Fred Becker Movies

Leon Feuchtwangler's novel Jud Süss was originally about a powerful ghetto businessman who believes himself to be a Jew. Süss's ruthless business practices result in the betrayal of an innocent girl, for which he is arrested and sentenced to be hanged under the anti-Jewish laws of the 18th century. While he waits to be executed, Süss discovers he is not Jewish. Rather than turn his back on the people of the ghetto with whom he'd grown up, Süss courageously refuses to declare his "Aryan" status, even though it means he will die on the gallows. The Feuchtwangler book was designed in roundabout fashion to strike a blow against anti-Semitism. But when Jud Süss was filmed in Germany at the behest of Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels in 1940, its original message was twisted and perverted into an argument in favor of "ethnic cleansing." As played by Werner Krauss, Süss is not only genuinely Jewish, but also an amalgam of every vicious caricature ever concocted by the anti-Semitic propagandists of the past two centuries. With hooked nose and greasy beard, Krauss portrays Süss as a whining, wheedling, hand-wringing subhuman rapist; small wonder that Krauss was proclaimed an Actor of the State by the Nazis. The final scene of Jud Süss shows a screaming, protesting Süss being hanged in the public square; the scene is directed to cast Süss' tormenters in an utterly sympathetic light, and perhaps even to invoke cheers from an impressionable audience. Though disgusting beyond belief, Jud Süss should be seen at least once, if only to show what a dangerous weapon film can be in the hands of hate merchants. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Having scored big-time box office with his first Biblical epic, The Ten Commandments (1923), Cecil B. DeMille hoped to top this success with his 1927 The King of Kings. Inasmuch as he was now dealing with the life of Christ, DeMille had to be careful to serve up equal amounts of showmanship and reverence. The first creative challenge: how to "introduce" Christ in a tasteful manner? The answer: as a blind child is cured through Jesus' intervention, DeMille cuts to the child's point-of-view, slowly fading in on the kindly countenance of H.B. Warner as the Son of Man. Still, DeMille remained DeMille, especially in his handling of the character of Mary Magdalene (Jacqueline Logan). No longer a tattered streetwalker, Mary Magdalene is now a glamorous courtesan, replete with legions of gorgeous slave girls (one of whom is "bubble dancer" Sally Rand) and dressed in revealing Hollywood-style gowns. In fact, the film opens on this character, as she ruminates over the defection of her favorite customer, Judas Iscariot (Joseph Schildkraut), who is spending far too much time with Jesus of Nazareth. Upon visiting Jesus herself, she immediately repents, casting off all her prior sins. Once again, the efficacy of the Cecil B. DeMille formula is proven: redemption has no dramatic value unless the film shows viewers why the sinner needs to be redeemed. Once he's gotten his box-office considerations out of the way, DeMille adheres faithfully to the particulars of Jesus' life, betrayal, trial, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. (Again, however, the director improves a bit upon his source material: the storm that follows the Crucifixion is of the same spectacular dimensions as the parting of the Red Sea in Ten Commandments, while the Resurrection is filmed in vibrant Technicolor). To back up the authenticity of his images, DeMille -- with an assist from scenarist Jeannie Macpherson -- utilizes Scriptural quotes in his subtitles. And to avoid any untoward publicity while filming, DeMille required all of his actors to sign legal documents preventing them from indulging in any sort of "sinful" activity; this meant that poor old H.B. Warner had to steer clear of alcoholic beverages for nearly a year, though he more than made up for lost time after his contract ran out. Prepared to mercilessly lambaste The King of Kings, DeMille's critics were disarmed by his reverent, tasteful approach to the subject. Years after the film's release, a specially prepared 60-minute version of the 18-reel King of Kings was making the rounds of religious groups, church basements, and Easter-weekend telecasts. The film was remade in 1961 by producer Samuel Bronston and director Nicholas Ray, with Jeffrey Hunter as Jesus. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This jazzy comedy-drama was based on the Saturday Evening Post story by Grace Sartwell Mason. Wiletta Whipple (Pauline Garon) and her brother, Dick (Arthur Rankin), are a little on the wild side, and they believe their easy-going parents, Sam (William V. Mong) and Mary (Betty Blythe), are old fashioned. The parents take this accusation to heart and decide to spice up their lives with a snazzy new car, some stylish clothes, and a new attitude -- they make plans to drive across country. Since Wiletta leaves her rather slimy suitor behind, the way is clear for Nat Armstrong (Robert Ellis) to win her. Out west, the parents get involved in a gold mine swindle, but Nat, along with Wiletta and Dick, save them. Wiletta is kidnapped, and, after a mad car chase down a mountainside, she's rescued. In the end, both children and parents wisely decide to give up the jazz life. ~ Janiss Garza, Rovi

Both animal and human nostrils flare, and passion reigns in this classic romantic tragedy with Rudolph Valentino. Valentino is Juan Gallarde, an aspiring bullfighter, married to his loving childhood sweetheart Carmen (Lila Lee). But as his fame rises as a matador, so does his hot Spanish blood, and he succumbs to the passionate embraces of the sultry Doña Sol (Nita Naldi). When Juan is gored by a bull, his bullfighting fame is cut short, and Carmen returns to his side to nurse him back to health, and, as he struggles to regain his strength and make a comeback in the bullring, Carmen is there for him. At last he returns to the bullring, but in the stands, Juan sees Doña Sol with another lover. His attention distracted, a furious bull charges him and he is killed, dying in the arms of Carmen. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi