Cullen Landis Movies

A Midnight Adventure was a veritable compendium of murder-mystery cliches -- at least, that was the consensus of opinion of contemporary reviewers. A man is found murdered in his lavish country home. At least five of his many weekend guests had motive and opportunity, since the dead man was a particularly vicious blackmailer. Even the district attorney falls under suspicion as the investigation continues. Several more murders occur before the killer is revealed to be the detective on the case -- a last-minute "surprise" stolen from Crane Wilbur's theatrical chestnut The Bat. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Contrary to popular belief, no one speaks into microphones hidden in vases in this, the first 100% "all-talking" feature film, although an oversized telephone prop is rather conveniently placed near the actors in one long sequence. Although not nearly as crude as its tattered reputation, Lights of New York is far from thrilling, however. Not so much due to the later so maligned sound-on-disc Vitaphone system, but mainly because this was really a quickie B-Movie helmed by a first time director, Bryan Foy, who seems to have been little more than an inefficient traffic cop. Not that there is all that much traffic in this stage-bound melodrama about Eddie (Cullen Landis), a young kid from Upstate New York conned into fronting for a speakeasy on Broadway. There is the inevitable chorus-girl with a heart of gold (top-billed Helene Costello), the downtrodden floozy (Gladys Brockwell), and a cop-killing gangster boss, Hawk Miller (Wheeler Oakman), whom screenwriters Hugh Herbert and Murray Roth furnished with the film's one memorable line. With the cops closing in on him, Hawk needs a patsy. Planting contraband in poor Eddie's shop, the gang leader then instructs his henchmen to "take. . .him. . .for. . .a. . .ride!" Oakman speaks this much parodied line slowly and in a stentorian manner, lest the audience should fail to understand the grave implications. But Eddie escapes his "ride," and there is a final confrontation. Just as all hope seems lost, Hawk is killed by persons unknown. The murder weapon, however, belongs to the chorus girl and she is about to be arrested by no-nonsense Detective Crosby (Robert Elliott), when the real murderer -- the downtrodden floozy -- gives herself up. The performances in this historic talking picture run the gamut from inept (Costello, Landis) to over-the-top (Brockwell) to adequate (Oakman, comic sidekick Eugene Palette). Perhaps due to the newness of it all, the actors keep flubbing their line -- the poor Miss Costello being the worst offender, with Tom Dugan, a veteran supporting player, a close second. Why Warner Bros. should have chosen this pedestrian gangster melodrama as the first full-length talking picture remains a mystery. The best explanation is that the studio was merely testing the waters. Rather than a prestige project like the previous year's groundbreaking part-talkie The Jazz Singer, Lights of New York was produced for a paltry $23,000 and released not on a reserved-seat basis but in a mere grind house. But to everyone's surprise, the film went on to gross over a million dollars in its first run, proving once and for all that talkies had come to stay. Today, Lights of New York remains a museum piece but despite its tattered reputation, the gangster melodrama is really no worse than the majority of low-budget early talkies. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

The Devil's Skipper was based on Demetrios Contos, a seafaring yarn by Jack London. Effectively cast against type, Belle Bennett plays a wronged woman who becomes the most brutal and feared slave-ship captain on the Seven Seas. Though her crews constantly threaten to mutiny, "The Devil Skipper" (Bennett) is protected by her first officer Montague Love, who has carried a torch for her for nearly thirty years. Capturing an enemy ship, Bennett prepares to turn over pretty passenger Mary McAllister to her lustful crew -- only to discover that the helpless girl is Bennett's own daughter. Suddenly concerned only with McAllister's safety, Bennett lets down her guard long enough to be overtaken by her vengeful crew, leading to an operatic death scene. Gino Corrado, who later found his cinematic niche as Hollywood's favorite head waiter, appears in the opening scenes as Bennett's treacherous lover. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The "U.P." in the title refers to the Union Pacific railroad, the trail of which is followed by famed frontier scout Buffalo Bill Cody (here played by Roy Stewart). Hired to provide food for the railroad workers during the Union Pacific's Westward expansion, Buffalo Bill also prevents the employees from falling into the hands of hostile Indians. The plot is for the most part a fabrication, as witness the scene in which Buffalo Bill grows wealthy by building a prosperous "whistle stop" along the Union Pacific path. As pointed out by the trade magazine Variety, had Bill become a frontier burgomeister, he would never have had any reason to go on tour with his fabled Wild West Show. Oh, well...if the moviegoer wanted accuracy, he could always go to the library. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Finnegan's Ball was typical of the low-comedy ethnic shenanigans common to films of the 1920s. The warm relationship between the Finnegan family and the Flannigan clan gets warmer when Patrick Flannigan (Mack Swain) becomes Danny Finnegan's (Charles P. McHugh) boss. Things get ice cold, however, when Finnegan inherits a fortune and begins high-hatting his former employer. All is forgiven when the legacy turns out to be a phony. A subplot concerns the rocky romance between Molly Finnegan (Blanche Mehaffey) and Pat Flannigan Jr. (Cullen Landis). Finnegan's Ball was based on a play by George H. Emerick. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Greek-born producer Anthony Xydias was behind this inexpensive silent Western, the title of which is somewhat misleading. The legendary Buffalo Bill Cody (played here by Roy Stewart) was merely a supporting character to young Cullen Landis playing Gordon Kent, a young trail guide escorting a wagon train through hostile territory. The film was inevitably compared to The Covered Wagon (1923), which was extremely successful, but Xydias obviously did not have the money to create such an epic -- most films were shot only in the hinterlands. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Versatile silent-film leading lady Eva Novak goes the "Pearl White" route in Dixie Flyer. She plays a plucky female racecar driver who falls in love with a handsome railroad worker. The hero risks life and limb for the sake of the heroine -- and vice versa. The most exciting scene finds Novak at the wheel of an out-of-control roadster as its speeds headlong towards an open bridge. The story, which was actually a series of all-but-unrelated incidents, was the handiwork of H. H. Van Loan, a specialist in sports and action yarns of all kinds. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The Columbia "special" Sweet Rosie O'Grady was purportedly inspired by the ballad of the same name. Orphaned at birth, Rosie O'Grady (Shirley Mason) is raised jointly by kindly Jewish pawnbroker Ben Shapiro (E. Alyn Warren) and Irish beat cop James Brady (William Conklin). When wealthy Victor MacQuade (Cullen Landis) gets lost in the tenement district, he is rescued from a street fight by Rosie. Victor invites the girl to a rags-to-riches costume ball, where she wins first prize for her "costume" -- actually, her regular street clothes. Angry and humiliated, Rosie rushes back to her Uncle Ben's pawnshop, where she is comforted by Brady, who fortunately for the plot has become quite wealthy and is living in a luxurious mansion. Searching for the girl, Victor stumbles upon her at Brady's mansion and proposes to her on the spot. Still smarting from her experiences at the party, she refuses, whereupon her headstrong young swain forcibly elopes with her. Thinking that Rosie is being kidnapped, Brady hops into his roadster and gives chase. As a result, Rosie, Victor and Brady are all arrested by a rustic traffic cop -- who unexpectedly serves as plot resolver when it turns out that he's also the local justice of the peace. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Having just played a fireman in The Smoke-Eaters, Cullen Landis again finds himself surrounded by flames in Then Came the Woman. After an argument with his wealthy father, Landis heads to the tall timbers, hoping to make his fortune as a lumberjack. He makes fast friends with lumber-camp supervisor Frank Mayo, but the two men quickly have a falling out when Landis falls in love with Mayo's sweetheart Mildred Ryan. But when both Landis and Ryan are trapped in a raging forest fire, Mayo not only goes to the rescue but gallantly gives up Ryan to his younger rival. The last-reel conflagration was easily the most entertaining aspect of this hastily assembled programmer. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Dorothy Revier plays a woman who decides that all men are scum when her sister dies giving birth to an illegitimate child. Heading to New York, she becomes a Texas Guinan-style nightclub attraction, regarding and treating all males as "suckers." She is reformed, so to speak, by an altruistic young doctor (Cullen Landis). We last see the heroine in charge of a home for wayward girls, with the doctor lovingly at her side. An early effort from fledgling Columbia Pictures. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Orson Welles wasn't the first one to bring The Magnificent Ambersons to the screen. Vitagraph produced Booth Tarkington's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel during the silent era and slapped on the very 1920s title Pampered Youth. The Ambersons are the wealthiest family of a small Midwestern town. Isabel (Alice Calhoun), the daughter of Major Amberson (Emmett King), loves Eugene Morgan (Allan Forrest), but he disgraces himself in a drunken spree and leaves town. So Isabel marries Wilbur Minfer (Wallace McDonald), even though she doesn't really love him. She lavishes all her affection on her son, George (Ben Alexander), who, as a result, grows up into a spoiled young man (Cullen Landis). George's careless extravagance uses up the Amberson fortune. After Minfer dies, Morgan, now a successful automobile manufacturer, returns and takes up with Isabel once again. George resents the relationship and believes that Morgan is beneath him, even though he loves his daughter, Lucy (Charlotte Merriam). When Major Amberson dies, George is forced to go to work, and he learns to respect his fellow man. Morgan, meanwhile, saves Isabel when her home catches fire, thus cementing their romance. ~ Janiss Garza, Rovi