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 if 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.