FRANCIS - THE TALKING MULE COLLECTION: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1950-56) Kino Lorber

Insofar as one can have an affinity for stories about a man and his conversational donkey, Francis (a.k.a. - the Talking Mule, 1950), and its’ various sequels, were a cherished part of my childhood, the Universal-International franchise buoyed by bucolic bantering – supplied, in all but one movie, by the great character actor, Chill Wills, and, an exuberant and charm-filled performance from the ass’s human counterpart – again, in all but one movie, fielded by legendary song-and-dance man, Donald O’Connor. On these outings, Mr. O’Connor – alas, does not sing a note, nor does he dance a step. That said, his bearing is musical and his comedic timing, impeccable. At 24 when the franchise launched, O’Connor would appear in 6 of Francis’ 7 joyful outings, replaced by Mickey Rooney for the final installment, 1956’s Francis in the Haunted House (Francis, voiced by Solomon Hersh Frees – professionally known as ‘Paul Frees’ for that movie). Arguably, Universal was never a ‘forward thinking’ studio, especially after the Leammles departed the backlot. So, it is saying much of both the movie and the American mindset of its day, that Francis was the 11^th highest-grossing picture of the year.

Uni stalwart, Arthur Lubin (who had shaped the careers of another winning team at Universal - Abbott and Costello) was assigned the task of bringing this one to light. Lubin’s yen leaned toward light-hearted froth he preferred to bleak noir thrillers, then dominating at the box office. By Sept. 1948, the rights to David Stern’s popular novel had been secured independently by Lubin, who was dismayed when his alma mater showed little to zero interest in the property…at first. But then, story editor, Harold Robbins came on board, and with him, the big pitch to use the studio’s latest budding star, Donald O’Connor. Best of all, Robbins and Lubin gave the penny-pinchers what they wanted – the opportunity to make a cheap quota quickie. Uni advanced Lubin ten-grand for a test, and were enchanted by the results. Conspiring with screenwriter, Dorothy Davenport, Lubin and Robbins now had a financial stake in the picture’s outcome – the best of all possible advantages for their movie to succeed.

Francis embarks on its merry mayhem after a bank manager discovers one of his tellers, Peter Stirling (O’Connor) is attracting undue public scrutiny. To clarify the situation, we regress into an extended flashback. Now, Second Lieutenant Stirling is depicted behind enemy lines in Burma, rescued from certain death by Francis, an Army mule. Of course, no one believes Peter’s claim that the mule can talk. And so, Peter gets placed in the psychiatric ward. Upon his release, Peter performs valiant deeds at Francis’ behest, but, owing to his honest humility, to give Francis all the credit for his heroics, Peter keeps getting sent back for psychoanalysis and rehabilitation. By some miracle, Peter’s superior, General Stevens (John McIntire) begins to suspect his chronically hospitalized soldier just might be telling the truth. To prove his story, Peter begs Stevens to order Francis to speak. Alas, Francis is as stubborn as…well, you know…and will not comply under oath – that is, until it appears Peter will be charged with treason if Francis remains silent. During his first stay in hospital, Peter befriends French refugee, Maureen Gelder (Patricia Medina), whom he learns to trust and confides in her Francis’ unique abilities. Alas, a propaganda radio broadcast from Tokyo Rose paves the suspicion, Peter and Maureen are Japanese agents. The press is then informed that the ‘absurd’ mule story was a military ruse to flush out a spy, Francis revealing to all the mole in their midst. His secret exposed, Francis is scheduled to be sent home for military study. Mercifully, the transport crash lands in Kentucky, allowing for a clever escape. Sometime later, Peter seeks out Francis, whom he agrees to harbor as his friend.

Made in just 15 days, the unanticipated success of Francis, the talking mule, resulted in Universal-International’s immediate plans for a follow-up. Promoting their new find with a 7-year contract, the studio assigned its four-legged star a make-up man, trainer, hairdresser, and sanitary engineer – star treatment, indeed! Initially budgeted at $580,000, Francis went over by $42,000, $30,000 paid its human counterpart – Donald O’Connor.  Another $60,000 went to David Stern, author of the Francis novel, for what Universal deemed as rights and privileges to use the character as they pleased, for TV, radio, film and commercial endorsements – also, to exploit whatever future Francis’ novels Stern might write to continue their film-making franchise. The studio had hoped to immediately jump into Francis Goes to Washington, the second of Stern’s books. Regrettably, the logistics of a Washington shoot were quashed and the picture never came to fruition. Instead, it was announced that Francis Goes to the Races (1951) would be the first sequel, shot mostly in and around Santa Anita racetrack to soak up the local color and excitement of horseracing.

Francis Goes to the Races is a charming film. After being fired from his job, Peter sets out to find gainful employment. Francis, however, decides to follow Sir Gallant, a champion racehorse who happens to be his distant relative. As Peter refuses to give up his ‘best friend’, the pair arrive at the stables of Colonel Travers (Cecil Kellaway) and his granddaughter, Frances (Piper Laurie) Sensing a budding romance between Frances and Peter, Francis guides Peter into offering the correct diagnosis for Traver’s ailing horse, Betsy Sue. Oddly, Francis tries to shed himself of Peter, but then decides the best way he can help him is by offering racing tips that will allow Peter to win a lot of money. Despite their doubts, the Travers follow Peter’s advice and bet on the winning horse. Track investigators smell a rat, but are unable to shake Peter from his believe he acquired the insider’s intel from his talking mule. Clearly, the boy has beginner’s luck and a real problem dealing with reality. Travers, however, believes Peter has a gift for consorting with horses and hires him to help Sir Gallant race, thus to spare their farm from foreclosure.

Regrettably, mob boss, Square Deal Mallory (Barry Kelley) calls in his loan from Travers, confiscating all of his prized ponies, including Sir Gallant. Disheartened, Travers quits the business. But Frances encourages Peter to buy back Sir Gallant with her $25,000 savings. Too bad, Peter cannot recognize it when Mallory sells him Sir Gallant's sister, Oakwood Gal in lieu of the real deal. Now, Travers and Frances suspect Peter is in cahoots with Mallory. Again, it is Francis to the rescue, tipping off Peter to all of the next day's racing winners before the races actually happen. Peter’s winnings are given back to Travers as proof he has always been honest in his intentions. But Peter’s uninterrupted lucky streak draws undue attention from the police and Mallory, both of whom suspect Peter has an illegal informant. Mallory forces Peter to place bets for him, while refusing to allow him to consort with Francis. The net result is Peter loses all of Mallory’s money, but is ‘forgiven’ by the mobster who, upon learning of Peter’s belief in Francis to predict the races, clearly thinks the boy is crazy. That night, Francis gets drunk on some stable hand’s liquor. His loud singing causes Travers to discover the truth. Travers now asks Francis to diagnose Oakwood Gal, and after Francis counsels her, she becomes a champion runner. Mallory sends his goons to foil Oakwood Gal’s chances by cutting her tendon. Francis telephones the police and is wounded by Mallory’s boys, but recovers just in time to convince Sir Gallant to allow his sister to win the race. Racetrack officials assume Peter has fixed the race, an assumption quashed when Frances brings Francis to the forefront and the mule – at last – speaks his mind.

Frances Goes to the Races was barely in the can when Universal put its screenwriter, Oscar Brodney to work on yet another follow-up: Francis Goes to West Point (1952). This time around, the shenanigans centered on Peter’s employment at a U.S. atomic defense plant, targeted by terrorists. Working off another tip from Francis, Peter informs the police of a plot to bomb the plant. At first, the police believe he is a nut. But then, Peter implores them to take a closer inspection of a newly arrived water truck, which turns out to be filled with a highly explosive chemical. Peter is hailed a hero. Despite his diminutive stature and intellect, Peter is presented at West Point Academy – a dream of his – where he befriends footballer, William Norton (Palmer Lee) and Wilbur Van Allen (William Reynolds), the son of a tough-as-nails General. Peter, alas, proves a poor student. After his grade point plummets, Peter is informed he has barely two weeks to improve or be expelled.  Now, Francis begins to tutor Peter. Too bad, rival cadet, Corporal Ransom (James Best) goads Peter into revealing Francis has been helping him along.  Peter is given 6-weeks walking duty. However, this turns out to the good, as Cynthia (Alice Kelley), daughter of Col. Daniels (Les Tremayne) learns that while her parents are keen for her to become involved with Van Allen, he is stuck on his long-time love, Barbara Atwood (Lori Nelson). After Francis' barked orders to Peter cause chaos at the revue, Cynthia and Peter flirt. But this only compounds his punishment. Later, at a dance social, plebes ride a costumed Francis into the dance hall – once more, foiling Peter’s chances at true love.

Again, Peter bears the brunt of Francis’ actions. The plebes graduate. Norton becomes their all-star footballer after Francis whispers winning instructions into Coach Chadwick's (Otto Hulett) ear. Not long thereafter, Van Allen receives a letter from his sister, informing him of her pregnancy and secret marriage. Van Allen decides to disclose his love for Barbara, and so leaves for home, over Norton's objections. Now for the misdirection: finding the letter on Norton’s bed, Peter assumes he is secretly wed and expecting. After two officers overhear Barbara talking to Norton about the secret marriage of one of his roommates, Peter, believing he is saving Norton’s future and reputation, magnanimously offers himself up as the secretly married roommate. Francis convinces the Colonel to hold off on accepting Peter’s resignation from West Point. Cynthia reveals to her father, the letter belonged to Van Allen. The next afternoon, a forlorn Peter listens to the big broadcast of the football game, dismayed to learn Norton is performing poorly out of concern for him. At halftime, Norton thanks Peter for trying to shield his reputation. Coach Chadwick brings in Francis who advises the team onto victory. Colonel Daniels intends to have Francis shipped away for research and study, but Francis does a bait and switch with another mule, bidding Peter farewell.

Likely, screenwriter, Oscar Brodney considered this the end of the line for the Francis franchise. Except Universal could not leave well enough alone. The studio’s entire modus operandi during the forties and well into the fifties was to flood the market with serialized movie programming. And so, Francis Covers the Big Town (1953) came hot on the heels of its predecessor. Herein, Peter’s plans to ply his background as a reporter for New York’s Daily Record backfire when he is hired only as their janitor. Once again, Francis takes up Peter’s cause, gathering intel from the various police horses around town.  Apparently well-connected, Peter is promoted to copy boy, garnering a crush on sophisticated Alberta Ames (Nancy Guild), to whom he feeds gossip, gleaned from Francis for Ames to publish in her society column. Soon, Peter becomes the ‘go to’ of all the reporters. At his home, Peter fails to recognize his next-door neighbor, Maria Scola (Yvette Dugay) is desperately in love with him. Instead, he plots to win Alberta’s affections, much to Francis’ disgust. Alberta is not interested in Peter – only his sources. When Peter naively confides Francis as his source, Alberta slaps his face.

Francis forewarns of disaster. The next morning, police Inspector Hansen (William Harrigan) and District Attorney Evans (Gale Gordon) meet with the Daily’s managing editor, Tom Henderson (Gene Lockhart), prompted by their outrage over an article published by reporter, Dan Austin (Larry Gates) on a tip-off from Peter, inferring corruption in their offices.  Peter’s ill-timed demands for a promotion get him fired, a reversal of fortune overdue when Austin exposes Peter as his source, and Peter follows through by identifying a killer, winning Henderson’s respect. From here, the story follows a very familiar trajectory. Peter reveals Francis as his source, leading to yet another stay in the sanitarium. This is followed by a bit of misdirection where police yet again suspect Peter of being involved in the crimes at hand, and then, when Peter exonerates himself via Francis’ auspices, getting chucked back in the psyche ward for another re-re-re-evaluation.

Henderson, however, is ever-impressed with Peter’s clairvoyance, regardless of his source, and allows him to prosper at the paper. Peter and Maria begin a fond attraction, momentarily foiled when ruffians knock down her father, Salvatore’s (Silvio Minciotti) vegetable stand. Now, big-time hood, Jefferson Garnett (Lowell Gilmore) sets his ex, Alberta to find out the truth about Peter. Still believing Alberta is interested in him, Peter dumps Maria yet again. Depressed, Maria is counseled by Francis on how to dress like a looker. Meanwhile, Garnett charms Peter to reveal Francis as his source. The two arrive at the barn. Only Francis is not there and Garnett, believing he has been had, attacks Peter. Mercifully, someone shoots Garnett. Regrettably, Peter picks up the discarded weapon and is charged with murder. At trial, everyone believes Peter is guilty until Francis arrives to give his testimony. Furthermore, Francis offers to ensnare the killer by nightfall. Together with Peter, Maria, and the police, Francis acts as a decoy to draw out the real killer – none other than Austin, who was trying to blackmail Garnett. Exonerated of the crime of murder, Peter falls for Maria’s new look and Francis confesses he will not be leaving anytime soon, already smitten with a lady zebra.

Owing to the franchise’s wild popularity, Universal splurged for 10-days shoot in New York, with Francis ported over by cargo plane at a cost of $700, plus airfare and the pay necessary for his wranglers on the scene. Oscar Brodney conspired with David Stern on the, by now, somewhat formulaic screenplay that nevertheless brought audiences into theaters yet again for another fun-filled outing. Perhaps the only one dissatisfied with the results was director, Arthur Lubin, who yearned for the opportunity to make ‘other kinds’ of pictures. The last three pictures varyingly represent a franchise already in subtle decline. First of the finales, Francis Joins the WACS (1954) found Peter mistakenly assigned as a junior officer with the Women’s Army Corp. Donald O’Connor expressed his reservations about partaking of such an idiotic plot, but was aware he had one more commitment before his iron-clad studio contract expired. He was also acutely mindful of how much the Francis series meant to his daughter. And, studio head, Edward Muhl was not unkind in his financial inducement either. So, while the screenplay to Francis Joins the WACS was adequate, it hardly exemplified the best of the series. A year later, and following the established formula Uni had perfected with Abbott and Costello, Peter and Francis were at it again, exercising their patriotic duty for another branch of the American Armed Forces - this time with Francis in the Navy (1955), a picture only noteworthy for the second on-camera appearance of future Hollywood legend, Clint Eastwood.

Pointlessly complicated in its convoluted storytelling, and half as amusing as its previous ventures, Francis in the Navy marked Donald O’Connor’s final outing as the long-suffering Peter Stirling. Aware O’Connor would not be returning to the franchise for any amount of money, as his star had steadily risen in other fare around town, especially since his supportive turns in a trio of very high-profile musicals - Singin’ in the Rain (1952), Call Me Madam (1953) and There’s No Business Like Show Business (1954) – had fully exercised the breadth of his formidable talents, it was eventually announced Francis in the Haunted House (1956) would costar, Mickey Rooney as David Prescott, with Paul Frees inexplicably taking over the vocal dubbing for Francis after it was rumored Chill Wills wanted more money than Universal was willing to pay, and, with Charles Lamont assuming the director’s chair from Arthur Lubin. There is just no getting around it: Francis in the Haunted House is the weakest of the sequels, embroiling Francis and David in a murder mystery for an inheritance, but only if they spend the night in a spooky, rundown mansion on the outskirts of town…stop me if you’ve heard this one before. And while Rooney managed to rekindle something of the chemistry between a man and his mule, his naïve interpretation of his own part, long after the physical appeal of his Andy Hardy-esque performances had worn thin, made for some truly uncomfortable moments throughout this heavily cliché caper.

Created without virtually any of the franchise’s alumni in place, perhaps in the studio’s colorless attempt to turn a different creative corner while still keeping the franchise alive, Francis in the Haunted House instead sounded the death knell for the series, and, for good reason. The picture is awash in stock Universal chestnuts that, by 1950 were already pretty pedestrian, and by 1956, unequivocally illustrated just how uninspired and safe studio management was, in playing their cards very close to their chests. Make it cheap. Hope it makes money. And if it doesn’t, axe the people who made it. Retrospectively, the entire Francis franchise was never a creatively forward-thinking series. Indeed, even by early fifties’ standards, all of the films here play more like quaintly reminisced screwball comedies from the late 1930’s – Universal, somehow having overlooked the passage of an entire decade’s worth of more progressively dark movies looming on the horizon. Antiseptic to a fault, yet, for the most part, undeniably enjoyable in all their silliness, the idea of a man and his talking beast would later be resurrected with uncanny similarities to Francis, as TV’s Mr. Ed (1961-66) where, of course, a horse took the place of a mule, otherwise, similarly to follow the trajectory in misadventures for a staggering 143 episodes.  

The charm of Francis is greatly owed veteran character actor, Chill Wills whose Western twang, coupled with Brodney’s skillfully sardonic wit, remains infectiously appealing. Interestingly, Francis – a male vocally, was actually a female, physically – Molly the mule, arguably, the first transgender farm animal in movie history. And now, Francis marks his/her debut in hi-def – newly remastered in 2K. Owing to the scant runtime of these B-serials, Kino Lorber has housed 2 movies on the first 2 discs in this set and the 3 remaining features on a final disc, mercifully without any noticeable compression issues. The movies are featured in sequential order. How do they look? Pretty good. Universal has clearly spent some time and a little money readying these for Blu-ray. Six of the seven B&W features are solid. Alas, the first is in the roughest condition, with age-related damage abounding. It also appears to have been sourced from a dupe or second-generation print, looking very soft. The first 5 movies were shot in 1.37:1. The fourth arrived in 2.00:1 while the last was in 1.85:1. Uni has preserved all of these varying formats. Better still, most of the image quality is well above par and consistently rendered. Image clarity is fairly impressive elsewhere and age-related artifacts, while present, are not intolerable. Kino has ported over all of the audio commentaries that once accompanied Uni’s DVD set. On Francis, we get the good stuff from historian, Lee Gambin, and, on the next two movies, quality reflections from Eddy Von Mueller. To be fair, Toby Roan makes the most out of ‘West Point’, and Stephen Vagg does justice to ‘The Big Town’. The commentaries get thinner on ‘WACS’ and ‘Navy’, with Gambin joined by author, Staci Layne Wilson. There is no commentary for ‘Haunted House’, presumably, because there’s just not that much to say. It’s the series’ swan song. Enough said. We get trailers for all the movies. Bottom line: Francis and its sequels won’t win any awards for ‘high art’. That said, they remain highly enjoyable/disposable film fare suitable for a wink and a smile – a nod to simpler times with simpler folk still and movie-land fluff to amuse and leave us considerably warmed in the heart. Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray set is competently rendered and well worth your coin. Don’t ask. Just enjoy.

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

Francis (1950) a.k.a. Francis the Talking Mule - 4

Francis Goes to the Races (1951) - 4

Francis Goes to West Point (1952) – 3.5

Francis Covers the Big Town (1953) - 3

Francis Joins the WACS (1954) – 2.5

Francis in the Navy (1955) – 2.5

Francis in the Haunted House (1956) – 2

VIDEO/AUDIO

Overall – 4

EXTRAS

3.5