Classic Films in Focus: SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (1948)

Adapted by Lucille Fletcher from her own original radio play, Sorry, Wrong Number (1948) successfully translates its tale of murder and hysteria into the new medium without losing its connections to its radio roots. Anatole Litvak directs this tense noir thriller, which cranks up the suspense as Barbara Stanwyck's invalid anti-heroine becomes more and more unhinged, convinced that someone is coming to kill her at 11:15 pm on a lonely, hot night in the middle of New York. Great performances from Stanwyck and Burt Lancaster drive the film, which offers an ironic commentary on the way in which a domineering woman's constant manipulation pushes her husband toward increasingly desperate criminal acts.

Stanwyck stars as Leona Stevenson, a wealthy invalid left alone in her New York home when her servants, nurse, and husband all manage to be out at the same time. Needy and irritable, Leona hunts for husband Henry (Burt Lancaster) by repeatedly calling his office and complaining to the telephone operators, but then she stumbles into a conversation in which two men plot to kill a woman at 11:15 that very night. Leona is horrified, but her anxiety only increases as other callers begin to fill in the details of a complicated plot involving Leona, her husband, and the extent of their marital discord.

Stanwyck's performance dominates the picture, and it earned her an Oscar nomination for Best Actress (she lost to Jane Wyman for Johnny Belinda). It was the fourth and final Best Actress nomination of her career, though she never actually won. Still, the role of Leona shows why Stanwyck remains such an icon among classic Hollywood's leading ladies. She can be good, she can even be funny, but she is always most delightful when she's very, very bad. Like Stanwyck's other noir characters, Leona is a combination of strength and weakness; she goes after innocent Henry like a tiger on the prowl, then blackmails him with her tantrums and physical frailty to keep him tied to her and her father's company. She discounts Henry's need to accomplish anything for himself and makes him so addicted to her upper class lifestyle that his original integrity dissolves into base, ugly greed. She loves him and destroys him; the story unfolds to us in flashbacks that reveal how she poached him from a rival (Ann Richards), made him a captive of her father's company, and drove him to crime. At the same time, Stanwyck manages to make us feel bad for Leona, whose terror is very real as the moment of the killing draws near. She wants to save the unknown victim, and she wants Henry to love her. We'd have to be heartless monsters not to pity the sick woman, hysterical and heartbroken, sobbing into the phone as her world comes apart.

The story's origins as a radio play help to explain the way the narrative is constructed, with a single character confined entirely to telephone conversations and flashbacks as actions. There are moments in Sorry, Wrong Number where you can close your eyes and experience the very auditory nature of the events. We constantly hear trains passing, phones ringing, lines disconnecting, and other sounds that add to the mounting tension. Leona communicates with people from her past through the telephone, first her father (Ed Begley), and then Sally Hunt Lord (Ann Richards), and these conversations trigger memories that fill in the years between her first meeting with Henry and their current state. A late revelation from her doctor (Wendell Corey) devastates Leona, while the mysterious calls from Waldo Evans (Harold Vermilyea) make no sense to her but clarify the awful truth to the viewer. The last moments of the picture revel in dramatic irony, since we know something that Leona never figures out. Henry, too, has his moment of poetic justice, with the last line of the movie, "Sorry, wrong number," dripping with the implications of what has just happened. Time is up, and nobody has any more nickels. Such is the very essence of noir.

For more of Barbara Stanwyck's fatal women, see Double Indemnity (1944) and The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946). Burt Lancaster's other noir films include The Killers (1946), Brute Force (1947) and Sweet Smell of Success (1957); he won the Oscar for Best Actor for Elmer Gantry (1960) with four career nominations in all. Anatole Litvak also directed City for Conquest (1940), The Snake Pit (1948), and Anastasia (1956).

Classic Films in Focus: THE FLAME AND THE ARROW (1950)

All of the classic swashbuckling stars had good looks and charm, but few, if any, could rival Burt Lancaster for sheer physical prowess. Lancaster earned his Oscar nominations and Best Actor win for dramas, but early in his career he put his background as a circus acrobat to good use in a handful of high adventures, including the 1950 Technicolor spectacle, The Flame and the Arrow. Directed by Jacques Tourneur and costarring Virginia Mayo, as well as Lancaster’s childhood friend Nick Cravat, this old school swashbuckler takes many of its cues from The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). The main attraction, however, is the acrobatic skill of Lancaster and Cravat, who perform a dizzying array of jumps, stunts, and circus tricks as they attempt to save medieval Lombardy from its Hessian overlords.

Lancaster plays the free spirited Dardo, who has been left to raise his son, Rudi (Gordon Gebert), by himself after the defection of his wife, Francesca (Lynn Baggett). When his wife returns to Lombardy with her Hessian lover, Count Ulrich (Frank Allenby), Dardo gets himself and his friends into trouble by showing his contempt for the powerful lord, who seizes Rudi in retaliation. Dardo then leads his men in an effort to overthrow the Hessian oppressors and reclaim his kidnapped son, but his actions bring him unexpected company in the form of Ulrich’s lovely niece, Anne (Virginia Mayo).

Tall and powerfully built, Lancaster certainly looks good in tights, and he performs acrobatic feats almost casually, making them seem deceptively easy. The movie benefits from Lancaster’s skill in action scenes that would normally have to hide a stunt double’s face, and the camera stays close to assure us that Lancaster is, indeed, the heroic figure executing those jumps and swings. Nick Cravat makes a perfect foil to his friend and partner; short, funny, and mute because of his heavy New York accent, he plays a sort of swashbuckling Harpo Marx to Lancaster’s Lombard Robin. The two really get to show off their skills in the climax, when the Lombard rebels infiltrate the castle disguised as members of a traveling circus.

The supporting cast boasts fewer famous faces than the 1938 Robin Hood film, although its characters tend to fill the same functions. Frank Allenby is credibly snide as the Hessian count known as “the Hawk,” and Robert Douglas oozes moral ambivalence as the self-interested Marchese. Child actor Gordon Gebert has a few good scenes as Rudi, although a little of him goes a long way, while Lynn Baggett’s role as faithless Francesca could be more robust. Norman Lloyd proves something of a scene stealer as the wry Apollo, a minor character who obviously stands in for Sherwood’s Alan-a-Dale. Dardo’s Maid Marian is charmingly played by Virginia Mayo, who brings plenty of energy and a pair of well-displayed legs to her role as Anne of Hesse. While she appears in several stunning gowns requisite for this kind of historical pageant, Mayo looks best in the boyish costumes she adopts when riding or being held prisoner in the forest. Her experience as a bad girl in films like White Heat (1949) also gives her an edge in playing the scenes where she attempts to manipulate the Marchese and Dardo; we’re not always sure which side she’s really on, and that makes her character more interesting.

The Flame and the Arrow earned two Oscar nominations, one for Best Color Cinematography and one for Max Steiner’s score. Lancaster won his only Oscar of four Best Actor nominations for Elmer Gantry (1960). See more of Lancaster and Cravat’s acrobatics in The Crimson Pirate (1952), but don’t miss Lancaster in Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), Sweet Smell of Success (1957), and The Professionals (1966). Virginia Mayo also stars in The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and you'll find Gordon Gebert in Holiday Affair (1949) and The House on Telegraph Hill (1951). For more from director Jacques Tourneur, see Cat People (1942), Out of the Past (1947), and Night of the Demon (1957). For even more swashbuckling action, try Captain Blood (1935), The Mark of Zorro (1940), and The Three Musketeers (1948).

The Flame and the Arrow is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.

Classic Films in Focus: SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS (1957)

Arriving late in the era of classic noir, director Alexander Mackendrick’s Sweet Smell of Success (1957) dispenses with any pretense at cool and dives right into the murkiest end of the cesspool, with Tony Curtis’ pretty boy face a thin veneer for unrelenting ugliness. This is the darkest, dirtiest sort of tale, a sordid story of ambition, jealousy, and betrayal. Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster play characters so utterly despicable that they’re painful to watch, even if their performances are brilliantly conceived and crackling with smart talk.

Curtis plays press agent Sidney Falco, who wants success badly enough to play lackey to powerful Broadway columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster). Hunsecker pushes Sidney to break up a romance between the columnist’s kid sister (Susan Harrison) and a jazz musician (Martin Milner), but even Sidney balks at the depths to which Hunsecker wants him to go. When smears in the papers don’t do the trick, Hunsecker arranges for Sidney to frame the lover for drug possession and then set him up for a beating from crooked cops.

The love story between the two young people is the least interesting thing going on in the picture, until the kid sister finally gets desperate enough to play a few of her brother’s tricks. The relationship that really grabs our attention is the sick entanglement of Hunsecker and Falco, two men on different rungs of the ladder but both of them as morally bankrupt as rotten souls could possibly be. Falco is perfectly willing to pimp himself to Hunsecker for the scraps the columnist will toss him, and he’s equally ready to pimp his girlfriend for the same cause. Hunsecker is such a control freak that he can’t stand for his sister to have her own life; he’s willing to destroy a good man just for having the temerity to court her. These two specimens of human depravity are tied to each other as much by hate as by need; Sidney sits smiling a sycophantic grin while Hunsecker holds court and cuts him down, taking every verbal blow without flinching, but underneath we get the sense that he’s keeping score. None of this can end well.

Our story revolves around vicious columnists whose livelihood depends on their poisonous tongues, and the dialogue offers plenty of barbed bons mots. One of the most famous bits, “I’d hate to take a bite out of you. You’re a cookie full of arsenic,” serves as an apt example of the whole. If you like the dirty kicks of crooked conversation, then this is the picture for you, with Curtis and Lancaster both delivering some of the most venomous double-edged lines ever conceived in classic film. It’s wickedly smart stuff, though it leaves a bad taste in the mouth and the mind. Only a rat could get away with saying such awful things, but only rats could behave as badly as Sidney and J.J. do. We long to see both of them poisoned with their own bait and thrown out with the rest of the trash.

Sweet Smell of Success did not do well when it first appeared, but today it’s considered an important accomplishment, despite its flaws. Alexander Mackendrick only directed a dozen films, but his other work includes Ealing comedies like The Man in the White Suit (1951) and The Ladykillers (1954). For more of Burt Lancaster’s films from this era, try Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), Run Silent Run Deep (1958), and Elmer Gantry (1960). Tony Curtis is best remembered for more likable characters in films like Some Like It Hot (1959), Operation Petticoat (1959), and The Great Race (1965). For more late noir, see The Killing (1956), Nightfall (1957), and Touch of Evil (1958).

Classic Movie Stars for Kids

It’s never too early to start watching old movies with your children; if they’re old enough to appreciate Dumbo and Aladdin, then there are plenty of classic movies they can enjoy, and you can watch with them and actually be entertained by the experience. Introduce the youngsters in your life to classic films with the movies of some of these iconic stars. Modern culture constantly builds on and references the classics, so you'll be entertaining your children at the same time that you make them smarter and savvier consumers of their own generation's culture. You might even learn something yourself!

Charlie Chaplin - The Little Tramp still has a magical effect, and children will be as charmed by his sympathetic character as they are amused by the physical comedy. Be warned, though, that Chaplin's best films mingle scenes of suffering and misery with their comedy, and tender-hearted viewers may well end up in tears over the indignities and disappointments endured by Chaplin's childlike hero. The Gold Rush (1925) had our resident junior cinephile sobbing, but she proclaimed the picture a winner in the end. Try Easy Street (1917) for a short introduction to Chaplin's style, then move on to The Gold Rush (1925), The Circus (1928), City Lights (1931), and Modern Times (1936). Revival versions of the silent films feature some narration and sound effects as well as musical scores composed by Chaplin himself. Boys might appreciate knowing that the films of Charlie Chaplin (as well as Buster Keaton) inspired the signature style of movie kung-fu master Jackie Chan, whose pictures often pay homage to specific scenes from Chaplin's films.

The Marx Brothers - Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Zeppo are sure to make young viewers laugh with their comic antics on the screen, while adults will appreciate the subtler humor of Groucho's rapid patter. In addition to being zany comedians, the Marx Brothers were accomplished musicians; kids will marvel at Chico's wild piano numbers and Harpo's amazingly sophisticated performances on the harp. The earliest films can be more difficult for younger viewers to follow; start with A Day at the Races (1937), and then move on to Duck Soup (1933) and A Night in Casablanca (1946) for their faster action and musical numbers. Kids will almost certainly find Virginia O'Brien's bizarre lullaby number in The Big Store (1941) hilarious, even though it ranks at the bottom of Marx Brothers films for most fans. Kids who have seen Animaniacs cartoons will find the Marx Brothers well worth watching; Wakko, Yakko, and Dot frequently take their comedy cues directly from the original sibling team. In addition, your kids will finally know what those silly glasses with the attached mustaches are all about.

Judy Garland - Most kids see The Wizard of Oz (1939) at a very early age, but Garland (born Frances Gumm) made other musicals that younger viewers will also enjoy. In fact, The Wizard of Oz might not be the best place to start with kids because it's really a very frightening film, and plenty of adults will tell you that the winged monkeys, the twister, and the Wicked Witch of the West all inspired their childhood nightmares for years. Try Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), The Harvey Girls (1946), The Pirate (1948), and Easter Parade (1948) for family friendly musical performances from Garland and a host of Hollywood stars. The Harvey Girls is a particularly fun picture with catchy songs and wonderful character actresses; it also features Ray Bolger, who played the lovable Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. The romantic Easter Parade might appeal most to older girls, while The Pirate offers silly Caribbean comedy that younger boys and girls will probably enjoy equally well, especially because Gene Kelly puts in an energetic performance as Garland's rakish love interest. 
(For more about Judy Garland, see "10 classic movies starring Judy Garland" on Examiner.com.)

Burt Lancaster - For kids who love action and adventure, you can hardly do better than Lancaster, whose early career as a street acrobat and circus performer enabled him to include some amazing feats of agility and physical prowess in his swashbuckler films. Look for films that feature Lancaster's childhood friend and partner Nick Cravat; these are the lighter, more family appropriate pictures from Lancaster's long and varied career. The Flame and the Arrow (1950) and The Crimson Pirate (1952) are guaranteed winners, full of thrilling acrobatics and light-hearted escapades. Cravat plays a mute character in both movies because his thick Bronx accent just didn't work in a period setting, but like Charlie Chaplin he proved to be a master of silent expression. Older kids who enjoy Lancaster's robust style will also like The Professionals (1966), but be careful about exposing younger viewers to Lancaster's grittier work. If your youngsters demand more swashbuckling action, move on to classic films from Errol Flynn and Tyrone Power, both of whom made outstanding examples of the genre.

Don't stop there! Classic movies abound with comedy, action, and music to keep the whole family entertained all summer long. If you really want to embark on an exploration of classic films with your kids, try picking up a copy of Ty Burr's 2007 book, The Best Old Movies for Families: A Guide to Watching Together. 

An earlier version of this article was originally posted on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.