Fred Zendar Movies

The Hawaiians is the sequel to 1969's Hawaii; both films were adapted from the same sprawling novel by James A. Michener. Charlton Heston is top-billed as a sailor who returns to his Hawaiian homestead, only to learn that his grandfather's fortune has been bestowed upon his hated cousin Alec McCowan. As a reprisal, Heston sets up his own pineapple plantation in competition with his cousin. Heston's son John Phillip Law falls in love with the daughter (Virginia Ann Lee) of a Chinese farmer (Mako). The issue of miscegenation rears its ugly head, but by the end of this very long film Heston's family is united by marriage to the Chinese clan. The British title of The Hawaiians was Master of the Islands. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

H.G. Wells's War of the Worlds had been on the Paramount Pictures docket since the silent era, when it was optioned as a potential Cecil B. DeMille production. When Paramount finally got around to a filming the Wells novel, the property was firmly in the hands of special-effects maestro George Pal. Like Orson Welles's infamous 1938 radio adaptation, the film eschews Wells's original Victorian England setting for a contemporary American locale, in this case Southern California. A meteorlike object crash-lands near the small town of Linda Rosa. Among the crowd of curious onlookers is Pacific Tech scientist Gene Barry, who strikes up a friendship with Ann Robinson, the niece of local minister Lewis Martin. Because the meteor is too hot to approach at present, Barry decides to wait a few days to investigate, leaving three townsmen to guard the strange, glowing object. Left alone, the three men decide to approach the meterorite, and are evaporated for their trouble. It turns out that this is no meteorite, but an invading spaceship from the planet Mars. The hideous-looking Martians utilize huge, mushroomlike flying ships, equipped with heat rays, to pursue the helpless earthlings. When the military is called in, the Martians demonstrate their ruthlessness by "zapping" Ann's minister uncle, who'd hoped to negotiate a peaceful resolution to the standoff. As Barry and Ann seek shelter, the Martians go on a destructive rampage. Nothing-not even an atom-bomb blast-can halt the Martian death machines. The film's climax occurs in a besieged Los Angeles, where Barry fights through a crowd of refugees and looters so that he may be reunited with Ann in Earth's last moments of existence. In the end, the Martians are defeated not by science or the military, but by bacteria germs-or, to quote H.G. Wells, "the humblest things that God in his wisdom has put upon the earth." Forty years' worth of progressively improving special effects have not dimmed the brilliance of George Pal's War of the Worlds. Even on television, Pal's Oscar-winning camera trickery is awesome to behold. So indelible an impression has this film made on modern-day sci-fi mavens that, when a 1988 TV version of War of the Worlds was put together, it was conceived as a direct sequel to the 1953 film, rather than a derivation of the Wells novel or the Welles radio production. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Submarine Command reunites the romantic leads from Sunset Boulevard, William Holden and Nancy Olsen. Holden is cast as Commander White, who during an enemy attack orders that his submarine dive to avoid destruction. Though his action saves his crew, it results in the death of the machine-gunner left topside during the attack. With the exception of vindictive chief torpedo-man Boyer (William Bendix), no one holds White to task for his decision -- save for White himself, who is plagued with guilt and doubt ever afterward. Helping to alleviate White's self-flagellation is his fiancee Carol (Olsen). The thrill-packed climax finds White's submarine engaged in a sabotage action against communist forces off the coast of Korea. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Damon Runyon's Broadway fable The Lemon Drop Kid was filmed twice by Paramount Pictures, but only the 1934 version with Lee Tracy paid more than lip service to the original Runyon story. The second version, filmed in 1951, was completely retooled to accommodate the talents of Bob Hope. Known far and wide as the Lemon Drop Kid because of his fondness for that particular round, yellow confection, Hope is a bookie who finds himself deeply in debt to Florida gangster Fred Clark. Magnanimously, Clark permits Hope to head to New York to raise the money--but he'd better have the dough ready by Christmas, or else. Ever on the lookout for Number One, Hope decides to exploit the Christmas spirit in order to get the money together. With the help of unsuspecting nightclub-singer Marilyn Maxwell, Hope sets up a charity fund to raise money for an "Old Doll's Home"--that is, a home for down-and-out little old ladies. He claims to be doing this on behalf of big-hearted Jane Darwell, but he has every intention of double-crossing Darwell and all the other elderly women by skipping town with the charity funds and leaving them at the mercy of the authorities. By the time Hope has seen the error of his ways and tries to do right by the old dolls, Maxwell's boss Lloyd Nolan has decided to muscle into the racket by using the ladies' home as a front for a gambling casino. To set things right, Hope finds it necessary to disguise himself as a fussy old spinster at one point. The best line in the film goes to William Frawley, playing one of many Broadway toughs who are being pressed into service as street-corner Santas. "Will you bring me a doll for Christmas?" asks a little girl. "Naw, my doll's workin' Christmas Eve" is Frawley's salty reply. The Lemon Drop Kid is the film in which Bob Hope and Marilyn Maxwell introduced the enduring Yuletide ballad "Silver Bells", written (reportedly in a real hurry) by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Frank Capra's only MGM film, State of the Union was adapted by Anthony Veiller and Myles Connolly from the Pulitzer Prize-winning play by Howard Lindsay and Russell Crouse. Spencer Tracy plays an aircraft tycoon who is coerced into seeking the Republican Presidential nomination by predatory newspaper mogul Angela Lansbury. Campaign manager Van Johnson suggests that, for appearance's sake, Tracy be reunited with his estranged wife Katharine Hepburn (replacing Claudette Colbert, who'd ankled the project after a pre-production donnybrook with director Capra). Realizing that Tracy and Lansbury are having an affair, Hepburn nonetheless agrees to grow through the devoted-wife charade because she believes that Tracy just might make a good President. Her faith is shattered when Tracy, corrupted by the Washington power brokers, publicly compromises his values in order to get votes. Only in the film's last moments does Tracy prove himself worthy of Hepburn's love and his own self-respect by admitting his dishonesty during a nationwide radio-TV broadcast. Much of the biting wit in the original Broadway production of State of the Union is sacrificed in favor of the director's patented "Capracorn," but the film is no less entertaining because of this. As usual, the supporting cast is impeccable, from featured players Adolphe Menjou (whose off-camera political arguments with Hepburn threatened to shut down production at times) and Margaret Hamilton, to bit actors like Carl "Alfalfa" Switzer and Tor (Plan 9 From Outer Space) Johnson. Because the television rights to State of the Union belonged to Capra's Liberty Films, the picture was released to TV by MCA rather than MGM's syndication division. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Road to Rio was the first of three "Road" pictures jointly produced by stars Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. On the run from the law again, musicians Bob and Bing stow away on an ocean liner. They try to come to the rescue of heiress Dorothy Lamour, who is doomed to an arranged marriage to caddish George Meeker. All gratitude and effusions for their assistance, Dorothy surprises Bob and Bing on their next meeting by slapping them in their faces and declaring "I hate you! I loathe you! I despise you!" The explanation? Dorothy is being hypnotized by her scheming aunt Gale Sondergaard, who has set up the marriage for mysterious mercenary reasons of her own. When Dorothy is "herself" again, Bob and Bing smuggle her off the ship and into their Rio de Janeiro hotel room. The boys plan to save Dorothy from her unwanted marriage by passing her off as a nightclub singer, and themselves as band leaders. Trouble is, they have no band. Enter the Wiere Brothers, three Rio street entertainers. Bob and Bing hire the threesome on the spot, unmindful that they have booked themselves into Nestor Paiva's nightclub on the promise that they're delivering an American band. Since the Wieres speak only Portuguese, Bing teaches each brother an American phrase by rote: "You're in the groove, Jackson", "You're Telling Me," and "This is Murder." Naturally, it isn't long before the boys' ruse is discovered, and this coupled with the newly hypnotized Lamour's threats to have Bob and Bing arrested, leaves our heroes broke and stranded once more. Still, they pose a menace to Sondergaard, thus she contrives a method of disposing of them. Hypnotizing them both, Sondergaard orders Bob and Bing to kill each other. They snap out of the spell just in time, but still there's the problem of rescuing Dorothy. And now there's a new angle: mysterious stranger Frank Puglia informs the boys that the only way to stop the wedding is to retrieve (pause; a furtive glance left; a furtive glance right) "The Papers." Said papers are in the possession of Sondergaard, obliging Bob and Bing to show up at the pre-nuptial festival in disguise (with Bob in drag). Managing to hypnotize Sondergaard's henchmen Frank Faylen and Joseph Vitale, Bob and Bing uncover the precious Papers, and Dorothy is saved. But how can those papers stop a wedding? We won't give away the surprise, nor will we tell you whether Dorothy ends up with Bob or Bing, nor even what the heck Jerry Colonna is doing in the picture leading a cavalry charge. Not the best of the "Road" pictures, Road to Rio is nonetheless one of the most memorable--and quotable (how many of your high school pals used to confound the teacher by declaring "You're in the groove, Jackson"?) ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi