The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934)

The Barretts of Wimpole Street (Dir: Sidney Franklin, 1934).

Adapted from the play by Rudolph Besier, The Barretts of Wimpole Street is a lavishly mounted dramatisation of the real life romance between poets Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. 

Initially conducting their courtship through correspondence; Elizabeth’s joyless existence under the watchful eye of her repugnant, overbearing father is transformed by the arrival of aspiring poet Robert Browning. Much to the consternation of Dad who plots to part the lovers for his own selfish want. 

Three bonafide acting legends head the cast of The Barretts of Wimpole Street; each basking in the glory of a recent Oscar win. Top-billed is Norma Shearer as love-lorn Elizabeth, giving a surprisingly animated performance in spite of spending much of the movie’s runtime in a reclining position. Fredric March, meanwhile, seems slightly uncomfortable in the role of beau Robert Browning but is to be applauded for a non-showy performance in which he never tries to outshine Ms Shearer. Ultimately, the movie belongs to the marvellous Mr Charles Laughton as the overbearing patriarch; only slightly less despotic and as equally hissable as his turn as Captain Blyhe in the following year’s Mutiny on the Bounty (Frank Lloyd, 1935).

Rounding out a superior supporting cast are Tarzan’s regular mate Maureen O'Sullivan as Liz’s younger sibling Henrietta, an excellent Una O’Connor as the spirited lady’s maid Wilson and Leo G Carroll, always a delight however small the role may be, as here with his brief turn as family medic Dr Ford-Waterlow. Also worth mentioning is the Barretts’ charming pet pooch Flush; an adorable spaniel who gets a surprising amount of screen time and who I would reach in through the screen and stroke if I could. 

With the action largely confined to Elizabeth’s boudoir, coupled with the fact that it is a movie of dialogue rather than deeds, the theatrical origins of the movie are all too obvious. However, thanks to Sidney Franklin’s slick direction and a smart and occasionally witty screenplay from Ernest Vajda, Claudine West and Donald Ogden Stewart, it is none the duller for this. Compensating for the movie’s inherent staginess is it’s impressive production; the beautiful interiors and gorgeous gowns are evidence of why this kind of lavish literary adaptation was bread and butter at MGM, the studio considered the most prestigious of all in Hollywood’s Golden Age. 

The Barretts of Wimpole Street is, perhaps, not the best introduction to 1930s cinema as it doesn’t particularly represent the best of the era. Regardless of this, what initially gives the impression of being a stuffy movie about people in stiff clothing is a remarkably still pretty fresh romantic drama 90 years after its original release. As an entertaining escape into the past for a couple of hours and for fans of the stars, Laughton especially, it is an easy recommend. 

Web of Evidence aka Beyond This Place (1959)

Web of Evidence aka Beyond This Place (Dir: Jack Cardiff, 1959). 

This 1959 British crime drama was distributed in the UK by Renown Pictures Corporation as Beyond This Place and based upon the A J Cronin’s 1950 novel of that name. In the US the movie was released by Paramount Pictures under the slightly snappier title Web of Evidence. 

20 years after the Second World War, evacuee Paul Mathry (Van Johnson) returns from the US to his former Liverpool home town. Seeking information about his father (Bernard Lee), Paul is surprised to learn Dad has spent the last two decades in prison, rather than killed in air raid as he had previously believed. Convicted of a murder around which doubt exists of his guilt, Paul enlists the help of librarian Lena (Vera Miles) to clear pop’s name and secure his release. He soon finds his own life at risk as he attempts to untangle a seedy mess of flawed femmes, corrupt coppers and bent businessmen. 

The basic premise of Web of Evidence is undoubtedly an interesting one. However, the pace at which the story unfolds is too slow to create any real intrigue. The obvious plotting and somewhat flat dialogue courtesy of screenwriter Ken Taylor doesn’t really help matters. Neither does some injudicious casting; aside from bearing little resemblance to Bernard Lee, Van Johnson is far too old to properly convince in the role of a former WWII evacuee. Aged 43 when the movie was released he is a good 15 years older than the character he portrays and looks it. This was, presumably, even more apparent to contemporary audiences, as all but those with the shortest of memories would be aware that Johnson had been an established star in his mid 20s by the early 1940s, just a couple of years after the events of the Liverpool Blitz depicted here. This robs the film of any real plausibility from the outset. There is little evidence of chemistry to be found in the chaste romance between Johnson and female lead Vera Miles, although in fairness to both players, this is largely thanks to a plot mechanism which has Miles fearful of men. The rest of the cast fairs better. Although underused, Lee does well as the embittered ex-con, while fans of vintage British cinema will welcome the familiar faces of Jean Kent, Leo McKern, Geoffrey Keen, Vincent Winter and Danny Green in smaller roles. 

Also, amusingly, this a film set entirely in Liverpool with nary a Liverpudlian accent to be heard! I guess in the pre-Beatles era most of the audience would have been unaware of this but it is rather jarring today. Yet, in spite of these criticisms, I did find the movie to be quite entertaining. Director Jack Cardiff creates a nice moody atmosphere among the Liverpool backstreets on which it was shot. It also benefits from its personable players, as miscast as some of them may be. At roughly 85 minutes it is short enough to not outstay its welcome. 

Ultimately, the problems with cast and plot are a little too much for Web of Evidence to overcome. I couldn’t honestly say that I wholeheartedly recommend it, but for fans of the stars and of British cinema history it is worth a watch if you stumble across it. 

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman (2003)

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman (Dir: Curt Geda, 2003). 

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman is a feature length animated movie based on the long running comic book character created by the legendary Bob Kane. 

Mystery of the Batwoman is a tricky movie to synopsise without revealing too much plot and thereby giving away the mystery at its core. Suffice to say a new crime fighter is in Gotham City; the Batwoman has co-opted the caped crusader’s look and high tech style of battling the bad guys, piquing the interest of the Batman aka Bruce Wayne who is less than happy sharing the skies with this ambiguous anti-hero. Bruce makes it his mission to unmask the new bat on the block as do fan favourite felons the Penguin, Bane and mob man Carlton Duquesne whose weapons smuggling operation is the focus of Batwoman’s vigilante vengeance. 

Since the turn of the 21st Century Warner Bros. Animation has, seemingly, been churning out made for the home market adaptations of DC Comics titles to create the DCAU (DC Animated Universe) to run concurrent but separately from the bigger budgeted live action DCEU (DC Extended Universe) series of cinematic movies. When Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman hit video and DVD shelves in 2003 the idea of feature length superhero movies was still a relatively fresh idea, with …Batwoman only the third title in the burgeoning series. 

For DC and Warner Bros. it is easy to see the thinking behind these movies. The glory days of critically acclaimed blockbusters Batman (Tim Burton, 1989) and Batman Returns (Tim Burton, 1992) were now a decade ago and the franchise reviving Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005) was still a couple of years away. Batman as a viable live action cinematic endeavour was effectively killed by the lacklustre performance of Batman & Robin (Joel Schumacher, 1997); an overtly camp and kitschy affair that failed to capture the imagination of critics and audiences alike. Warner did, however, have an ace up it’s sleeve in the form of the superior Saturday morning cartoon Batman: The Animated Series (1992-95) and its successor The New Batman Adventures (1997-99). These, along with the equally well received Superman: The Animated Series (1996-2000) convinced Warner execs that feature length animations were the most viable direction to take the ailing franchise. 

A theatrical release had already been granted to Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (Eric Radomski & Bruce Timm, 1993) a spin-off from Batman: The Animated Series which, despite a disappointing box office, received excellent reviews and quickly garnered a devoted cult following. Encourage by the positive reception a straight to video sequel followed in the form of Batman & Mr Freeze: Subzero (Boyd Kirkland, 1998). Sales of ...Subzero were healthy enough to see production of a further feature Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker (Curt Geda, 2000), which effectively saw the beginning of the series in earnest. 

While the Saturday morning cartoons had seen the series adopt a moodier atmosphere more sympathetic to the contemporary comic books, especially in comparison to Schumacher’s cinematic caped crusader, they had still retained a family friendly aesthetic. This was also true of the early animated features, although the series would soon largely abandon the kid friendly approach with increasing graphic violence, sexually suggestive scenes and some unfortunate misogyny. Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman somewhat represents a transitional period for the franchise; more adult in tone, but nothing particularly troubling for older children or young teens. 

I will be honest with you, I’ve never really been a reader of superhero comics so I am no expert on the DC characters and the universe they inhabit. I have, however, seen a few of the DC movies, animated and live action. As a layman my opinion my opinion may count for little, but I gotta say, I enjoyed Mystery of the Batwoman and consider it one of the stronger DCAU entries. From a technical standpoint, the 2D animation is clean and surprisingly fluid for a non-theatrical production. It is also far more appealing than later 3D animated films in the series, some of which look positively ugly to this animation fan. The voice work is stellar; Kevin Conroy is, perhaps, the actor who has best embodied the Dark Knight, while the legendary David Ogden Stiers as the Penguin proves equally adept at playing comic book villains as he is mechanical timepieces. 

Plot wise, writers Alan Burnett and Michael Reeves have crafted a story that gets a little convoluted but essentially remains compelling throughout the movie’s short 75 minute run time. The mystery at its heart is kinda predictable but its denouncement still provided a twist I hadn’t foreseen. ...Batwoman is decidedly lighter in tone than much of the DC cannon, with a little love action for Bruce thrown in amongst the beating up bad guys. I’m sure many would blanch at this but I honestly feel it adds a little more depth and dimensionality to seemingly perpetual bachelor Bruce.

Like I said, I am no Dark Knight devotee but, for what it’s worth, I enjoyed Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman. Granted, those deep into DC lore won’t necessarily agree with my opinion and why should they? For casual fans, however, while I wouldn’t necessarily recommend you seek it out with any great purpose; if you happen across it, it is certainly well worth a look! 

Dr Syn (1937)

Dr Syn (Dir: Roy William Neill, 1937).

From The Gaumont British Picture Corporation comes Dr Syn, a period adventure based upon Russell Thorndike’s popular series of novels published between 1915 to 1944; directed by Irish-American Roy William Neill, a stalwart of the British film industry best known for helming the bulk of the Basil Rathbone starring Sherlock Holmes movies. 

George Arliss stars as the titular Dr Syn, a seemingly mild mannered country clergyman who is, in fact, notorious former cutthroat pirate Captain Clegg. Vicar by day and The Scarecrow by night; the Robin Hood-like leader of a crew of gin smugglers whose contraband coffers provide a much needed tax levy for his Dymchurch partitioners, much to the consternation of the Royal Navy Tax Revenue. 

Set against the backdrop of Dymchurch, Kent and the surrounding Romney Marsh area, Dr Syn is a moodily atmospheric monochromatic treat! Arliss hams it up nicely as the ambiguous anti-hero and is ably supported by a fine cast of Brit thesps, most notably the wonderful Margaret Lockwood, on the verge of stardom and a year from her breakthrough roles in Bank Holiday (Carol Reed, 1938) and The Lady Vanishes (Alfred Hitchcock, 1938). As Syn’s ward Imogene Clegg, Lockwood adds some much needed femininity to the otherwise male dominated action. Some Billy Bunter-esq comic relief is provided by Graham Moffatt as the smuggler’s schoolboy ally Jerry Jerk, although please be wary of some comic corporal punishment hi-jinks that are somewhat hard to watch in 2023. 

The Dr Syn tales were revisited twice in the 1960s with, coincidentally two Syn movies in production simultaneously. Hitting the big screen first was Britain’s Hammer Films’ Captain Clegg aka Night Creatures (Peter Graham Scott, 1962) followed by Walt Disney Productions’ Dr Syn alias the Scarecrow, broadcast on US television as The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh (James Neilson, 1963). Both versions improve on the original, with the Disney feature arguably the most satisfying. The stories also served as the (unofficial) inspiration for Brit com Carry on Dick (Gerald Thomas, 1974) which finds famed Highwayman Dick Turpin similarly masquerading as a country cleric. 

Lighter on thrills than later adaptations, Dr Syn may seem a little antiquated to modern audiences. In spite of which, it is an easy, entertaining 80 minutes and fans of the better known Walt Disney production especially are encouraged to check out this original feature. File under Old Fashioned Fun. 

With only occasional television airings - in the UK at least, on Talking Pictures TV - Dr Syn is not the easiest of movies to view in a decent quality print. A YouTube upload of murky picture quality and perhaps dubious legality is available; watchable only if no better print is a hand. 

Come to the Stable (1949)

Come to the Stable (Dir: Henry Koster, 1949).

It’s a case of ‘And Then There Were Nuns’ as a superfluity of sisters descend upon the small town of Bethlehem, New England in this lightly comic drama from 20th Century Fox. 

Hailing from France, the nuns, lead by Sister Margaret (Loretta Young) and Sister Scholastica  (Celeste Holm) arrive in the USA intent on building a children’s hospital. But without the land or the cash it proves an uphill battle. Through dogged determination, luck and perhaps a little divine intervention, they slowly begin to realise their dream… 

An appealing cast heads Come to the Stable with Young and Holm registering strong performances in the leads. Stand outs in support are the wonderful Elsa Lanchester as the kooky artist who provides shelter for the sisters and Dooley Wilson, always a treat, here as a sort of porter cum oddjobs man.  

Faith movies were something of a specialty of director Henry Koster, with The Bishop's Wife (H. Koster, 1947), The Robe (H. Koster, 1953), The Story of Ruth (H. Koster, 1960) and The Singing Nun (H. Koster, 1966) among his more notable features films. While Come to the Stable doesn't hit the heavenly highs of Christmas classic The Bishop's Wife, it is more entertaining than the reverential, yet slightly dull spectacle of The Robe. Happily, the schmaltz is largely kept at bay in what is a potentially stickily sweet subject. That is until the climax, when a detractor to the sisters’ plan is struck with a sudden attack of piety! 

Astonishingly, Come to the Stable was nominated for 7 Academy Awards. Whilst it didn’t find itself on the winner’s podium, it is still a remarkable achievement. There is a good deal of whimsy to wallow through but, if I’m honest with you, it was a far more entertaining movie than I expected. A highly contrived confection for which a strong constitution is needed for the finale. Still, if nuns are your thing you will love it! 

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (Dir: David Hand, 1937).

As the current Disney regime continues to remake and rehash past glories, it is easy to forget that the studio was built on originality and innovation. This fully animated, fantasy musical was the first of it’s kind and was, on release, the most ambitious movie yet produced in Hollywood.

With its roots in the Brothers Grimm's Germanic folktale; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs tells the well known story of the young princess (voiced with charming naivety by young soprano Adriana Caselotti) whose beauty so enrages her wicked stepmother she sentences her to death by huntsman. Unable to do the deed the huntsman substitutes the heart of a pig for that of Snow White's. But the Queen soon learns of Miss White's existence in the protection of seven little men in a forest dwelling. Angered, she transforms herself into an old hag and hotfoots it to the Dwarfs' dwelling with a poisoned apple. SPOILER ALERT: one bite of the forbidden fruit sends Snow White into a 'sleeping death'. Fashioning a glass coffin, the diminutive dudes lay Snow White to rest in a forest glade where she lay awaiting her prince to come, someday. 

Derogatorily nicknamed ‘Disney’s Folly’ by the press and expected to bomb so hard as to ruin its creator, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs did the exact opposite in spectacular fashion. Not only did it emerge as the biggest box office success of 1938, it would become one the most successful feature films of all time; not to mention one the most critically acclaimed. 85 years later it has lost none of its appeal, is loved by millions worldwide and has entered the public consciousness in a way few other movies have. If all this sounds somewhat sycophantic, I make no apologies; Snow While and the Seven Dwarfs really is that good. 

Contrary to his detractors, who speculated a 90 minute cartoon would hurt audiences eyes, Walt Disney and his team of animators instead crafted a motion picture of which each individual frame is a work of art. Expressionistic use of light and shadow displays the influence of European cinema evident in Walt's early work, whilst the animation carries a delicate grace that would be never really be replicated outside the early Disney features. 

In Snow White, The Prince and The Queen the Disney animators achieved a realism of the human form never before seen in a cartoon; an achievement even more amazing when one considers Mickey Mouse's rubber-hose limb debut in Steamboat Willie (Walt Disney & Ub Iwerks, 1928) was less than a decade earlier! It is pretty safe to suggest that no other artform ever advanced with the rapidity of animation in the 1930s.

Providing some much needed levity in the surprisingly macabre tale are the Dwarfs: Doc, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Bashful, Sneezy and Dopey. Bringing to life seven similar characters, each imbued with distinct personalities, was an impressive feat in it itself and expands upon Disney's similar achievement in the short subject Three Little Pigs (Burt Gillett, 1933).

Accompanying the animated antics is an equally groundbreaking musical score. Frank Churchill and Larry Morey's score was notably the first example of an integrated musical - one in which the songs help further the plot - a full decade and a half before Rodgers and Hammerstein pioneered the 'book musical' with their 1943 opus Oklahoma!  Songs, such as I'm Wishing, Whistle While You Work, Heigh-Ho and Someday My Prince Will Come would become instant standards and are still among the most recognisable tunes in the vast Disney music catalogue. 

The word masterpiece is overused, yet few words are better suited to describe Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It is a genuinely original and innovative piece of filmmaking, the like of which will probably never be seen again. In terms of entertainment and innovation, it would’ve been fair to assume that the Disney Studio would never manage to top Snow White..., yet arguably they did just that three years later with their next feature Pinocchio (Ben Sharpsteen & Hamilton Luske, 1940).

 

Big Red (1962)

 Big Red (Dir: Norman Tokar, 1962).

Rather than a movie about a popular brand of cinnamon flavour chewing gum, Big Red is a doggy drama in the classic Walt Disney tradition of live-action animal adventures. 

Based upon the novel by James Kjelgaard, Big Red relates the story of crusty hunter and dog trainer James Haggis (Walter Pidgeon), who pays a hefty sum for Red, an Irish Setter with potential as a champion show dog. Out of the woods and into their lives wanders Rene (Gilles Payant), a French speaking orphaned lad who loves animals and needs a job. Employing Rene to care for his hounds, the boy soon bonds with Red; something which proves detrimental to the Setter’s training. Excitement with injured dog, runaway boys and menacing mountain lions follows, before the forgone happy conclusion. 

Produced by Disney’s True Life Adventures stalwart Winston Hibler and directed by studio regular Norman Tokar, Big Red is a sturdy, old fashioned yet handsomely mounted outdoors adventure; one of a trio of French Canadian dramas produced by Disney in the 1960s alongside Nikki, Wild Dog of the North (Don Haldane and Jack Couffer, 1961) and The Incredible Journey (Fletcher Markel, 1963). As with those movies, the animal actors here are arguably more engaging than their human co-stars. Emile Genest, as a live-in ranch hand, shares some tender scenes with youngster Payant, while Pidgeon puts in a solid performance as Haggis. However, the real star is the gorgeous Irish Setter of the title. 

The story itself offers few surprises, but is engagingly told and, save for a scene with a comic moose, is happily free from the kind of slapstick which sometimes marred Disney’s live action productions. With its gentle sentimentality and a somewhat languid pace, it may be a hard sell for modern family audiences and is notable by its omission from the Disney+ streaming service. However, Disney fans of a certain age will certainly get nostalgic pangs for the days when a charming, effects free dog and boy bonding tale passed muster as matinee entertainment. 

Following the critical and commercial success of Old Yeller (Robert Stevenson, 1957), boy and dog movies became a staple of the Disney Studios' output for the next two decades. While Big Red doesn’t do much to distinguish itself from the pack, its combination of beautiful scenery and cute canines, not to mention a couple of tuneful numbers from Mary Poppins composers Richard and Robert Sherman ensure a product of significant pedigree. While it is perhaps not best of breed, Big Red is a good dog tale nonetheless and will undoubtedly strike a chord with anybody who has ever loved a pet. 

High Flying Spy (1972)

High Flying Spy (Dir: Vincent McEveety, 1972).

Originally broadcast in three parts on NBC's weekly The Wonderful World of Disney TV series. High Flying Spy is a Civil War adventure based upon Robert Edmond Alter's historical novel High Spy.

Rival hot air balloonists Thaddeus Lowe (Stuart Whitman) and John Jay Forrest (Darren McGavin) are drawn into the Civil War as Union spies as part of President Lincoln's newly formed Areonautic Corps. Joining them is spirited Davey Stevens (Vincent Van Patten), a juvenile telegraph operator who has lied about his age in order to serve his county. Captured by the Confederate army the three must use their wiles to escape the enemy.

The practice of editing multiple TV episodes into a single feature film was a longstanding practice at the Disney Studios, beginning with the cultural phenomenon Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier (Norman Foster, 1955). Usually, the movies were distributed as support features in international markets. Not so with High Flying Spy which was stitched together for home video release at some point in the 1980s.

Directed by Disney stalwart Vincent McEveety, the movie is not exactly action packed, although is engaging enough in its storytelling not to outstay its 2 hours+ runtime. Younger viewers may squirm a little at the length and in three segments, as originally broadcast, may be preferable viewing for some. Although divided into three parts of roughly 45 minutes a piece, High Flying Spy never feels cobbled together, and if you watch with no prior knowledge of this you may not notice. Neither does the feature particularly belie its TV origins; it is a handsome outdoors adventure largely shot on Disney's Golden Oak movie ranch. Some obvious use of back projection is forgivable in the pre-ditgal age and doesn't otherwise detract from a quality production. 

A prestigious cast also helps lift the movie above standard TV fare. Both Stuart Whitman and Darren McGavin impress in their roles, McGavin, in particular, bringing an avuncular roguishness to his role as a bluff balloonist who ultimately proves himself heroic. Vincent Van Patten (son of Disney regular Dick Van Patten) contributes a pleasing, natural performance as the obligatory blonde haired youngster. 

Sadly, if you wish to watch High Flying Spy, it is one of many titles kept under lock and key in the Disney vault. The Disney+ streaming service would be an ideal platform to release the hundreds of hours of quality live action product from the 1950s through 1980s that the company seems loath to release. Us Disney geeks of a certain age would love the chance to revisit their childhoods just as much as 90s and 00s kids. Yet, almost three years after the platform launch, 70s and 80s Disney fans remain not especially well catered for in terms of older content. 

As such, High Flying Spy is a difficult to view in any format today. However, it is well worth watching if you can find a copy. Entertaining viewing, regardless of age, this is the kind of family friendly movie upon which the Walt Disney Studios were founded and which the current regime have seemingly abandoned. 

All Dogs Go to Heaven (1989)

All Dogs Go to Heaven (Dir: Don Bluth, 1989). 

The fourth feature film from former Disney animator Don Bluth. Animated in Ireland at the director's Sullivan Bluth Studios, with financial support from Goldcrest Films.

All Dogs Go to Heaven relates the life and death and life again story of Charlie B. Barkin, a likeable rogue of a German shepherd (voiced by Burt Reynolds) murdered by former partner and gambling kingpin Carface (Vic Tayback). Resisting the heavenly appeal of the afterlife, Charlie makes a break from the pearly gates to return to the living and seek vengeance on his killer. Earthbound, Charlie reunites with sausage dog pal Itchy whom he engages to wreak revenge. Held captive in Carface's basement is orphaned girl Anne-Marie who the pair rescue with the ulterior motive of using her animal communication skills (stay with me) to secure big wins at the racetrack. Promising to find her a family, Anne-Marie’s realisation that the shepherd has used her for his own ill gains impels her escape. Regretting his selfish deed, Charlie sets out to rescue the girl, signalling an all action climax and final confrontation with dirty dog Carface. 

While a visually appealing movie, All Dogs Go to Heaven does feel a little derivative of earlier features. Notably, with its mix of animals, orphans and a Louisiana bayou setting, Disney's The Rescuers (Wolfgang Reitherman, John Lounsbery and Art Stevens, 1977); a movie on which Bluth served as animator. The backstreets canine capers also recalls Disney's Oliver and Company (George Scribner, 1988), the movie which bested Bluth's The Land Before Time (D Bluth, 1988) at the box office a year earlier. The bad guy returning from heaven to find redemption plot is a chestnut older than Hollywood itself, although I am not aware of it appearing in an animated feature before. It also suffers from a convoluted, disjointed narrative. Indeed, when a giant singing alligator appeared I fear both I and the filmmakers had kind of lost the plot! Add to this some forgettable songs by Charles Strouse and T. J. Kuenster and it is not difficult to appreciate why All Dogs... underwhelmed at the box office. 

On the plus side is Bluth's distinctive design and some appealing character animation. The starry cast is attractive too. Aside from Reynolds are Loni Anderson as a down on her luck collie and Bluth regular Dom DeLuise as Charlie's flea infested comic cohort Itchy the dachshund. Special mention must also be given to Judith Barsi; the talented youngster's cute vocal performance as Anne-Marie would sadly be her last. 

While the movie eventually turned a profit in the home market, it initially had the misfortune of sharing its release date with Disney's The Little Mermaid (John Musker and Ron Clements, 1989). The blockbuster fairytale cemented Walt Disney Animation Studios' artistic and financial renaissance; in direct competition Bluth's movie was deemed a disappointment, although by no means a disaster.

With its themes of gambling, death and a fairly intense depiction of the underworld, some parents may consider All Dogs Go to Heaven a little unsuitable for younger viewers. More likely, most adults will probably find it a bit weird; something which kids are certain to be less bothered about! Ultimately this  shaggy dog story is a little dogeared but it does have a peculiar charm all of its own. Children, in particular, are sure to overlook its shortcomings and should find much to enjoy in an appealing mutt of a movie.

Platinum Blonde (1931)

 Platinum Blonde (Dir: Frank Capra, 1931).

Released by Columbia Pictures, Platinum Blonde is a pre-code, early screwball comedy from legendary director Frank Capra. 

When newspaper hack “Stew” Smith (Robert Williams) investigates the latest scandal involving the son of society Schuyler family he, instead, finds himself falling for their daughter Ann (Jean Harlow); outraging the family, who brand him a Cinderella man, with their subsequent romance and marriage. Finding the rich life harder to stomach than anticipated he frequently turns to ever patient gal pal Gallagher (Loretta Young) for support, unaware of the torch she is carrying for him. 

With situations and character tropes which would become Capra staples, Platinum Blonde is both pre-cursor to the director’s future whimsical comedies such as It Happened One Night (F Capra, 1934) and You Can’t Take it With You (F Capra, 1938) and something of a proto-screwball comedy; a genre Capra would practically invent with It Happened One Night. Regular collaborator Robert Riskin was responsible for the movie’s dialogue which, while not quite as rapid fire as the great comedies of the latter part of the decade, is still fast paced, charming and witty. 

Third billed, Harlow shines in the role of Long Island debutante Ann. Her charismatic and subtlety sensual performance giving a good indication of things to come from the then ascendant star. Williams is immensely likeable as the charmingly cynical newspaper man who bristles under the restraints of a society husband. However the real standout here is Loretta Young. Her role as the tough talking reporter, one of the boys but decidedly female in maters of romance, is one more readily associated with the likes of Jean Arthur or Katherine Hepburn. Yet Young proves the equal of her acting peers, displaying a deftness for comedy sadly underused by Hollywood. 

Both Harlow and Williams succumbed to ill health and died tragically young; Harlow in 1937 at age 26 and Williams at age 37 just three days after the Platinum Blonde premiere. While Harlow is rightly remembered as one of Hollywood’s brightest stars, Williams early passing robed him of the chance to build upon this, his only leading role. 

While perhaps not quite the equal of later Capra classics such as Mr Deeds Goes to Town (F Capra, 1936) or It's a Wonderful Life (F Capra,1946), even second tier Capra is better than most directors’ best work. Duly, Platinum Blonde is an excellently crafted comedy gem. 

With a master director and legendary stars near the peak of their powers, it stands as a prime example of classic Hollywood rom com at it formation. A smart, pacy comedy from the Golden Age that holds its own 9 decades after it originally graced the silver screen. 

Father is a Bachelor (1950)

Father is a Bachelor (Dir: Norman Foster & Abby Berlin, 1950).

William Holden stars in this lightweight family comedy from Columbia Pictures. 

 

Father is a Bachelor unfortunately and inauspiciously begins with Holden blacked up giving a rendition of  period ditty Wait 'til the Sun Shines, Nellie. Not the best. But let's remember that in 1950 this was an acceptable form of entertainment and was not intended to cause upset or controversy. Still, myself, and I would presume most modern viewers, could do without it. However I am no advocate for censoring old movies and if Columbia wished to slap a cautionary note at the top of the movie I would applaud them for it. On with the show...

Self-confessed loafer Johnny Rutledge (William Holden) becomes unwitting foster father to five river bottom orphaned waifs. Meanwhile he becomes romantically involved with judge's daughter Prudence Millett (Coleen Gray) who, with the kids, transforms him from medicine show shyster to attentive family man. 

Any movie that opens with an outdated and cringe-worthy blackface song and dance number can only improve as it goes on, right? Wrong! While the remaining 80 minutes of the feature are nowhere near as offensive as the first 5, its sickly sweet combination of saccharine sitcom and tow haired orphans may prove too much for the weak stomached.

William Holden is miscast and appears uninterested in a role too trivial for the rapidly rising star, and it is to Columbia Pictures' detriment that they continued to cast him in such undemanding fluff at this stage of his career. As Holden's love interest, little is required of Coleen Gray other than look pretty while gazing coyly upon him. This she does proficiently but the romance is so insipid you could mistake it for a casual acquaintance. The kids, with the cutesy names of Jan, Feb, March - you get the idea - are Hollywood kids of the most cloying kind. Of no help to the cast is the cornball dialogue and obvious plotting of Aleen Leslie and James Edward Grant’s flimsy screenplay. Precious little actually happens in the movie; what slight story there is a stretched out to an agonising 85 minutes which tested both my attention span and my sitting still skills. 

While not strictly speaking a musical, the movie does feature a brace of folksy musical intervals with perhaps the most unconvincing vocal dubbing of a Hollywood star. While a seemingly bored Holden is just about believable as the shiftless drifter who finds redemption, his silky baritone singing voice is about as far removed from the actor's distinctive speaking voice as is possible. 

Astonishingly it took not one but two directors to bring this tripe to the big screen. Norman Foster would later make a useful contribution to Walt Disney Productions' live-action division with frontier actioner Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier (N Foster, 1955) and multiply episodes of the Zorro (1957-1959) TV series. Abby Berlin, meanwhile, was nearing the end of a movie career consisting mostly of Blondie and Dagwood B-movie comedies but would continue as director for hire on numerous TV productions. Neither bring any discernible style to proceeding here. 

Father is a Bachelor marks a definite low point in Mr Holden's career; surprisingly released the same year and just prior to his triumphant turns in classics Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder, 1950) and Born Yesterday (George Cukor, 1950). While Holden was never less than watchable, this must rank as one of his worst pictures. If, like myself, you are an admirer of his work. then by all means give the movie a watch as he is really the only interesting thing about it. Otherwise you are well advised to give this barely palatable picture a wide berth.