Stanley Fields Movies

Often referred to as an imitation of Warner's legendary prison drama I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang (1932), RKO's stirring Hell's Highway was actually released a few months earlier. The two films were in production at the same time, but RKO was determined to beat the competition (which also included Universal's Laughter in Hell, 1933) and not a few corners were cut. All three films were set in a generic Southern state (read Georgia) and depicted a horrid penal system more akin to the Middle Ages than the supposedly enlightened 1930s. In Hell's Highway, the chain gang prisoners wear uniforms with a large target printed on the back and the torture instrument du jour is a so-called sweatbox, in constant operation so that unscrupulous contractor Billings (Oscar Apfel) may construct his "Liberty Highway" on time and under budget. When a prisoner dies from exposure in the dreaded contraption, Duke Ellis (Richard Dix) concocts a plan to escape. The escape comes to an abrupt halt with the sudden arrival of his kid brother, Johnny (Tom Brown). The latter ends up in the sweatbox, but Duke has the kid transferred to office duty by using a bit of blackmail. There is a climactic prison riot, during which Duke is killed after saving his brother once again. Or at least that was what a preview audience saw. The death of the film's hero proved so shocking that RKO hastily filmed an alternative ending and Hell's Highway, as it survives today, concludes with Billings being charged with murder (the sweatbox situation) and Duke asked to testify against him. Typical of pre-code Hollywood, Hell's Highway features an openly gay prisoner (who bats his eyes at the prison guards), several scenes of torture, an appearance of near equality between black and white inmates, a bible-quoting polygamist (Charles Middleton), a wife-murdering guard (Warner Richmond), and, for added verisimilitude, a handicapped character who, when mortally wounded during the riot, signs his farewell to this world. Hell's Highway may not have enjoyed the status of I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang, but it remains a powerful indictment of the Georgian penal system of 1931 and a fine, well-acted film in its own right. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

College football is satirized in this comedy that begins as racketeer "Knucks" McGoin buys Canarsie College and fills it with hoods and professional wrestlers posing as students. When football season comes, these "students" beat the tar out of their rivals during the games. Naturally the stands are SRO during home games; naturally, the racketeer keeps all the money. Things are going well until his rival gang figures out his scam and does the same thing. In the end, the two teams meet during the championship and all heck breaks loose when the gridiron heros are found to be packing iron of their own. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

The 1930 George & Ira Gershwin musical smash Girl Crazy was refashioned for the screen in 1932 as a vehicle for comedians Bert Wheeler and Robert Woolsey. Most of the original play's romantic plotline has been jettisoned, shifting the emphasis to cabdriver Jimmy Deegan (Wheeler) and his larcenous passengers Slick and Kate Foster (Woolsey and Kitty Kelly). After a tortuous cross-country trip, Jimmy, Slick and Kate end up in Custerville, Arizona, where each of the new sheriffs is routinely bumped off by local reprobate Lank Sanders (Stanley Fields) and his gang. When the newly-opened nightclub of city slicker Danny Churchill (Eddie Quillan) proves successful thanks to the singing talents of Kate Foster, Lank Sanders, owner of a rival cabaret, plots to run for the sheriff's office so that he can close down Danny's establishment. Hoping to stave off this eventuality, Danny conspires with Slick to nominate Jimmy as sheriff (Slick figures that a dead man won't be able to collect his gargantuan cab fare!). With the help of his tagalong kid-sister Tessie (Mitzi Green), Jimmy wins the election then has to run for his life when Lank comes a-gunnin' for him. Ending up south of the border in Mexico, Jimmy and Slick manage to get the drop on Lank, and all's right with the world. Contrary to previously published reports, only three of the original Gershwin songs were retained for the film version of Girl Crazy: I Got Rhythm, performed Ethel Merman-style by Kitty Kelly; But Not for Me, rushed through by nominal romantic leads Eddie Quillan and Arline Judge, then parodied by juvenile impressionist Mitzi Green (who does quickie imitations of George Arliss, Bing Crosby and Edna May Oliver); and Bidin' My Time, used as background music for an opening scene in which the camera slowly pans across the tombstones of Custerville's former sheriffs. Bert Wheeler and his perennial screen vis-a-vis Dorothy Lee deliver the film's best number, You've Got What Gets Me, originally written by the Gershwins for their 1927 production Funny Face. Long unavailable thanks to the 1943 MGM remake, Girl Crazy was resurrected in the late 1970s; though it proved a disappointment for Gershwin purists, it won a whole new fan following for Wheeler & Woolsey, who are very funny throughout. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

William Powell plays a condemned murderer who is being transported from Hong Kong to San Quentin by way of a luxury liner. Also on board is the lovely Kay Francis, who is suffering from a fatal heart condition. The sympathetic detective (Warren Hymer) escorting Powell allows the prisoner to roam the decks without handcuffs, an opportunity Powell exploits by arranging an escape with two of his old cronies (Frank McHugh and Aline MacMahon). But when he meets Francis, Powell falls in love. Francis is equally smitten, and the two conduct an exquisite shipboard affair, neither telling the other of their impending doom. Powell makes his escape, but is halted in mid-flight when Francis has a heart attack. He rushes Francis back on board ship to her doctor, knowing full well that this will mean his recapture. As they bid goodbye, Powell and Francis promise to meet again one year later in Agua Caliente--a rendezvous that neither will survive to keep. A year passes. At a bar in Agua Caliente, two cocktail glasses suddenly shatter, as if having been joined in a toast by unseen hands. One Way Passage was remade in 1940 as 'Til We Meet Again. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Robert E. Sherwood's play This Is New York was the source for Two Kinds of Women, appropriately filmed at Paramount's Long Island studios. Miriam Hopkins stars as Emma Krull, the free-spirited daughter of a South Dakota senator (Irving Pichel). Warned by her father that New York City is a den of sin and vice, Emma decides to disprove this by heading to the Big Apple herself. Here she meets randy playboy Joseph Greshman (Phillips Holmes), and manages to wangle a proposal out of him almost immediately upon their meeting! Unfortunately, Greshman is presently married to gold-digging chorus girl Phyllis Adrian (Wynne Gibson), who doesn't intend to let him -- or his millions -- off the hook. One thing leads to another, and before long Phyllis has taken a fatal header off of a skyscraper. The ensuing scandal obliges Senator Krull to travel to New York to see what's going on. Rather than say "I told you so," the Senator embraces his daughter and secures a promise that the now-contrite Greshman will give up the Big City and settle down in South Dakota. Director William C. DeMille does a masterful job keeping the audience's mind off the fact that "daughter" Miriam Hopkins is exactly eleven years younger than her screen "daddy" Irving Pichel. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

In this western, a wealthy eastern returns from a polo match to find that his father has been murdered. Later, he is riffling through his father's papers when he discovers that his family may have had a different name. He then finds evidence that causes him to suspect that a certain western rancher may be implicated in the killing. He hops in a plane and heads West, but he doesn't make it as he plane ends up crashing into the bathroom of a pretty woman. She falls in love with him, but this causes great friction with her lover, a ranch foreman. Meanwhile the bad rancher orders the foreman to bring the son to him--unarmed. Fortunately, the young man escapes and goes to meet the rancher for a final showdown. He then learns that he is his real father. The rancher then tells him that the other man's death was accidental, that he had only gone back East to confront him as he had stolen his wife and son. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

The peripatetic spouses referred to in the title are all travelling salesmen, scooting to and from their wives via train. In Detroit on business, young unmarried salesman Barry (Frank Albertson) finds himself at a wild party where his fellow drummers, husbands all, are being entertained by a bevy of call-girls. One of these cuties is Ruby (Evelyn Brent), who ends up shooting libidinous salesman Ben (Carl Miller). For a while, it looks as though the cops are going to pin the shooting on Barry, but Ruby confesses at the last moment; meanwhile, Ben recovers from his wound, but may not be able to patch up his marriage when his wife shows up unexpectedly at the scene of the crime. Some much-needed laughs are provided by Hugh Herbert, dropping his usual "woo woo" gestures in favor of a philosophical Jewish characterization. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The first talkie version of Zane Grey's classic yarn Riders of the Purple Sage proved a suitable vehicle for Fox Studios' resident cowboy star George O'Brien. Within an astonishingly brief running time, the film manages to pack together all the plot ingredients in the Grey original, save one: chief villain Noah Beery is no longer an amoral Mormon elder but instead a crooked judge. O'Brien is cast as Texas Ranger Jim Lassiter, who devotes his life to rescuing his sister and daughter, who've been kidnapped by Lew Waters (Beery). Taking a job at the ranch owned by Jane Withersteen (Marguerite Churchill), Jim learns from Jane that Waters is now living pseudonymously as "respectable" Judge Dyer. The famous finale, in which Jim and Jane escape a posse by sealing themselves off in a fertile valley seems a bit ludicrous when seen today, but works within the context of the film. Magnificently photographed by George Schneiderman, the 1931 Riders of the Purple Sage remains the best adaptation of this Zane Grey classic (A remake of a 1925 Tom Mix vehicle, it would itself be remade, less effectively, in 1941). ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Poor but honest district attorney Fredric March, sick of the "one law for rich, one law for poor" imbalance, sentences selfish society girl Claudette Colbert to ten years in prison for vehicular manslaughter. The sentence is reduced to two years due to political pressure; nonetheless, Claudette feels humiliated by March and vows revenge. While incarcerated, the girl learns a few lessons in humility, and by the time she has completed her sentence she has become most popular and kindhearted inmate in the joint. Upon her release, Claudette seeks out March and declares her love for him. Based on a story by Alice Duer Miller, Manslaughter had been previously filmed by Cecil B. DeMille in 1922; the great director used the plotline as an excuse for an extended (and gloriously pointless) flashback to Ancient Rome. This 1930 talkie remake is infinitely more tasteful and restrained than the DeMille version--but not quite as much fun to watch. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The first "talkie" gangster movie to capture the public's imagination, Mervyn LeRoy's Little Caesar started a cycle of crime-related movies that Warner Bros. rode across the ensuing decade and right into World War II with titles such as All Through the Night (1941). At the start of the picture, Caesar Enrico "Rico" Bandello (Edward G. Robinson, made up to look a lot like the real-life Al Capone) and his friend Joe Massara (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) are robbing a gas station -- later on, at a diner, they're looking over a newspaper and see a story about Diamond Pete Montana (Ralph Ince), a gangster so well known that he gets headlines and stories written about how powerful he is. That's what Rico wants, more than money or anything else: to be czar of the underworld and "not just another mug." Joe admits that sometimes he just thinks of trying to become what he wanted to be when he started out: a professional dancer. They head east to Chicago (which is never named, but with the talk of the north side and the territories, you know what city it is) and Rico talks his way into the local mob run by Sam Vettori (Stanley Fields). The leader has his doubts over how quick Rico is to go for his gun, but also thinks he might be useful if he is as fearless as he says and can be kept under control.

Soon Rico is Sam's top enforcer and bodyguard, but it isn't long before he starts acting like the boss, questioning other members' loyalty and bravery and pushing into Sam's role as leader. He also commands the loyalty of the gang through his resourcefulness at planning and pulling jobs that are tough and risky, and getting away with them; the only exception is Joe, their respectable "front man," who has found romance with an actress (Glenda Farrell) and a career, and wants out of helping the gang. Rico won't let him leave, and pushes him to help them on a brazen New Year's Eve robbery of a restaurant, during which the new crime commissioner is shot dead by Rico. Now the heat is on, but instead of keeping a low profile, Rico seizes control of the gang from Sam and secures his power by ruthlessly rubbing out the only member (William Collier) who seems likely to squeal, gunning the man down on the steps of a church. Before long, Rico is the first among equals among the local mob chieftains, sharing a dais at a dinner honoring him with his nominal boss and one-time idol Diamond Pete. He's also making enemies by the bushel -- Flaherty (Thomas E. Jackson), the cop heading the investigation into the murder of the commissioner, won't let up and makes it his personal business to nail Rico, and the rival chieftains don't like the publicity Rico's getting or the attention it brings to all of them. Rico survives attempts on his life and consolidates his hold on the streets, and is suddenly on the edge of achieving his goal -- the "Big Boy" (Sidney Blackmer), the wealthy social Brahmin who really controls crimes in the city, invites him to a meeting to tell him that Diamond Pete is finished. Rico is going to be in charge of the rackets across the entire city and making sure the local bosses stay in line. He is at the pinnacle of his career, and then Rico overreaches -- he can still be nailed for the murder of the commissioner, and is paranoid enough not to trust Joe, even though Joe helped saved Rico's life and insists that he'll never squeal; Rico also plans on supplanting the Big Boy. His rise to power unravels as fast as it happened, in an outburst of violence that drives him underground. But with an ego as big as his, Rico can't stay hidden for too long, and Flaherty is waiting for him.

The violence in Little Caesar may seem tame by today's standards -- although seeing a proper print of the movie, such as the 2005-issued DVD, does restore some of that impact -- but it was shocking at the time, and proved riveting and even seductive, especially because it was tied to a very charismatic performance by Robinson. Between his portrayal and the sounds of pistols and Thompson submachine guns, the movie was a sensory revelation and literalized the violence that had been suggested purely by visuals in such silent gangster classics as Josef Von Sternberg's Underworld (1927), itself yet another telling of a version of Capone's story. The language was also something newly coarse and bracing in movies, at a point when talkies were only a couple of years old. There's also a slightly homoerotic undertone to aspects of the character relationships that managed to get past the censors: Rico doesn't drink and seems uninterested in women; his fixation on Joe Massara, and his seeming competition for Massara's loyalty with the latter's fiancée, are couched in what seem like almost romantic terms; and his feeling of betrayal when Massara says he wants to leave the mob to get married seem almost more appropriate to someone caught in a romantic triangle. This is all made especially vivid when Rico laments not having killed Massara, admitting that he's been undone over "liking a guy too much." It's all nearly as striking as some of the more pointed psychological elements in subsequent gangster movies, including Tony Camonte's incestuous fixation on his own sister in Scarface (1932) and, at the far end of the cycle, Cody Jarrett's mother-fixation in White Heat (1949). ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

Mammy features Al Jolson as the star of a travelling minstrel show, appearing in a small Southern town. Jolson falls in love with an actress in the troupe (Lois Moran), but she loves another. One of Jolson's fellow minstrels (Lowell Sherman) is shot backstage, and it is assumed thanks to several plot convolutions that Jolson is guilty of the deed. He heads for the hills, but returns to the show, his reputation restored but his love for the actress unrequited. Maudlin in the extreme, Mammy is salvaged by several enjoyable songs by Irving Berlin and by its Technicolor photography (though most TV prints are black and white). The film's fascination with modern viewers rests with the presence of Al Jolson--and with the casual use of profanity during his confrontation scene with Lowell Sherman. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Helen Twelvetrees became a major star in this laundered version of the "naughty" Broadway play Frankie and Johnny. A singer in a Havana dive, Frankie is fought over by the proprietor, Johnny (Ricardo Cortez), and Dan O'Keefe (Phillips Holmes), an American sailor who sees some good in the girl. When Frankie decides to leave Havana with Dan, Johnny has his henchmen abduct the couple, but is himself accidentally killed in the ensuing melee. A successful combo, Twelvetrees and Cortez were reunited with director Tay Garnett for the gangster melodrama Bad Company (1931). ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

The comedy team of Bert Wheeler and Robert Woolsey made their fourth film appearance of 1930 in the hectic comedy-melodrama Hook Line and Sinker. This time the boys are cast as itinerant insurance salesmen Wilbur Boswell and J. Addington Ganzy ("Not Pansy -- Ganzy, with a 'G'"!) After talking their way out of a traffic ticket, Wilbur and Addington make the acquaintance of penniless socialite Mary Marsh (Dorothy Lee), who is fleeing a wealthy marriage arranged by her mother Rebecca (Jobyna Howland). Falling in love with Mary himself, Wilbur talks Ganzy into helping her renovate a seedy hotel willed to her by her uncle. With the dubious aid of a decrepit bellboy (George F. Marion) and a nutty house detective (Hugh Herbert), the boys turn the hotel into a thriving enterprise. The plot thickens when a gang of jewel thieves and a band of bootleggers register at the hotel, followed in short order by Mary's mother and the girl's prospective fiance, lawyer John Blackwell (Ralf Harolde) -- who happens to be in league with the bootleggers! A wild gangland shoot-out and nocturnal chase caps this dated but amusing Wheeler and Woolsey vehicle. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide