John Meredith Movies

In this musical, a young socialite reluctantly attends an exclusive school; she would rather be working on becoming a Broadway star. She is so determined to be one that she begins ditching her classes to work as a chorus girl in a musical. Following the show's closing, she invites two fellow dancers to visit her home. Musical mayhem and romance ensue. Songs include: "On the Sunny Side of the Street," "It's So Easy," "All I Know Is Si Si" (Doris Fisher, Allan Roberts), "Boogie Woogie from Nowhere" (Saul Chaplin). ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Officially released one month before PRC's "Billy the Kid" entry Prairie Badmen, Ghost of Hidden Valley, another "Billy"effort, was issued simultaneously with the later film for its New York debut in July of 1946. The story is the usual, with Billy Carson (Buster Crabbe) and Fuzzy Q. Jones (Al St. John) defended some good guys against some bad guys. This time, a young homesteading couple (Jean Carlin, John Meredith) are menaced by a gang of rustlers. The villains are using the couple's spread to hide their stolen livestock, threatening to kill both husband and wife if they tell the authorities. But Billy and Fuzzy see to it that justice triumphs within the film's allotted 56-minute running time. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Bedlam is one of the costlier psychological-horror efforts from RKO producer Val (Curse of the Cat People) Lewton. Boris Karloff stars as the supervisor of the notorious 18th century British insane asylum St. Mary's of Bethlehem, better known as "Bedlam." Anna Lee, who co-stars as the feisty mistress of a fatuous government official, is appalled by the miserable treatment afforded the Bedlam inmates and insists that reforms be initiated. The crafty, politically connected Karloff responds by having Lee herself incarcerated in the institution: she is a "willful woman", and therefore must be insane. With the help of a few of the more rational patients, Lee stages a mutiny, capturing Karloff and giving him a mock trial. Though they don't truly intend to harm Karloff, he is seriously injured by one of his tormented patients. Assuming that Karloff is dead, the other inmates wall up his body in the cellar--and as the last brick is put in place, we see Karloff's eyes suddenly open! Though it has it moments of genuine terror, Bedlam is as historically accurate as possible, right down to the archaic dialogue passages. For the most part, the film is an indictment against political corruption, with Karloff (in a terrific, multi-faceted performance) alternately bullying and wheedling to save his own behind. Val Lewton (writing under the pseudonym Carlos Keith) based his film on one of the illustrations in Hogarth's "The Rake's Progress," glimpses of which are seen throughout the film as transitional devices. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Director Robert Stevenson collaborated with novelist Aldous Huxley and theatrical-producer John Houseman on the screenplay for this 1944 adaptation of Charlotte Bronte's gothic romance Jane Eyre. After several harrowing years in an orphanage, where she was placed by a supercilious relative for exhibiting the forbidden trait of "willfulness," Jane Eyre (Joan Fontaine) secures work as a governess. Her little charge, French-accented Adele (Margaret O'Brien), is pleasant enough. But Jane's employer, the brooding, tormented Edward Rochester (Orson Welles), terrifies the prim young governess. Under Jane's gentle influence, Rochester drops his forbidding veneer, going so far as to propose marriage to Jane. But they are forbidden connubial happiness when it is revealed that Rochester is still married to a gibbering lunatic whom he is forced to keep locked in his attic. Rochester reluctantly sends Jane away, but she returns, only to find that the insane wife has burned down the mansion and rendered Rochester sightless. In the tradition of Victorian romances, this purges Rochester of any previous sins, making him a worthy mate for the loving Jane. The presence of Orson Welles in the cast (he receives top billing), coupled with the dark, Germanic style of the direction and photography, has led some impressionable cineasts to conclude that Welles, and not Stevenson, was the director. To be sure, Welles contributed ideas throughout the filming; also, the script was heavily influenced by the Mercury Theater on the Air radio version of Jane Eyre, on which Welles, John Houseman and musical director Bernard Herrmann all collaborated. But Jane Eyre was made at 20th Century-Fox, a studio disinclined to promote the auteur theory; like most Fox productions, this is a work by committee rather than the product of one man. This in no way detracts from the overall excellence of the film; of all adaptations of Jane Eyre (it had previously been filmed in 1913, 1915 and 1921, and has been remade several times since), this 1943 version is one of the best. Keep an eye out for an uncredited Elizabeth Taylor as the consumptive orphanage friend of young Jane Eyre (played as child by Peggy Ann Gardner). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Ernst Lubitsch directs the 1942 political satire classic To Be or Not to Be, which marked the final screen appearance of comedienne Carole Lombard. In Warsaw at the beginning of WWII, Maria Tura (Lombard) and husband Joseph (Jack Benny) perform anti-Nazi plays with their theater troupe until they are forced to switch to Shakespeare's Hamlet. Lt. Stanislav Sobinski (Robert Stack) falls for Maria and meets up with her during Joseph's famous "To Be or Not to Be" speech as Hamlet. When Stanislav is eventually dispatched for war, he implicates Maria with Professor Siletsky (Stanley Ridges), who has a secret plan to destroy the Warsaw resistance. The Polish theater troupe is then forced to use their theatrical skills to ensure their survival. Eventually, they turn to impersonating Nazi officers -- and even Hitler himself -- in order to outwit the enemy and keep the resistance safe from spies. To Be or Not to Be opened to a controversial release in 1942, when the U.S. was still very much involved in WWII. It was remade in 1983 starring Mel Brooks and real-life wife Anne Bancroft. ~ Andrea LeVasseur, Rovi

A Yank in the RAF is brash pilot Tim Baker (Tyrone Power), freshly arrived in London. Hoping to impress his nightclub-singer girlfriend Carol Brown (Betty Grable), Tim joins the Royal Air Force, immediately alienating everyone with his cockiness and "What the Hell?" attitude concerning the war. All this changes when Baker is obliged to fly under combat conditions, whereupon he shows what he's really made of. One of the most popular of the pre-Pearl Harbor "preparedness" films, A Yank in the RAF comes to an exciting conclusion, with actual newsreel footage of the evacuation of Dunkirk expertly matched with studio mockups. As a bonus, Betty Grable sings such catchy numbers as Another Little Dream Won't Do Us Any Harm. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Jack Benny brings his own distinctive touch to Brandon Thomas' venerable (and oft-filmed) stage farce Charley's Aunt. Utilizing a gloriously unconvincing broad-A English accent, Benny is cast as Lord Fancourt Babberly, a somewhat overaged undergraduate at Oxford University. Babbs' roommates Jack Chesney (James Ellison) and Charley Wyckeham (Richard Haydn, in his film debut) are desirous of inviting their lady friends Kitty Verdun (Arleen Whelan) and Amy Spettigue (Anne Baxter) to their quarters, but first they must secure the services of a proper escort. When Charley's aunt Donna Lucia D'Alvadorez (Kay Francis) is detained, Jack and Charley coerce Babbs, who has dressed up as an old lady for a school play, to pose as the absent Donna Lucia. The fun really begins when, for reasons far too complicated to detail here, both Jack's father Sir Francis Chesney (Laird Cregar) and Amy's uncle Stephen Spettigue (Edmund Gwenn) romantically pursue the bogus aunt. The third-act arrival of the real Donna Lucia only adds to the comic confusion-but at least poor Babbs has finally found a lady friend closer to his own age. The female-impersonation angle in Charley's Aunt has been known to descend into vulgarity, but Jack Benny remains both hilarious and tasteful throughout. Understandably, the film was one of Benny's favorites. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The last of RKO's Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers vehicles, The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle is also the least typical. At their best playing carefree characters in gossamer-thin musical comedy plotlines, Fred and Ginger seem slightly ill at ease cast as the real-life dancing team of Vernon and Irene Castle. The stripped-to-essentials storyline boils down to novice dancer Irene (Rogers) convincing vaudeville comic Vernon (Astaire) to give up slapstick in favor of "classy" ballroom dancing. With the help of agent Edna May Oliver, the Castles hit their peak of fame and fortune in the immediate pre-World War I years. When Vernon is called to arms, Irene stays behind in the US, making patriotic movie serials to aid the war effort. Vernon is killed in a training accident, leaving a tearful Irene to carry on alone. To soften the shock of Astaire's on-screen death (it still packs a jolt when seen today), RKO inserted a closing "dream" dancing sequence, with a spectral Vernon and Irene waltzing off into the heavens. The film's production was hampered by the on-set presence of the real Irene Castle, whose insistence upon accuracy at all costs drove everyone to distraction--especially Ginger Rogers, who felt as though she was being treated like a marionette rather than an actress. In one respect, Mrs. Castle had good reason to be so autocratic. Walter, the "severest critic servant" character played by Walter Brennan, was in reality a black man. RKO was nervous about depicting a strong, equal-footing friendship between the white Castles and their black retainer, so a Caucasian actor was hired for the role. Mrs. Castle was understandably incensed by this alteration, and for the rest of her days chastised RKO for its cowardice. As it turned out, it probably wouldn't have mattered if Walter had been black, white, Chicano or Siamese; The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle was a financial bust, losing $50,000 at the box office. Perhaps as a result, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers would not team up again for another ten years. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi