Classic Films in Focus: THE GHOST BREAKERS (1940)

The "old dark house" picture has been a staple of the horror and horror-comedy genres at least as far back as the silent classic, The Cat and the Canary (1927), long before the Scooby Gang made it the regular fare of children's entertainment. To this tradition you may add The Ghost Breakers (1940), a creepy comedy featuring all kinds of silly scares and a very young Bob Hope firing off one-liners like silver bullets. While some of the film's touchier aspects may lessen the modern viewer's enthusiasm for the movie, The Ghost Breakers has plenty of laughs and even some genuine thrills to warrant attention, and kids will probably enjoy its humorous take on the haunted house theme.

Bob Hope plays Larry Lawrence (aka Lawrence Lawrence Lawrence, because his parents "lacked creativity"), a radio celebrity whose news scoops involving the mob get him into hot water. When Larry goes to confront the gangsters, he accidentally gets mixed up in the affairs of Mary Carter (Paulette Goddard), who has just inherited a cursed Cuban castle. Larry and his sidekick Alex (Willie Best) accompany Mary to Cuba to investigate the property's ghoulish reputation; once there, they discover both corporeal and ghostly threats lurking in the castle's moonlit halls.

Hope and Paulette Goddard make a fine pair, and they share some very good scenes that combine romance and comedy in equal measure. No shrinking violet, Goddard's Mary is a plucky heroine, ready to engage Larry's silly humor or to venture alone into the haunted castle at night. She becomes especially lovely when she assumes the costume of a long dead ancestor; the stunning black dress, designed by Edith Head, is a real winner, and it suits the actress perfectly. Hope is remarkably handsome, although his distinctive features still suggest the fool more than the hero; his obvious jealousy when another man enters the picture engages our sympathy for fear he should lose the lovely Mary to a more conventional sort of leading man.

The only real hitch in the picture is Willie Best's appearance as Alex, Larry's manservant and companion. There are two ways to react to the performance: you can either decry it as another "Stepin Fetchit" stereotype or you can appreciate how much Best is able to do with it in spite of the attitudes of the day. Best was one of the best-known black character actors in the business, notable enough to recieve credit for small roles when most performers would not. His goggle-eyed reaction shots are typical of the era, and Best eventually lost the public's support as a new generation of African-Americans sought to distance themselves from such portrayals. Still, Alex is Larry's functional equal in the film; often more practical than Larry, and no more frightened by the specters than his white companions, Alex is more sidekick than servant, and Best certainly knows how to hold the screen against the charismatic Hope. If you watch the film with younger viewers, it's a good idea to talk about Best's character and how depictions of minorities have changed since the 1940s, but children are more likely to regard Alex as a full participant in the comedy than a mere stereotype, and that may be the wisest and most appreciative way to view Best's performance.

Look for Anthony Quinn playing a dual role as Cuban twin brothers, as well as Virginia Brissac rendered utterly unrecognizable under the heavy make-up of the zombie mother. If you like haunted house movies, be sure to catch The Old Dark House (1932) and House on Haunted Hill (1959). For more spooky comedy, try Topper (1937), Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), and Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948). Hope and Goddard also starred together in a 1939 remake of The Cat and the Canary. Bob Hope is best remembered today for his road movies with Bing Crosby, but he also stars in The Lemon Drop Kid (1951), Casanova's Big Night (1954), and The Seven Little Foys (1955). You can see more of Paulette Goddard in Modern Times (1936), The Women (1939), and The Great Dictator (1940). The Ghost Breakers, which began life as a stage play, was remade in 1953 by Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis as Scared Stiff, with Lewis filling the role that Willie Best had plays in the 1940 version.

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.

Classic Films in Focus: THE BLACK SWAN (1942)

 Of course Tyrone Power had to play a pirate at some point in his career. Like Errol Flynn, he exuded the kind of masculine charisma that lent itself to the swashbuckler, and in director Henry King's The Black Swan (1942) we get to see that quality exhibited in spades, along with a pretty good portion of Power's attractive torso. Although there are some rather thorny issues to deal with when it comes to the picture's representation of romance, The Black Swan works very well as an old school adventure film, with exciting performances from Power and the rest of the cast.

Power takes the lead as English pirate Jamie Waring, who finds his activities at sea and on land complicated by the appointment of his old friend, Henry Morgan (Laird Cregar), to the governorship of Jamaica. Henry expects Jamie's assistance in hunting down former comrades, particularly the rebellious Captain Leech (George Sanders), but Jamie finds himself distracted by the previous governor's beautiful daughter, Lady Margaret (Maureen O'Hara). Sparks fly between the sparring couple even as Jamie comes to realize that Margaret's father (George Zucco) and suitor (Edward Ashley) have resorted to some seriously underhanded measures in order to oust Henry Morgan from his new office.

Laird Cregar as Henry Morgan

The presence of real pirate Henry Morgan makes for an interesting spin on the usual swashbuckler tale of the era, but the film's interest in politics is mainly focused on the idea that piracy and politics are really the same thing once you get past the semantics. Henry is pirate first and politician second, while his adversaries present the reverse order, but Henry and his comrades come off as appealing because their piratical nature is transparent, while the scheming Lord Denby and Roger Ingram are despicable because they hide their black colors under hypocritical righteousness. Like Morgan, Jamie Waring is, therefore, a lovable rogue, despite his boorish and even felonious behavior, because we know he's a pirate and so does he. The casting of the "good" pirates highlights their demand for our sympathy. Laird Cregar creates an immensely interesting character out of Morgan as an old sea dog trying to learn a new trick; you have to feel sorry for him squirming in his respectable clothes, clearly trying to bluff his way out of every situation and ready to eat his wig as the whole mess gets more and more out of control. Brilliant character actor Thomas Mitchell gets to cut loose as Jamie's first mate, Tommie Blue, and he looks like he's having a wonderful time. Contrast these charming scoundrels with the "bad" pirates played by George Sanders and Anthony Quinn, both of them looking quite wild, and it's clear which ones we're supposed to like.

The romantic plot of the film plays less well for a modern audience. It's hard for us today to defend or even grasp the idea of romance predicated on violence, even though it was a common trope for certain kinds of classic films. The first time we meet Margaret Denby, Jamie assaults her, hits her, tries to kidnap her, and then drops her on the floor once his attention is directed elsewhere. No wonder she doesn't seem to like him! The only justification for this love as war theme is the fact that Margaret gives as good as she gets; these two firebrands both like it rough, and that's why they're attracted to each other. The casting of Maureen O'Hara as Margaret makes this squaring off of the sexes more palatable; she makes a very credible hellcat, and of course that's why she appears in so many similar roles opposite John Wayne in movies like The Quiet Man (1952) and McLintock! (1963). Still, the idea of "saying no, saying yes" makes serious trouble for the astute modern viewer, and it might be wise to have a thoughtful conversation about this element of the film with any youngsters watching the picture. There's a certain forced quality to the end of the movie, akin to that of The Taming of the Shrew, that defends the idea that a battle of the sexes ends well when a woman chooses to "win" by losing.

Younger viewers who enjoyed the Pirates of the Caribbean movies should certainly find plenty to like in The Black Swan, while older fans of the swashbuckler will enjoy the lively performances from the first rate cast. Don't miss Tyrone Power in The Mark of Zorro (1940) for an even better example of Power's talent and charisma. You can see more of the beautiful Maureen O’Hara in Dance, Girl, Dance (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and Miracle on 34^th Street (1947). Catch the fantastic Laird Cregar in This Gun for Hire (1942), Heaven Can Wait (1943), and The Lodger (1944). Henry King also directed Jesse James (1939), The Song of Bernadette (1943), and The Gunfighter (1950). If the battle of sexes really revs your motor, go directly to the musicals Annie Get Your Gun (1950), Kiss Me Kate (1953), and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954). Given the similarities, I'm almost surprised in retrospect that Power and O'Hara don't burst into song! 

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.

Classic Films in Focus: LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962)

Like its protagonist, Lawrence of Arabia (1962) has become the stuff of legend, a film so critically acclaimed and celebrated that it is difficult to come to the picture itself without preconceived notions. It won seven Oscars in 1963, including Best Picture and Best Director for David Lean, with ten nominations in all to attest to its immediate success. It is, of course, an epic story told on a grand scale, with sweeping desert landscapes and camels silhouetted against the sun. It is also, however, a very personal and tragic account of a man who seeks greatness but finds it an excruciating burden to bear, a man whose sanity seems to hang in the balance even at the best of times. It is this aspect of the story, as much as its visual grandeur, that makes Lawrence of Arabia an enduringly compelling film.

Peter O’Toole takes center stage as the legendary T.E. Lawrence, a British officer stationed in Arabia during World War I. Lawrence sets out on an impossible quest to unite the Arab tribes against the Ottoman Empire, and he eventually becomes the leader of a surprisingly effective Arab army. His feats attract the notice of many powerful men, including Prince Feisal (Alec Guinness), General Allenby (Jack Hawkins), and the American journalist Jackson Bentley (Arthur Kennedy). Lawrence, however, struggles with the bloody experience of war and his own fame and suffers many painful losses during his time in the desert.

Lean’s direction merges characters and setting into a story that unfolds like a religious epic, with Lawrence as both messiah and madman (which might be the same thing). Lawrence’s essential difference from everyone around him and his constant, terrible suffering only increase his charismatic power, which rapidly evolves into something far beyond his control. He very much resembles Lancelot, the ill-made knight, as T.H. White imagines him in The Once and Future King. Behind the heroic posture lurks a dark side, a violent, sadistic urge that is also masochistic. All of these things are suggested in the thorniest moments of the story, when Lawrence is tortured by the Turks and later leads a massacre of retreating Turkish troops. Tragedy is ultimately his portion, which the film makes clear by opening with his death.

Peter O’Toole is justly applauded for his role as the enigmatic protagonist, but Lawrence of Arabia also features brilliantly nuanced performances from the supporting players. Omar Sharif’s Sherif Ali is the closest thing Lawrence has to a romantic interest; the dynamics of their relationship, which serves as the heart of the picture, prove endlessly complex. Alec Guinness plays Prince Feisal as a polished, calculating politician, one we aren’t meant to trust any more than we do the British leaders who see Lawrence as a PR opportunity and an expendable catspaw, while Anthony Quinn acts as foil to Guinness in the part of the rougher, louder Auda Abu Tayi. Claude Rains only appears in a few scenes, but he makes those count, and Arthur Kennedy gives a very sharp performance as the opportunistic reporter.

Come for the splendid scenery, by all means, but stay for the story. The truth about T.H. Lawrence might be shrouded in myth and rumor, as it was even in his own lifetime, but he was beyond doubt an extraordinary man, just as Lawrence of Arabia is an extraordinary film.

For more of David Lean’s most memorable pictures, try Brief Encounter (1945), Great Expectations (1946), and The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). See Peter O’Toole in The Lion in Winter (1968) and The Ruling Class (1972). Omar Sharif also stars in Lean’s Oscar-winning drama, Doctor Zhivago (1965).

Note: A shorter version of this review can be found on Examiner.com.