S.N. Behrmann Movies

Originally advertised as "Colossal Quo Vadis," this opulent MGM production is far and away the most elaborate of the many versions of Henryk Sienkiewicz's novel. The plot, as always, concerns the romance between a beautiful early Christian woman (Deborah Kerr) and the initially agnostic Roman soldier Marcus Vinicius (Robert Taylor). This love story is laid against the larger intrigues of the debauched emperor Nero (Peter Ustinov), who hopes to gain immortality by destroying Rome with a fire and remaking it in his own image. Part of Nero's master plan is the elimination of the Christian "threat," leading to the climactic lion picnics in the arena. In spite of the many more celebrated highlights (the burning of Rome, the rescue of Lygia [Deborah Kerr] from a rampaging bull, the upside-down crucifixion of Simon Peter), the scene that remains most vivid in the memory is the posthumous "final insult" delivered to Nero by his contemptuous former aide Petronius (Leo Genn). Sophia Loren can be briefly spotted as an extra during one of the crowd scenes. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This George Cukor romantic comedy casts Greta Garbo as ski instructor Karin Borg Blake. She gives lessons to wealthy American playboy Larry Blake (Melvyn Douglas), and the two fall in love and marry even though Larry has a girlfriend named Griselda Vaughn (Constance Bennett) waiting for him back in New York. Returning to New York, Karin fears that Griselda will win Larry back. In an effort to foil Larry's imagined dalliance, Karin poses as her own twin sister, Katherine, hoping to get Larry to fall in love with her instead of Griselda. Larry is onto the scheme and plays along with her, pretending to fall in love with Katherine. But this infuriates Karin, who can't believe that her husband would fall in love with her sister, and she storms back to her ski resort. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

After an eccentric young woman (Merle Oberon) is left on her father's estate to keep her from spoiling his Presidential bid, she attends a rodeo and falls in love with a cowboy (Gary Cooper). They marry soon after, and must confront the furious father. ~ John Bush, Rovi

The true story of one of Ireland's leading political figures of the late 19th Century inspired this biographical drama. Charles Stewart Parnell (Clark Gable) is a politician and activist whose tireless work towards the cause of Irish independence has earned him the nickname "the Uncrowned King of Ireland." After a fund-raising trip to the United States, Parnell is introduced to Katie O'Shea (Myrna Loy), whose husband Willie O'Shea (Alan Marshall) is running for Parliament. In truth, Katie and Willie's marriage is on its last leg; she despises him, but he refuses to give her a divorce, in part because Katie's wealthy Aunt Bea (Edna Mae Oliver) is willing to pay him to keep his distance. Willie hopes that a friendship between Katie and Parnell could be a stepping stone towards an endorsement from Parnell -- which, given his popularity, would make a massive difference in the polls. However, as Parnell continues to rally support for a free Ireland, he finds he's fallen in love with Katie, and she is also strongly attracted to him. When Willie learns of their romance, he makes a devious proposal to Parnell -- with an independent Irish state seemingly imminent, and with Parnell the likely leader, Willie demands a high office within his administration, or otherwise he'll tell the world about Parnell's affair with a married woman, which could end his career and set the cause of Irish freedom to a halt. Parnell was an infamous box-office disappointment in its day, and Gable's significant other Carole Lombard was said to have loved teasing him about the film; it's failure led Gable to pledge he'd never make another costume picture, though he later relented when Gone With The Wind came along. ~ Mark Deming, 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

This film from director Harold Young is the second big-screen adaptation of Baroness Emmuska Orczy's 1905 novel The Scarlet Pimpernel. Leslie Howard stars as Sir Percy Blakeney, a British aristocrat who rescues innocent victims of the French Revolution under the guise of The Scarlet Pimpernel while maintaining the identity of a foppish dandy by day. Even his wife, Lady Marguerite Blakeney (Merle Oberon), is unaware of Percy's heroic alter-ego as he and his band of likeminded masked men save countless people from the guillotine. Perhaps the most famous adaptation of the classic book, The Scarlet Pimpernel would later be lampooned in 1966's Don't Lose Your Head. ~ Matthew Tobey, Rovi

If Queen Christina is not the best of Greta Garbo's films (as many Garbo fanatics insist), it is certainly the most luxuriously romantic of her talkie features. The star is cast as 17th-century Swedish queen Christina, who feels that she can best function in a male-dominated world by adopting men's clothes and attitudes (this cross-dressing element adds a subliminally gay subtext which curiously makes the subsequent events all the more poignant). Fiercely devoted to her country and the welfare of her people, Christina has long since abandoned all thoughts of pursuing any kind of a romance -- but changes her mind when she meets and falls in love with Spanish envoy Antonio (John Gilbert). After an idyllic night together, Christina and Antonio are compelled to part, but the Queen vows then and there to relinquish her throne in favor of marriage to the envoy. Alas, the complex political machinations between their two countries permanently separate the two lovers, leaving Christina more alone in the world than ever. The chemistry between Garbo and Gilbert -- who as the whole world knew in 1933 had once been real-life lovers -- is positively mesmerizing, especially in the classic scene wherein Christina, after consummating their passion, walks dreamily around their room, touching and memorizing every detail (so persuasive is her pantomime in this scene that her last-minute explanation as to what she is doing is not only unnecessary, but downright jarring). Equally unforgettable is the final shot of Garbo staring enigmatically past the camera, allowing the viewer to "fill in" her thoughts (director Rouben Mamoulian always claimed that he ordered Garbo to think about "absolutely nothing," but one wonders). While some of Garbo's earliest talkies tend to creak a bit, Queen Christina is as fascinating today as it was nearly seven decades ago, and will undoubtedly continue to remain just as fascinating for the next seven decades. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Originally filmed with Mary Pickford in 1917, the Kate Douglas Wiggin children's classic Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm was remade as a talkie in 1932. Though a bit long in tooth to play the leading character, Marian Nixon (replacing a recalcitrant Janet Gaynor) makes a charming Rebecca. Placed in the custody of her wealthy, spiteful old Aunts Miranda (Louise Closser Hale) and Jane (Mae Marsh), the heroine eventually wins the two biddies over with her relentless good nature, charm and optimism. She also reforms avowed atheist Zion Simpson (Alan Hale), convincing the old reprobate to marry his common-law wife (Eula Guy). As a reward for all her good works, Rebecca wins the love of local doctor Ladd (Ralph Bellamy). An in-name-only adaptation of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm was filmed six years later, with Shirley Temple in the lead. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Surrender is yet another triangular romance set against the backdrop of WWI. French POW Dumaine (Warner Baxter) is sequestered near the castle of a prideful Prussian nobleman, Count Reinmacher (C. Aubrey Smith), who lives for the day that his four sons will march triumphantly into Paris. Axelle (Leila Hyams), the daughter of one of the sons, makes periodic goodwill visits to the prison compound, and by-and-by she falls in love with Dumaine. Things take a dirty-work-at-the-crossroads turn when Captain Elbing (Ralph Bellamy), the martinet prison commandant, likewise develops an interest in Axtelle. Though Surrender hasn't been seen in years, outtakes from the film -- in which the dignified C. Aubrey Smith swears like a sailor after blowing his lines -- have long been on the public-domain video market. The film was based on Axelle, a play by Pierre Benoit, previously filmed in France. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Arguably John Ford's weakest film, The Brat was based on a popular 1917 stage play written by and starring Maude Fulton, which in turn was made into a popular comedy for Alla Nazimova in 1919. Although vivacious and pretty, Sally O'Neil was hardly in Nazimova's league but here she is in the title role, a 17-year-old street urchin taken in by wealthy novelist MacMillan "Mack" Forester (Allan Dinehart), whose household she continues to aggravate with her street-smart wisdom. Soon enough, however, the Foresters begin to admire the girl, especially young Steven Forester who has fallen head over heels in love. "The Brat" loves the much older Mack, whose live-in girlfriends (Virginia Cherrill and June Collyer) become instantly jealous. In the end, however, the Brat realizes that Mack's infatuation with her is insincere and decides instead to marry Steven. The Brat was remade a second time by Fox in 1940 as The Girl From Avenue A, a vehicle for juvenile star Jane Withers. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Despite his precarious health, silent film idol Milton Sills insisted upon tackling one of the most challenging roles of his career in the 1930 talkie The Sea Wolf. Based on the novel by Jack London, the film stars Sills as the psychotic Wolf Larsen, captain of the bad ship Ghost. In the original novel, Larsen rules his tiny vessel like a banana-republic despot, adhering to Satan's credo "Better to Reign in Hell Than Serve in Heaven," as set down in Milton's Paradise Lost. Evidently worried that so villainous a portrayal would hurt Sills' image, the producers split the Larsen role in two: Wolf Larsen is still a fanatic, but far less dangerous than his co-skipper brother Death Larsen (Mitchell Lewis). Another deviation from the novel is the inclusion of a heroine (Jane Keith), a plot device later repeated in the 1940 Edward G. Robinson remake. Still, the 1930 film utilizes London's original ending, with Wolf Larson hiding the fact that he's blind for fear that his scurvy crew will stage a bloody mutiny. Though no one knew it at the time, The Sea Wolf would stand as Milton Sills's valedictory film: the actor died of heart failure on September 15, 1930. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi