Bryan Foy Movies

The silent comedy feature College stars Buster Keaton as a scholarly young man who doesn't know beans about sports. When he arrives in college, Buster finds that all the Big Men on Campus are jocks. To impress pretty coed Anne Cornwall, Buster tries and fails to join all the school teams. Even when he attempts to take a job at the campus soda fountain, Buster is a washout. Through the kindness of dean Snitz Edwards, Keaton is placed on the varsity rowing team where, despite several clumsy moments, he manages to win the big race. This infuriates his athletic rival Harold Goodwin, who seizes Cornwall and runs off with her. In racing to her rescue, Buster is compelled to repeat all the sports activities at which he'd previously failed--and does so, magnificently. He bursts into Goodwin's dorm room and saves Cornwall from the usual worse-than-death fate. Hero and heroine kiss--at which point this lighthearted film takes a sudden, chilling turn. As always, Buster Keaton performs his own stunts in College, except for the pole-vaulting bit, which was accomplished by Olympic champ Lee Barnes. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Contrary to popular belief, no one speaks into microphones hidden in vases in this, the first 100% "all-talking" feature film, although an oversized telephone prop is rather conveniently placed near the actors in one long sequence. Although not nearly as crude as its tattered reputation, Lights of New York is far from thrilling, however. Not so much due to the later so maligned sound-on-disc Vitaphone system, but mainly because this was really a quickie B-Movie helmed by a first time director, Bryan Foy, who seems to have been little more than an inefficient traffic cop. Not that there is all that much traffic in this stage-bound melodrama about Eddie (Cullen Landis), a young kid from Upstate New York conned into fronting for a speakeasy on Broadway. There is the inevitable chorus-girl with a heart of gold (top-billed Helene Costello), the downtrodden floozy (Gladys Brockwell), and a cop-killing gangster boss, Hawk Miller (Wheeler Oakman), whom screenwriters Hugh Herbert and Murray Roth furnished with the film's one memorable line. With the cops closing in on him, Hawk needs a patsy. Planting contraband in poor Eddie's shop, the gang leader then instructs his henchmen to "take. . .him. . .for. . .a. . .ride!" Oakman speaks this much parodied line slowly and in a stentorian manner, lest the audience should fail to understand the grave implications. But Eddie escapes his "ride," and there is a final confrontation. Just as all hope seems lost, Hawk is killed by persons unknown. The murder weapon, however, belongs to the chorus girl and she is about to be arrested by no-nonsense Detective Crosby (Robert Elliott), when the real murderer -- the downtrodden floozy -- gives herself up. The performances in this historic talking picture run the gamut from inept (Costello, Landis) to over-the-top (Brockwell) to adequate (Oakman, comic sidekick Eugene Palette). Perhaps due to the newness of it all, the actors keep flubbing their line -- the poor Miss Costello being the worst offender, with Tom Dugan, a veteran supporting player, a close second. Why Warner Bros. should have chosen this pedestrian gangster melodrama as the first full-length talking picture remains a mystery. The best explanation is that the studio was merely testing the waters. Rather than a prestige project like the previous year's groundbreaking part-talkie The Jazz Singer, Lights of New York was produced for a paltry $23,000 and released not on a reserved-seat basis but in a mere grind house. But to everyone's surprise, the film went on to gross over a million dollars in its first run, proving once and for all that talkies had come to stay. Today, Lights of New York remains a museum piece but despite its tattered reputation, the gangster melodrama is really no worse than the majority of low-budget early talkies. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, Rovi

To sophisticated filmgoers of 1929, the designation "queen of the nightclubs" could mean only one person: Colorful Manhattan speakeasy proprietress Texas Guinan, of "Hello, Sucker!" fame. More or less playing herself, the brash, blowsy Guinan is cast as Tex Malone, a New York nightery owner who hires innocent young songstress Bee Wallace (Lila Lee) to perform in Tex's club. This effectively breaks up Bee's vaudeville act with hoofer Eddie Parr (Eddie Foy Jr., the brother of director Bryan Foy). Feeling put-upon, Eddie is the most likely suspect when Tex's close friend Don Holland (John Davidson) is murdered. In the course of the trial, Tex discovers that Eddie is actually her own son. Without ever revealing her relationship with Eddie to the world, Tex manages to prove that the actual killer was rival club owner Andy Quindland (played by veteran movie "drunk" Arthur Housman, in a rare sober characterization). George Raft makes his film debut by re-creating the "hot" Charleston dance solo that first brought him Broadway fame (the details of Raft's move to Hollywood, and his friendships with such gangsters as Owney Madden and Bugsy Siegel, would later be fictionalized in Francis Ford Coppola's 1984 production The Cotton Club). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This is the original German-language version of the early-talkie Warner Bros. drama The Royal Box. Based on the Alexandre Dumas stageplay Kean, the plot concentrates on famed 19th-century British thespian Edmund Kean and his clandestine romance with Countess Toerek, the paramour of the Prince of Wales. The near-surrealist conclusion finds Kean going crazy during a performance of Hamlet, revealing his secret affair with the Countess for all to hear -- including the Prince. Alexander Moissi stars as Kean, with Camilla Horn as his true love Alice, Elsa Ersi as the Countess, and William F. Schoeller as the Prince; also on hand in a bit part is the great Sig Rumann. The simultaneously-filmed English version of The Royal Box was briefly released to television in the 1950s. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

A wimpy king is forced to take responsibility for his little North Sea island kingdom after his iron-fisted wife goes on a vacation to the US in this comedy. Soon after she leaves, his subjects launch a revolt and the flighty fellow must quickly figure out what to do. Things get worse when his daughter tells him that she plans to marry a commoner. Fortunately, once the king makes his decisions, things settle down and happiness ensues. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Were it not for the diligence of old-time radio buffs and Three Stooges fans, the 1933 Universal epic Myrt and Marge might have remained in (deserved) obscurity. The film was inspired by The Story of Myrt and Marge, a popular radio serial which ran from 1931 to 1946. Repeating their radio roles, Myrtle Vail and her real-life daughter Donna Damarel star as sisters Myrt Minter and Marge Spear (Spear-Minter, get it?), chorus girls in the long-running Broadway show Hayfield's Pleasures. For plot purposes, Myrt and Marge spend most of the film mired in a third-rate theatrical troupe which only makes it to Broadway in the final reel. The story is maudlin and predictable in the extreme, relieved only by the antics of the Three Stooges -- Moe, Larry and Curly -- and their vaudeville mentor Eddie Foy Jr. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The hero of The Pay-Off is somewhat denser than usual, making his ultimate victory all the more amazing. James Dunn plays newspaper columnist Joe McCoy, who is inveigled by his no-good wife Maxine (Claire Dodd) to become the dupe of crooked sports promoter Marty Bleuler (Alan Dinehart). So devoted is Joe to Maxine that he's willing to overlook the fact that she's committed murder to achieve her own goals. But the guilty must be punished eventually, and Maxine comes to an ignoble end, leaving Joe free to marry his co-worker Connie (Patricia Ellis), who's loved him all along. This 1936 The Pay-Off is not a remake of the 1930 film of the same name. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Though Busby Berkeley is the director of I Live for Love, there isn't a dancer or dance number anywhere to be seen. Dolores Del Rio stars as hot-tempered South American stage favorite Donna Alvarez, who is brought to America to headline a Broadway show. The film details the backstage romance between Donna and her handsome co-star Roger Kerry (played by Everett Marshall, an opera star who'd last been seen on-screen in 1930's Dixiana). They fight, make up, fight again, make up again, and fight and make up again. And that's all, folks. The film's singular highlight is the barbershop-quartet lampoon "A Man Must Shave". ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Wallace Ford plays Terry McCall, a small-town baseball star with a monumental ego. Terry's gift for self-aggrandizement alienates him from everyone in town, including his waitress sweetheart May Malone (Barbara Kent). After suffering a concussion during a baseball game, Terry goes blind, whereupon he bitterly retreats from the world. Fortunately, May's kid brother Billy (Dickie Moore), who has always idolized Terry, helps the now-humbled ballplayer to find a reason for living. That Swell-Head was obviously filmed several years before its 1935 release is proven by the presence in the cast of former baseball pro "Turkey" Mike Donlin, who'd been dead since 1933. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Jailbreak is a formula Warners "B" with all the attendant stereotypes. Dick Purcell plays a convict accused of murdering a fellow prisoner. Craig Reynolds, a temporarily incarcerated reporter, sets about to prove Purcell's innocence. June Travis is the "girl on the outside," awaiting the release of Reynolds and acting as his conduit to the "free" world. To no one's surprise, prison-flick veteran Barton MacLaine is also in the picture--but to everyone's surprise, he's one of the good guys. Jailbreak was remade in 1942 as Murder in the Big House, which represented one of the earliest screen appearances of Van Johnson. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

The all-purpose title Man Hunt was trotted out for this 1936 Warner Bros. "B". Aging country newspaper editor Chic Sale is laughed off by the rest of his community for his tall tales. When an escaped Public Enemy (Ricardo Cortez) shows up in the vicinity, Sale decides to prove his worth by tracking down the criminal himself. The G-Men on the case tell Sale to mind his own business, but it is the old codger who collars Cortez and drags him in. No one made gangster pictures as well as Warner Bros., so even a low-priority item like Man Hunt has its moments. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi