One probably doesn't go looking for timely political commentary in a film like Tower of London (1939), which offers a mashup of history and horror in its retelling of the bloody rise and fall of England's most reviled monarch. Much of the plot is familiar to viewers thanks to broad cultural awareness of Shakespeare's version and, perhaps, renewed 21st century interest that resulted from the discovery of Richard's bones in 2012. Tower of London, which was released in 1939, is very much a Hollywood vision of the Wars of the Roses, with Basil Rathbone starring as the murderously ambitious Richard. It generally favors the lurid and romantic over the strictly historical, a bent indicated by the presence of supporting players like Boris Karloff and Vincent Price. It's striking, then, to recognize the way in which this film depicts the insidious use of disinformation and a weaponized mob to influence political forces. Just like the hidden political operatives who manipulate our elections today, Richard III and his henchman, Mord, utilize a massive, medieval version of social media to undermine their opponents and assist their own ambitions.
We might not, at first, recognize the importance of the disinformation campaign to Richard's ascent. Shocking physical violence often overshadows the subtler efforts that propel the repugnant royal toward the throne. In the film, Richard has his enemies executed, drowns one brother in a vat of malmsey, has his young nephews brutally murdered, and conspires in the deaths of numerous other rivals. While he is a skilled swordsman, he normally avoids holding the murder weapons himself, preferring instead to have Mord commit the crimes or to fabricate grounds to get his enemies sent to the scaffold. Richard's general preference throughout is for the most underhanded, devious means of accomplishing his goals; his double dealing keeps everyone around him off balance and guessing at his true motives.
That inclination toward secretive, secondhand villainy fits perfectly with Richard's deployment of the rabble to spread lies and gossip that support his rise to power. We see in the film how Richard conducts this propaganda campaign, with Mord once again as his intermediary. Richard gives Mord the funding and the message to circulate, which Mord then takes to a collection of beggars who function as his network of infiltrators and spies. Somewhat comically, we see the mob rehearse their assigned lines under Mord's direction and then repeat them as they pretend to be casual spectators interspersed among the crowds. They work exactly like modern Russian agitators and other operatives on social media, taking their orders from the top and then presenting themselves as independent, sincere peers to the unsuspecting community. Their misinformation and propaganda spread through the kingdom until citizens rally in support of Richard and demand that he be crowned king, never suspecting that their actions have been carefully manipulated for that very end. The people affected by Richard's lies don't seem to realize - or care - that he has the blood of so many people on his hands.
Fortunately for history, Richard's propaganda is only temporarily successful, and, as we now know, his thoroughly abused corpse ended up buried beneath a Leicester car park. Tower of London ends on a positive note, with Queen Elyzabeth (Barbara O'Neil) rejoicing that she has saved her daughters from Richard's murderous reign and will one day see an heir to her line once more on the English throne (in reality, her eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, would become Queen to Henry VII and the mother of Henry VIII). The bloodshed and damage, however, were not undone for the many who lost their lives during Richard's rise and fall, and modern viewers can't assume that a new Henry Tudor will show up to right the ship of state in our current global political crisis. While we might rightly relish the horror-tinged spectacle that Tower of London offers, we should also take to heart its dire message about the insidious efficiency of misinformation and the deliberate manipulation of the masses through whisper campaigns, whether they're conducted in a marketplace or on Facebook. Now is the winter of our discontent, indeed, and Richard's modern counterparts are hard at work to ensure that no glorious summer follows.
Showing posts with label Barbara O'Neil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barbara O'Neil. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 8, 2019
Monday, July 18, 2016
Classic Films in Focus: TOWER OF LONDON (1939)
Tower of London (1939) lacks the poetic grandeur of Shakespeare's Richard III, but the story remains more or less the same, with an atmosphere of horror injected into the historical drama through the appearance of genre icons like Boris Karloff and Vincent Price. As history goes, this is bloody stuff, indeed; it opens with a beheading and goes on as it begins, and there's certainly enough death and torture to satisfy the bloodthirstiest horror fan. Basil Rathbone brings gravitas and intelligence to the role of Richard, while Karloff plays the executioner henchman who helps him murder his way to the throne. A fine supporting cast includes Ian Hunter, Barbara O'Neil, John Sutton, and the lovely Nan Grey, but most fans will flock to this film for the irresistible trio of Rathbone, Karloff, and Price.
As Richard, Duke of Gloucester, Rathbone schemes and slays in a bid for the English crown. To get there, he must first get rid of everyone ahead of him in line, including his brothers, King Edward IV (Ian Hunter) and the Duke of Clarence (Vincent Price), and his young nephews, the king's sons with long-suffering Queen Elyzabeth (Barbara O'Neil). Assisting Richard is Mord (Boris Karloff), a torturer and executioner whose own deformed foot creates a kinship with the hunchbacked Duke. While Richard murders his way to power, the Queen's followers, John Wyatt (John Sutton) and Lady Alice (Nan Grey), struggle to keep their love alive and to defend the country from Richard's evil reign.
As the subject matter implies, this is really Rathbone's film, and he gives a terrific performance, even if he doesn't get to spout any Shakespearean soliloquies. His Richard is not merely evil and repulsive; he has courage, genius, and the military prowess to match his ambition. His strange relationship with Anne Neville (Rose Hobart) proves that he has a certain charisma, too, like a snake that charms before striking. The discovery of the real Richard III's body in 2012 made him a celebrity again and shed new light on the historical record, but in many ways Rathbone's performance seems ahead of its time, especially in comparison with the way the king is portrayed in Shakespeare's play. Rathbone also gets to exercise his celebrated swordsmanship in several sparring scenes, which again emphasize the active, aggressive nature of this incarnation of his character.
The rest of the performers help to make Tower of London a very solid example of its type. John Sutton is something of a stand-in swashbuckler as John Wyatt, one of Richard's most determined opponents, and Nan Grey has several good scenes as his lady love, though her best is probably her rescue mission to help John escape from Richard's dungeon. Barbara O'Neil radiates maternal devotion and fear as the mother of the doomed little princes, while Ian Hunter makes a hale but too trusting Edward IV. Karloff, of course, owns his scenes as Mord; he and Rathbone pair up perfectly and convey a lot about their relationship through their expressions and body language. Mord yearns to see combat on the battlefield, and he mostly enjoys his murderous occupation, but the scene in which he is sent to murder the young princes adds just a touch of humanity to his villainous soul. Vincent Price, still at the start of his career in 1939, has a fairly small part as the weak-minded Clarence, but he makes the most of it, especially in his fateful drinking contest with Richard. The role presages those he would play later in life, especially in the Corman pictures and the AIP horror of the 70s.
Rowland V. Lee, who directed Tower of London, made a number of historical action pictures late in his career, including The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), The Three Musketeers (1935), and Captain Kidd (1945), but he also directed Karloff and Rathbone in the excellent Son of Frankenstein (1939). For more of Rathbone's great villains, see The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and The Mark of Zorro (1940). Karloff is justly famous for his monsters and fiends; to get beyond his Universal classics from the 30s, try Val Lewton horrors like The Body Snatcher (1945) and Bedlam (1946), or catch him in a more sympathetic mood in Corridors of Blood (1958). Fans will recognize Barbara O'Neil as Scarlett's mother in Gone with the Wind (1939), while John Sutton and Nan Gray can both be found with Vincent Price in The Invisible Man Returns (1940). For a double feature starring the trio of Rathbone, Karloff, and Price, follow up Tower of London with the delightfully macabre The Comedy of Terrors (1963), which also stars Peter Lorre.
As Richard, Duke of Gloucester, Rathbone schemes and slays in a bid for the English crown. To get there, he must first get rid of everyone ahead of him in line, including his brothers, King Edward IV (Ian Hunter) and the Duke of Clarence (Vincent Price), and his young nephews, the king's sons with long-suffering Queen Elyzabeth (Barbara O'Neil). Assisting Richard is Mord (Boris Karloff), a torturer and executioner whose own deformed foot creates a kinship with the hunchbacked Duke. While Richard murders his way to power, the Queen's followers, John Wyatt (John Sutton) and Lady Alice (Nan Grey), struggle to keep their love alive and to defend the country from Richard's evil reign.
As the subject matter implies, this is really Rathbone's film, and he gives a terrific performance, even if he doesn't get to spout any Shakespearean soliloquies. His Richard is not merely evil and repulsive; he has courage, genius, and the military prowess to match his ambition. His strange relationship with Anne Neville (Rose Hobart) proves that he has a certain charisma, too, like a snake that charms before striking. The discovery of the real Richard III's body in 2012 made him a celebrity again and shed new light on the historical record, but in many ways Rathbone's performance seems ahead of its time, especially in comparison with the way the king is portrayed in Shakespeare's play. Rathbone also gets to exercise his celebrated swordsmanship in several sparring scenes, which again emphasize the active, aggressive nature of this incarnation of his character.
The rest of the performers help to make Tower of London a very solid example of its type. John Sutton is something of a stand-in swashbuckler as John Wyatt, one of Richard's most determined opponents, and Nan Grey has several good scenes as his lady love, though her best is probably her rescue mission to help John escape from Richard's dungeon. Barbara O'Neil radiates maternal devotion and fear as the mother of the doomed little princes, while Ian Hunter makes a hale but too trusting Edward IV. Karloff, of course, owns his scenes as Mord; he and Rathbone pair up perfectly and convey a lot about their relationship through their expressions and body language. Mord yearns to see combat on the battlefield, and he mostly enjoys his murderous occupation, but the scene in which he is sent to murder the young princes adds just a touch of humanity to his villainous soul. Vincent Price, still at the start of his career in 1939, has a fairly small part as the weak-minded Clarence, but he makes the most of it, especially in his fateful drinking contest with Richard. The role presages those he would play later in life, especially in the Corman pictures and the AIP horror of the 70s.
Rowland V. Lee, who directed Tower of London, made a number of historical action pictures late in his career, including The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), The Three Musketeers (1935), and Captain Kidd (1945), but he also directed Karloff and Rathbone in the excellent Son of Frankenstein (1939). For more of Rathbone's great villains, see The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and The Mark of Zorro (1940). Karloff is justly famous for his monsters and fiends; to get beyond his Universal classics from the 30s, try Val Lewton horrors like The Body Snatcher (1945) and Bedlam (1946), or catch him in a more sympathetic mood in Corridors of Blood (1958). Fans will recognize Barbara O'Neil as Scarlett's mother in Gone with the Wind (1939), while John Sutton and Nan Gray can both be found with Vincent Price in The Invisible Man Returns (1940). For a double feature starring the trio of Rathbone, Karloff, and Price, follow up Tower of London with the delightfully macabre The Comedy of Terrors (1963), which also stars Peter Lorre.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Classic Films in Focus: ANGEL FACE (1952)
Robert Mitchum and Jean Simmons play a deadly game of dysfunctional romance in Otto Preminger's Angel Face (1952), which features a particularly tragic femme fatale caught in the undertow of her own insanity. Everyone around her is in danger of being dragged down, as well, but Mitchum's protagonist is foolhardy enough to see the danger signs and still dive in. Angel Face benefits tremendously from Preminger's direction and the performances of the two stars, but the picture ultimately belongs to Simmons, whose sweet face conceals the murderous disorder of her obsessive mind.
Mitchum stars as Frank, an ambulance driver who answers a call at the Tremayne house only to become drawn into the family's affairs by Diane (Jean Simmons), a beautiful but manipulative young woman who hates her wealthy stepmother (Barbara O'Neil) as much as she adores her novelist father (Herbert Marshall). Frank blows off his steady girl, Mary (Mona Freeman), in order to spend time with Diane, even though he realizes that he's setting himself up for trouble. When Diane is accused of murder, Frank finds his own life on the line, as well, and he's forced to stick with her in spite of his desire to break things off and go back to Mary.
Mitchum, of course, was made for film noir, but this performance sees him in a more passive role. Frank lets Diane lead him around by the nose until it's far too late to walk out, even though he eventually gets fed up enough to try. The actor has a unique ability to make us believe how a smart guy might do a series of very stupid things. "Never be the innocent bystander," Frank says, "that's the guy that always gets hurt." He doesn't take his own advice. Simmons is a marvel as the siren who lures Frank on toward disaster; she isn't intentionally bad so much as she is utterly deranged, a broken doll with a little girl's face and a jealous killer's heart. Like Ellen Berent in Leave Her to Heaven (1945) and Annie Laurie Starr in Gun Crazy (1950), Diane is capable of love, but it's a passionate, possessive storm of emotion that destroys the ones it adores. Diane loves her father, but she can't tolerate her stepmother's intrusion into their lives, and her desire to get rid of Catherine Tremayne takes her well beyond the point of no return. She loves Frank, even though she knows that he never stops thinking about returning to Mary. Eventually she realizes that there's only one way to make sure that he never walks out.
The supporting performances are all solid, with Herbert Marshall especially sympathetic and rather pitiable as the novelist whose marriage into money has ruined him for his art. We can see why Diane worships her father, but we also recognize the essential weakness of his nature. Barbara O'Neil does an excellent job with the tough role of Diane's stepmother. Diane, resentful and childish, wants to cast her as a fairy tale villain, while O'Neil shows us the extent to which Diane's vision is self-deluding. Mona Freeman has some very good scenes with Mitchum as the justly offended girlfriend, but her best moment is the luncheon confrontation with Diane, where Mary proves that she's not going to play Diane's duplicitous game. Leon Ames is polished and rather disturbing as the attorney who defends Diane, and Jim Backus turns up for a few energetic scenes on behalf of the prosecution.
Otto Preminger directed other noir films, including Laura (1944), Fallen Angel (1945), and Whirlpool (1949); he also directed Mitchum again in the Western, River of No Return (1954). See more of the magnificent Mitchum in Out of the Past (1947), The Night of the Hunter (1955), and Cape Fear (1962). You'll find Jean Simmons in Great Expectations (1946), Black Narcissus (1947), and Spartacus (1960). Barbara O'Neil is best remembered today for playing Scarlett O'Hara's mother in Gone with the Wind (1939), while Herbert Marshall is known for Foreign Correspondent (1940) and The Letter (1940).
Mitchum stars as Frank, an ambulance driver who answers a call at the Tremayne house only to become drawn into the family's affairs by Diane (Jean Simmons), a beautiful but manipulative young woman who hates her wealthy stepmother (Barbara O'Neil) as much as she adores her novelist father (Herbert Marshall). Frank blows off his steady girl, Mary (Mona Freeman), in order to spend time with Diane, even though he realizes that he's setting himself up for trouble. When Diane is accused of murder, Frank finds his own life on the line, as well, and he's forced to stick with her in spite of his desire to break things off and go back to Mary.
Mitchum, of course, was made for film noir, but this performance sees him in a more passive role. Frank lets Diane lead him around by the nose until it's far too late to walk out, even though he eventually gets fed up enough to try. The actor has a unique ability to make us believe how a smart guy might do a series of very stupid things. "Never be the innocent bystander," Frank says, "that's the guy that always gets hurt." He doesn't take his own advice. Simmons is a marvel as the siren who lures Frank on toward disaster; she isn't intentionally bad so much as she is utterly deranged, a broken doll with a little girl's face and a jealous killer's heart. Like Ellen Berent in Leave Her to Heaven (1945) and Annie Laurie Starr in Gun Crazy (1950), Diane is capable of love, but it's a passionate, possessive storm of emotion that destroys the ones it adores. Diane loves her father, but she can't tolerate her stepmother's intrusion into their lives, and her desire to get rid of Catherine Tremayne takes her well beyond the point of no return. She loves Frank, even though she knows that he never stops thinking about returning to Mary. Eventually she realizes that there's only one way to make sure that he never walks out.
The supporting performances are all solid, with Herbert Marshall especially sympathetic and rather pitiable as the novelist whose marriage into money has ruined him for his art. We can see why Diane worships her father, but we also recognize the essential weakness of his nature. Barbara O'Neil does an excellent job with the tough role of Diane's stepmother. Diane, resentful and childish, wants to cast her as a fairy tale villain, while O'Neil shows us the extent to which Diane's vision is self-deluding. Mona Freeman has some very good scenes with Mitchum as the justly offended girlfriend, but her best moment is the luncheon confrontation with Diane, where Mary proves that she's not going to play Diane's duplicitous game. Leon Ames is polished and rather disturbing as the attorney who defends Diane, and Jim Backus turns up for a few energetic scenes on behalf of the prosecution.
Otto Preminger directed other noir films, including Laura (1944), Fallen Angel (1945), and Whirlpool (1949); he also directed Mitchum again in the Western, River of No Return (1954). See more of the magnificent Mitchum in Out of the Past (1947), The Night of the Hunter (1955), and Cape Fear (1962). You'll find Jean Simmons in Great Expectations (1946), Black Narcissus (1947), and Spartacus (1960). Barbara O'Neil is best remembered today for playing Scarlett O'Hara's mother in Gone with the Wind (1939), while Herbert Marshall is known for Foreign Correspondent (1940) and The Letter (1940).
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Classic Films in Focus: I REMEMBER MAMA (1948)
Nominated for five Academy Awards, I Remember Mama (1948) is one of those movies that requires a handful of hankies to watch, especially for those who have fond memories of their own mothers. George Stevens’ nostalgic melodrama has all the right ingredients for a classic tearjerker, including a sweet, sincere performance from Irene Dunne as the idealized matriarch, whose dedication to her family knows no bounds. Barbara Bel Geddes also makes a lasting impression in her second screen role as the narrator of the tale, but the cast is full of talented character actors who each bring something special to the picture and enhance its appeal. While it might prove too sentimental for some modern viewers, those who enjoy heartwarming family stories will find much to love in I Remember Mama, which wisely balances laughter and tears in its depiction of the Hanson family’s experiences.
Barbara Bel Geddes stars as Katrin, the daughter of Norwegian immigrants living in San Francisco in the first decade of the twentieth century. Along with her brother and two sisters, Katrin grows up under the devoted protection of her father, Lars (Philip Dorn), and mother, Marta (Irene Dunne), who make many sacrifices for the benefit of their children. As Katrin enters adulthood and becomes a writer, she recounts the many ups and downs of the family’s life together, but she focuses most on the selfless love and support of her mother.
Both Dunne and Bel Geddes earned Oscar nominations for their performances, but the picture really belongs to Dunne, who manages to make Mama an angel without making her dull. Equally adept at comedy and sentiment, Dunne gives Mama enough good humor and strength to see her through almost any crisis, even little Dagmar’s emergency surgery. Some mothers might sit at home and cry, but Mama disguises herself as a cleaning lady in order to sneak into the ward and keep her promise to her daughter. Scenes that might otherwise play as maudlin, like the euthanization of an injured pet cat, are lightened by Dunne’s handling of the moment. The audience believes in Mama because of Dunne’s performance of her; the role would bring Dunne the last of five Best Actress nominations, and it’s a shame she never won. Bel Geddes, fresh-faced and girlish, looks far younger than her actual age as the adolescent Katrin; her youthful appearance and soft voice lend credibility to her role as a teenager still trying to find her place in the world. Katrin spends much of her time on the sidelines, watching and taking note of her mother’s actions, but Bel Geddes shines in the few key scenes where she takes center stage.
The two lead actresses get ample support from the rest of the cast, which features some memorable players who bring both depth and humor to their roles. Oskar Homolka is quite the scene-stealer as Uncle Chris, the overbearing patriarch whose loud personality masks his loving, generous spirit. Ellen Corby plays timid Aunt Trina with such a yearning for happiness that she alone of Marta’s three sisters commands our sympathy. Both Homolka and Corby picked up Oscar nominations for their performances, pitting Corby and Bel Geddes against each other for Best Supporting Actress (they lost to Claire Trevor in Key Largo). Trina’s mild-mannered suitor is played by Edgar Bergen, appearing without his wooden sidekick, Charlie McCarthy; as Mr. Thorkelson, he functions mostly as a comical figure but has a tender scene with Trina near the very end of the picture. Dedicated classic movie fans will also appreciate the contributions of Rudy Vallee, Florence Bates, Cedric Hardwicke, and Barbara O’Neil in brief but effective appearances.
The original story of I Remember Mama came from Mama’s Bank Account, a novel by Kathryn Forbes, which was adapted into a stage play by John Van Druten. A television series and Broadway musical followed, proving the story’s enduring appeal to audiences. For more of Irene Dunne, see The Awful Truth (1937), Love Affair (1939), and My Favorite Wife (1940). Barbara Bel Geddes is best remembered today as Ellie Ewing on the television series, Dallas, but you’ll also find her in Blood on the Moon (1948), Panic in the Streets (1950), and Vertigo (1958). See Oskar Homolka in Sabotage (1936), The Invisible Woman (1940), and Ball of Fire (1941). Like Barbara Bel Geddes, Ellen Corby had her most memorable role on television, as Grandma Walton on The Waltons, and she also has a small part in Vertigo; look for more of her in Caged (1950), Angels in the Outfield (1951), and Shane (1953).
Barbara Bel Geddes stars as Katrin, the daughter of Norwegian immigrants living in San Francisco in the first decade of the twentieth century. Along with her brother and two sisters, Katrin grows up under the devoted protection of her father, Lars (Philip Dorn), and mother, Marta (Irene Dunne), who make many sacrifices for the benefit of their children. As Katrin enters adulthood and becomes a writer, she recounts the many ups and downs of the family’s life together, but she focuses most on the selfless love and support of her mother.
Both Dunne and Bel Geddes earned Oscar nominations for their performances, but the picture really belongs to Dunne, who manages to make Mama an angel without making her dull. Equally adept at comedy and sentiment, Dunne gives Mama enough good humor and strength to see her through almost any crisis, even little Dagmar’s emergency surgery. Some mothers might sit at home and cry, but Mama disguises herself as a cleaning lady in order to sneak into the ward and keep her promise to her daughter. Scenes that might otherwise play as maudlin, like the euthanization of an injured pet cat, are lightened by Dunne’s handling of the moment. The audience believes in Mama because of Dunne’s performance of her; the role would bring Dunne the last of five Best Actress nominations, and it’s a shame she never won. Bel Geddes, fresh-faced and girlish, looks far younger than her actual age as the adolescent Katrin; her youthful appearance and soft voice lend credibility to her role as a teenager still trying to find her place in the world. Katrin spends much of her time on the sidelines, watching and taking note of her mother’s actions, but Bel Geddes shines in the few key scenes where she takes center stage.
The two lead actresses get ample support from the rest of the cast, which features some memorable players who bring both depth and humor to their roles. Oskar Homolka is quite the scene-stealer as Uncle Chris, the overbearing patriarch whose loud personality masks his loving, generous spirit. Ellen Corby plays timid Aunt Trina with such a yearning for happiness that she alone of Marta’s three sisters commands our sympathy. Both Homolka and Corby picked up Oscar nominations for their performances, pitting Corby and Bel Geddes against each other for Best Supporting Actress (they lost to Claire Trevor in Key Largo). Trina’s mild-mannered suitor is played by Edgar Bergen, appearing without his wooden sidekick, Charlie McCarthy; as Mr. Thorkelson, he functions mostly as a comical figure but has a tender scene with Trina near the very end of the picture. Dedicated classic movie fans will also appreciate the contributions of Rudy Vallee, Florence Bates, Cedric Hardwicke, and Barbara O’Neil in brief but effective appearances.
The original story of I Remember Mama came from Mama’s Bank Account, a novel by Kathryn Forbes, which was adapted into a stage play by John Van Druten. A television series and Broadway musical followed, proving the story’s enduring appeal to audiences. For more of Irene Dunne, see The Awful Truth (1937), Love Affair (1939), and My Favorite Wife (1940). Barbara Bel Geddes is best remembered today as Ellie Ewing on the television series, Dallas, but you’ll also find her in Blood on the Moon (1948), Panic in the Streets (1950), and Vertigo (1958). See Oskar Homolka in Sabotage (1936), The Invisible Woman (1940), and Ball of Fire (1941). Like Barbara Bel Geddes, Ellen Corby had her most memorable role on television, as Grandma Walton on The Waltons, and she also has a small part in Vertigo; look for more of her in Caged (1950), Angels in the Outfield (1951), and Shane (1953).
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