John George Movies

In the historical epic The Conqueror, John Wayne stars as Temujin, better known as Genghis Khan. Red-haired Susan Hayward costars as Bortai, the Tartar princess whom Temujin claims as the spoils of battle. Eventually, Bortai's hatred for her captor metamorphoses into love, while Temujin's hordes lay claim to the entire Gobi Desert. Director Dick Powell, many of the actors (John Wayne, Susan Hayward, Pedro Armendariz, Thomas Gomez, Agnes Moorehead), and several of the crew members later fell victim to cancer, allegedly the result of producer Howard Hughes' decision to lens the film on location near the atomic testing grounds in the Utah desert. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

William Powell plays a cynical con man who graduates from penny-ante operations to a big-time charity racket. The scam involves collecting money on behalf of St. Dismas, bringing Powell in close contact with several men of the cloth. As the racket rolls on, Powell is touched by the sincerity of the religious men and the plights of the charity's rightful recipients. He has a change of heart, confessing his original criminal intentions but seeing to it that the money goes to the right people. Hoodlum Saint was typical of the facile religiosity often found in MGM pictures of the period. The film is best remembered as the first non-aquatic performance of MGM swimming star Esther Williams. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

One of the most successful filmed biographies of the 1940s, A Song to Remember alleges to be the true story of Polish composer Frederick Chopin. Actually, it has about as much relation to truth as a Heckle and Jeckle cartoon, but with such gorgeous creatures as Cornel Wilde and Merle Oberon in the leads, who cared? Though Wilde, as Chopin, is the nominal lead, top billing goes to Paul Muni, hamming his way through the role of Chopin's mentor Professor Joseph Elsner. Reportedly, Muni developed his characterization long before shooting started, refusing to allow the performances of the other actors to alter his interpretation in the slightest. This may explain why Muni seems to be acting in a vacuum, frequently completely out of rhythm with the film and its characters. Otherwise, Cornel Wilde does a nice job as the tempestuous Chopin, whose patriotic fervency frequently takes priority over his music. Merle Oberon plays novelist George Sand, who despite her preference for male clothing proves to be "all woman" during her torrid, decade-long affair with Chopin. The film's money scene--the one that everyone talked about, keeping the picture "alive" long after its original release--occurs towards the end, when the tubercular Chopin begins hemorrhaging as he performs his Polonaise for the first time (Jose Iturbi is heard on the soundtrack, "doubling" for Wilde's ivory-tickling). Sumptuously photographed in Technicolor by Tony Gaudio and Allen M. Davey, A Song to Remember was the usually penurious Columbia Pictures' top production of 1945. Fifteen years later, the studio hoped to make lightning strike twice with its Franz Liszt biopic Song Without End, but the magic just wasn't there. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

If I Were King is a delightful costume adventure tale set in 14th century France, during the reign of Louis XI, and inspired by the legend of the rebel poet François Villon, whose exploits were filmed earlier as The Beloved Rogue (1927) with John Barrymore, and later transformed into the musical The Vagabond King on Broadway and onscreen. The movie opens with Paris surrounded by the forces of the Duke of Burgundy, whose armies have laid siege to the city in hopes of starving out King Louis XI (Basil Rathbone, in a riveting performance), a wily, cruel monarch who distrusts all around him -- mostly, however, Burgundy has succeeded in forcing Louis to hunker down and in starving the common people of Paris, whose well-being their king can't be bothered about.

The one man in Paris with the courage to raise a hand to ease the suffering is François Villon (Ronald Colman), a gifted poet and glib orator who understands the common people far better than Louis. We first meet him leading a raid on the king's storehouse for sorely needed food and wine. Pursued by the king's guards, he accidentally crosses paths with Louis himself -- trying to uncover a nest of traitors -- at a tavern, and is captured. Louis would normally have Villon put to death without a second thought, but the rebel poet has done him the service of killing a treasonous officer, and has also piqued the king's interest with his notion of inspiring loyalty rather than fear in his subjects. The king also wishes to show Villon that it isn't always easy, even with all of the power of the crown on one's side, to rule a kingdom, or even the capitol city of a kingdom. Louis appoints Villon to the post of Constable of France, in command of all military and police authorities, and nominally in charge of the army, and leaves it to him to do his job -- with the provision that, at the end of a week in so powerful a position, Villon will, indeed, hang. Villon does a very good job of dispensing justice in a way that makes his followers love the king, and even turns one traitor into a loyalist. He is less successful at getting the titled nobility on his side, or the generals to rally their armies for the task at hand, breaking the siege, and is further distracted from his task by his romantic entanglements, with Ellen Drew as the girl of the streets who loves Villon and Frances Dee as the lady-in-waiting to the queen who has stolen his heart.

Director Frank Lloyd uses the same sure hand that propelled his Oscar-nominated Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) to weave together the telling of this lusty and witty tale (from a clever screenplay by Preston Sturges, who added his own translations of Villon's poetry to the original script); but the real interest for most viewers will reside with the sparks that fly from the performances of Colman and Rathbone as the two equally matched antagonists, each toying with the other's perceived weaknesses (especially their vanity) while, in his way, secretly admiring elements of the other's character. In the end, Sturges' script cleverly interweaves their common interests, Villon realizing that he must save Paris in order to keep from losing his head. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

On New Year's Eve, aspiring actress Julia Wayne (Joan Bennett) and chronic gambler Larry Stevens (Joel McCrea), both flat broke, each find one-half of a $1000 banknote. They decide to invest their windfall in a race horse and jockey, in hopes of financing a theatrical career for Julia and a new start in life for Larry. Unfortunately, the thousand-dollar note turns out to be stolen, dropped in haste during a bank robbery. This gets hero, heroine and horse mixed up with the crooks, and for a while it looks as though the nag won't show up for the climactic Big Race. Even after the horse arrives at the starting gate, he refuses to gallop until he spies the cart that he used to haul around for coal peddler Jonesy (Andy Clyde). After a great opening, Two in a Crowd runs out of gas, but the two stars are always worth watching. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Carnival barker Spencer Tracy befriends elderly concessionaire Henry B. Walthall, who owns a picturesque but stodgy display depicting Dante's Inferno. Walthall is more interested in the spiritual aspects of Man's fascination with Hell, but Tracy uses hoopla and exaggeration to get the suckers into the Inferno. His interest isn't altruistic; Tracy is enamored of Walthall's niece, Claire Trevor. Through his publicity savvy, Tracy builds the Inferno into a major attraction, complete with full orchestra and scantily clad "devil girls". He also buys up the rest of the carnival, using cold-blooded tactics that result in the suicide of a fellow concessionaire. Within five years, Tracy is a millionaire tycoon of the Entertainment industry. While loved by his wife (Trevor) and son (Scotty Beckett), Tracy conducts his business ruthlessly, bribing a city official to look the other way regarding structural defects in his Inferno display. When this duplicity results in a disastrous accident at the exhibit, the bribed official kills himself. Tracy is exonerated thanks to legal chicanery, but his wife is fed up; she walks out on him, taking their son along. Injured in the accident, Inferno creator H. B. Walthall warns Tracy of the pitfalls of success, using an illustrated edition of Dante to make his point. For nearly ten minutes, the movie audience is treated to a lavish depiction of Hell, magnificently photographed by Rudolph Mate. When the plot resumes, Tracy is on hand for his latest venture, a sumptuous gambling ship. Thanks to the drunken negligence of the crew, the ship catches fire, and it is only upon learning that his son has sneaked aboard that Tracy realizes the consequences of his greed. Tracy labors heroically to rescue the passengers--and, incidentally, to atone for his past sins. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

As much a horror film as a murder mystery, Charlie Chan in Egypt is one of the best entries in the "Chan" series. The story is motivated by a King Tut-like curse, which has apparently befallen the members of an archeological expedition. Charlie Chan (Warner Oland) is brought into the case when a French museum wants to find out how several valuable Egyptian artifacts, originally slated for museum exhibition, have ended up for sale to the highest bidder. Arriving in Egypt, Chan must first figure out the modus operandi for two murders in which neither a weapon nor a wound was found. The solution to the killings involves a certain musical pitch played on a violin (a familiar mystery-movie device of the period). Though the screenwriters do a good job concealing the identity of the villain, Fox Studio's typecasting policy tends to give away that identity somewhat ahead of schedule. Prominent among the supporting players is black comedian Stepin Fetchit, whose stereotyped routines may offend the sensibilities of modern viewers. Originally released at 72 minutes, Charlie Chan in Egypt is currently available only in its choppy, shortened reissue version. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

March of the Wooden Soldiers is the 1952 reissue title for Hal Roach's 1934 film version of Victor Herbert's Babes in Toyland. Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy star as Stannie Dum and Ollie Dee, bumbling apprentices to the master toymaker of Toyland. This joyous fairy-tale community is populated by all the colorful Mother Goose characters we know and love; the one sour apple in the barrel is mean old Silas Barnaby (portrayed by Henry Kleinbach, aka Henry Brandon). Barnaby holds the mortgage on the outsized shoe where Widow Peep (Florence Roberts) and her daughter Little Bo Peep (Charlotte Henry) reside, and where Stannie and Ollie pay room and board. Bo Peep will be forced to marry the odious Barnaby if the rent isn't paid, so Stannie and Ollie try to raise the money by asking the toymaker for a raise. But the boys are fired when Stannie messes up an order from Santa Claus: instead of making six hundred toy soldiers one foot high, the dumb Mr. Dum makes one hundred toy soldiers six feet high. The wedding between Barnaby and Bo Peep goes on as planned--except that it's Stannie, disguised as the bride, who ends up walking down the altar. Publicly humiliated, Barnaby vows revenge. He steals one of the Three Little Pigs and places the blame on Bo Peep's boy friend, Tom-Tom the Piper's Son (Felix Knight). The penalty for pignapping is banishment to Bogeyland, a fearsome subterranean world populated by hideous bogeymen (look closely and you'll see the zippers on their costumes!) Stannie and Ollie expose Barnaby's perfidy and rescue Tom-Tom from Bogeyland, whereupon Barnaby rallies the bogeymen and leads an all-out attack on Toyland. Taking refuge in the toy warehouse, Stannie and Ollie activate the 100 6-foot wooden soldiers (a neat bit of stop-motion photography, courtesy of Hal Roach's "fx" wizard Roy Seawright), who vanquish the Bogeymen and save the day. One of the best of all the Laurel and Hardy features, March of the Wooden Soldiers has been a television holiday perennial ever since the cathode tube was invented. Only a handful of Victor Herbert's songs are utilized, but these lilting compositions more than compensate for the omissions (one song, "I Can't Do That Sum", is used as the leitmotif for the clueless Stannie and Ollie). For years available only in the 70-minute reissue version, March of the Wooden Soldiers has recently been fully restored to its full glorious 78 minutes. The parent property Babes in Toyland was remade by Disney in 1961 (with Gene Sheldon and Henry Calvin as Laurel and Hardy wannabes) and for television in 1986, with new songs by Leslie Bricusse. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In his second talkie, former silent screen lover John Gilbert plays Jack, a sailor in the merchant marine who takes time out from carousing with pals Tripod (Wallace Beery) and Ginger (Jim Tully) to woo and marry Joan (Leila Hyams), the lovely pay clerk, whom he has promised to quit the sea for good. But "for good" lasts only through the wedding night and she leaves him. They meet again on an ocean liner where Jack is working as the quartermaster but a violent storm threatens to ruin the relationship for eternity when Jack is declared lost. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

The Big City was perhaps the most "normal" of the Lon Chaney-Tod Browning collaborations. Minus makeup, Chaney plays gangster boss Chuck Collins, who despite his ruthlessness is a basically decent fellow. Collins is plagued by a rival gang, led by deceptively boyish Curly (James Murray), who has been stealing jewelry from the rich and famous. Our "hero" tricks the other crooks into turning the gems over to him, intending to use them for his own profit (he throws the cops off track by hiding jewels in a plate of spaghetti!) But sweet heroine Sunshine (Marceline Day) eventually persuades Collins and his cohorts to turn honest. Betty Compson, who'd co-starred with Chaney in his breakthrough picture The Miracle Man, provides romantic contrast as Collins' hard-bitten gun moll. Director Browning had hoped to capture the "flavor" of Manhattan night life by hiring entertainer Sophie Tucker for a guest spot, but negotiations fell apart when Tucker demanded an impossibly high sum for her services. As it turned out, Chaney's star-power enabled Big City to score a box-office success to the tune of $387,000 in profits. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Based on a story by 17th-century Spanish playwright Calderon de la Barca, A Night of Love is based on the ancient (and historically suspect) tradition of droit du seigneur. Ronald Colman stars as gypsy prince Montero, whose wedding night is rudely interrupted by the despotic Duke de la Garda (Montague Love). Exercising his prerogative as a titled landowner, the Duke abducts Montero's young bride and "has his way" with her. The poor girl dies from the disgrace, whereupon the hot-blooded Montero swears revenge. So it is that during the Duke's subsequent wedding party, in rides Montero to kidnap the new duchess, Princess Maria (Vilma Banky). Though fully intending to rape Maria in the same manner that his bride was violated, Montero is too honorable to take advantage of his lovely captive. Accordingly, Maria slowly falls in love with her handsome abductor, leading to a magnificently melodramatic climax as the heroine pleads for the hero's life when the Duke sentences Montero to burn at the stake. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Having nothing whatever to do with the Rudyard Kipling poem, The Road to Mandalay is a typically bizarre collaboration between star Lon Chaney Sr. and director Tod Browning. Chaney plays Singapore Joe, the one-eyed proprietor of a Mandalay bordello. Joe's convent-bred daughter Rosemary (Lois Moran) is totally ignorant of her father's existence and of course knows nothing of the manner in which her education was financed. When the girl falls in love with Admiral Edward Harrington (Owen Moore), Joe recognizes the admiral as one of his old partners in crime and vows to save Rosemary from ruining her life. But Harrington has totally reformed, and it is he who ultimately rids the world of Singapore Joe. Even in 1926, critics recognized the Oedipal subtext in Road to Mandalay. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi