1001 Movies You Must See...1900-1939

The Marx Brothers Silver Screen Collection marks the first reappearance on DVD of the comedy quartet's original five movies for Paramount, released between 1929 and 1933, since the old Image Entertainment discs were discontinued in 2000. This is a handsome volume, not only in its packaging but its mastering and the overall treatment of the movies themselves. The original Image DVDs were straight conversions of the laserdisc versions of the five films, which varied greatly in quality. Of the five, The Cocoanuts, made in 1929, was the most improved on laserdisc, while Animal Crackers, made in 1930, which had been suppressed by legal complications for decades, was the poorest of the lot in condition -- none of those discs ever really challenged the limits of DVD resolution. That's all changed on this set.

The Cocoanuts has been improved in this edition, so that it looks rather newer than it did on television in the1960s and early '70s, but there is one sequence -- starting at approximately 49 minutes in -- that looks scratched and grainy, like a badly preserved 1929 movie; luckily, the audio is consistent throughout, including the performance of "The Monkey Doodle-Do." The image improves dramatically at 61 minutes in and pretty much stays that way, with some beautiful clarity (within the context of this film) achieved in Basil Ruysdael's "Shirt Song" sequence at 80 minutes in, and Chico Marx's spot at the piano at just under 90 minutes in. The movie gets 18 chapters, which is reasonably generous, and is presented in full-screen apart from the window-boxed opening credits. Animal Crackers (1930) comes complete with an original trailer that runs about two and a half minutes and looks as dark and grainy as the movie used to. And then there's the actual movie, which now looks and sounds amazing -- purely, simply amazing. The opening credits are still letterboxed, but damn if you can't hear every instrument in the main title sequence's big band music and in the whole rest of the score as well, like it's coming off of an audiophile CD. As for the image, the art deco set design for Mrs. Rittenhouse's estate now glows, and George Folsey's photography has a luster that hasn't been seen in connection with this movie in at least 50 years. Most of the blemishes and flaws in the film elements that marred the laserdisc have been fixed, and as a result, this could easily be the first real chance that any of us have had to see Animal Crackers properly since the 1930s. The presentation isn't flawless -- there are some shifts in density and other minor defects, and some scratches in Chico Marx's piano segment, but this is still worlds beyond what MCA-Universal was able to offer us on this movie even as late as 1992. This title, like the others in the package, comes with English and Spanish audio tracks and English, Spanish, and French subtitles.

Monkey Business (1931) always looked pretty good, and here it looks very good all the way through, and it sounds even better. There are no bonus materials -- evidently, the trailer hasn't survived -- and the movie gets the same 18-chapter breakdown as the earlier titles in the package. There is an optional Spanish-language track and optional selection of English, French, and Spanish subtitles. Horse Feathers (1932) actually doesn't look quite as good, with a certain amount of graininess in some of the shots. Tthe picture is extremely consistent throughout, however, and there is a decent-looking (if slightly strangely encoded) trailer. Finally, there is Duck Soup (1933), the crown jewel of the comedy team's Paramount library. It actually looks grainy in spots, especially early in the movie, and has moments with very slight framing problems, especially in the opening half-hour of the movie; the second half looks distinctly better, and the sound is consistently loud and sharp throughout. There is also a trailer that has been preserved off of an old VHS video master, to judge from the logo that pops up, that is dark and grainy enough to remind us of what the movie used to look and sound like on television.

The sixth disc illustrates the distinctly different approach that Universal has taken to the Marx Brothers movies that it owns, as from Warner Bros.' approach to the Marx Brothers titles that it controls. Warner included bonus audio commentary tracks and documentary features, whereas Universal has piled its special features onto the last disc, in the form of three clips from The Today Show: Harpo Marx's very funny mimed appearance in 1961, Groucho Marx's appearance from 1963 (on which both of them just keep breaking up the coterie of hosts), and Harpo's son William Marx from 1985, discussing the family and showing their home movies, on the occasion of the reprint of the autobiography Harpo Speaks. The Duck Soup clip illustrates what passed for an adequate print in 1985, faded and grainy, and William Marx gives a delightful account of his father's private life (he was a huge fan of Time for Beany); his talk is worth the price of the extra disc, while Groucho, in the earlier clip, shows what a wonderfully spontaneous comedic personality he still was in 1963. ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

Spanning 50 years, director John Ford's How Green Was My Valley revolves around the life of the Morgans, a Welsh mining family, as told through the eyes of its youngest child Huw (Roddy McDowall). Over the years, the family struggles to survive through unionization, strikes, and child abuse. As they do so, their hometown and its culture begins to slowly decline. Donald Crisp portrays Gwilym, the patriarch of the Morgan household, who dreams of a better life for young Huw. Based on the novel of the same name by Richard Llewellyn, How Green Was My Valley won five Academy Awards in 1941, including Best Director, Best Supporting Actor (Crisp), Best Art Director, Best Cinematography, and Best Picture (beating Citizen Kane). The book was later adapted into a 1975 BBC miniseries. ~ Matthew Tobey, Rovi

Though Rudyard Kipling's poem Gunga Din makes a swell recital piece, it cannot be said to have much of a plot. It's simply a crude cockney soldier's tribute to a native Indian water boy who remains at his job even after being mortally wounded. Hardly the sort of material upon which to build 118 minutes' worth of screen time-at least, it wasn't until RKO producer Pandro S. Berman decided to convert Gunga Din into an A-budgeted feature film. Now it became the tale of three eternally brawling British sergeants stationed in colonial India: Cutter (Cary Grant), McChesney (Victor McLaglen) and Ballantine (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.). Ballantine intends to break up the threesome by marrying lovely Emmy Stebbins (Joan Fontaine), while Cutter and McChesney begin hatching diabolical schemes to keep Ballantine in the army (if this plot element sounds a lot like something from the Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur play The Front Page, bear in mind that Hecht and McArthur shared writing credit on Gunga Din with Joel Sayre and Fred Guiol; also contributing to the screenplay, uncredited, was William Faulkner). All three sergeants are kept occupied with a native revolt fomented by the Thuggees, a fanatical religious cult headed by a Napoleonic Guru (Eduardo Ciannelli). Unexpectedly coming to the rescue of our three heroes-not to mention every white man, woman and child in the region-is humble water carrier Gunga Din (Sam Jaffe), who aspires to become the regimental trumpeter. Originally slated to be directed by Howard Hawks, Gunga Din was taken out of Hawks' hands when the director proved to be too slow during the filming of Bringing Up Baby. His replacement was George Stevens, who proved to be slower and more exacting than Hawks had ever been! ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Virtually a textbook example of Howard Hawks' "macho" mode, Only Angels Have Wings takes place high in the Peruvian Andes. Cary Grant heads a ramshackle airmail and freight service, forced to fly in the most perilous of weather conditions to the most treacherous of destinations. Facing death on a near-hourly basis, Grant and his flyers have adopted a casual, all-in-day's-work attitude towards mortality. If a pilot cracks up and dies, it's simply because he didn't have what it took, and that's that. Stranded showgirl Jean Arthur can't stand this cavalier attitude at first, but before long she becomes, in true Hawksian fashion, "one of the guys". Complicating the story is the presence of Richard Barthelmess, who has been persona non grata with the other pilots ever since his carelessness cost the life of one of their number. In addition to a surfeit of guilt, Barthelmess is saddled with a faithless wife, played by Rita Hayworth in her first important A-picture role. Hayworth makes a play for Grant, but he spurns her, finally realizing that, in spite of himself, he's in love with Arthur. Grant himself is riddled with guilt when near-blind pilot Thomas Mitchell insists upon taking on one final flight. Having lost his best friend, Grant drops his hard-bitten shell, and for the first time opens himself up emotionally to Arthur-which of course leads to a nail-biting climax wherein Arthur suffers mightily as Grant faces certain death. Scripted by Jules Furthman from a story by Hawks, Only Angels Have Wings is a treasure trove of terse, pithy dialogue: our favorite scene occurs when, upon discovering that he's about to die, Thomas Mitchell says he's often wondered how he'd react to imminent death-and, now that death is but a few moments away, he'd rather that no one else be around to witness his reaction. Though sometimes laid low by obvious miniatures, the aerial scenes in Only Angels Have Wings are by and large first-rate, earning a first-ever "best special effects" Oscar nomination for Roy Davidson and Edwin C. Hahn. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Although there were Westerns before it, Stagecoach quickly became a template for all movie Westerns to come. Director John Ford combined action, drama, humor, and a set of well-drawn characters in the story of a stagecoach set to leave Tonto, New Mexico for a distant settlement in Lordsburg, with a diverse set of passengers on board. Dallas (Claire Trevor) is a woman with a scandalous past who has been driven out of town by the high-minded ladies of the community. Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt) is the wife of a cavalry officer stationed in Lordsburg, and she's determined to be with him. Hatfield (John Carradine) is a smooth-talking cardsharp who claims to be along to "protect" Lucy, although he seems to have romantic intentions. Dr. Boone (Thomas Mitchell) is a self-styled philosopher, a drunkard, and a physician who's been stripped of his license. Mr. Peacock (Donald Meek) is a slightly nervous whiskey salesman (and, not surprisingly, Dr. Boone's new best friend). Gatewood (Berton Churchill) is a crooked banker who needs to get out of town. Buck (Andy Devine) is the hayseed stage driver, and Sheriff Wilcox (George Bancroft) is along to offer protection and keep an eye peeled for the Ringo Kid (John Wayne), a well-known outlaw who has just broken out of jail. While Wilcox does find Ringo, a principled man who gives himself up without a fight, the real danger lies farther down the trail, where a band of Apaches, led by Geronimo, could attack at any time. Stagecoach offers plenty of cowboys, Indians, shootouts, and chases, aided by Yakima Canutt's remarkable stunt work and Bert Glennon's majestic photography of Ford's beloved Monument Valley. It also offers a strong screenplay by Dudley Nichols with plenty of room for the cast to show its stuff. John Wayne's performance made him a star after years as a B-Western leading man, and Thomas Mitchell won an Oscar for what could have been just another comic relief role. Thousands of films have followed Stagecoach's path, but no has ever improved on its formula. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

Having proven her mettle with her still-astonishing propaganda epic Triumph of the Will, German filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl furthered her reputation with the two-part Olympia, an all-inclusive filmed record of the 1936 Berlin Olympics. In its original 220-minute form, the film was designed as a paean to Aryan superiority, likening the strong-limbed young German athletes with the godlike participants of the ancient Olympic games. By accident or design, however, the film transcends politics, resulting in an across-the-board tribute to all the Olympic partcipants -- even those whose racial makeup did not come up to the "pure" standards established by the Third Reich. This is especially true in the first portion of the film, in which black American runner Jessie Owens emerges as the star. The second half of the film is the more impressive technically, with Riefenstahl utilizing an astonishing variety of camera speeds and angles to record the diving competition. Working 16 hours a day, seven days a week, Riefenstahl and her staff were often denied desirable camera angles, forcing them to improvise with telephoto lenses; the results are often far more dramatically impressive than the up-close-and-personal approach taken by contemporary TV cameramen. After an editing process that took nearly 18 months, Riefenstahl added icing to the cake with a richly evocative soundtrack -- an added touch which, so far as the filmmaker was concerned, "made" the picture. Inasmuch as the German government was still trying to curry favor with the outside world in early 1938, Olympia was shipped out in various reedited versions, each favoring the athletes of the release country. Many English-language versions avoided any references to Hitler or Nazism -- quite a feat, considering the preponderence of swastikas at the Olympic site. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Frequently cited as both one of the greatest films about war and one of the greatest films ever made, Jean Renoir's La Grande Illusion is an often witty, sometimes poignant, frequently moving examination of the futility of war. During World War I, twoFrench airmen are shot down while taking surveillance photographs in German territory: Capt. de Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay), a wealthy and aristocratic officer; Lt. Maréchal (Jean Gabin), a burly but intelligent working-class mechanic. The three are brought to a P.O.W. camp, where they encounter and befriend Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio), a prosperous Jewish banker, and the commander, Von Rauffenstein (Erich von Stroheim), takes an immediate liking to de Boeldieu.They are members of the same social class and believe that the political and intellectual ideals of the Europe they once knew will soon be a thing of the past with the rise to power of the proletariat. The three Frenchmen discover that their fellow prisoners have been digging an escape tunnel, and all of them agree to help -- Maréchal and Rosenthal with enthusiasm, de Boeldieu out of a sense of duty. As he puts it, when on a golf course, one plays golf, and while in a prison camp, one tries to escape -- it's the accepted thing to do. As Von Rauffenstein and de Boeldieu become friends, and the rank-and-file soldiers banter as much with the German guards as with each other, the characters seem involved less in a war than in some vast, petty game, albeit one with deadly consequences; they often talk about women and food, while never mentioning political ideology. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

Pepe le Moko (Jean Gabin) is a well-known criminal mastermind who eludes the French police by hiding in the Casbah section of Algiers. He knows he is safe in this labyrinthine netherworld, where he is surrounded by his fellow thieves and cutthroats. Police inspector Slimane (Lucas Gridoux), who has developed a grudging respect for Pepe, bides his time, waiting for Pepe to try to leave the Casbah. When Gaby Gould (Mirielle Balin), a Parisian tourist, falls in love with Pepe, the inspector hopes to use this relationship to his advantage. He tells Gaby that Pepe has been killed, knowing that the heartbroken girl will return to Paris -- and that Pepe will risk everything to go after her. The French Pepe le Moko was remade in the US as Algiers, which followed the original so slavishly (except for changing its ending) that the American producers were able to utilize generous amounts of stock footage from the French film. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

This episodic satire of the Machine Age is considered Charles Chaplin's last "silent" film, although Chaplin uses sound, vocal, and musical effects throughout. Chaplin stars as an assembly-line worker driven insane by the monotony of his job. After a long spell in an asylum, he searches for work, only to be mistakenly arrested as a Red agitator. Released after foiling a prison break, Chaplin makes the acquaintance of orphaned gamine (Paulette Goddard) and becomes her friend and protector. He takes on several new jobs for her benefit, but every job ends with a quick dismissal and yet another jail term. During one of his incarcerations, she is hired to dance at a nightclub and arranges for him to be hired there as a singing waiter. He proves an enormous success, but they are both forced to flee their jobs when the orphanage officials show up to claim the girl. Dispirited, she moans, "What's the use of trying?" But the ever-resourceful Chaplin tells her to never say die, and our last image is of Chaplin and The Gamine strolling down a California highway towards new adventures. The plotline of Modern Times is as loosely constructed as any of Chaplin's pre-1915 short subjects, permitting ample space for several of the comedian's most memorable routines: the "automated feeding machine," a nocturnal roller-skating episode, and Chaplin's double-talk song rendition in the nightclub sequence. In addition to producing, directing, writing, and starring in Modern Times, Chaplin also composed its theme song, Smile, which would later be adopted as Jerry Lewis' signature tune. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

