Howard R. Hughes Movies

One of America's most fascinating public figures is profiled in this documentary. As an inventor, entrepreneur, and philanthropist, Hughes lived a varied and famous life. He inherited his grand oil fortune at the age of 17 and quickly took off for Hollywood, but the film industry wasn't Hughes' only interest. He excelled in aviation, having set a speed record in an airplane of his own design. One of his inventions, the push-up bra, re-energized women's fashions. Through archival footage and interviews, this release traces the path Hughes took from stardom to self-imposed obscurity. ~ Sarah Ing, Rovi

His Kind of Woman directed by veteran John Farrow, is a convoluted mystery thriller which tries unsuccessfully to combine slapstick comedy with excessive violence, resulting in a film that depends more on stereotypes than on plot development. Nick (Raymond Burr), is a deported gang boss who needs to get back to the United States to run his operation. Dan Miller (Robert Mitchum) is a hard-up guy, who is persuaded, both by a series of beatings and a substantial sum of money, to sell his identity to Nick. Lenore (Jane Russell) a singer, poses as a heiress, trying to marry a millionaire. They all meet up in a resort in Mexico where Nick intends to have plastic surgery to alter his looks. There, a number of double-crosses, shootings, and chases all culminate in an exciting confrontation aboard ship. His Kind of Woman, a Howard Hughes production designed to be a showcase for Jane Russell, is entertaining when viewed as a comedy. As a serious film-noir thriller, it lacks suspense and depth. However, the film has its moments, and Robert Mitchum is in his element as the loner anti-hero. ~ Linda Rasmussen, Rovi

Absent from films since 1938 (except as producer of a brace of RKO Radio features), silent-screen comedy favorite Harold Lloyd returned before the cameras in The Sin of Harold Diddlebock. The project began as a labor of love between Lloyd and the brilliant, innovative producer/writer/director Preston Sturges. Though these two comedy geniuses eventually had a stylistic falling out, resulting in an uneven, spasmodically dreary film, on the whole Harold Diddlebock is well worth having. Sturges cleverly opens the picture with the final reel of Lloyd's silent classic The Freshman(1925), in which the drudge of the college football team makes good and scores the winning touchdown. The story proper begins in the locker room, where football hero Harold Diddlebock (Lloyd, looking three decades younger than his 53 years) is impulsively offered a job by banker J.E. Wagglebury (Raymond Walburn). Taking his place at his new desk and festooning his walls with inspirational homilies, Harold starts to work, supremely confident that he's poised on the brink of bigger things. Twenty-three years pass: In 1946, a weary, stoop-shouldered Harold is still at the same desk at the same job, his dreams of success but a dim memory. Summarily fired by the pompous Wagglebury ("You have not only ceased to go forward, you have gone backward"), Harold collects his final paycheck, cleans out his desk, and bids farewell to office girl Miss Otis (Frances Ramsden), all of whose older sisters had previously been Harold's sweethearts. Wandering aimlessly on the street with his severance pay in hand, Harold is spotted by a dessicated street hustler named Wormy (Jimmy Conlin), who inveigles the newly fired clerk to join him at a nearby bar. Informed that Harold has never taken a drink in his life, the bartender (Edgar Kennedy) lights up and declares, "Sir, you rouse the artist in me!" With great ceremonial flourish, the bartender concocts a potent beverage called the Diddlebock. Harold takes one sip of the brew, lets out a yell, and immediately loses all the inhibitions that have kept him from advancing himself in the past two decades. With Wormy in tow, Harold goes on a wild spending and carousing spree, totally losing track of an entire day-and-a-half.

At the end of his revelry, the hung-over Harold is awakened by his sister (Margaret Hamilton), who informs him that he's bought a garish new wardrobe, a ten-gallon hat, and goodness knows what else. He soon finds out what else when he ventures into the street and is informed that he's bought a horse-drawn cab (with driver!) -- and a circus, complete with hungry lions. Quickly formulating a plan to get rid of the circus at a substantial profit, Harold decides to elicit bids from the town's various bankers, bringing Jackie the Lion along with him so that the bank guards won't stop him at the door. All of this leads to a wild recreation of Lloyd's skyscraper-teetering gags from his silent days, a noisy episode at the local jail, and a romantic tête-à-tête with Miss Otis, who reveals at the very end how Harold really spent his "missing" Wednesday! Though it tested well upon its first release, Sin of Harold Diddlebock was abruptly withdrawn from circulation by its co-producer Howard R. Hughes, who spent four years reediting and sometimes reshooting the film before finally releasing it through RKO as Mad Wednesday. Both this version and the original Sin of Harold Diddlebock still exist; while the earlier version is undeniably richer in comic invention and characterization, the shortened Mad Wednesday works better in front of an audience. Neither version completely fulfills the potential of its premise, however. Though not to be missed, this final Harold Lloyd vehicle pales in comparison with his vintage silent comedies. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In this romantic comedy a demanding French actress is upset because she has not recently received the proper adulation from WW I Allies. To calm her down, a meeting is arranged between the actress and a charming Army official in Italy. Initially both of them resist the artificially designed encounter, but soon the inevitable occurs and they fall in love. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Completed in mid-1930, Scarface, based on Armitage Trail's novel of the same name, might have been the first of the great talkie gangster flicks, but it was held up for release until after that honor was jointly usurped by Little Caesar and Public Enemy. Paul Muni stars as prohibition-era mobster Tony Camonte, a character obviously patterned on Al Capone (whose nickname was "Scarface"). The homicidal Camonte ruthlessly wrests control of the bootlegging racket from his boss, Johnny Lovo (Osgood Perkins), and claims Lovo's mistress, Poppy (Karen Morley), in the bargain. But while Poppy satisfies him sexually, Tony has a soft spot in his heart only for his sister Cesca (Ann Dvorak). The film's finale is one of the longest and bloodiest of the 1930s, maintaining suspense and concern for the characters involved even though Muni has deliberately done nothing to make Tony likeable to audience. The grimness of Scarface is leavened by a few choice moments of black humor. Forced to leave a stage production of Rain in order to commit a murder, Tony returns to his theater seat and anxiously asks his buddies how the play came out. Some of the film's funniest moments belong to Vince Barnett as the mentally deficient, illiterate gangster secretary, who at one juncture gets so mad at a caller on the phone that he shoots the receiver. Scarface features a famous "'X' Marks The Spot" logo, inspired by news photos of gangland murders: whenever a character is killed, the letter "X" appears on screen in one form or another. Example: When a rival gangster (played by Boris Karloff) is killed at a bowling alley, the camera cuts to his bowling ball knocking down all the pins -- a strike, denoted, of course, by an "X." Producer Howard R. Hughes couldn't release Scarface until he toned down some of the violence, reshot certain scenes to avoid libel suits, added the subtitle "The Shame of the Nation" to the opening credits, and shoehorned in new scenes showing upright Italian-Americans banding together to wipe out gangsterism. After its first run, Scarface was completely withdrawn from distribution on Hughes' orders; the film would not be seen again on a widespread basis until it was reissued by Universal in 1979, shorn of 8 of its original 99 minutes. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This first of four film versions of the Ben Hecht/Charlrd MacArthur Broadway hit stars Adolphe Menjou as explosive Chicago newspaper-editor Walter Burns and Pat O'Brien as his star reporter Hildy Johnson. Hildy is on the verge of getting married and retiring from Burns' dirty little tabloid, but he agrees to cover one last story: the politically motivated execution of convicted cop killer Earl Williams (George E. Stone). Thanks to the stupidity of the police, Williams manages to escape, and Johnson hides the wounded fugitive in a rolltop desk in the prison pressroom. Burns enters the scene, senses a swell story (and also a means of keeping Johnson on his payroll), and conspires with Johnson to keep Williams out of sight until they can secure an exclusive interview. Burns will do anything to keep Johnson on the scene, including having the reporter's future mother-in-law kidnapped. Complicating matters are Johnson's fiancée Peggy (Mary Brian), Williams' girlfriend Molly Malloy (Mae Clarke), and the corrupt mayor (James Gordon) and sheriff (Clarence C. Wilson), who have railroaded Williams to the death house in order to win votes and are now trying to suppress the news that the governor has commuted Williams' sentence. The Front Page was remade by Howard Hawks in 1939 as His Girl Friday, with the symbiotic relationship between Burns and Johnson changed to a sexual one by transforming Hildy Johnson into a woman (played by Rosalind Russell) with Cary Grant as her old flame Walter. It was again remade by Billy Wilder in 1974 with Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau, Carol Burnett, and a young Susan Sarandon. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This solid gangster flick from director Lewis Milestone was based on a stage play and earned a Best Picture nomination at the Academy Awards. Louis Wolheim stars as Nick Scarsi, a tough-guy bootlegger with political connections that enrage a local police captain, McQuigg (Thomas Meighan). In order to get rid of his enemy, Nick use his influence to get McQuigg transferred to an out-of-the-way duty post, which only further inflames the determined cop's animosity. In the meantime, Nick's brother Joe (George Stone) is about to get himself in trouble with a beautiful singer, Helen (Marie Prevost), and Nick tries to prevent a match-up by humiliating her at a party. After Joe kills an innocent pedestrian in a car accident, he's arrested under a phony name. To get even with the brothers, Helen alerts the police that Joe is a big-time gangster's brother, putting Nick, who has also killed a police officer, at the mercy of McQuigg and a district attorney (Sam De Grasse). Tragically, stars Wolheim and Prevost would both be dead by the early 1930's, he of cancer and she of starvation and alcoholism. ~ Karl Williams, Rovi

This sentimental comedy begins when four middle-aged actors jointly adopt an orphaned baby girl, raising her in a backstage milieu. The girl grows up to become Doris Poole (Betty Bronson), and it is hoped by her foster daddies that she will become an actress herself. When Doris falls in love with wealthy Ted Potter (Lawrence Gray), her four surrogate parents stage an elaborate charade to convince Ted's snobbish mother Anastasia (Louise Dresser) that Doris is of good breeding. The girl wants no part of the hoax and confesses all to Ted's mom, whereupon Ted is bundled off to Europe "for his own good." But the four adoptive fathers arrange another little "drama" to get Doris on board Ted's ship. Ziegfeld Follies headliner Raymond Hitchcock steals the show (no small task in this ham-infested effort) as a phony butler. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi