CMBA Fall Blogathon 2025: Horrors of the Colonized Body and Soul in THE MUMMY (1932)

This post is part of the CMBA Fall Blogathon for 2025, showcasing Early Shadows & Pre-Code Horror. Find more blogathon posts by visiting the CMBA website!

When we think about body horror as a subgenre, we usually imagine the gruesomely detailed visual images of more modern movies like Eraserhead (1977), The Thing (1982), or The Fly (1986), which have their ardent fans but are sometimes too stomach-turning for those who prefer the subtler thrills of classic horror. Silent and Pre-Code horror does, however, include many examples of body horror, from the contortions of Lon Chaney in The Unknown (1927) and the tortured face of Conrad Veidt in The Man Who Laughs (1928) to the inhabitants of Island of Lost Souls (1932) and the circus performers of Freaks (1932). These early films could get away with more provocative forms of horror than those arriving after the Hays Code cracked down in 1934, and they often use that freedom to great effect. It's striking, therefore, that Universal's The Mummy (1932) only suggests its most extreme bodily suffering in flashes, leaving viewers to imagine the extent of horrors implied but unexplored. What we actually see of Imhotep, the titular mummy, is filtered mainly through the perspectives of European characters whose sense of him as an unnatural Eastern/Other denies his humanity, but when we shift our point of view to Imhotep himself we begin to grasp the full horror of his situation and experience.

Boris Karloff stars as the undead Imhotep/Ardath Bey.

Our colonialist perspective of Egypt is formed by the way the story opens and unfolds, with British archeologists uncovering the tomb of the priest Imhotep (Boris Karloff) in 1921 and then unintentionally waking him. While they speculate about the crimes that might have warranted Imhotep's unusual burial, they don't express much sympathy for him as a human being who clearly suffered an awful fate. When Imhotep wakes, his appearance alone is enough to drive Ralph Norton (Bramwell Fletcher) mad, even though the mummy doesn't lay a hand on him. A decade later, we catch up with the Europeans back in Egypt, this time uncovering the tomb of Princess Ankh-es-en-Amon (Zita Johann) with the help of the mysterious Ardath Bey, whom they fail to recognize as Imhotep himself. Despite warnings about the supernatural from Dr. Muller (Edward Van Sloan), Sir Joseph Whemple (Arthur Byron) and his son, Frank (David Manners), only understand Egypt as a subject, both academic and colonial, and they recognize its power as manifested through Imhotep too late. Ultimately, of course, Imhotep is destroyed, and the half-Egyptian Helen (also Zita Johann) is saved from his clutches, but the story ends without any denouement that might articulate the meaning of the tale we've just seen.

Much of the plot of The Mummy is recycled from Dracula (1931), a narrative with its own preoccupations with British imperialism and the Eastern Other, but transferring the story to Egypt makes those tensions much more overt. The film lets them bubble to the surface in ways that undermine the "official" perspective being shaped by the modern Europeans. Dr. Muller warns his English friends to respect the ancient culture they are pillaging, but Sir Joseph doesn't listen. Ardath Bey bitterly comments on his inability to excavate the princess himself because only foreigners are allowed to do so, while Frank complains about being forced to keep his find in Egypt instead of whisking it away to London. Helen, caught between the two worlds and wrestling with the awakened soul of Ankh-es-en-Amon inside her, laments the modernity of Cairo in the twentieth century and yearns for the "real" Egypt of the past. There's no denouement when Imhotep is destroyed because it's only through the power of his own world, and Helen's invocation of the ancient goddess Isis, that he is defeated at all. Dr. Muller and Frank have nothing to do with it, and they serve merely as spectators, not heroes, in the final scene. We get no sense that Frank has ever understood any of the events that have transpired, but Helen might really be changed by her experience, so their success as a romantic pair is left uncertain. The ending, however, implies that Helen will be absorbed into English whiteness through marriage to Frank, erasing her past identity as Ankh-es-en-Amon and the Egyptian heritage passed to her from her (dead) mother. 

Imhotep prepares to make Helen undead like himself.

 

Through these pressure points and gaps Imhotep himself is constantly breaking, demanding that Helen and the viewer see him differently, as a very human man whose love for her has caused him to suffer unspeakable horror. We first see him as a dead thing, the gleam in his dark eyes signalling his rise to embodied consciousness after thousands of years. We don't know what happens to him during the decade before the Whemples return to Egypt, but somehow he reforms himself into a semblance of a living man, learns English and, presumably, Arabic, as well, and manages to survive in a twentieth-century Egypt that is utterly alien to him. As Ardath Bey, he's a remarkable figure, thin, stiff, and seemingly fragile, with skin still desiccated and features sunken. Sometimes mummies in horror films are presented as little more than wrapped zombies, mindless and shuffling, but Imhotep is a fully aware human being trapped inside a mummified body, a living soul yoked to a dried up corpse. He reveals to Helen the transgressions that led to this fate, hoping to awaken her own memories of their forbidden love. Unable to accept the death of the princess, Imhotep defied the gods by attempting to resurrect her, but he was caught and punished by being buried alive. We are shown the torture Imhotep endured as, fully conscious and struggling, he was wrapped as a mummy and thrown into his sarcophagus. We don't see his actual death by asphyxiation as his coffin ran out of air, but his last moments must have been utterly terrifying, unable to move, see, or even scream. Imagine then his horror on returning to consciousness in his own corpse, an outcast from both the living and the dead. Obsessed with his beloved when he was alive, condemned to eternal suffering for her sake, and tortured by his own decayed flesh, Imhotep is almost certainly insane, but he is determined to be seen by Helen/Ankh-es-en-Amon as a man who has endured horrors for her love, and not as a thing without a human soul. 

When we consider Imhotep as a man and not a thing, we become aware of the scope of the bodily horror he experiences. The Mummy doesn't dwell at length on the horror of Imhotep being a living soul inside a dead body, but it's present in Boris Karloff's physical performance and the anguish his character reveals only to Helen. Dracula might be undead, but his body is not a dry husk, while zombies are usually shown as animated corpses that lack self-awareness. Imhotep has the worse of both curses; he has the consciousness of a living man but exists in a mummified corpse. A more fully developed exploration of this theme can be found in Roger Corman's adaptation of the Poe short story, "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar," in Tales of Terror (1962), in which Vincent Price plays a dead man forced to continue to inhabit his decaying corpse by a sadistic hypnotist (Basil Rathbone), while the horror of a man who finds himself made monstrous dominates stories like The Wolf Man (1941) and The Fly (1958). In The Mummy, the horrific nature of Imhotep's existence is suggested most strongly in the third act, when Imhotep seeks to seduce or force Helen into sharing his fate. "No man ever suffered as I did for you," he tells her, hoping to convince her to "face moments of horror for an eternity of love." Even as her awareness shifts to that of the princess, Helen still recognizes the nightmarish nature of the immortality Imhotep wants her to embrace. She recoils when she see the flaky print of Imhotep's hand on a table, realizing that instead of "moments of horror"Imhotep wants her soul to exist forever trapped inside a dead and mummified body like his own. "I loved you once," she tells him, "but now you belong with the dead." The worst part of the gods' curse isn't just that Imhotep must animate his own dried corpse, but that he finally suffers rejection from the woman for whom he endured such a monstrous fate. 

The complexity underlying The Mummy has made it particularly ripe for sequels and revisions, although most later mummy movies fail to invest the supernatural character with Imhotep's gravitas and emotional depth, thus continuing to obscure the idea of the mummy as a figure of body horror. Vampires and werewolves have gotten better treatment in films like An American Werewolf in London (1981), The Lost Boys (1987), and Blade (1998), but the mummy's unique identity as ancient and Egyptian still makes it harder for us to imagine the mummy as an actual person instead of a thing. For some of the more interesting later takes on the monster, see the 1959 Hammer remake or the 1999 reboot directed by Stephen Sommers (both also titled The Mummy), the latter of which really does highlight the body horror aspects of Imhotep's live burial, if not his subsequent supernatural existence.

 See also: 12 Mummy Movies Worth Watching 

Classic Films in Focus: THE MUMMY'S HAND (1940)

Cult Classics: THE FOG (1980)

Horror movies got much gorier after the advent of the slasher, and the most iconic chillers of the 1980s tend to lean into that genre and its enthusiasm for arterial spray, but John Carpenter's The Fog (1980) is an atmospheric throwback to the subtler style of horror master Val Lewton, the hands-on producer (and often uncredited writer) behind moody RKO masterpieces like Cat People (1942) and I Walked with a Zombie (1943). The Fog is a very different picture from other Carpenter projects like Halloween (1978), The Thing (1982), and They Live (1988), which is the reason it's one of my favorite movies from the director's oeuvre. Fans of eerie but bloodless classic horror will find a lot to appreciate in the way this movie unfolds its tale of long-simmering supernatural revenge, and those looking for more female-led stories will enjoy the emphasis on Adrienne Barbeau as the DJ heroine with Jamie Lee Curtis and her mother, Janet Leigh, also playing major roles.

Barbeau leads as Stevie Wayne, a late-night DJ in the town of Antonio Bay. Stevie's overnight shifts in a lighthouse allow her to witness and report the arrival of a mysterious fog that coincides with the disappearance of three local fishermen, including the husband of town mayor Kathy Williams (Janet Leigh). As the coastal California town prepares to celebrate its centennial, the local priest, Father Patrick Malone (Hal Holbrook), discovers his grandfather's diary and learns that a cabal of six founders started the community with a shocking act of betrayal, which is now literally coming back to haunt the townspeople on the hundredth anniversary of the crime. Meanwhile, hitchhiker Elizabeth (Jamie Lee Curtis) gets a ride into Antonio Bay with town resident Nick (Tom Atkins), and their efforts to find out what happened to the fishermen lead them to numerous close encounters with the supernatural threat.

Despite reshoots that bowed to the increasing expectation for gory ghosts and peril, The Fog remains a classic haunt at its core, with the eerie titular fog getting a lot more screen time than the spectral mariners. The opening campfire tale, also a late addition, sets the mood with John Houseman telling a group of children about the wreck of the Elizabeth Dane, a ship carrying a colony of leprosy victims to the bay. Between the introductory ghost story and the diary found by Father Malone, we know pretty much everything we need to know about why these murderous spirits are emerging from the fog to avenge themselves a century later. The fog and its ghosts are not so much mysterious as they are unstoppable, a conjoined force of fate that moves at its own pace, slowly but surely descending on Antonio Bay until the town's debt is fully paid. The goriest scenes happen early, with the murders of the fishermen and the subsequent discovery of just one corpse by Elizabeth and Nick, but these are pretty tame compared to Jaws (1975) or other horror films of the era, and mostly the mariners are shadowy figures who drag their victims away into the fog. John Carpenter has talked about his desire to make a movie inspired by Val Lewton's subtle but chilling horror classics (see this 2022 Collider article for more on that), and it's easy to see their influence even after the additions meant to appeal to the horror-going audiences of 1980.

While I love the Lewton-inspired atmosphere of The Fog, I also appreciate its commitment to agency and variety for its female characters. Co-writers Carpenter and Debra Hill offer us more women than men as our central characters, with Carpenter's wife at the time, Adrienne Barbeau, in heroic mode as a single mother who strives to protect the community and also find a way to save her young son as the fog closes in on him and his elderly babysitter. In a different horror movie, Jamie Lee Curtis's hitchhiking Elizabeth might be condemned to a gory death in her underwear, but instead she's smart, empathetic, and able to recover quickly from each close call. Janet Leigh doesn't have any scenes with her daughter until the third act, but her character is also presented as a fully realized individual, and despite her small town political status she's far more likeable than the mayor in Jaws. She's prickly with her assistant but grateful for her all the same, and she strives to forge ahead in her mayoral duties even as she worries about her missing husband. The two male leads, Hal Holbrook and Tom Atkins, seem perfectly comfortable with their female costars, and their characters both eschew the casual sexism exhibited by the fishermen and weatherman Dan O'Bannon (Charles Cyphers). Not every character who gets killed by the ghosts deserves that fate, but the picture doesn't see women as obvious victims just because they're women, and several of the male victims give us little reason to mourn their loss.

For more great ghost stories, try The Uninvited (1944), The Haunting (1963), The Changeling (1980),  and Lady in White (1988). Adrienne Barbeau also appears in Carpenter's Escape from New York (1981), Wes Craven's Swamp Thing (1982), and George A. Romero's Creepshow (1982). Jamie Lee Curtis became an iconic scream queen in the 1980s thanks to films like The Fog, the Halloween series, and Prom Night (1980), but over the decades she has proven herself a versatile actress and great comedic star, eventually winning an Academy Award for her role in Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022). Her mother, Janet Leigh, is of course best remembered for Psycho (1960). For my other favorite John Carpenter movies, see Escape from New York, Christine (1983), and Big Trouble in Little China (1986). 

As of October 2025, you can watch a wide range of John Carpenter films on the Criterion Channel, which is celebrating the director with a curated collection of his work. 

See also: "Hogarthian Gothic: Imagining the Madhouse in Val Lewton's BEDLAM" 

Classic Films in Focus: BUGSY MALONE (1976)

Written and directed by Alan Parker, Bugsy Malone (1976) is certainly a cinematic oddity, with an all-kid ensemble spoofing the 1930s gangster movie while dancing and lip-syncing to tunes by Paul Williams. Its cast includes familiar stars Jodie Foster and Scott Baio as well as some talented youngsters who did not become particularly well-known but still deserve mention, especially John Cassisi, Florrie Dugger, and Martin Lev as the other main characters. While the use of adult voices for the dubbed song performances hasn't aged well, Bugsy Malone is still weirdly charming almost 50 years after its original release, and kids who enjoy Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) and Annie (1982) will probably get a kick out of it even if they don't recognize its send-up of classic gangster pictures like Little Caesar (1931), The Public Enemy (1931), and Scarface (1932).

Scott Baio plays the titular Bugsy, who is drawn into a turf war between the rival gangs of Fat Sam (John Cassisi) and Dandy Dan (Martin Lev) thanks to his friendship with Fat Sam and his need for cash to win the love of aspiring movie star Blousey Brown (Florrie Dugger). Fat Sam's star singer and girlfriend, Tallulah (Jodie Foster), complicates Bugsy's romance with Blousey, but the gang war is the bigger problem with a new gun that fires cream pie topping at targets much faster than the traditional crust pies. Fat Sam's guys are being hit with whipped cream left and right, and it's up to Bugsy to round up enough support to face off with Dandy Dan.

As the cream pie guns suggest, this is a very silly movie that rewrites the tropes of the classic gangster story for an entirely kid-sized world. The success of The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974) almost certainly contributed to the appeal of the project when Parker came up with it, with gangsters back in the public imagination and Young Frankenstein (1974) demonstrating an appetite for unusual spoofs of classic genres. In addition to the cream pies replacing bullets, Bugsy Malone has adorably detailed pedal cars decked out to look like 1930s automobiles, sarsaparilla instead of booze, and guards in baseball uniforms wielding bats. In keeping with the original hits of the gangster genre, we have a speakeasy with its chorus girls and piano players, phone booth shenanigans, Italian restaurants, and Dandy Dan living in full 1930s splendor, complete with an estate that would make Charles Foster Kane or Howard Hughes feel at home. The child actors never mug for the camera or overplay their lines the way they do on a lot of modern kids' TV fare; they play their characters like they're 1930s stars reincarnated in 12 year old bodies, with Jodie Foster and Martin Lev both especially adept at inhabiting their roles. Their seriousness keeps the gimmick of an all-child cast from becoming too annoying for adults to enjoy, even as the absurdity of the whole concept permeates every scene.

The musical element of the picture is a mixed bag, with brilliant dance numbers undercut by the way the songs are performed. I'm a great fan of Paul Williams' cinematic work, especially the cult masterpiece, Phantom of the Paradise (1974), but in Bugsy Malone it's distracting to hear the voices of Williams and other adult singers coming out of the mouths of the young stars. The songs themselves are often quite good, and the ensemble dance sequences are really well done, but you might or might not find the dubbing a deal breaker, depending on your response to the movie as a whole. Some of the more memorable songs include "Bugsy Malone," "Fat Sam's Grand Slam," and "My Name is Tallulah," while the chorus girls and Sam's gang ( particularly in the number "Bad Guys") do some of the most impressive dancing. Williams' work on the picture earned an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song Score, so the dubbing did not prevent his work as a songwriter from being appreciated at the time of the film's original release.

Jodie Foster, of course, also starred in Taxi Driver (1976) that same year and was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her performance; she would go on to win Best Actress Oscars for The Accused (1989) and The Silence of the Lambs (1992). Scott Baio made his big screen debut as Bugsy but is probably best known for his roles on the TV series Happy Days and Charles in Charge. For more movie music from Paul Williams, you can't go wrong with The Muppet Movie (1979), and for more musicals from director Alan Parker, see Fame (1980), Pink Floyd - The Wall (1982), The Commitments (1991), and Evita (1996). If you enjoy gangster spoofs, check out the 1984 comedy Johnny Dangerously, starring Michael Keaton.

Classic Movie Monsters Inspire Sparkytopia Art

As a parent and a classic movie fan, it's deeply gratifying when your love for something gets passed on to a new generation. That's why I'm so excited to be interviewing my own kid for this post! Sparky has grown up watching me talk and write about old movies, literature, and popular culture, so I'm always delighted to see those influences in their work as a professional freelance illustrator. Recently, I was able to sit down with them for an interview about their deep love for classic movie monsters and how that inspiration appears in their art. 

While I hope you'll enjoy learning about Sparky's art, I also hope this post will encourage you to share your favorite classic movies with the young people in your life. You never know which ones will click with them and become inspiration for them in the future! You can also learn more about Sparkytopia at their website.

Q: Tell us a little bit about your background as an artist.

I graduated from Ringling College of Art and Design in 2023 with a BFA in Illustration, but I've been drawing for as long as I can remember! In the past two years, I've mostly focused on growing my artistic brand online by offering commissions to individual clients and creating merchandise for my store. I tend to lean towards cute, approachable themes, usually featuring animal characters and bright colors to capture a little childhood nostalgia in every piece.

Q: What inspired you to create art featuring animal versions of classic movie monsters?

I have always been a big fan of classic movie monsters; there's something so traditionally Halloween-y about them! Halloween is also my favorite holiday, so I always jump at the chance to do something spooky for the season. I've been doodling them in my spare time for years, so it was only a matter of time before I worked up something finished to add to my shop designs. It would've been a bit strange to do human characters next to all of my original stickers, so combining classic monster themes with cute animals was a good way to render them in my style. 

Q: Do you have some favorite classic monster movies or a favorite monster? What do you love about them?

I am personally fond of the tragedy of The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). I love him dearly, and The Shape of Water (2017) only made me have more feelings about gill men. I find myself yearning to love them as they truly deserve! He's such a fantastic piece of special effects, but it makes it difficult to draw him in a way that pays homage to his original design and reflects my personal style. I do really enjoy Frankenstein (1931), but I have to say I prefer the book's representation of the monster more than the film's, even if Boris Karloff is absolutely iconic. 

 

 

Q: Do you have a favorite monster-inspired piece from the work you've done so far? Are there any particular elements that you're especially proud of in that piece?

To my surprise, my favorite is King Tutankhanyan, my mummy character! I didn't expect to love him as much as I do, but I put a lot of time and effort into both the character and shirt designs. The fact that he's specifically a sphynx cat helps elevate him into a more unique character, so he feels a lot more like my little guy and not just a generic mummy. It was a challenge to hand-letter the accurate hieroglyphics on his shirt design, but I think it was all worth it!

Q: Are there other monsters or movie-inspired characters you still want to celebrate with future art projects?

I intend to create a Bride for my existing Puppystein's Monster design. I can't let the lady ghouls go unrepresented! I have some sketches made for an Invisible Man, even if I worry he's a little niche compared to the other monsters. I would still love to do a gill man, but I just haven't found the right vision for him yet! In the distant future, it would be nice to have more drawings of each of my preexisting monsters hanging out together, but I'd like to expand the roster a little before I let them exist in a proper shared universe. I hope you're looking forward to what's to come!

Sparkytopia art is available in their shops on Ko-fi and Threadless. 

You can follow Sparkytopia on Instagram, Bluesky, Tumblr, and numerous other social media platforms. 

Classic Films in Focus: MYSTERY STREET (1950)

The visual and narrative style of Mystery Street (1950) will be familiar to anyone who watches modern police procedurals on television, especially shows that feature a lot of forensic analysis of corpses and crime scenes. Those looking for the intensity of top-shelf crime pictures will probably be disappointed, even with John Sturges in the director's chair and Ricardo Montalbán taking the lead as the police detective trying to catch a young woman's murderer. Still, the picture has its charms, especially for fans of the great Elsa Lanchester and those who really appreciate the piece-by-piece and bone-by-bone puzzle solving of forensic crime shows like Bones and the many iterations of CSI. 

Ricardo Montalbán stars as Lieutenant Peter Moralas, a police detective working in Cape Cod and Boston to solve the murder of Vivian Heldon (Jan Sterling), whose skeletal remains are found months after she is last seen with a very drunk Henry Shanway (Marshall Thompson). With only bones to examine at first, Moralas turns to Dr. McAdoo (Bruce Bennett), a Harvard forensics expert, for help in identifying the body and building a case to find her killer. Henry's wife, Grace (Sally Forrest), persists in believing in his innocence even as evidence against Henry mounts, while Vivian's shady landlady, Mrs. Smerrling (Elsa Lanchester), tries to blackmail the real killer, a wealthy family man named James Harkley (Edmon Ryan).

It's not a spoiler to reveal the identity of the murderer because the movie does that in its opening, which shows us the events of the night Vivian dies and makes it clear that Henry is innocent. Thus, the audience always knows what Moralas and his associates are trying to learn, and the suspense lies in our concern that the cops will pin the crime on the wrong man. We have the completed puzzle in front of us, while the detectives have to find and try to fit each piece, and we can see how they get it wrong as they rush to convict the most obvious suspect. While Moralas tears apart the lives of the young couple, who are still grieving the child Grace miscarried on the night of the murder, we watch the crafty Mrs. Smerrling put the truth together like a blackmailing Miss Marple, but she has no interest in sharing her information with the cops. The picture lavishes attention on the amazing potential of forensic science but doesn't seem especially interested in making Moralas and the police in general look good, even at the end when Moralas weakly attempts to apologize to Grace for everything he has forced her and her husband to endure. 

The performances are a mixed bag, as well, but a few standouts are worth noting. Montalbán does a fine job with his character, although Moralas is not as developed and interesting as one would like for a protagonist. He has a few scenes that address his obvious identity as an outsider, and it's nice to see him push back against Harkley's prejudice and preening sense of superiority. Harkley himself is not a very interesting villain, just another rich white guy who thinks the world revolves around him, and Henry Shanway and Dr. McAdoo are both more plot devices than people. The female characters possess all the nuance and complexity the men lack, starting with Jan Sterling as the doomed Vivian, who isn't perfect but still deserves a lot better than her fate. Sally Forrest channels the helpless rage and grief of Grace Shanway beautifully, while Betsy Blair makes the most of her handful of scenes as Vivian's housemate, Jackie. Elsa Lanchester gives the scene-stealing performance of the picture as the greedy landlady, always assessing every situation and conversation for an opportunity to profit off from it, even though she underestimates her own peril in trying to blackmail a man she knows to be a murderer. 

John Sturges made several undisputed classics, including Bad Day at Black Rock (1955), Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), The Magnificent Seven (1960), and The Great Escape (1963). Mystery Street came on the heels of a very busy 1949 for Ricardo Montalbán, when he appeared in the Esther Williams musical romance, Neptune's Daughter, the gritty noir, Border Incident, and the war picture, Battleground, which also stars Marshall Thompson. See more of Jan Sterling in Johnny Belinda (1948), Ace in the Hole (1951), and The High and the Mighty (1954), the last of which earned her an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress. Catch Sally Forrest in a starring role in Ida Lupino's Not Wanted (1949), and don't miss Betsy Blair's Oscar-nominated performance in Marty (1955). For more of the brilliant Elsa Lanchester, see The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), Ladies in Retirement (1941), Witness for the Prosecution (1957), and Bell, Book and Candle (1959). She's iconic in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), of course, but it doesn't give her nearly enough to do. If you want to see Lanchester as a proper detective, she plays a parody of Miss Marple in the star-studded mystery comedy, Murder by Death (1976).

Classic Films in Focus: DESPERATE JOURNEY (1942)

If director Raoul Walsh's WWII action movie, Desperate Journey (1942), had been made a few decades later, it would have boasted a catchy name that more accurately describes its tone and characters, something like The Great Escape (1963) or The Dirty Dozen (1967), so don't let its vague yet somber title dissuade you. Fans of modern team movies will recognize many familiar elements, including the near-constant action, the plucky (but imperfect) group of heroes, and the snappy banter and jokes, delivered in this case by Errol Flynn, Ronald Reagan, Alan Hale, Sr., Arthur Kennedy, and Ronald Sinclair as five RAF airmen from different Allied backgrounds trying to escape Nazi Germany after crashing their plane. If you're in the mood to watch classic Hollywood stars punch a bunch of Nazis, Desperate Journey provides such scenes in abundance, with a jaunty attitude that will particularly entertain those who already love the Indiana Jones movies and Captain America: The First Avenger (2011).

Errol Flynn takes the lead as the Australian Terry Forbes, who hopes to do as much damage to the Nazis as possible while trying to escape from Germany with his comrades. Regular Flynn sidekick Alan Hale, Sr., plays his Scottish pal, Kirk Edwards (with no attempt at a Scottish accent or anything like it), while future US President Ronald Reagan plays the intrepid American, Johnny Hammond. Joining the trio are Arthur Kennedy as pragmatic Canadian Jed Forrest and Ronald Sinclair as young Englishman Lloyd Hollis II, the son of a famous English pilot from the previous world war. Trapped behind enemy lines and initially captured, the group rushes to get out of Nazi territory with valuable information they've nabbed during their brief period as POWs. Along the way, they encounter constant danger from the enemy as well as unexpected help from the sympathetic Kaethe Brahms (Nancy Coleman).

Given the time and place in which it was made, it probably goes without saying that Desperate Journey is meant to be a patriotic morale booster for Americans and other Allies, with our noble heroes representing the US, Australia, Canada, England, and Scotland. Like Casablanca (1942), the movie takes place before the United States enters the war, so the protagonists are all fighting for the Royal Air Force in spite of their varied backgrounds. The peril they face is real, and several characters die to prove it, but overall it makes escaping from Nazi Germany look more like a daring adventure than a traumatic ordeal. Most of the Nazis are interchangeable goons, and some, including the one played by Sig Ruman, are buffoons, while Raymond Massey is more formidable as the main villain, Major Baumeister. The boys spend most of the movie in stolen Nazi uniforms, repeatedly blending into groups of soldiers and then being revealed as imposters, which gives them an opportunity to bash heads, grab guns, and make a run for the exit. They have little time to grieve their own dead as the action propels them ever forward, right up to the very end of the picture, but like most action teams they manage to work in plenty of quips and witticisms as they go.

Lively performances from the leads and entertaining, near-constant action prop up the simple plot and overtly patriotic message, with Flynn and Reagan splitting the best lines and scenes. Reagan deftly handles a great comedic bit where Johnny spouts technical nonsense in lieu of aviation secrets to Major Baumeister, while Flynn and Hale are very much in their element with the mix of fight scenes and banter so familiar to fans of The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and their other films together. Hale probably does the seed spitting gag a few too many times, but his character has a compelling backstory as a WWI veteran who planned to sit out the latest conflict until his son was killed at Dunkirk. Ronald Sinclair fills the obligatory "kid" role for the bunch with perfect innocence and pathos, while Arthur Kennedy plays a more restrained part as the group's voice of reason. Nancy Coleman isn't in the picture much, but her presence relieves the all-boys atmosphere for a few scenes, and there's just the faintest sense of a wrong time, wrong place romance between Kaethe and Terry. The movie spends much more of its time on the planes, trains, and automobiles that the heroes use to make a break for the German border, with an especially elaborate car chase in the third act leading up to a grand finale involving a stolen plane.

As befits an action movie of this type, Desperate Journey was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Special Effects, which it lost to Reap the Wild Wind (1942). Ronald Reagan also starred in the small town melodrama, Kings Row in 1942, before he was called away for military service - primarily making training films - for the remainder of the war. See more of Errol Flynn and Alan Hale, Sr., in Dodge City (1939), The Sea Hawk (1940), and Gentleman Jim (1942), the last of which was also directed by Raoul Walsh. For another picture with Walsh, Flynn, and Arthur Kennedy, see They Died with Their Boots On (1941). Desperate Journey was the final acting performance of New Zealand native and child actor Ronald Sinclair, who appeared in a series of Five Little Peppers movies. After serving in the US Army in WWII, Sinclair became a film editor and worked on many pictures with Roger Corman as well as later hits like Die Hard (1988) and Die Hard 2 (1990).

Classic Films in Focus: BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK (1955)

There's more than one bad day being referenced in the title, but Bad Day at Black Rock (1955) mostly focuses on the deadly 24 hours spent by Spencer Tracy's war veteran protagonist in a dusty little town that definitely doesn't want him there. It's a searing and sadly still relevant indictment of prejudice, small town corruption, and the way cowardice prevents ostensibly good people from doing what they know to be right. John Sturges, known for his Westerns and war films, directs this taut noir in a modern Western setting, and Tracy leads a cast of outstanding performers, with Robert Ryan, Ernest Borgnine, Walter Brennan, Dean Jagger, Lee Marvin, and Anne Francis all doing excellent work. 

Tracy plays WWII veteran John Macreedy, who lost an arm in Italy and arrives in Black Rock to present a medal to the father of the Japanese-American soldier who died saving his life. Denizens of the town are immediately suspicious of Macreedy, and their mood sours to outright hostility when they learn why he has come, with local boss Reno Smith (Robert Ryan) encouraging his henchmen, Coley (Ernest Borgnine) and Hector (Lee Marvin), to bait Macreedy at every turn. Macreedy soon realizes that Smith and his lackeys are behind the mysterious disappearance of the Japanese farmer, Komoko, but they don't intend to let Macreedy live long enough to tell the state police about their crimes.

Each character in this story represents a possible response to injustice, with Tracy's disabled veteran as our moral example and Ryan's seething racist at the other extreme. Macreedy, wanting to honor the memory of his fallen comrade and perhaps assuage his survivor's guilt, never wavers in his commitment to seeing justice done, even though it could mean his own death. He isn't temperamental or easy to bully into foolish action, which makes him particularly dangerous to the volatile, tyrannical Smith, who recognizes him as the inexorable force of justice personified. Smith puts on a friendly face at first, but it's merely a calculating facade. His need to rule over his neighbors and his vicious hatred of Japanese people soon become obvious. Coley and Hector eagerly abet Smith's reign, if only because it gives them scope to exercise their own sadistic natures and probably line their pockets at the same time. Young Pete (John Ericson) and his sister, Liz (Anne Francis), both express ambivalence at first, but each of them must eventually choose a side, and their starkly different decisions determine their fates. Good intentions and cowardice mark the characters of Doc Velie (Walter Brennan) and Sheriff Tim Horn (Dean Jagger), older men who don't condone Smith's crimes but seem unable to stand up to him until Macreedy shows them how it's done. It's worthwhile to note that Liz is the only female character we see in the entire town until the very last scene, as if Black Rock women have to stay in hiding as long as Smith's gang holds absolute sway. Black Rock is no place for them or children, either, because no one is safe as long as a ruthless tyrant rules the town.

American movies often romanticize small town life, but Bad Day at Black Rock picks up that rock to examine the venomous insects scurrying underneath. Four years before Macreedy's arrival, those insects swarmed out to murder the innocent Komoko just for being Japanese, even as his son fought for their collective freedom overseas. That was a bad day, too, but Black Rock is a place made for bad days, as Macreedy soon discovers. Small towns are prone to group think, susceptible to strong man predators, and often solipsistic in their worldviews, as they have trouble imagining that other places and people exist, much less matter. Macreedy says that he doesn't think there are a lot of towns like Black Rock in America, but the viewer ought to know better. Bad Day at Black Rock recreates World World II and the fight against the Nazi regime in a hot desert microcosm, warning us that cruelty, prejudice, cowardice, and apathy are not just problems "then" or "over there" but also, always, here and now. There's always another Reno Smith and plenty of Hectors and Coleys ready to enforce his will for their own gratification. There are plenty of "stay out of it" types, too, and those who disapprove but only wring their hands because they're afraid of incurring the bully's wrath. In the movie, Macreedy arrives on the train to save the town from itself, like a roving samurai, a lone gunfighter, or even a middle-aged, one-armed superhero, but that's the part of the story we can't depend on in real life. There's no guarantee that the train will ever stop, or that the hero we're waiting for will be on it if it does. If you have to pick a character to be in Bad Day at Black Rock (and you do), be Macreedy, and don't wait for him to be someone else.

Bad Day at Black Rock earned three Oscar nominations, including nods for Sturges and Tracy and a Best Screenplay nomination for Millard Kaufman, who adapted the story from Howard Breslin's 1947 short story, "Bad Time at Honda." Sturges' other films include Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), The Magnificent Seven (1960), and The Great Escape (1963), all of them terrific pictures. For a thematic Spencer Tracy double feature, pair Bad Day at Black Rock with Fury (1936) or Judgment at Nuremberg (1961). Robert Ryan, often cast as a heavy in noir and Western films, also plays a prejudiced killer in Crossfire (1947), but to see him as the good guy catch The Set-Up (1949). Unlike their characters in the film, Robert Ryan, Lee Marvin, and Ernest Borgnine all served in the military during WWII. For more films about the dark side of American small towns, try Kings Row (1942), Storm Warning (1950), or Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956).