Tempe Piggott Movies

They said it couldn't be done, but they did it: Kathleen Winsor's "notorious", bestselling bodice-ripper Forever Amber actually made it to the screen in 1947 with full censorial approval. Of course, it was necessary to tone down the more erotic passages of Winsor's novel, but the end result pleased fans of the book and bluenosed nonfans alike. A last-minute replacement for British import Peggy Cummins, Linda Darnell steps into the role of 17th century blonde bed-hopper Amber as though she'd been born to play it. Feeling suppressed by her Puritan upbringing, Amber heads to London, finding considerable success as a courtesan (that's the polite word for it). The first real love of her life is dashing soldier Bruce Carlton, who leaves her pregnant and penniless when he marches off to war. Subsequent amours include the sadistic Earl of Radcliffe (a superbly loathsome performance by comic actor Richard Haydn), handsome highwayman Black Jack Mallard (John Russell) and privateer Captain Rex Morgan (Glenn Langan). Surviving the Plague and the Great London Fire with nary a hair out of place, Amber ends up in the arms of no less than King Charles II (wittily portrayed by George Sanders), but true love, as personified by Bruce Carlton, will always elude her. Taking no chances, 20th Century-Fox sent out Forever Amber with a spoken prologue, heard over the opening credits, which explained that the film in no way endorsed its heroine's libertine behavior, and that she would be amply punished for her sins before fadeout time (that prologue has thankfully been removed from current prints). A model of restraint by today's standards, Forever Amber was sufficiently titillating in 1947 to post an enormous profit, far in excess of its $4 million budget. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Jim Hetherton (Franchot Tone), the scion of an aristocratic rural English family, was traumatized from boyhood by a shooting accident and reaches adulthood as a sincere and dedicated pacifist -- like many of his generation in England. He makes his way through life as a schoolteacher with a promising future, and even ponders the possibility of marriage with Dora Bruckmann (Veronica Lake), the governess of his young nephew. But then the Second World War breaks out, which creates a crisis for Jim and his family and household. He decides that he can't a won't fight if it means killing another human being, and is accepted as a conscientious objector by the authorities. But in doing so, he is forced to give up his teaching position and take a job in farming, to contribute to the economic good at home. He soon finds himself being shunned by much of the village for his beliefs, and discovers that even amid a manpower shortage, securing a job to fulfill his service requirement is no easy matter. Meanwhile, his brother (John Sutton) is called up by the RAF, and his father (Henry Stephenson) joins the home guard. And Dora seems headed to an internment camp, until Jim marries her. But what neither he nor anyone else suspects is that Dora is actually an agent planted by the Germans, part of a team of fifth columnists working to undermine the British war effort. And her main concern is finding the location of a secret British airfield in the vicinity of the Hetherton estate. She manages to manipulate Jim by preying on his beliefs, and maneuvers him into potentially betraying his country. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

Olive Higgins Prouty's popular novel was transformed into nearly two hours of high-grade soap opera by several masters of the trade: Warner Bros., Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, director Irving Rapper, and screenwriter Casey Robinson. Davis plays repressed Charlotte Vale, dying on the vine thanks to her domineering mother (Gladys Cooper). All-knowing psychiatrist Dr. Jaquith (Claude Rains) urges Charlotte to make several radical changes in her life, quoting Walt Whitman: "Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find." Slowly, Charlotte emerges from her cocoon of tight hairdos and severe clothing to blossom into a gorgeous fashion plate. While on a long ocean voyage, she falls in love with Jerry Durrance (Henreid), who is trapped in a loveless marriage. After kicking over the last of her traces at home, Charlotte selflessly becomes a surrogate mother to Jerry's emotionally disturbed daughter (a curiously uncredited Janis Wilson), who is on the verge of becoming the hysterical wallflower that Charlotte once was. An interim romance with another man (John Loder) fails to drive Jerry from Charlotte's mind. The film ends ambiguously; Jerry is still married, without much chance of being divorced from his troublesome wife, but the newly self-confident Charlotte is willing to wait forever if need be. "Don't ask for the moon," murmurs Charlotte as Max Steiner's romantic music reaches a crescendo, "we have the stars." In addition to this famous line, Now, Voyager also features the legendary "two cigarettes" bit, in which Jerry places two symbolic cigarettes between his lips, lights them both, and hands one to Charlotte. The routine would be endlessly lampooned in subsequent films, once by Henreid himself in the satirical sword-and-sandal epic Siren of Baghdad (1953). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Given the omnipresence of the Motion Picture Production Code in 1940, the second film version of Robert E. Sherwood's Waterloo Bridge would have to be laundered and softened to pass muster. In the original, made in 1931, the heroine is nothing more or less than a streetwalker, patrolling London's Waterloo Bridge during World War I in hopes of picking up the occasional soldier. She falls in love with one of her clients, a young officer from an aristocratic family. Gently informed by the young man's mother that any marriage would be absolutely impossible, the streetwalker tearfully agrees, letting her beau down gently before ending her own life by walking directly into the path of an enemy bomb. In the remake, told in flashback as a means of "distancing" the audience from what few unsavory story elements were left, the heroine, Vivien Leigh, starts out as a virginal ballerina. Robert Taylor, a British officer from a wealthy family, falls in love with Vivien and brings her home to his folks. This time around, Taylor's uncle (C. Aubrey Smith), impressed by Vivien's sincerity, reluctantly agrees to the upcoming marriage. When Taylor marches off to war, Vivien abandons an important dance recital to bid her fiance goodbye, losing her job as a result. Later, she is led to believe that Taylor has been killed in battle. Thus impoverished and aggrieved, she is given a motivation for turning to prostitution, a plot element deemed unecessary in the original-which indeed it was. Now the stage is set for her final sacrifice, though the suicidal elements are carefully weeded out. Waterloo Bridge was remade for a second time in 1956 as Gaby, with Leslie Caron and John Kerr. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The schizophrenic screenplay of The Earl of Chicago is rendered even more bizarre by the uneven performance by Robert Montgomery. He plays Silky Kilmont, a Runyonesque American gangster who inherits a British title (Earl of Gorley) and mansion. Taking charge of his new estate, Silky has an amusing time trying to acclimate himself to the customs of the "landed gentry". Things take a sinister turn when Silky discovers that his trusted attorney Doc Ramsey (Edward Arnold) is actually a bigger crook than he is. In a rage, Silky murders Ramsey, then goes into what appears to be a catatonic shock, refusing to defend himself at his murder trial. Blood finally tells at the climax when Silky Kilmont, aka the Earl of Gorley, meets his fate with a dignity and decorum worthy of his aristocratic forebears. The queasy atmosphere of the film is heightened by its utter lack of romance; outside of character actress Norma Varden, there are barely any women in the film at all. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

A handful of German soldiers readjust to civilian life in the bitter wake of World War I in this follow-up to the classic All Quiet On The Western Front, which like the first film was based on a novel by Erich Maria Remarque. After the signing of the armistice, Capt. Von Hagen (John Emery) dismisses what is left of his troops, who march home to an uncertain future. Tjaden (Slim Summerville) finds himself helping to fend off rioters demanding food from a shop owned by the town's mayor (Etienne Girardot); the grateful mayor in turn offers Tjaden his daughter's hand in marriage. Weil (Larry Blake) becomes a political activist and finds himself acting as a spokesman for another group of citizens demanding precious food; this time, Weil is shot by troops led by his former commander, Capt. Von Hagen. Willy (Andy Devine) visits his former schoolteacher, who presents him with an ironic gift -- a toy gun he took away from Willy when he was a boy. And Albert (Maurice Murphy) comes home to discover his fiancée has wed another man, a man who avoided the war but found ways to profit from it at home. In a fit of rage, Albert kills the man, and finds himself on trial for his life. Combining a strong anti-war message with prescient warnings about the dangers of the rising Nazi regime, The Road Back was intended to be a powerful and controversial picture, and Universal entrusted it to their finest director, James Whale. However, by the time shooting was completed, new management had taken over the studio, and Nazi officials began applying pressure to Universal (as well as members of the film's cast) to delete the material critical of the Nazis, threatening to scuttle European distribution of future Universal product if their demands were not met. Universal bowed to their wishes, and the film was partially reshot with another director, and the remainder extensively re-edited, leaving the final product a pale shadow of what Whale had originally intended. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

"Every time Paul Muni parts his beard and looks through a microscope, we lose a million dollars." Producer Jack Warner's lament concerning Muni's historical dramas is cute enough, but hardly backed up by facts; the economically produced The Story of Louis Pasteur proved to be a surprise hit for the Brothers Warner. The Sheridan Gibney-Pierre Collings screenplay concentrates on Pasteur's tireless efforts to find a cure for anthrax and hydrophobia. The famed French scientist is continually challenged and thwarted by his principal rival, hidebound bacteriologist Dr. Charbonnet (Fritz Leiber). The film's climax, involving a desperate Pasteur, the immovable Charbonnet, Pasteur's ailing daughter (Anita Louise), and a hydrophobia-infected youngster (Dickie Moore), is straight out of the Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight school of melodrama. Within the film's context, however, this contrivance works magnificently. Virtually thrown away by Warners upon its first release, The Story of Louis Pasteur was finally awarded class-A treatment when the picture proved to be favorite with audiences and critics alike; Paul Muni's Academy Award win was the mere icing on the cake. The film's success led to Warners' decision to go ahead with 1937's The Life of Emile Zola, also starring Muni. This time, the studio copped its first Best Picture Oscar. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Suzy is the film in which Cary Grant, overcome by the beauty and vivacity of Jean Harlow, sings her a love ballad! This lighthearted moment aside, Suzy, adapted from a novel by Herbert Gorman is a standard-issue love triangle, set against the tapestry of World War I. Harlow plays a London showgirl, married to Irish engineer Franchot Tone. When foreign spy Benita Hume shoots Tone, mistaking him as a threat against her mission, the terrified Harlow flees into the night, certain that she will be accused of her husband's murder. After the war breaks out, Harlow, believing herself a widow, falls in love with handsome aviator Cary Grant. She marries the well-bred but irresponsible young ace, only to discover that Tone has not been killed after all! This being an idealized World War I film, somebody is going to end up sacrificing his/her life on behalf of somebody else, but we're not about to reveal any more. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Kay Francis stars as Stella Parish, a London stage favorite who suddenly disappears without a trace. British news correspondent Keith Lockridge (Ian Hunter) girdles the globe in search of Stella, who has left her beloved daughter Gloria (Sybil Jason) in the care of an aunt (Jessie Ralph). Finally locating his quarry, Lockridge learns that Stella dropped from view to hide the fact that she once served a jail sentence as an accessory to murder. He promises to kill the story for Gloria's sake, but his dispatch is inadvertently published away, forcing Stella into a tawdry career as a "freak" stage attraction (not unlike Evelyn Nesbit Shaw). After hitting rock-bottom in a burlesque show, Stella is rescued by her old director Stephan Norman (Paul Lukas), who invites her to revive the show she was starring in at the time of her disappearance. Little does she know that this comeback has been arranged by Lockridge, who hopes to atone for betraying her trust. All roads lead to a tear-stained reunion between Stella and her daughter, a denouement as inevitable as death and taxes. For years, it was believed that Errol Flynn played an unbilled bit in I Found Stella Parish, but a researcher in the late 1960s discovered that the Flynn look-alike was actually Francis X. Bushman Jr. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This greatest of all Frankenstein movies begins during a raging thunderstorm. Warm and cozy inside their palatial villa, Lord Byron (Gavin Gordon), Percy Shelley (Douglas Walton), and Shelley's wife Mary (Elsa Lanchester) engage in morbidly sparkling conversation. The wicked Byron mockingly chastises Mary for frightening the literary world with her recent novel Frankenstein, but Mary insists that her horror tale preached a valuable moral, that man was not meant to dabble in the works of God. Moreover, Mary adds that her story did not end with the death of Frankenstein's monster, whereupon she tells the enthralled Byron and Shelley what happened next. Surviving the windmill fire that brought the original 1931 Frankenstein to a close, the Monster (Boris Karloff) quickly revives and goes on another rampage of death and destruction. Meanwhile, his ailing creator Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) discovers that his former mentor, the demented Doctor Praetorius (Ernst Thesiger), plans to create another life-sized monster -- this time a woman! After a wild and wooly "creation" sequence, the bandages are unwrapped, and the Bride of the Monster (Elsa Lanchester again) emerges. Alas, the Monster's tender efforts to connect with his new Mate are rewarded only by her revulsion and hoarse screams. "She hate me," he growls, "Just like others!" Wonderfully acted and directed, The Bride of Frankenstein is further enhanced by the vivid Franz Waxman musical score; even the film's occasional lapses in logic and continuity (it was trimmed from 90 to 75 minutes after the first preview) are oddly endearing. Director James Whale was memorably embodied by Ian McKellen in the Oscar-winning 1998 biopic Gods and Monsters. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Calm Yourself starts off as ace advertising man Pat (Robert Young) is fired from his job when he offends the highly offendable -- and none too likeable -- Mary Elizabeth (Betty Furness). This segues into a phony kidnapping scheme that thrusts Pat and Mary together, furthering their mutual animosity. Fortunately for Pat, heroine Rosalind (Madge Evans) is an agreeable sort, and it is she with whom he ends up at fadeout time. Nat Pendleton goes through his usual paces as comic-opera gangster Knuckles Benedict. Director George B. Seitz, who ground out four films for MGM in 1935, allows the cast of Calm Yourself to mug and glower to their heart's content: some of it is funny, some of it isn't. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

It is a tale known well, filmed many times over the years, but never better than this early black and white version from the MGM Studios, David O. Selznick producing. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"-- Charles Dickens juxtaposes England and France, George and Louis, tradition and revolution. One of the most beloved of Dickens' stories, finding not only countries and conditions compared, but also two individuals thrown up in stark contrast to one another: -- the dissolute barrister Sydney Carton (Ronald Colman) and the young, somewhat callow aristocrat Charles Darnay (Donald Woods), both in love with Lucie (Elizabeth Allan), daughter of a victim of the French Regime. Their lives intertwine until the violent revolution that overtook an entire nation engulfs them all as well.

Dickens' story has stood the test of time; remade frequently since the release of this1935 version. It is this version by director Jack Conway's that is best remembered and to which all others are compared. The settings, cinematography, and direction are all right on the mark, recreating the streets of London and of Paris with great skill and realism. The supporting cast, filled with faces we have grown to cherish-- Reginald Owen, Edna May Oliver, Claude Gillingwater, Walter Catlett, H. B. Warner, Basil Rathbone, and E. E. Clive-comes through with crystalline performances which add substance to the inexorable stream of events. Blanche Yurka's bravura turn as Therese de Farge delights us even as we shudder at her intensity. Second unit directors Jacques Tourneur and Val Lewton, who would both go on to memorable careers as leading directors in their own right, staged the storming of the Bastille and other "revolutionary" scenes brilliantly, managing to combine fervor with panache. It is, however, Colman's portrayal of the lonely man redeemed by love and sacrifice which stands at the center of the story.

Sydney Carton first saves Charles Darnay from a charge of treason, thereby meeting those who care for him: the beautiful Lucie Manette, her father, Doctor Manette (Henry B. Walthall), released from the Bastille after many years of unjust incarceration; Lucie's servant Miss Pross, (Oliver) and Mister Lorry (Claude Gillingwater), an functionary of Tellson's Bank. His relationship with this circle of kind friends grows rocky when Darnay marries Lucie, whom Carton has loved from afar, but even this turn of events cannot change his feelings for them all and he grows to love them even more when daughter Lucie comes along. He reforms, leaving old ways behind and enjoying a familial warmth he has never known. This happy life is shattered when Darnay returns to France during the first revolutionary struggles, intent on saving his old tutor from the guillotine. He soon finds himself behind bars and facing the blade instead. The Revolution does not forget an aristocrat, even one who has recanted and lived life abroad as a commoner. The whole family makes the channel crossing to come to the young man's aid and Carton seeks a way to save him, discovering only one path to free Darnay and return everyone to safety. It is a sacrifice easily promised and quickly made.

Ronald Colman had long wanted to make a film of this story and, when he finally got his chance, he happily shaved off his signature mustache in an appropriate gesture to historical realism. Reviews of his work indicate his portrayal of Sydney Carton surpassed all his previous endeavors; he had been accused of walking through light parts, once he started making "talkies," and not putting his many talents to good use. "A Tale of Two Cities" put rest to those complaints. He dominates completely the scenes he which he does appear, and his skill gives substance to a literary achievement, a melancholy man of intelligence and wit, given to drink and despair, whose life seems to attain meaning only when it is given up for someone else. It is one of the portrayals for which Ronald Colman has come to be remembered.

There are various remake versions of A Tale of Two Cities. Dirk Bogarde played Carton in 1958 and Chris Sarandon starred in a television remake in 1980. While these and other versions have all been good films, none has achieved the stature of the 1935 version and its excellent combination of star power, technical brilliance and great storytelling. ~ Rovi