Classic Films in Focus: TREASURE ISLAND (1950)

Long before Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney set sail for Treasure Island (1950), a production that charted new territory for the studio as its first live action feature. Adapted from Robert Louis Stevenson's influential tale of buccaneers and  buried gold, the Disney version edits its source material to focus primarily on the relationship between Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver, a standard approach for film treatments before and since. What it loses in fidelity to the original, the Disney Treasure Island makes up for with Robert Newton's iconic turn as the infamous one-legged pirate, at once comical and menacing, and easily the most memorable aspect of the film, although Byron Haskin provides brisk direction of the action through a colorful backdrop of coastal towns and exotic island settings.

Bobby Driscoll stars as Jim Hawkins, a young boy thrust into adventure when a dying pirate named Billy Bones (Finlay Currie) hands him a map to buried treasure. Soon, Jim embarks as cabin boy on a voyage to discover the loot, with Squire Trelawney (Walter Fitzgerald) and Dr. Livesey (Denis O'Dea) as his companions and protectors. Jim also develops a friendship with the ship's cook, Long John Silver (Robert Newton), not suspecting that Silver is really a ruthless pirate who has his own plans for taking over the ship and claiming the buried treasure for himself.

The adaptation is not without its problems. Bobby Driscoll, best remembered as the voice of Peter Pan, is an obvious choice for Jim from the studio's perspective, since the child star had already appeared in numerous Disney pictures, but he is much too flatly American for the role, and he has an unfortunate habit of squinting, open-mouthed, at adult characters when they speak. Ben Gunn, played by Geoffrey Wilkinson, is also a weak point with his shrill, over-the-top wild man act, but his part is so truncated that he has few opportunities to offend. The other supporting players generally fare better, especially Denis O'Dea and Walter Fitzgerald, but they also get little screen time to develop their characters, and Finlay Currie is sadly underused as Billy Bones. Not a single female character appears in the picture at all, making this movie quite the boys only affair, although Stevenson's novel provides a good supporting part in Jim's hard-working, determined mother.

On the plus side, the scenery is exciting and authentic looking, even though the movie was shot in England rather than the West Indies, and the action rolls along without any slow spots. Moreover, Robert Newton takes control of every scene in which he appears, making the most of the picture's best role. In film adaptations of Treasure Island, Jim Hawkins is only the nominal protagonist, and Long John Silver is always the star. Newton effectively conveys Silver's mix of geniality and calculation; we never can tell which side he really wants to be on, and when we think we know him he surprises us again. Newton's delivery of his lines informs our idea of what a pirate is supposed to sound like, while his appearance, with his one leg, his talking parrot, and his swarthy, dark looks, has become the model of the stereotypical buccaneer. Newton became so identified with the role that he reprised it for Long John Silver (1954) and the television series, The Adventures of Long John Silver (1956-1957), but neither proved as successful as the original outing, and Newton died in 1956.

For more film adaptations of Treasure Island, try the 1934 version with Wallace Beery and Jackie Cooper or Muppet Treasure Island (1996), with Tim Curry as Long John. See Robert Newton in The Beachcomber (1938), This Happy Breed (1944), and Oliver Twist (1948). Bobby Driscoll also stars in Song of the South (1946), So Dear to My Heart (1948), and The Window (1949). Get a better appreciation for Finlay Currie in Great Expectations (1946) and People Will Talk (1951). For something really different from director Byron Haskin, try Robinson Crusoe on Mars (1964).

Classic Films in Focus: TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (1962)

To Kill a Mockingbird is iconic as both a literary and a cinematic work, to such an extent that it's hard to say which version enjoys greater acclaim today. The 1962 film adaptation of Harper Lee's enduring story remains widely popular with viewers more than fifty years after its release, and for its star, Gregory Peck, the role of Atticus Finch proved a defining moment. Although Horton Foote's screenplay makes many changes to the original material, the essence of the story remains, and Peck's Oscar-winning performance is enhanced by the skillful direction of Robert Mulligan and the support of a very convincing cast, which includes Brock Peters and a very young Robert Duvall.

The story follows young Scout Finch (Mary Badham) and her brother, Jem (Phillip Alford), through the more eventful moments of their childhoods in the small Alabama town of Maycomb. Scout, Jem, and their friend, Dill (John Megna), spend their free time wondering about their mysterious neighbor, Boo Radley (Robert Duvall), but their lives are changed when their father, Atticus (Gregory Peck), is assigned to defend a black man accused of raping a white woman. Their friends and neighbors reveal the ugliness of racial prejudice as Atticus is criticized for doing his best to defend Tom Robinson (Brock Peters) in court, even though his guilt is far from certain.

Although Scout's first person narration makes her the obvious protagonist of Harper Lee's novel, the film shifts the focus to Atticus, and in some scenes Scout is not even present. The change puts the heavier acting burden on Peck but also lets him develop the character more fully. More than anything else, the film version of the story becomes a paean to the upright patriarch and champion of decency, which might help to explain why a movie about racism, rape, an egregious miscarriage of justice, an attempted lynching, and attempted murder leaves most viewers feeling uplifted instead of depressed. Atticus does not even enjoy the success of Henry Fonda's juror in 12 Angry Men (1957), but he inspires both his children and the audience to feel that the good fight is worthwhile, even when one is bound to lose it. Peck embodies these qualities perfectly, and it's fascinating to compare his idealized Atticus with the more complicated Southern lawyer family man he plays in the same year's Cape Fear. The movie also creates more conflict between Atticus and Bob Ewell (James Anderson), the man who accuses Tom Robinson of raping his daughter, partly to play up the contrast between these two fathers. Every ounce of integrity in Atticus has its equal opposite measure in Ewell's despicable, hateful character, and James Anderson, who worked mostly in television and Westerns, gives the single most memorable performance of his career.

Despite playing second fiddle to Peck, the children in the film are excellent representations of the novel's trio of youngsters, with Mary Badham especially winning as the tomboyish Scout. Her performance earned her a nomination for Best Supporting Actress, a category that highlights Scout's diminished importance in the film. Both Badham and Phillip Alford were Alabama natives making their first screen appearances; their Southern accents are natural, not coached, which helps the picture tremendously, and they behave like real, rough and tumble children rather than Hollywood imitations. John Megna, a New Yorker, was the professional of the group, but he catches the hyperbolic, eager nature of Dill, who makes up wild tales to impress his friends and cover for his lack of a father. The children's scenes with African-American characters advance the story's underlying message about racial equality and the changing attitudes of a new generation. We see them at home with Calpurnia (Estelle Evans), the only maternal figure Scout has ever known, and at the trial with the kindly Reverend Sykes (Bill Walker), with whom they sit in the balcony designated for the court's black spectators. Jem's brief scene with Tom Robinson's son, in which they wave tentatively at one another, eloquently expresses the way in which white and black children in the South were so close, and yet so far, from each other at every moment of their lives.

To Kill a Mockingbird won three Oscars and earned eight additional nominations, a very good performance in a year that included Lawrence of Arabia and The Miracle Worker as significant competitors. Robert Mulligan also directed Gregory Peck in The Stalking Moon (1968). For more of Peck, see Gentleman's Agreement (1947), Roman Holiday (1953), and Cape Fear (1962). Although neither Brock Peters nor Robert Duvall appears much in the film, each contributes to it powerfully; see Peters in Carmen Jones (1954), Porgy and Bess (1959), and then Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986) to see how his career evolved over time, and don't miss Robert Duvall's performances in The Godfather (1972), Apocalypse Now (1979), and Tender Mercies (1983).

Classic Films in Focus: THE BLACK CAT (1941)

Like many of the old dark house pictures of its era, The Black Cat (1941) relies upon an offbeat mixture of comedy and horror, zipping from gasps to giggles like a cheerily macabre carnival ride. For some horror purists, the goofier elements of these films repel, but it's easy to imagine a throng of matinee youngsters reveling in the quick turns and reversals that The Black Cat provides. You never know if a secret door will open to horrors or hilarity, and therein lies the appeal of the whole genre. Though it's not to be confused with the earlier and generally better regarded 1934 film of the same name, the 1941 outing does offer a delightful cast of character actors, including Basil Rathbone, Bela Lugosi, Gale Sondergaard, Broderick Crawford, and a young Alan Ladd.

Broderick Crawford stumbles through the proceedings as Gil, an eager opportunist looking to arrange the sale of the Winslow estate and earn the affection of lovely Elaine (Anne Gwynne), one of the prospective heirs. After Gil turns up with loopy furniture dealer Mr. Penny (Hugh Herbert), the residents of the house experience a series of shocks, starting with the suspicious death of estate owner Henrietta Winslow (Cecilia Loftus). As the heirs squabble over Henrietta's will, more strange events unfold, with secret passages and an ominous black cat helping a killer eliminate anyone who gets in the way.

The plot strongly resembles those of The Cat and the Canary (1927) and The Old Dark House (1932), although it has very little to do with the Edgar Allan Poe story from which it and the 1934 picture draw their titles. Its chills rely mostly on a mysterious killer who sneaks through the house using a maze of secret passages, but Gale Sondergaard is by far the scariest of the regular residents as the creepy housekeeper, Abigail. The camera angles highlight the weird angles of her face and her leering eyes to great effect, and she certainly knows how to milk the role for every bit of the audience's attention. Cecilia Loftus also benefits from creative camera work when she first appears onscreen; her eyes freakishly exaggerated by the thick spectacles she wears, she looks more like a creature from another world than a frail old lady with a harmless love for cats. Sadly, the film's most famous actors don't enjoy as much opportunity to demonstrate their talents. Basil Rathbone's Montague Hartley is a cad, but not an especially frightening one, and he doesn't really have enough to do, while Bela Lugosi's hairy groundskeeper is mostly deployed to rattle Gil and create confusion. Alan Ladd plays the sort of role one expects Elisha Cook, Jr. to fill, a minor part but fraught with anxiety and accusation. One year later he would appear in This Gun for Hire (1942) and become a true cinema star.

The comedy elements are hit or miss, with Broderick Crawford generally likable as Gil but Hugh Herbert laying it on much too thick with his trademark schtick. If you like his antics you'll love him here, but his character thwarts the action right up to the last moment, and he's too dense to understand the climactic life-or-death situation. Gil, however, manages to straddle the two genres, even though his efforts to unmask the killer repeatedly land him in ludicrous mishaps. It's an unusual role for Broderick Crawford, who would go on to win an Oscar for Best Actor in All the King's Men (1949). Here he gets to be comedian, amateur detective, and romantic lead all at once, sneezing helplessly at the omnipresent cats but persisting in uncovering the truth even when everyone else derides his claims. Crawford's Gil functions as the reliable, all-American everyman at the center of the unpredictable action; even if the assembled cast is awash in red herrings - which it certainly is - we know we can depend on Gil to be the good guy all the way through, and if he sometimes gets goofy that only serves to make him more familiar and reassuring. Lee Tracy serves a similar if more streetwise function in Doctor X (1932), and Bob Hope covers the same territory in The Cat and the Canary (1939) and The Ghost Breakers (1940).

Director Albert Rogell made over one hundred movies but never became well known; his other pictures include Li'l Abner (1940) and In Old Oklahoma (1943). For more of Broderick Crawford, see Larceny, Inc. (1942),  Black Angel (1946), and Born Yesterday (1950). Gale Sondergaard won Best Supporting Actress for Anthony Adverse (1936), but be sure to catch her in The Mark of Zorro (1940) and The Letter (1940), as well. If you go for Hugh Herbert's comedy style, can find him in A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935), Hollywood Hotel (1937), and There's One Born Every Minute (1942).

Classic Films in Focus: CALAMITY JANE (1953)

Calamity Jane (1953) transforms a Western legend into a frontier Cinderella story, complete with the requisite ball, but instead of a prince our heroine is out to land a handsome cavalry lieutenant. This Warner Brothers musical, directed by David Butler, can't be faulted for its lack of historical veracity, since the real Calamity Jane's story remains deeply buried in myths, half-truths, and self-aggrandizing lies, and its charm relies primarily on the spunky charisma of Doris Day as the rough but lovestruck protagonist. With Howard Keel as her costar, Day gives one of her signature performances, bringing the feisty heroine both liveliness and loveliness as the story unfolds.

As Calamity, Day whoops, fights, and sings her way around Deadwood, a wild frontier town where the men pine for Chicago stage star Adelaid Adams. Calamity goes to fetch the sexy chanteuse but accidentally brings back her maid, Katie Brown (Allyn McLerie), instead. After a rough start, Katie proves a hit, but Calamity is jealous when both her pal, Wild Bill Hickok (Howard Keel), and her crush, Lieutenant Danny Gilmartin (Philip Carey), try to court Katie.

Day is absolutely the star attraction here, and the buckskin costumes give her an opportunity to deliver an unusually physical performance as both a singer and a comedienne. As she rides, shoots, runs, and bounces through her scenes her energy is simply irresistible. Ironically, it's the slow, quintessentially feminine song, "Secret Love," that won the Oscar for Best Song, even though Day's more boisterous numbers, especially "The Deadwood Stage," are much more fun. Howard Keel is in his natural element as Day's leading man; the two sound very good together in their musical segments and have a feisty chemistry that telegraphs the inevitable ending. Allyn McLerie also makes an excellent partner and foil for Day, and the budding friendship between Katie and Calamity adds another layer to the story that Cinderella fantasies usually lack. Philip Carey has the least rewarding role of the four major players, since his Danny is no prince, and our final judgment of each character stems from his or ability to appreciate Calamity, which Danny never proves himself able to do.

The theme, the setting, and the presence of Keel recall the 1950 musical Annie Get Your Gun, in which Betty Hutton plays another Western legend, the sharpshooter Annie Oakley. In both movies, the rugged, uncultured heroines adopt conventional femininity in order to get their men, but Calamity Jane avoids the worst sins of the earlier story by having Calamity retain the essential elements of her character. Calamity doesn't give up her old identity or her scrappy frontier spirit. She adds dresses to her wardrobe but keeps pants, too, and her ability to inhabit both modes is particularly emphasized when she sings the sweetly romantic "Secret Love" while dressed in a buckskin pants outfit. The ending also promises a much more egalitarian marriage than that achieved in the Hutton film, in which Annie loses a shooting match on purpose because her man can't stand to be beaten by a woman. In both pictures, Howard Keel plays the leading man, but his Wild Bill has a far less fragile ego than his Frank Butler. While it takes a pretty dress to make Bill aware of it, his affection for Calamity has been there the whole time, and the picture's final moment makes it clear that Calamity has developed a characteristically possessive view of their new relationship.

Be sure to appreciate the very funny Dick Wesson as Francis Fryer; his drag number is a hoot. For more of Doris Day, see Romance on the High Seas (1948), Love Me or Leave Me (1955), and Pillow Talk (1959). Howard Keel also stars in Show Boat (1951), Kiss Me Kate (1953), and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954). Look for Allyn McLerie in The Way We Were (1973), and catch Philip Carey in Westerns like Cattle Town (1952) and Springfield Rifle (1952). Other films directed by David Butler include Shirley Temple vehicles like Bright Eyes (1934) and Captain January (1936) as well as the Crosby and Hope road picture, Road to Morocco (1942).

Classic Films in Focus: COVER GIRL (1944)

Rita Hayworth gets top billing in director Charles Vidor’s musical romance, Cover Girl (1944), but most modern viewers will be drawn to the picture as an early Gene Kelly vehicle, and it’s true that the movie would be a lot less memorable without him. Although it’s not the most iconic picture made by either performer, Cover Girl offers a worthwhile look at Hayworth’s star power and Kelly’s rise to fame during the 1940s. Moreover, it's a fun musical outing that pairs two talented dancers with tremendous screen presence, and fans of Hayworth's earlier work with Fred Astaire will appreciate an opportunity to contrast her pairing with Kelly.

Hayworth plays Rusty Parker, a dancer who goes against the wishes of her sweetheart and boss, Danny McGuire (Kelly), by trying out for a magazine’s cover girl contest. She wins the competition and attracts the notice of the magazine’s publisher, John Coudair (Otto Kruger), who long ago fell in love with Rusty’s grandmother, Maribelle (also played by Hayworth). Coudair encourages Rusty to abandon Danny’s small-time Brooklyn show for the glamour of Broadway, especially when a wealthy show producer wants to make her his leading lady on stage and at the altar.

Although her singing is dubbed, Hayworth proves herself as a dancer in the numerous musical scenes. Her signature red tresses are also on full display, and she does look stunning, particularly in the turn-of-the-century costumes worn by Maribelle. By the time Cover Girl was made, Hayworth already had years of screen experience and had become an established leading lady; just before Cover Girl she had co-starred with Fred Astaire in You’ll Never Get Rich (1941) and You Were Never Lovelier (1942). Kelly, in contrast, was only two years into his Hollywood career, having started out on Broadway and then gotten his big break in For Me and My Gal (1942) opposite Judy Garland. Still, the highlights of the picture belong to Kelly, especially the delightfully surreal mirror dance sequence, in which Kelly dances with his own reflection after it escapes from a shop window. Choreographed by Kelly and Stanley Donen, the number would launch the collaborative screen efforts of the pair and lay the foundation for future efforts like On the Town (1949) and the glorious Singin’ in the Rain (1952).

Hayworth and Kelly make the movie worth watching, especially for the Hollywood musical devotee, but the dual plot involving Rusty’s grandmother is pretty thin, really just an excuse to give Hayworth more screen time in various costumes and hairstyles. Phil Silvers, who is much funnier with Kelly and Judy Garland in Summer Stock (1950), adds little to the story and distracts from the romance with his ill-timed gags, while the wonderful Eve Arden deserves more attention and development as Coudair’s wise-cracking, hard-working assistant, “Stonewall” Jackson. Modern viewers probably won’t appreciate the parade of real-life cover girls as much as the original audience, but they will find a lot to enjoy in Leslie Brooks’ performance as the bitchy, ambitious dancer Maurine, who constantly tries to upstage and sabotage Rusty’s career.

Cover Girl was nominated for five Oscars and won for Best Musical Score. Charles Vidor would go on to direct Hayworth in her signature role in Gilda (1946). For more of Rita Hayworth, see Blood and Sand (1941), The Lady from Shanghai (1947), and Pal Joey (1957). You’ll find Gene Kelly in The Three Musketeers (1948), An American in Paris (1951), and Brigadoon (1954). Catch Eve Arden in Mildred Pierce (1945) and Anatomy of a Murder (1959), and give Phil Silvers another look in It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963) and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966).

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

Classic Films in Focus: PEOPLE WILL TALK (1951)

Cary Grant is best remembered today for a long list of great films, including comedies like Bringing Up Baby (1938) and The Philadelphia Story (1940) and Hitchcock thrillers like Notorious (1946) and North By Northwest (1959). Although not as well-known as those undisputed hits, People Will Talk (1951) is a warm and very funny romantic comedy about the human side of the medical profession. Written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, the movie stars Grant as a sympathetic doctor who insists on the individual humanity of each of his patients, even though his concern for them often goes far beyond the limits of his professional obligation.

Grant plays Noah Praetorius, a successful physician with a habit of collecting people who need him, from the mysterious Mr. Shunderson (Finlay Currie) to the desperate Deborah Higgins (Jeanne Crain). His popularity and success make him the target of a jealous colleague (Hume Cronyn), who hopes to discredit Praetorius by dredging up the secrets of his previous work, his unconventional methods, and his unusual associates.

The romantic angle depends on Praetorius’ evolving relationship with Deborah, a single young woman who attempts to kill herself when Praetorius tells her that she’s pregnant. The doctor saves her life and lies to her in order to prevent a second attempt, but somewhere along the way he falls in love with her, too. Grant balances the serious and comic aspects of this situation perfectly, and Jeanne Crain gives the troubled heroine a powerful appeal. The idea of a romance building around an unmarried woman’s pregnancy seems surprising, even shocking, for the time, but the movie handles it with delicate sympathy, with the details about Deborah’s dead lover calculated to make a contemporary audience forgive her transgression and deem her worthy of the hero’s unconditional acceptance.

Several especially engaging character actors provide ample support for the romantic leads and help to steer the movie back into comedic territory. Finlay Currie proves a real scene-stealer as the simple-minded Shunderson, whose history turns out to be both pitiful and bizarre. Hume Cronyn is delightfully petty and vindictive as Grant’s chief antagonist, Professor Elwell, and Margaret Hamilton has a great uncredited appearance at the start of the film as a former housekeeper who knows something about the good doctor’s past. Walter Slezak and Sidney Blackmer round out the cast as some of the doctor’s loyal friends, and there’s a wonderful scene in which the three men act like children in their enthusiasm over a toy train set.

Try Holiday (1938), Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), and The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947) for more Cary Grant comedies. You’ll find Jeanne Crain in Leave Her to Heaven (1945), A Letter to Three Wives (1949), and Pinky (1949). A four-time Oscar winner, Joseph L. Mankiewicz also directed memorable women’s pictures like Dragonwyck (1946), The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), and All About Eve (1950). Look for the wonderful Scottish actor Finlay Currie in I Know Where I’m Going! (1945), Great Expectations (1946), and Ben-Hur (1959). Finally, catch Hume Cronyn in Lifeboat (1944), The Seventh Cross (1944), and The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946).

An earlier version of this post originally appeared on Examiner.com.

Classic Films in Focus: IN OLD CHICAGO (1937)

Mrs. O'Leary and her troublesome cow make their obligatory appearance in this 20th Century Fox tale of urban disaster, which lets the viewer know up front that In Old Chicago (1937) is more a fable than a history lesson. Like the earlier San Francisco (1936), this picture sets a very personal story against the backdrop of a critical moment in American history, and it also sports an impressive round of special effects to demonstrate the scope of its climactic conflagration. Until the fire breaks out, however, there are plenty of fireworks between the stars to keep the audience watching, with Tyrone Power and Don Ameche as sparring siblings and Alice Faye as the love interest who may or may not be enough to make Power's opportunistic heel go in for reform.

Power plays Dion O'Leary, the son of Irish immigrants and a shrewd if unethical businessman. His brother, Jack (Ameche), is a straight arrow type who becomes a lawyer and eventually a politician, thanks largely to his scheming brother's secret efforts. In the sprawling, dangerous city of Chicago, the two represent starkly different visions of the city's future, although they unite in their love for their hard-working mother (Alice Brady) and affable baby brother (Tom Brown). Each is eager for the downfall of crooked Gil Warren (Brian Donlevy), who runs the city as his personal domain. Dion also nurses a passion for his business partner and star singer, Belle Fawcett (Alice Faye), but his unscrupulous methods constantly undermine their chance for romantic happiness.

Power, Ameche, and Faye were among Fox's most reliable stars, and the studio cast them in a variety of pictures in different combinations, but In Old Chicago offers an excellent opportunity to study the differences in the two leading men. Both charismatic, dark-haired, and talented, the two actors work in opposite directions as the clashing brothers. Power shows the darker side of his relentless energy, while Ameche's debonair persona inclines toward gentility. Faye, always compelling with either leading man, does her musical numbers with her usual charm but becomes most interesting when thrown into company with the disapproving Mrs. O'Leary, especially after the fire erupts and plunges the city into chaos. In a cast of first-rate players, Alice Brady stands out in the role of the Irish matriarch; she won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her performance, which combines all of the classic images of maternal strength and suffering, along with some adorable beer swilling and a fanatical devotion to her dead husband's portrait.

Two years before the burning of Atlanta in Gone with the Wind (1939), In Old Chicago offers a spectacular display of flaming ruin, which serves as the film's climax and thrusts our protagonists into life or death peril. Fox lavished money on the fire sequence, which includes enormous sets blazing and expansive views of people fleeing the disaster and then suffering through the smoke and misery of the aftermath. The Academy Awards didn't yet have a category for Special Effects; otherwise, In Old Chicago would certainly have been a strong contender. Still, as impressive as the effects are, they wouldn't have the same impact without our attachment to the terrified members of the O'Leary family, who find themselves separated and struggling to survive through the very worst moments of the fire.

Be sure to appreciate character actor Andy Devine in a supporting role as Dion's pal, Pickle. In Old Chicago earned six Oscar nominations and won two, including Brady's award for Best Supporting Actress. Director Henry King reunites with Power, Ameche, and Faye for Alexander's Ragtime Band (1938), and his other pictures include the Power vehicles Jesse James (1939), The Black Swan (1942), and Captain from Castile (1947). Power and Faye also star together in Rose of Washington Square (1939), with Power once again playing the heel. Ameche stars with Faye in Hollywood Cavalcade (1939), Lillian Russell (1940), and the delightful comedy, That Night in Rio (1941). Alice Brady, sadly, was near the end of her career in 1937; she died in 1939 at the age of 46. See more of her in The Gay Divorcee (1934), My Man Godfrey (1936), and her final picture, Young Mr. Lincoln (1939).