THE PALEFACE: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1948) Kino Lorber

1948 was a landmark year for Paramount Pictures, only in some ways to please the studio and, as it turned out, the rest of Hollywood. Indeed, this was the epoch when the government of the United States took the studios to task and to court in an anti-trust case to splinter the autonomy enjoyed by every Hollywood major as the sole purveyors of mass entertainment. The Supreme Court’s decision effectively forced the Hollywood majors into a steep decline, ordering their divestiture of theater chains, publishing houses, and other apparatuses that had helped to create and maintain their insular monopolies.  Under the court’s ruling, the age of ‘vertical integration’ ended, and so did the much-prized ‘studio system’ essential to elevate the consistency and quality of their output. Unaware of this clear-cutting devastation about to inflict that star-lit mecca, the public still regarded Hollywood as an elusive ‘dream land’, even as their insatiable appetite for movies was being syphoned off by the advent of television. Interestingly, Paramount’s biggest smash of the season was not the stealthily executed noir/thriller, Sorry, Wrong Number, nor the costly Bing Crosby musical, The Emperor Waltz, nor even Billy Wilder’s scathingly original indictment on American politics during WWII in A Foreign Affair, but the rollicking ‘shoot from the hip’ misguided adventures of comedian, Bob Hope, pitted against the sultry Jane Russell in director, Norman Z. Leonard’s The Paleface (1948).

In Bob Hope we have a curiosity indeed – already a legend on the radio, and considered a huge box office draw besides. Hope would laughingly reference the whole of his movie career as an excuse to fill theaters, stubbornly denied the respect of his peers. Certainly, AMPAS continued to overlook his talents; Hope – with his leering camp, the perfect foil for laid back Bing Crosby in their light and frothy ‘Road’ pictures.  Paramount had signed the ski-nosed actor to a lucrative deal back in 1938, launching his career with The Big Broadcast, costarring W.C. Fields and debuting the song, ‘Thanks for the Memories’. In the intervening decades, this tune would be adopted by Hope as his personalized anthem, endlessly revived to close out his USO shows. And while Paramount had a definite formula for the comedian’s success, to date, Hope’s biggest money maker for the studio was 1947’s My Favorite Brunette – a picture rather heavily relying upon the shapely charms of co-star, Dorothy Lamour, as well as Hope’s rapid-fire zingers to augment its comedy. Between 1938 and 1972, Bob Hope was a fixture in 54 movies and the beloved Master of Ceremonies for the annual Oscar telecast – hosting a whopping 19 years, always, to feign indignation for having effectively been overlooked for his contributions to the world of film, and glibly to refer to the Academy Awards as ‘Passover’.  

The Paleface finds Hope playing two-fisted greenhorn/dentist, Peter ‘Painless’ Potter opposite Howard Hughes’ discovery, Jane Russell, as Calamity Jane. Russell’s ample bosom had been Hughes’ inspiration for launching her career. However, Russell quickly asserted that her assets were far more diverse and delightful than what first met the eye at a glance. She could handle comedy and drama with equal aplomb and hold her own when warbling a tune. Brains and beauty made Russell the ideal foil for many a hapless male costar who believed at the outset she was ripe for the plucking, only to turn the tables mid-plot and take control over the romantic sparring on tap. As scripted by Edmund Hartmann and Frank Tashlin, the plot of The Paleface finds Calamity Jane briefly incarcerated, busted out of prison by a pair of government agents working for Governor Johnson (Charles Trowbridge) and Commissioner of Internal Affairs, Emerson (Stanley Andrews). The boys wish to hire Calamity to expose an illegal gun-smuggling operation near Buffalo Flats – an outpost on the frontier. In return they promise her full immunity from all past crimes. Begrudgingly, Calamity agrees to these terms and makes her journey to Port Deerfield to meet with her contact, Jim Hunter, posing as Hunter’s wife to join the settler’s trek. Alas, the mood turns grim when Calamity unearths Johnson’s secretary, Jasper Martin (Jackie Searl), is the brains behind the illegal operation. Calamity also finds Hunter dead, placing her in grave danger of being found out. Evading an assassination attempt, Calamity hitches a ride with Peter, a travelling dentist desperate to get out of town, having botched one too many surgeries. To avoid capture and provide her with the necessary camouflage, Calamity weds Peter on the fly. Only now, the gun smugglers also join the wagon train to expose the federal agent. Through a case of misdirection, the assassins come to believe Potter is their target.

After misguidedly wandering off into Indian territory, the settlers are forced to take refuge from an attack inside a log cabin. Locked out, a panicked Potter hides in a barrel and haphazardly discharges his pistol, unaware Calamity is actually the one dispatching with the Indian attackers; the sequence, suspiciously ‘lifted’ almost verbatim in John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) for the climactic duel between James Stewart and Lee Marvin. Instead, Potter is credited with saving the day. But this reinforces the smugglers' assumptions he is the man they have been sent to assassinate. Upon their arrival in Buffalo Flats, Calamity makes contact with Hank Billings (Clem Bevans), tasking him to locate the whereabouts of a dynamite stockpile. Meanwhile, Potter incurs the fury of ruthless gunslinger, Big Joe (Jeff York), culminating in a challenge and duel. Although Calamity views Potter’s imminent demise as the perfect cover, her conscience and empathy intrude, and she once more comes to his aid, falling in love with Potter in the process. Having learned the conspirators have hidden the dynamite in the local undertaker’s shop, Billings takes an arrow in the back and dies. Calamity sends Potter to the undertakers to investigate, but both are captured by the smugglers.  Now, Calamity finds Johnson, newly arrived with the rest of the weapons. To punish Potter for ‘killing’ his braves, the Indian’s medicine man (Henry Brandon) plans to have him torn to pieces, using a rigged contraption between two bent trees. Mercifully, it misfires and Potter is, instead, ejected beyond the forest, while the medicine man is banished from the tribe in disgrace. Returning to base camp, Potter and the medicine man meet again. Potter knocks him unconscious and steals his clothes for a disguise. In the ensuing ruckus, Potter frees Calamity and the couple, steal the wagon-full of dynamite with the smuggler’s in hot pursuit. At a most opportune moment, Potter drops a lit stick of dynamite and flees the wagon. The smugglers arrive and are blown to bits. Their mission accomplished, Calamity and Potter embark upon their honeymoon.

Until Blazing Saddles (1974), The Paleface was the highest-grossing western parody of all time, so popular, in fact, it was remade in 1968 as The Shakiest Gun in the West, starring Don Knotts. Although fictional, there was a real frontier dentist named Edgar ‘Painless’ Parker, who operated out of a horse-drawn office, promoting trouble-free tooth removal for 50-cents. Precisely how he achieved these results remains open for discussion, although it is rumored ole Ed plied his unsuspecting patrons with a cocaine solution prior to extractions – very ‘happy times’ indeed!  Although The Paleface rang registers around the world, co-writer, Frank Tashlin was not at all impressed with the results, claiming director, Norman Z. Leonard had completely botched his spoof of 1929’s The Virginian. Nevertheless, the movie cemented Bob Hope’s screen popularity with audiences. It also made Hope the originator of two Oscar-winning Best Original Songs – the first, ‘Thanks for The Memories’ from The Big Broadcast of 1938, and, ‘Buttons and Bows’ from The Paleface. The Paleface ranks among the best movies in Hope’s canon. Despite its premise, set in the great outdoors, the picture was shot mostly on sound stages at Paramount, employing cycloramas and rear projection to extend the illusion. Viewed today, The Paleface holds up remarkably well as a spirited western spoof, effectively to supplant the conventions of the Hollywood western. Bob Hope and costar, Jane Russell have wonderful chemistry – the kind that sells tickets and lights a little firecracker under the double entendre that makes even the hokiest of situations crackle with a little spit and sex talk. And if co-writer, Frank Tashlin was not at all impressed with the results, he could still chalk this one up in his ‘win’ column – a hoot and a howl with Hope and Russell throwing in everything but the towel.

The Paleface arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with Universal Home Video, the present-day custodians of the old Paramount library. Given Uni’s ugly little aversion to film restoration, The Paleface looks pretty spiffy in hi-def, with only mild and forgettable – if hardly forgivable – instances of Technicolor mis-registration. For the most part, the Technicolor her is rich and vibrant, with solid saturation and excellent flesh tones. The palette favors some deeply saturated azures in night skies, and blood reds for lipstick and costuming. Contrast is uniformly excellent, and there is even a light smattering of film grain looking indigenous to its source. Remember, Technicolor was a ‘grain-concealing’ process. Still, this looks fairly film-like. Age-related artifacts are rare, but do crop up intermittently. We get a nicely cleaned up 2.0 mono audio. Critic, Sergio Mims chimes in with some factoid fluff on Bob Hope, Jane Russell, director, Norman Z. McLeod and writer, Frank Tashlin. He also covers his bases on ‘political correctness’. Ho-hum. Aside: I really wish commentators on vintage movies would steer clear of ascribing/dissecting their own slant in contemporary analysis. You shouldn’t be judging art based on the criteria of the moment – because this changes from moment to moment – but rather, critiquing it within the grand narrative of history, and, the context of its own time and social climate.  We also get a few featurettes, barely 6 mins. on Hope entertaining the troops, plus his ‘Command Performance’ and Buttons and Bows sing-along, and a theatrical trailer.  Bottom line: The Paleface is a sheer delight, and so wonderful to finally have it in hi-def. There will never be another Bob Hope. God bless him ever more for the myriad of delights he favored us with throughout his lifetime. And yes, Bob – many sincere thanks for the memories. We thank you sooooooooooo, much!

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

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

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