Classic Films in Focus: BLONDE CRAZY (1931)

Blonde Crazy (1931) is a Pre-Code cracker that really puts the slap in its slapstick, with Joan Blondell regularly smacking costar James Cagney as the pair make their way through a series of scams and double crosses. Cagney's conman deserves Blondell's tough love; his Bert is too smart for his own good and always on the make, especially when attractive women turn up, but Cagney works the flawed charm of the character for all he's worth, and he and Blondell have excellent chemistry. Director Roy Del Ruth skillfully handles the mix of comedy and drama in this Depression Era tale of likable schemers, which also features Louis Calhern, Ray Milland, and Guy Kibbee.

Cagney plays enterprising hotel bellhop Bert, who uses his job primarily as an opportunity to run crooked schemes. He helps Anne (Joan Blondell) get a position at the hotel in order to chat her up, but when she forcefully rejects his smooth talk he ends up making her his partner instead. The pair work their way up and out of the hotel, but in the city they become entangled with big time conman Dapper Dan (Louis Calhern) and his partner, Helen (Noel Francis). Anne eventually tires of Bert's relentless schemes and falls for the seemingly straight arrow Joe (Ray Milland), but Joe turns out to have a few crooked angles of his own.

There's plenty of tantalizing Pre-Code action in Blonde Crazy, with illicit booze, gambling, adultery, honey traps, robbery, and Joan Blondell's brassiere stuffed full of cash. It's a world of moral relativity that Blondell's character enters somewhat by accident; she's not naturally crooked but is tough enough to handle herself in spite of constant sexual harassment. Anne isn't much bothered by Bert's scams because he usually swindles other swindlers, but she draws the line at outright robbery. When she decides to get out of the game and marry Joe, Bert realizes that he's missed out on his opportunity for a better life with Anne by his side, and he quits, too. Bert's inclination to go straight is then ironically thwarted by Anne's distress when Joe is revealed as the worst crook of them all.

Cagney and Blondell carry the picture with their performances, with Cagney clearly relishing the wolfish energy of his character and Blondell striking just the right balance between cynicism and vulnerability. Bert's favorite endearment, a drawled "Hoooney!" that he often directs at Anne, rolls out of Cagney's mouth with a cocksure smirk that perfectly sums up his personality. Supporting the pair most notably are Louis Calhern and Noel Francis as con artists who make a mark of Bert and cheat him out of his own ill-gotten cash. Their ruthless efficiency makes our protagonists look like angels, but Anne figures out a way to get even with them. Guy Kibbee makes a memorable appearance as one of Bert and Anne's early marks, while Ray Milland pops up fairly late in the picture as the rival for Anne's affections. We don't really see enough of Milland's Joe to form opinions about him until the very end, and it's kind of a shame that Milland doesn't get to work that shifty glint in Joe's eye a little more before his final act of selfish betrayal.

Roy Del Ruth, who started in the silent era, directed a wide variety of pictures, including Born to Dance (1936), It Happened on 5th Avenue (1947), and The Alligator People (1959). For more of Cagney and Blondell together, see The Public Enemy (1931), The Crowd Roars (1932), Footlight Parade (1933), and He Was Her Man (1934). Ray Milland is just a young up-and-comer in Blonde Crazy; catch him in his prime in the 1940s in The Major and the Minor (1942), The Uninvited (1944), and The Lost Weekend (1945).


Blonde Crazy is currently streaming on FilmStruck.

Classic Films in Focus: EACH DAWN I DIE (1939)

As its grim title suggests, Each Dawn I Die (1939) is an explosive drama awash in death and violence, as only Warner Brothers' 1930s gangster and prison films could deliver them. William Keighley directs the parade of brutal injustice with James Cagney and George Raft as the chief victims of a horrifically corrupt system that destroys human beings without regard for their innocence or rehabilitation. Cagney's journalist hero has chosen the moral high ground as a crusader against graft and crime, but he ends up in the same place as Raft's sympathetic gangster, and in prison Cagney learns the extent of systemic cruelty. At once a riveting drama about loyalty and a scathing critique of inhumane American prisons, Each Dawn I Die gives Cagney and Raft terrific opportunities to showcase their dramatic talents.

Cagney plays hard-driving investigative reporter Frank Ross, whose efforts to uncover political corruption put him on a crooked governor's hit list. Kidnapped and set up for a drunken driving manslaughter charge, Frank gets sent to hard labor in prison, where he earns the respect of other inmates for his tough, principled behavior. He becomes especially close to gangster Hood Stacey (George Raft), who appreciates Frank's refusal to snitch. When Stacey asks Frank to help him escape, he promises to work to clear Frank's name on the outside, but Frank suffers horrifically for his loyalty while Stacey waffles about keeping his word.

Although it features a daring escape, numerous scenes of shocking cruelty, and a wildly violent gun battle finale, Each Dawn I Die is deeply invested in its story of an unlikely friendship forged in the most intolerable circumstances. Both Frank and Stacey appear as fully realized, complex characters, despite their tough talk and glaring eyes. We come to understand that they are not so different, that both men have reacted to a corrupt, unforgiving world in the way that seemed available to them. Frank fights, Stacey assimilates, but they suffer the same fate because the system devours both its enemies and its own. Cagney and Raft deliver performances that make these characters feel very real; each has a dynamic arc that allows the actors to demonstrate their range. Cagney is especially powerful in Frank's moments of anguish and rage, showing the darkness that even a good man can embrace when his humanity is denied. Raft shines as a dangerous tough guy early on, but his slow awakening to Frank's worth reminds us that he is still a human being, too, one who has become a criminal because he thought that was simply the way of the world.

The stories of the secondary characters add nuance to the central plot, with several supporting players giving very fine performances. Jane Bryan is lovely and determined as Frank's girlfriend, Joyce, who never stops trying to save him. The couple's brief moments together at the prison are tearjerker scenes of love and misery, especially when Joyce comes to see Frank after his long, agonizing months in the hole. Maxie Rosenbloom adds a hint of comic affability to the tragedy of his character, Fargo Red, an inmate who is just another everyman chewed up by the relentless system. Louis Jean Heydt plays a similar character, but purely for tragic effect; his Lassiter becomes a victim of the sadistic guard, Pete, performed with vicious brilliance by John Wray. It's a thankless task to play the kind of villain Wray takes on in Pete, since everything about him is deplorable, but he perfectly embodies the cruelty of the system as a whole. George Bancroft has a small but important role as Stacey's lawyer, and Victor Jory makes a brief but memorable appearance as Grayce, the corrupt head of the parole board who ensures that Frank's petition will be denied.

For more gangster drama from William Keighley, try 'G' Men (1935), Special Agent (1935), and Bullets or Ballots (1938). Catch Cagney as the gangster in The Public Enemy (1931), Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), and White Heat (1949). George Raft, who grew up in Hell's Kitchen, always looks at home in a tough guy role; he's best remembered for his role in Scarface (1932), but don't miss him in They Drive by Night (1940) and Some Like It Hot (1959). If classic prison movies appeal, return to the big house with I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932), Brute Force (1947), or Caged (1950).

Classic Films in Focus: THE OKLAHOMA KID (1939)

Given its focus on the settling of Oklahoma and the founding of Tulsa, The Oklahoma Kid (1939) almost certainly has its fans in the Sooner State, but for the most part this Warner Bros. Western is a fairly routine oater, with plenty of stock characters and plot elements to amuse the matinee crowd. It does, however, boast a very unusual pair of lead actors in James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart, who don cowboy hats and spurs to fight it out as the free-spirited Oklahoma Kid and his scheming nemesis, Whip McCord. Classic movie fans will find that combination hard to resist, if only because of curiosity, and the picture also offers solid supporting performances from favorites like Donald Crisp and Ward Bond. It’s by no means one of the great Westerns, but The Oklahoma Kid has enough going for it to make it worth seeing, even if it simultaneously proves that neither of its iconic stars is really cut out for the genre.

Cagney plays the footloose Oklahoma Kid, who finds his territory changing as Western expansion brings white settlers to the fertile Cherokee Strip. The Kid makes an enemy of Whip McCord (Bogart) and his gang by appropriating their stolen cash for himself, but things get personal when McCord frames an upstanding citizen, John Kincaid (Hugh Sothern), for murder, not knowing that Kincaid is the Kid’s estranged father. While the Kid’s brother, Ned (Harvey Stephens), and Judge Hardwick (Donald Crisp) try to use the law to free Kincaid, the Kid looks for a different kind of justice to bring McCord and his henchmen to account for their crimes.

Both Cagney and Bogart are great actors, but neither of them really looks at home on the range. They are much more credible as urban gangsters in their other movies together, like Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) and The Roaring Twenties (1939), and in their films alone. It’s easy enough to imagine more familiar Western stars replacing them in The Oklahoma Kid and bringing more authenticity to their roles, but both performers give it their best effort. Bogart, an excellent heavy in The Petrified Forest (1936), knows how to seethe and look dangerous, even if his black outfit and oddly Victorian head of hair don’t quite suit him. Cagney plays the Kid as a typical Cagney character from this era, a mixture of menace and good humor, always occupying the vast gray area of moral territory. When he isn’t stealing things or getting into gunfights, he flirts with Ned’s girlfriend, Jane (Rosemary Lane), and sings Spanish lullabies to Mexican babies. We can believe in both the amiable Cagney and the dangerous one, even if we never quite buy the idea that he’s an actual cowboy.

The supporting players in The Oklahoma Kid prove more credible as denizens of the Western frontier, especially genre stalwart Ward Bond as a member of McCord’s outlaw gang. Donald Crisp, always reliable as a paternal authority figure, brings his usual gravitas to the role of Judge Hardwick, who likes the Kid even though they have very different views on civilization and the law. Rosemary Lane makes a pretty love interest for Cagney, although the idea of the Kid’s rivalry for her with his brother, Ned, goes mostly undeveloped, and Harvey Stephens has very little to do as Ned until the final scenes of the picture. Other familiar faces in the background include Charles Middleton, Arthur Aylesworth, and Trevor Bardette as residents of frontier Tulsa, along with the chronically uncredited Stuart Holmes in a brief appearance as President Grover Cleveland.

Lloyd Bacon, who directed The Oklahoma Kid, made a steady stream of pictures for Warner, including 42nd Street (1933), Marked Woman (1937), and Knute Rockne All American (1940). Bogart made another attempt at the Western with Virginia City (1940), while Cagney returned to the genre for Tribute to a Bad Man (1956), but it’s better to see them in their natural habitats first. You’ll find Rosemary Lane in Hollywood Hotel (1937), The Return of Doctor X (1939), and Trocadero (1944). Don’t miss the venerable Donald Crisp in the excellent Anthony Mann Western, The Man from Laramie (1955), although he is best remembered today for his fatherly roles in How Green Was My Valley (1941), Lassie Come Home (1943), and National Velvet (1944).

The Oklahoma Kid is now available on DVD from Warner Archive. Warner provided the reviewer with a free copy of the film, with no promise or expectation of a positive review.

Classic Films in Focus: JIMMY THE GENT (1934)

James Cagney and Bette Davis only made two pictures together, the first of which was Jimmy the Gent (1934), and the second The Bride Came C.O.D. (1941). The pairing of these two huge personalities might seem like a match made in heaven, but neither of their collaborations is as good as their individual films, perhaps because both put Bette Davis into uncertain territory as a comedic heroine. In Jimmy the Gent, Michael Curtiz directs the two stars through a rocky romance that plays like a tamer version of a typical Pre-Code comedy, which makes sense given the movie’s release date in 1934, just as the Hays Code really started to be enforced. There are laughs to be found in Jimmy the Gent, thanks to Cagney and the daffy charms of Alice White, but the picture will mostly appeal to those who have a vested interest in the careers of the two iconic leads.

Cagney plays Jimmy Corrigan, who specializes in providing imaginary heirs for the fortunes of dead millionaires, with a generous cut for himself as the reward. Bette Davis bristles as the more ethical Joan Martin, who used to work for Jimmy but jumped ship to his upscale rival, Wallingham (Alan Dinehart). As Jimmy makes an effort to polish his act, he and Wallingham end up supporting rival heirs to an old lady’s fortune, but Jimmy’s real plan is to win back Joan by exposing Wallingham as a cheat and a heel.

With his shaved head topped with a cockscomb of wavy hair, Cagney has the feisty demeanor of a barnyard rooster, strutting and crowing in an office full of attractive hens. He plays up the comedic aspects of his character, who talks like a gangster but is really a much milder kind of crook, and his most violent acts involve throwing things at his sidekick, Louie (Allen Jenkins). Jimmy yearns for class and the appearance of respectability, but he doesn’t fully comprehend either. In fact, Jimmy is crooked to the core; even his show of “ethics” to win back Joan is merely that. Cagney invests the character with such energy and humor that we want to like him in spite of his amoral behavior, but some of his dealings are so shady that it’s hard to forgive him, especially when Jimmy plans ahead of time to cheat Gladys Farrell (Mayo Methot) out of her cut of the money that he promises to give her.

Bette Davis ends up being another problem with our final sense of the picture. A different leading lady, perhaps Jean Harlow or Joan Blondell, might have made Jimmy the Gent a real corker of a comedy, but Bette Davis plays it perfectly straight, and her performance creates a jarring sense of dual genres. The shift is especially noticeable in her scenes with Alan Dinehart, when his smirks and double takes contrast with her melodramatic delivery of her lines. The movie also saddles Davis with an odd hairstyle and camera angles that don’t necessarily flatter her face, but this is still early in her career, before she was a big enough star to have a say in such matters. Her breakout role would come later the same year, when her dramatic talents were put to much better use in Of Human Bondage (1934). I would never say that Bette Davis was bad in anything, but Jimmy the Gent is by no means the best place to see her, and her performance suggests that she knows this isn't her kind of movie or the sort of character she was meant to play.

For more of Cagney’s early comedic roles, try Blonde Crazy (1931), Lady Killer (1933), and A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935). See Bette Davis come into her own in The Petrified Forest (1936), Marked Woman (1937), and Jezebel (1938). Bette Davis could do comedy very well when the material was right; try, for example, the very funny It's Love I'm After (1937), in which Davis stars with Leslie Howard and Olivia de Havilland. For more of Allen Jenkins, look for Lawyer Man (1932), Blondie Johnson (1933), and The Mayor of Hell (1933). Michael Curtiz is best remembered today as the director of Casablanca (1942), but his other films from the early 1930s include Doctor X (1932), Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933), and Captain Blood (1935).

Jimmy the Gent is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.

TCM Summer Under the Stars: Doris Day in LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME (1955)

This post is part of the 2013 TCM Summer Under the Stars Blogathon hosted by Sittin' on a Backyard Fence and ScribeHard on Film. Visit their sites for all of the blogathon posts for each day in August!

I normally turn to Doris Day when I'm feeling down and need the cinematic equivalent of a cupcake - something light, sweet, and fun to chase the blues away. Musicals like Romance on the High Seas (1948), It's a Great Feeling (1949), and Calamity Jane (1953) - all airing on Turner Classic Movies during the Doris Day Summer Under the Stars marathon - certainly fit that bill, and they're the kind of picture Day is best known for today, along with her romantic comedies costarring Rock Hudson. Still, Doris Day could turn on the dramatic power when the role called for it, and Love Me or Leave Me (1955) is a great example of the darker side of Day.

Our leading lady stars as real life jazz singer Ruth Etting, who makes her way from 10 cents a dance girl to Hollywood star thanks to her own talent and the relentless efforts of her Chicago gangster promoter, Martin Snyder, played in the film by the terrific James Cagney. Ruth eventually marries Martin out of a sense of obligation to him (and perhaps fear of his jealous temper), but her heart really belongs to Johnny (Cameron Mitchell), a handsome pianist who finds his own route to Hollywood success. When Ruth and Johnny meet again in Hollywood after several years apart, Ruth's marriage to Martin reaches a violent climax.

Of course Day is an obvious choice to play a great singer, but she also does an excellent job depicting the unhappiness and bitter resignation that Ruth endures during her marriage to Martin. During the second half of the film, she manages to show the miles traveled through Ruth's expressions and body language without actually being one bit less attractive, and she really holds her own in the tense scenes with Cagney's powder keg Martin. The movie also shows off Day's more usual charms with a series of memorable song numbers and some gorgeous costumes, but the dramatic story is the heart of Love Me or Leave Me, and that's where Day really comes through.

Cagney gives his costar plenty to work with as the volatile Martin; he manages to convince the audience that his character really does love Ruth but has no idea how to show it without being a domineering brute, and that delicate balance helps to justify the way the story ends. It's ironic to see Cagney, himself such an accomplished hoofer, limping around as a man often known as "The Gimp," but the role does recall his gangster characters from the 1930s; he was 56 when this film was released, but he still has the powerful presence of a much younger man. Cagney earned an Oscar nomination for Best Actor for his performance in this film; it was his third and final nomination for the award, with his only win for Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) more than a decade earlier.

Love Me or Leave Me garnered a total of six Oscar nominations, but it won only for Best Story. You'll have to be a real night owl or a DVR user to catch Love Me or Leave Me during the TCM event, since it airs at 3:45 AM Eastern time, but it's well worth the effort. Catch some of the lighter Day films for the sake of contrast earlier in the lineup, especially the popular favorite, Calamity Jane (1953), which airs in the prime time spot at 8 PM on Friday, August 2. Check out the TCM website for a full schedule of films that will air during the Summer Under the Stars event.

Classic Films in Focus: THE BRIDE CAME C.O.D. (1941)

One does not generally think of Bette Davis as a comedienne, but The Bride Came C.O.D. (1941) provides a rare glimpse of the actress as a screwball heroine of the type more frequently played by Katharine Hepburn or Claudette Colbert. Directed by William Keighley and co-starring James Cagney, The Bride Came C.O.D. is not one of Davis' better known films or one of her best, but it's still a fun picture, especially because it offers such a different perspective on its two stars.

Davis plays oil heiress Joan Winfield, a spoiled rich girl whose whirlwind romance with a publicity-hungry band leader (Jack Carson) leads to an elopement. Joan's father (Eugene Pallette) opposes the match and accepts a deal with the couple's hired pilot, Steve Collins (James Cagney), to thwart the wedding. In order to keep Joan from tying the knot, Steve kidnaps her in his plane, but the two end up stranded in a desert ghost town where the only resident is an eccentric old man called Pop (Harry Davenport). Stuck with each other, Joan and Steve bicker their way toward romance, much to the amusement of Pop, but a widely publicized search for the missing bride makes Steve a wanted man.

In Dark Victory: The Life of Bette Davis, biographer Ed Sikov writes this movie off as "the worst screwball comedy ever made," but that's really an unfair assessment of the film. Davis looks great and seems to be having a wonderful time, and Cagney's own tremendous personality perfectly matches hers. It's a shame that they didn't make more films together. Admittedly, some of the gags wear thin by the movie's end; Bette Davis' rear seems magnetically attracted to every cactus in the desert, and the jokes about her weight won't get laughs from many female viewers. Davis does, however, get to cut loose for a change, and she and Cagney have the right chemistry for screwball romance. Cagney, of course, had more experience with comedy than his leading lady, and he also looks like he's enjoying himself quite a bit. He and Davis are both experts at salty, derisive dialogue and a well-timed, mocking laugh, and the relationship between Joan and Steve builds on these shared aspects of their temperaments.

Look for reliable character actors Eugene Pallette and William Frawley in supporting roles. Harry Davenport is very funny as Pop Tolliver, the crusty loner whose dilapidated hotel serves as a refuge for Joan and Steve. Davis and Cagney also star together in the 1934 film Jimmy the Gent, directed by Michael Curtiz. Contrast Davis' performance here with her better-known performances in Jezebel (1938), Dark Victory (1939), and All About Eve (1950). See classic Cagney in The Public Enemy (1931), Footlight Parade (1933), and Angels with Dirty Faces (1938). For more from director William Keighley, try The Prince and the Pauper (1937) and The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938).

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

Classic Films in Focus: ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES (1938)

The early 30s were the heyday of gangster pictures, with movies like The Public Enemy (1931) and Scarface (1932) heating up the screen. By the end of the decade the moral arbiters had become alarmed about gangster movies being a bad influence on the kids in the audience; therefore, pictures that featured gangster characters were supposed to show that the bad guys would always get their comeuppance in the end. Of course, the gangsters had died in the earlier movies, too, but they had always gone out with a bang. Director Michael Curtiz's Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) pays some lip service to moral rectitude in its juxtaposition of James Cagney's doomed criminal with Pat O'Brien's saintly priest; certainly, its shocking finale seems to support the attempt to strip crime of its glamor, but ultimately it undermines its own ending to give us yet another example of Cagney's brilliance at playing the seductive thug.

Cagney stars as Rocky Sullivan, who learns to become a career criminal in juvenile hall after getting caught in a youthful crime. His pal and accomplice, Jerry Connolly (Pat O'Brien), outran the cops that fateful day and grows up to be a Catholic priest in the same poor neighborhood where he and Rocky were kids. When Rocky gets out of his most recent stint in prison, he reunites with Jerry while horning his way into some crooked business schemes managed by his underhanded lawyer, James Frazier (Humphrey Bogart), and cohort Mac Keefer (George Bancroft). Jerry wants to save Rocky, but even more he wants to save the neighborhood kids from following Rocky's example, and when Rocky gets caught for the last time Jerry asks him to make a terrible sacrifice for the boys' benefit.

Cagney's appeal as Rocky is tremendous, and Pat O'Brien really doesn't have a chance against him with the audience's sympathies. The two of them are like those cartoons of the Faustian angel and devil on somebody's shoulders, and the angel is always the most obnoxious bore. It's easy enough to see that we're supposed to like Jerry Connolly better and that he obviously occupies the moral high ground, but Rocky is more fun every step of the way, and in the end Rocky even turns out to be the better man since the scope of his sacrifice is far beyond anything that Father Jerry will ever be asked to do. I side with the opinion that Rocky's final performance in the gas chamber is just that, although some people insist that it's meant to be ambiguous. The Dead End Kids might buy Father Jerry's story that Rocky went out yellow, but the audience, I think, is meant to know a wink at the Hays Code when they see one.

The supporting cast gives the movie additional depth and character. Ann Sheridan has great appeal as Rocky's love interest, and Bogart exudes sweaty cowardice as the two-timing lawyer. The Dead End Kids run amok like gritty boy versions of the cast of Annie; they had started out on Broadway in Dead End and come to Hollywood as a package deal; their first film appearance was a 1937 screen adaptation of the play, but they proved popular with audiences and made several subsequent films. Take time to appreciate Frankie Burke, the actor who plays Rocky as a boy; he really does a great job capturing the persona of a youthful Cagney.

Angels with Dirty Faces picked up three Oscar nominations, including nominations for Cagney and Curtiz, but it went home empty-handed. Cagney would eventually win his only Oscar for a very different role in Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942). For more of Cagney's great gangsters, see The Public Enemy (1931) and White Heat (1949). Bogart plays more bad guys in The Petrified Forest (1936) and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948). For a change of pace, try one of Michael Curtiz's other 1938 films, The Adventures of Robin Hood. Curtiz actually earned two nominations for Best Director in 1939, one for Angels and one for the Claude Rains drama, Four Daughters (1938); even though he lost to Frank Capra for You Can't Take It with You (1938), that's still an impressive accomplishment. He would win the Oscar a few years later for directing the immortal Casablanca (1942).

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