Devotion: A Biographical Misfire

Ida Lupino as Emily Bronte.

With a top-flight cast, rich source material, and high production values, Devotion (1946) has all the makings of a classic film biography of the Bronte sisters. And yet, when "The End" finally flashed on the screen, all I could do was ponder how things went so terribly wrong. It's not a dreadful movie, mind you--but it's inaccurate, inconsiderate, and empty.

The inaccuracy is nothing new when it comes to film biographies. There are plenty of biographies that take dramatic license with real events. Devotion imagines that Charlotte Bronte (Olivia de Havilland) and her sister Emily (Ida Lupino) fell in love with the same man, a curate (Paul Henreid) who worked for their father. Each sibling pours their passion into their novels and the results are Charlotte's Jane Eyre and Emily's Wuthering Heights. 

According to most accounts, real life featured less emotional turmoil and more interesting people. There was no love triangle. Emily never married; in fact, there is no indication of any romantic relationship in her life. Wuthering Heights was the product of her literary imagination. She and Charlotte were not close (the latter was eight years older); Emily felt a more kindred connection with her younger sister Anne. Keith Winter's screenplay does get some things right: brother Bramwell was an alcoholic; the sisters attended a school in Belgium; and Jane Eyre was a contemporary popular success while Wuthering Heights was not.

Olivia de Havilland as Charlotte.

The inaccuracies in Devotion, though, are less offensive than the film's inconsiderate treatment of its audience. The filmmakers seem to assume that the audience can't handle a serious portrait of the Bronte sisters' lives. The first half of Devotion unfolds like an adaptation of Little Women with the sisters and their brother frolicking on the moors and Charlotte developing a schoolgirl crush on her headmaster. Just as Ida Lupino, who provides some much-needed gravitas, finally steers the film in the right direction, Emily is relegated to the background as Charlotte becomes a London celebrity. From there, Devotion limps to its conclusion.

There are small pleasures to enjoy along the way, in particular Erich Wolfgang Korngold's rich music score and Ernest Haller's atmospheric cinematography. There is almost a quaint charm about the stagey "B" movie sets that are supposed to be the moors. Yet, nothing can save Devotion from its fate as a subpar biography dressed up like a Warner Bros. "A" production.

Although completed in 1944, Devotion was not released until two years later--a rare practice in the 1940s. Some historians believe that the delay was related to Olivia de Havilland's landmark lawsuit against Warner Bros. that resulted in the creation of the De Havilland Law.

Westworld: When Androids Run Amok

Yul Brynner as an android.

Delos is a luxury resort made up of three immersive, android‑populated theme parks: Westworld, Romanworld, and Medievalworld. Guests are greeted with a polished, almost too-perfect welcome that promises “the vacation of your dreams” in a place where nothing can go wrong. The staff present the resort as a flawless, high‑end escape where every desire can be indulged safely, thanks to the supposedly infallible android hosts. It’s a sales pitch wrapped in luxury and reassurance.

Richard Benjamin plays Peter Martin, a first-time visitor, who is still coping with the breakdown of his marriage. His friend John (James Brolin) has brought him to Westworld to forget about his troubles and indulge in his fantasy of living in the Old West. Initially, Peter is skeptical. But after defeating a gunslinger (Yul Brynner) in a saloon shootout and spending the night in a rowdy brothel, he begins to enjoy his vacation.

However, unknown to Peter and John, the scientists that operate the park have noticed some inconsistencies in the behavior of the androids. When a cascading system failure transforms some of the androids into killers, the two men must fight for their survival.

Bestselling author Michael Critchton wrote and directed Westworld (1973). It marked his theatrical film directing debut (he helmed the made-for-TV movie Pursuit one year earlier). The film's theme is one that would become prevalent in many Critchton books and films: When humans build powerful systems they don’t fully understand, the systems eventually stop behaving the way we expect. The most obvious extension of Westworld is Jurassic Park, in which there is a park (again) populated by man-made creatures (again) that react in an unexpected and violent way (again).

Richmond Benjamin.

Westworld is built on a fascinating premise, but its emotional core is thin: the film never invests enough in its characters for us to truly care when their lives are threatened. James Brolin’s John is so smug and self‑assured that he barely registers the danger around him, while Richard Benjamin’s Peter mostly frets about his failed marriage. Other guests—such as Dick Van Patten’s eager Medievalworld visitor—appear briefly and vanish before we can form any attachment. The result is a film rich in ideas but emotionally cold, a clinical exploration of technological hubris that keeps viewers intellectually engaged yet distant from the human stakes.

The supporting cast includes Yul Brynner as an android gunslinger--his all‑black outfit intentionally styled to evoke his iconic role as Chris Adams in The Magnificent Seven. Brynner also appears briefly as the Gunslinger in the best-forgotten Westworld sequel Futureworld (1976), which did not involve Critchon. Star Trek fans may recognize Majel Barrett, Nurse Chapel on the original Star Trek, as the brothel madam.

The Westworld TV series (2016-2022) is not a continuation of Crichton's film. Rather, it is a rethinking that reflects on and expands the original's themes.

Hollywood Goes Welsh: How Green Was My Valley and The Corn Is Green

Maureen O'Hara and Walter Pidgeon.

How Green Was My Valley (1941). One of John Ford's most beloved movies, How Green Was My Valley won five Academy Awards including Best Picture. It ranks #75 in the 2007 edition of the American Film Institute's 100 Years…100 Movies. In 1990, the Library of Congress added it to the National Film Registry, recognizing it as a "culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant work."

The film follows Huw Morgan (Roddy McDowall) as he nostalgically recalls his childhood in a Welsh mining village, where his close‑knit family endures the hardships of dangerous coal‑pit labor, economic decline, and social upheaval. Through Huw’s eyes, the story traces the Morgans’ struggles with a miners’ strike, the fracturing of family unity, and the bittersweet passage from an idyllic green valley to an industrially scarred landscape.

Roddy McDowall.

His sister Angharad (Maureen O'Hara) falls in love with the village preacher, Mr. Gruffydd (Walter Pidgeon), but social pressure pushes her into an unhappy marriage. Huw witnesses his brothers leave the valley in search of better opportunities as wages fall and the mines grow more perilous. He endures his own hardships at school, where he faces bullying before proving his resilience. The central figures in the story, though, are his hard-working father (Donald Crisp) and his steadfast mother (Sara Allgood).

There is much to admire in Ford's family saga, from its outstanding sets and cinematography to the performances of Crisp, Allgood, McDowall, and O'Hara. However, Philip Dunne's adaptation of Richard Llewellyn's 1939 bestseller tries to cram too much plot into the two-hour running time. Characters, such as Huw's charming sister-in-law Bron, are introduced and then ignored for long stretches. A subplot about a local choir performing for Queen Victoria is left hanging. After a long opening narration by the adult Huw, the closing narration feels rushed and incomplete. According to some sources, producer Daryl F. Zanuck originally intended to make a three-hour epic. I think that would have worked better in this case.

How Green Was My Valley is a very good John Ford picture, but I wouldn't rank it with his best. Ford’s most enduring achievements—The Quiet Man and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance among them—derive their strength from a concentrated attention to a handful of characters. These films reveal how much more incisive Ford becomes when he works on a smaller emotional canvas, rather than the sweeping, ensemble-driven mode of How Green Was My Valley.

Bette Davis as Miss Moffat.

The Corn Is Green (1945). Set in the late 19th century, The Corn Is Green stars Bette Davis as L.C. Moffat, a determined English schoolteacher who moves to a struggling Welsh mining village and opens a school. The story centers on her discovery of a young miner, Morgan Evans, whose academic potential is waiting to be unlocked. As Morgan transforms from an unrefined laborer into a promising scholar, the film highlights themes of social mobility, the power of education, and the personal sacrifices required to change a life.

Adapted from Emlyn Williams' 1938 stage play, which starred Ethel Barrymore on Broadway, The Corn Is Green is a Bette Davis vehicle in every sense of the term. She dominates her scenes with the same conviction that Miss Moffat brings to her role as local educator. It may not be Ms. Davis's most subtle performance, but it's a passionate one that propels the plot and themes effectively. It helps that she is surrounded by polished supporting players, three of whom reprise their roles from the Broadway production: Rhys Williams and Mildred Dunnock whose characters are recruited as teachers, and Rosalind Ivan, who plays Miss Moffat's housekeeper.

Joan Lorring.

However, the only members of the cast nominated for Oscars were John Dall (Supporting Actor) and Joan Lorring (Supporting Actress). The latter has the film's showiest role as the housekeeper's dissatisfied daughter whose selfish desires alter the lives of Miss Moffat and her protege. Lorring pulls off the part with conviction, reminding me a little of Bette Davis's similar performance in Of Human Bondage (1934). Sadly, it was her most notable role in an abbreviated screen movie career.

John Dall provides the necessary earnestness and conflict as Morgan. He shines in a scene in which he recounts to his teacher the simple joy of having an intelligent conversation with a fellow scholar. Still, Dall seems miscast at times. He was a last minute replacement for Richard Waring, who originated the part on Broadway, but entered the Army during World War II. At age 25, Dall looks too old to pass for a teenager (Waring was even older!). The stage-trained actor also sounds too articulate despite his attempts to sound blue-collar. 

Director Irving Rapper directs efficiently, making no attempt to "open up" the stage play adaptation. He worked frequently with friend Bette Davis. Their other collaborations include Shining Victory (1941), Now, Voyager (1942), Deception (1946), and Another Man's Poison (1952).

George Cukor directed Katharine Hepburn in a 1979 made-for-TV adaptation of The Corn Is Green. Five years earlier, Bette Davis starred in a 1974 pre-Broadway musical adaptation called Miss Moffat. It was set in the Southern U.S. with Moffat teaching a young Black man. It closed out of town, never reaching Broadway.

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting...Vampires!

John Forbes-Robertson as Dracula.

I first saw The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires in a re-edited U.S. print called The Seven Brothers Meet Dracula. Let me start this review by encouraging you to never see that movie! It eliminates 14 minutes of plot and, if memory serves, still repeats a couple of scenes. Even the title change makes no sense as one of the "brothers" is a sister.

So, it was with trepidation that I watched The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974) several years later. My concerns were quickly put to rest as I viewed this wacky, wildly entertaining blend of vampires and kung fu. Over the years, it has become an annual Halloween tradition for this reviewer.

The film begins in Transylvania in 1804 with a Chinese monk named Kah journeying to Castle Dracula. Kah, an evil high priest, used to rule the village of Ping Kuei with his seven Golden Vampires. However, their power is fading and Kah wants Dracula to return them to full strength. Initially, Dracula shrugs off the idea because, obviously, he gains nothing from it. However, realizing that Transylvania has been sucked dry of blood, Dracula kills Kah, assumes his form, and heads to Asia to build a new empire with the Golden Vampires.

Cushing as Van Helsing.

A century later, Hsi Ching, a young man from Ping Kuei, seeks out Professor Van Helsing (Peter Cushing). Hsi Ching wants the famous vampire hunter, who has been lecturing at a Chungking University, to help his fellow villagers destroy the Golden Vampires and their leader. Van Helsing agrees and sets off on a trek to Ping Kuei accompanied by his son Leyland, Hsi Ching and his siblings, and a wealthy, beautiful widow (Julie Ege) who has financed the mission. Along the way, the group is confronted by bandits, staves off a vampire attack in a cave (the film's highlight), and eventually battles the Golden Vampires and Count Dracula.

Although kung fu and vampires might seem like unlikely bedfellows, The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires merges the two genres seamlessly. The film was a co-production between Hammer Films and Shaw Bros. However, it's definitely a "Hammer film" and boasts the studio's usual polish (e.g., good-looking costumes, James Bernard's music). Peter Cushing, playing Van Helsing (or a descendant) for the fifth and final time, also provides some much-needed of gravitas. 

Most of the film was directed by Hammer veteran Roy Ward Baker. However, according to Geoff Mayer's book Roy Ward Baker, Shaw Bros. executive Run Run Shaw insisted that the fight scenes be overseen by his in-house director Chang Cheh. 

David Chiang as Hsi Ching.

David Chiang, who plays Hsi Ching, was already a popular Asian star and punches and kicks with authority when it's time to pummel vampires. On the other hand, his character's romance with Julie Ege's overdressed widow never quite gels. The same can be said for Leyland Van Helsing's attraction to Hsi Ching's sister. Neither relationship has time to develop given the film's pace and 89-minute running time.

Additionally, The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires requires a little suspension of belief. It's never clear why Dracula (not played by Christopher Lee) needs to assume the guise of Kah. The timeline is also out of whack with the rest of the Hammer Dracula series. If Dracula started posing as Kah in 1804 and was still doing so a century later, how could he have encountered Van Helsing in Dracula in 1885?

I suppose one needs to cast those quibbles aside and enjoy The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires for what it is: a unique, quirky mash-up of vampires and kung fu with a dash of plotting borrowed from The Seven Samurai. Now, who can refuse that?

Raquel Welch Races Around the Rink in Kansas City Bomber

Raquel Welch was at or near the peak of her career when she starred as a roller derby queen in Kansas City Bomber (1972). It's not the kind of role one would typically associate with the 1970s biggest sex symbol--but that's probably why she took it. Throughout her career, Welch sought out unexpected roles in films like Hannie Caulder (1971), The Wild Party (1975), and The Legend of Walks Far Woman (1982). Sometimes, her choices panned out (her delightful turn in The Three Musketeers) and sometimes they did not (the ill-fated Myra Breckenridge). Kansas City Bomber falls into the former category.

Welch stars as K.C. Carr, a promising roller derby player who is surprised to learn that she has been traded to the Portland Loggers. Most of her new teammates are unenthused about her arrival--especially Jackie Burdette who fears she is being replaced as the team's star. Actually, Burdette has little cause for concern, as the Loggers' owner (Kevin McCarthy) plans to sell the team and make K.C. a superstar for his new Chicago team. 

So, is Kansas City Bomber a character study? A chronicle of life on the road, in the vein of the later Slap Shot (1977)? Or a a portrait of hardcore fans obsessed with a scripted "sport"? The problem is that Kansas City Bomber is all of those things...and it's too much to pack into a 99-minute movie overstuffed with roller derby footage. 

Welch makes K.C. an fairly interesting, albeit confused, protagonist. The roller derby star wants to be a good single mother, but chooses a job that keeps her away from her family for weeks at a time. Her daughter (a young Jodie Foster) copes well enough, but her son rejects her (a subplot cast by the wayside). K.C. wants to fit in with her teammates, but starts an awkward romantic relationship with the team's owner (talk about accusations of favoritism!). She befriends a socially-challenged male player, totally misreading that he believes it's more than friendship.

K.C.'s exploits are framed against blue collar northwestern locations (much of it was filmed in Portland). Director Jerrold Freedman--who later helmed the excellent made-for-TV thriller A Cold Night's Death--captures the dingy locker rooms, the long bus rides, and the neon bars. He also paints an effective portrait of the manic fans, who spend their money to taunt the players and throw trash on the track. Though George Roy Hill covers the same ground more effectively in Slap Shot, it's worth noting that Freedman did it earlier. Indeed, Freedman's only misstep is the inclusion of too many extraneous roller derby scenes. (Ten minutes could have been easily trimmed from the 99-minute running time.)

Kansas City Bomber is not a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. It's a solid, unexceptional film that proves that Raquel Welch became a better actress as her career progressed. It's a must for Welch fans and for those who appreciate early 1970s cinema (as I do). For other viewers, there are worse ways to spend a lazy afternoon or late night.

Seven Things to Know About Charles Bronson

Bronson in The Dirty Dozen.

1. Charles Bronson and Jack Klugman were roommates early in their careers. According to Klugman, Bronson was by far the neater of the two--in other words, he was sort of the Felix to Klugman's Oscar. When Bronson died in 2003, Klugman wrote a farewell tribute to his friend for Entertainment Weekly.

2. Charles Bronson had become an in-demand supporting actor in 1960s Hollywood, with key performances in big hits like The Magnificent Seven (1960), The Great Escape (1963), and The Dirty Dozen (1967). However, lead roles were few and far between and limited to low-budget movies like Machine Gun Kelly (1958) and Master of the World (1961). Italian director Sergio Leone offered Bronson the starring role in the 1964 Spaghetti Western A Fistful of Dollars. Bronson rejected the part after reading the script and then watched as the film made Clint Eastwood an international star. Even after that, Bronson turned down opportunities to star alongside Eastwood in Leone's classic Westerns For a Few Dollars More and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. (Bronson was replaced--memorably--by Lee Van Cleef in both films.)

3. Bronson's acting career got the jolt it needed when he teamed with French superstar Alain Delon in the 1968 heist film Farewell, Friend (aka Honor Among Thieves). Delon, who admired Bronson's work in Machine Gun Kelly, played a major role in casting the American as his co-star. Farewell, Friend was a huge hit in Europe and Bronson followed it with Once Upon a Time in the West (finally working with Leone), Rider on the Rain, Red Sun, Chato's Land, and The Valachi Papers. These motion pictures cemented the rugged Bronson's stardom in France (where he was known as  “Le Sacre Monstre”), Italy (where he was dubbed “Il Bruto”), and Spain.  By 1972, he was the subject of a Newsweek article and had been proclaimed the number one box office star in the world by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association.

Bronson in Once Upon a Time.

4. Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) was a huge hit in Europe, but a financial flop in the U.S. Paramount, which handled the American release, trimmed 25 minutes from Leone's 165-minute film, which surely didn't help with understanding the lengthy plot. However, the film's reputation has grown steadily since its original release. In 2005, Time Magazine’s film critics, Richard Corliss and Richard Schickel, included Once Upon a Time in the West on their list of the 100 Greatest Movies. Bronson's performance is often cited as one of his best, along with Death Wish, Hard Times, and the underrated From Noon Till Three.

5. Bronson met David McCallum's wife, Jill Ireland, on the set of The Great Escape in 1962. He famously told McCallum: "I'm going to marry your wife." Bronson was married at the time to Harriet Tendler, whom he divorced in 1965. That same year, Ireland and McCallum separated; they divorced two years later after ten years of marriage. Bronson and Ireland wed in 1968 and remained together until her death from breast cancer in 1990 at age 54. The couple appeared in 15 movies together (not counting a cameo by Ireland in Lola). Their best films together were the previously mentioned From Noon Till Three and Hard Times.

6. After his international box office successes, Charles Bronson returned to the U.S. to star in The Mechanic (1972). He played an assassin who trains a protege, played by Jan-Michael Vincent (Richard Dreyfuss was originally cast in the role, but later dropped out). While The Mechanic, The Stone Killer, and Mr. Majestyk all turned profits, it was Death Wish (1974) that made Bronson a household name in America. The controversial vigilante drama was condemned by some critics and praised by others. It was the thirteenth biggest domestic box office hit in 1974. It had staying power, too, not reaching on the top spot on Variety's box office chart until its twentieth week of release. In response to some of the negative film reviews, Bronson quipped: "We don't make movies for critics, since they don't pay to see them anyhow."

7. Charles Bronson was no stranger to television. He guest-starred on many popular 1960s TV series, to include: Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone, Have Gun--Will Travel, The Untouchables, Dr. Kildare, Rawhide, The Big Valley, The F.B.I., and The Fugitive. In 1958, Bronson starred in his own TV series, Man With a Camera, for 29 episodes. He played a free-lance photographer in New York City in the half-hour show. Bronson joined the 1963-64 Western series The Travels of Jamie McPheeters at mid-season. A young Kurt Russell played the title role and the Osmond Brothers appeared in nine episodes. The 1965 theatrical film Guns of Diablo is an expanded version of the final episode of The Travels of Jamie McPheeters. Finally, Charles Bronson earned his only Emmy nomination (for best supporting actor) for the anthology series General Electric Theater. In the 1961 episode "Memory in White," he played a boxer alongside Sammy Davis, Jr. and Joe Besser (of the later Three Stooges).

A Double Bout of Amnesia: Love Letters and The Groundstar Conspiracy

Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotten.

Love Letters (1945). During World War II, soldier Allen Quinton (Joseph Cotten) writes eloquent love letters on behalf of his less‑articulate comrade Roger. The woman receiving them, Victoria (Jennifer Jones), falls in love with the writer--whom she believes is Roger. She and Roger later wed, but the marriage ends in tragedy. The trauma results in amnesia, with Victoria forgetting everything about her past except the name Singleton. After the war, Allen struggles with PTSD. At a low point in his life, he meets a beautiful, strange woman with whom he connects instantly. She goes by a one-word name: Singleton.

Ayn Rand (The Fountainhead) penned the screenplay Love Letters from the novel Pity the Simplicity by Christopher Massie. It's a canny mixture of Cyrano de Bergerac and Random Harvest, though it never reaches those heights in terms of drama. The film's first half works best, with its emphasis on Allen and Singleton and their evolving relationship. Eventually, though, it turns into a somewhat conventional mystery with Allen trying to figure out what happened on the tragic night that caused the amnesia.

Jennifer Jones gives one of her most restrained performances. However, Cotten anchors the film with his quiet compassion. Surprisingly, he was the second choice for the role of Allen, with Gregory Peck turning down the part. The strong supporting cast includes a very likable Ann Richards, Cecil Kellaway in a role that should have been larger, and Glady Cooper in a brief, compelling appearance.

Love Letters earned four Academy Award nominations: Best Actress for Jennifer Jones; Best Score and Best Song for Victor Young; and Best Art Direction (black & white). 

I always find a certain charm about Hollywood's recreation of England in the 1930s and 1940s (see The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, The Uninvited). Love Letters is another fine example, aided by Lee Garmes' evocative cinematography. The acclaimed Garmes worked with Jennifer Jones on three films, the other two being Since You Went Away (1944) and Duel in the Sun (1946). 

George Peppard as Tuxan.

The Groundstar Conspiracy (1972). A sabotage attempt at a top‑secret research facility leaves a single survivor: a badly injured man who insists he has no memory of who he is or why he was there. Government investigator Tuxan (George Peppard) becomes convinced the man—now calling himself Welles—is a spy, and he pressures him for answers. As Welles (Michael Sarrazin) struggles to piece together fragments of his identity, a larger web of deception emerges, revealing that the truth behind the break‑in is far stranger and more unsettling than anyone expected.

The Groundstar Conspiracy was one of several amnesia films made in the 1960s and early 1970s (others include Mirage, Mister Buddwing, and Jigsaw). It's an efficiently made movie that holds interest without delivering the thrill its teases. The big twist at the climax, while lacking originally, works surprisingly well. And that's important in a film like this, because if the "big reveal" is a letdown, then the audience may feel ripped off for investing its time in a shoddy product.

George Peppard's "hero," Tuxan, is an unlikable, relentless security expert. To potentially gain information, he has no qualms about using a hidden camera to film an innocent woman--even when she is making love. Thematically, Tuxan's belief that potential intelligence outweighs an individual's privacy is the most provocative part of The Groundstar Conspiracy and an issue that remains relevant today. However, even of exploring this theme in depth (as The Conversation would do later), The Groundstar Conspiracy is content to function as disposable thriller.

Peppard is well cast, having long ago jettisoned the romantic, nice guy roles that stifled his early career (e.g., Home from the Hill, Breakfast at Tiffany's). He brings a hard edge and a rebellious attitude toward authority to his role. Michael Sarrazin does what he can as the amnesiac, but it's a thankless part to some extent because he essentially functions as what Hitchcock would call the MacGuffin.

I first saw The Groundstar Conspiracy on NBC's Monday Night at the Movies in the 1970s. While I forgot the plot over the years, the opening always stuck with me because of a very long pre-title sequence (an oddity at the time).