Harris Brown Movies

In this lively musical a chorine hooks a successful businessman and becomes the snob she thinks he expects her to be. This is a problem, because he fell in love with her because she was so earthy and fun. Now that she has become refined and aloof, he is bored. Fortunately, just as he is leaving, the plucky girl sees the error of her ways and marital bliss ensues. Songs include: "Ain't Misbehavin'", "The Dixie Mambo", "I Love That Rickey, Tickey, Tickey", and "A Little Love Can Go a Long Way". ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Pride of St. Louis is the story of one of baseball's most colorful characters, Jerome Herman "Dizzy" Dean. While playing amateur ball in 1928, Dizzy (Dan Dailey) is hired by the St. Louis Cardinals. He spends a year or so playing with the Cards' Texas farm team, during which time he woos and wins department-store clerk Pat Nash (Joanne Dru, who ironically was the real-life aunt of pro baseball player Pete LaCock!) Once in the majors as a pitcher, Dean is joined on the Cards lineup by his younger brother Paul (Richard Crenna), whom the press nicknames "Daffy." Through a combination of spectacular ballplaying and zany publicity stunts, Dizzy and Daffy become nationwide favorites. Their popularity really soars after they help the Cardinals win the 1934 World Series. After this triumph, things begin to go downhill for Dizzy, who endures several injuries and finally "loses" his pitching arm. Dean is rescued from a binge of self-pity by his old friend Johnny Kendall (Richard Hylton), whose dad is a brewery executive. Johnny convinces his dad to sponsor a series of St. Louis Browns radio broadcasts, and to hire Dizzy as a play-by-play announcer. Ol' Diz gets in a lot of trouble with local schoolteachers because of his eccentric grammar ("he slud into third base," etc.) but things eventually turn out A-OK. Pride of St. Louis takes any number of liberties with the facts, but the real Dizzy Dean didn't care so long as 20th Century-Fox ponied up a huge sum of money for the rights to his life story: "Jeez," he said at the time, "they're gonna give me 50,000 smackers just fer livin'!" Future NBC news commentator Chet Huntley shows up in one of the closing scenes as sportscaster Tom Weaver. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Robert E. McEnroe's whimsical Broadway play The Silver Whistle was adapted to suit the talents of Clifton Webb in Mr. Belvedere Rings the Bell. It all begins when "super genius" Lynn Belvedere (Webb) briefly halts a lecture tour to bring some happiness into the lives of a gloomy senior citizens' home. To gain entry into the establishment, the virile, fiftysomething Belvedere claims to be 77 years old. The rest of the inmates are invigorated by the presence of so youthful a "septuagenarian," and before long everyone has taken a new lease on life. Belvedere also finds time to smooth the romantic path for Reverend Watson (Hugh Marlowe) and his fiancée Miss Tripp (Joanne Dru). When Mr. Belvedere's subterfuge is found out, the residents are momentarily dismayed, until they realize all the good their visitor has done. With Clifton Webb in charge (and with an able assist by supporting player Zero Mostel as Belvedere's business manager), Mr. Belvedere Rings the Bell is never as treacly or maudlin as it might be under different circumstances. Future Ward Cleaver Hugh Beaumont shows up unbilled as a cop in the opening scene. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Golden Girl is the life story (sort of) of legendary 19th-century American entertainer Lotta Crabtree. The daughter of a luckless gambler (James Barton), young Lotta (Mitzi Gaynor) supports herself and her dad by singing and dancing in mining camps during the California Gold Rush of 1849. She carries on her activities into Indian territory, where she saves her scalp by winning over her Native American audiences. During the Civil War, Lotta falls in love with a dashing Confederate spy (Dale Robertson), with whom she is briefly reunited in San Francisco before his inevitable demise. The finale is one of those "smiling through the tears" contrivances that always worked so well in musical films. Golden Girl was produced for 20th Century-Fox by entertainer George Jessel. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

A pleasant comedy with serious undertones, Free for All stars Robert Cummings as erstwhile inventor Christopher Parker. Hoping to secure a patent on his latest invention--a formula that turns water into gasoline--Parker is flummoxed by yards and yards of governmental and bureaucratic red tape. He also faces formidable opposition in the form of avaricious oil-company executive Blair (Ray Collins). Thankfully, Peterson can occasionally seek comfort in the arms of Alva (Ann Blyth), fortuitously the daughter of sympathetic patent-office employe Mr. Abbott (Percy Kilbride). Within a few years, the heat generated by the House UnAmerican Activities Committee would preclude the on-screen depiction of a villainous oil executive (this particular stereotype would, however, stage a comeback during the energy crises of the 1970s). Outside of its satirical jibes, Free for All scores its biggest laughs when concentrating on the various eccentrics (Percy Helton, Harry Antrim et. al.) dwelling in Mr Abbott's gadget-laden boarding house. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Young model Jean Dexter is knocked unconscious and drowned in her own bathtub in her Manhattan apartment, and a lot of jewelry that she supposedly owned is missing. The Naked City is actually about six days in the life of New York City that coincide with the murder and the subsequent investigation by Lt. Dan Muldoon (Barry Fitzgerald) and Detective James Halloran (Don Taylor). The account of their work, and the workings of the New York City police department, is interspersed with brief vignettes about the life of the city around them, and, especially, the reaction of residents to the murder and the newspaper reports of the progress of the case. Muldoon and Halloran first must determine why she was killed, which may (or may not) have to do with how a woman with a minimal income came by the jewelry -- was it a love affair gone bad (and if so, with whom?), or something more complex and sinister? Retracing the final 18 months of the victim's life, their investigation reaches out to a mysterious "Philip Henderson" with whom she was supposedly linked romantically, and to Frank Niles (Howard Duff), who's a little too fast-and-loose with the truth when he doesn't have to be to make Muldoon comfortable; to make things more complicated, Muldoon determines that there were at least two men involved with the actual commission of the murder. The victim turns out to have led a wild life, filled with men and parties, and was tied up with several sordid figures. Their investigation carries them into the highest and lowest ends of New York's social strata to find the killer, and it turns out there are a lot of interlocking reasons why at least three men might've wanted her dead. In the process, we get glimpses of the private lives of the detectives, which was something new in movies at this time; in the midst of all of this activity, the writers set up a fascinating contrast, in adjacent scenes, between Halloran, his wife, and their young son looking toward the future, with the parents of the dead woman, looking back with bitter regret and recriminations -- no movie ever presented in more subtle fashion the contrast between the zeitgeist of the 1930s and that of the postwar era. The final chase on the Williamsburg Bridge is one of the classic pieces of suspense cinema, as the armed and desperate killer races up the walkway past children playing and adults strolling, while detectives close in on foot from behind and patrol cars come up from ahead, with crowded subways rolling past, and then into the superstructure of the bridge for a stand-off and shootout. Sharp-eyed viewers will spot future character leads Paul Ford, James Gregory, John Marley, Kathleen Freeman, and Arthur O'Connell as well as familiar faces Tom Pedi, John Randolph, Molly Picon, and Walter Burke in the supporting cast. Cinematographer William Daniels and editor Paul Weatherwax won Oscars for their work, but awards might just as easily have been presented to director Jules Dassin, writers Albert Maltz and Malvin Wald, composers Miklos Rozsa and Frank Skinner, and, most notably, to producer/narrator Mark Hellinger, who intoned the closing monologue, which opens with one of the most famous tag lines in movie history: "There are eight million stories in the Naked City." ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi