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 11th 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
Comments