime
pictures, third billed or ever further down the line.
The
Maltese Falcon is
of course based on Dashiell Hammett’s 1930 novel, originally serialized in 1929.
Warner Brothers immediately bought the film rights, and an initial adaptation
was made and released in 1931 (also called The Maltese Falcon). This
version starred Ricardo Cortez as Spade and Bebe Daniels as Ruth Wonderly. The
picture definitely can be termed “pre-Code,” as it is rather risqué and isn’t a
very faithful adaptation of the novel. Warners remade the material five years
later as Satan Met a Lady, starring Warren William as “Ted Shane” and
none other than Bette Davis as “Valerie Purvis.” This version is played mostly
for laughs and is even less faithful than the first.
Enter
John Huston, who had been working in Hollywood in the late 1930s as a respected
screenwriter. He wrote the script for High Sierra (1941, directed by
Raoul Walsh), which starred Bogart. The two men became friends. Huston made it
known that he wanted to write and direct. Legend has it that Orson Welles
suggested that Huston try a faithful adaptation of The Maltese Falcon,
since the material was crying out to be done properly. Huston apparently wrote
the script and left it on Jack Warner’s desk. Then, on condition that no
“stars” were cast and the budget remain ridiculously low, Huston got the job to
make the film. At the time, Bogart was not a star. Co-star Mary Astor had been
a big star in the silent era and early 30s, but some personal scandals had
stymied her career by the 40s—so casting her was not expensive. The two other
(now) big names in the movie, Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet, were also
considered low risks. Lorre had been making cheap horror films and mysteries,
Greenstreet, a stage actor, had never made a movie. The picture also brought us
Elisha Cook, Jr., Gladys George, and Lee Patrick.
The
story is typically complex with many twists and turns, and it is always
surprising. It is about one of cinema’s greatest “MacGuffins,” a statue of a
falcon that is allegedly made out of gold and covered in rare jewels—but to disguise
it, someone covered it in black enamel. It seems everyone in the tale wants the
thing, except for private investigator Sam Spade (Bogart). He gets involved in
the hunt for the trophy when his partner, Miles Archer (Jerome Cowan) is
murdered at a rendezvous set up by a new client, “Ruth Wonderly” (Astor). It
turns out Wonderly’s real name is Brigid O’Shaughnessy (maybe), and she’s in
league with some sinister characters to buy—or steal—the statue. The “fat man,”
Kasper Gutman (Greenstreet) is the top villain here, and his sidekick, Joel
Cairo (Lorre), provides icky support. All Spade really wants to do is find out
who killed his partner and deliver that person to the police, but in doing so
must become embroiled in the intrigue and puzzles surrounding the coveted
Maltese Falcon.
Besides
the acting and direction, Huston’s script contains memorable lines of dialogue.
“When I slap you, you’ll take it and like it.” “Don’t be too sure I’m as
crooked as I’m supposed to be.” And of course, “The stuff that dreams are made
of.” The film received three Academy Award nominations—Best Picture, Best
Adapted Screenplay, and Best Supporting Actor (Greenstreet), but failed to win
any of them.
The
Warner Home Video Blu-ray edition of The Maltese Falcon was released over
ten years ago, but its timeless appeal makes it appropriate to review. It is a
marked improvement over the 2000 DVD release, which was bare bones. A further
2006 3-disk DVD release contained all of the extras ported over to this Blu-ray
edition. The high definition transfer looks great and is without blemishes. The
movie comes with an audio commentary (by Bogart biographer Eric Lax).
Supplements
abound: There’s an interesting, nearly half-hour featurette on the history of
the film; a collection of Bogart trailers narrated by the late Robert Osborne
of TCM; a blooper reel of Warners pictures; makeup tests; a 1941 newsreel; an
Oscar-nominated short (“The Gay Parisian”); two of the greatest Looney Tunes
cartoons (Bugs Bunny in “Hiawatha’s Rabbit Hunt” and Porky Pig in “Meet John
Doughboy”); trailers for Falcon and other Warners films of the era; and three
audio-only radio adaptations, two of which feature the movie’s original stars
and one with Edward G. Robinson). The only thing missing from the Blu-ray
edition is the inclusion of the previous two Falcon feature adaptations,
which were included in the 3-disk DVD set.
The
Maltese Falcon is
fabulous entertainment, a spectacular example of film noir, a showcase
for Humphrey Bogart’s star power, and one of the great Hollywood films of the
1940s. Highly recommended.
This
is a little-known gem of a film from producer Louis de Rochemont, the man best
known for introducing The March of Time documentary newsreels to cinemas
that ran from the 1930s until the early 1950s. He also produced several
mainstream pictures, and one of these from 1951, The Whistle at Eaton Falls,
is an underdog-battles-severe-odds tale of the highest caliber.
Directed
by Robert Siodmak and starring Lloyd Bridges, Whistle might be described
as Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, only with unions. Yes, this is a union
drama along the lines of On the Waterfront or, much later, Norma Rae.
In
a tight 96 minutes, Siodmak brings us a riveting story—the kind that gets an
audience riled up against the injustices thrown at a protagonist. The suspense
builds to a breaking point as we wonder how it’s all going to play out.
The
writing credits are a bit complicated. J. Sterling Livingston wrote the
original story, but then a story treatment was developed by Lawrence Dugan and
Laurence Heath. This was next turned into a screenplay by Lemist Esler and
Virginia Shaler (de Rochemont’s wife), with additional dialogue by Leo Rosten!
Whatever it took, the movie is well-written and engaging.
Supporting
Lloyd Bridges in the cast is a host of young, future character actors such as Murray
Hamilton, Ernest Borgnine, Arthur O’Connell, James Westerfield, Parker
Fennelly, and Anne Francis. Second billed, though, is Dorothy Gish (actually in
a small role). Carleton Carpenter, a crooner/actor of the period, has a showy
role as a younger union member who sings a number with Francis (“Ev’ry Other
Day”). Each cast member displays a down-home small town persona that works very
well with the location filming in New Hampshire, where the story takes place.
In
the hamlet of Eaton Falls, a whistle signals the beginning and end of the work
day. But there’s trouble. A shoe factory had to close down, laying off its
workers. Now, the Doubleday Plastic Factory is losing money and must cut costs
to stay in business. Brad Adams (Bridges) is the head of the union, and he is
determined to make sure no one gets laid off; and yet, Mr. Doubleday may be
forced to cut some workers as more modern machinery is purchased to pave the
way for the future. When Doubleday dies in an accident, his wife and now-owner
of the plant (Gish), appoints Brad the new president. This doesn’t sit well
with some of the crankier union members, like Al Webster (Hamilton, in one of
his typical “hothead” roles). To make things worse, the slimy production
manager, Hawkins (Russell Hardie) and his cohort, the company’s treasurer (Helen
Shields), plot to ruin Brad and convince Mrs. Doubleday to sell the company.
This would, of course, be a disaster for the town. Brad soon finds himself at
odds with his loyalties to the union and his responsibility as “management.”
Eventually, the plant must temporarily close while Brad and his few allies
scramble to find solutions to keep the company running while the malcontents
threaten upheaval and violence.
This
is potent stuff and while it doesn’t have the depth and grit that On the
Waterfront brought to the subject three years later, Whistle is
still a serious and tension-inducing winner. The cast is marvelous and the
black and white cinematography by Joseph C. Brun is striking.
Flicker
Alley/Flicker Fusion presents an impressive product. Great care was made to
restore the little-seen film to a 2K master, undertaken by the de Rochemont
estate and spearheaded by Tom H. March and David Strohmaier, the same team that
brought us the Flicker releases of the Cinerama and Cinemiracle films. There is
an audio commentary by author and film historian Alan K. Rode.
Supplements
include a short remembrance of de Rochemont from his grandson, L. Pierre de
Rochemont; a featurette on the restoration of the picture; an isolated score
track (music by Louis Applebaum); archival single recordings of Carleton
Carpenter’s “Ev’ry Other Day” and (presumably) the B-side, “It’s a Million to
One You’re in Love,” and the theatrical trailer. A nice insert contains an essay
excerpt from Richard Koszarski’s Keep ‘em in the East—Kazan, Kubrick and the
Post-War New York Film Renaissance.
The
Whistle at Eaton Falls is a surprise treasure from Flicker. For fans of
Hollywood post-war social problem dramas, and of the spectacular cast.
Recommended.
There
are a handful of Hollywood movies out there that successfully combined comedy
with the horror genre. Surprisingly, truly good ones are few and far between. Abbott
and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) is perhaps the quintessential example
of the genre mashup. It provided genuine thrills and some frights mixed in with
hilarious comedic bits. A more recent one that comes to mind is of course the
1984 megahit, Ghostbusters. There is no question that this Bill Murray
vehicle owes a great deal to the 1940 romp, The Ghost Breakers,
considered one of Bob Hope’s most beloved early pictures.
Based
on the 1909 stage play, The Ghost Breaker, by Paul Dickey and Charles W.
Goddard, the 1940 movie is actually a remake of previous adaptations. Both
Cecil B. DeMille and Alfred E. Green made silent films of the play in 1914 and
1922, respectively, and both of these versions are considered lost. In turn,
the 1940 The Ghost Breakers was remade by the same director, George
Marshall, as Scared Stiff (1953), which starred Dean Martin and Jerry
Lewis, and it is arguable that Marshall also helmed a very similar picture in
1945 entitled Murder, He Says, which starred Fred MacMurray.
After
the success of The Cat and the Canary (1939), yet another good example
of a Hollywood horror-comedy that starred Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard, the pair
was brought back a year later for The Ghost Breakers. Also starring
Richard Carlson, Paul Lukas, a young Anthony Quinn, and African-American comic
actor Willie Best, The Ghost Breakers was a popular hit that solidified
Hope’s place as one of the coming decade’s great talents.
Mary
Carter (Goddard) has inherited a spooky old mansion on an island off of Cuba,
and she plans to sail from New York to the island to inspect the place. Other
sinister forces—a foreigner named Parada (Lukas), the twin Mederos brothers
(Quinn, in both roles), and others not named here for the sake of spoilers,
also want the mansion because of a secret hidden within. Apparently it is also full
of ghosts, or so the legends say. During a classic situational and comedic
mix-up of mistaken identities, radio star Larry Lawrence (Hope) finds himself
trapped in Mary’s steamer trunk that has been loaded onto the ship to Cuba. Larry’s
loyal valet and friend, Alex (Best) stowaways to keep track of his boss. Once
on the island, Larry assumes the role of a “ghost buster,” since he’s obviously
fallen for Mary and wants to protect her from the bad guys. Throw in a handsome
historian, Geoff (Carlson), and the cinematic stew has enough complications and
plot twists to keep one entertained for the film’s brief 83 minutes.
Hope
is terrific, and one can easily see the development of his coward-with-bravado character
that he adapted for himself in pretty much all screen appearances, including
the “Road” pictures with Bing Crosby. Goddard is also winning, a perfect comic
and gorgeous foil for the tale. While the rest of the cast is admirable, one
must single out the great Willie Best, an actor who unfortunately was misused
by Hollywood—very typical in those days—to display a stereotype of the comic
black man with bulging eyes and slow dialogue delivery. (“Is you in there,
zombie?” he asks, knocking on a door.) That said, it is apparent that Best is brilliant
in comic timing, handling the demeaning characterization with utmost
professionalism. If The Ghost Breakers has a flaw, it is this. In
today’s climate, Best’s Alex is wince-inducing, but one can still appreciate
the man’s talent and competence.
Director
Marshall keeps the picture moving at a brisk pace, and the creepy aspects—while
certainly not scary today—are effective enough. Noble Johnson’s zombie is an
interesting take on that relatively rare creature (for the time), three years
prior to the Val Lewton masterpiece, I Walked with a Zombie.
Kino
Lorber’s new 2K master looks quite good in high definition, despite the age of
the material. There is an audio commentary by author and film historian Lee
Gambin that fills in listeners on all the trivia behind the movie. The only
supplement is a “Trailers from Hell” piece on the title by Larry Karaszewski,
and the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino releases.
The
Ghost Breakers is
for fans of Bob Hope, Paulette Goddard, Hollywood horror-comedy, and those
distinctive pre-war pictures that provided solid enjoyment in less than ninety
minutes.
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES
In honor of the esteemed actor Nehemiah Persoff, who recently passed away at age 102, we are running this interview originally conducted with Mr. Persoff in 2010 by the late writer Herb Shadrak.
Nehemiah Persoff: From Jerusalem to Hollywood and Beyond
By Herb Shadrak
Born in Jerusalem in 1919, Nehemiah Persoff went on to
become one of the busiest character actors in Hollywood. His face is familiar
to millions of boomers across North America from his numerous guest appearances
on just about every TV series that aired from the 1950s through the 1990s.
Persoff’s name may have been unfamiliar to many of these TV viewers, but his
face was instantly recognizable. Filmspot.com describes Persoff as a short, dark and stocky-framed actor who specialized in playing ethnic-type
villains, although he frequently essayed sympathetic roles as well. (Witness
his heartbreaking moments with Maria Schell in Voyage of the Damned.) Yet he excelled as gangland figures like
Johnny Torrio, mentor to Al Capone in
the 1959 biopic, or mobster Jake Greasy Thumbs Guzik, a recurring role on The Untouchables.
Persoff's childhood was poverty-stricken, but there was constant
singing, dancing and music in his home. He was a very creative and imaginative
youngster, who always visited the circus when it came to the Holy City. "There
was a large field in Jerusalem where the circus used to set up", Persoff
recalls. "It was a very small one-ring circus, but I loved it. Outside the circus
was an Arab with a box on a stand with peepholes in it, and he had a small
monkey on a chain with a hat. This was enough to make me stand there for hours
watching. One day, the Arab let me look through the peepholes. There I saw a
funny man with a derby and cane. He had a funny walk. It was Charlie Chaplin!
Little did I know that 20 years later I would meet that man face-to-face!"
Persoff found himself drawn to the cinema at an early age. "Two outdoor movie houses were opened on Zion Square: one was called Eden", he said. "It
had a circle of bulbs that would light up one after the other. I used to walk
down there barefoot and watch the cinema from a post on the street. From that
height I could see the top of the screen for free. I think the other outdoor
movie house was called Aviv. For its grand opening they showed Ben-Hur
with Ramon Novarro. There were pennants hung all over! I guess that was our
version of a Hollywood opening.I find that at age 88 my mind goes back to my early
childhood more and more. Jerusalem in the late twenties was a place like no
other. I cannot imagine a 10-year-old more attached to his birthplace than I
was. I was keenly aware of the love that people had for each other, the feeling
that we were all tied to the same cause. The pioneers came with nothing but
enthusiasm and a love for life and our native land. Their attitude was "to hell
with worldly goods, that's not what's important in our lives."
And yet Persoff's father, a silversmith and painter, felt he had no career
prospects in Palestine. So the young Persoff emigrated with his family to the
United States in 1929, just in time for the Stock Market Crash and the Great
Depression. Persoff spent several years working as an electrician on the New
York subway system, gradually taking an interest in acting in the 1940's.
"When I started acting, I was working in the subway and
there was a rule that subway workers were not allowed to have any other job"
Persoff remembers. "So on the program of the play, I used the name Nick Perry.
My reviews were great but no one knew it was me, so I got none of the glory.
After that I always used ˜Nehemiah Persoff".
After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II, Persoff started
seriously pursuing an acting career in the New York theatre. In 1947, Persoffs
big break came along, one that would lead to steady work in films and
television for the next 52 years.
"My friend (actor) Lou Gilbert told me that if I wanted to
audition for the Actors Studio, he would arrange it. I jumped at the chance.
Elia Kazan was one of the busiest directors around, and to study with him and
be in his pool of actors was every actor's dream. I was in summer stock playing
the lead role in George Bernard Shaw's The Devil's Disciple. I knew that
Kazan was with the Group Theatre along with writer Clifford Odets. I thought of
doing something from an Odets play but then reasoned that perhaps a more
classic approach might work better for me, so I did a monologue from Shaw. Two
weeks later, I received an invitation to come to the first meeting of the
Actors Studio. I took my seat on a bench and slowly looked around. There were
John Garfield, Marlon Brando, Karl Malden, Montgomery Clift, Kim Hunter and
Maureen Stapleton, among others. Kazan began to speak and told us his aim was
to create a group of actors who work as he does, who speak his language, and
that the people assembled in this room were the cream of the talent available.
This was heady stuff for a nearly starving young actor. I studied with Lee
Strasberg. He was brilliant and helped me find myself as an actor… I owe him
much. Among other scenes, I did a Noel Coward piece with Kim Stanley"
After the Actors Studio, Persoff never looked back. His film credits include Kazan's On the
Waterfront, The Harder They Fall (Humphrey
Bogart's last film), Alfred Hitchcock's The
Wrong Man, Never Steal Anything Small
(with James Cagney), Rene Clement's This
Angry Age (shot in Thailand), Green
Mansions (with Audrey Hepburn and Anthony Perkins), The Hook (with
Kirk Douglas), A Global Affair (with
Bob Hope), Ray Danton's frightfest Psychic
Killer, Barbra Streisand's Yentl and
Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of
Christ.
Persoff also guest starred on about 400 TV shows, including The Twilight
Zone (playing a Nazi U-Boat captain in the classic episode "Judgment
Night"!), Route 66, Ben Casey, Wagon
Train, Rawhide, Mr. Novak, Burke's Law, Honey West, Dan August, The High
Chapparal, The Big Valley, The Legend of Jesse James, The Wild Wild West, Gilligan's
Island, Hawaii Five-O, Tarzan, It Takes a Thief, Land of the Giants
and The Time Tunnel.
In the mid-1980s, Persoff began to pursue painting. Now retired from
acting, he devotes full time to this avocation he has always loved.
Cinema Retro spoke to
Persoff from his home in Cambria, California. (Continue to next page for interview)
The
major question that I have about Douglas Heyes’s Kitten with a Whip,
which opened in New York on Wednesday, November 4, 1964 on a double bill with Lance
Comfort’s Sing and Swing (1963) with David Hemmings at some theaters, is
this: where is the titular whip? We have the kitten, as embodied by the overly
beautiful Ann-Margret as “bad girl” Jody Dvorak, but there is no whip to be
found. Perhaps the “whip” is her personality? There certainly is an argument to
be made for that. Jody has just made a break from a juvenile detention center
but not before seriously wounding the head of the place who becomes
hospitalized. Outwitting the police, she breaks into the semi-upscale home of David
Stratton (John Forsyth), a stuffy, by-the-book political candidate hopeful twenty-three
years her senior whose wife and daughter are conveniently away in a scenario
determined to make him look very creepy. David discovers Jody asleep in his
daughter’s bedroom and many questions ensue along with his disdain for her
presence. He knows full well that people will talk should they find out he is
harboring a fugitive dripping with sex appeal. Desperate to get rid of Jody, he
appears to be uneasy about his own unchecked desire for her which she readily
picks up on. A series of embarrassing situations that could reveal Jody’s
presence in David’s house to his friends and family bring out David’s true
nature, especially when Jody’s three friends (a 1960’s “tough girl” and
cinema’s two cleanest male “goons”) force their way in to crash his homelife in
a chain of events that lead them all to Mexico and a tragic ending.
Ann-Margret
had already made a name for herself appearing in Frank Capra’s Pocket Full
of Miracles (1961), José Ferrer’s State Fair (1962), and George
Sidney’s Bye Bye Birdie (1963) and his Viva Las Vegas (1964) by
the time she filmed this black-and-white outing. She sheds her ingenue persona
with sex kitten ferocity in a tale (or tail) that was based upon the 1959 novel
of the same name. Kitten is a showcase for her considerable talents in a
performance that goes from sublime and demur to that of a fighting and snarling
hellcat. The dialog dances around the issues of promiscuity and infidelity the
way that it had to at that time, coming on the heels of Elia Kazan’s 1958 Baby
Doll and Stanley Kubrick’s 1962 Lolita (in the novel Jody and David
have sex, however that would have been a big screen no-no in 1964 something
that Alfred Hitchcock knew all too well). Kitten comes just a little
later than it probably should have, but it allows its star to alternate
emotions in a performance that fluctuates from naïve innocence to verbally
threatening David should he call the police on her. While we are not talking
about anything so overtly sexual as the onscreen coupling of Marlon Brando and
Maria Schneider in Bernardo Bertolucci’s infamous Last Tango in Paris
(1972), the film no doubt raised some eyebrows at the time.
The movie is now available as a Region-Free Blu-ray from ViaVision Entertainment’s
fine Imprint video label, with a
brand new and beautiful high definition transfer.. The extras are as follows:
A very informative and entertaining audio commentary by film critics Alexandra
Heller-Nicholas,
author of the 2021 book The Giallo Canvas: Art, Excess and Horror Cinema,
and Josh
Nelson. They
discuss how Baltimore filmmaker John Waters considers Kitten to be a
failed art film, and there is a discussion of how the movie was seen as the low
point of Ann-Margret’s career and how she struggled and came back gloriously in
Carnal Knowledge (1971), earning her first Academy Award nomination for
Best Supporting Actress in 1972 (losing out to Cloris Leachman in The Last
Picture Show). Her second nomination was for Best Actress in Tommy
(1975) in 1976 (losing out to Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest).
Faster,
Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is
the aptly titled piece narrated by Kat Ellinger that runs about 29 minutes and
is a commentary on how teenagers were not a force to be reckoned with until
they possessed their own spending power. Juvenile delinquency was looked upon
as an epidemic that required a response. Rock ‘n Roll and comic books were
considered catalysts for juvenile delinquency, along with trashy movies at the
drive-in that were filled with violence,
sex and songs. Think the Beach Party films, Rebel Without a Cause
(1955) and The Wild One (1957) as the type of fare desired by this new dollar-toting
demographic. The Blackboard Jungle (1955) dealt with inner city school
bullies and authority, while other films presented stories of redemption and
salvation – themes that permeate much of the later cinema of Martin Scorsese.
Ms. Ellinger also discusses Roger Corman’s 1957 outing Teenage Doll, a
film devoted to girls which was released during an era of exploitation films
featuring unknown actresses. Jack Hill’s Switchblade Sisters (1973) is
also discussed as a film wherein the women use their sexuality as a weapon of
aggression. She also mentions the Sukeban films of Japan, loosely translated to
“girl boss”, a sub-genre of cinema wherein women weaponize their sexuality to
get what they want. While this piece is very interesting, the music overshadows
the narrator at times. I wish that this was addressed prior to pressing of the
disc. There is also a look at the paperback books of the era, and Jody was at
one time going to be played by Brigitte Bardot. The film falls into the “Bad
Girl” subgenre of Juvenile Delinquent stories.
She
Reached for Evil: Dissecting Kitten with a Whip is a video essay that runs about 18
minutes on pulp author Wade Miller by author and film historian Andrew Nette
(2021).
There
is also a photo gallery of black and white stills from the film.
MST3000
rips on the film as a parody in 1994 and is a hoot to listen to.
Click Here to order from Amazon USA and ignore
Amazon’s caveat about regional encoding. This disc will play an any Blu-ray
player. Non-U.S. readers can order the film directly from Imprint by clicking here.
Canadian
filmmaker David Cronenberg has always managed to push the envelope with nearly
every one of his striking pieces of work since he appeared on the scene in the
mid-1970s. Known at first as primarily a director of unique “body-horror” films
(The Brood, 1979, or The Fly; 1986), Cronenberg spread his wings
in the 1990s and moved away from the genre to tackle more dramatic and varied
subjects. His 2007 crime picture about the Russian mafia operating in London, Eastern
Promises, stands as a milestone title in the director’s filmography.
Kino
Lorber Classics has released a superb 2-disk (4K Ultra and Blu-ray) package of
the film, and the results are impressive. The picture quality is so sharp and
clear that it could be used as a demonstration product for high definition
televisions.
Anna
Khitrova (Naomi Watts) is a British-Russian who lives with her parents, Helen
and Stepan (Sinéad Cusack, and filmmaker Jerzy Skolimowsky in
an acting role). Stepan is an ex-KGB officer, and the family emigrated to the
U.K. some years ago. Anna works as a midwife in a London hospital, where she treats
a teenage Russian girl who dies in childbirth. The girl has a diary, written in
Russian, as well as a business card for a well-known Russian restaurant. Anna
is determined to find the girl’s family so that the baby can have a proper home.
She visits the restaurant and meets the manager, Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl),
but he is really an elderly but powerful Russian mafia chief. Semyon has a
brash and reckless son, Kirill (Vincent Cassel), who runs brothels in London
stocked with women trafficked from Russia. The family’s bodyguard/chauffeur is
Nikolai (Viggo Mortensen). He is a formidable killer who insists he’s “just the
driver,” and yet there is something good inside Nikolai that transcends his
menace. As Anna digs deeper into the mystery, she discovers the truth about the
organized crime going on in her city, and she also develops a dangerous mutual
attraction with Nikolai. When Kirill authorizes a hit on a rival Chechen gangster
without Semyon’s approval, a war between the two groups ensues, and Anna and
her parents are caught in the middle.
Eastern
Promises,
written by Steven Knight, is one of the better organized crime pictures ever
made. Cronenberg and Knight seriously did a deep-dive into the realism of the
piece, and star Mortensen went so far as to hang out with real Russian mafia
soldiers to learn the lingo and especially study the all-important tattoos that
adorn the men’s bodies.
Viggo
Mortensen is fabulous in his portrayal and he was Oscar-nominated for his
efforts. For this reviewer’s money, he should have won (Daniel Day-Lewis scored
the trophy for There Will Be Blood). For the fight scene in the bath house
alone, in which an entirely nude Mortensen fights two clothed men armed with
knives, the actor deserved every accolade on the planet. The sequence is the
centerpiece of the film, and it’s one of the best directed and choreographed
fight scenes of the last twenty years.
Watts
is terrific, as always, and Mueller-Stahl delivers a chilling turn, too. However,
the movie belongs to Mortensen and to director Cronenberg.
For
Kino Lorber’s HDR Dolby Vision Master of the movie, Peter Suschitzky approved
and color graded his own cinematography. It looks simply marvelous. There are
several short vintage featurettes included as supplements, also in HD: interviews
with writer Knight and director Cronenberg; a piece on the tattoos and their
significance; and looks at the bath house scene and Naomi Watts’ motorcycle
riding, plus two theatrical trailers and other Kino Lorber trailers.
Eastern
Promises is
for fans of riveting crime dramas, the films of David Cronenberg, actor Viggo
Mortensen, and actress Naomi Watts. Highly recommended.
By
1939, comic superstar W. C. Fields (real name William Claude Dukenfield) had a
love-hate relationship with Hollywood. While he was still something of a box
office draw and enjoyed immense popularity, Fields’ relationship with the
bottle was causing more problems for the actor, and he had lost his contract
with Paramount, the home of his earlier talkies. After a resurgence in
admiration due to radio broadcasts with ventriloquist Edgar Bergen (and his
dummy partner, Charlie McCarthy), Fields signed a new contract with Universal.
The first picture out of the gate was a team-up with Fields and Bergen/McCarthy.
You
Can’t Cheat an Honest Man can’t be counted among Fields’ best pictures, but it’s
entertaining and funny enough. It is arguable that Bergen and McCarthy steal
the show based on Bergen’s charm and good looks, and Bergen’s is the most
likable character in the story. While Fields has some great signature lines in
the picture, Bergen and McCarthy have a great deal of funny dialogue.
The
movie’s story is by Fields (using the pseudonym Charles Bogle), with a
screenplay by Everett Freeman, Richard Mack, and George Marion, Jr. George
Marshall received screen credit as director, although historians have claimed
that Marshall and Fields did not get along. Hence, Edward F. Cline was brought
in to exclusively work with Fields on his scenes; Cline was then hired to
direct Fields’ next films with Universal. Furthermore, second unit director B.
Reeves Eason did more than his share of action and chase sequences. Remarkably,
the film, with three directors, came out all right.
Fields
is Larsen E. Whipsnade (Larsen E.? Get it?), a traveling circus proprietor who
cheats his own staff by not paying them. The law is after him, too, and the
circus is one step away from bankruptcy. He has grown children not involved in
the circus—Vicky (Constance Moore) and Phineas (John Arledge). Phineas wants
Vicky to marry wealthy but boring socialite Roger Bel-Goodie (James Bush) so
that Phineas can get a job in Roger’s company, but Vicky isn’t keen. When she
visits her father at the circus, Vicky meets Edgar Bergen (playing himself, as
one of the circus acts), who is never without his dummy, Charlie. Edgar
immediately falls for Vicky, and while Whipsnade has no problem with Edgar, he
can’t stand Charlie (a “termite’s flophouse!”). Vicky eventually agrees to
marry Roger in order to become wealthy enough to save her father’s circus.
During the final half hour of the film, Vicky and Roger’s engagement party at
the posh Bel-Goodie mansion becomes a chaotic disruption as Whipsnade manages
to insult and frighten the elder Bel-Goodies, while Edgar/Charlie have been
cast adrift in a weather balloon. Will Vicky and Edgar get together? Will the
circus be saved? Who cares, it’s all just a vehicle for the brilliance of W. C.
Fields’ comedic antics and Edgar Bergen’s talent at ventriloquism.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray 2K master looks and sounds fine, certainly an upgrade from
previous DVD releases. There is an informative and humorous audio commentary by
film historian Michael Schlesinger, plus the theatrical trailers for this and
other Kino Lorber releases.
You
Can’t Cheat an Honest Man is for fans of W. C. Fields, Edgar Bergen, and late 1930s
Hollywood comedy. As Larsen E. Whipsnade’s grandfather Litvak used to say, “You
can’t cheat an honest man. Never give a sucker an even break or smarten up a
chump.”
