Wheeler Oakman Movies

A frequent visitor to contemporary TV cable services, Monogram's Mutiny in the Big House affords stalwart supporting player Charles Bickford top billing as a prison chaplain, with jailhouse-flick veteran Barton MacLane billed second as a hardened con. The nominal hero, however, is fourth-billed Dennis Moore, sent "up the river" for forging a check. Bickford tries to save Moore's soul, while MacLane attempts to toughen up the "new fish" and involve him in a breakout scheme. Though this is the prison picture that is parodied in the like-titled Lenny Bruce comedy routine, Mr. Bruce took considerable liberties with the source material (including recasting the leads!) The film was produced by actor Grant Withers, who at one time was married to Loretta Young, and based on a story by Martin Mooney, a journalist who'd spent a few months "in stir" himself; credited for the script was Robert D. Andrews, best known for dreaming up the premise for the 1932 all-star anthology If I Had a Million. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Torture Ship is a strange amalgam of crime thriller and horror chiller that can't quite make up its mind what it wants to be. Irving Pichel plays Dr. Herbert Stander, a well-meaning physician who becomes a little too much the single-minded visionary. Convinced that criminality is a result of a glandular condition, he assembles an array of escaped convicts -- from small-time grifters to murderers and psychopaths who have nothing to lose (or so they think) -- and takes them out to sea. The doctor begins performing nasty operations and other (usually lethal) experiments on them. The ship's captain (Lyle Talbot) allows this to go on, believing in the doctor's better nature. The criminals know what's going on, but between the doctor's own strong-arm men and the unwillingness of the crew to intervene, they're not able to protect themselves. It's only when Talbot's character gets a first-hand glimpse of the doctor's work that he raises a hand against him, ordering the crew, working in tandem with the wanted men and women, to take control of the ship from the doctor, who is destroyed by his own intended victims. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

In the rough-and-tumble world of post-Civil War Texas, ex-Confederate soldier Kirk Jordan (Randolph Scott) crosses paths with ranch owner Ivy Preston (Joan Bennett). Although a loyal Southerner, Jordan can't get past the waste and tragedy of the four years that have just ended, but Ivy is eager to help keep the war for the Confederacy alive, running guns to her would-be lover, unrepentant ex-Confederate captain Alan Sanford (Robert Cummings), who is prepared to ally himself with the Mexican emperor Maximilian as a means of starting a new war against the "Yankee" government. Ivy is attracted to Jordan after he boldly helps her evade an army checkpoint, until she finds out how relatively peaceable he is. Jordan and his sidekick, Cal Tuttle (Raymond Hatton), are prepared to make a cattle drive to the new railhead at Abilene and sell at a handsome profit, but Ivy wants nothing to do with the United States or Yankee money, even as her more practically minded grandmother (May Robson) and her foreman, Chuckawalla (Walter Brennan), try to convince her otherwise. Only when Isaiah Middlebrack (Robert H. Barrat), the corrupt local administrator for the occupying Northern government, arrives announcing a head-tax on cattle does she change her mind and begin to see some worth in Jordan's ambition and boldness. Two deaths, of Middlebrack and a much-loved ranch hand, allow the ranchers and the occupying soldiers to reconcile and make the drive together to the border. Jordan and his outfit find a stricken, desperate Abilene, bereft of anything to be shipped on the new rail line. Jordan's arrival accomplishes everything he hopes for and more, and in the end Ivy sees and also glories in his vision, of a United States reunited and restored, growing and thriving as never before. But Jordan can't abide her continued affection for Alan, whose continued obsession with restoring the Confederacy is wearing on him and almost everyone else by now, and he plans on leaving. Ivy doesn't want to see that happen, but is torn over her lingering affection for Alan. But then she learns that he is planning to join a new organization, the Ku Klux Klan, intended to drive the Yankees out of the South, and she suddenly has to choose with which of these men her future lies. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

Code of the Rangers was one of four Monogram westerns of the 1937-38 season starring the venerable Tim McCoy. In this one, Texas Ranger Tim Strong (McCoy) tries his best to straigthen out his hotheaded brother Jack (Rex Lease). Things don't work out, and before long Tim is protecting Jack from a bank-robbery charge. Taking the blame for the theft, our hero is exonerated only by a last-minute confession from his wayward sibling. There's lots of fisticuffs and gunplay in Code of the Rangers, enabling viewers to forget the film's threadbare production values and banal plotline. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

A police raid on a roadhouse leads to a war on vice that results in the downfall of a vicious gangster and the sadistic madam who runs his prostitution ring in this sordid crime drama from director Elmer Clifton. While she may be beautiful on the outside, on the inside Belle Harris (Florence Dudley) is a hateful monster who relishes the opportunity to turn innocent young girls into money-grubbing prostitutes as she oversees the day-to-day duties at the Berrywood Roadhouse. Though Belle may be a cold corrupter, her physically abusive boss, Jim Murray (Wheeler Oakman), is even worse. As the police close in on Murray's lawless syndicate and his empire comes crumbling down, the truth comes out for all to see when the city reporters descend upon the hapless women he has so callously enslaved. ~ Jason Buchanan, Rovi

Bank Alarm was one of four low-budget but high-entertainment crime melodramas starring Conrad Nagel and Eleanor Hunt as Federal agents Alan O'Connor and Bobbie Reynolds. On this occasion, the two G-people are on the trail of a gang of desperate bank robbers. Making their job slightly easier is the fact that the crooks are leaving behind a trail of counterfeit money. Unfortunately, they're also leaving a trail of corpses, meaning that Alan and Bobbie had better get a move on before someone else gets bumped off. Bank Alarm was the last of the Nagel-Hunt crime series, all of which were produced by the financially canny George A. Hirliman. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

What would an "exploitation" film of the 1930s be without Wheeler Oakman in the cast and Sam Newfield in the director's chair? In Crusade Against Rackets, Oakman is his usual slimy self as Jim Murray, the head of a big-city vice ring. His "cover" is an outwardly respectable beauty parlor, where the girls perform services far above and beyond the call of duty. Innocent manicurist Dona (Lona Andre) is targeted as the ring's latest victim, and boy, does she suffer at the hands of Murray and his confederates. Much of the action takes place in a nightclub, featuring several genuine (and hilariously superfluous) cabaret acts. Among the more grotesque supporting villains is "Good Looking Freddie" (Matty Roubert), who is anything but. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Like most of Kermit Maynard's "northerns" for Ambassador Films, Timber War is ostensibly based on a story by James Oliver Curwood. Maynard is cast as Jim Dolan, a two-fisted young man forced by circumstance to impersonate weak-willed playboy Larry Keene (Lawrence Gray), scion of a powerful lumber family. In this guise, Dolan saves Keene's relatives from the sinister machinations of timber-baron Murdock (Wheeler Oakman). Along the way, he also rehabilitates the wastrelly Keene, who proves to have more backbone than previously suspected. Most of the lumberjack sequences in Timber War were lifted from stock footage, but the thrilling climax is all "new," and all Kermit Maynard. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

An airborne serial killer terrorizes a group of war veterans in this ultra-cheap but fairly engrossing whodunit produced by one of Hollywood's few women executives, Fanchon Royer. Assigned to investigate a series of flight disasters committed by a phantom aircraft bearing only the legend "X," veteran test pilot Jerry Blackwood (John Carroll) learns from Dr. Norris (John Elliott) that the killer in all likelihood is a veteran of the last war suffering from "battle neurosis." Jerry gathers a group of fellow veterans at the plant operated by aircraft manufacturer Henry Goering (Henry Hall), an assembly consisting of Baron Von Guttard (John Peters) of the German Luftwaffe, the French pilot René LaRue (Gaston Glass), the British Captain Saunders (Pat Somerset), and American Douglas Thompson (Wheeler Oakman), late of the famous Lafayette Escadrille. Also present is the mysterious Lieutenant Ives (Reed Howes) and Carl (Leon Kent), Goering's son, who seems to know a great deal about Von Guttard. The German, however, is the first to die during an airborne patrol, closely followed by LaRue. Saunders, meanwhile, seems to come completely unhinged and remains the obvious suspect when Dr. Norris is found murdered. The real "Pilot X," however, is someone completely different, as Jerry and Goering's ward, Helen Gage (Lona Andre), learn the hard way. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

A cowboy turned G-Man looks into a series of mysterious plane crashes in this low-budget but fairly engrossing B-Western starring Tim McCoy. Masquerading as an outlaw, Tim Caverly manages to infiltrate a gang of mail thieves holed up in a ghost town. As Tim discovers, the gang leaders, Dawson (Walter Miller) and Kincaid (Wheeler Oakman), have kidnapped Professor Brent (Lloyd Ingraham), whose electrical ray gun is used to shoot down the planes. Also arriving at the hideout is Natalie (Claudia Dell), the professor's pretty daughter, who warns her father that women and children were among the victims of the latest crash. Although Dawson is suspecting Tim to be a G-Man, the villain orders Brent to shoot down an incoming government plane. There is an exchange of gunfire between Dawson and Tim, and Brent is shot attempting to shut off the ray gun. The professor survives, however, and the villains are apprehended. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

In his second of an unprecedented 131 Westerns for Columbia Pictures, handsome Charles Starrett donned his trademark white Stetson to portray Ranny Maitland, a Texas Ranger whose father (Lafe Mckee) is feuding with his neighbor, Lockhart (Edward Le Saint. Pretending to be on Lockhart's side in the feud, Ranny goes to investigate. Old man Maitland, meanwhile, is murdered and Lockhart arrested. Evidence found in Maitland's safe points to ranch foremen Brophy (Wheeler Oakman and Gilman (Dick Botiller), foremen of the respective ranches, as the culprits but the documents also incriminates Lockhart's son Lafe (Charles Locher). Believing Lafe to be innocent, Ranny organizes a posse to capture the foremen and the film concludes in a gigantic (for Columbia Pictures) battle at Blockade Canyon. Handsome young Charles Locher, in one of his earliest featured roles, later changed his name to Jon Hall and starred in escapist melodramas at Universal. As she had in Starrett's first Western for Columbia, brunette Joan Perry once again played the heroine, this time the daughter of the opposing rancher. Perry later married her boss, feared (and foul-mouthed) Columbia studio czar Harry Cohn. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Tim McCoy's western series for Puritan Pictures were pretty shabby production-wise, but nearly always delivered the goods in the action department. McCoy plays a representative of a cattleman's association, dispatched to quell a range war. Fomenting the trouble is shifty-eyed Wheeler Oakman, who hides behind the cloak of respectability. With the help of young Tommy Bupp, McCoy gets the goods on Oakman and sends him to Boot Hill. Roaring Guns is the type of western in which such bloopers as Tim McCoy missing his stirrup as he mounts his steed are left in the film (retakes were an unaffordable luxury), but this tackiness only adds to the overall enjoyment. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

"Suggested" by the notorious trial of gangster Lucky Luciano, this typical low-budget sexploitation-melodrama came complete with the promise to rip "the lid from a vicious phase of American life." In reality, the sordid little film, which was instantly banned by New York censors, depicted little more than a standard tale of illicit gambling augmented by shots of starlets in their underwear. Mae Miller (Martha Chapin), the bleach blond wife of an aging medical student (Robert Frazer), is arrested for shooting Lucky Wilder (Wheeler Oakman) during a raid on Wilder's gambling den. The events leading up to the killing are then told in flashback. At a society garden party, Mae befriended Molly Murdock (Gay Sheridan), who promptly lured the young innocent into Lucky Wilder's den of inequity. Mae eventually accrued 9,000 dollars in gambling debts was forced into prostitution by Wilder and Mrs. Murdock. Lucky's seduction of Mae's kid sister Carolyn (Janet Eastman) and the latter's death following a back alley abortion finally drove Mae to shoot and kill her tormentor. Produced by J.D. Kendis, a well-known procurer of exploitation-thrillers, Gambling With Souls was directed by Elmer Clifton, a former protegée of D.W. Griffith who had fallen on hard times. The film was not screened in New York City until May of 1937, when it was re-released under the title Vice Racket. Like most exploitation films of the 1930s, Gambling With Souls was cast with a combination of unknown starlets and down-on-their-luck silent screen players, all of whom either overacted hilariously or didn't act at all. Florence Dudley, however, provided a bit of intentional comedy relief as a rather zoftig call girl. Footage from Gambling With Souls later found its way into Teen Age (1944). ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi