Iphigenie Castiglioni Movies

British criminologist Dr. Avatar (Philip Coolidge) is a staunch advocate of phrenology, a once-popular (and long discredited) theory which states that a man's criminal tendencies can be determined by the bumps on his head. Hiring Paladin (Richard Boone) as his guide, Avatar is determined to prove his theory by studying the noggin of an elderly, reclusive gunfighter named Jake Trueblood (Roy Barcroft)--who is understandably disinclined to be anyone's guinea pig! This episode was originally scheduled to air on December 30, 1962. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Michael Curtiz's The Comancheros was a deceptively complex movie -- so enjoyable, that it masked some of the best character development seen in a John Wayne vehicle that was not directed by John Ford or Howard Hawks, and so well made that it got by with some of the most violent action seen in a major studio release of the era. It also bridged the gap between Ford's The Searchers and the upbeat buddy movies of the late '60s and '70s (The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, etc.). It's 1843 in the Republic of Texas, and Jake Cutter (John Wayne) is a two-fisted Texas Ranger who runs across a gang of white renegades, called the Comancheros, who are trading guns and other contraband with marauding Comanches from a secret hideout in Mexico. Substituting for a repentant gun-runner, he goes undercover as a partner with Crow (Lee Marvin), a vicious half-breed who is a contact man with the Comancheros and knows the whereabouts of their hideout in Mexico. But Crow manages to get himself killed, and Cutter is forced to throw in with Paul Regret (Stuart Whitman), a bystander who also happens to be an itinerant gambler wanted for killing a man in a duel in New Orleans, to complete his mission. It turns out that Regret is a more decent man than most, and he and Cutter, despite some different outlooks on right and wrong, take a liking to each other. Their quest eventually takes them south of the border, where they find the Comancheros and their leader, Graile (Nehemiah Persoff), a bitter, brilliant cripple -- think of The Sea Wolf's Wolf Larsen in a wheelchair -- who has established a landlocked pirate society, and his daughter Pilar (Ina Balin). The only thing that keeps Cutter and Regret alive when they enter the camp is that Pilar and Regret have a history, and she still has feelings for him, enough so that she won't tell what she knows about Cutter and who he is. The two men must play on Graile's greed and Pilar's love in the explosive surroundings of the Comancheros' camp, while figuring out a way to stay alive long enough to get word to the rangers about where they are -- and to survive the attack that must inevitably follow.

Director Michael Curtiz was ill for part of the shoot, and Wayne took up the slack, but The Comancheros displays some of the same freewheeling charm and deep passions that informed classic films of his such as Captain Blood, The Adventures of Robin Hood, and The Sea Hawk. Wayne and Whitman between them manage to evoke some of the rambunctiousness of Errol Flynn, and when Balin (one of the sexiest leading ladies ever to grace a John Wayne movie) arrives onscreen, the testosterone level shoots up even higher and the sexual sparks fly. The film's 105 minutes go by very fast, and this is a movie whose ending comes almost too soon. Curtiz's final film is one that leaves audiences with a smile, but also wanting more, which was a pretty good way to go out. John Wayne's daughter, Aissa Wayne (who subsequently went into a law career) appears in a small role. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

Wounded in the French-Algerian war, Sgt. Andre Doniere (Jacques Bergerac) heads back to France in the company of his friend Marcel (Marcel Dalio), who lost a leg saving Andre's life. Although Doniere's return is eagerly awaited by his adoring fiancée, Sybil (Lilyan Chauvin), he is consumed by guilt over the fact that, during his hospital stay, he has fallen in love with another woman named Therese (Susan Kohner). It falls to Marcel to "rescue" his comrade for a second time. This is one of the few Hitchcock episodes without a humorous epilogue -- and for good reason. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Wild Is the Wind represents a (perhaps deliberate) reversal of the situation in The Rose Tattoo (1955). Whereas in Tattoo, Anna Magnani played a widow who could never find a man to measure up to her late husband, in Wind her character, Giola, marries widowed rancher Gino (Anthony Quinn), who is haunted by the memory of his first spouse. The situation is dicier in Wind, since Italian immigrant Gino's deceased wife was Giola's sister. Eventually tiring of her husband's mood swings, Giola turns to his son, Bene (Anthony Franciosa), for emotional and sexual gratification. A Hollywood approximation of the Italian neorealist school of filmmaking, Wild Is the Wind was based on Furia, a story by Vittorio Nino Novarese. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

George Pal's now-quaint science fiction odyssey concerns a multi-national group on the first space flight to Mars. Pal pulls out all stops in the special effects department, creating "The Wheel" (a earth-orbiting circular space station), rocket launches into space, and a breathtaking near-collision with an asteroid. The film itself concerns the travails of the crew of the spaceship as they make their way to Mars. General Samuel T. Merritt (Walter Brooke) heads the team. Supporting him and along for the ride are his son, Captain Barney Merritt (Eric Fleming), Sergeant Mahony (Mickey Shaughnessy), Jackie Siegle (Phil Foster), and Imoto (Benson Fong). As the ship gets closer to their Martian quest, General Merritt cracks and tries to sabotage both the mission and the crew, babbling about the blasphemy of mankind trespassing upon God's domain. His son is forced to kill him and save the mission, whereupon the crew peacefully lands on the Martian surface and scouts out the terrain like a group of sightseers at Lourdes before returning to Earth. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

Cecil B. DeMille's The Greatest Show on Earth is a lavish tribute to circuses, featuring three intertwining plotlines concerning romance and rivalry beneath the big top. DeMille's film includes spectacular action sequences, including a show-stopping train wreck. The Greatest Show on Earth won Academy Awards for Best Picture and Best Story. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

The second of Paul Muni's biographical films for Warner Bros., the Oscar-winning The Life of Emile Zola is by far the best, even allowing for the dramatic license taken with the material. When first we meet French novelist and essayist Zola, he is starving in a Parisian garret with his painter friend, Paul Cezanne. Each time Zola attempts to write "the truth," he is stymied by governmental censors. Still, he is able to achieve both fame and fortune with the publication of "Nana," an unardorned and best-selling tale of a prostitute (whom we can safely assume was not quite as likeable or attractive as Erin O'Brien-Moore, who plays the novel's "role model"). The lion's share of the film is devoted to Zola's attempts to clear the reputation of Army captain Alfred Dreyfus (Joseph Schildkraut), who has been framed on a charge of treason by his superiors and condemned to Devil's Island. Publishing his famous manifesto "J'accuse," Zola leaves himself wide open for public condemnation and criminal prosecution. Though he delivers a brilliant self-defense in court, Zola is found guilty. Forced to flee to England, he continues railing against the unjust, corrupt military establishment, eventually forcing a retrial and exoneration of Dreyfus. Alas, Zola is killed in a freak accident at home before he can meet the liberated Dreyfus. At his funeral, Emile Zola is eulogized by Anatole France (Morris Carnovsky), who refers to the fallen crusader as "a moment of the conscience of man." For various reasons -- some dramatic, some legal -- the actual facts of "L'affaire Dreyfus" are altered by the Norman Reilly Raine/Heinz Herald/Geza Herczeg screenplay.

The fact that Dreyfus was railroaded because he was Jewish is obscured; in fact, except for a very brief visual reference, the word "Jew" is never mentioned. Only those villains whose names were a matter of public record (Major Dort, Major Esterhazy) are specifically identified. Others are referred to as the Chief of Staff, the Minister of War, etc. to avoid lawsuits from their descendants (remember that the events depicted in the film, most of which take place between 1894 and 1902, were still within living memory in 1937). As for Dreyfus himself, he was not freed and restored to rank in 1902, the year of Zola's death, but in 1906-after being found guilty again in an 1899 retrial (Dreyfus died in 1935, outliving everyone else involved in the case). These historical gaffes can be forgiven in the light of the film's overall message: that a single small, clear voice can fight City Hall. If for nothing else, The Life of Emile Zola deserves classic status due to Paul Muni's towering performance, most notably in the unforgettable summation scene: "By all that I have done for France, by my works -- by all that I have written, I swear to you that Dreyfus is innocent. May all that melt away -- may my name be forgotten, if Dreyfus is not innocent. He is innocent." ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

"Every time Paul Muni parts his beard and looks through a microscope, we lose a million dollars." Producer Jack Warner's lament concerning Muni's historical dramas is cute enough, but hardly backed up by facts; the economically produced The Story of Louis Pasteur proved to be a surprise hit for the Brothers Warner. The Sheridan Gibney-Pierre Collings screenplay concentrates on Pasteur's tireless efforts to find a cure for anthrax and hydrophobia. The famed French scientist is continually challenged and thwarted by his principal rival, hidebound bacteriologist Dr. Charbonnet (Fritz Leiber). The film's climax, involving a desperate Pasteur, the immovable Charbonnet, Pasteur's ailing daughter (Anita Louise), and a hydrophobia-infected youngster (Dickie Moore), is straight out of the Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight school of melodrama. Within the film's context, however, this contrivance works magnificently. Virtually thrown away by Warners upon its first release, The Story of Louis Pasteur was finally awarded class-A treatment when the picture proved to be favorite with audiences and critics alike; Paul Muni's Academy Award win was the mere icing on the cake. The film's success led to Warners' decision to go ahead with 1937's The Life of Emile Zola, also starring Muni. This time, the studio copped its first Best Picture Oscar. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi