Pat Harmon Movies

Absent from films since 1938 (except as producer of a brace of RKO Radio features), silent-screen comedy favorite Harold Lloyd returned before the cameras in The Sin of Harold Diddlebock. The project began as a labor of love between Lloyd and the brilliant, innovative producer/writer/director Preston Sturges. Though these two comedy geniuses eventually had a stylistic falling out, resulting in an uneven, spasmodically dreary film, on the whole Harold Diddlebock is well worth having. Sturges cleverly opens the picture with the final reel of Lloyd's silent classic The Freshman(1925), in which the drudge of the college football team makes good and scores the winning touchdown. The story proper begins in the locker room, where football hero Harold Diddlebock (Lloyd, looking three decades younger than his 53 years) is impulsively offered a job by banker J.E. Wagglebury (Raymond Walburn). Taking his place at his new desk and festooning his walls with inspirational homilies, Harold starts to work, supremely confident that he's poised on the brink of bigger things. Twenty-three years pass: In 1946, a weary, stoop-shouldered Harold is still at the same desk at the same job, his dreams of success but a dim memory. Summarily fired by the pompous Wagglebury ("You have not only ceased to go forward, you have gone backward"), Harold collects his final paycheck, cleans out his desk, and bids farewell to office girl Miss Otis (Frances Ramsden), all of whose older sisters had previously been Harold's sweethearts. Wandering aimlessly on the street with his severance pay in hand, Harold is spotted by a dessicated street hustler named Wormy (Jimmy Conlin), who inveigles the newly fired clerk to join him at a nearby bar. Informed that Harold has never taken a drink in his life, the bartender (Edgar Kennedy) lights up and declares, "Sir, you rouse the artist in me!" With great ceremonial flourish, the bartender concocts a potent beverage called the Diddlebock. Harold takes one sip of the brew, lets out a yell, and immediately loses all the inhibitions that have kept him from advancing himself in the past two decades. With Wormy in tow, Harold goes on a wild spending and carousing spree, totally losing track of an entire day-and-a-half.

At the end of his revelry, the hung-over Harold is awakened by his sister (Margaret Hamilton), who informs him that he's bought a garish new wardrobe, a ten-gallon hat, and goodness knows what else. He soon finds out what else when he ventures into the street and is informed that he's bought a horse-drawn cab (with driver!) -- and a circus, complete with hungry lions. Quickly formulating a plan to get rid of the circus at a substantial profit, Harold decides to elicit bids from the town's various bankers, bringing Jackie the Lion along with him so that the bank guards won't stop him at the door. All of this leads to a wild recreation of Lloyd's skyscraper-teetering gags from his silent days, a noisy episode at the local jail, and a romantic tête-à-tête with Miss Otis, who reveals at the very end how Harold really spent his "missing" Wednesday! Though it tested well upon its first release, Sin of Harold Diddlebock was abruptly withdrawn from circulation by its co-producer Howard R. Hughes, who spent four years reediting and sometimes reshooting the film before finally releasing it through RKO as Mad Wednesday. Both this version and the original Sin of Harold Diddlebock still exist; while the earlier version is undeniably richer in comic invention and characterization, the shortened Mad Wednesday works better in front of an audience. Neither version completely fulfills the potential of its premise, however. Though not to be missed, this final Harold Lloyd vehicle pales in comparison with his vintage silent comedies. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Poverty Row company Stage and Screen was somewhat partial to Northwest Mounted melodramas, releasing three films in the genre in 1935. The Silent Code starred the tough-looking Kane Richmond as Jerry Hale, a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman transferred to a lonely outpost run by the greedy Peter Barkley (Barney Furey). When Barkley's brother-in-law, a prospector (Edward Coxen, is murdered over the claim to a valuable strike, the killer frames officer Hale. The murdered man's daughter, Helen (Blanche Mehaffey), initially believes the mountie to be guilty, but she is convinced otherwise by some tell-tale beads left on the body by the killer, Barkley's henchman Lobo (Carl Matthews). Nothing out of the ordinary, The Silent Code was at least more professionally assembled than Stage and Screen's two other Northwest thrillers of 1935: Timber Terrors and Courage of the North, both of which starred a non-entity named John Preston. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Harold Lloyd plays Ezekial Cobb, a missionary's son who has spent his entire life in China. Cobb is sent to his father's home church in California, where it is hoped he will find a wife. A true babe in the woods, Cobb is befriended by politician Jake Mayo (George Barbier). Mayo is a cog in a crooked political machine whose bosses plan to set up a "reform" candidate for mayor, so that they can continue their underhanded activities unmolested. The candidate drops dead, so Mayo sets up the innocent Cobb as the mayor-to-be--a "cat's paw" to deflect attention from the system's corruption. But once elected, Cobb takes his duties quite seriously and begins to clean up the town. The machine frames Cobb with planted evidence of wrongdoing, destroying the lad's political career. Undaunted, Cobb remembers the story of an ancient Chinese leader, who, similarly disgraced, took the law in his own hands and executed all known criminals in his last days of power. Cobb orders that every crook in town be rounded up and brought to a dark cellar. He insists that they confess their crimes or face instant death--and backs up his words by "beheading" two of the crooks on the spot! Actually, these executions are cleverly designed magical illusions, and no one is really killed; but the terrified criminals are so hoodwinked by Cobb's apparent cold-bloodedness that they literally climb over one another to confess. Cobb is exonerated, and honesty is restored to his administration. While not Harold Lloyd's best feature film, The Cat's Paw is definitely his most unorthodox. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Tom Mix once again goes up against corrupt Fred Kohler in this would-be epic Western filmed on-location at Kanab, UT. Retiring from a life of train robbing, Benjamin R. Jones (Kohler) takes over the ghost town of Stillwell, knowing full well that the property belongs to Molly O'Rourke (Margaret Lindsay). Enter horse wrangler Tom Mason (Mix), who smells a rat and does his best to unmask Jones as the crook he knows him to be. Molly at first falls for Jones' scheme, but confronts him when a general feeling of lawlessness sets in. The villain, alas, has an ace up his sleeve: Molly owes back taxes on her property, which is ripe for a takeover. The Fourth Horseman was the fifth of nine Westerns Tom Mix would make for Universal from 1932-1933 before an on-the-set accident basically ended his career as a series Western star. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Top-billed Bela Lugosi has only a minor role in this routine variant on the Old Dark House scenario, playing a mysterious Indian mystic who is but one of numerous eccentric characters lingering about in an eerie mansion, stalked by an unseen murderer. Other potential victims/suspects include a reporter, a pair of exotic house servants, a fetching heroine, even an extra psychopath thrown in as a red herring. The real killer is eventually discovered and destroyed but, in an inventive and chilling twist, comes back to life to speak directly to the audience in the film's surprise coda -- the only real moment of interest in this otherwise humdrum who-done-it. Also known as He Lived to Kill. ~ Cavett Binion, Rovi

This little cheapie tries to pass itself off as a contemporary actioner, but at heart it's still a western. An old prospector strikes gold on the dude ranch owned by John Elliot, only to be promptly murdered by the villains. Despite several entreaties, Elliot refuses to sell his property, so the bad guys set out to sabotage a rodeo being staged on the ranch. Sensing that something's amiss, Elliot's business manager Glenn Tryon alerts the local constabulary, though he himself settles the heavies' hash with his fists. As a result, Tryon wins the hand of the owner's daughter, Virginia Brown Faire. Margaret Mann, best known for her portrayals of "Grandma" in the Our Gang comedies, essays a similar role in The Secret Menace. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Ten cents a dance, that's what they pay her -- "her" being downtrodden taxi dancer Barbara (Barbara Stanwyck). The only thing Barbara sells is her time, or at least that's the story she gives her jellyfish husband Eddie (Monroe Owsley). But when wealthy Carlton (Ricardo Cortez) starts making goo-goo eyes at Barbara, Eddie accuses his wife of infidelity. This, in Eddie's mind, provides him with an adequate excuse to steal money from Carlton, which action leads to the no-good husband's downfall. Barbara's fate is more merciful: she ends up with Carlton, with whom she has fallen in love. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Few films outside of Let's Go Native could boast a cast as diverse as Jack Oakie, Jeanette MacDonald and Kay Francis -- all under the direction of Leo McCarey. A variation of the "Admirable Crichton" theme, the story concerns a group of highly incompatible people, all stranded on a tropical island. Among the castaways are Brooklyn cabbie Voltaire McGinniss (Oakie), socialite Joan Wood (MacDonald), Joan's reluctant fiance Wally Wendell (James Hall), and good-time girl Constance Cooke (Kay Francis). The local natives prove to be surprisingly sophisticated, thanks to the influence of a song-and-dance man (Skeets Gallegher) who'd been shipwrecked sometime earlier. Using costumes that she's bought for a show she hopes to produce, the enterprising Joan buys the oil-rich island from the natives, only to have it sink into the sea after an earthquake. By this time, however, everyone has fallen in love with everyone else, so there's smiles all around when the rescue party arrives. Nothing makes much sense in Let's Go Native, but the film scores points on sheer energy and good spirits. As a bonus, director Leo McCarey harks back to his Laurel & Hardy days by incorporating a tit-for-tat "reciprocal destruction" routine. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The first all-talking "Our Gang" comedy, Small Talk was also one of the few series entries to run three reels rather than the customary two. A sentimental effort, the film details the trials of tribulations of two orphans -- played by Mary Ann Jackson and Bobby "Wheezer" Hutchins -- when one of them is adopted by a wealthy matron (Helen Jerome Eddy). Though Wheezer is showered with toys, fancy clothes and other luxuries, he remains lonesome for his sister Mary Ann. The two kids are reunited when Mary Ann, together with the rest of her orphan pals, pay an unanounced visit to Wheezer's new digs. After laying waste to the mansion and accidentally summoning the cops, the youngsters are rescued from a return trip to the orphanage when a group of rich ladies agrees to adopt all of them immediately. Though exhibiting the customary clumsiness of early sound films, Small Talk also contains several surprisingly sophisticated "talkie" gags, including an opening bit involving various makeshift musical instruments. Originally released on May 18, 1929, the film was not included in the "Little Rascals" package released to television in the early 1950s because no decent picture and sound material then existed. Small Talk was restored for the home-movie market by Blackhawk Films in 1974, and released on video and DVD in the 1990s. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

A love triangle between two twin brothers and a lovely young woman provides the framework for this drama (it was the first talkie to feature an actor in a dual role). One of the brothers is a policeman; the other belongs to a band of robbers working the garment district. The cop has orders to shoot the robbers on sight. He warns his evil twin to stay away from the garment district. The twin tells him to stay out of there too. They ignore each other's advice. More trouble ensues when the bad brother abducts the other, steals his uniform, and then gets himself killed. He does this to save his other brother who gets the girl. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Sal of Singapore contains only two reels' worth of dialogue, but it was enough to prove that Phyllis Haver's decision to retire from films in 1929 was a wise one. Haver plays the title character, a saloon habitue who catches the eye of burly Captain Ericcson (Alan Hale). Invited on board Ericcson's boat, Sal assumes it's business as usual, but she's wrong: A baby has been left in the Captain's care, and Sal has been "elected" to care for the infant. Her latent maternal instincts aroused, Sal of Singapore metamorphoses into a model of respectability. Viewers with long memories quickly recognized Sal of Singapore as a remake of the Richard Barthelmess vehicle Scarlet Seas. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

For a humble "B" picture, The Broken Mask was able to assemble an impressive cast. Cullen Landis stars as an Argentine dancer who is unable to find work because of his horribly scarred face. While seeking out employment in New Orleans, Landis is reaquainted with another Argentine, popular dancing star Barbara Bedford. She arranges for the hero to undergo plastic surgery, and when he emerges from the bandages, he is almost as good-looking as she is. Landis and Bedford form a professional partnership, which eventually blossoms into a romance. But the plastic surgeon who performed the operation is also crazy about Bedford; thus, the doctor inveigles Landis into another operation, during which he intends to slash up the poor boy's face all over again. But Landis catches on to the doc's scheme and angrily administers some "surgery" of his own with the help of an Argentine cattle-whip. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Based on a story by Elmer Harris, the above-average Columbia production Court Martial was set during the Civil War. Carrying secret orders from President Abraham Lincoln, Northern secret agent Jack Holt heads below the Mason-Dixon line in hopes of capturing gorgeous Confederate spy Betty Compson. Disguised as a "rebel," Holt is able to join Compson's band of guerilla raiders. He falls in love with the girl and saves her from death at every turn. She in turn saves him from her vengeful comrades when his true identity is revealed. For failing to turn Compson over to the Northern authorities as originally planned, Holt is court-martialed and sentenced to be shot, but Compson, in the tradition of Cigarette in Under Two Flags, sacrifices her own life to save the hero from execution. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi