Helen Eby-Rock Movies

Martha Hyer is appropriately cast as glamorous Hollywood movie star Carol Haven, who sweeps into the lives of Bill Davis (Brian Keith) and his family. Falling in love with Bill, Carol insists that she is willing to give up her career in order to assume the new roles of wife and mother. Bill of course is delighted--but it soon becomes obvious that Carol's heart is still firmly entrenched in the Hollywood Hills. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

This forgettable piece of 1950s sleaze stars Cleo Moore as a voluptuous blonde who becomes a successful commercial photographer. Richard Crenna, making a major break from his TV image as Our Miss Brooks' Walter Denton, plays a reporter who takes a special interest in Moore's career. The beauteous picture taker becomes involved in a blackmail plot when she goes to work for a Confidential-type magazine, nearly losing her life to mobsters. It was the opinion of many contemporary reviewers that the title Over-Exposed referred not to the photographs taken by Moore but to the generous amounts of cleavage displayed by the actress' low cut gowns. Though Cleo Moore has become a "cult" favorite thanks to her appearances in the turgid melodramas directed by Hugo Haas, Over-Exposed demonstrates that her minimal acting talent vanished altogether without Haas' guiding hand. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Callaway Went Thataway is an amiable spoof of early television's "Hopalong Cassidy" craze. Fred MacMurray and Dorothy McGuire star as Mike Frye and Deborah Patterson, advertising copywriters who have pulled off quite a coup by purchasing the old "Smokey Callaway" Westerns for TV. Trouble begins when the sponsor wants to meet up with Callaway (Howard Keel) and sign him to a long-term contract. But Smokey, a notorious boozer and womanizer, has dropped out of sight and left for parts unknown. In desperation, Mike and Debbie hire a Callaway look-alike named Stretch Barnes (also Howard Keel), whom they give a crash course in the art of being a boyhood idol ("You're a cowboy star. You have two expressions: hat on and hat off"). Barnes not only pulls off the ruse with the greatest of ease, but also takes his responsibilities to his young fans quite seriously. The plot thickens when the real Smoky Callaway emerges from a ten-year bender to demand a piece of the action. Callaway Went Thataway is full of wonderful moments, not least of which is a climactic fistfight between Callaway and Barnes, adroitly edited and photographed so as to make it appear that Howard Keel is actually punching out himself! The supporting cast includes future TV favorites Jesse White, Stan Freberg, and Hugh Beaumont (unbilled), while several MGM stars make surprise cameo appearances. Perhaps to avoid potential lawsuits, the film ends with a timorous disclaimer, stating that most Western stars are generous, upstanding individuals -- and not at all like the bibulous, mercenary Smoky Callaway. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Caged, considered the best woman's prison film ever made, represents a union between realistic socially conscious drama and the more stylized world of film noir. Marie, (Eleanor Parker), is sentenced to prison for helping her husband in a small robbery. The prison is run by the sadistic matron Evelyn (Hope Emerson) who is secure in her position due to corrupt political influence. The film shows Marie's slow disillusionment with society and her eventual decision to become a prostitute in order to gain parole after observing her friend and fellow inmate Kitty (Betty Garde) lose her sanity and murder their oppressor Evelyn. With this uncompromisingly pessimistic statement on human nature, John Cromwell reaches his peak as a director. Under his expert direction, Eleanor Parker gives the best performance of her career and creates a convincing metamorphosis from a innocent young girl to a hardened criminal. Her performance is nuanced, low-keyed and emotionally charged. Equally impressive is Cromwell's visual realization of the claustrophobia of prison life, aided by the high-contrast photography of Carl Guthrie. This excellent, grim drama is uncompromising in its refusal to sentimentalize the plight of Marie as a victim or to absolve her of her role in her fate, nor does it absolve society as it shows the results of desperation and brutalization on human dignity. ~ Linda Rasmussen, All Movie Guide

Garson Kanin's Broadway hit was transferred to the screen with only a few passing nods to the stricter censorship required by films. Judy Holliday won an Oscar for her portrayal of Billie Dawn, a strident, dim-bulbed ex-chorus girl who is the mistress of millionaire junk tycoon Harry Brock (Broderick Crawford). In Washington to put a few senators and congressmen in his pocket (the better to lay the groundwork for an illegal cartel), the rude-and-crude Brock realizes that the unrefined Billie will prove an embarrassment. Thus he hires idealistic but impoverished Paul Verrell (William Holden) to pump some intelligence and "class" into Billie. Paul does his job too well; by awakening Billie's social and political consciousness, he turns the girl into Brock's most formidable foe in his efforts to buy influence in DC. Along the way Paul and Billie fall in love. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

John Garfield, in the best performance of his career, portrays Joe Morse, an ambitious attorney who has long since abandoned his scruples in favor of monetary reward. Morse now represents the interests of crime boss Ben Tucker (Roy Roberts), who plans to take over the numbers racket in New York. Morse has devised a way of doing this legally and above-board, with no violence: Tucker's people will bring about the collapse of the illegal numbers racket in the city, using a race track-betting scam that will bankrupt the small-time underworld numbers banks; an investigation will ensue, along with a call for a legal numbers operation in the form of a lottery, which Tucker will control through Morse's machinations. The whole plan hinges on Morse's estranged brother, Leo (Thomas Gomez), a small-time numbers banker who is to be shielded from the collapse, and who will serve as the "legitimate" front for Tucker. Leo is the flaw in the plan, however, because not only can't he stand the sight of Joe, but he is also too honest to participate in the plan -- he doesn't want his employees, all decent people just looking to earn a living, forced into the employ of real gangsters. Joe orchestrates a series of police raids that force Leo into his corner, and Joe's plan seems to be working out, but then the whole enterprise is threatened when a rival mob, run by Tucker's former Prohibition-era partner, Fico (Paul Fix), starts pressuring Leo, trying to get to Joe and Tucker. Fico and his men aren't any different from Tucker's mob, except that they're prepared to start shooting sooner to get what they want. Tucker decides to hang tough and expects everyone, including Leo, to do the same, even when Fico starts sending thugs around to frighten everyone. Soon Joe is beset by problems on three fronts -- he wants his brother out of Tucker's combination and safe; he is trying to romance Leo's bookkeeper (Beatrice Pearson), who is too nice a girl for who he is; and his own well-being is threatened by both Fico and Tucker, and a state investigator who has already tapped the phone of Joe's otherwise respectable partner. All of these threads are pulled together in the final section of the film, which is as violent and disturbing, yet poetic and graceful a resolution as any crime film of the 1940s ever delivered. Force of Evil was star-crossed almost from the start, as many of the people involved, including star John Garfield and director Abraham Polonsky (a writer making his debut behind the camera, with help from assistant director Don Weis in doing the camera set-ups and blocking), were suspect at the time for their leftist political views. Indeed, the company that made Force of Evil, Enterprise Productions, was also in trouble for the leftist leanings of its films in the midst of the Red Scare, and went out of business just as the movie was finished -- dropped by United Artists and picked up by MGM, of all studios, Force of Evil made it into theaters during Christmas week of 1948, not the ideal schedule for something as grim (albeit great) as this film was. As it turned out, it was Polonsky's last chance to direct for more than 20 years, and Garfield's last completely successful film. And a movie that should have been a triumph for all concerned ended up a cult favorite. ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

Former army pilot Robert Taylor is accused, on the basis of strong circumstantial evidence, of his wife's murder. Suffering from periodic blackouts, Taylor isn't so certain of his innocence himself. When offered a brain operation, Taylor refuses, knowing that if he is proven sane he will be executed for murder. Instead, he opts for confinement in a high-walled veteran's mental institution. A compassionate lady doctor (Audrey Totter) falls in love with Taylor, convincing him to have the operation. Even after emerging from the ether, Taylor cannot remember any of the details concerning his wife's death--but he does recall that the dead woman had recently taken a job with a publisher (Herbert Marshall) of religious books. While the killer's identity is tipped off by this revelation, the audience is never certain that Robert Taylor isn't a murderer--especially since he'd previously appeared as a homicidal maniac in the 1946 film Undercurrent. The best moment in High Wall is the casual disposal of the sole witness to the murder, via a long, dark elevator shaft. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

A change of pace for both director Vincente Minnelli and star Katharine Hepburn, this taut drama features the latter as Ann Hamilton, the daughter of a scientist (Edmund Gwenn), who after a whirlwind romance marries handsome but slightly mysterious inventor turned businessman Alan Garroway (Robert Taylor). But wedded bliss proves short-lived when Garroway refuses to discuss his brother Michael, whose presence is felt constantly despite the mystery surrounding his whereabouts. The missing Michael becomes an obsession for Ann, whose curiosity is piqued even more after a chance encounter with Sylvia Burton (Jayne Meadows), a young woman who figures in the lives of both brothers and who displays a strange resemblance to Ann herself. Despite Alan's dire misgivings, Ann feels compelled to solve the mystery of Michael, until, that is, she discovers that Alan may very well have murdered his own brother. Undercurrent marked the screen debut of Jayne Meadows and a breakthrough of sorts for Robert Mitchum, whom M-G-M borrowed from David O. Selznick for a reputed $25,000. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

This fifth entry in MGM's off-and-on "Thin Man" series maintains the high production and story values of the first four. Per the title, retired private detective Nick Charles (William Powell) pays a visit to his home town of Sycamore Springs, with wife Nora (Myrna Loy) in tow. Poor Nick is amusingly browbeaten by his parents (Harry Davenport and Lucile Watson), who wanted their boy to study medicine, is frustrated by the fact that there isn't a good stiff drink to be had in town, and is hilariously defeated by a recalcitrant hammock. In a more serious vein, Nick and Nora become involved in international intrigue while investigating the murder of a local house painter. If the identity of the murderer seems obvious today, it is only because the actor in question has played so many "surprise killers" in other films of this genre. A refreshing change of pace for the usually urbanized "Thin Man" series, The Thin Man Goes Home features such colorful suspects as Gloria DeHaven, Edward Brophy, Lloyd Corrigan, Leon Ames, and, best of all, Ann Revere as a local eccentric named "Crazy Mary". ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

This 1933 movie version of Sinclair Lewis's novel Ann Vickers stars Irene Dunne in the title role. Left alone and pregnant by her soldier sweetheart (Bruce Cabot), Ann turns her life around by devoting herself to social work. A frustrating tenure as psychologist in a poorly maintained woman's prison only strengthens Ann's resolve to improve the world around her. She falls in love with the politically progressive judge (Walter Huston) who helps finance her career, standing by him when he is unjustly accused of graft. Ann Vickers contains one startling sequence in which Ann, following the premature end of her pregnancy, walks with great discomfort around her garden while she speaks wistfully about,"the daughter I'll never have." Otherwise, the film suffers from its adaptors' soap-opera mindset, as well as the decision to cram Lewis's complex novel into a brief 75 minutes' screen time. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide