The All-American and Yankee Pasha

Publicity still with Mamie Van Doren & Tony Curtis.

All American (1953). Tony Curtis headlines as Nick Bonelli, a star quarterback who transfers to a different university to pursue his interest in architecture after his parents die in a car crash. He faces various challenges and conflicts at his new school, both academically and romantically, and eventually decides to play football again--much to the delight of his new school. All American (aka The Winning Way) is a typical 1950s sports drama, with a predictable plot and stereotypical characters. That doesn't mean it's not an entertaining way to spend 83 minutes. It was clearly intended to provide acting experience for its young cast. Although Tony Curtis is the only one that became a big star, his fellow players include such familiar faces as Lori Nelson (Revenge of the Creature), Mamie Van Doren, Stuart Whitman, and Richard Long (who comes as close to playing an unlikable character as he ever did). Van Doren fares best as a bar waitress who is secretly involved with rich college student Long. It's nice to see her in an appealing role, as opposed to the sexpot types she later played (she also appeared with Tony Curtis in the earlier Forbidden). Sports fans may also spot cameos from real-life football stars Frank Gifford, Tom Harmon (Marks' father), and Jim Sears.

Yankee Pasha (1954). Set in New England in 1800, Yankee Pasha stars Jeff Chandler as Jason Starbuck, a fur trapper who falls in love with the beautiful Roxana (Rhonda Fleming). When Roxana sails to France to escape an unwanted marriage to another man, her ship is captured by pirates and she is sold as a slave in Morocco. Jason follows her across the ocean and infiltrates the royal palace, where he becomes a valued advisor to the sultan--all the while plotting to rescue Roxana. Based on Edison Marshall's 1947 novel, Yankee Pasha is a colorful, if modestly budgeted, adventure with a dash of humor. Chandler and Fleming are agreeable, photogenic leads who let their supporting stars deliver all the good lines. Lee J. Cobb seems to be having fun as the sultan, while Mamie Van Doren shows off her comedic skills as the only member of Starbuck's harem. The film's first two-thirds zip along nicely, but then it inexplicitly lumbers to its conclusion with a conventional, boring rescue. By then, though, Yankee Pasha has built enough goodwill so that you'll overlook its ending and remember it fondly. (You can watch Yankee Pasha for free on the Western Film Classics channel by clicking here.)

Of Vampire Bats and Manitous!

Nick Mancuso as the hero.

The late 1970s saw the release of two horror films based on popular novels that featured Native American protagonists: The Manitou (1978) and Nightwing (1979).

The latter movie stars Nick Mancuso as Youngman Duran, the only law enforcement officer on a tribal reservation in New Mexico. Duran is coping with a lot of stuff: his physician girlfriend is pondering a move to Texas; a energy company has acquired oil rights from a neighboring tribe; an old medicine man, who raised Duran, is dying; and something is draining the blood from cattle--and eventually tourists.

David Warner hunts bats.

Enter British scientist Phillip Payne (David Warner), who announces grimly that the bloodless victims were attacked by vampire bats. Payne has dedicated his life to tracking and killing the night-bound creatures. He now believes they are living in the local mountain caves and--brace yourself for more bad news--are carrying the bubonic plague!

Nightwing is a film filled with unrealized potential. Its strongest element is its desert setting, which typically works well in the horror genre (see Gargoyles). However, Arthur Hiller, a director best known for romances and comedies, can't capitalize on the visual splendor of the dark dunes and the isolated mountains.

Deputy Duran could have been an interesting character, but Mancuso, saddled with a lackluster script, comes across as angst-ridden and befuddled. The screenplay also tosses in heaping helpings of mysticism in the hope of making some kind of profound statement about the destruction of the environment.

David Warner lends some gravitas to Nightwing in spite of portraying an under-developed character. Sadly, the movie wastes the talents of the legendary character actor Strother Martin. He appears briefly as a supply store owner, then vanishes from the movie. That just isn't right.

Susan Strasberg as Karen.

The Manitou may be no better than Nightwing, but it sure is more fun. Susan Strasberg stars as Karen Tandy, a woman who seeks medical help when a large lump starts growing on the back of her neck. After examining her X-rays, her perplexed surgeon comments that the growth looks like a fetus! 

He's right. It turns out to be the fetus of a "manitou"...the spirit of an ancient, evil, dwarf-sized medicine man. Once Karen gives birth, she will die and the manitou will grow in power until it can destroy the human race. Karen's on-and-off-again lover Harry (Tony Curtis), a fake medium, eventually learns what's happening. He journeys to South Dakota to find a contemporary medicine man, John Singing Rock (Michael Ansara), to battle the formidable manitou. 

Tony Curtis as Harry.

The premise of The Manitou might have worked in Graham Masterton's novel. But seeing it on the big  screen is something else and I suspect most of the cast recognized that when they read the screenplay. Tony Curtis can't keep a straight face and the same applies to a trio of screen veterans featured in brief parts: Ann Sothern, Burgess Meredith, and Stella Stevens (who appears to stifle a laugh after a séance scene). However, to their credit, the cast goes with the flow and somehow keeps The Manitou from transforming into a parody--despite having to speak mystical chants like "pana witchy salatoo" or coming face-to-face with the little manitou guy in a dark hospital room.

It helps that director William Girdler had previous experience in the horror genre, having helmed Abby (1974), Grizzly (1976), and the wacky The Day of the Animals (1977). He knows that showing less is better and keeps the blood-soaked manitou bathed in shadows after its birth. The climax, set in a hospital on emergency power as a thunderstorm rages in the background, works well in spite of the cheap special effects. Sadly, Girdler died in a helicopter crash shortly after he completed The Manitou.

You can watch The Manitou and Nightwing for free! Click here to watch Nightwing on the Creatures Features channel on Rumble (a YouTube-like streaming service). Click here to watch The Manitou on the Internet Archive. 

Tony Curtis as The Great Impostor

Young Ferdinand Demara, Jr. isn't one to take "no" for an answer, even after well-intentioned Father Devlin (Karl Malden) explains that sometimes you just have to accept your limitations.

Years later, Demara  (Tony Curtis) encounters a major career obstacle when his application for Officer Candidate School is rejected by the Army because he lacks a high school diploma. After mulling over the situation, he forges college transcripts and is accepted as an officer by the Marines. That plan goes quickly awry, though, when he learns he must undergo a security check by the F.B.I.

Tony Curtis and Raymond Massey.

Demara promptly fakes his suicide and embarks on a career of creating false identities. He spends time as a Trappist monk, a deputy prison warden, a military ship's physician, and a teacher. His ability to learn quickly serves him well--especially when performing surgical operations after reading a few pages of Gray's Anatomy! Not all goes according to plan since he's captured by the Army and spends 18 months in prison. But he even turns that into a positive and later becomes a leader for prison reform in a maximum security facility.

Incredibly, The Great Impostor is based on the life the Ferdinand Waldo Demara, Jr. While some of the film is fictitious, the real Demara did pose as a monk, assistant prison warden, naval surgeon, and teacher. His life was the subject of the biography The Great Impostor, written by Robert Crichton.

Tony Curtis with Sue Ane Langdon.

If you're looking for insight into Demara's extraordinary life, you won't find it in The Great Impostor. The lead character's rationale is he's doing these fantastic things because he can--and because the thrill of potential capture is exciting. It doesn't help that the film has been shaped as a breezy Tony Curtis vehicle for the most part. One almost expects a cheerful Curtis to break the fourth wall and start talking to the audience long before he smiles at us in the final shot.

There are couple of serious segments, such as when Demara tries to reach a hardened convict and later performs emergency surgeries on 18 Korean combat casualties. In these scenes, it becomes apparent that Demara wants to do good--even if his actions put innocent people at life-threatening risks. (Imagine being operated on by a man with no medical experience whatsoever!)

Tony Curtis's fans are sure to enjoy The Great Impostor. Coming off the most impressive stretch of his career (1957-60), the actor seems to be having fun and lays on the charm. He is surrounded by a bunch of veteran actors (Edmond O'Brien, Raymond Massey, Arthur O'Connell) and attractive co-stars (Joan Blackman and Sue Ane Langdon, who steals all her scenes). However, in the end, it's just a shame that Tony didn't get the opportunity to play Demara in a more serious film, something along the lines of Steven Spielberg's more compelling Catch Me If You Can (2002).

Richard Chamberlain as The Count of Monte-Cristo

Chamberlain as Edmond Dantes.

Between his TV heartthrob status as Dr. Kildare and his reign as "King of the Miniseries," Richard Chamberlain sought to expand his acting versatility. He appeared in Shakespeare plays, worked with unconventional director Ken Russell, and played a different sort of Prince Charming in a musical version of Cinderella. He also starred in four movies based on the works of Alexandre Dumas: The Three Musketeers, The Four Musketeers, The Man in the Iron Mask, and The Count of Monte-Cristo.

The last of that quartet was produced for British television and broadcast in the U.S. by NBC in 1975. Chamberlain plays newly promoted Captain Edmond Dantes, whose success in business and love incurs the jealousy of three shipmates. They frame him as one of Napoleon's spies by forging a letter. It's a weak charge, but the prosecutor has a secret he must hide at all costs: his father is a Napoleon loyalist and traitor. So, the prosecutor banishes Edmond to an island prison, where he is forgotten.

Yes, that's Trevor Howard.

After ten years of loneliness, Edmond becomes acquainted with the Abbe Faria (Trevor Howard), a fellow prisoner who has been digging a tunnel to freedom. The Abbe becomes a father figure to Edmond, teaching him about the arts and sharing a map to an alleged long-lost treasure on the island of Monte-Cristo. The Abbe also helps Edmond deduce the identities of the four men responsible for ruining his life.

Although the Abbe dies, Edmond manages to escape from his castle of captivity. His heart, though, is filled with vengeance and he dedicates his life to destroying each of the men that wronged him.

Dumas was a masterful storyteller and The Count of Monte-Cristo is an absorbing tale from start to finish. Chamberlain makes an effective transformation from a naive young man to a bitter, angry one who has aged well beyond his years. His best scenes are those with Trevor Howard as the Abbe in the prison. It was no surprise to learn that Chamberlain and Howard each earned Emmy nominations for their performances.

Nelligan pleads for her son's life.

Louis Jourdan, Kate Nelligan, and Donald Pleasance are convincing in supporting roles. The same can't be said for Tony Curtis, who walks through his villainous part with little conviction. His climatic sword fight with Chamberlain is a snooze thanks to a very obvious body double (though Richard seems to be doing his own dueling). Tyrone Power's daughter Taryn makes her English-language debut in a small part. I remember her best from Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger, which was released two years later.

Sidney Carroll, who co-wrote The Hustler back in 1961, does an admirable job of condensing Dumas' packed plot into a 103-minute movie. A couple of major subplots are jettisoned, but the end results are the same and the streamlined movie undoubtedly moves at a quicker pace. My only beef is that I wanted to know the fate of the likable smugglers who pulled a weary Dantes from the sea after his prison escape.

Three years after The Count of Monte-Cristo, Chamberlain made Centennial, the first of three blockbuster miniseries that would secure his fame in TV history. He followed it with Shogun in 1980 and The Thorn Birds in 1983.

Billy Wilder's Game of Deception...and the Wonderment of Jack Lemmon

Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon.

It can be a challenge to review a classic like Billy Wilder's Some Like It Hot, because so much has been written about it. So, instead of a traditional review, I want to focus on Wilder's theme of deception and also pay tribute to that marvelous actor known as Jack Lemmon.

For those who have never seen Some Like It Hot (and you should truly rectify that immediately), here's a plot synopsis. Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon play Joe and Jerry, a couple of speakeasy musicians in Chicago in 1929. After losing their jobs when police raid the joint, they struggle to find employment. They become so desperate that Jerry suggests they pose as women for an available gig in sunny Florida with an all-girls band. When Joe and Jerry inadvertently witness a gangland killing, they need to go on the lam--and what better place than Florida disguised as women in an all-girls band?

Marilyn Monroe as Sugar.

The theme of deception is a favorite for Billy Wilder, who used it for comic effect earlier in The Major and the Minor. That 1942 comedy starred Ginger Rogers as a young woman who poses as a 12-year-old to save on train fare. With Some Like It Hot, Wilder ups the ante by adding several layers of deception. The most obvious one, of course, is Joe and Jerry posing as female musicians Josephine and Daphne. But Wilder delves deeper into deception when Joe decides to woo Sugar (Marilyn Monroe), the band's attractive blonde singer.

Junior explains the Shell Oil name.

Joe, in the guise of Josephine, befriends Sugar and learns about her perfect man: a gentle, sweet, helpless millionaire with a yacht or train who wears glasses ("they get those weak eyes from reading those long tiny little columns in The Wall Street Journal").  Possessing that knowledge, Joe transforms himself into Junior, the sensitive, glasses-wearing, Wall Street Journal-reading heir to the Shell Oil fortune. It's no wonder that Sugar falls for him immediately.

Of course, Sugar isn't above a few lies herself. When she first meets Junior, she implies that she comes from a wealthy family and even introduces Daphne as a "Vassar girl." Earlier in the film, we also learn that Sugar deceives the band's manager by swearing off her fondness for alcoholic beverages--while keeping a handy flask hidden under her garter belt.

It's no plot spoiler to reveal that, even after the truth comes out, Joe and Sugar wind up together. Still, one has to wonder about the success of a relationship built on deception. Fortunately, this is reel life--not real life--and so a likable cast and a well-written script make us forget about the realities of the situation (just as we do at the end of The Graduate).

Daphne dancing with Osgood.

Reality has nothing to do with the other romantic relationship in Some Like It Hot: Daphne's wooing by a real millionaire named Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown). After a night of dancing, Osgood proposes marriage and Daphne, or rather Jerry, actually considers it because Osgood is a nice guy and provides security. When Joe tries to point out the obvious challenges, Jerry replies: "I'm not stupid. I know there's a problem. His mother. We need her approval. But I'm not worried, because I don't smoke."

Jack Lemmon gives a tour-de-force performance as Jerry/Daphne, transforming from a man who sees women as sex objects to one who can see them as friends. Joe's first remark when he sees Sugar is: "That's just like jello on springs." But later when a man pinches him as Daphne, he's not amused. His growing friendship with Sugar, even though it's in the guise of Daphne, is probably the strongest relationship in the film.

Daphne on the train.

Lemmon has the best scenes in the movie, including my personal favorite. After he covers up for Sugar's drinking on the train ride to Florida, she joins Jerry (as Daphne) in his upper berth. The scantily-clad Sugar snuggles up close to him and, upon discovering his cold feet, begins to rubs them with her feet. Jerry turns away briefly and mutters a reminder to himself: "I'm a girl. I'm a girl."

It's a great line, a classic Wilder situation, and features one of the finest actors of his generation. Who could ask for more?

Ivanhoe and The Black Shield of Falworth: A '50s Swashbuckler Double-feature

Ivanhoe (1952)

Robert Taylor as Ivanhoe.

MGM mounted this colorful adaptation of Sir Walter Scott's tale of a noble Saxon knight trying to restore the throne of England to King Richard, who has been kidnapped by his brother Prince John. This popular, trendsetting film earned a Best Picture nomination and fueled other 1950s medieval actions films. The impressive action scenes include a thrilling jousting tournament, a large-scale assault on a castle, and a brutal climatic duel in which Robert Taylor and George Sanders whale on each other with axe and mace, respectively.

Elizabeth Taylor and George Sanders.

But what separates Ivanhoe from its peers is its low-key realism: Ivanhoe may be a nobleman, but he can't read; Ivanhoe's father is a kindly lord, but his servants still wear metal collars; and Elizabeth Taylor's Rebecca is shunned by Saxons and Normans alike because she is a Jew. The cast is in fine form, except for Joan  Fontaine--she brings no fire to her character, leaving one to wonder why Ivanhoe prefers her over the intelligent, gorgeous Rebecca.

Elizabeth Taylor as Rebecca.

Sanders provides surprising depth to his villain, whose lust--and eventual love--for Rebecca causes him much internal conflict. Emlyn Williams, who gives a delightful performance as a servant-turned-knight's squire, was also a successful playwright with stage hits such as Night Must Fall.  Robert Taylor and director Richard Thorpe teamed up for two other 1950s costume dramas, Knights of the Round Table (1953) and Quentin Durward (1955), also based on a Scott novel. The latter is the more entertaining of the two and features a nifty swordfight with the opponents swinging on ropes in a burning bell tower. Anthony Andrews played Ivanhoe in an above-average 1982 made-for-TV movie.

The Black Shield of Falworth (1954)

Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.

This modestly-budgeted, by-the-numbers swashbuckler was clearly intended as a training ground for rising stars Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh (appearing in the second of their six films together). The radiant Leigh, draped in stunning gowns, is clearly more at home than Curtis. He struts around in tights like he was getting ready for a Brooklyn rumble. Still, he gets ample opportunity to display his athletic prowess and, considering that the film's hero is a hothead, his vigorous performance ultimately gets a passing grade.

Torin Thatcher and Curtis.

Set in England during the reign of Henry IV, the plot follows Myles (Curtis) and Meg (Barbara Rush), two peasant orphans who don't know that their noble father was unjustly branded a traitor. The local vicar sends them to live in the castle of the Earl of Mackworth, with Meg to attend the earl's daughter Lady Anne (Leigh) and Curtis to be trained as a squire. Once Mackworth realizes Myle's true identity, he hatches a plot to use him to defeat the evil Earl of Alban--who is plotting to overthrow the king and also happens to have been responsible for the death of Myle's father.

David Farrar (right) as the villain.

The Black Shield of Falworth gets a huge boost from an outstanding supporting cast:  Herbert Marshall as the fatherly Mackworth; Dan O'Herlihy as Prince Hal, who plays the fool to deceive the bad guys; David Farrar as the villainous Alban (decked out in black from head to toe); and Torin Thatcher as the eye-patched, staff-wielding taskmaster that transforms Myles into a valiant warrior.  One wishes that these fine performers received more screen time, but their presence is reason enough to spend 99 minutes with The Black Shield of Falworth. Plus, at the risk of sounding shallow, the two leads are easy on the eyes.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Kirk and Tony Fight Over Janet in "The Vikings"

Two years before they appeared in Spartacus, Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis teamed for this colorful 1958 costume epic about the Norsemen.

Kirk stars as Einor, son of Viking leader Ernest Borgnine, who leads continuous raids against the bickering British nobles. Tony, as a slave whose secret past is quickly revealed, plays Kirk’s despised enemy. He and Kirk spend much of the film vying for the affections of the lovely kidnapped Princess Morgana (Janet Leigh).

Certainly, The Vikings lacks the emotional depth of the superior Spartacus. One problem is that it’s hard to like the Vikings—they’re portrayed, probably accurately, as chauvinist pigs devoted to plundering and drinking ale. Still, there’s an underlying sense of honor to the proceedings and the action scenes are superbly staged. The violence, though, must have been considered shocking in the late 1950s--especially when a hawk attacks Kirk and when Tony is brutally punished for helping an enemy. By the way, in the scene in which the Vikings ran across the tops of their ship’s oars, Kirk Douglas refused to use a double...and fared better than the stunt men.

In terms of craftsmanship, The Vikings is first-rate in all departments. Famed cinematographer Jack Cardiff (Black Narcissus) lensed the Norwegian locales in brilliant color. Italian film composer Mario Nascimbene's score, especially the “welcome home” call on a Viking horn, may stick in your head for several days.

Director Richard Fleischer teamed with Kirk four years earlier in Disney's lavish 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Fleischer would work with Curtis again in 1968's The Boston Strangler.

Tony and Janet, who were married when they made The Vikings, also co-starred in The Perfect Furlough that same year. The couple appeared in five films together: the two already mentioned, plus Houdini (1953), The Black Shield of Falworth (1954), and Who Was That Lady? (with Dean Martin).

 No, it's not a Ricola commercial. A Viking plays
a catchy tune to signal the arrival of ships.