H. G. Wells was both the author of the original source -- an essay, rather than an actual novel, concerning mankind's future -- and the screenplay (in conjunction with Lajos Biro) of this epic science fiction tale, but it was producer Alexander Korda who framed the terms on which it is presented, vast and elegant, and visually striking. Opening in the year 1940, we see the next century of human history unfold, initially with amazing prescience. In Everytown (a stand-in for London) in 1940, the people prepare to celebrate Christmas amid rumors and rumblings of war -- forward-thinking pacifists like John Cabal (Raymond Massey) try to raise concerns amid a populace either too fearful to think about the risks, or so pleased with business conditions that they're oblivious to the downside of war. And then it comes, devastating Everytown (in scenes shockingly close to the actual World War II London blitz, a half-decade away when these scenes were written) and the country, and finally the world. After 30 years, the war goes on, except that there are no more nations to fight it, only isolated petty fiefdoms ruled by brigand-like strongmen, running gangs organized like tiny armies. Among the most ruthless and successful of them is Rudolph (Ralph Richardson), who runs what's left of Everytown. He keeps his people in line by force, and his war with his neighbors going with his bedraggled troops, while pressuring the tiny handful of scientists, mechanics, and pilots to keep as many of the aging, decrepit planes as they can operating. A few educated men around him -- whom he doesn't really trust -- try to resist the worst of his plans and orders, while going through the motions of carrying them out. And then, one day, out of the sky comes a plane the like of which they've never seen before, sleek and fast, and piloted by a mysterious man whom Rudolph orders imprisoned. It is John Cabal, older but just as dedicated to the cause of peace, and ready to fight for it. He announces the existence of a new order, run by a society of engineers and scientists, called Wings Over The World, here to re-establish civilization. Rudolph will hear none of it, thinking instead to use Cabal's plane and those of any of his friends who follow as weapons of war -- but Rudolph's wife Roxana (Marguerite Scott) sees the wisdom of what Cabal offers and helps him. The bombers of Wings Over The World drop the Gas of Peace, which puts the entire population of Everytown to sleep -- all except Rudolph, who goes down fighting and dies -- allowing the army of the Airmen to enter and free the city. Seventy years go by, during which the Earth is transformed and a new civilization rises, led by scientists and engineers. Immense towers now rise into the sky, and the population is freed from most of the concerns that ever led to it war. In fact, a new complacency starts to take hold amid a populace for whom most needs are now easily met -- all except the leaders, engineers who keep advancing, year after year, with new projects and goals. And now, having conquered the Earth and all of the challenges it has to offer, Oswald Cabal (Raymond Massey), the great-grandson of John and the current leader, is about to embark on the grandest project of all, moving into deep space. The first launch of a manned vehicle, fired by the Space Gun, is about to take place. But there is discontent being spread by the sculptor Theotocopulos (Cedric Hardwicke), who is weary and distressed from this constant push toward new advances and progress -- he wants mankind to reassert itself over this ever-advancing technology, and sees the Space Gun and all it represents as a new threat. In a speech, he exhorts the restive populace to stop the launch. They proceed, en masse, to attack the Space Gun, while Cabal struggles to beat them to their objective and take the next bold step into space. "All of the Universe," he declares, "or nothing -- which shall it be?" ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

This greatest of all Frankenstein movies begins during a raging thunderstorm. Warm and cozy inside their palatial villa, Lord Byron (Gavin Gordon), Percy Shelley (Douglas Walton), and Shelley's wife Mary (Elsa Lanchester) engage in morbidly sparkling conversation. The wicked Byron mockingly chastises Mary for frightening the literary world with her recent novel Frankenstein, but Mary insists that her horror tale preached a valuable moral, that man was not meant to dabble in the works of God. Moreover, Mary adds that her story did not end with the death of Frankenstein's monster, whereupon she tells the enthralled Byron and Shelley what happened next. Surviving the windmill fire that brought the original 1931 Frankenstein to a close, the Monster (Boris Karloff) quickly revives and goes on another rampage of death and destruction. Meanwhile, his ailing creator Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) discovers that his former mentor, the demented Doctor Praetorius (Ernst Thesiger), plans to create another life-sized monster -- this time a woman! After a wild and wooly "creation" sequence, the bandages are unwrapped, and the Bride of the Monster (Elsa Lanchester again) emerges. Alas, the Monster's tender efforts to connect with his new Mate are rewarded only by her revulsion and hoarse screams. "She hate me," he growls, "Just like others!" Wonderfully acted and directed, The Bride of Frankenstein is further enhanced by the vivid Franz Waxman musical score; even the film's occasional lapses in logic and continuity (it was trimmed from 90 to 75 minutes after the first preview) are oddly endearing. Director James Whale was memorably embodied by Ian McKellen in the Oscar-winning 1998 biopic Gods and Monsters. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

When British actor Robert Donat dropped out of Warner Bros. Captain Blood, the studio took a chance on its new contractee, Tasmania-born Errol Flynn. Adapted from the novel by Rafael Sabatini, the film is set during the oppressive reign of King James II. Irish physician Peter Blood (Errol Flynn), arrested for treating a wounded anti-crown rebel, is condemned to slavery in Jamaica. Here he earns several privileges after treating the governor (George Hassell) for gout; this does not rest well with Lionel Atwill, the wicked owner of the plantation on which Blood is forced to work. Nor is Atwill pleased with the growing relationship between his niece Arabella (Olivia DeHavilland) and the imprisoned doctor. An attack on Jamaica by Spanish pirates gives Blood and his fellow slaves the opportunity to become buccaneers themselves. After several months of fighting and plunder, Blood's men capture a merchant ship bearing Arabella. Blood fights a duel with a French pirate (Basil Rathbone) over the girl; having "won" her, Blood intends to have his way with her, but his more decent instincts prevail. When King James is overthrown by William of Orange, Blood is given a commission and lauded as a hero as a reward for his bravery against the Spanish galleons. He is appointed governor of Jamaica, wins the hand of the lovely Arabella, and genially forces Atwill to eat crow. This seemingly outsized swashbuckler was actually a very economical production, using stock footage from several silent films. Captain Blood transformed the 26-year-old Errol Flynn into a star; he's a little clumsy in the dialogue department at times, but cuts a dashing figure in the action scenes. The film also represented the cinematic debut of composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold, who wasn't completely happy with his hastily written score and asked that his on-screen credit be diminished to "musical director". Long available only in its 99 minute re-issue version, Captain Blood has been restored to its full, glorious 119 minute length. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Filmed on what MGM considered a B-picture budget and schedule (14 days, which at Universal or Columbia would have been considered extravagant), The Thin Man proved to be "sleeper," spawning a popular film, radio, and television series. Contrary to popular belief, the title does not refer to star William Powell, but to Edward Ellis, playing the mean-spirited inventor who sets the plot in motion. The recently divorced Clyde Wynant (Ellis) discovers that his new girlfriend, Julia Wolf (Natalie Moorhead), has stolen 50,000 dollars and is carrying on with other men. Not long afterward, he disappears. Anxious to locate her father, Wynant' daughter, Dorothy (Maureen O'Sullivan), goes to private detective Nick Charles (William Powell) for help. Having just married the lovely and wealthy Nora (Myrna Loy), Nick has no desire to return to sleuthing, but the thrill-seeking Nora eagerly talks him into taking Dorothy's case. Shortly thereafter, Wynant's lady friend is murdered; so far as police detective John Guild (Nat Pendleton) is concerned, the still-missing Wynant is the guilty party. Nick is unsatisfied with this deduction, and with the help of his wire fox terrier, Asta, he manages to uncover several vital clues -- including a decomposed corpse. At a fancy dinner party, between cocktails and the first course, Nick solves the mystery and exposes a hidden murderer. The story itself, lifted almost verbatim by scenarists Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich from the Dashiell Hammett novel on which The Thin Man is based, hardly matters. The film's strong suit is the witty repartee between Nick and Nora Charles, who manage to behave like saucily illicit lovers throughout the film even though they're married. The chemistry between William Powell and Myrna Loy would be adroitly exploited by MGM in several subsequent films, including five additional Thin Man mysteries produced between 1936 and 1948. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi