Harry Behn Movies

No one was surprised in 1929 that aviation mogul Howard R. Hughes would produce a paean to World War I flying aces like Hell's Angels. Given Hughes' comparative inexperience as a moviemaker, however, everyone was taken slightly aback that the finished film was as good as it was. The very American Ben Lyon and James Hall play (respectively) Monte and Roy Rutledge, a couple of British brothers who drop out of Oxford to join the British Royal Flying Corps. Several early scenes establish Lyon and Hall's romantic rivalry over two-timing socialite Helen (Jean Harlow). While flying a dangerous bombing mission over Germany, the brothers are shot down. The commandant (Lucien Prival), who'd earlier been cuckolded by one of the brothers, savors his opportunity for revenge. He offers the boys their freedom if they'll reveal the time of the next British attack; if they don't cooperate, they face unspeakable consequences. Roy, driven mad by his combat experiences, is about to tell all when he is shot and killed by Monte. The latter is himself condemned to a firing squad by the disgruntled commandant -- who, it is implied, will soon meet his own doom at the hands of the British bombers. Nobody really cares about this hoary old plot, however; Hell's Angels culls most of its strength from its crackerjack aerial sequences. The highlight is a Zeppelin raid over London, one of the most hauntingly effective sequences ever put on film. From the first ghost-like appearance of the Zeppelin breaking through the clouds, to the self-sacrificing behavior of the German crew members as they jump to their deaths rather than provide "excess weight," this is a scene that lingers in the memory far longer than all that good-of-the-service nonsense in the finale. Also worth noting is the star-making appearance of Jean Harlow. When Hell's Angels was begun as a silent film, Norwegian actress Greta Nissen played the female lead. During the switchover to sound, producer Hughes decided that her accent was at odds with her characterization, so he reshot her scenes with his latest discovery, Harlow. While she appears awkward in some of her scenes, there's no clumsiness whatsoever in her delivery of the classic line about slipping into "something more comfortable." Originally, Marshall Neilan was signed to direct the film, but became so rattled by Howard Hughes' interference that he handed the reins to Hughes himself, who was in turn given an uncredited assist by Luther Reed. Also ignored in the film's credits are the dialogue contributions by future Frankenstein director James Whale, who'd been hired as the film's English-dialect coach. Modern audiences expecting a musty museum piece are generally surprised by Hell's Angels' high entertainment content: they are also startled by the pre-code frankness of the dialogue, with phrases like "The hell with you" bandied about with reckless abandon. In recent years, archivists have restored the film's two-color Technicolor sequence, providing us with our only color glimpses of the radiant Jean Harlow. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Canine star Rin Tin Tin makes his all-talking (or is it all-barking?) debut in Warner Bros.' Frozen River. In characteristic fashion, Rinty braves the elements to rescue heroine Nina Quartero from the villains, a gang of cutthroats and thieves. The doggie hero also comes to the aid of little Davey Lee, a saucer-eyed child star best remembered for his appearance opposite Al Jolson in The Singing Fool (1928). Reportedly, Rinty didn't immediately warm up to Lee and tried to take a nip out of the kid during one scene, but the four-legged star was quickly mollified by his trainer Lee Duncan. Its behind-the-scenes intrigue notwithstanding, Frozen River proved that Rin Tin Tin was capable of weathering the talkie revolution. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

As was the case with every film project that he cared deeply about, filmmaker King Vidor had to fight long and hard with his studio bosses to get The Crowd produced. Though Vidor's parent studio MGM was certain that this simple story of everyday people would take a bath at the box-office, the film earned back twice its cost. The story concentrates on John Sims, brilliantly played by James Murray, an extra boosted to stardom by Vidor. Born on the fourth of July in the year 1900, John convinced that he's destined to be a man of importance. 27 years later, however, Sims is merely one of the faceless crowd, an underpaid clerk in a huge New York office building. On a blind date, John meets Mary (Eleanor Boardman), a likeable if not overly attractive young lady (Boardman, the wife of director Vidor, balked at the notion of departing from her usual glamorous roles; Vidor prevailed, and as a result the actress delivered what is now considered her finest performance). John and Mary are eventually married, raising two children in their tiny New York tenement (complete with a balky toilet-the first time that this particular bathroom fixture ever appeared in an American film). As John's dreams of glory go unfulfilled, he becomes bitter and argumentative, while Mary grows old before her time. Just when John wins $500 in a slogan contest, tragedy strikes unexpectedly when the Sims' youngest child is killed in a traffic accident. Haunted by the memory of his child, John is unable to function properly at his job, and is soon fired. In despair, Sims contemplates suicide, only to be shaken back to reality by his son, who, oblivious to John's grief and disillusionment, declares proudly that he wants to be just like his daddy when he grows up. By chance, John gets a job as a street huckster for a local department store. Though both John and Mary know that this "triumph" is transitory, at least the family is together again, and at least they're reasonably happy. As the camera pulls back, back, back in a packed movie theatre, we leave John Sims just where we found him-one of The Crowd. At the behest of MGM, Vidor reluctantly filmed an idiotic alternate ending, wherein the Sims family, having inherited a fortune, are seen living in the lap of luxury. This finale was hooted off the screen wherever it was shown; thus, current prints of the film contain Vidor's original, ambivalent ending. A deceptively "small" film, The Crowd was assembled on as large a budget and with as much production polish as any "big" MGM picture. In 1934, Vidor produced a sequel with his own funds, Our Daily Bread. Alas, James Murray, the actor catapulted to the Big Time in The Crowd, was not a part of the project. A headstrong, irresponsible man, Murray had squandered the chance offered him by Vidor, and had descended into drunken dereliction. Unlike the hero in The Crowd, there was no one to pull James Murray back when, in 1936, he fell off a pier and drowned. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The Big Parade was designed as a modest programmer concerning one young man's disillusionment in the face of war. When the MGM executives took a look at the projection-room rushes, they gave director King Vidor the go-ahead to film an all-out "spectacular", which ended up running 13 reels and costing a then-astronomical $382,000. Shorn of his matinee-idol mustache, John Gilbert is perfect as an all-American-boy who signs up for World War I service, dreaming of adventure and glory. The first half of the film is taken up with the jocular byplay between Gilbert and his army buddies Tom O'Brien and Karl Dane. These scenes seem to take forever, especially to those awaiting the big battle sequences that the MGM advertising copy had promised. But Vidor's slow buildup had its purpose; by lulling the audience into complacency, the director was able to shock the viewers with the horrors of war as suddenly and effectively as the doughboys had been shocked back in 1918. Gilbert survives the war, but returns home minus one leg (the film's script was written by Laurence Stallings, himself a war vet and amputee). MGM head Louis Mayer was terrified that the scenes of a crippled Gilbert would offend his fans, so he ordered that "protection" footage be shot with Gilbert being merely wounded, but with both legs intact. So powerful were the climactic scenes between Gilbert and his parents, however, that not one preview audience ever demanded that the alternate ending be shown. The film's many highlights includes the cute scene in which Gilbert teaches French girl Renee Adoree how to chew gum; the famous shot of Adoree desperately clinging to Gilbert as he and his fellow soldiers march to the front; the chilling Belleau wood sequence, in which the soldiers, walking stealthily amidst the tall trees, are picked off one by one by snipers; and the heart-rending reunion sequence, in which Gilbert's mother (Claire McDowell) embraces her amputee son as she flashes back to the time that he took his first steps. The only concession to MGM formula was in having Gilbert depicted as a wealthy young man, living in a mansion the size of Rhode Island. Though its original impact has been blunted by years of imitations, The Big Parade remains an unforgettable movie experience. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide