Classic Films in Focus: THE UNHOLY THREE (1925)

The Unholy Three (1925) takes director Tod Browning and star Lon Chaney out of the horror genre, but this silent crime drama is still weird enough to satisfy fans of their other films. Many of Browning's favorite motifs are on display, including his obsession with carnival sideshow types, and Chaney, so often deformed to play strange characters, this time adopts the guise of a little old lady with stooped shoulders and a sweet, grandmotherly face. Mae Busch, Harry Earles, and a young Victor McLaglen add to the film's appeal with their performances, with Earles in particular getting the opportunity to prove that his small stature was not the only thing he had to bring to his roles.

Chaney plays sideshow ventriloquist Echo, who hatches a bizarre scheme to commit robberies by posing as the elderly female owner of a bird store. He recruits fellow performers Hercules (Victor McLaglen) and Tweedledee (Harry Earles) as his accomplices, and he also brings along his pick-pocket sweetheart, Rosie (Mae Busch). Echo's plans go awry when Hercules and Tweedledee commit a Christmas Eve robbery without him, and Rosie turns out to be in love with the innocent man they intend to frame for the crime.

Chaney's character resembles many of his other roles in that Echo is not an entirely bad man, but one capable of great good or great evil as a result of his ambitious, jealous nature. Echo loves Rosie more than he is able to express to her; he doesn't even realize how much he cares about her until she falls for the unassuming Hector (Matt Moore). When Rosie pleads with Echo to save Hector from being executed for the trio's crimes, Echo has to choose between selfless love and his own safety. As Echo, Chaney is intense, a man taut with energy and expectation. As Mrs. O'Grady, he hides that masculine identity beneath an old woman's face and clothes, but the best scenes show Echo struggling to repress his real feelings while maintaining his feminine disguise. The ridiculous nature of Echo's impersonation grabs our attention in several scenes, but Browning and Chaney frequently remind us that this is no mere frolic, and the consequences of the trio's robberies are deadly.

Of the supporting players, Victor McLaglen and Matt Moore have the least to do, although seeing McLaglen's impressive physique is quite a thrill. Moore’s milquetoast Hector is the weakest part of the film, even more so than the chimpanzee standing in for a ferocious gorilla. He’s so dull that it’s hard to understand what Rosie sees in him, although Mae Busch gives a very good performance as the bad girl slowly succumbing to her better nature. Harry Earles steals his scenes repeatedly as Tweedledee, who spends much of his time pretending to be a toddler but really has the most violent, selfish nature of the lot. When we first meet him, he kicks a child in the face and then tries to get into a brawl; later he watches the other characters with sharp, calculating eyes, always waiting for an opportunity to get the upper hand. The role provides a fascinating contrast with Earles’ best known part, that of the innocent Hans in Browning’s horror masterpiece, Freaks (1932).

Lon Chaney and Harry Earles reprised their roles for a sound version of The Unholy Three in 1930, with Jack Conway as the director. Tod Browning is best remembered today for Dracula (1931), but his other films with Chaney include The Unknown (1927), West of Zanzibar (1928), and Where East is East (1929). See more of Mae Busch in Foolish Wives (1922), Souls for Sale (1923), and Sons of the Desert (1933). Victor McLaglen won an Oscar for Best Actor for The Informer (1935); a favorite of director John Ford, he makes memorable appearances in Wee Willie Winkie (1937), She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), and The Quiet Man (1952). Browning liked the drag aspect of The Unholy Three enough to revisit it with The Devil-Doll (1936), in which Lionel Barrymore tackles the role of the counterfeit granny.

Classic Films in Focus: SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON (1949)

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949) is the second act in John Ford’s trilogy of cavalry films, and it does indeed wave the patriotic frontier banner pretty fervently, but the title’s feminine pronoun also suggests the picture’s deep preoccupation with the familial and romantic aspects of cavalry life. With John Wayne cast in a distinctly paternal role, this narrative contemplates an older man’s relationship with his substitute children, both the younger officers under his command and a young woman who stands in for his own lost daughters. While the usual Western battles and chases, plus Ford’s beloved Monument Valley, provide the story with its excitement and grandeur, the domestic scenes form its sentimental heart. Wayne and Ford fans justly rank She Wore a Yellow Ribbon as a favorite, but fine performances from Victor McLaglen, Mildred Natwick, and Ben Johnson also help to cement the picture’s enduring appeal.

Wayne plays Captain Nathan Brittles, a career cavalry officer facing a plethora of problems in the days just before his retirement. A massive Indian uprising is destabilizing the entire territory, even as Brittles’ commanding officer (George O’Brien) saddles his patrol with two women trying to catch the stagecoach back to the East. The tough and experienced Abby Allshard (Mildred Natwick) proves her mettle as a cavalry officer’s wife, but her attractive niece, Olivia (Joanne Dru), creates conflict between Brittles’ junior officers, Lieutenant Cohill (John Agar) and Lieutenant Pennell (Harry Carey, Jr.). With the brash younger chiefs of the tribes stirring up trouble and the women slowing his progress, Brittles must keep order within his ranks and strive to head off a deadly frontier war.

John Wayne gives a particularly sensitive performance that prefigures some of his later, more mature roles, especially those in which he takes on overtly paternal roles. In his early forties when he made this picture, Wayne is aged with a little makeup and a lot of gray hair to portray the older Captain Brittles, who dreads his retirement from the only life he has known for forty years. The usual Duke bravado is tempered by Brittles’ emotional attachment to his long dead wife, who lies buried in the fort’s cemetery along with his two small daughters. Brittles frequently visits the graves to tend to them and report on the day’s events. We understand that his fatherly interest in the headstrong Olivia has a lot to do with his yearning for his lost family; his own daughters might be about Olivia’s age had they lived, and he even tells his wife that Olivia reminds him of her. With the living he is less able to articulate his feelings; he silently pats Olivia on the shoulder and jokingly bickers with his devoted comrade, Sgt. Quincannon (Victor McLaglen), but the people around him know exactly how to interpret his behavior, and he is fiercely admired and respected by his men.

Ford stocks the supporting cast with his usual company of players, a reliable crowd of tremendously talented actors who lend both humor and gravitas to all of Ford’s films. Victor McLaglen provides comic relief as the thirsty sergeant who is following his captain into retirement, while Mildred Natwick brings great courage and warmth to her role as “Old Iron Pants,” the cavalry wife who only leaves the fort to get her niece away before the long, hard winter. John Agar and Harry Carey, Jr. both look fine in their blue uniforms, even if Carey seems a bit miscast as a privileged son of eastern wealth, but Ben Johnson steals their thunder with his charismatic, casually brave Southerner, Sgt. Tyree. It’s never clear why Olivia doesn’t set her sights on him instead of the other young men. Beautiful Joanne Dru, who had already starred with John Wayne in Red River (1948), makes an excellent Olivia; her strong chin and flashing eyes tell us that she could, in fact, “be Army” if she would just set aside her stubborn pride and settle on one of her suitors. Filling in the smaller roles are George O’Brien, Arthur Shields, and Chief John Big Tree as the elderly Pony That Walks, who laments that old men like himself and Brittles cannot stop young men from going to war.

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon won an Oscar for its sweeping Technicolor cinematography, making it the only Academy Award winner or nominee of the cavalry trilogy. For the full trio, see Fort Apache (1948) and Rio Grande (1950). John Ford’s best pictures with John Wayne include Stagecoach (1939), The Searchers (1956), and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), though you’ll find Victor McLaglen and Mildred Natwick joining the director and star for memorable roles in the cherished Irish romance, The Quiet Man (1952). Catch Ben Johnson, Joanne Dru, and Harry Carey, Jr. in Ford’s Wagon Master (1950). Take time to appreciate Ford’s love affair with popular songs and music; just as “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon” dominates the score of this film, so “Streets of Laredo” informs 3 Godfathers (1948) and “My Darling Clementine” lends its yearning theme to the 1946 film that shares its name.

Classic Films in Focus: WEE WILLIE WINKIE (1937)

John Ford, best known as the director of masterful Westerns like Stagecoach (1939) and The Searchers (1956), seems an odd choice for a Shirley Temple feature, but the story that actually unfolds in Wee Willie Winkie (1937) plays on many of Ford's favorite themes. Darker and more mature than most of Temple's childhood movies, Wee Willie Winkie might not appeal to youngsters as much as some of her other films, but it makes worthwhile viewing for adult fans of either the director or the star.

Priscilla Williams (Temple) and her widowed mother, Joyce (June Lang), arrive in colonial India to live with Priscilla's grandfather, Colonel Williams (C. Aubrey Smith). Priscilla, nicknamed Private Winkie by the soldiers, befriends both the burly Sergeant MacDuff (Victor McLaglen) and the captured rebel leader, Khoda Khan (Cesar Romero), while her mother falls for a handsome lieutenant (Michael Whalen). A treacherous spy, however, helps Khoda Khan escape and puts Priscilla in the middle of a deadly confrontation between the British soldiers and the rebel troops.

The film's most important relationship is that developed between Priscilla and MacDuff, who proves far more paternal than any of the other men in the little girl's life. McLaglen gives his character tremendous appeal, and his death part way through the film highlights the adult nature of the story. If your children aren't ready for Bambi (1942), then they aren't ready for Wee Willie Winkie, either. Most Temple films build on a tragic backstory that is already in the heroine's past, but these offscreen events generally pass over the heads of young viewers without much observation. With the death of MacDuff, Ford brings the child protagonist's experience of loss right into the foreground, and, while it works beautifully, it left my resident junior film fan so traumatized that she almost refused to watch the rest of the picture.

The secondary plots fall short of this emotional power. The budding romance between Priscilla's mother and the lieutenant lacks heart, partly because Michael Whalen is awfully dull. It doesn't help that charismatic Cesar Romero is there as an unrealized alternative; a story in which Joyce fell in love with him might have been really interesting. Chinese actor Willie Fung makes an especially ridiculous and unpalatable traitor; he had appeared with Temple in Stowaway (1936), but nobody is going to believe he's Indian for a second, and his character seems to be something of a lunatic to boot.

John Ford directed Temple again in the 1948 film, Fort Apache, which makes a good follow-up to Wee Willie Winkie and also features Victor McLaglen. If colonial India proves appealing, see Gunga Din (1939), which also stars McLaglen as a British soldier, this time in company with Cary Grant and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. You'll find Cesar Romero playing another Indian character in Temple's signature film, The Little Princess (1939). For more of Temple's most compelling early work, see Bright Eyes (1934), Captain January (1936), and Heidi (1937).

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

Classic Films in Focus: FORT APACHE (1948)

The classic Western has many moods, but the tone of John Ford's Fort Apache (1948) is decidedly dark. Its clouds gather slowly, relieved sometimes by deceptive moments of gaiety and light, but still the storm comes on. Loosely based on the events of Custer's Last Stand, Fort Apache is technically a John Wayne picture, although Wayne takes a secondary role, while the full weight of hubris and its subsequent punishment fall on the shoulders of Henry Fonda as the doomed colonel who stubbornly leads his men to death.

Fonda plays Lieutenant Colonel Owen Thursday, who arrives with his sprightly daughter, Philadelphia (Shirley Temple), at Fort Apache only to upset the balance of the residents' lives. Determined to win glory and prove himself to the world, Thursday ignores the experience and advice of those around him, including the seasoned Captain York (Wayne), and pushes toward a disastrous encounter with the Apache chief, Cochise, and his warriors.

Ford balances comedy and tragedy in his scenes and his actors, reflecting the ebb and flow of ordinary life, even in times of crisis. Without Thursday, the denizens of the fort have formed a benevolent community of friendship and mutual respect, but their new leader soon undermines their peace with his arrogance and contempt. He even forbids his daughter to keep company with the fort's favorite son, although the young lovers persist in their romance in spite of his authority. As Thursday, Fonda gives a brilliantly layered performance; he knows to soften just enough every now and then to keep us hoping that he'll live to see the error of his ways, even though his doom is clearly written on his brow. Temple is pertly pretty as Philadelphia, an energetic rather than an elegant girl, but filled with a pioneer spirit that promises much for her survival in this untamed frontier. Wayne watches the events unfold with a grim recognition of the coming end, but his presence is a comfort to the viewer because we know that he can be trusted when everything else falls apart.

Other supporting players also contribute to the film's powerful effect. Ward Bond is jovial and kind as the O'Rourke family patriarch, and George O'Brien has a particularly moving role as Captain Collingwood. Anna Lee and Irene Rich make the fort's women solid and sympathetic, and Guy Kibbee is very good as the sociable doctor. Ford favorites like Victor McLaglen and Pedro Armendariz also put in reliable character performances. The role of young Michael O'Rourke was the first screen appearance of John Agar, who happened to be married to Shirley Temple at the time. The couple would divorce in 1949, but Agar's acting career continued, and he went on to appear in a number of noteworthy Westerns, including Ford's She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949) and Big Jake (1971), as well as many cult sci-fi films.

For more of John Ford's Westerns with John Wayne, see Stagecoach (1939), The Searchers (1956), and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). Fonda made a number of memorable Westerns, including The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) and My Darling Clementine (1946), but you could also explore other sides of the actor in Jezebel (1938), The Lady Eve (1941), and 12 Angry Men (1957). See more of teenage Shirley Temple in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947), or for contrast catch her earlier work with John Ford in Wee Willie Winkie (1937). With well over 200 screen appearances, the marvelous character actor Ward Bond can be found almost everywhere, from The Maltese Falcon (1941) to It's a Wonderful Life (1946) and Rio Bravo (1959), but he was a particular favorite with John Ford, who gave him memorable roles in many of his films.

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