Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Movies

The first "talkie" gangster movie to capture the public's imagination, Mervyn LeRoy's Little Caesar started a cycle of crime-related movies that Warner Bros. rode across the ensuing decade and right into World War II with titles such as All Through the Night (1941). At the start of the picture, Caesar Enrico "Rico" Bandello (Edward G. Robinson, made up to look a lot like the real-life Al Capone) and his friend Joe Massara (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) are robbing a gas station -- later on, at a diner, they're looking over a newspaper and see a story about Diamond Pete Montana (Ralph Ince), a gangster so well known that he gets headlines and stories written about how powerful he is. That's what Rico wants, more than money or anything else: to be czar of the underworld and "not just another mug." Joe admits that sometimes he just thinks of trying to become what he wanted to be when he started out: a professional dancer. They head east to Chicago (which is never named, but with the talk of the north side and the territories, you know what city it is) and Rico talks his way into the local mob run by Sam Vettori (Stanley Fields). The leader has his doubts over how quick Rico is to go for his gun, but also thinks he might be useful if he is as fearless as he says and can be kept under control.

Soon Rico is Sam's top enforcer and bodyguard, but it isn't long before he starts acting like the boss, questioning other members' loyalty and bravery and pushing into Sam's role as leader. He also commands the loyalty of the gang through his resourcefulness at planning and pulling jobs that are tough and risky, and getting away with them; the only exception is Joe, their respectable "front man," who has found romance with an actress (Glenda Farrell) and a career, and wants out of helping the gang. Rico won't let him leave, and pushes him to help them on a brazen New Year's Eve robbery of a restaurant, during which the new crime commissioner is shot dead by Rico. Now the heat is on, but instead of keeping a low profile, Rico seizes control of the gang from Sam and secures his power by ruthlessly rubbing out the only member (William Collier) who seems likely to squeal, gunning the man down on the steps of a church. Before long, Rico is the first among equals among the local mob chieftains, sharing a dais at a dinner honoring him with his nominal boss and one-time idol Diamond Pete. He's also making enemies by the bushel -- Flaherty (Thomas E. Jackson), the cop heading the investigation into the murder of the commissioner, won't let up and makes it his personal business to nail Rico, and the rival chieftains don't like the publicity Rico's getting or the attention it brings to all of them. Rico survives attempts on his life and consolidates his hold on the streets, and is suddenly on the edge of achieving his goal -- the "Big Boy" (Sidney Blackmer), the wealthy social Brahmin who really controls crimes in the city, invites him to a meeting to tell him that Diamond Pete is finished. Rico is going to be in charge of the rackets across the entire city and making sure the local bosses stay in line. He is at the pinnacle of his career, and then Rico overreaches -- he can still be nailed for the murder of the commissioner, and is paranoid enough not to trust Joe, even though Joe helped saved Rico's life and insists that he'll never squeal; Rico also plans on supplanting the Big Boy. His rise to power unravels as fast as it happened, in an outburst of violence that drives him underground. But with an ego as big as his, Rico can't stay hidden for too long, and Flaherty is waiting for him.

The violence in Little Caesar may seem tame by today's standards -- although seeing a proper print of the movie, such as the 2005-issued DVD, does restore some of that impact -- but it was shocking at the time, and proved riveting and even seductive, especially because it was tied to a very charismatic performance by Robinson. Between his portrayal and the sounds of pistols and Thompson submachine guns, the movie was a sensory revelation and literalized the violence that had been suggested purely by visuals in such silent gangster classics as Josef Von Sternberg's Underworld (1927), itself yet another telling of a version of Capone's story. The language was also something newly coarse and bracing in movies, at a point when talkies were only a couple of years old. There's also a slightly homoerotic undertone to aspects of the character relationships that managed to get past the censors: Rico doesn't drink and seems uninterested in women; his fixation on Joe Massara, and his seeming competition for Massara's loyalty with the latter's fiancée, are couched in what seem like almost romantic terms; and his feeling of betrayal when Massara says he wants to leave the mob to get married seem almost more appropriate to someone caught in a romantic triangle. This is all made especially vivid when Rico laments not having killed Massara, admitting that he's been undone over "liking a guy too much." It's all nearly as striking as some of the more pointed psychological elements in subsequent gangster movies, including Tony Camonte's incestuous fixation on his own sister in Scarface (1932) and, at the far end of the cycle, Cody Jarrett's mother-fixation in White Heat (1949). ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

Douglas Fairbanks Jr. made his talkie debut in the low-budget but imaginative "exploitationer" Party Girl. Fairbanks plays carefree young bachelor Jay Roundtree, the son of a wealthy industrialist. Though Jay is in love with his dad's secretary, his class consciousness compels him to keep his distance from her. One night, he joins his fraternity pals for a wild penthouse bash, where a group of "party girls" (a 1930 code word for prostitutes) encourage the guests (mostly "dirty old men" in tuxedoes) to wash their inhibitions away with bootleg liquor. Imagine Jay's surprise when, in the course of the evening, he discovers that his office sweetheart was once a party girl herself -- though that's nothing compared to what he discovers about his own father! Though economically produced, Party Girl contains some astounding visual effects, including a hydraulic "car lift" which transports the revellers to their secret rendezvous and a remarkably convincing suicidal plunge from a skyscraper. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Set during World War I, The Dawn Patrol is a study of the pressures and pitfalls of authority. A British Royal Flying Corp squadron commander (Neil Hamilton) is compelled by the higher-ups to send his boys out in dangerous, rickety aircraft. He is tormented by the responsibility, but does his duty as prescribed, and is branded a "butcher" by his top pilot (Richard Barthelmess). Hamilton is transferred, and with grim glee hands his command over to Barthelmess. Suddenly Barthelmess finds himself as much an unwilling "butcher" as a predecessor, and in exercising his authority he is alienated from his pilot buddies. Things come to a head when Barthelmess sends the brother of his best friend (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) on a suicide mission. The lad is killed, and the friendship is shattered. To make amends, Barthelmess gets Fairbanks drunk and flies the next mission himself--and is shot down while in battle with the fearsome German ace Von Richter. Now more understanding of his fallen companion, Fairbanks takes over command of the squadron. Because of the 1938 remake of the same title, the 1930 Dawn Patrol has been retitled Flight Commander for television. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Basically a filmed vaudeville presentation, The Show of Shows was Warner Bros.' entry in the "all star, all talking, all singing and all dancing" sweepstakes of 1929. Though slightly better than MGM's Hollywood Revue of 1929, the Warners entry pales in comparison to Fox Movietone Follies of 1929 and Paramount on Parade, due mainly to the film's master of ceremonies, the insufferable Frank Fay. Some of the individual acts seen in Show of Shows were pretty good, notably Winnie Lightner's delightful Singing in the Bathtub (a spoof of Hollywood Revue of 1929's Singin' in the Rain) and John Barrymore's brilliant rendition of Richard III's soliloquy from Shakespeare's Henry VI. Also easy to take was "Floradora Sextette," featuring such luminaries as Myrna Loy, Patsy Ruth Miller and cross-eyed comedian Ben Turpin, and "Eight Sister Acts," including such Hollywood siblings as Dolores and Helene Costello, Sally Blane and Loretta Young and Shirley Mason and Viola Dana (also teamed in this number are Ann Sothern and Marion Byron, who were not sisters). But for the most part, the acts are on a par with "Skull and Crossbones," a boring production number showcasing entertainer Ted Lewis, and "Recitations," a one-joke affair in which three different anecdotes (related by Frank Fay, Louis Fazenda, Lloyd Hamilton and Bea Lillie) are melded into one. Show of Shows was originally released in two-color Technicolor but now exists only in black in white, save for the "Chinese Fantasy" number featuring crooner Nick Lucas and Warner Bros. contractee Myrna Loy. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In this crime drama, the girls of an escort service get into trouble with the police. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

This follow-up to MGM's 1928 hit Our Dancing Daughters reunites the female stars of the earlier film: Joan Crawford (in her last silent film) and Anita Page. Crawford is engaged to Douglas Fairbanks Jr. (her real-life husband at the time), but both she and her fiance fall in love with other people before the wedding takes place. Fairbanks Jr. renders Anita Page pregnant, but goes through with his wedding to Crawford all the same. Meanwhile, Crawford romances diplomat Rod La Rocque, partly in the hopes of advancing Doug's career, but mostly out of boredom. At any other studio, the romantic intrigues of Our Modern Maidens would be played out in small living rooms and cozy apartment houses. But MGM had a positive mania for placing its stars in the biggest, draftiest mansions possible, then dressing them to the nines in expensive costumes designed by the studio's own fashion arbiter Adrian. Our Modern Maidens proved successful, spawning a third in this loosely constructed series, Our Blushing Brides (one contemporary critic wondered aloud if the next film would be Our Dizzy Divorcees). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The "modern" mother in this modest melodrama released by Columbia was played by Helene Chadwick, a minor screen vamp of the later silent era. Chadwick played Adele Dayton, a Broadway star whose daughter, Mildred (Barbara Kent), is reared in rural Massachusetts by Maizie and John (Ethel Grey Terry and Alan Roscoe). Adele often visits but is prohibited from telling Mildred the truth of her parentage. On one such visit, Adele becomes infatuated with Mildred's handsome boyfriend, struggling playwright David Starke (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.), who she brings to New York. On opening night of David's new play, Mildred blithely walks in on a romantic embrace between Adele and David and is both shocked and hurt. Realizing she is ruining her daughter's happiness, Adele sacrifices her own love by suddenly acting cold and indifferent toward the young man who soon returns, older but wiser, to Mildred. A dreary potboiler, Modern Mothers was written by Peter Milne, a former film reviewer who should have known better. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

Presently unavailable for public reappraisal, the biting and cynical melodrama Power of the Press would seem to be a precursor to such Frank Capra talkies as Platinum Blonde and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. Cub reporter Clem Rogers (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) wants a "big scoop" more than anything else in life. Alas, he stumbles onto a hot news story that implicates his sweetheart Jane Atwill (Jobyna Ralston), daughter of mayor candidate Atwill (Edwards Davis), in a murder. Putting his job and his future on the line, Clem endeavors to help Jane prove her innocence, and together they begin to see a connection between the murder of the district attorney and the political ambitions of her father's political rival. Curiously, Capra never mentions Power of the Press in his autobiography. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The titular "toilers" are three coal-mining pals: Steve (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.), Toby (Wade Boteler), and Butch (Robert Ryan -- and no, not that Robert Ryan). While Toby and Butch fritter away their paychecks on booze and dames, Steve settles down when he falls in love with Mary (Jobyna Ralston). Alas, on the day of his wedding, Steve and his two buddies are among the dozen or so miners trapped in a cave-in. In addition to its well-staged "underground" scenes, The Toilers boasted an impressive musical score, courtesy of the RCA Photophone recording process. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Also known as Women Love Diamonds, this MGM picture was to have been a Greta Garbo vehicle, but when Garbo went on strike for a higher salary the film was deferred to contractee Pauline Starke. The story concerns the beautiful mistress (Starke) of an elderly millionaire (Lionel Barrymore), who falls in love with younger, handsomer Douglas Fairbanks Jr. Upon announcing his intention to marry Starke, Moore is told flatly that such a union is impossible: it turns out that the girl is of illegitimate birth. But Starke proves that she has more inner nobility than anyone else in the family when she selflessly acts as surrogate mother to the children of mortally injured chauffeur Owen Moore. It seems fairly certain that, by refusing to appear in Women Love Diamonds, Garbo didn't hurt her career one teeny bit. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Though Is Zat So? was playwright/actor James Gleason's Broadway breakthrough, Gleason himself did not appear in the first film version. The stars of this 7-reel silent are George O'Brien as boxer Ed Chick Cowan, Edmund Lowe as Cowan's manager Hap Hurley (the Gleason part) and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as young millionaire G. Clinton Blackburn. Befriending the naïve Blackburn, Cowan and Hurley save the young man from the mercenary machinations of his brother-in-law (Cyril Chadwick). While the stage version relied upon snappy patter for most of its laughs, the screen version concentrates on visual humor (as indeed it had to). As for James Gleason, he would not step before the cameras until the advent of talkies. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The titular "man bait" is svelte shopgirl Madge Dreyer (Marie Prevost), who can't convince her customers and male co-workers to keep their hands to themselves. When she rebuffs the advances of her boss, Madge is fired, whereupon she finds work at a dime-a-dance joint. Here she meets and falls in love with young Jeff Sanford (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.), who -- surprise! -- turns out to be the son of Madge's ex-boss. Though the rest of Jeff's family disapproves of his choice in women, his brother Gerald (Kenneth Thomson) is delighted -- he'd like to spend some quality time with Madge himself. In a wholly expected development, Madge ends up with Gerald, while Jeff dutifully returns to his society fiancee. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Padlocked began as a serial for Cosmopolitan magazine, written by Rex Beach. After only a couple of chapters were published, Famous Players Lasky bought the rights to the story, reportedly for $100,000. Why the studio would pay so much for this utterly common (at least for its era) narrative is a mystery. It involves a minister/reformer (Noah Beery) who is so self-righteous that he sends his own daughter (Lois Moran) to a reformatory. Rebelling against her father's unreasonable strictness, she runs off to the big city and becomes a cabaret performer. The reformer has to reform himself if he wants to save his daughter from perdition and big-city womanizers. This is not one of director Allan Dwan's more distinguished films. ~ Janiss Garza, Rovi