Theresa Harris Movies

Every time Republic Pictures head honcho Herbert J. Yates starred his minimally talented wife Vera Ralston in a film, the studio's stockholders began trembling in their boots. Like most of its predecessors, the 1957 Ralston vehicle Spoilers of the Forest just barely made back its cost. Vera plays Joan Milna, who shares several thousand acres of valuable Montana timberland with her stepfather (John Alderson). Coveting Joan's property, lumber baron Eric Warren (Ray Collins) sends out his foreman Boyd Caldwell (Rod Cameron) to persuade her to sell. Instead, Caldwell falls in love with the girl, vowing to protect her trees from the eco-unfriendly Warren. Republic's wide-screen Naturama process is shown to good advantage throughout Spoilers of the Forest. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Like so many other films that were once considered "lewd" and "scandalous", The French Line seems as harmless as Pollyanna when seen today. Essentially a remake of The Richest Girl in the World, the film stars Jane Russell as Mary Carson, an incredibly wealthy Texas oil heiress. Lucky in investments but unlucky in love, poor Mary can never keep a fiance: either they're fortune-hunters or they don't want to marry anyone so rich and powerful. Thus, while on an ocean voyage to France, Mary poses as the model of dress designer Annie Farrell (Mary McCarthy), hoping to attract a man who is interested in her for herself, and not her millions. That man turns out to be dashing stage star Pierre (Gilbert Roland), but there's many comic complications and misunderstandings before the happy ending. What shocked the censors in 1954 was Jane Russell's sizzling musical number "Lookin' for Trouble", in which she performed an uninhibited bump-and-grind while wearing nothing more than a seven-ounce glorified bikini. While Ms. Russell herself was offended by her skimpy costume, she saw nothing wrong with the dance itself, pointing out that she intended it as a parody of a "burleycue" number. The professional blue-noses disagreed, however: the film was condemned by the Catholic Legion of Decency and denied a Production Code Seal. Eventually, producer Howard Hughes got the Seal--along with a million dollars' worth of free publicity, which is what he intended all along. Filmed in 3D, The French Line is the film that was ballyhooed with the classically tasteless ad campaign "J.R. in 3D--It'll knock both your eyes out!" ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The real Al Jennings was a wizened little man who, after a largely unsuccessful career as a western outlaw, reformed to the extent of hitting the lecture circuit and even producing his own films. Jennings was still alive when Columbia's Al Jennings of Oklahoma was produced in 1951, so one can assume that he approved of the radical changes made in his life story and the casting of the better-looking Dan Duryea in the lead. The story begins with Al and his brother Frank (Dick Foran) trying to go straight, even though there's a $25,000 reward on their heads. Al's hopes for connubial bliss with Margo St. Clare (Gale Storm), who loves him despite his reputation, is shattered by the vengeful machinations of a railroad detective. Forced back into a life of crime, Jennings is captured and sentenced to life imprisonment--a sentence that, of course, was eventually modified. Al Jennings of Oklahoma is not one of the classic westerns, but it manages to hold one's attention throughout a plenitude of plot twists. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Esther Williams and Red Skelton share equal screen time for once in the MGM Technicolor musical Neptune's Daughter. The title character is, of course, Williams, here cast as Eve Barrett, a bathing-suit manufacturer (and sometimes model). Skelton plays Jack Spratt, the masseur at a fancy polo club, who falls for Eve's sister (Betty Garrett). To prove worthy of her love, Jack poses as dashing Latin polo star Jose O'Rourke (Ricardo Montalban), resulting in a wealth of comic complications. The slapstick setpieces include a hilarious horse-mounting routine and a climactic set-to between Skelton and petty crook Mike Mazurki; there's also a few inspired moments from Mel Blanc, cast as a slow-talking Mexican. While Xavier Cugat is on hand as "himself," the film's musical high point is the Oscar-winning Baby It's Cold Outside, performed first by Williams and Montalban and then by Skelton and Garrett. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

John Farrow's movie adaptation of Kenneth Fearing's The Big Clock, based on a screenplay by Jonathan Latimer (and produced by future James Bond screenwriter Richard Maibaum), is a near-perfect match for the book, telling in generally superb visual style a tale set against the backdrop of upscale 1940s New York and offering an early (but accurate) depiction of the modern media industry. Told in the back-to-front fashion typical of film noir, it opens with George Stroud (Ray Milland) trapped, his life in danger, his survival measured in the minute-by-minute movements of the huge central clock of the office building where he's hiding. In flashback we learn that Stroud works for media baron Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton), loosely based on Henry Luce, as the editor of Crimeways magazine. Janoth is a manipulative, self-centered megalomaniac with various obsessions, including clocks; among other manifestations of the latter fixation, the skyscraper housing his empire's headquarters has as one of its central features a huge clock that reads out the time around the world down to the second.

Twenty-four hours earlier, on the eve of a combined honeymoon/vacation with his wife, Georgia (Maureen O'Sullivan), that has been put off for seven years, Stroud was ordered by Janoth to cancel the trip in order to work on a special project, and he resigned. As the narrative picks up speed, in his depression, Stroud misses the train his wife is on and crosses paths with Pauline York (Rita Johnson), a former model for Janoth's Styleways magazine, who is also Janoth's very unhappy mistress, and the two commiserate by getting drunk together in a night on the town. While hurriedly leaving Pauline's apartment, he glimpses Janoth entering. Janoth and York quarrel, and the publisher kills her in a jealous rage, using a sundial that she and Stroud picked up the night before while wandering around in their revels. Janoth and his general manager, Steve Hagen (George Macready), contrive to pin the murder on the man that Janoth glimpsed leaving York's apartment, whom he thinks was named Jefferson Randolph -- the name Stroud was drunkenly bandying about the night before. He gets Stroud back to Crimeways to lead the magazine's investigators in hunting down "Jefferson Randolph," never realizing that this was Stroud. And Stroud has no choice but to return, desperately trying to gather evidence against Janoth and, in turn, prevent the clues gathered by the Crimeways staff from leading back to him. The two play this clever, disjointed game of cat-and-mouse, Janoth and Hagen planting evidence that will hang "Randolph" (and justify his being shot while trying to escape), while Stroud, knowing what they don't about how close the man they seek to destroy is, arranges to obscure those clues and, in a comical twist, sends the least capable reporters and investigators to follow up on the most substantial clues.

Janoth sometimes seems to be unraveling at the frustrating pace and lack of conclusion to the hunt, but Stroud can't escape the inevitable, or the moments of weakness caused by fear and his own guilt over his near-unfaithfulness to his wife or the inscrutable gaze of Janoth's mute bodyguard Bill Womack (Harry Morgan), a stone-cold killer dedicated to protecting his employer. The trail of proof and guilt winds ever tighter around both men, taking some odd twists courtesy of the eccentric artist (Elsa Lanchester) who has seen the suspect. Milland is perfect in the role of the hapless Stroud, and Laughton is brilliant as the vain, self-centered Janoth, but George Macready is equally good as Hagen, his smooth, upper-crust Waspy smarminess making one's skin crawl. Also worth noting is Harry Morgan's sinister, silent performance as Womack, and sharp-eyed viewers will also recognize such performers as Douglas Spencer, Noel Neill (especially memorable as a tart-tongued elevator operator), Margaret Field (Sally's mother), Ruth Roman, and Lane Chandler in small roles. Additionally, the Janoth Publications building where most of the action takes place is almost a cast member in itself, an art deco wonder, especially the room housing the clock mechanism and the lobby and vestibules, all loosely inspired by such structures as the Empire State Building and the real-life Daily News headquarters on East 42nd Street. This film was later remade as No Way Out. ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

Out of the Past is so perfect a film noir that it is considered practically a textbook example of the genre. In his first starring role (it had previously been offered to John Garfield and Dick Powell), Robert Mitchum plays Jeff Bailey, the friendly but secretive proprietor of a mountain-village gas station. As Jeff's worshipful deaf-mute attendant (Dick Moore) looks on in curious fascination, an unsavory character named Joe (Paul Valentine) pulls up to the station, obviously looking for the owner. Jeff is all too aware of Joe's identity; he's been dreading this moment for quite some time, knowing full well that it will mean the end of his semi-idyllic existence, not to mention his engagement to local girl Ann (Virginia Huston). In a lengthy flashback, the audience is apprised of the reasons behind Jeff's discomfort. Several years earlier, he'd been a private detective, hired by gangster Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas) to find his mistress Kathie Moffett (Jane Greer), who shot him and ran off with $40,000. Jeff traces Kathie to Mexico, but when he meets her he falls in love and willingly becomes involved in an increasingly complicated web of double-crosses, blackmail, and murder. The flashback over, Jeff agrees to meet Whit face to face in Lake Tahoe. Surprisingly, Whit apparently bears no malice, and even offers Jeff an opportunity to square himself by retrieving Whit's tax records from mob attorney Eels (Ken Niles). Even more surprisingly, Kathie has returned to Whit on her own volition. When Jeff is taken to Eels' apartment by the beautiful Meta Carson (Rhonda Fleming), he quickly figures out that he has been set up and tries to clue Eels into the plot, but Eels is later found murdered, and Jeff is accused of the crime. Worse yet, Whit has forced Kathie to sign an affadavit that also pins another murder on him. Crosses, double-crosses and triple-crosses abound for the next few reels, culminating in disaster for the oh-so-clever Whit, who has fatally underestimated the deceitful (and icewater-veined) Kathie. And in the end, it is Jeff who must resort to drastic measures to force Kathie to pay the price for her cold-hearted treachery. Out of the Past was remade in 1984 as Against All Odds, with Jane Greer cast as the mother of her original character. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

20th Century-Fox pulled its script for Three Blind Mice out of mothballs once more for Three Little Girls in Blue. June Haver, Vera-Ellen and Vivian Blaine are the blue-clad trio, searching for wealthy husband in Atlantic City in 1905. As in all other versions of this Stephan Powys story, two of the girls latch onto handsome young men who aren't as rich as they appear to be, while the third young lady falls for a seemingly nerdish chap who turns out to be rolling in dough. The menfolk in this yarn are handsome George Montgomery, handsome Frank Latimore, and nonhandsome Charles Smith. Taking its cue from the 1941 edition of this story (Moon Over Miami), Three Little Girls in Blue is a musical, with singing from Vivian Blaine and June Haver and dancing from Vera-Ellen. The story was good for yet another go-round in 1953: How to Marry a Millionaire. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The Dolly Sisters is the heavily Hollywoodized biopic of Jennie and Rosie Dolly, Hungarian-born entertainers who took Broadway by storm in the early 1900s. Betty Grable plays Jennie and June Haver plays Rosie; their uncle is the inevitable "funny foreigner" S.Z. Sakall, who manages their career from childhood. Passing an important audition for Oscar Hammerstein, the Dolly girls become international stage headliners, but in so doing they find that their private life is strained. Jennie in particular is perplexed by the dilemma of devoting herself to a career while still finding time to romance handsome composer John Payne. The Dolly girls are separated permanently when Rosie is fatally injured in an auto accident, but Jennie finds lasting happiness with her composer. Despite the pre-World War I ambience of the film, both Grable and Haver show off a lot more skin than would have been permissible in earlier times. But Dolly Sisters producer George Jessel knew what he was doing, and the Technicolor film was a major hit in 1945. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Ann Miller goes through her usual twinkle-toed paces in the quickie Columbia musical What's Buzzin', Cousin? The pencil-thin plotline involves attorney Jimmie Ross (John Hubbard), who moonlights as a singer with the Freddie Martin Orchestra. Using his legal and showbiz know-how, Jimmie revitalizes a broken-down hotel owned by Ann Crawford (Ann Miller) and her family. Musical highlights include Freddie Martin's swing rendition of Liszt's second Hungarian Rhapsody, and Ann Miller's terpsichorial interpretation of the bond-rally standard "18.75." Were it not for the presence of Miller and Martin, What's Buzzin' Cousin? would be utterly forgettable. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

In this crime drama, an ambitious law student begins working for a corrupt finance company and becomes the neighborhood pennypincher. He is romantically interested in a wealthy young woman, but unfortunately, he is being pursued by a neighborhood girl. His company assigns him to repossess the girl's father's taxi cab. The law student's friends try to dissuade him from this path. They eventually succeed, and the fellow turns the company in to the authorities. Mayhem ensues, but in the end, he wins the wealthy woman's heart and goes on to found a credit union for his former neighbors. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

Dumped by wife Ellen Drew, musician Melvyn Douglas goes into a creative slump. His gloom is lifted when he falls in love with Ruth Hussey (with a little help from Hussey's foxy papa Charles Coburn). Soaring to hitherto unimaginable heights of fame after marrying Hussey, Douglas suddenly becomes attractive again to the scheming Drew. She attempts to win him back by pretending to be crippled and confined to a wheelchair. Though Hussey sees through the ruse, she is unable to prove anything until Drew trips herself up. Watch for the clever (and most satisfying) application of the "THE END" title in Our Wife. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Santa Fe Trail, Errol Flynn's third western, has precisely nothing to do with the titular trail. Instead, the film is a simplistic retelling of the John Brown legend, with Raymond Massey playing the famed abolitionist. The events leading up to the bloody confrontation between Brown and the US Army at Harper's Ferry, Virginia, are treated in a painstakingly even-handed fashion: Brown's desire to free the slaves is "right" but his methods are "wrong." Whenever the leading characters are asked about their own feelings towards slavery, the response is along the noncommittal lines of "A lot of people are asking those questions," "I don't have the answer to that," and so forth. Before we get to the meat of the story, we are treated to a great deal of byplay between West Point graduates Jeb Stuart (Flynn) and George Armstrong Custer (Ronald Reagan), who carry on a friendly rivalry over the affections of one Kit Carson Halliday (Olivia DeHavilland). Just so we know that the picture is meant to be a follow-up to Warners' Dodge City and Virginia City, Flynn is saddled with Alan Hale and "Big Boy" Williams, his comic sidekicks from those earlier films. Despite its muddled point of view, Santa Fe Trail is often breathtaking entertainment, excitingly staged by director Michael Curtiz. The film's public domain status has made Santa Fe Trail one of the most easily accessible of Errol Flynn's Warner Bros. vehicles. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Love Thy Neighbor was produced to capitalize on the famous radio feud between comedians Jack Benny and Fred Allen. The two stars (actually friends in real life) play "themselves," constantly at each other's throats due to real and imagined slights. Benny complicates matters by falling in love with Allen's niece, played by Mary Martin. The battling comics briefly patch up their differences when Benny rescues Allen from an out of control motorboat, but the truce doesn't last long. The final scene takes place during a musical revue starring Benny, which Allen tries to break up with a slingshot. The Benny-Allen feud was already old news by the time of Love Thy Neighbor, and the film is merely an uninspired attenuation of a threadbare premise. The result is a letdown for fans of both Jack Benny and Fred Allen--though there are a handful of genuinely funny one-liners, as well as adroit supporting contributions from Mary Martin and Eddie "Rochester" Anderson. The best scene in Love Thy Neighbor is the animated opening-credits sequence, produced by Warner Bros.' "Looney Tunes" mentor Leon Schlesinger. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide