THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON: Blu-ray (Universal 1954) Universal Home Video

The last truly great monster to establish its enduring iconography is undeniably Jack Arnold’s The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). Introduced at a time when Universal was once again lagging behind other studios in profits, its commitment to the horror genre all but established and made famous by Universal, signified both a new beginning and a sad last act to Universal’s own profitable cycle in horror. In hindsight The Creature from the Black Lagoon inaugurated the age of the atomic monster; preying upon America’s paranoia over the threat of a nuclear winter. The studio’s faith in the project was so firm that even before the film was released its sequel was already in the works.

The screenplay by Harry Essex and Arthur A. Ross begins with a geology expedition in the Amazon led by Dr. Carl Maia (Antonio Moreno) and funded by Dr. Mark Williams (Richard Denning). Scientist Dr. Edwin Thompson (Whit Bissell), Dr. David Reed (Richard Carlson), an ichthyologist working for an undisclosed marine biology institute, and Reed’s girlfriend, Kay Lawrence (Julia Adams) have also come along. Aboard a steamer captained by crusty but benign codger, Lucas (Nestor Paiva) the crew arrives at a previously established base camp only to discover that all of the inhabitants have been brutally slaughtered.

Lucas suggests a wild animal attack as the probable cause, but actually the murderous assault has been perpetuated by a piscine amphibious humanoid (a gill man played to perfection by Ricou Browning). The doctors and Kay make journey to the Black Lagoon in search of their scientific discovery, unaware that they are being pursued by the creature who has developed a strangely sexual fascination with Kay, suggestively swimming underneath her without her knowledge. The gill man is captured but escapes after attacking Edwin, who is narrowly spared when Kay charges the creature with a lantern.

Lucas suggests that they leave the lagoon post haste, but as he prepares to turn his ship around he discovers that the creature has barricaded the waterway with heavy logs in an attempt to keep them on his turf. As the crew clear away this debris Mark is mauled by the creature who abducts Kay. David, Carl and Lucas follow the creature’s tracks to its boggy lair, riddling the gill man with bullets and rescuing Kay. The creature sinks beneath the murky waters, presumably dead.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon is marvelously spooky. William E. Snyder’s evocative and unsettling cinematography makes the most of the obvious back lot sets. In a nonverbal performance, severely restricted by his rubber prosthetics, Ricou Browning manages to imbue the creature with a fascinating sense of cryptic pathos while remaining sinister and menacing. Personally, I’ve always preferred the sequel more than the original and hope that someday Universal will see fit to release Revenge of the Creature in hi-def too.

For its time, the underwater cinematography was cutting edge. It looks a little dated today but not in any way that would damage one’s overall appreciation for the story. I am often inundated with complaints from friends about what they have mis-perceived as gross clichés when viewing classics in the horror genre. The Creature From The Black Lagoon arguably does not live up to one’s expectations for a good scare – but only if one chooses to regard the film from our present cultural disadvantage of having seen just about every ‘gross out’ schlock and nonsense peddled as movie art in between. The point of the exercise, still lost on a good many individuals it seems, is not to make any direct comparison between movies made today and those made more than fifty years ago, but rather to be teleported back to a moment from the past when such oddities as The Creature From the Black Lagoon seemed not only fascinatingly perverse but highly enjoyable for their movie artistry and overall panache.  

Personally, I don’t go to the movies for realism. If I want realism I can part the curtains of my front window and look outside. That’s reality! No, for me movies are an escape into fantasy and ones such as The Creature from The Black Lagoon are a rarity in today’s movie culture. What can I say? I regard the art of classic movie-making with more respect than disdain. Today there are templates for virtually every director to crib from. But The Creature from The Black Lagoon was made at a time when no blueprint for its creation existed. That the movie and the creature have both endured this long to be readily resurrected with fond affection in reviews such as this is proof enough that the movie holds up well beyond what some might consider its hokey attributes.  

Universal gives us both 2D and 3D versions of The Creature from The Black Lagoon on a single Blu-ray. This is the same disc that was part of the studio’s Classic Monsters box set released last October. The 2D version is quite good; properly framed in 1:78.1 B&W and looking very clean and solid throughout. The image is sharp with fine detail and contrast well represented but without any obvious digital manipulations apparent. Grain also looks quite natural. Now, for the hiccup.

The 3D version doesn’t look nearly as pristine. In fact, it may even be slightly darker and grainier on the whole. At the time I reviewed Universal’s box set I did not have a 3D display so my glowing review of the 2D edition was warranted. It still is. I’m not quite certain what happened in the 3D rendering. Creature was released primarily in 3D theatrically. It’s never seen the light of day in anything except 2D incarnations on home video until now. But I’m not at all certain this is how it is supposed to look in 3D.

The DTS mono audio is very solid on both versions. Extras are limited to an audio commentary – very comprehensive – and a fantastic featurette on the making of the film. I’m going to still recommend this disc in its 2D format – the only one I personally ever saw until last night. On the whole 3D doesn’t excite me all that much because most of the stories told in 3D are in service to that gimmick and not particularly interested in telling a good story without things readily flying into and out of the screen. The Creature from The Black Lagoon isn’t like that. It’s a good story first and a 3D movie almost as an afterthought. As such it continues to hold up even when not projected in 3D. Bottom line: recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

2D version – 4

3D version – 3

EXTRAS

2.5

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA: Blu-ray (Universal 1943) Universal Home Video

Universal went all the way back to its own antiquity and Gaston LeRoux’s celebrated tale of death stalking the Paris opera house for Arthur Lubin’s lavishly appointed The Phantom of the Opera (1943); a spectacular, even mind-boggling excursion in glorious Technicolor, but one that utterly failed in its primary objective – to thrill. The original 1925 Phantom starring Lon Chaney had been a phenomenal success for the studio. But this remake proved problematic on several levels. First, LeRoux’s classic was heavily tampered with by screenwriters Eric Taylor and Hans Jacoby in an attempt to showcase some gargantuan production numbers composed by Edward Ward, who basically took operatic masterworks in public domain and re-orchestrated them with newly written lyrics.

Universal’s decision to transform the macabre tale into a horror/musical hybrid was further encouraged after the studio had secured the talents of baritone Nelson Eddy and soprano Susannah Foster to costar as the ill-fated lovers. By this time Eddy’s popularity had cooled at MGM, particularly after the end of his pairings with their resident soprano, Jeanette MacDonald. He had sincerely hoped that The Phantom of the Opera would reestablish his imminence in the musical milieu. Although in fine voice, Eddy remained true to his own limited appeal as an actor, more wooden than dynamic and suffering from the added folly of having to play a rather foppish romantic suitor who never entirely wins the heart of this tale’s dream-like princess.

Yet, in Claude Rains’ phantom, herein renamed Erique Claudin, the film succumbed to an even more awkward miscasting that threatened to sink the entire enterprise. Rains, a superb actor somehow manages to make the least of his performance herein. He begins as a rather sympathetic soul; misguided in his ambitions to elevate an aspiring singer, Christine Dubois from the chorus. In the original draft, Erique was Christine’s father from an illegitimate affair. Barring this entanglement because of censorship, screenwriters Samuel Hoffenstein, Hans and John Jacoby and Eric Taylor simply chose to omit any references as to why this near penniless violinist should choose to live is relative squalor and spend all of his hard-earned money on the education of an unknown. Yet in this light Erique’s fascination with Christine acquired an even more bizarre patina of May/December infatuation; faintly wreaking of the lascivious and depraved.

It also didn’t help the movie any that the Production Code forbade most of the more obvious gruesomeness that had helped Chaney’s phantom achieve its carte blanche shrieks of horror over the phantom’s climactic unmasking. Regrettably, this time around the new Phantom of the Opera became a rather tame excursion, the chills taking a backseat to Alexander Golitzen’s resplendent production design. Because Universal never bothered to film its trademark glass globe with the iconic ‘Universal’ logo circling around it in Technicolor, The Phantom of the Opera opens without this memorable fanfare; a rather lackluster title card reading ‘Universal Presents’ inserted before the opening credits instead.

As scripted, Erique (Rains) is a violinist with the opera company who has lost the use of his fingers in his left hand. Unbeknownst to the management or even the benefactress of his philanthropy, Erique has spent virtually all of his money anonymously funding the musical education of Christine Dubois (Foster). To continue this patronage Erique approaches music publishers Pleyel and Desjardins with a concerto he has written.

After the passage of some time, Erique returns to inquire about his piece, but is rudely ordered from the premises by an irritated and preoccupied Pleyel (Miles Mander). Hearing his composition being played in the next room by Franz List (Fritz Leiber), Erique assumes the publishers have stolen it for their own. Enraged, Erique attacks and murders Pleyel.  His assistant, Georgette (Renee Carson) retaliates by throwing acid in Erique’s face, thus horribly disfiguring him for life. The wounded Erique takes to the sewers beneath the city and later, finds his way to the Paris opera where he steals a prop mask to conceal his hideously scorched flesh.

Obsessed with his protégée Erique promises to make her a great star. Christine is wooed by two men; baritone Anatole Garron (Nelson Eddy) and the amiable police inspector Raoul D’Aubert (Edgar Barrier). The two become quiet rivals for the chanteuse’s affections.  To secure his soft spot in Christine’s heart, the phantom decides to murder Mme. Biancarolli (Jane Farrar), the pompous diva who is standing in the way of Christine rising to the top of her profession. The heinous act sends the opera company into a panic, with Raoul setting into motion a plan of action to snuff out the phantom. Refusing to let Christine sing, Raoul has List play Erique’s concerto. The phantom murders one of Raoul’s officers and then takes to the vaulted auditorium ceiling, cutting loose its massive chandelier and causing it to plummet into the audience.

Amidst all the chaos, Erique reveals himself to Christine as her most ardent admirer. He steals her away into the bowels of the opera house. But his hideous visage frightens Christine and she screams, alerting Raoul and Anatole to their whereabouts. The phantom is confronted and destroyed. In the final moments Christine is seen pursuing another suitor, leaving Anatole and Raoul to set aside their mutual jealousies and walk away as friends.  

It is exceedingly difficult not to admire this Phantom of the Opera; for it remains an ultra-glamorous affair.  W. Howard Greene and Hal Mohr’s eye-popping and sumptuous cinematography is a visual feast for the eye.  Vera West’s costumes are quite simply gorgeous. And Edward Ward’s musical re-orchestrations truly take on the flavor of legitimate opera; virtually indistinguishable from the real thing to the untrained ear. But it’s the story that so utterly lacks in spirit and spark – this phantom relegated to skulking the sewers and back alleys, glimpsed in evaporating shadows and only momentarily made a figure – not of great tragedy – but maniacal and vial retributions inflicted on the unsuspecting and undeserving of his wrath. This phantom is not to be pitied but feared – a miscalculation from which the movie never recovers.

As the isolated figure, alone and friendless, plotting his great revenges within the bowels of the opera house, Claude Rains never goes beyond a level of cloying menace; seemingly too much the gentleman to be evil incarnate. To be sure, Rains had played bad boys before. His Alexander Sebastian in 1946’s Notorious is as disreputable as he was sly and calculating. But Rains’ phantom shares in none of these wicked attributes. He’s tyrannical, plotting and venomous – in short – wholly unlikable. The best movie villains are those we love to hate. Regrettably, Rains phantom is someone we just wish would go away. Nevertheless, there is lots to admire in this version of the time-honored tale and since Rains is all but obfuscated behind the love story, the music and a myriad of gargantuan sets and costumes, we can overlook – if hardly forgive – the movie for failing to tingle our spines.

Universal’s Blu-ray is good but not great. The Phantom of the Opera infrequently suffers from minor Technicolor misregistration. When the image is properly aligned we get a profoundly regal visual presentation with so much visual splendor on tap that one can simply sit back and bask in the sumptuousness of the exercise. Regrettably, this makes the momentary lapses all the more apparent and obvious. Contrast is superior to anything we’ve ever seen on this title on home video and fine details pop with breathtaking clarity. Given the infrequency of the aforementioned alignment problem it is a genuine shame Universal did not go back to tinker with the negative and fix these minor misfires. But there it is and remains on this stand-alone offering – another catalogue title excised from Universal’s Classic Monsters box set released last October.

The audio is DTS mono, yielding a stunning amount of clarity and aural refinement. Extras include a comprehensive ‘making of’ that covers not only the enduring popularity of Gaston LeRue’s novel, but also touches on the stage incarnations, the various film adaptations and also provides good background info on the making of this film. Universal also gives us a comprehensive audio commentary but precious little else. Oh well, what’s there is solidly put together. Good stuff – mostly – and overall recommended.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

2

THE INVISIBLE MAN: Blu-ray (Universal 1933) Universal Home Video

Universal fell back on a time-honored horror masterpiece, bringing H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man (1933) to life, starring the inimitable Claude Rains. But Wells’ nightmarish terror presented something of a challenge in that its star would never be seen. Instead, special effects trickery would create the illusion of an absence while Rains played virtually all of his scenes wrapped in a swath of bandages. However, Universal knew what it was doing when it cast Rains; an instantly recognizable voice infused with a mellifluous sincerity capable of pulling off the seemingly impossible feat of making an audience care for someone who ‘visually’ – at least – is not present.

Rains had not been the first choice for the part, but he proved the only choice in the final analysis, after Karloff, Chester Morris and Colin Clive all turned it down first. Rains is Dr. Jack Griffin, a reclusive stranger newly arrived in a tiny English hamlet. His presence startles innkeeper Mr. Hall (Forrest Harvey) and his wife (Una O’Connor); enough for Hall to order him out of his establishment. But when the police arrive, Griffin disrobes to reveal that he is, in fact, invisible.Tearing off into the night, Griffin is identified only by his hysterical cackle that continues to terrorize the town. Soon, however, Griffin will turn to the dark side of his lesser self – the mad scientist power mad and determined to destroy the world rather than save it from oblivion. Eventually the town comes to know Griffin from Flora Cranley (Gloria Stuart) who is desperately in love with him. The good doctor had been experimenting with ‘monocane’; a dangerous drug that rendered another test subject - Griffin’s dog – mad. Naturally, Flora’s father, Dr. Cranley (Henry Travers) is most concerned, even more so when Griffin forces Cranley’s assistant, Dr. Kemp (William Harrigan) to become his invisible cohort in a plot to take over the world.

Kemp attempts to alert the authorities. But, after Griffin overhears a police officer declaring the whole thing to be a colossal hoax, he decides to murder him simply to prove otherwise. Later, Kemp telephones Cranley who brings Flora with him to subdue Griffin from committing more murders. The plan backfires, and Griffin derails a train, killing many. In retaliation, the police offer a reward to anyone who can devise a plan to capture Griffin. The chief detective (Dudley Digges) uses Kemp as bait to lure Griffin out of hiding. He dresses Kemp in an officer’s uniform and orders him to drive his car away from his house. But once the vehicle is out of range, Griffin reveals that he has been hiding in the backseat all along and helps steer the car and Kemp over the edge of a cliff. Seeking shelter inside a nearby barn one snowy night, Griffin is ‘found’ by a farmer who just happens to notice that his hay stack is snoring. The police arrive and mortally wound Griffin. With Flora at his bedside Griffin admits that his experiments were evil and self-destructive; his body gradually becoming more transparent and finally visible as he slowly dies.

The Invisible Man is a provocative tale that taps into man's common desire to be autonomous in society and therefore be able to do and act exactly as he chooses without fear of reprisals. But R.C. Sherriff’s screenplay (with unaccredited assists from Preston Sturges and Philip Wylie) intelligently grapples with the psychological ramifications of not being able to see one’s self. The debate is age old. How do we know ourselves if not by the reflection we see in a mirror – our very essence of being and sense of self wrapped up in this visual context seen only second-hand, staring back at us but never truly witnessed in the first person. For Dr. Griffin, the absence of this tangible façade, the utter lack of it, is enough to drive him crazy. He reacts as he never would under normal circumstances, becoming power drunk on his own invisibility and this gradually consumes his sanity with a superiority complex.

Claude Rains delivers a knockout performance herein. An actor who graced many a Warner Bros. melodrama throughout the 1940s Rains is a superior presence on the screen – holding his own even when he is all but shielded from the camera’s view by the cosmetic trickery of rotoscoping. Rains, who suffered horribly from a speech impediment (an inability to pronounce his ‘R’s’) early on in his career, overcame his failings and later claimed that being gassed in WWI resulted in his voice acquiring its trademark silky smoothness of suave sophistication. A diminutive man in physical stature only, Rains 'on camera' presence is never anything less than magnetic. Today he remains much beloved by movie fans, most readily identified for his oily prefect of police, Louis Renault in Casablanca (1942). In The Invisible Man Rains is very much on his way to building a career from playing unique characters, his sophisticate’s air and minor pomp easily creating a towering figure out of this transparent science-fiction experiment gone horribly wrong.

The movie is also blessed to have Gloria Stuart and Henry Travers in supporting roles. Every studio had its own stock company of ‘character actors’ during its heyday. But Universal’s seems particularly adept at achieving a high-minded believability, particularly when dealing with the supernatural – a subject easily capable of degenerating into rank bad taste and even more deadly laughter elicited from an audience who are supposed to be utterly paralyzed with fear as they sit in the dark. The Invisible Man achieves its modicum of danger, terror and looming disaster primarily because of Rains. He builds on the gradual mental deterioration of his character, a sort of dramatic unraveling more startling even than the iconic moment when, to prove his superiority over the common man, Griffin unfurls his bandages before a startled gathering and the police to reveal the nothingness underneath.  The Invisible Man is top drawer entertainment; a real bone-chiller with exemplary production values and a peerless performance by its star.

Let the repackaging begin! Universal has slowly begun to parcel off singles from its very comprehensive Classic Monsters Collection – released last October rather than making singles available day and date with the box set and let the consumer decide for themselves which they prefer - or wait until this Fall for the Halloween push. Since this disc is virtually identical to the one included in that box set all of my superlatives applied then carry over forthwith. We get a first rate, reference quality 1080p effort. The Invisible Man has never looked better.

Universal has done more than ‘clean up’ the visuals; they have resurrected this visual masterpiece from home video oblivion. The results are astounding, with film grain very natural and fine details abounding even during the darkest scenes. There are still age-related artifacts to consider. Also, the rotoscoping is quite obvious, though never distracting.  Nevertheless, the B&W image reveals all of the subtleties in Arthur Edeson’s dark and brooding cinematography. Really good stuff here, so enjoy. 

The audio is DTS mono. While there’s still a modicum of hiss during quiescent scenes, there’s really nothing to complain about.  Universal’s rather scant on extras. We get a comprehensive audio commentary and a fantastic featurette that delves deeply into the making of the movie. But that’s about it. I would have loved a featurette on Claude Rains. Personally, I think the man is owed his own 2 hr. biography special – but that’s just me! The only thing Universal could have done to improve their prospects would have been to feature all of these extras in hi-def. No soap. They’re still 720i. Oh well, you can’t have everything. Highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

4

THE MUMMY: Blu-ray (Universal 1932) Universal Home Video

Let the repackaging begin! Universal has slowly begun to parcel off singles from its very comprehensive Classic Monsters Collection – released last October. Personally, I don’t see the point. The studio should have made singles available day and date with the box set and let the consumer decide for themselves which they prefer - or wait until this Fall for the Halloween push. Instead we have a Spring release. Oh well, we won’t poo-poo it any further. It is what it is. Carl Laemmle Jr., who had inherited the studio from his father, relished tales of the supernatural. His zeal for resurrecting ancient folklore made Universal Studios Hollywood’s modern-day derivative of Transylvania. But Laemmle Jr. departed from the tried and true literary masterworks of Braum Stoker and Mary Shelley to create an original fright with Karl Freund’s The Mummy (1932), starring Boris Karloff, who was fast becoming the ghoul de jour around the back lot.

Karloff – billed as ‘the uncanny’ by Universal’s marketing department – had endured excruciating hours in the makeup chair, while curmudgeonly Jack Pierce toiled over his piece by piece applications of Colodium, latex and feathered-in gauze to build up and disfigure Karloff’s visage for the Frankenstein monster. But even this must have paled to the tortures inflicted by Pierce’s bandaged applications for The Mummy, stretching Karloff’s skin and hand-stippling pocks of decay, dust and debris to create the thousand year old cadaver miraculously brought back to life.

The Mummy is not a horror movie per say, as it makes valiant and very high-brow strides to bridge a chasm between the supernatural and historical truth. At its crux The Mummy is a tragic love story; a man mummified before his time whose soul is trapped in the embalmed entrails of an Egyptian high priest, himself in search of an earthly woman he can sacrifice to resurrect the spirit of a great love lost to him in his own lifetime, the Princess Ankhesenamon. Karloff is magnificent as the mysterious undead, reborn among the living after his sarcophagus remains have been exhumed from the ancient sands. The original story by John Balderston had merit, inspired by the then recent '1922' discovery of the real Tutankhaman’s tomb. Archaeology was not only big news – it had rapidly become big business.

Karloff is Imhotep (Karloff). Apart from a brief glimpse in the film’s prologue awakening from his entombed eternity, Karloff spends the bulk of The Mummy’s run time out of his bandages, skulking about present day Cairo, masqueraded as Ardath Bey; a very old/very wise Egyptian guide for archaeologist Frank Whemple (David Manners), the son of Sir Joseph (Arthur Byron), one of the original excavators who discovered Imhotep’s remains. Imhotep is soon introduced to Helen Grosvenor (Zita Johann), Whemple’s fiancée whom he believes is the descendant of Ankhesenamon. Bey tells Whemple where to dig for the buried princess. But his motives are hardly altruistic. In fact, Bey plans to hypnotize Helen and then murder her through a ritualized ceremony that will transplant her soul into Ankhesenamon’s body.

The Bey hypnotizes Helen, revealing to her in a limpid pool of refracting light that past life in which she was sacrificed for choosing Imotep’s love over Pharaoh’s (James Crane). Although Helen becomes convinced that she is Ankhesenamon incarnate her earthly will to survive will not allow her to be sacrificed. In the meantime, Frank begins to suspect a more sinister plot afoot. Eventually he and Sir Joseph come to Helen’s rescue. But it is another unearthly power – that of Isis – that puts a period to Imotep’s plans; his betrayal of both the past and the present, abusing sacred scrolls for his own selfish means instead reducing him to a pile of dusty bones before Helen’s very eyes.

In the annals of Universal classic monsters, The Mummy is an intriguing departure. In years to come the studio would pretty much ditch all of the Egyptology stuff and just go for the pure scare in lackluster sequels like The Mummy’s Hand (1940) and The Mummy’s Ghost (1944), simplifying the makeup and pretty much ruining the effect convincingly achieved by Pierce and Karloff. Viewing the film today one is immediately struck by the remarkable restraint exercised by director Karl Freund; his eerie refusal to exploit the dramatic intensity of the mummy in full regalia at the start of the film. We get a close up of Karloff in his bandaged state, hands crossed against his chest, a faint glimmer stirring from beneath heavy dust-encrusted eyelids.

Then, there is a quick pan to Sir Joseph studying an ancient scroll before a very gnarled finger comes to rest upon this sacred document. A chilling shriek and another pan, downward to the floor where the mummy’s foot is glimpsed limping into the darkness, a stretch of bandage having come undone now trailing from behind – and that’s pretty much it!  Yet this sequence is chilling and far more memorable than any appearing in subsequent mummy movies or even any of the remakes since, precisely because it whets the audiences’ appetite for more without ever delivering. We wait in baited anticipation for the mummy’s return, but curiously are never disappointed when he doesn’t come back in any other form except the Bey.

This is primarily due to the clever script and the result of Karloff’s expertly crafted performance as the glowering stranger with sinister, piercing eyes and a much darker purpose. Karloff is at his most unsettling when he remains almost immobile before the camera, a slight tilt of his head or meticulously-timed movement of his hand generating a bizarre – almost hypnotically compelling fright from an otherwise innocuous gesture. Karloff’s presence – rather than his acting – is what sells the mummy and his alter-ego, Ardath Bey as evil personified. The rest of the cast are competent. Zita Johann – then considered something of an exotic sexpot all set to rival Garbo’s supremacy at MGM – is quite extraordinary. Regrettably, this was Johann’s one hit wonder. She never rose above the ranks of a B-list player afterward. But she gives good face herein.

In retrospect, The Mummy is one of Universal’s best ‘horror’ classics. If you don’t already own the Classic Monsters Collection (and frankly I can’t see why you wouldn’t) then this stand-alone release comes very highly recommended. Since this disc is virtually identical to the one included in that box set all of my superlatives applied then carry over forthwith. We get a first rate, reference quality 1080p effort to say the least. The Mummy has never looked better. Universal has done more than ‘clean up’ the visuals; they have resurrected this seemingly lost visual masterpiece from home video oblivion. The results are astounding, with film grain very natural and fine details abounding even during the darkest scenes. There are still age-related artifacts to consider, but these have been considerably scrubbed to yield very impressive clarity. The B&W image reveals all of the subtleties in Charles Stumar’s cinematography. Prepare to be astonished. 

The audio is DTS mono. While there’s still a modicum of hiss during quiescent scenes, there’s really nothing to complain about.  Extras are all direct imports from previous DVD incarnations and include two fascinating retrospectives on the movie, another on Jack Pierce, a very comprehensive audio commentary, the mummy archives (chocked full of vintage junket materials) and the original theatrical trailer. The only thing Universal could have done to improve their prospects would have been to feature all of these extras in hi-def. No soap. They’re still 720i. Oh well, you can’t have everything. Highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

4

JANE AUSTEN'S MAFIA/THE CREW: Blu-ray (Touchstone 1998-2000) Mill Creek Entertainment

A spirited, occasionally clever spoof of just about every mafia movie you’ve ever seen – as well as a wicked jab at such iconic movies Jaws, The English Patient, Jurassic Park and Forrest Gump - Jim Abraham’s Jane Austen’s Mafia (1998) spins its goofy yarn about ‘disorganized’ crime with all the aplomb of a glorified Saturday Night Live skit, infrequently outstaying its welcome, but on the whole retaining its feel good with a few meandering dry spots factored in. The Abrahams, Greg Norberg, Michael McManus screenplay is an unprepossessing claptrap whose homage to The Godfather parts one and two is so transparently obvious yet strangely salvageable.

Jay Mohr stars as Anthony Cortino; a would-be mafia chieftain who inherits this syndicate after his father, Don Vincenzo Armani Windbreaker Cortino (played by Jason Fuchs as a precocious accident-prone boy back in Italy and Lloyd Bridges as an equally bumbling old man living in America) – sometimes referred to as Don Cortisone – is shot 47 times by an assassin disguised as a priest (Richard Abrahams) during his son Joey’s (Billy Burke) wedding to “some Italian girl”. The Don survives, only to be offed by his pint-sized nephew, Chucky (one of the film’s less successful homages; this one to the horror cult classic - Child’s Play). Anthony is in love with Diane Steen (Christina Applegate); a doe-eyed whimsical idealist who fears that she will always be “just a Protestant chick who never killed anybody” if she marries into the Cortino clan.

After the opening credits that have Anthony being blown up in his car (a complete rip off of Scorsese’s Casino, with its only distinction being that Mohr’s flailing buffoon does some cheerleading with a pair of pom-poms and also completes a slam dunk into a basketball hoop while sailing through the flames) we regress to the 1930s; to the Italian province of Salmonella. Here, the local peasantry are preparing for the Festival of the Olives, complete with nuns juggling genoa salami, a Pope on stilts and Miss Pimento; their resident beauty queen, riding atop a float next to Jeopardy game show host, Alex Trebek (I confess, this last in-joke utterly escapes me).   

Young Vincenzo offers to take a large package for his father, a Sicilian postman named Luigi (Anthony Crivello) to the lavish estate of the local mafia chieftain Don Ruffo (Stefan Lysenko) who is in the middle of a passionate seduction when the boy arrives. Ruffo is displeased by the intrusion but becomes enraged when Vincenzo drops the parcel, revealing that it contains cocaine. Ruffo releases his ‘guard sheep’ who take one sniff of the white powder and become as docile as…well…sheep. Ruffo then tries to shoot Vincenzo with his shot gun, only to snap off his own thumb and use it as a bullet instead. Vincenzo gets away but is discovered with his family at the Olive festival where Luigi is shot, falling off the wagon – literally - while Vincenzo’s mother (Sofia Milos) blames his collapse on his alcoholism; “Twelve step program my ass!”

Vincenzo is hidden in a donkey’s anal cavity and taken to the docks as just another migrant stowaway aboard the steamer, Il Pacino, get it? Instead, he trips, becoming entangled in a fishnet and falling overboard, swimming the length of the journey to Ellis Island where he is identified by an immigration officer by the Armani windbreaker he is wearing. Vincenzo briefly meets Jenny (Allyson Call) – another newly landed immigrant. The two share a moonlight wish upon a star, with Vincenzo’s being instantly fulfilled as Jenny’s cleavage exponentially inflates to reveal a set of very perky nipples.

Flash forward to Joey’s wedding. Anthony introduces Diane to the family. She’s polite and plucky but decks Joey in the chops by accident. Joey is psychotic; self-indulgent and becoming hooked on cocaine after rival Don Gorgoni (Vincent Pastore) offers the aged Vincenzo a ground level ‘piece of the action’ but is turned down because Vincenzo mistakes the investment as non-dairy creamer. After Vincenzo is riddled with bullets, Anthony beats sprinter Flo-Jo to his father’s side. Diane and Anthony part over his intension to kill Gorgoni for the attempt on his father’s life. Meanwhile, Las Vegas’s Don Cesar Marzoni (Tony Lo Bianco) helps Anthony hide out, making him the manager of The Peppermill – a posh casino and resort. But he also sets Anthony up by introducing him to the femme fatale, Pepper Gianini (Pamela Gidley). Asked by Anthony about her background; “Any Sicilian in you?”, the tart and very sly Pepper replies, “Not since last night!”  Despite this auspicious introduction, Pepper and Anthony quickly become lovers and later wed. Anthony brings Joey into the Peppermill as thug muscle. But the psycho is so ramped up on cocaine that he cannot even accurately assess who is cheating the house at poker, shocking virtually everyone except the culprit – including all of the dealers and cocktail waitresses - with an electric cattle prod at Anthony’s behest. Worse for everyone, Joey – who is exceptionally well endowed - has begun an affair with Pepper. When Anthony discovers them in their flagrante delicto he is livid. Attempting to shore up their fractured fraternal relations, Joey turns to confront his brother, accidentally knocking over a very expensive vase with his still erect penis.

Afterward Joey and Pepper plot to rid themselves of Anthony by having him blown up in his car. Don Vincenzo Cortino dies after being sprayed with some DDT by Chucky. However, Anthony has survived his assassination attempt, returning for his father’s funeral horrifically disfigured. His grey-skinned cadaver-like appearance repulses all of the attendees and the priest who take their turn spewing projectile vomit on the casket (The Exorcist, anyone?) and Anthony decides to take his revenge on all those who have challenged ‘the family.’  He sends his mother (now played by a humpbacked Olympia Dukakis) to the Peppermill. She devours a bunch of broccoli before turning her Spanks toward a lit candle in Pepper’s suite and breaking wind; thereby blowing up her daughter-in-law. Anthony also has a special parcel sent to Joey’s home from ‘Steven’s Pet Shop’ (a spoof on Jurassic Park, with baby velociraptors emerging from the package to tear apart Chucky). Joey is exiled to Fargo where he establishes a male fertility clinic. Finally, Anthony sends Fatso Paulie Orsatti (Paul Hammond) to impersonate Michael Flatley during a Vegas styled review of Riverdance, where he decapitates Don Marzoni by kicking his head with his steel-toed tap shoe.

Anthony, who has miraculously recovered from his wounds (all but a Band-Aid on his chin), now pursues Diane who has since become the President of the United States and is within arm’s reach of achieving world peace. She forgoes this monumental achievement to marry Anthony instead, particularly after discovering that – in her absence – she has become a mother (don’t ask…just run with it). Anthony introduces Diane to her son (also named Diane and played by T.J. Cannata). After their wedding Diane is outraged to learn in the press of the hits Anthony carried out right under her nose. Yet, a simple denial from Anthony is all that is required to reset her outrage. The film ends with a minor character masquerading as an Eskimo and harpooning Barney – the loveable children’s dinosaur.

Jane Austen’s Mafia has its moments, but a goodly number of its jokes turn rancid or become moderately lame to downright wan regurgitations of stuff we’ve already seen elsewhere. Throwing a litany of predigested lowbrow fluff at the screen and hoping something will stick – and it occasionally does – only serves to remind just how little there is to appreciate beyond this diluted silliness. The parody becomes anemic; the spoof losing its fizz almost immediately; the humor not nearly as gut-busting as oddly suppressed and repetitively mind-numbing. The characters are cardboard cutouts at best, with about as much relevancy as a Harvard lampoon. Mafia isn’t funny so much as it’s ironic and strangely sad and that’s a shame.

But even it seems like highbrow pop art compared to Michael Dinner’s The Crew (2000); a woefully mismanaged and undernourished mishmash. Barry Fanaro’s screenplay cataclysmically mangles its scenario – that of four over-the-hill wise guys reduced to working a variety of retail service gigs just to hang on to their ramshackle South Beach Florida apartment on the cusp of being remodeled into a swanky upscale hotspot for the perpetually buff from the world of the anatomically gifted. We meet our four ‘retired’ mobsters; Bobby Bartellomeo (Richard Dreyfus), Joey ‘Bats’ Pistelli (Burt Reynolds), Mike ‘The Brick’ Donatelli (Dan Hedaya) and Tony ‘The Mouth’ Donato (Seymour Cassel) on the front porch of the hotel, lazily ogling the firm bodied set parading past with modest disdain.

In a retro-fitted flashback prologue that is way too long and utterly pointless we learn how all of ‘the crew’ acquired their nicknames; none of this background info ever referenced again in the movie. When the fellas learn that they are likely to be evicted from their shared digs because of sky-rocketing rent they decide to take matters into their own hands. Mike, who has since become a mortician’s assistant, steals an unclaimed cadaver from the morgue, with the intension of shooting him in the lobby; thereby frightening the residents away which will also cause the landlord to drop the rent. The only problem is that the corpse turns out to be the late father of Raoul Ventana (Miguel Sandoval) a Columbian drug lord who promises revenge for the…uh…murder.

In the meantime, Tony – a man of very few words (okay, practically none), but an incredible zest for…well…shall we say, other recreational activities…takes up with Ferris (Jennifer Tilly) whose real name is Maureen Lowenstein; a busty stripper with the I.Q. of a moth but an enterprising sense of larceny to get back at her stepmother, Pepper (Lainie Kazan). After Tony inexplicably confesses to Ferris that he and the boys are responsible for planting the body in the hotel lobby, she blackmails the lot into plotting Pepper’s murder so that she can inherit her late father’s wealth and estate. The plan goes awry, predictably, when the boys – who have no stomach for killing – decide instead to kidnap Pepper and torch the house. They plant a skeleton stolen from the science lab to fool the police and Ferris into thinking Pepper has died in the fire.

Two problems; first, no one thinks to examine the skeleton – which is not real but a plastic replica with a tag clearly identifying it as being ‘Made in China’. Second, the flames from the fire inexplicably carry over to the house next door belonging to Raoul who now believes that one of his rivals is trying to send him a message or simply rub him out. In the meantime, police detectives Olivia Neil (Carrie-Anne Moss) and Steve Menteer (Jeremy Piven) are hot on the trail of the first crime; stopping to casually interrogate ‘the crew’ about their whereabouts on the night the body turned up in the lobby. Although she does not recognize him, Bobby realizes that Olivia is his estranged daughter whom he has not seen since she was four years old.

Olivia and Steve had been a hot item at one time; that is until she discovered a pair of panties in the backseat of his car that she quietly sent off for DNA testing to confirm her suspicions. Now she regards him as pond scum; despite the fact that he’s exceptionally gifted at sucking her toes. Yeah…it’s gross. The long and the short of it is that Steve actually works for Raoul. The boys eventually reveal to Ferris that they have spared Pepper’s life moments before Raoul’s men capture Tony, Pepper, Ferris, Steve and Olivia, taking everyone aboard a steamer docked nearby where Raoul is awaiting a very large shipment of drugs. Bobby, however, has escaped and together with Joey gathers together a lot of the other retired mafia boys for one last hurrah. In the ensuing confrontation, Raoul and his men are apprehended, Olivia learns the truth – about both her partner and Bobby – and Raoul and his men are arrested by the police.   

The Crew is a sort of geriatric ‘goodfellas’ but without Scorsese’s knack for telling compelling stories about the mafia; a tale impeded by its lack of good sense to clarify for the audience whether it is trying to be a comedy with dramatic elements factored in or just a downtrodden melodrama with light comedic touches liberally applied to little or no effect. As a result, it quickly becomes an oddity; a mutt of a movie that never manages to escape from the purgatory of its artistically-bankrupt pound. The initial setup is depressing to say the least; four overgrown has-beens popping their medication and dreaming about their glory days long since gone by.  Their resolution to the rent control problem – planting a cadaver in the lobby – is so ridiculous and implausible that the narrative quickly degenerates into a grotesque lampoon, but without the necessary irony-inducing chortle to pull any of it off. Instead the story lumbers along; the movie in its own late stages of Alzheimer’s as Fanaro’s screenplay readily forgets the trajectory of its story, waffling between quaintly absurd vignettes that do little to establish character or evolve the plot. Richard Dreyfuss is all but wasted as the storyteller who bookends this lugubrious affair while Burt Reynolds can barely contain his disdain throughout – obviously appearing in this one only for the money. Lainie Kazan must need the paycheck pretty badly too; reduced to a blubbering caricature of the overprotective/bossy Jewish mother who finds…uh…happiness…by wedding Tony in the final reel.  Even at a scant 87 min. The Crew outstays its welcome. It is about as appealing as watching paint dry.

Mill Creek Home Entertainment is at it again; compressing lesser known catalogue titles onto a single Blu-ray and slapping out 1:78.1 transfers with little regard for the overall quality of their product. Thankfully, the results on this combo aren’t quite the disaster as some of their previous efforts (Stella immediately coming to mind). Mafia is worse for the wear – odd – because the image starts out very strong with vibrant colors and solid contrast levels. About mid-way through however, the print acquires a very heavy patina of grain that borders on digital noise, the image becoming gritty and slightly unstable with some bleeding around the edges.

Watch the scene where Anthony confronts Pepper and Joey about their affair. Here, flesh tones sudden veer into piggy-pink hues while background information almost breaks apart from some sort of unquantifiable digital noise. Contrast also gets blown out. On the whole, The Crew is a much more visually consistent viewing experience; good solid contrast throughout and rich colors that briefly look washed out near the end of the movie. Mill Creek won’t win any awards for this disc, but the transfers are passable for movies that are decidedly very below par for what great film-making is all about. The DTS 5.1 audio on both is competent. No complaints, but no outstanding moments to speak of either. Extras are limited to trailers.  Not recommended.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

Mafia 2.5

The Crew 2

VIDEO/AUDIO

Mafia 2.5

The Crew 3.5

Extras

0    

McLINTOCK: Blu-ray (Batjac 1963) Olive Films

Andrew V. McLaglen’s McLintock (1963) isn’t quite the John Wayne classic I expected; a meandering farce using the veneer of the Hollywood western and cache of its star to modest effect. The first half of the movie plays a little like My Little Chickadee (1940), albeit without the razor-sharp and very glib repartee a la a Mae West, while the last act – an all-out brawl between costars Wayne and Maureen O’Hara that borders on absurd slapstick - is a page ripped right out of John Ford’s The Quiet Man (1952), again – without the refinement or poignancy of Ford’s inimitable guiding hand to pull it off. Wayne and O’Hara – who have co-starred to better effect elsewhere, herein are cast as rancher George Washington ‘G.W.’ McLintock and his estranged wife, Katherine Gilhooley respectively.  Seems Kate (she hates being called that, either by G.W. or his ever-devoted ranch hand Drago, played by Chill Wills) is a bit of a shrew, hard-nosed, embittered and full of daggers and vinegar for her husband, whom she regards as nothing more than a common bully. After all, the rather pig-headed G.W. absolutely refuses to grant Kate her divorce. He also isn’t about to relinquish parental custody of his adult daughter, Becky (Stefanie Powers); particularly since he regards Kate’s influences as detrimental. The way he sees it, she’s all but turned the bright-eyed Becky into a self-indulgent prig. Oh well, so much for familial strife.

If you know your John Wayne movies then McLintock plays a lot like ‘old home week’ without the necessary verve for such nostalgia. Wayne and O’Hara are old friends and old pros; but their chemistry really doesn’t click herein. They spend most of the movie hating one another, but the sparks generated don’t equate to a sexual friction as they did in their pairings in Rio Grande and The Quiet Man. McLintock also costars such Wayne movie alumni as Chill Wills, Hank Worden (as simple-minded ranch hand Curly), Yvonne DeCarlo (Mrs. Louise Warren) and Wayne’s own son, Patrick as Devlin; Louise’s son and Becky’s love interest.  Devlin and Louise have just come in on the noon day train with a new group of homesteaders that G.W. is eager to dissuade from settling the land that surrounds his sprawling cattle ranch. Apart from the fact that they’ll build a lot of fences impugning the migratory grazing patterns of his steers, G.W. is quite frankly honest with the prospectors about the earth on the mesa; hardly conducive to farming – something the federal government failed to mention when giving away their land grants to these unsuspecting settlers.

Devlin begs G.W. for a job on his ranch and then takes an unsuccessful pot shot at him for giving him the opportunity simply because he is ashamed he had to grovel for it. G.W. doesn’t hold a grudge, however. Devlin can still work for him – and so can Louise for that matter, hired on as the ranch cook to resident houseboy, Ching’s (H.W. Gim) initial regret. Nevertheless, these new arrivals quickly settle in. But the household does not remain happy for very long, thanks to Kate’s impromptu visit. Bossing the servants and ranch hands with equal disregard, and treated her husband like an unwanted guest in his own home, Kate generally makes a nuisance of herself. But even she seems like small potatoes once Becky arrives with her cordial banjo-strumming college-bound suitor, Matt Douglas Jr. (Jerry Van Dyke), the son of G.W.’s nemesis and local gadfly, Matt Sr. (Gordon Jones). In the weakest of subplots, oily territorial governor Cuthbert Humphrey (Robert Lowry) has plans to discredit McLintock’s reputation and settle the land by chasing the local Comanche off of it.

But this isn’t really the crux of the story. So back to Devlin we go. He thinks Becky a fine girl even though she pays him no attention and infrequently is insulting. Still, Devlin’s more the man than Matt will ever be or hope to become any day of the week and quickly Becky becomes smitten with Devlin, much to Kate’s distress. After all she can see the future – a carbon-copy of her own past. But see the gracious whim of fate; Kate’s suspicions - that G.W. had been unfaithful to her so many years before – has been a case of mistaken mistrust and false allegations run amuck. G.W. has always loved Kate despite her propriety and impudence.  But G.W. is not a fool. Neither is he a pushover. So, after sanctioning the union between his daughter and Devlin he redoubles his efforts to woo Kate to his side.

She rebels, of course, violently and tearing off through the city during the 4^th of July festivities in her petticoats and corset merely to escape G.W. who has had quite enough of her prudery for one lifetime. Kate makes a savage mess of the local dried goods store, flinging tomatoes and other household items at G.W., knocking over shelves and chairs while racing around the counter to escape him. Eventually, she manages to shimmy up a ladder that teeters away from the building, plunging her like a stone into a nearby trough and pulling local madam, Camille (Mari Blanchard) right in alongside her after being scoffed at and taunted. Kate retreats in shame to the ranch where she and G.W. inexplicably and quite abruptly patch things up, he declaring that happy days – and nights – are once again upon them; the light in the upstairs window going out.

McLintock is not a terribly prepossessing western and a fairly leaden comedy. The characters are mostly cardboard cutouts, particularly Becky and Devlin. John Wayne spends most of the narrative speaking in heavy-handed platitudes about the struggles of life and the great love he’s been denied. These diatribes are meant to balance the more raucous slapstick with a modicum of introspection, but they come across as more pontificating than anything else; and with a note of condescension in a sort of ‘you don’t know anything so sit there and listen’ approach that doesn’t really endear us to the character.

McLintock was made for Wayne’s own company – Batjac – the directorial reigns handed to Andrew McLaglen whose father, Victor had adorned many a Wayne western including Fort Apache, She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, Rio Grande and The Quiet Man. In only his fifth film as a director, McLaglen Jr. doesn’t pick up much steam – relying heavily on the conventional staging for a Hollywood western. The only problem is that McLintock is supposed to be a bawdy comedy, not a western. Hence, McLaglen’s pacing seems to be off, even during the climactic mudslide brawl and penultimate marital conflict and resolution between Kate and G.W.; the movie straining for its laughs rather than being able to elicit the full-bellied roar from its audience.

And Wayne looks out of place somehow in trying to be too funny. Undeniably, he has a way about him – a cadence that is inimitable and unmistakable – but it doesn’t really translate to comedy. O’Hara plays the bitch with too much rage and not enough chuckle; more grating than ingratiating. If she were more the broken heart or even just a wee bit kinder to the rest of the cast there might have been an ounce of sympathy to suckle for her character. But Kate is vial; a royal pain in the saddle, regarding everyone with an irreprehensible snootiness as her inferior. It’s hard to imagine what G.W. must have seen in her initially to make Kate his wife and even more of a perplexing riddle to reason why he should ever want her back. Good riddance to bad rubbish – even such as handsomely designed as Kate.  

Patrick Wayne and Stefanie Powers don’t make much of a splash as the up and coming romantic lovers destine to spar their way to the altar, although both are very good to look at. They do make a smart couple but one could glean the same appreciation for the pair by studying their portraits in swimsuits for a Sears/Robuck catalogue; their performances are that wooden. The rest of the cast are just window dressing, serviceable but not given all that much to do and it’s a shame too, because both Chill Wills and Hank Worden are beloved hams who might have at least livened up the comedic elements.  In the final analysis, McLintock is a very low grade/second tier effort by all concerned. James Edward Grant’s screenplay just throws a bunch of western clichés and bumbling guffaws at the screen hoping something will stick. Occasionally something does, but overall we are left with a rather pedestrian story whose only salvation is that it has such high-end talent as Wayne and O’Hara as its leads. That doesn’t make for a great picture and no one would ever accuse McLintock of being one. ‘A’ for effort, perhaps. But C+ in the way it all came together, though arguably, never comes off.

I can say the same for Olive’s Blu-ray; a total fail in my opinion. Paramount had previously released a DVD of McLintock advertised as sourced from original elements. I am not exactly certain what elements were used in the mastering of this Blu-ray. The image is 1080p, but incredibly flawed. The biggest issue is color implosion and fading. I also detected some minor haloing that left me perplexed. McLintock was not shot on 3-strip Technicolor, but certain scenes appear to as though that classic look of mis-registration of the blue record has occurred. The print also appears to be suffering from the onset of vinegar syndrome.  Flesh tones are a chalky orange. G.W.s pelt jacket wobbles between a naturalistic dusty tan and jaundiced yellow. Blacks can adopt a purplish tint – another sign that something is wrong with the emulsion. There’s a lot of age related damage scattered throughout. Maureen O’Hara’s lime green dress (as it appeared on Paramount’s DVD) now assumes a bilious tone. Also, the image doesn’t improve as it should in overall sharpness and/or clarity. A lot of scenes look soft with fine detail generally lacking throughout.

If you already own the Paramount DVD you will recall that it was hardly a stellar product. But at least its color density and tonality looked truer to the source material than this Blu-ray does. The overall appearance herein is cartoony. The skies bloom robin egg blue, the reds looking more candy-apple than anything else. Cattle and dirt have the same tint of ruddy brown and contrast is a tad weak. Grain is also a curiosity. It’s there and heavy at times, but then looking digitally scrubbed the next minute without rhyme or reason. Not good. Not even passable, if you ask me. The DTS 5.1 is adequate, but just barely – more strident and lacking in bass than anything else. The biggest oversight of them all; Olive hasn’t acquired the rights to the nearly 2 ½ hrs. of supplements that came with Paramount’s DVD. No, this is a ‘bare bones’, single-layered disc with nothing else but the movie on it. For shame!  Badly done and not recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

1.5

EXTRAS

0

THE SUN SHINES BRIGHT: Blu-ray (Republic/Argossy 1952) Olive Films

Said to be the personal favorite of all his movies (although similar claims have been made with regards to How Green Was My Valley and The Quiet Man) John Ford’s The Sun Shines Bright (1952) is something of an oddity in the director’s career – his one unabashedly sentimental movie without a single star in its headline and in which the comedic elements in Laurence Stallings and Irvin S. Cobb’s screenplay all but take precedence over Ford’s usually more finely wrought attention to melodrama. To be sure there is plenty of both in The Sun Shines Bright; derived from three short stories by Cobb, ‘The Sun Shines Bright’, ‘The Mob from Massac’ and ‘The Lord Provides’ whose beloved central character Judge William ‘Billy’ Priest is the common thread and who had already been immortalized by Ford with Will Rogers in 20^th Century-Fox’s 1934 comedy Judge Priest. The grand old man of no-nonsense social commentary, Will Rogers had given something of an iconic performance as the altruistic magistrate who enjoyed a nip or two for medicinal purposes almost as much as he relished presiding over the inhabitance of his small Kentucky home town.

It’s a decidedly different Judge Priest we meet in The Sun Shines Bright; older, more introspective and remotely sadder than we recall – the years having refined what others might perceive as the character’s mere charm and obvious largesse into a vaguely more meaningful philosophy on life. Just exactly what this might be is left to our speculation – mostly - and to Charles Winninger’s evocative expressions that manage to convey so much more than any dialogue. With a decade’s worth of movie classics under his belt – many more heartfelt than humorous – Ford seems to have recognized the fundamentals of Judge Priest on more poignant terms in The Sun Shines Bright; the aged Winninger taking up the mantel with his own inimitable brand of homespun good sense.   

Our story begins in the small riverside town of Fairfield County, Kentucky with the rude awakening of Judge Priest (Winninger) from his peaceful slumber, stirred by the piercing sound of a riverboat steamer whistle. Oh no…not again – he’s late for court! Calling for his hired hand, Jeff Poindexter (Stepin Fetchit) to reach under his bed for a medicinal drop of moonshine, the Judge hurries himself along. But his attentions are momentarily diverted by the unexpected return of the town’s profligate young stud, Ashby Corwin (John Russell) who wastes no time visiting his old haunts – particularly one Lucy Lee Lake (Arleen Whelan) whose adopted father is the town’s doctor, Lewt (Russell Simpson).  The good doctor is hardly pleased to see Ashby, but Lucy Lee is decidedly ecstatic; playing her cards close to her chest, but rather put off when Ashby laughs at her for having become a school teacher in the poor black community.

In the meantime, Judge Priest presides over his court, slightly distracted by the moral pontificating of prosecutor Horace K. Maydew (Milburn Stone) who is gunning for his job during this pending election year. The judge is dissuaded by Maydew from hearing a case regarding Mallie Cramp (Eve March) who runs a house of ill repute, but is encouraged to take stock of Uncle Plez’ Woodford’s (Ernest Whitman) concern over his nephew, You Ess Grant Woodford (Elzie Emanuel) whom he perceives to be frittering away the hours on his banjo without any vocation to sustain himself. To this end, Judge Priest hears Grant play a spirited rendition of ‘Dixie’ before recommending him for a job, working the tobacco fields in the Tornado District.

Later that evening the judge attends General Fairfield (James Kirkwood) in the lavishly appointed study of his grand old southern mansion. Fairfield regards Priest warmly but staunchly refuses to admit that Lucy Lee is his granddaughter. Regrettably, the girl has had a hard time of dealing with her own illegitimacy. Many of the town’s folk are more than just unsympathetic. They’re downright cruel in their admonishments and taunting; particularly blowhard Buck Ransey (Grant Withers) and his liquored up entourage. Knowing too well what it’s like to be the ‘black sheep’ of his family, Ashby comes to Lucy Lee’s defense, challenging Buck to a shirtless buggy-whipping that only ends when Judge Priest intrudes to separate them. Not long thereafter a mysterious woman (Dorothy Jordan) departs the steamer late at night; ill and weak, before collapsing in the street. She is rescued by Ashby who carries her to Dr. Lake’s house for treatment. But her illness – whatever it may be – is too far advanced. After uncontrollably sobbing she reveals her dying wish; to see her daughter, Lucy Lee one last time, Lucy appears in the doorway without knowing that the mystery woman is, in fact, her mother. The woman smiles and dies contently.  Lucy hurries to Judge Priest’s home where she questions him about her origins before glimpsing the truth in a portrait of her father and a woman whom she closely resembles and now is able to identify as the mysterious woman in Dr. Lake’s parlor.

The narrative shifts to Grant, having been arrested for the rape of a white girl. Priest has the terrorized young man placed inside the local county lockup, a lynch mob led by Ransey and the girl's father, Rufe Ramseur (Trevor Bardette) soon appearing to claim Grant and spare the community the prospects of a lengthy trial.  Disbelieving the evidence against Grant outright, Priest attempts to reason with the angry mob before drawing his gun and ordering the crowd to disperse.  Ransey challenges Priest’s authority and is given a final warning by the judge at gunpoint; that he will be shot dead if he comes any closer. Begrudgingly, Ransey throws down his ropes and storms off, but Rufe warns Priest that his actions will cost him plenty on Election Day.

Aging German shop keep, Herman Felsburg (Ludwig Stossel) sadly insists that the judge and his appointed council will surely be turned out of office. Popular opinion does, in fact, seem to be turning against Priest; particularly after Mallie Cramp is seen leaving his home. Mallie is determined to give Lucy's late mother an honorable burial. The next evening Lucy arrives at a cadet’s ball on Ashby’s arm. They share a dance. But once again insecurity overtakes Lucy and she asks to be driven home. Ransey attempts to have words with Ashby. But just then Rufe’s raped daughter (Mini Doyle) appears, clearly identifying Ransey as her attacker. Ransey attempts to flee the scene in Lucy’s carriage but is shot by an elderly soldier and dies; the runaway carriage subdued by Ashby.

The next day Judge Priest joins Mallie and her friends in the funeral procession for Lucy’s mother. The town’s folk - all of whom have come to cast their ballots in the election - are shocked by this public display, though a few, like Ashby and Herman join in the cortege. Maydew is pleased, sensing that with Priest’s popularity ebbing he will slide into office without much of a struggle. As the funeral cortege passes the General’s plantation, Fairfield quietly emerges from his home to pay his respects.  Later, he will join Lucy at the church where Priest continues to speak lovingly of Lucy’s mother and the sacrifices she made to bring her child into the world.

Returning to the center of town Priest discovers that Maydew leads him in the polls by almost one hundred votes. But Priest will not concede the election until after the Tornado District has cast their ballots. Rufe and his men arrive; warmly shaking Maydew’s hand before entering the polling station. However, when they emerge after casting their ballots it is revealed that virtually every one of them has voted for Judge Priest. As night falls a victory procession passes in front of Judge Priest’s home as he tearfully greets one and all, with Lucy and Ashby reunited and looking on.

For the most part The Sun Shines Bright is a quiet gem of a movie; understated and eloquently played – albeit with a few minor misfires along the way. Most painful of all are the black stereotypes, relying heavily on the cliché of the simple-minded ‘darkie’ – particularly Stepin Fetchit’s Jeff; a mindless, low functioning and lazy loafer with a questionable work ethic and the I.Q. of a three year old; ditto for Ernest Whitman and Elzie Emanuel’s characterizations, little more than wide-eyed caricatures of the happy Negro. Ford has some trouble transitioning between the three individual narratives that comprise the movie’s story. Rather than integrating all three into one cohesive timeline we are given an episodic succession; one told after the other. It’s not the best way to build dramatic tension and/or pathos, and, Ford seems awkward in attempting dramatic arcs. The other hurdle not entirely resolved is the film’s lack of powerful star presences to pull the story along. Charles Winninger is a fine actor and readily calls out our respect for his considerable talents.

But he is surrounded by others not quite up to his caliber, many of whom regress into the backdrop of our collective memory whenever they have walked off the screen. The worst of these are Grant Withers’ Buck Ransey and John Russell’s Ashby Corwin;  the former little more than a cardboard cutout who achieves nothing except his comeuppance in the third act, the latter handsome enough but much too wooden to be appreciated as the film’s would-be romantic suitor.  Arleen Whelan’s Lucy Lee and James Kirkwood’s Gen. Fairfield are window dressing at best – depriving us of their bittersweet reunion during Lucy’s mother’s funeral.

Despite these misfires, The Sun Shines Bright has some very solid writing to recommend it; some finely plotted situations interspersed, and, some fairly consistent acting applied throughout. If the actors don’t stand out, neither are they ‘bad actors’ or misguided in their approach to the characters. I can respect a good no-name giving it his or her all, even if their presence lacks the defining quality of a star to make them live on in my memory.  In the final analysis, The Sun Shines Bright feeds into that tender and often poignant slice of Americana John Ford so obviously adored and excelled at rekindling for the modern generation. It isn’t Ford’s best work – not by a long shot - or, quite possibly, even representative of his second tier, but it works on some level as a mostly satisfying entertainment despite its shortcomings.

Olive Film’s Blu-ray is fairly impressive. The original elements must have been in exceptionally good shape because what we have here is a finely detailed B&W image with exceptional clarity, a fine smattering of realistic film grain, very solid contrast levels and sharpness that never appears to have been digitally enhanced. I’m not a fan of Olive giving us single-layered transfers, but this one I really cannot fault. The image looks about as good as I could have imagined, albeit with a few obvious age-related anomalies that have not been cleaned up and are present throughout. Otherwise, I have no complaints about what I’m seeing. It looks very film-like. The audio is mono and presented at an adequate level, although occasionally I found dialogue being slightly overpowered by other effects sounds in the track and a slight case of background hiss. Regrettably, there are NO extras.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

0