Mildred Boyd Movies

The real Matt Cvetic was a borderline alcoholic with a nasty disposition (he once allegedly beat his sister-in-law so badly she required hospitalization). But Cvetic was also a fervent anti-communist, and so, for a brief period in the early 1950s, he was a folk hero. I Was a Communist for the F.B.I. is the semi-true story of how Cvetic (played by Frank Lovejoy) renounced his friends and family and embraced the Red cause--on behalf of the F.B.I., for whom he was a volunteer undercover agent. The film recounts how Cvetic used his job as a Pittsburgh steelworker to contact various American Communist cell leaders, and how he exposed their insidious plans to overthrow the American government. Since the script infers that among the Reds' "subversive" plans was the Civil Rights Movement, I Was a Communist for the FBI is an embarrassing experience when seen today. Cvetic's memoirs were better dramatized by a 1951 radio series of the same title, starring Dana Andrews. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

John Garfield, in the best performance of his career, portrays Joe Morse, an ambitious attorney who has long since abandoned his scruples in favor of monetary reward. Morse now represents the interests of crime boss Ben Tucker (Roy Roberts), who plans to take over the numbers racket in New York. Morse has devised a way of doing this legally and above-board, with no violence: Tucker's people will bring about the collapse of the illegal numbers racket in the city, using a race track-betting scam that will bankrupt the small-time underworld numbers banks; an investigation will ensue, along with a call for a legal numbers operation in the form of a lottery, which Tucker will control through Morse's machinations. The whole plan hinges on Morse's estranged brother, Leo (Thomas Gomez), a small-time numbers banker who is to be shielded from the collapse, and who will serve as the "legitimate" front for Tucker. Leo is the flaw in the plan, however, because not only can't he stand the sight of Joe, but he is also too honest to participate in the plan -- he doesn't want his employees, all decent people just looking to earn a living, forced into the employ of real gangsters. Joe orchestrates a series of police raids that force Leo into his corner, and Joe's plan seems to be working out, but then the whole enterprise is threatened when a rival mob, run by Tucker's former Prohibition-era partner, Fico (Paul Fix), starts pressuring Leo, trying to get to Joe and Tucker. Fico and his men aren't any different from Tucker's mob, except that they're prepared to start shooting sooner to get what they want. Tucker decides to hang tough and expects everyone, including Leo, to do the same, even when Fico starts sending thugs around to frighten everyone. Soon Joe is beset by problems on three fronts -- he wants his brother out of Tucker's combination and safe; he is trying to romance Leo's bookkeeper (Beatrice Pearson), who is too nice a girl for who he is; and his own well-being is threatened by both Fico and Tucker, and a state investigator who has already tapped the phone of Joe's otherwise respectable partner. All of these threads are pulled together in the final section of the film, which is as violent and disturbing, yet poetic and graceful a resolution as any crime film of the 1940s ever delivered. Force of Evil was star-crossed almost from the start, as many of the people involved, including star John Garfield and director Abraham Polonsky (a writer making his debut behind the camera, with help from assistant director Don Weis in doing the camera set-ups and blocking), were suspect at the time for their leftist political views. Indeed, the company that made Force of Evil, Enterprise Productions, was also in trouble for the leftist leanings of its films in the midst of the Red Scare, and went out of business just as the movie was finished -- dropped by United Artists and picked up by MGM, of all studios, Force of Evil made it into theaters during Christmas week of 1948, not the ideal schedule for something as grim (albeit great) as this film was. As it turned out, it was Polonsky's last chance to direct for more than 20 years, and Garfield's last completely successful film. And a movie that should have been a triumph for all concerned ended up a cult favorite. ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

This story of two young hopefuls who come to Hollywood is merely a thin device to feature almost every star working for Paramount Studios in 1947. Mary Hatcher plays Catherine Brown, a woman of humble origins who arrives in Hollywood, where she meets another wanna-be movie star, Amber La Vonne (Olga San Juan). They work their way through the Paramount studios, trying to impress every important person. Mostly, the film is a cavalcade of songs by various stars that take place at several studio and Hollywood locations, including the famous Brown Derby restaurant. Many of the film's songs were written by Frank Loesser. Dorothy Lamour and Alan Ladd sing "Tallahassee"; Bing Crosby and Bob Hope play golf and sing a duet, "Harmony"; the Original Dixieland Jazz Band plays "Tiger Rag"; and a host of other top performers of the era appear in brief cameos. ~ Michael Betzold, All Movie Guide

If only Merrily We Go To Hell was as interesting as its title! To escape an arranged marriage, heiress Joan Prentice (Sylvia Sidney) elopes with reporter Jerry Corbett (Fredric March). Unfortunately, Corbett is not only irresponsible, but also an abusive drunkard. To make matters worse, predatory Claire Hempstead (Adrienne Ames) has set her mind on stealing Corbett away from the hapless Joan. Finally fed up with her besotted mate, Joan walks out on him, only to discover that she's pregnant. The prospect of impending fatherhood causes Corbett to shape up and "dry out" in a hurry, but one still has doubts whether he'll be able to keep his promise never to touch another drop of liquor. Cary Grant has a tiny role as a stage actor in this unsettling blend of romance, drinking jokes, and Victorian melodrama. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide