Hattie McDaniel Movies

This made-for-cable documentary traces the filming of the imperishable classic Gone with the Wind, from its inception to its triumphant Atlanta premiere in December of 1939. Filmmaker David Hinton interviews as many survivors of the experience as he's able to round up, but the main attraction of this film is its precious "test" clips. We watch a montage of screen tests of the many actresses considered for the role of Scarlett O'Hara, ranging from such front-runners as Paulette Goddard to such not-a-chancers as Lana Turner. The Goddard footage is particularly enjoyable as we watch her eagerly reciting the lines of all the characters as she auditions for Scarlett. The documentary also turns up several tantalizing bits of trivia, notably the fact that the film was shown to a preview audience with an entirely different musical score (portions of which are played on the soundtrack). There is, of course, very little suspense involved in Making of a Legend, but even those who've heard all the Gone With the Wind factoids from other sources will watch in fascination as the saga unfolds. This documentary was produced by David Selznick's sons, and written by iconoclastic movie historian David Thomson. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The much loved housekeeper--played first by Ethel Waters and then by Louise Beavers--from the early '50s TV show features a few domestic adventures in this collection of episodes. ~ Kristie Hassen, Rovi

Not a remake of the 1917 Mabel Normand vehicle of the same name, Mickey was based on Clementine, a novel by Peggy Goodin. The tomboyish title character is played by redheaded Lois Butler, whom Eagle-Lion Studios was trying to build into a major name. During her awkward transition to womanhood, Mickey Kelly takes time out to find an eligible wife for her widowed father George (Bill Goodwyn). Of the two likeliest candidates, bitchy Lydia Matthews (Rose Hobart) seems to have the inside track, but Mickey vastly prefers down-to-earth Louise Williams (Irene Hervey). The best performance is delivered by Skippy Homeier as Hank Evans, the boy who awakens Mickey's own amorous yearnings. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Carlotta Duval (Vera Ralston) is willing to help her boyfriend George McAllister (John Carroll) get his hands on his ailing brother Barry's (Robert Paige) fortune. She is willing to marry Barry, knowing full well that he has only been given a few months to live. And when she deviates from the scheme by falling in love with Barry, she is willing to nurse her husband back to health, despite what George has to say about it. But is George willing to prevent slimy blackmailer Ernie Hicks (Broderick Crawford) from destroying Carlotta and Barry's newfound happiness? In terms of both budget and histrionic level, The Flame is one of the most lavish of Republic Pictures' late-1940s productions. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Nostalgic and sweet, this tuneful comedy centers on a mother's reminiscence of her wild time as a 1920s teenage flapper. Margie is first seen fully grown telling her stories to her own teenage daughter. Back then, Margie was a typical adolescent, crazy about boys (especially those in raccoon coats) and an expert on the day's fashions. Margie was quite the cat's meow back then and found herself pursued by a handsome young man. Unfortuantely for him, Margie and the other girls only have eyes for the dashing new French teacher. Though busy vying for the teacher's affections, the teens still have time to perform many of the 1920's most popular songs. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Song of the South is a blend of live action and animation, based on the popular "Uncle Remus" stories of Joel Chandler Harris. Set in the years just after the Civil War, the story begins with young Johnny (Bobby Driscoll) being sent to live at the southern plantation of his grandmother (Lucile Watson) while his parents contemplate divorce. At first disconsolate, the boy is cheered up by African-American handyman Uncle Remus (James Baskett), who tells him many delightful fables concerning the clever trickster Br'er Rabbit, whose adventures are illustrated in cartoon form. Each story has a moral, which Johnny applies to the exigencies of his real life. Johnny's mother (Ruth Warrick) disapproves of Uncle Remus, and orders the boy never to visit the kindly old black man again. Uncle Remus packs his bags and leaves; while chasing after him, Johnny is injured by a bull. He recovers thanks to the friendly presence of Uncle Remus, and all is forgiven. The film was awarded the Best Song Oscar for "Zip-a-dee Doo Dah," and James Baskett won a special Oscar for his portrayal of Uncle Remus. Disney has withheld the movie in the U.S. ever since its last theatrical re-release in 1986, due to controversy over what some (including the NAACP) argue is a sugar-coated depiction of the Reconstruction-era South. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Part of the series of Universal B-musicals teaming Martha O'Driscoll and Noah Beery Jr., this film is also a remake of the 1937 comedy Love in a Bungalow. Patty Callahan (O'Driscoll) offers residence in a model home to soldier Jeff (Beery) and soon falls in love with him. Although the pair are unmarried, they enter a marital contest intended to celebrate the "Happiest G.I. Couple." Winning the contest brings on all sorts of farcical troubles until the couple are able to be united for real. Songs include "Don't Sweetheart Me" and "Best of All." ~ Nicole Gagne, Rovi

Janie, adapted from the Broadway play by Josephine Bentham and Herschel Williams, was one of a 1940s cycle of stage-to-film comedies about teenagers. Joyce Reynolds stars as Janie, a typical teen whose life is turned topsy turvy by the installation of a military base near her home town. Edward Arnold and Ann Harding, exasperated and understanding respectively, play Janie's parents. Robert Hutton is the soldier and Richard Erdman the hometown boy who vie for Janie's attentions. The film is cloying at times, but survives as a reasonably accurate representation of teenage life in the war years, right down to the "coded slang" used to throw parents off the track. Janie ends with the Army marching out and the Marines marching in, leaving the door wide open for a sequel, which appeared in 1946 under the title Janie Gets Married. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Practically everybody on the Warner Bros. lot shows up in the wartime morale-boosting musical extravaganza Thank Your Lucky Stars. Believe it or not, this one has a wisp of a plot. A pair of enterprising producers, played by S.Z. Sakall and Edward Everett Horton, want to hire singer Dinah Shore for their upcoming Cavalcade of Stars. Unfortunately, this means they must deal with Shore's boss, radio comedian Eddie Cantor. The egotistical Cantor insists upon joining the show himself, driving everyone crazy with his take-charge attitude. Meanwhile, singer Dennis Morgan, hoodwinked by a crooked agent into thinking he's signed a contract with Cantor, shows up backstage at Sakall and Horton's rehearsal, only to be given the boot. While all this is going on, aspiring actress Joan Leslie has befriended a bus driver named Joe Simpson--who happens to be a dead ringer for Eddie Cantor (and why not? Ol' "Banjo Eyes" plays both parts). Turns out that Joe is another showbiz wannabe, but he has been denied a break because he looks too much like Cantor. You see what's comin' now, right, folks? Morgan and Leslie will get their big breaks when Joe Simpson impersonates Eddie Cantor, who's been kidnapped by Indians (bet you didn't see that one coming!) All of this expository nonsense is merely an excuse to show off Warners' talent roster in a series of engaging specialty numbers: John Garfield talk-sings Blues in the Night, Jack Carson and Alan Hale do a buck-and-wing, a jitterbug number is performed by Ida Lupino, Olivia de Havilland and George Tobias, Hattie McDaniel and Willie Best strut their stuff in Ice Cold Katie, and so on. Highlights include Errol Flynn's That's What You Jolly Well Get, an English music hall-style sendup of Flynn's movie heroics, and Bette Davis' peerless (and endearingly off-key) rendition of They're Either too Young or Too Old. As a bonus, Humphrey Bogart shows up long enough to be browbeaten and intimidated by S.Z. Sakall ("Gee, I hope none of my movie fans see this!" moans Bogart as the soundtrack plays a mocking rendition of Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?) Subtle and sophisticated it isn't, but Thank Your Lucky Stars is so entertaining that you'll forget all about its multitude of flaws. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In This Our Life is not a "for the ages" classic of the Golden Age of Cinema, but as a highly effective and entertaining melodrama, it more than fits the bill. Howard Koch's screenplay is a trifle predictable, but it's well structured and provides the requisite juicy roles for its pair of female stars. It also provides a number of little surprises -- a sympathetic and (for the time) non-stereotypical portrayal of a black character and two characters living not only in sin but adulterously so -- that give it some distinction. The script's main drawback is its initial lack of focus; it doesn't seem to quite know exactly what its story is and where the real conflict will lie. Ultimately, this doesn't really matter, for John Huston knows where it's going, and he shepherds the story along very efficiently, throwing in a little social commentary here, heightening the atmosphere there, tossing in a hint of the unsavory elsewhere. Although he doesn't really know what to do with the male actors (save for Charles Coburn and Frank Craven, each of whom is just right in entirely different ways), he handles the women in exactly the right way, including Billie Burke as the coddling, neurotic mother. It's Bette Davis, of course, who gets the showiest role, and she sinks her teeth into it and plays it for all it's worth. It's a great Davis performance, but she's still outdone by Olivia de Havilland, whose quiet, understated work anchors the film and ultimately makes the greater impression. It's terribly fine film acting, and immensely satisfying. ~ Craig Butler, Rovi

Affectionately Yours offers the spectacle of glamorous Merle Oberon and gorgeous Rita Hayworth jockeying for the best camera positions, virtually pushing male leads Dennis Morgan and Ralph Bellamy right off the screen! Here's the deal: Neglected wife Sue Marberry (Oberon) obtains a quickie Nevada divorce from her globetrotting war-correspondent husband Rick (Morgan). Still in love with Sue, Rick rushes home to win her back, but by now she has found solace in the arms of her new fiancee Owen Wright (Bellamy). To arouse Sue's jealousy, Rick pretends to carry on an affair with female journalist Irene Malcolm (Hayworth), a scheme that backfires when Irene decides she wants Rick for keeps. Of interest is the supporting-cast presence of Hattie McDaniel and Butterfly McQueen, two years away from their domestic duties in Gone with the Wind. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Though history is distorted almost beyond recognition in Warner Bros.' They Died With Their Boots On, audiences in 1941 ate it up like cotton candy. In the gospel according to Warners, General George Armstrong Custer (Errol Flynn) is neither an arrogant fool nor a rabid Indian hater. Instead, he is a flamboyant but brilliant cavalry officer, who during the Civil War defies his superiors' orders and becomes a hero as a result. After a period of forced retirement in the postwar years, Custer is put in charge of the 7th Cavalry in the Dakota Territory. Here he whips this ragtag group into spit-and-polish shape, and also does his best to extend a neighborly hand to the local Indian tribes. Custer even goes so far as to promise Chief Crazy Horse (Anthony Quinn) that the white man will never set foot in the sacred Black Hills. Alas, Custer is betrayed by greedy gold prospectors, whipped into a frenzy by scheming (and fictional) land speculator Ned Sharp (Arthur Kennedy). Forced by circumstances to do battle against Crazy Horse to prevent tribal retaliation, Custer and his command ride towards a rendezvous with destiny at the Little Big Horn on June 25, 1876. Though some of the historical inaccuracies in the film are real howlers, blame cannot be laid solely at the feet of Warner Bros.; the Custer legend had previously been perpetrated by the general's loyal widow Elizabeth Bacon (played herein by Olivia de Havilland), then eagerly elaborated upon by Eastern news journalists and dime novels. This film represented the final screen pairing of Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland, a fact that lends poignancy to their classic parting scene. Though an extremely long film, They Died With Their Boots On is never dull, especially during the spectacular Custer's Last Stand finale. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi