Edgar Dearing Movies

Although coming in at an odd running time -- 40 minutes -- this interesting, low-budget drama looks at the adventures, or rather misadventures of a sailor (Paul von Schreiber) with a weekend leave in Los Angeles. The seaman is a country boy unused to the ways of big city women and so he gets his first shock when he picks up a comely lass and takes off with her for a few drinks together -- only to have her deliver a fanatical religious diatribe to the bar's customers. The second shock comes when a woman from a dance hall captures his fancy, then demands a ten-spot for the time she has spent with him. After the city, the ship may look pretty good. ~ Eleanor Mannikka, Rovi

Henry's friends think he's a coward because he refuses to fight a local bully, but his reason for refusing had more to do with wanting to impress Elise, the daughter of the chemistry teacher. While in her father's lab, Elise tells Henry he misunderstood her, and points out how brave her own father is: he uses himself as a guinea pig in experiments. As Henry is holding a test tube containing his latest experimental formula, a flash of lightning scares him and he reflexively swallows the formula. Henry starts for home, but the drug starts taking affect and he wanders into Kenniston manor, a supposedly haunted house, before going home and passing out. When he awakens the next day, he has an expensive ring in his hand. He soon learns that Mr. Quid, a teacher, and Mr. Bradley, the school principal, had been in the manor at the same time he was. He also learns that Bradley has disappeared, as has the famous Kenniston ring, and that Quid has been charged in connection with these events. Afraid that, under the influence of the drug, he is responsible for Bradley's disappearance, Henry and his friends set out to discover what really happened in the haunted house. ~ Craig Butler, Rovi

Produced by silent-film comedian Harold Lloyd, My Favorite Spy is a vehicle for bespectacled bandleader Kay Kyser, who resembles Lloyd more than somewhat. Just before embarking on his honeymoon with new bride Terry (Ellen Drew), Kyser is drafted into the Army. Proving to be a monumentally inefficient soldier, our hero is nonetheless pressed into service by US intelligence officer Major Allen (Moroni Olsen). It seems that Nazi agents have been passing secrets in the nightclub where Kyser's band performs, and Allen wants Kay to act as a counter-espionage agent. To maintain his cover, Kay is discharged from the army in disgrace, and is ordered to noisily make himself a "security risk", so that Nazi chieftan Robinson (Robert Armstrong) will invite Kay to join his spy operation. Trouble is, Kyser must keep his espionage activities secret from everyone-even his wife Terry, who is growing ever more impatient over Kay's unexplained absences from her boudoir. Making matters worse, Kyser is teamed with glamorous blonde secret agent Connie (Jane Wyman), whom Terry understandably suspects of being Kay's clandestine sweetheart. A multitude of slapstick situations follow, culminating in a wild chase through an abandoned theater, with Kay Kyser making like Harold Lloyd to rescue his wife from the Nazis. As directed by Tay Garnett, Kyser's ongoing marital woes seem more pathetic than funny; in addition, his Secret Service cohorts come off as the most sadistic bunch of "good guys" in screen history, bursting with laughter every time Kay's wife throws him out of their apartment. Even so, My Favorite Spy has a few genuine laughs, especially in the final reels. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Each of Bob Hope's "My Favorite" films (My Favorite Blonde, My Favorite Brunette, My Favorite Spy) was, by accident or design, a parody of a dead-serious movie genre. 1942's My Favorite Blonde, for example, was a takeoff of Alfred Hitchcock in general and Hitchcock's 39 Steps in particular. Two-bit vaudeville entertainer Hope gets mixed up with gorgeous blonde British-spy Madeline Carroll. The "maguffin" (Hitchcock's nickname for "gimmick") which ties the two stars together is a ring which contains the microfilmed plans for a revolutionary new bomber. Hope and Carroll are forced to take it on the lam when Hope is framed for murder by Nazi-agents Gale Sondergaard, George Zucco et. al. Highlights include Hope eluding capture by impersonating a famed psychologist (watch for Carl "Alfalfa" Switzer as Hope's most contentious "patient"). Madeline Carroll also got several opportunities to shine comedically, especially when she lapsed into cloying baby talk while posing as Hope's wife. Bob Hope was hesitant to work with My Favorite Blonde director Sidney Lanfield, having heard of Lanfield's reputation as an on-set dictator. However, the two got along so swimmingly that they would collaborate on such future top-notch Hope farces as Let's Face It (1943) and The Lemon Drop Kid (1951). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Wings for the Eagle is an overbaked but sincere tribute to the wartime defense workers at the Lockheed Aircraft Plant, where a good portion of the film was made. Hoping to dodge the draft, Corky Jones (Dennis Morgan) lands an "essential" job at Lockheed, eventually realizing the importance of his work and thereby renewing his own patriotism. Along the way, Corky and his pal Brad Maples (Jack Carson) bicker over the affections of Brad's former wife Roma (Ann Sheridan). A note of pathos is introduced in the form of Lockheed supervisor Jake Hanso (George Tobias), who loses his job when it is learned that he never became a US citizen but who demonstrates his loyalty to the United States in a variety of ways. When Jake's fighter-pilot son Pete (Russell Arms) is killed in the Philippines, a reformed Corky Jones joins the Air Force himself, single-handedly shooting down a Japanese Zero "For Jake and Pete." This incredible flag-waving coda aside, Wings for the Eagle is a reasonably believable yarn, definitely a product of its times yet perfectly capable of entertaining an audience of the 1990s. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In this crime drama, a remake of Forgotten Faces (1936), a convict busts out of prison to protect his daughter from her conniving mother so that the girl will be able to marry a decent guy in the future. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

A pregnant Alice Faye was forced to bow out of this colorful Fox musical, which instead went to Rita Hayworth, whom the studio borrowed from Columbia. Hayworth plays the highly fictitious Sally Elliott of the title, a musical star teaming up with Indiana boy Paul Dresser (Victor Mature), a runaway who after a brief stopover in a tank town medicine show arrives in Gay Nineties New York full of verve and vigor. There he composes the title tune for the fair lady and becomes the toast of Tin Pan Alley. There are the obligatory bumps on the road along the way, of course, but everything ends, as any Fox musical should, with a grand and glorious finale. Although Fox publicity claimed that My Gal Sal was based on a My Brother Paul, a biography by the composer's brother, Theodore Dreiser, it was actually concocted from an unpublished manuscript by Dreiser and his wife Helen Richardson. The film earned Oscars™ for art and set decoration and included such Dresser songs as "On the Banks of the Wabash", "I'se Your Honey, If You Wants Me, Liza", "Come Tell Me What's Your Answer (Yes or No)" and "Mr. Volunteer. House songwriters Leo Robin and Ralph Rainger contributed "Me and My Fella" and "On the Great White Way. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

This fourth entry in MGM's Thin Man series could just as well have been titled "Nick and Nora Charles Go to the Races". Officially retired from sleuthing, Nick Charles (William Powell) does his best to be a dutiful husband to his lovely wife Nora (Myrna Loy) and a good father to his young son Nick Jr. (Dickie Hall). But when murder rears its ugly head at the local race track, Nick is called in by Major Jason I. Sculley (Henry O'Neill), head of the New York athletic commission, to help solve the case. As usual, there is no shortage of suspects: This time the "rogue's gallery" includes high-rolling gamblers Link Stevens (Loring Smith) and Fred Macy (Joseph Anthony); Link's hoity-toity girlfriend Claire Porter (played by legendary acting teacher Stella Adler); two-bit tout "Rainbow" Benny Loomis (Lou Lubin); reporters Whitey Barrow (Paul Kelly) and Paul Clarke (Barry Nelson); and Clarke's sweetheart Molly Ford (Donna Reed). Highlights include a zany episode on a department-store merry-go-round, an outsized brawl at a fancy sea-food restaurant, and the inevitable gathering together of suspects in the offices of police lieutenant Abrams (Sam Levene). The flippant nature of Shadow of the Thin Man can be attributed to screenwriters Irving Brecher and Harry Kurnitz, both longtime friends and associates of comedian Groucho Marx. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In Preston Sturges' classic comedy of Depression-era America, filmmaker John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrea), fed up with directing profitable comedies like "Ants in Your Plants of 1939," is consumed with the desire to make a serious social statement in his upcoming film, "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?" Unable to function in the rarefied atmosphere of Hollywood, Sullivan decides to hit the road, disguised as a tramp, and touch base with the "real" people of America. But Sullivan's studio transforms his odyssey into a publicity stunt, providing the would-be nomad with a luxury van, complete with butler (Robert Greig) and valet (Eric Blore). Advised by his servants that the poor resent having the rich intrude upon them, Sullivan escapes his retinue and continues his travels incognito. En route, he meets a down-and-out failed actress (Veronica Lake). Experiencing firsthand the scroungy existence of real-life hoboes, Sullivan returns to Hollywood full of bleeding-heart fervor. After first arranging for the girl's screen test, he heads for the railyards, intending to improve the lot of the local rail-riders and bindlestiffs by handing out ten thousand dollars in five-dollar bills. Instead, Sullivan is coldcocked by a tramp, who steals Sullivan's clothes and identification. When the tramp is run over by a speeding train, the world at large is convinced that the great John L. Sullivan is dead. Meanwhile, the dazed Sullivan, dressed like a bum with no identification on his person, is arrested and put to work on a brutal Southern chain gang. With its almost Shakespearean combination of uproarious comedy and grim tragedy, Sullivan's Travels is Sturges' masterpiece and one of the finest movies about movies ever made. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Hold That Ghost was the second of Abbott and Costello's starring films, but was held back from release in favor of their third picture, the more "topical" In the Navy. In Ghost, Bud and Lou play a couple of service-station owners who happen to be hanging around when gangster Moose Mattson (William B. Davidson) is killed. According to the terms of Mattson's will, whosoever is present when "the coppers dim my lights for the last time" will inherit his estate, which consists of a deserted mansion in the middle of nowhere. Crooked attorney Russell Hicks, who knows that Mattson has hidden hundreds of thousands of dollars somewhere in the lodge, dispatches sinister Charlie Smith (Marc Lawrence) to escort Abbott and Costello to the house, with instructions to "take care" of the trusting boys once they've arrived. Charlie charters a bus to take A&C out to the mansion; also on board, going off to various other destinations, are handsome Dr. Jackson (Richard Carlson), lovely Norma Lind (Evelyn Ankers) and professional radio screamer Camille Brewster (Joan Davis). It is inevitable that this disparate group is stranded along with Abbott and Costello in the forbidding mansion on a dark and stormy night. Charlie Smith is promptly murdered by parties unknown; throughout the rest of the film, Charlie's body pops up at the most inopportune moments, reducing the already tremulous Costello to a quivering mass of jello. The plot is merely an excuse to showcase Abbott and Costello's superbly timed cross-talking routines, a riotous impromptu dance performed by Costello and Joan Davis, and, of course, the legendary "moving candle" bit, which may well be Costello's funniest-ever screen scene. Hold That Ghost was originally designed and previewed as a 65-minute programmer title Oh, Charlie, but Universal decided to expand the length and throw in a few guest stars to secure top-of-the-bill bookings. This is why Hold That Ghost begins and ends with barely relevant musical numbers featuring Ted Lewis and the Andrews Sisters. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Rosalind Russell stars as a no-nonsense judge who dabbles in sculpting in her spare time. Walter Pidgeon costars as a reporter assigned to discredit Rosalind after she rules against his boss (Edward Arnold) in a divorce case. Pidgeon plans to frame the judge in a compromising situation, then blackmail her into reducing the alimony. He succeeds in humiliating Rosalind, but regrets his actions when he realizes he's fallen in love with her. All ends happily in this glossy derivative of MGM's earlier Libelled Lady (36). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The Irving Berlin-Morrie Ryskind Broadway musical hit Louisiana Purchase came to the screen with surprisingly few emendations in 1941. Bob Hope replaces Broadway's William Gaxton in the role of innocent political flunkey Jim Taylor, set up to take the fall for wholesale graft by a group of corrupt Louisiana politicians. Taylor's friendly adversary is bumptuous U.S. senator Loganberry (Victor Moore, repeating his stage role), whose efforts at reform only end up getting him in hot water as well. Loganberry solves his own problems by marrying Mme. Bordelaise (Irene Bordoni), the temptress who'd been sent out to place him in a compromising position, forcing Taylor to straighten out the mess himself in a hilarious climactic courtroom filibuster. ("If it's good enough for James Stewart, it's good enough for me.") Some of the satirical bite of the Broadway version had to be blunted for movie-audience consumption, though Paramount managed to avoid potential lawsuits by using a device which originated in the play: an amusing opening "opera bouffe" wherein it was established beyond all doubt that Louisiana was a totally mythical state! (At one point, a bevy of chorus girls sing the "any resemblance to actual persons living or dead" disclaimer.) On a historical note, Louisiana Purchase was Bob Hope's first Technicolor appearance. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Knute Rockne-All American was Pat O'Brien's finest hour: thanks to intensive rehearsals and numerous makeup applications, he so closely resembled the title character that, in the words of Rockne's widow, "I almost expected him to make love with me". The life of the legendary Notre Dame football coach is recounted from his childhood, when young Rockne (played by Johnny Sheffield) startles his Norwegian-immigrant parents by announcing at the dinner table that he's just been introduced to "the most wonderful game of the world." As an adult, Rockne works his way through Indiana's Notre Dame university, under the watchful and benevolent eye of Father Callahan (Donald Crisp) A brilliant student, Rockne is urged by Father Nieuwland (Albert Basserman) to become a chemist, or at the very least remain a chemistry teacher. Newly married to Bonnie Skilles (Gale Page), Rockne at first sticks to academics, but the call of the gridiron is too loud for him to ignore, and before long he has built his reputation as the winningest college football coach in America. One of his most significant contributions to the game is the invention of the tactical shift, inspired by the precision choreography of a team of nightclub dancers! Among the players nurtured by Rockne are the immortal Four Horsemen-Miller (William Marshall), Stuhlreder (Harry Lukats), Laydon (Kane Richmond) and Crowley (William Byrne), and of course the tragic George Gipp, superbly enacted by Ronald Reagan. His career continues unabated until his death in a plane crash in 1931. The screenplay of Knute Rockne-All American tends to be all highlights and little story, with several of the more dramatic passages telegraphed well in advance (just before her husband's death, Bonnie Rockne comments forebodingly "It's gotten cold all of a sudden"). Still, the film remains one of the best and most inspirational sports biographies ever made, with a heart-wrenching conclusion guaranteed to moisten the eyes of even the most jaundiced viewer. Ironically, the film's most famous scene, George Gipp's deathbed admonition to "Win one for the Gipper", was for many years excised from all TV prints due to a legal entanglement stemming from an earlier radio dramatization of Rockne's life; fortunately, this and several related scenes were restored to the film in the early 1990s. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi