Joan Shawlee Movies

Partially filmed at Whittier, CA, and at Hollywood's General Service Studio, this low-budget exploitation melodrama features Laurette Luez as Tigri, the head of a tribe of Amazonian women charged by an elder (Janette Scott) to find and capture husbands by the next full moon. Tigri finds and captures Engor (Allan Nixon), but a rival, Arva (Mara Lynn), also claims the handsome cave-dwelling tribesman. Tigri, however, manages to hold on to her man, but Engor gets the upper hand after accidentally discovering how to make fire by striking two stones together. The women are soon turned into slaves, but this little idyll is rudely disrupted by the arrival of Guaddi, an eight-foot giant who threatens to destroy them all. The giant is eventually slain by the men and Tigri, who has fallen in love, persuades Engor to return with her to the women's camp where the elder marries them. Sold on the independent exploitation circuit, Prehistoric Women reportedly made a mint for its producer, Albert J. Cohen. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Fans of Loretta Young were rather taken aback by the early scenes of Because of You, wherein Young is seen as brash, uninhibited bleach-blonde Christine Carroll. On the verge of marrying gangster Mike Monroe (Alex Nicol), Christine is arrested by the cops, and sent to prison on the strength of incriminating evidence slipped into her purse by the duplicitous Monroe. Through the kindness of prison psychiatrist Dr. Breen (Alexander Scourby), Christine turns her life around in prison, becoming a nurse's aid in the infirmary. Upon her release, Christine gets a job at a respectable hospital, where she falls in love with wounded combat pilot Steve Kimberly (Jeff Chandler). Will she ever be able to reveal her sordid past without sending the emotionally fragile Steve off the deep end? And what about that no-good Mike Monroe? The supporting cast of Because of You includes two of Loretta Young's contemporaries of the 1930s, Frances Dee and Mae Clarke, in strongly defined character roles. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The Abbott & Costello Show marked the last major commercial success for the comic team of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. The duo, who had started out in burlesque in the 1930's (and each had long experience in entertainment and performing before they met), had been a veritable fixure on radio since 1938, when they'd appeared on The Kate Smith Hour, which led to work on Broadway and more radio work in 1940, initially on a summer replacement show for Fred Allen, and later with their own shows on NBC and, subsequently, on ABC. It was on the radio show that they assembled the core cast of performers, regulars and bit players, who would later work in their movies and the subsequent television series -- first and foremost among these was Sidney Fields, who would contribute to some of their early movies as a writer and bit-player, but the other important names were Iris Adrian and Elvia Allman, both of whom would later turn up on their television show. Their radio show continued into the start of the 1950's, and overlap with their film career, which began in 1941 -- up thru 1950, the films were immensely popular and profitable. But their film audience had begun to decline with the start of the new decade, and during this same period it became clear that radio had seen its day as the dominant broadcast entertainment medium. The duo began looking at television as the next stop for their careers, and made the jump to the small-screen in 1951, initially as guests on The Colgate Comedy Hour, which was successful enough so that a regular television series seemed a real possibility. That became a reality in 1952 with the first season of The Abbott & Costello Show, which went on the air on CBS in December of that year. Produced by Costello's brother Pat Costello, the rotund little comic had an ownership interest in the program, whereas Bud Abbott, unsure of the future of television, chose instead to take a larger straight salary, with no longterm interest or ownership stake in the show. The show was shot and produced at Hal Roach Studios in Los Angeles, using the same sets that were used (at the very same time period) for the Amos 'n Andy Show. The first season of The Abbott & Costello Show was formatted very loosely, and opened like a stage revue, with the two comic stepping out on stage and addressing the viewing audience, and doing some schtick, which might range anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes -- in the very first show, "The Drug Store", Costello tries to tell a fish-story to the audience in spite of Abbott's constant, brilliantly timed interruptions, which culminate with the little comic stalking off-stage, thwarted and dejected; in the very next scene, in the "story" proper, Costello is walking down a street when a woman approaches him, says, "How dare you remind me of somebody I hate!" and hits him on the head with an umbrella . . . and so it went, in 26 programs done that season in which the barest plot elements often gave way to screamingly funny digressions, leaving any semblance of story arc in the dust. Often scenes and plots were merely set-ups and excuses for the duo to do one of their classic burlesque, vaudeville, or radio routines, of which the most famous was "Who's On First," in which Abbott tries to tell an increasingly frustrated Costello the names of the member of a baseball team ("Who's on first, What's on second, and I Don't Know's on third . . . . ") -- others were "Niagara Falls" (aka "Slowly I Turned"), "Mustard," "Hertz U Drive," "Susquehanna Hat Company" (aka "Bagle Street," aka "Floogle Street," a sketch that veteran comic Joey Faye claimed authorship of), and "Jonah and the Whale." There were literally dozens of such routines, and they were all used liberally in that first season. Indeed, one episode, "Getting A Job", seems to have been assembled from random pieces of footage, without any continuing plot at all and none of the pieces of footage really relating in anyway to those around them -- and it is still immensely funny, mostly because that's the episode that has the "Susquehanna Hat Company" sketch in it. The basic premise of the first season presented Bud Abbott and Lou Costello -- using their own names -- as denizens of a Los Angeles rooming house owned by Sidney Fields (using his own name for his character), who also played other roles in various episodes, including innumerable Fields brothers and cousins, and lawyer Claude Melonhead, among others, and also wrote many of the shows -- the bald-headed Fields was excitable and blustery, and the perfect foil for both comedians. Gordon Jones, an athlete-turned-actor and veteran action film star, played Mike The Cop (aka Mike Kelly), a resident of the same rooming house and the constant nemesis of the two heroes, especially Costello. Joe Kirk, Costello's brother-in-law, played Mr. Bacciagalupe, who always seemed to be in businesses that were relevant to whatever the story-line or sketch required, as well as occasional other characters. And Hillary Brooke, a tall, glamorous, classically-trained actress who'd graced motion pictures for the previous decade, played a character of the same name, who also lived in the rooming house (though in the first episode, her character didn't have a name and didn't know Abbott or Costello) -- one running joke was Costello's crush on Hillary, and his occasional inept efforts to tell her how he felt, which frequently ended up with him stepping on her foot, covering her with water, soot, or some other unpleasant substance, or otherwise offending her. Another regular was Joe Besser, still a few years from joining the Three Stooges, who played Stinky, another resident of the rooming house -- he was surreal, a fat 40-year-old bald man in a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, acting like a bad-tempered seven-year-old and always fighting with Costello. And the duo's own resident comic "stooge" and de facto court jester, Bobby Barber, a bald-headed man with huge, expressive eyes and limbs seemingly made of rubber, played a multitude of roles (sometimes as many as three in the same episode!), usually in some slapstick interaction with Costello. The other bit players were Milt Bronson who, in addition to being an on-screen nemesis to Costello, also served as dialogue director for the show; veteran film actress Iris Adrian as a variety of excitable women; Robin Raymond in the same sorts of parts; Minerva Urecal, a veteran stage and screen actress, who was kind of this duo's answer to the Marx Brothers' Margaret Dumont; and Joan Shawlee (who could also play as many as three roles in the same show) as a frequent sharp-tongued female antagonist for Costello (most memorably as an uncooperative telephone operator who drives Costello to distraction as the latter tries to call the number ALexander 4444). And most surreal of all was the presence of Bingo the Chimp, a chimpanzee who was usually seen wearing a miniature version of Lou Costello's familiar checked jacket and derby hat. Jean Yarbrough, who'd made numerous low-budget films at Universal, directed the show. The first season was hugely successful, but following it up proved a problem. The sponsors wanted a more conventional comedy series, and the decision to go in that direction was probably a necessity in any case, as the team had used up most of their best routines in those first 26 shows. For the second season, the concept was changed significantly -- Abbott and Costello still lived at the Fields apartment house, Sidney Fields was still their landlord, and Gordon Jones's Mike the Cop was still there for some shows, but gone were Joe Kirk, Hillary Brooke, Joe Besser, and Bingo. Additionally, the shows were no longer structured to allow the easy inclusion of vaudeville routines, and there was no longer any opening and closing "set up" in which the two would address the audience -- plots were followed from beginning to end, and an extremely annoying laugh-track was utilized (the first season also had a laugh-track, but a much more realistic one -- the second season was filled with grotesque shrieking laughs, often in the wrong spots). For scripts, the second season also fell back on a lot of recycled humor in scripts that seem to have mostly been written by Clyde Bruckman, a gagman from the silent era, who shamelessly repeated bits he'd written for Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton and, more recently, the Three Stooges et al, so closely that scenes were sometimes interchangeable between A&C and the Stooges. It was still a funny show, but not as consistently so by a longshot. It also marked the beginning of the end of the duo's popular culture impact; their new movies were sinking fast in quality and audience, and the reissue of their classic old films, plus the release of the movies they were making and the television series -- which ran to 52 shows -- led to the duo's being seriously over-exposed at the time. By 1955, the year after the series ended production, they were at the tail-end of their careers. The series continued to be popular, however, and actually found a larger audience in syndication -- it proved especially popular in late-afternoon time-slots, where young viewers who'd never seen the duo's earlier movies could discover them for the first time, much as they would do with the Three Stooges when their short films were licensed for broadcast. Costello's family, which inherited his ownership interest in the show following his death in 1959, reaped the benefits from those decades of syndicated telecasts or video and DVD sales. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

The scene is Schofield Army Barracks in Honolulu, in the languid days before the attack on Pearl Harbor, where James Jones' acclaimed war novel From Here to Eternity brought the aspirations and frustrations of several people sharply into focus. Sergeant Milt Warden (Burt Lancaster) enters into an affair with Karen (Deborah Kerr), the wife of his commanding officer. Private Robert E. Lee "Prew" Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) is a loner who lives by his own code of ethics and communicates better with his bugle than he does with words. Prew's best friend is wisecracking Maggio (Frank Sinatra, in an Oscar-winning performance that revived his flagging career), who has been targeted for persecution by sadistic stockade sergeant Fatso Judson (Ernest Borgnine). Rounding out the principals is Alma Lorene (Donna Reed), a "hostess" at the euphemistically named whorehouse The New Congress Club. All these melodramatic joys and sufferings are swept away by the Japanese attack on the morning of December 7. No words could do justice to the film's most famous scene: the nocturnal romantic rendezvous on the beach, with Burt Lancaster's and Deborah Kerr's bodies intertwining as the waves crash over them. If you're able to take your eyes off the principals for a moment or two, keep an eye out for George Reeves; his supporting role was shaved down when, during previews, audiences yelled "There's Superman!" and began to laugh. From Here to Eternity won eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay, and supporting awards to Sinatra and Reed. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Co-written by director Richard Quine and Blake Edwards, All Ashore has so many excellent individual components that one wishes the sum total was better than it is. Mickey Rooney, Dick Haymes and Ray McDonald play a trio of eternally broke sailors, on shore leave at Catalina Island. Because of his propensity for getting into trouble, Rooney is the drudge of the group. Even so, it is Rooney who stands the best chance of succeeding when all three gobs set their sights on lovely millionaire's daughter Barbara Bates. McDonald's perennial dancing partner Peggy Ryan is on hand for a few musical numbers, while Haymes gets to display his rich singing voice as he woos Jody Lawrance. Highlights include an elaborate "opera bouffe" dream sequence and a running gag involving a pianist with twelve fingers. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Bob Hope tries to capture the comic magic of his 1946 costume farce Monsieur Beaucaire with the splashy Technicolor romp Casanova's Big Night (filmed in 1952, released in 1954). Set in 18th century Venice, the film casts Hope as Pippo, the humble tailor of notorious ladies' man Casanova (an unbilled Vincent Price). When Casanova skips town without paying his debts, the local tradesman's guild, led by Casanova's butler Lucio (Basil Rathbone), conspire to pass off one of their number as the great lover and arrange a profitable marriage. Selected to impersonate Casanova is the hapless Pippo, who soon afterward is hired by the imperious Duchess of Castelbello (Hope Emerson) to test the fidelity of the duchess' future daughter-in-law Elena (Audrey Dalton). Along the way, Pippo is given lessons in etiquette and swordsmanship by both Lucio and tradeswoman Francesca (Joan Fontaine). Eventually, Pippo finds himself up to his neck in court intrigue, courtesy of the scheming Doge of Venice (Arnold Moss). Further complications include a couple of hilarious swashbuckling scenes, an interlude in a dungeon with addlepated prisoner Emo (Lon Chaney), and the obligatory disguise scene. The Pirandellian ending of Casanova's Big Night was later imitated by such films as The Maltese Bippy (1969) and Wayne's World (1992). Bob Hope is in fine form, the production is sumptuous and the supporting cast superb, but somehow there's a little something missing in Casanova's Big Night. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The 1954 musical remake of A Star is Born could have been titled A Star is Reborn, in that it represented the triumphal return to the screen of Judy Garland after a four-year absence. The remake adheres closely to the plotline of the 1937 original: An alcoholic film star, on his last professional legs, gives a career boost to a unknown aspiring actress. The two marry, whereupon her fame and fortune rises while his spirals sharply downward. Unable to accept this, the male star crawls deeper into the bottle. The wife tearfully decides to give up her own career to care for her husband. To spare her this fate, the husband chivalrously commits suicide. His wife is inconsolable at first, but is urged to go "on with the show" in memory of her late husband. In the original, Janet Gaynor played Esther Blodgett, who with no training or contacts came to Hollywood hoping for stardom. The remake, scripted by Moss Hart, is a shade more realistic: Garland's Esther, though far removed from fame, is a working professional singer/dancer when first we meet her. Both Gaynor and Garland are transformed from "Esther Blodgett" to "Vicki Lester" after being screen-tested, though Gaynor goes on to star in fluffy costume dramas while Garland more logically headlines big-budget musicals. The 1937 Star is Born costarred Fredric March as Norman Maine, Esther/Vicki's sponsor-cum-spouse. March patterned his performance after the tragic John Barrymore, reining in his emotions in favor of pure technique; James Mason's interpretation is more original, more emotional, and far more effective (who can forget the scene where Norman sobbingly overhears Vicki planning to give up her career for his sake?) As the studio's long-suffering publicist, the 1937 version's Lionel Stander is more abrasive and unpleasant than the 1954 version's introspective, intellectual Jack Carson; on the other hand, Adolphe Menjou and Charles Bickford are fairly evenly matched in the role of the studio head. Several important omissions are made in the remake. The 1937 Star is Born included Esther's indomitable old grandma (May Robson), a helpful assistant director (Andy Devine) and a soft-hearted landlord (Edgar Kennedy); all three characters are missing from the 1954 version, though elements of each can be found in the "best friend/severest critic" character played by Tommy Noonan. Wisely, both versions end with the grieving Vicki Lester coming out of her shell at a public gathering, greeting the audience with a proud, defiant "Good evening, everybody. This is Mrs. Norman Maine". Though directors William Wellman (1937 version) and George Cukor (1954 version) handle this finale in their own distinctive manners, the end result is equally effective emotionally. What truly sets the 1954 A Star is Born apart from other films of its ilk is its magnificent musical score by Harold Arlen and Ira Gershwin. The songs include The Man Who Got Away (brilliantly performed by Garland in one long take, sans dubbing), It's a New World, Somewhere There's a Someone, I Was Born in a Trunk, Lose That Long Face and Gotta Have Me Go With You. When originally previewed in 1954, the film ran well over three hours, thanks to the lengthy-and thoroughly disposable-Born in a Trunk number, added to the film as an afterthought without the approval or participation of director George Cukor. The Warner Bros. executives trimmed the film to 154 minutes, eliminating three top-rank musical numbers and several crucial expository sequences (including Norman's proposal to Vicki). At the instigation of the late film historian Ronald Haver, the full version was painstakingly restored in 1983, with outtakes and still photos bridging the "lost" footage. Though nominated in several categories, A Star is Born was left empty-handed at Academy Award time, an oversight that caused outrage then and still rankles Judy Garland fans to this day (Footnote: Judy Garland had previously played Vicki Lester in a 1942 Lux Radio Theatre adaptation of the original A Star is Born). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

George Pal's now-quaint science fiction odyssey concerns a multi-national group on the first space flight to Mars. Pal pulls out all stops in the special effects department, creating "The Wheel" (a earth-orbiting circular space station), rocket launches into space, and a breathtaking near-collision with an asteroid. The film itself concerns the travails of the crew of the spaceship as they make their way to Mars. General Samuel T. Merritt (Walter Brooke) heads the team. Supporting him and along for the ride are his son, Captain Barney Merritt (Eric Fleming), Sergeant Mahony (Mickey Shaughnessy), Jackie Siegle (Phil Foster), and Imoto (Benson Fong). As the ship gets closer to their Martian quest, General Merritt cracks and tries to sabotage both the mission and the crew, babbling about the blasphemy of mankind trespassing upon God's domain. His son is forced to kill him and save the mission, whereupon the crew peacefully lands on the Martian surface and scouts out the terrain like a group of sightseers at Lourdes before returning to Earth. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

It's the Bowery Boys again, in their 35th feature film. Sach (Huntz Hall) buys a battered oil lamp, which turns out to have belonged to Aladdin some 2000 years earlier. Out pops a genial genie (Eric Blore), who grants every wish of Sach and his pal Slip (Leo Gorcey). Gangsters steal the lamp, but discover that the genie won't grant any wishes unless Slip and Sach tell him to, so the baddies snatch Our Heroes as well. The boys escape by insisting that the genie take them home. He does--to his home, ancient Baghdad. Slip and Sach barely escape the scimitar of the angry Caliph; they return to the Bowery minus the genie but with their heads intact. In typical Bowery Boys fare, this entry is pepped up by the appearance of veteran comic actor Eric Blore in his final screen appearance. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Farewell to Arms is the second film version of Ernest Hemingway's World War One novel--and also the last film produced by David O. Selznick (Gone with the Wind). Rock Hudson plays an American serving in the Italian Army during the "War to End All Wars". Jennifer Jones is his lover, a Red cross nurse. They have a torrid affair, which results in Jones' pregnancy. As the months pass, Hudson and Jones lose contact with one another, and Jones believes that Hudson has forgotten her. But a battle-weary Hudson finally makes it to Switzerland, where Jones is hospitalized. The baby is stillborn, and Jones dies shortly afterward, murmuring that her death is "a dirty trick." Filmed on a simpler scale in 1932 (with Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes starring), A Farewell to Arms was blown all out of proportion to "epic" stature for the 1957 remake--so much so that its original director, John Huston, quit the film in disgust. Still, the basic love story is touchingly enacted by Rock Hudson and Jennifer Jones. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The launching pad for Billy Wilder's comedy classic was a rusty old German farce, Fanfares of Love, whose two main characters were male musicians so desperate to get a job that they disguise themselves as women and play with an all-girl band in gangster-dominated 1929 Chicago. In this version, musicians Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) lose their jobs when a speakeasy owned by mob boss Spats Columbo (George Raft) is raided by prohibition agent Mulligan (Pat O'Brien). Several weeks later, on February 14th, Joe and Jerry get a job perfroming in Urbana and end up witnessing a gangland massacre in a parking garage. Fearing that they will be next on the mobsters' hit lists, Joe devises an ingenious plan for disguising their identities. Soon they are all dolled up and performing as Josephine and Daphne in Sweet Sue's all-girl orchestra. En route to Florida by train with Sweet Sue's band, the boys (girls?) make the acquaintance of Sue's lead singer Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe, in what may be her best performance). Joe and Jerry immediately fall in love, though of course their new feminine identities prevent them from acting on their desires. Still, they are determined to woo her, and they enact an elaborate series of gender-bending ruses complicated by the fact that flirtatious millionaire Osgood Fielding (Joe E. Brown) has fallen in love with "Daphne." The plot gets even thicker when Spats Columbo and his boys show up in Florida. Nominated for several Oscars, Some Like It Hot ended up the biggest moneymaking comedy up to 1959. Full of hilarious set pieces and movie in-jokes, it has not tarnished with time and in fact seems to get better with each passing year, as its cross-dressing humor keeps it only more and more up-to-date. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Ira Levin wrote the stage comedy Critic's Choice as a good-natured retort to a comment made by critic Walter Kerr. In his essay How Not to Write a Play, Kerr noted that the worst possible scenario would involve a drama critic forced to review a play written by his wife (we should mention that Kerr's own wife was noted playwright Jean Kerr). Levin utilized this very scenario, and the result was a Broadway hit. Less successful artistically was the 1962 film version, though with Bob Hope and Lucille Ball as stars, the film couldn't help but clean up at the box office. Hope portrays theatrical critic Parker Ballantine, while Lucille Ball plays his wife Angela. Feeling "useless," Angela writes a play as a lark, then is amazed when it is optioned by a major producer. Parker does his best to get out of the responsibility of reviewing the play (which very well may be as bad as he thinks it is), but cannot escape the responsibility. Much of the verbal wit of the Levin original is sacrificed in favor of one-line quips; there is also an overabundance of gratuitous slapstick during a little-league game and the climactic "opening night" sequence. Still, Hope and Ball work together well as always. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi