Disney Takes on a Children's Classic and a Spooky Washington Irving Tale

Mr. Toad--in disguise--and friends.

Released in 1949, Walt Disney's The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad consists of two half-hour animated shorts strung together for a theatrical release. The connecting device is simply that each featurette boasts a memorable character from literature. 

Mr. Toad is a loose adaptation of Kenneth Grahame's 1908 children's classic The Wind in the Willows. The main character is the wildly unpredictable J. Thaddeus Toad, Esq., who lives in Toad Hall, the grandest manor along the river bank. Toad's latest obsession is a horse-drawn cart, which he drives recklessly throughout the countryside, causing so much damage that he's on the verge of bankruptcy. 

His friends Rat, Mole, and McBadger try to curb Toad's "adventures," but fail badly. Shortly after seeing his first motorcar, Toad is arrested for stealing it and sentenced to 20 years in the Tower of London. Can Toad's misfortunate change his frivolous ways? And though he may be guilty of "motor mania," did Toad really steal the car?

Viewers who have never read The Wind in the Willows may find Mr. Toad amusing. It's colorful, lively, and warmly narrated by Basil Rathbone. It's just a shame that Disney veered so far from Grahame's novel. Toad has been given an accomplice, a horse named Cyril, who is just as silly as his amphibian owner. Badger has been transformed in the Scottish Angus McBadger. The focus on Toad relegates Rat and Mole--the book's most charming characters--into supporting characters. It's all a shame because the source material was there for a true Disney animated classic!

The creepy Headless Horseman.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow has been "Disneyfied" as well, but the end result works much better. The plot stays mostly true to Washington Irving's 1819 short story about Ichabod Crane, the new schoolmaster in Sleepy Hollow, a quaint New York town. Pursued by several women in the village, Ichabod sets his sites on marrying the lovely Katrina van Tassel, whose wealthy father owns the biggest farm in the area. Ichabod must fend off a rival, though, in the handsome, muscular Brom Bones.

At a harvest party hosted by Katrina's father, Brom notices that Ichabod is extremely superstitious, so he recounts the legend of the headless horseman who roams the country roads at night. On Ichabod's way home that evening, he becomes terrified as he is pursued by a...headless rider in a black cape on a black steed!

Most of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow has a light air about it with Bing Crosby narrating the story and crooning catchy songs with Jud Conlon's Rhythmaires. However, it takes a delightfully creepy turn with the climax, which is probably the scariest animated sequence in Disney history. The vivid black, red, and orange palette serves as a stark contrast to the soft, rich autumn colors employed earlier in the story.

It's also interesting to note the similarity between the village scenes in Sleepy Hollow and Disney's much later Beauty and the Beast (1991). Additionally, Brom reminded me very much of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

Brom from Sleepy Hollow and Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

Mr. Toad and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow were subsequently shown separately on television and in theaters. For its 1978 re-release, Mr. Toad was retitled The Madcap Adventures of Mr. Toad and shown with Disney's feature film Hot Lead and Cold Feet.

Is "The Court Jester" the Best Classic Movie Comedy?

I recently watched The Court Jester (1955) for perhaps the tenth time--and laughed just as much as the first time. I realize comedy is very subjective as some folks prefer broad laughs and others opt for dark humor. But I'm hard pressed to think of a classic film comedy that's as nearly perfect as The Court Jester.

For the uninitiated, it's a medieval tale in which the Black Fox (a sort of Robin Hood) plots to restore the rightful heir to the throne: a royal baby with a purple pimpernel birthmark on his posterior. Danny Kaye plays Hawkins, a minor member of the Black Fox's gang, who is given the mission of smuggling the baby into the palace and getting the key to a secret passageway to the Black Fox. Of course, Hawkins is not entrusted with this mission alone; he is accompanied by Jean (Glynis Johns), one of the Black Fox's senior officers.

En route to the palace, Hawkins and Jean encounter the new royal jester Giacomo ("King of jesters and jester of kings"). Learning that no one in the king's court has ever seen Giacomo, they hatch a quick scheme that has Hawkins assuming the identity of the jester.

Danny Kaye and Basil Rathbone: "Get it? Got it. Good!"

They don't know, of course, that the villainous Sir Ravenhurst (Basil Rathbone) has hired Giacomo to assassinate three of the king's advisors. Nor could they anticipate that Princess Gwendolyn's lady-in-waiting, Griselda, has promised that a handsome stranger will rescue the princess from an undesirable marriage. To ensure that Hawkins/Giacomo meets the princess's expectations, Griselda (Mildred Natwick) hypnotizes him into thinking he's the medieval version of Rudolph Valentino.

Cecil Parker and Angela Lansbury.

Written and directed by Melvin Frank and Norman Panama, The Court Jester is a textbook example of how to tailor a film to fit its star's skills. Danny Kaye's physicality, quick delivery of dialogue, and exaggerated facial expressions are masterfully exploited in at least five classic comic routines. The most famous, of course, is the "Chalice from the Palace", but almost equally as funny are: Hawkins portraying an old man who is hard of hearing; the romancing of Princess Gwendolyn as Hawkins snaps in and out of his hypnotic trance; Hawkins' "get it, got it, good" exchanges with Ravenhurst, and the climatic sword fight. Simply put, it's the best part ever for the multi-talented Kaye.

Glynis Johns as Jean.

When I think of movies in which every role is ideally cast, three films come to mind: The Wizard of Oz, The Adventures of Robin Hood...and The Court Jester. It should come as no surprise that marvelous actors such as Lansbury, Rathbone, Natwick, and Johns possess impeccable comic timing. But it's also apparent that care was put into casting even the smaller parts. Cecil Parker is a delight as the king whose principal focus is on selecting wenches for a feast. Even Robert Middleton, who played his share of villains, generates laughs as Sir Griswold as he tries to remember which goblet contains the pellet with the poison.

Danny Kaye and Mildred Natwick.

Naturally, even the best comedians can falter without a funny script, so it's fortunate that The Court Jester was written (and directed) by Frank and Panama. Their greatest accomplishment is with how they incorporate the aforementioned laugh-out-loud gags into a carefully crafted spoof of costume adventures such as Errol Flynn's Robin Hood. The two writers, who met while students at the University of Chicago, worked together for three decades and penned the scripts for films such as Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, The Road to Utopia (the finest Road picture), and White Christmas (Danny Kaye's second-best film).

It's not all perfect. The opening musical number, while clever and lively, goes on too long. (Still, it serves the purpose of introducing Hawkins' acrobatic friends, which become important later.) Once Hawkins assumes the guise of Giacomo, The Court Jester rolls along at a frolicking pace. From that point on, it may produce the most laughs per minute of any comedy (only A Shot in the Dark comes close). And I must say that my wife and I have never shown The Court Jester to anyone who didn't have a grand time.

So is it the best classic movie comedy? I honestly can't think of a better one, so I'll say yes! Get it? Got it. Good!


This review is part of the Adoring Angela Lansbury Blogathon hosted by Realweegiemidget Reviews.

Below is the scene where a hypnotized Hawkins is sent to woo Princess Gwendolyn. It's the fourth most-watched clip (out of over 100) on the Cafe's YouTube channel.

The Five Best Philo Vance Movies

Having been a Philo Vance aficionado since my teenage years, I can attest that no actor has captured the uppity, intellectual sleuth. Willard Huntington Wright, writing under the pseudonym S.S. Van Dine, penned twelve Vance novels between 1926 and 1939. The first four are excellent mysteries that minimize the academic discourse that would plague the later works. William Powell played the detective four times on the screen...but his portrayal wasn't the best. Without further...discourse...here are our picks for the five best Philo Vance movies:

Warren William as Philo.

1.  The Dragon Murder Case (1934) - At a country estate in upper New York, wealthy playboy Sanford Montague disappears after a night-time dive into a natural lake called the Dragon Pool. When Montague fails to turn up after a day, the police drain the pool and discover claw marks on the sandy bottom. Later, detective Philo Vance discovers Montague's dead body in a "glacial pot-hole" on another part of the estate. The victim's mangled body is covered with large claw marks--as if he had been ripped open by a dragon. This snappy, atmospheric mystery features a fine performance from Warren William as an acerbic Vance and Eugene Pallette as the blustery Sergeant Heath (a role he played previously opposite Powell). It's too bad Warren William only played Vance one other time in the comedic The Gracie Allen Murder Case (1939).

2.  The Kennel Murder Case (1933) - In his famous book The Detective in Film, author William K. Everson lauded this as one of the three best detective films ever made. I wouldn't go that far, but it is William Powell's best Philo Vance film. Set against the backdrop of the Long Island Kennel Club, this is a "locked room mystery" in which the victim is found locked inside his bedroom, an apparent suicide victim. That's not the case, of course! Michael Curtiz stylishly directs, using camera movement and quick transitions to tighten the film's pace.

James Stephenson.

3.  Calling Philo Vance (1940) - This "B" remake of The Kennel Murder Case is pretty good on its own terms, weaving espionage into the plot and making Vance more action-oriented. Despite the changes, James Stephenson makes a very good Philo Vance. Warner Bros. intended to make a new series starring him, but Stephenson died of a heart attack at age 52 in 1941. He was Oscar-nominated as Best Supporting Actor the previous year opposite Bette Davis in The Letter.

4.  The Bishop Murder Case (1930) - This early talkie is slow as molasses and rather tedious. However, it features a crisp performance by Basil Rathbone as Philo, who displays much of the cutting persona that graced his later Sherlock Holmes interpretation. The plot is also a clever one involving nursery rhymes and chess. It was based on my favorite of the Philo Vance novels and needs to be remade one day!

William Powell.

5.  The Green Murder Case (1929) - My wife and father maintain that the source novel for Powell's second film was the best novel (no, it's second best!). The plot is ostensibly about one of those wealthy families where everyone is bumped off so the killer can claim a large inheritance. Jean Arthur plays Ada Greene, one of the suspects. The cunning mystery still holds up, even if the production now seems dated and the usually reliable Eugene Pallette comes across as too inept as Sergeant Heath.

Holmes on a Train in "Terror By Night"

Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes.

There are better entries in the Basil Rathbone-Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes film series. In fact, when I ranked all twelve films from best to worst in 2009, Terror By Night came in #6--and, after viewing it again recently, that still feels right. But it has one thing the other SH films don't have...and that's a train. I've always had a weakness for movies set aboard trains.

Terror By Night opens with Holmes and Watson about to board the Scotch Express for business, not pleasure. Holmes has agreed to guard a 423-karat diamond known as the Star of Rhodesia. Legend has it that the stone resulted in "violent and sudden death" to all who possessed it. The current owner, Lady Margaret, is headed to Edinburgh with her son Roland.

The train has barely left the station when Roland is found dead in his compartment and the Star of Rhodesia is missing. Although there are no signs of foul play, Holmes remains convinced that Roland was murdered. (By the way, when Lady Margaret asks about the whereabouts of her son, Holmes simply nods towards the corpse on the floor...with Roland's eyes creepily open. It may be the detective's most callous act in the entire series, though he does apologize promptly.)

Dennis Hoey as Inspector Lestrade, Bruce, and Rathbone.

There is no shortage of suspects among the passengers, which include: a mathematician and his wife, a mysterious young woman, Lady Margaret, and even Dr. Watson's friend Major Duncan-Bleek. Could one of them be in league with the notorious criminal Colonel Sebastian Moran?

Renee Godfrey as a suspect.

It's not hard to guess the identity of the villain, but there's a nice little twist at the climax and some bright dialogue along the way. Roy William Neill, who directed all but one of Universal's Holmes films, keeps the plot speeding along. The entire film clocks in at under an hour. He also injects some much-needed action with a near-fatal clash between Holmes and the killer.

Sadly, Neill would only make two more films before dying of a heart attack in 1946. His last film, the noir Black Angel, would turn out to be one of his best.

As for Rathbone and Bruce, they would team up as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous duo for one last film: Dressed to Kill (1946). It's only a so-so entry, but that doesn't diminish one of the most entertaining "B" mystery film series of the 1940s.

The Beach Party Series Comes to a Sad End with "The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini"

This was not the film's original title.

As visitors to this blog know, we are Beach Party proponents, Annette admirers, and Frankie aficionados. Yes, we like our BP movies, but what is one to make of the last--and least--entry in American International's seven-film series? Frankie and Annette are nowhere to be seen. Other prominent series regulars that are also missing include Candy Johnson, Donna Loren, John Ashley, and, most notably, Jody McCrea (Bonehead/Deadhead). Even William Asher, who directed five of the series' entries, opted to avoid this outing (he had shifted his focus to his then-wife's TV series Bewitched).

In the closing credits of 1965's Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine, AIP announced that Annette Funicello, Deborah Walley, Harvey Lembeck, and Aron Kinkaid "would soon appear in The Girl in the Glass Bikini" (we'll address the title change later). However, by the time production commenced, Annette was no longer attached to the project. Deborah Walley became the female lead and Tommy Kirk, who had previously appeared in Pajama Party, was cast as her co-star.

Kirk and Walley hold hands for a seance.

The plot sends Chuck Philips (Kirk), Lili Morton (Walley), and the older Myrtle Forbush (Patsy Kelly) to the recently-deceased Hiram Stokely's creepy mansion. The trio are the rightful heirs to Hiram's estate, which includes a large sum of money hidden in the house. The dead man's lawyer, Reginald Ripper (Basil Rathbone), wants to swindle them out of their inheritance. Meanwhile, Myrtle's partying nephew Bobby (Kinkaid) shows up at the estate--as does motorcycle gang leader Eric Von Zipper (accompanied by the Ratz and Mice) and J. Sinister Hulk (Jesse White reprising his role from Pajama Party).

Karloff was too ill to stand.

When the completed film, now titled Bikini Party in a Haunted House, was screened for AIP heads James Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff, they deemed it a disaster. Nicholson came up with the idea to add a subplot in which Hiram's ghost (Boris Karloff) has to perform a good deed to get into heaven. A bikini-clad Susan Hart (who had recently married James Nicholson) was also inserted in the proceedings and the movie was retitled The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini. Unfortunately, the title change meant a big production number called "Bikini Party in a Haunted House"--featuring Aron Kinkaid and Danny Thomas protegee Piccolo Pupa on lead vocals--had to be jettisoned.

Still, the remaining songs penned by Beach Party veterans Guy Hemric and Jerry Styner are quite listenable. Nancy Sinatra does an energetic poolside rendition of "Geronimo" while the Bobby Fuller Four serves as the film's "house band." Piccolo Pupa (that was not her real name) sings lead on "Stand Up and Fight." The Italian performer never achieved success in the U.S. despite three appearances on The Danny Thomas Show and a gig on Shindig! 

Nancy Sinatra sings "Geronimo" and Piccolo Pupa dances.

The saddest part of The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini is watching a fine cast being wasted. Karloff, Rathbone, and Francis X. Bushman were all in the twilight of their careers (and Boris was quite ill). It's painful to watch these classic era stars struggle with horrible material. Just two years earlier, Karloff and Rathbone had an opportunity to show off their comedic skills in Richard Matheson's funny The Comedy of Terrors.

Quinn O'Hara as Sinistra.

It's equally frustrating to see Beach Party veterans like Harvey  Lembeck and Bobbi Shaw forced to recycle old gags. Indeed, the only cast member that escapes unscathed is Quinn O'Hara. She's pretty funny as Sinistra, Rathbone's statuesque, but blind-without-her-glasses, daughter who keeps trying to kill Kinkaid's character.

After The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini crashed at the boxoffice, American  International Pictures concentrated on biker and horror flicks (the latter was always one of the company's staples). The Beach Party series, which had started off with such promise in 1963, had lasted just four years and produced only seven films (if you don't count Ski Party). It would take a few decades for their simple nostalgia and memorable music to become fully appreciated. But these days, I can safely say I am not alone in my affection for such drive-in classics as Beach Blanket Bingo and Muscle Beach Party.


This review is part of the Beach Party Blogathon hosted by Silver Screenings and Speakeasy. Click here to view the full schedule of awesome beachy posts!

Is "Son of Frankenstein" the Best of Universal's Series?

Boris Karloff in Son of Frankenstein.

The general consensus among film critics and classic movie fans is that Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is the high point of Universal's Frankenstein series. It's also widely heralded as one of the finest horror films (TIME Magazine even ranked it as one of the 100 greatest films of all time in 2005). While I'm definitely a Bride fan, I hate that its reputation overshadows the series' next installment, 1939's Son of Frankenstein. I think it's as good--if not better--than Bride of Frankenstein.

The film opens with Wolf von Frankenstein and his family aboard a train heading for the town of Frankenstein as a horrendous thunderstorm rages across the landscape. Although there are local officials and villagers waiting at the train station, the family gets a cold reception (the burgomaster states flatly: "We are here to meet you, not to greet you."). Memories of the Frankenstein Monster's wrath still cast a dark shadow on a village that is "forsaken, desolate, and shunned by every traveler."

Ygor and friend.

Among the documents left by his father, Wolf (Basil Rathbone) finds Henry Frankenstein's records detailing how he discovered the source of life. When exploring his father's laboratory, Wolf finds the Monster--who lives, but in a comatose state. The shepherd Ygor (Bela Lugosi) tells Frankenstein that the Monster (Boris Karloff) survived the explosion at the end of Bride of Frankenstein. He implies that the Monster cannot be destroyed ("Your father made him for always"). However, while "hunting" one night, the Monster was struck by lightning and now lies almost lifeless on a slab. Wolf, who has already become obsessed with his father's work, sees restoring the Monster as a way to vindicate the family name. Of course, Ygor has other plans for the Monster....

The prevalent theme in Son of Frankenstein revolves around family. Wolf's actions are driven in large part by his desire to prove his father was a great scientist, not a mad one. When he finds the words "Maker of Monsters" etched on his father's casket, he changes "Monsters" to "Men." Another familial connection is the one between the Monster and Ygor. This is a carryover from the brief friendship between the Monster and the blind hermit from Bride of Frankenstein--only Ygor's motives are far from altruistic. Then, there's Wolf's temporary disinterest in the welfare of his own family, which almost results in his young son's death. And finally, there's the most intriguing family connection of all: Ygor notes that Wolf and the Monster are "brothers" since they shared the same father (but the Monster's "mother" was electricity!).

Bela Lugosi as Ygor.

Willis (aka Wyllis) Cooper, a radio producer, wrote the original screenplay. However, according to many sources, director Rowland V. Lee rewrote much of it during the production. That partially accounted for the film's original budget ballooning from $300,000 to $420,000. Despite the manner in which the script was developed, it contains many juicy bits of dialogue. My favorite may be Ygor's response to Frankenstein on why he was hanged: "Because I stole bodies...they said."

The picture gets a huge boost from a number of outstanding performances. Lionel Atwill's one-armed police inspector has a chilling scene in which he describes his encounter with the Monster as a boy ("One doesn't easily forget, Herr Baron, an arm torn out by the roots."). Atwill would appear in four more Frankenstein films, playing inspectors in House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula. While Boris Karloff has no dialogue in this outing, he nonethless instills the Monster with very human emotions. While more of a killer than in the previous films, he elicits sympathy in two key scenes: as he stands in front of a mirror, disgusted with his appearance, and compares himself to Wolf and when he lets out a cry of anguish after finding Ygor's body. As for Basil Rathbone, while he has been accused of overacting as Wolf, I thought his manic performance was perfect for the part. He was certainly more subdued than Colin Clive in Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein.

The Monster compares himself to Wolf von Frankenstein.

That leaves Bela Lugosi, who gives the best performance of his career. True, Ygor is a meaty role--but Lugosi attacks it with glee. He can be subtle, too, as in a brilliant scene in which he reminds Wolf that the Monster will do whatever Ygor tells him. Sadly, Lugosi reprised the role to less effect in 1942's The Ghost of Frankenstein, which, unlike its predecessors, was strictly a "B" film.

One of Otterson's distorted sets.

From a technical standpoint, Son of Frankenstein reflects the work of highly skilled craftsmen. Jack Otterson's brilliant, warped sets enhance the film's feeling of dread. His set design, combined with director Lee's bold use of light and shadows, pre-dates some of the techniques popularized in later film noirs. Although Otterson didn't receive an Oscar nomination for Son of Frankenstein, he was nominated--every year--from 1937 to 1943. Likewise, composer Frank Skinner was ignored for his memorable score, but was also nominated five times from 1939 to 1944. His Son of Frankenstein score was popular enough to be recycled in numerous other Universal films.

If I haven't convinced you yet of the virtues of Son of Frankenstein, let me leave you with this assessment from Universal Horrors: "Grandiose in scope, magnificent in design, it supplanted the quaint romanticism and delicate fantasy flavoring of Bride of Frankenstein with a stark, grimly expressionistic approach to horror." Well said.

"Z" for Zorro--Tyrone Power's 1940 Version

Tyrone Power in full Zorro guise.

For me, Errol Flynn dominated the swashbuckler genre from his appearance in Captain Blood (1935) through Against All Flags (1952). However, I freely admit that I can't envision him as the lead in one of the best swashbuckler pictures of that period. Simply put, The Mark of Zorro is not a Flynn vehicle--but it fits Tyrone Power like a glove...or rather, a black mask with holes for the eyes.

There may be some of you that argue The Mark of Zorro isn't really a swashbuckler film at all. You would be wrong, of course. The setting may be Los Angeles in the early 19th century, but the plot and sword fights are straight out of Sherwood Forest with perhaps a dash of The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Power plays Diego de Vega, a Spanish officer-in-training known for his prowess with a sword and his cocky attitude (due to his American upbringing, his nickname is the California Cockerel). When Diego's father suddenly calls him back to California, the dispirited young man tells his friends: "Think of me in the land of gentle missions, happy peons, sleepy caballeros, and everlasting boredom."

Diego playing the aristocratic dandy.

Of course, shortly after his arrival back home, Diego learns that things have changed for the worse. A greedy buffoon has replaced his father as alcalde (i.e., magistrate), the cruel Captain Pasquale mistreats the villagers, and taxes are high and going higher. Assessing the situation quickly, Diego decides to play the role of an aristocratic fop more interested in fabrics, scents, and lotions than politics. His deceit not only fools the alcalde and Pasquale, but also Diego's parents. Meanwhile, the young Spaniard dons a black mask and takes up the people's cause as the defiant Zorro--who steals from the rich and distributes the gold to the villagers through the local padre (Eugene Pallette).

No, Eugene Pallette is not playing Friar Tuck!

Although based on Johnston McCulley's serialized 1919 novel The Curse of Capistrano, The Mark of Zorro is highly derivative. The premise of a bold hero disguised as a fop has appeared in numerous literary works, most notably Baroness Orczy's The Scarlet Pimpernel. Not only is the plot lifted from the Robin Hood legend, but whole scenes are strongly reminiscent of The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), such as robbing the coach, appearing on his love's balcony, and the climatic sword duel with--yes--Basil Rathbone. I would also be remiss to not mention Douglas Fairbanks' splendid 1920 silent Mark of Zorro, which undoubtedly provided the impetus for this remake.

Power and Rathbone cross swords.

Yet, while The Mark of Zorro lacks originality, it is executed with flair (underlined by Alfred Newman's rousing Oscar-nominated music score). I disagree with Leslie Halliwell, one of my favorite film critics, who wrote in Halliwell's Harvest that Diego is "unsatisfactorily played by a chubby young Tyrone Power, who simply can't manage, without unseemly grimaces, the elements of self-mockery which came so easily to Errol Flynn." I think Power is well-cast as both the effeminate Diego and the robust Zorro. He certainly handles a sword well, with the big showdown opposite Rathbone (a fine fencer in real life) ranking as the film's highlight.

Linda Darnell dressed in black and white.

The rest of the cast lends solid support, except for the lovely Linda Darnell. Granted, her role is barely developed as the film's heroine (in contrast to Merle Oberon's prominent role in the 1934 Scarlet Pimpernel). My chief complaint is that her line readings simply sound too contemporary. Perhaps, it was just a young actress still learning her craft--this was easily her biggest part to date.

Michael Curtiz might have directed a more lively film, but Rouben Mamoulian adds his own distinctive touches. His use of deep black contrasted against white is highly effective, especially when Zorro makes his first appearance--dressed head to foot in black aboard his black stallion as he rides swiftly through a sleepy village filled with drab off-white colors. (I have no idea why Fox bothered to colorize the film for one of its DVD releases, thereby ruining Mamoulian's photography.)

The success of The Mark of Zorro led to other action hero roles for Power (e.g., Captain from Castille, Prince of Foxes, The Black Rose). Zorro continued to be a popular character and has been played by: Guy Williams (in a Walt Disney TV series); Frank Langella (in a made-for-TV movie); George Hamilton (in a spoof); Antonio Banderas; and others.

A Heaping Helping of Sherlock Holmes

TCM kicks off a Christmas Day 2009 Sherlock Holmes marathon at 8:00 pm EST--on the same day that Sherlock Holmes, starring Robert Downey Jr. as the famous detective, debuts in theaters nationwide. To prepare for this outbreak of Sherlockian sleuthing, you may want to check out my earlier post Universal's Sherlock Holmes Series with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce--A Top to Bottom Review.

Finally, every Holmes fan has a favorite film interpretator of the 221B Baker Street master detective. I've love to hear if you're a Rathbone afficionado, favor some of the one-time portrayers (e.g., Christopher Plummer in Murder By Decree), or go for a lesser-known one like John Nelville in the cult fave A Study in Terror. By the way, I like all of the movies just mentioned. But my two favorites are:

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959)

Throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s, I tried in vain in see the Basil Rathbone version of The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939). Every time it was listed in the newspaper, I’d tune in eagerly—only to see Hammer Films’ 1959 version starring Peter Cushing. I later learned that copyright issues prevented the Rathbone film from airing for many years. When it finally popped up on TV (on The CBS Late Movie, of all places), I was somewhat disappointed. Though Basil was entertaining as always, his Hound was surprisingly inferior to the 1959 version. Indeed, the Hammer Hound has improved with age, like a fine wine or, more appropriately, a glass of sherry (the vicar in the film has a fondness for it).

The opening scene is a spirited retelling of the legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles, with David Oxley shining as the utterly despicable Sir Hugo Baskerville. After the hound disposes of Sir Hugo, we learn that Dr. Mortimer is telling the tale to Holmes and Watson at 221B Baker Street. It's a shrewd way to introduce the backstory and inject some action in what it is basically a low-key mystery.

The rest of the plot follows Conan Doyle’s novel fairly faithfully. Indeed, the minor variations in the adaptation make the story more interesting. The climax is a bit disappointing. The vicious hound, when finally glimpsed, turns out to be a Great Dane with a leather mask on its head. When it attacks one of the villains, you can see the actor grab the dog as it starts to run by him.

Still, The Hound of the Baskervilles is a highly enjoyable affair. Peter Cushing makes a superb Holmes, all nervous energy as if his brain can barely contain his superior intellect. His interpretation is every bit as good as Basil Rathbone’s more acclaimed one. Andre Morrell plays Dr. Watson straight, instead of providing comic relief (as Nigel Bruce, whom I still love, did in the Rathbone films). His Watson is intelligent, affable, and observant—very much like the character in Conan Doyle’s novels and stories.

Director Terence Fisher was on a roll, having previously helmed Hammer’s Dracula (1958) and Curse of Frankenstein (1957). As he did in those films, Fisher brings a colorful atmosphere and brisk pacing to the Holmes mystery. He also carefully masks the film’s modest budget. Listen closely and you can hear James Bernard’s music from Dracula being recycled. Also, the night scenes look very much like twilight or late afternoon (of course, even Hitchcock had trouble making night scenes look dark enough in color).

Ironically, Christopher Lee (who played Sir Henry Baskerville) would take his turn as the Great Detective in the mediocre German film Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace (1962). Cushing played Holmes again in a short-lived British TV series. Sadly, Hammer could never secure the rights to make additional Holmes films with Cushing and Morrell. (TCM will show it Dec 26, 2:45 am EST.)

The Scarlet Claw (1944)

Basil Rathbone spent much of his acting career stereotyped as a dastardly villain in films such Captain Blood, The Adventures of Robin Hood, and The Mark of Zorro. He played those parts so often that he spoofed himself—delightfully—in The Court Jester. Nigel Bruce fared no better, being typecast as a bumbling buffoon in The Charge of the Light Brigade, Rebecca, and many others. These two supporting players unexpectedly found themselves top-billed when, in 1939, Twentieth Century-Fox cast them as Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson in The Hound of the Baskervilles.

With his sharp features and abrupt delivery, Rathbone made an ideal Holmes—his interpretation is still considered the standard by which all others are measured. Although Bruce’s Watson is nothing like the cultured physician in the detective stories, the actor remains immensely likable and provides memorable comic relief. In addition to The Hound, Rathbone and Bruce made a well-received sequel, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Then, unexpectedly, Twentieth Century-Fox decided to end its Sherlock Holmes series.

In 1942, Universal convinced Rathbone and Bruce to reprise their roles in a series of 12 Holmes pictures. These movies featured smaller budgets than the Fox films and, most significantly, they updated the action to modern day. In addition to his arch nemesis Professor Moriarty, Holmes got to battle the Nazis (Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror) and dabble in espionage (Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon). The best of the Universal series—indeed one of the best of all Holmes films—is The Scarlet Claw.

All but the opening scene takes place in La Morte Rouge, a small Canadian village surrounded by marshes and enshrouded in fog. Holmes and Watson go there in response to a letter from a dead woman (well, she wrote it while she was alive). The detective duo soon discover a trail of corpses and a glowing phantom that runs across the marshes at night. Oh, yes, and the murderer turns out to be a master of disguises, too.

There is much to like in The Scarlet Claw. Although never shown, the murders are appropriately grisly. In one scene, Holmes displays the five-pronged garden tool used to rip open the victims’ throats. The “ghastly apparition” on the marshes hints of a supernatural explanation. The settings, particularly the murderer’s riverside house, are impressive for a backlot film. And, above all, director/co-writer Roy William Neill compresses the mystery into a well-paced, compact 74 minutes. Like all the Holmes films produced during World War II, The Scarlet Claw ends with a patriotic wartime ode, this one a tribute to Canada.

The other Holmes films in the Universal series pale in comparison to The Scarlet Claw. Still, several of them are enjoyable little mysteries, in particular Sherlock Holmes Faces Death, House of Fear, and The Pearl of Death. (TCM will show it Dec 26, 12:15 pm EST.)

Universal's Sherlock Holmes Series with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce--A Top to Bottom Review

Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce made their debuts as Holmes and Watson in two 1939 films produced by 20th Century-Fox, The Hound of the Baskervilles and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Set in Victorian times, these classy mysteries featured high-end production values befitting of literature’s most famous sleuth. Alas, Fox chose not to pursue a series and that opened the door for Universal, which approached Rathbone with a novel concept: Why not update Holmes to present-day and pit him against modern villains?

From 1942 through 1946, Universal produced the 12 “modern day” Sherlock Holmes films. These were “B” films with running times under 70 minutes. Director Roy William Neill, who specialized in getting the most out of his small budgets, helmed all the films except the first (Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror). Mary Gordon appeared as the 221B Baker Street housekeeper Mrs. Hudson in most of the entries and Dennis Hoey made several appearances as a fairly inept version of Inspector Lestrade. Here are my ranking of all 12 series entries from best to worst.

1. The Scarlet Claw (1944) – One of the best of all Sherlock Holmes films, this smart little mystery finds Holmes and Watson chasing a “phantom” over the marshes of Canada. The murderer, a former thespian, is a master of disguises—which sets the stage for several tense sequences. Bruce adds just the right amount of humor in this one and Neill keeps the atmospheric proceedings moving at a snappy pace. This is easily my favorite Rathbone Holmes film, to include the more expensive Fox pictures.

2. Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943) – Arthur Conan Doyle’s story “The Musgrave Ritual” serves as the inspiration for this clever entry that finds Watson working at a country mansion being used as a convalescent home for soldiers. There are ancestral rituals, would-be ghosts, and—of course—murder. Best of all, there’s a giant chessboard on the floor that provides the key to the mystery. Milburn Stone (Doc on Gunsmoke) co-stars; look quickly for a young Peter Lawford.

3. The Pearl of Death (1944) – This entertaining adaptation of Conan Doyle’s “The Six Napoleons” features Rondo Hatton as the series’ most distinctive villain: The Oxton Creeper, who kills his victims by breaking their backs at the third vertebrae. Actually, the Creeper is a supporting player as Holmes and Watson investigate the theft of the Borgia Pearl. But Hatton does make a pretty scary killer and director Neill creates a chilling atmosphere.

4. House of Fear (1945) – At the Drearcliff estate in western Scotland, seven middle-aged men have formed a club called “The Good Comrades.” With no next of kin, each club member agrees to make his fellow members his beneficiaries in case of death…then two of them die after each receives an envelope with five orange seeds. The resolution may be a little disappointing, but this compact adaptation of Conan Doyles’s “The Adventures of the Five Orange Pips” is a bit of a pip itself.

5. The Spider Woman (1944) – The always reliable Gale Sondergaard elevates this entry as the sinister villainess behind the “pajama suicides.” Her verbal sparring with Rathbone accounts for several delightful scenes. It’s too bad she didn’t return for an encore (although she did star in The Spider Woman Strikes Back, as a different character in a non-Holmes film).

6. Terror By Night (1946) – A young man and his mother hire Holmes to accompany them on a train to Edinburgh and protect the Star of Rhodesia diamond. The villain turns out to be Colonel Sebastian Moran, whom Holmes describes as Professor Moriarty’s “most sinister, ruthless, and diabolically clever henchman.” It’s a solid entry, buoyed by the train setting and Watson’s chance to play the hero for once.

7. Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (1943) – Professor Moriarty makes his first appearance in the series in the guise of Lionel Atwill. Unfortunately, he’s not in much of the film. As a result, the film’s entertainment value rests mostly on Rathbone’s enjoyable disguises and an overly-complex cipher (the only part retained from the short story "The Adventure of the Dancing Men").

8. The Woman in Green (1945) – With Henry Daniell as über-villain Moriarity, this should have been an instant classic. Instead, it’s only a sporadically interesting yarn about a surprisingly grisly blackmail scheme that involves the murder and mutilation of random young women.

9. Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror (1942) – Holmes battles the Nazis in the first of the Universal series. It’s an interesting premise: A Nazi radio broadcast predicts disasters—such as a train derailment—which then take place. Unfortunately, the film’s execution is pedestrian and its propaganda overdone. This film, like the others shot during World War II, ends with a stirring Rathbone speech about freedom and the defeat of evil.

10. Sherlock Holmes in Washington (1943) – Holmes and Watson journey to the States to retrieve a valuable document stolen by enemy spies. Fortunately, this is the last film to pit Holmes against the Nazis. It’s a rather ho-hum affair, except for George Zucco as Holmes’s nemesis. Zucco portrayed Moriarity memorably in Fox’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

11. Dressed to Kill (1946) – The theft of an inexpensive music box intrigues Holmes enough to pursue a case that leads to a planned crime of far greater proportions. Except for Patricia Morison as the villain, there’s not much to recommend in this stale entry. It was Rathbone’s last appearance as Holmes on the big screen.

12. Pursuit to Algiers – Holmes and Watson accept the mission to protect a young royal heir who is returning from London to his (fictional) home of Rovenia. Most of the action takes place aboard a stagey ocean liner filled with supposedly mysterious suspects. There’s an obvious twist, which is sadly the best thing about this soggy tale.

If you're in the mood to read more about Mr. Holmes and Dr. Waton in the movies and on television, check out ClassicBecky's post Elementary, My Dear Fans. Just go to the index at the bottom right of the Cafe's main page and click on sherlock holmes.