Tom McGuire 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, All Movie Guide

It took nerve for writer/director Preston Sturges to lampoon the whole concept of hero worship in the middle of World War II, but once more Sturges' oddball sense of taste and propriety paid off at the box office in Hail the Conquering Hero. Eddie Bracken plays the son of a World War I Marine hero who is the first in his small town to sign up for military service. When Bracken is discharged from the Marines for hay fever, he hasn't the nerve to go home and tell his mother and the rest of the townsfolk. Fortunately, he is befriended by a bunch of good-hearted Marines, led by sergeant William Demarest. Bracken's new buddies decide to help him save face by accompanying him to his home and telling one and all that Bracken has served valiantly in the Pacific. Lauded as a hero thanks to this subterfuge, the hapless Bracken finds himself being coerced into running for mayor! When he finally does confess the truth, the townspeople decide that only a real hero would own up to his lies in public. As always, Preston Sturges' richly varied supporting cast makes the most of every scene they're in, especially Raymond Walburn as a blustering politico and Franklin Pangborn as a persnickety councilman. Special mention must be made of Ella Raines as a refreshingly non-cliched heroine, and ex-boxer Freddie Steele as a morose Marine with a Mother complex. While Eddie Bracken's nerdish mannerisms can wear on the viewer, he is kept marvelously in check throughout Hail the Conquering Hero. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Tala Birell, one of the more talented of the Garbo wannabes of the 1930s, stars in the Universal quickie She's Dangerous. The star is cast as Stephanie, a glamorous private detective who's been hired to track down a gang of bond thieves. She charms her way into the confidence of gang leader Nick Shelton (Cesar Romero), knowing full well that the outwardly gracious Shelton won't hesitate to kill her if she's found out. Eventually, Stephanie proves too smart for her own good, and it's up to sidelines hero Dr. Logan (Walter Pidgeon) to bail her out. She's Dangerous bears a marked resemblance to 20th Century-Fox's 15 Maiden Lane, which also featured Cesar Romero as a charming-but-deadly crook. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The MGM historical "spectacular" San Francisco was allegedly based on a three-sentence synopsis, submitted verbally to producer B.F. Zeidman by studio troubleshooter Bob Hopkins. The story begins on the Barbary Coast on New Year's Eve, 1906, as rakish but likeable political boss Blackie Norton (Clark Gable) hires demure young singer Mary Blake (Jeanette MacDonald) to perform at his rowdy Paradise gambling house. Local priest Father Mullin (Spencer Tracy), Blackie's best friend, disapproves of the exploitation of the lovely Mary, feeling that she's suited for classier surroundings. Jack Hurley (Jack Holt), Nob Hill socialite and Blackie's political rival, agrees with Father Mullin and offers the girl the opportunity to sing with the San Francisco Opera. Blackie, who's fallen in love with Mary but won't admit it to himself, jealously holds on to her contract, forcing Mary to walk out on him. For the rest of the film, Mary is torn between the "respectable" lifestyle offered her by Hurley and the baser creature comforts provided by Blackie. It looks for a while that Hurley has won out, but fate takes a hand in the form of the devastating San Francisco Earthquake of April 18, 1906 (a special effects tour de force for art directors Arnold Gillespie and his uncredited associate James Basevi). Hurley is killed in the holocaust, while Blackie, desperately searching for Mary in the rubble, at long last finds religion and prays to God for his sweetheart's salvation. At the end, an unidentified bit player shouts defiantly "We'll build a new San Francisco!" -- and by golly, they do! The Hollywood censors were not so much bothered by the sexual subtext of San Francisco or its harrowing earthquake finale as they were by a scene in which Father Mullin is knocked down by an unrepentant Blackie. To "purify" this potentially blasphemous sequence, screenwriter Anita Loos quickly added an earlier scene in which Mullin and Blackie, both dressed in turtleneck sweaters, genially duke it out at an exercise gym, whereupon the priest cold-cocks Blackie with the greatest of ease. By establishing that Mullin could have punched out Blackie, but chooses not to in the controversial later scene, not only allows that scene to pass, but also strengthened the priest's character. San Francisco proved to be one of MGM's biggest hits, remaining in almost constant reissue for the next three decades. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Written by the prolific Ben Hecht, Upper World is a clash-of-class melodrama set in New York City. Railroad tycoon Alexander Stream (Warren William) is neglected by his social-climbing wife Mary Astor. Quite unintentionally, through a chance encounter, he strikes up a reasonably chaste friendship with good-hearted showgirl Lilly Linder (Ginger Rogers). Lilly's ex-boyfriend Lou Colima (J. Carroll Naish) sees an opportunity to blackmail Stream; Lilly tries to block him from doing so, and is murdered for her troubles. Stream shoots Colima in self-defense and manages to cover up his involvement so that the crime scene looks like a murder-suicide, protecting his good name and marriage in the process. But a vitriolic cop (Sidney Toler), whom Stream had earlier gotten demoted over a traffic stop -- and who was on patrol in the vicinity of the crime -- involves himself in the case and gathers enough evidence to point the detectives and the press toward the wary tycoon. Though he must stand trial for Colima's death, Stream is supported in his ordeal by his suddenly attentive and affectionate wife.
~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

"I'm the finest woman who walked the streets," declares bejeweled, hip-swishing Lady Lou (Mae West) at the beginning of She Done Him Wrong. Lou works as a singer at the Gay Nineties saloon of Gus Jordan (Noah Beery Sr.), who plies her with diamonds to keep her by his side. She runs afoul of stalwart mission captain Cummings (Cary Grant), who warns her that she's on the road to perdition. Mae West's first starring film, She Done Him Wrong literally saved Paramount Pictures from bankruptcy. It would remain the best of her feature films, most of which were severely watered down by the Production Code (whose renewed stringency of 1933 was brought about in great part by West herself). She Done Him Wrong was based on West's own stage play, Diamond Lil, which ran on Broadway for 97 weeks. West sings "Frankie and Johnny," "I Like a Man Who Takes His Time," and ""I Wonder Where My Easy Rider's Gone."" ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The descriptive phrase "melting pot" is elucidated in the sentimental drama Hearts of Humanity. Jean Hersholt stars as a golden-hearted Jewish pawnbroker whose daughter Caludia Dell falls in love with Irish-Catholic policeman Charles Delaney. When another Irish cop is killed by a burglar, Hersholt adopts the dead man's son Jackie Searl (here taking a break from his usual "nasty kid" roles). Jackie repays the favor by proving to be more loyal and upright than even Hersholt's own son (George Humbert). Evidently, the film was supposed to end with the young Searl's death; his miraculous recovery would seem to indicate that the preview audiences had something to say about the film's denouement. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Director F.W. Murnau began City Girl as a silent film, hoping to match the artistic triumph of his earlier Sunrise. Murnau was frustrated by two elements: Fox's decision to hastily convert the film into a talkie, and his inability to secure the services of Sunrise star Janet Gaynor. The director was forced by the studio to substitute the pretty but untalented Mary Duncan, reportedly because she was the girlfriend of one of the Fox executives. The resulting film is a plodding drama about farmer's son Charles Farrell coming to the Big City, where he falls in love with Duncan, bringing her home to meet the folks. Farrell's dad David Torrence predicts that Duncan will be unfaithful, a prophecy which apparently comes true on a dark and stormy night. Based on Elliot Lester's play The Mud Turtle, City Girl has a fascinating image or two to its credit, but the film is a distressingly ordinary effort for the otherwise imaginative F.W. Murnau. The 1938 20th Century-Fox film City Girl is not a remake. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

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, All Movie Guide

Baseball great George Herman "Babe" Ruth's second starring film (the first was 1920's Headin' Home) was the amiable romantic comedy The Babe Comes Home. Babe Ruth plays Babe Dugan, home run whiz of the Los Angeles Angels (a minor-league team in 1927). Babe's habit of chewing tobacco makes him the bane of the Snow White Laundry, which has to clean his juice-stained uniforms after every game. Laundress Vernie (Anna Q. Nilsson) attends an Angels game to see for herself just how one man can be so messy. Babe hits a fly ball, which hits Vernie in the eye. From this bad start, a romance develops, culminating in an engagement. On the eve of the wedding, Babe and Vernie have a rhubarb over his tobacco habit. She walks out, and Babe goes into a slump. But during a crucial game (bases loaded in the ninth, natch!) Vernie shows up in the stands and tosses Babe a flesh plug of tobacco. He stuffs the wad in his mouth and hits the deciding homer. Conceding that it was Vernie's love and not the "chew" that inspired him to win, Babe swears off tobacco forever. The ball-playing scenes in The Babe Comes Home were filmed at Los Angeles' Wrigley Field, which would become a popular location site for future Hollywood baseball flicks. Based on a magazine story by Wid Gunning, The Babe Comes Home was a success with both movie and baseball fans alike (never mind such inaccuracies as showing the catchers wearing their wedding rings), but it's likely that it had no bigger fan than Babe Ruth himself, who later confessed to having sat through the 6-reeler ten times. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

My Own Pal takes Tom Mix out of his customary western surroundings and plunks him in the middle of New York City. Joining a travelling rodeo, Tom O'Hara (Mix) and his beloved pinto Fritz are whisked off to the Big Apple, where he takes up residence in a theatrical boardinghouse. Here he renews his acquaintance with Alice Derring (Olive Borden), whose honor he had previously defended on the eastbound train. It so happens that Alice is the daughter of a New York police chief, thus she's able to enter Tom and Fritz in an upcoming police riding tournament, leading to a job on the force as a mounted officer. In this capacity, our hero captures a fleeing jewel thief by lassoing the miscreant's motorcycle. Barely pausing for breath, Tom spends the final reel rescuing Alice from her kidnappers. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Universal luminary Herbert Rawlinson, whose star was on the wane by 1924, has the lead in this rather predictable murder mystery. Although Sheldon Polk (Rawlinson) is only a bank cashier, his extravagant ways reveal that his father is the man who owns the bank. Frank Farnsworth (Hayden Stevenson) wants to borrow 25,000 dollars from the senior Polk, and offers a 100,000-dollar necklace as security. Sheldon is given the task of taking the funds to Farnsworth, but he is robbed along the way. Meanwhile, his father is murdered and the necklace disappears. Because of circumstantial evidence, Sheldon is sent to prison, but he manages to break free (via a dirigible), and sets out to prove his innocence. It's an easy task to figure out that the real culprit is Farnsworth, who had put together the whole operation. Ruth Dwyer -- who is best known as Buster Keaton's leading lady in Seven Chances -- plays Sheldon's main squeeze, a girl by the name of Sunny Day. ~ Janiss Garza, All Movie Guide