MOVIE OF THE DAY: "EYES IN THE NIGHT" (1942)

One of the many things I love about old movies is their simplicity. Or is it the original audiences' simplicity? Because there are times you have to swallow an awful lot of malarkey with these things (which I happily do).

Take Eyes in the Night, a 1942 M-G-M programmer. While trying to clear a friend of murder, Police Captain Duncan McLain breaks up a Nazi spy ring. 

You'd trust a blind cop with a gun, right?

So far, so World War II. But what sets McLain apart from other cops is that he's blind. And like other blind cops, McLain has no problem getting the drop on bad guys with his own patented martial arts technique, or walking (with his seeing eye dog) to a greenhouse on a property he's never visited before. McLain even has perfect cursive handwriting. The only thing he can't do is explain how the hell he's capable of all of this.

Friday's ticked off because his
contract said nothing about
publicity stills.

And speaking of geniuses, his dog Friday can understand commands like "Hide behind the bed," "Take this message home," and, probably, "Make me a South Beach Martini, and don't be stingy with the Cointreau."  Friday is also capable of jumping 12-foot walls and figuring out how to escape from a locked basement by knocking over a pile of mattresses and... well, it doesn't matter. You wouldn't believe me, anyway. Suffice it to say, this mutt makes Rin Tin Tin look like Goofy. According to the credits, Friday is played by Himself, which is a strange name for a dog. (Memo to wife: That's a joke.)

"Four walls and a roof... or is it
four roofs and a wall?"

Smart as he is, Friday can't talk (yet), so McLain has a two-legged sidekick, Marty, to describe the surroundings when inspecting crime scenes. But when Marty's played by the perennially dim-witted Alan Jenkins, you know that the dog ultimately has the upper paw. Jenkins, on loan from Warner Bros., seems almost out of place in a Metro picture, even one on the lower-end of the budget spectrum as Eyes of the Night, but, as usual, is a welcome sight. Well, except for the blind cop.

Ann Harding is 41 but playing 50.
Donna Reed is 24 but playing 17 while
looking 35. The magic of Hollywood!

While it's always fun to see not-yet famous stars in early roles, it's even better when they're playing the opposite of what you're used to. And here, it's Donna Reed as the 17 year-old slutty bitch (or bitchy slut) Barbara Lawry, who's having an affair with her stepmother's ex-lover (the soon-to-be murder victim). In Eyes in the Night's final scene, Reed's character is going on a date with the middle-aged McLain. What people called a happy ending, we now refer to as "daddy issues."

"OK, anyone who isn't a Nazi, say 'aye.'"

I'm not sure how many Nazi spy rings there were in America, but judging from 1940s movies, you couldn't open a refrigerator without hearing "Sieg heil!" In Eyes of the Night, the krauts make up the theatre group Barbara Lawry belongs to and Norma's entire household staff. Didn't anyone hear of background checks?

I have no idea what's supposed
to be happening here.

Edward Arnold plays Capt. McLain with what used to be called his usual aplomb. Sophisticated, clever, almost happy to be blind, McLain doesn't let his affliction stop him from doing his job, although I wouldn't want to live in a town where there's a blind cop packing heat.

But Arnold's style is partly his undoing. Adept at playing villains (like Satan in the Metro short Inflation), he makes me just a little uncomfortable when a good guy, as in Eyes in the Night. There always seems to be something nasty simmering just below the surface, like a desire to kick his dog in the face without warning. (Paul Newman admitted basing his performance in the Coen Brothers' 1940s-style farce The Hudsucker Proxy on Arnold. Take it from someone who's seen it -- it was a bad idea.)

Maybe audiences didn't buy the blind-cop premise after all. The studio waited three years before making another McLain movie with Arnold before scuttling the whole idea. These were also Friday's only movie appearances. Not much of a call, apparently, for seeing-eye dogs working with blind cops. Typecasting's brutal, even if you can hide behind a bed on command.

                                                 ***********************

To read about Inflation, go here.

BREAKING NEWS: WHITE HOUSE SEMANTICS EDITION

In explaining the administration's policy of not negotiating with terrorists, White House spokesman Eric Schultz drew a distinction between Afghanistan’s Taliban and the Islamic State, describing the Taliban as an “armed insurgency."

"Distinctions like this," Shultz added, "will be considered retroactively as well. For instance, the three separate events that happened on 9/11 will be divided into separate categories. The destruction of the World Trade Center is now considered 'workplace violence.' The plane flying into the Pentagon is 'military misadventure,' while the hijacking and subsequent crash of the plane in Shanksville, Pennsylvania is officially 'aeronautic abeyance.'" 

"And just to be clear," Schultz added, "we're now labeling the Boston Marathon bombing 'sports-related hooliganism.'" Admitting that he had no knowledge if the aborted 2010 Times Square car bombing was part of the official relabeling, Schultz said, "But if I had to guess, we would consider that 'automobile disturbance gaff.' But let me get back to you on that." 

                                                 ********************

DRIFTING THROUGH THE NEWS

New York's Blizzard of 1888: I think that fellow
would have a good laugh seeing the panic
we're currently experiencing.

Don't worry about me facing the blizzard of historic proportions. Over the weekend, I made sure to stock up on all the important supplies (booze) to help get through the week.

Too, I'd like to thank everyone not living in the Northeast for putting up with the resulting wall-to-wall news reports. As you've learned by now, it doesn't matter what's happening in the rest of the country -- when New York is in the eye of any disaster, whether it's terrorism or snow in winter, the rest of you can pound sand. Remember, the network and cable news shows are located in New York. This is about them, so you're just going to have to suck it up for the next 36 hours.




I shouldn't be cynical; there's plenty of other important news they've been covering. Like speculating if a certain celebrity whose name rhymes with "chump" will really, really run for president, as he's threatened to do every four years since 1988. Then they're going to look into rumors that Ted Cruz is actually Green Acres star Pat Buttram.

And when they get through with that, they'll return to the saga of a deflated football. This is a sports league that used to put up with players (and their girlfriends) getting beaten unconscious on a regular basis, so I'm glad something crucial as this caught their eye. Boko Haram wiping out entire villages?  Later, pal -- what does Bill Belichick have to say today?

The current state of television journalism, then: snow jobs, blowhards, and deflated balls. Reporters will no doubt bring the same gravitas to their coverage of the next presidential election. Am I right?

                                ******************************************************
 

 

BREAKING NEWS: SAUDI ARABIA EDITION

In a nationally televised speech, Saudi Arabia's new king, Salman bin Abdul-Aziz Al Saud, promised to continue the policies of his late half-brother King Abdullah.

These policies include supporting terrorists on the QT, stoning adulterers to death, treating women like 9th-class citizens, punishing free-thinkers with 1000 lashes, getting away with murder through oil sales to Western countries, playing the United States government like a plucked lute, and, most important, rubbing black shoe polish on his facial hair. 

                                                          ***********************

BREAKING NEWS: TONY VERNA EDITION

Tony Verna, who revolutionized television sports coverage in 1963 by inventing the instant replay, died yesterday at the age of 81.

Verna will be buried today at 2:00, 2:05 and 2:10.

                        ********************              

THE FAMILY WAY

In a world where hate seems to be the ruling force, it's nice to know that there's still such a thing as old-fashioned love, as this headline affirmed last week:

Woman plans to marry her father after two years of dating

I know what you're thinking: Thank God they didn't rush into this! Still, even before things started getting serious, they knew this wasn't "just one of those things":

The teenager said her father reached out to her on Facebook when she was in high school and soon after, she went to stay with him for a week. 

After the week together, the 18-year-old said they had sex and then started dating.

Maybe I'm just an old galoot, but in my day, we used to start dating, then have sex. And even then, that took at least... well, a week.

This romance started when the girl was 16 and Pops was around 36, long after he left her mother (before the girl was even born). Their age difference would probably infuriate progressives more than the incest angle, which they'd consider a "choice."

But if you find this whole thing revolting, well, you're clearly in the minority:

"Everyone on my mom’s side of the family sees us as father and daughter," she told the magazine. "Those who know that he’s my dad, and that we are engaged, include my father’s parents (they can see we are happy together and they can’t wait for us to have babies — they treat us just like any other couple), the woman we live with, and my best friend."

See? Not just the grandparents, but the woman these two lovebirds shack up with are down with the family nuptials. If only more marriages started out on such a positive note! (The magazine to which the quote refers is New York, which brought us a similar hard-hitting investigative piece, "What It's Like to Date a Horse."  And, lest you think otherwise, it isn't an interview with Mrs. Secretariat. I'm not sure when New York became the Appalachian version of Penthouse Forum, but I'm glad it was long after our subscription expired.)

I have a very strong feeling that, faster than you can say "I now pronounce you Dad and Wife," some cable network will be tracking down the happy couple with the idea of a new reality series. TLC has probably signed them already, being the home of such classy fare as My Five Wives, My 600-lb Life and Hoarding: Buried Alive. TLC officially stands for The Learning Channel, but appears to have morphed into Tacky Loathsome Creepy. Just the kind of stuff advertisers go for. (Looks like Kay's Jewelers is going to have to alter its jingle to "Every kiss begins with kin.")

And if you're wondering what kind of low-rent, backwoods, hominy grits kind of place would bless this kind of union, be forewarned: 

 
After the wedding, the woman says they plan to move to New Jersey where adult incest is legal.

You might find this piece of news shocking. But look on the bright side -- it's just one more reason to avoid New Jersey.

                                                 *************************

MOVIE OF THE DAY: "BELOW THE DEADLINE" (1946)

Blessed with direction by the legendary William "One-Take" Beaudine; actors whose neighbors probably never even heard of; and a title that makes no sense whatsoever, Below the Deadline is more interesting than it has any right to be.

On the surface, it's just another B-criminal picture about one gambling king, Joe Hilton, mooching in on the territory of another, Oney Kessel. What gives Below the Deadline an interesting twist, though, is that Joe is a World War II vet who happily inherited the underworld job after the murder of his brother Jeffrey.

In a time when post-war movies portrayed vets as world-class heroes who, at worst, had a little trouble adjusting to civilian life, Below the Deadline must have been unique. From the moment we meet Joe, we know he's trouble. Having lost his soul somewhere on the Philippines' battlefields, he's returned with a redwood-sized chip on his shoulder and an itch for violence. One of those vets who hates civilians, Joe has no empathy for anybody's death outside a war zone.

"So your hat's still on, eh? Well,
take that!"

Joe's first move in taking over Jeffrey's business is beating the hell out of one his yeggs, Nichols, just to show him who's boss. The fight scene is strangely absorbing, being sloppy, violent and surprisingly lengthy. And it's always fun to watch a fight where neither guy's fedora is knocked off until almost the very last moment -- hats must have been tighter in those days. 

Joe's Jewish bookkeeper Pinky looks on approvingly, telling the others, "That's m' boy!", a catchphrase repeated throughout the movie. (Character actor John Harmon plays Pinky with an a naturalness that turns up in old B-movies from time to time. He's so good, so real that it's almost discombobulating -- how the hell did he get in this picture?)

Apparently her high school
graduation picture.

Still, even the hardboiled Joe needs a jane, and it's Lynn Turner, one of his croupiers. Discovering that she's underage, Joe fires her before getting serious with the wooing. Lynn is supposed to be 19, but doesn't look like any girl my daughter goes to college with. (The actress, Ramsay Ames, was in reality 26.) Lynn somehow sees some good in Joe, but failing to straighten him out, breaks it off. C'mon, lady, let the guy be himself -- a semi-psychopathic criminal with a violent streak!

Nor can Joe be reformed by his former CO, Sam Austin, who tries convincing him into going in on a private air transportation business. But something good finally takes hold, when Joe donates some serious scratch to an anti-gambling

Lynn is impressed at Joe's ability to
 get shot in the stomach and still not bleed.

mayoral candidate named Vail, a vet who lost his leg in Okinawa. 

Joe's rival Oney takes this personally, leading to a climatic shootout at Sam's office. (Guys, can't you take this outside? I'm trying to run an airline here!) Oney goes to the slammer, while Joe leaves the craps tables behind, taking a job with Sam and reuniting with Lynn. How he managed to avoid prison time for his illegal activities is left unexplained.

William Beaudine, in a rare
moment not yelling, "Cut! Print!"

Below the Deadline features all the hallmarks of a Monogram movie. Actors casting multiple shadows on the walls; grimy sets; a 65-minute running time; men's suit with mile-wide lapels, and women's hairdos that no stylist outside a movie studio would be able to replicate now. Special mention must be made to the aforementioned William Beaudine, who directed close to 1,000 movies and TV shows, from 1915 to 1968. (Now you know how he earned the nickname "One-Take".)

I'm no fan of remakes, but Below the Deadline is just waiting for an update: An Iraq war vet comes home to take over his brother's drug ring and wipe out his rival once and for all. His on-the-level girlfriend wants him to go straight. His army buddy tries to get him to join him in a software business. Climactic shootout in the giant offices of the software company. Comedy relief from the Jewish bookkeeper. 

There, Hollywood, I've given it to you. Just change the title. 

                                                       *********************

BREAKING NEWS: ACADEMY AWARDS EDITION

Movie fans are unhappy with this year's Academy Award nominations, the first since 1998 not to feature any minorities in the major categories. Many complain that show business, despite its claims to the contrary, gives preference to whites males.

In response, Academy Award spokesman Brad Lanes told reporters, "We deny anything of the sort. In fact, starting next year we're going to have a new category: Best Server at the Post-Academy Awards Party. Good luck to all the winners!"

                                                  *************************

FAITHLESS

Just days after a mass murder over cartoons, representatives of the world's major religions probably helped to convert a few million more people to atheism.

Randy Weber's wife restrains
him from using the computer.

In the USA, Randy Weber, a Republican Congressman and self-described "family man and Christian," pulled the ol' "outrageous statement/insincere apology" routine beloved by politicians and celebrities everywhere. (If his name sounds familiar, it's because he was the guy who shouted "You lie!" during Obama's 2009 State of the Union address.) Earlier this week, Weber, like many others, took to his Twitter account when President Obama skipped the unity rally in Paris:

Now that first line is pretty funny -- if you leave out the rest of the message, delete "Adolph," insert "was" between "it" and "more" -- and, oh yeah, IF YOU'RE NOT AN ELECTED OFFICIAL WITH ACCESS TO THE INTERNET. One of those Texas troglodytes who probably thought, Well, hey, I thought only people who voted for me could read my Twitter whoozis, the honorable Congressman was compelled to issue a press statement (rather than directly state it to the press):

“I need to first apologize to all those offended by my tweet. It was not my intention to trivialize the Holocaust nor to compare the President to Adolf Hitler." 

Let me see... comparing Obama to Hitler is not comparing Obama to Hitler. Thanks for clearing that up, Randy. Now maybe you can explain your classic tweet sent just before Obama's 2014 State of the Union address:

Man, that "joke" doesn't even reach the level of stupid-minus-seven. Weber, in case you were wondering, was elected by almost 54% of the vote, meaning over half the voters in his district are drooling, medically-diagnosed imbeciles. To the people of Texas' 14th Congressional District, I implore you: Stop having children, and stick to the livestock instead.

From the Southwest, let's turn to the Middle East. As with the rest of the world's newspapers, Israel's Orthodox The Announcer put a photo of the French unity rally on its front page. Well, kind of. Its editors, like others in the business, decided that the women needed some airbrushing. Like, from right out of the picture:

Didn't Highlights magazine have a feature like this?

I think the only thing that the Announcer is announcing here is that the hardcore wings of major religions are proudly homophobic, yet can't bear allowing women in positions of power -- or even mingling with them. Or, in this case, even photos of other, non-Orthodox Jewish men mingling with them. Look guys, next time you're in New York, you should get your cowboy freak on at the Flaming Saddles Saloon on 9th Avenue -- and don't forget your chaps! (Heh heh.)

But it was yesterday's London Guardian that forced me to check the calendar and make sure this wasn't the year 644:

A prominent Saudi Arabian cleric has whipped up controversy by issuing a religious edict forbidding the building of snowmen, describing them as anti-Islamic.

Asked on a religious website if it was permissible for fathers to build snowmen for their children after a snowstorm in the country’s north, Sheikh Mohammed Saleh al-Munajjid replied: “It is not permitted to make a statue out of snow, even by way of play and fun.”

The tragic result of a Frosty fatwa.

This "Dear Abdullah" advice columnist explained that since creating an image of a human being was sinful under Sunni Islam, kids would be better served creating a snow figure "which does not have a soul, including trees, ships, fruits, buildings and so on." And what child hasn't jumped and down at the thought of building a snow felafel? 

Wait, now that we're on the subject -- we've gotten something like one inch of snow in New York so far this winter. But they've gotten enough in Saudi Frickin' Arabia to consider building snowmen? Frankly, I'm offended.

Kids, you want to build a snow figure without a soul? Make it look like someone who says snowmen are blasphemous. And then build a snow-woman next to it. Don't worry -- sounds like those guys don't think women have souls, either. But it'll drive them nuts anyway.

And as for Randy Weber -- how long before you're riding the range at Flaming Saddles, you ol' conservative family man, you? Yee-haw!

                                                     *************************

 

BREAKING NEWS: UNITY RALLY EDITION

President Barack Obama faced questions from reporters regarding his decision not to attend the French unity rally honoring the 17 citizens killed by Al-Qaeda-linked terrorists.

"First of all, our agent at Perillo Tours advised us that this really isn't the best time of year to visit France," Mr. Obama explained. "Pretty chilly, as you could see from all those pictures of the rally. But more to the point, it's my belief that changing your way of your life after such an event means that the terrorists have won. Heck, I don't even like to use the word 'terrorist.' If there are weeds in your yard, just keep repeating, 'I see flowers, I see flowers!' It really works!"

"That's why," he added, "I watched the playoff game -- nothing more American than that. And then there were the Golden Globes. Did you see that? Weren't Tina [Fey] and Amy [Poehler] amazing? Although, personally, I think Birdman was robbed. And you should have seen Michelle when she caught me eyeing Jennifer Lopez. Talk about terrorist activities!"

When asked if it still might have been a good idea if Vice-President Joe Biden had stood in for him in Paris, Mr. Obama replied, "Are you kidding? After his antics with that 13 year-old girl at the Senate swearing-in, I personally put him on the no-fly list."

                                     ****************************************

BREAKING NEWS: CHARLIE HEBDO EDITION

In its editorial decrying the killings of almost a dozen staffers of the French satirical weekly Charlie Hebdo, the New York Times today stated, "It is absurd to suggest that the way to avoid terrorist attacks is to let the terrorists dictate standards in a democracy."

But when asked why the Times refused to republish any of the Charlie Hebdo cartoons lampooning Islam or the Prophet Muhammad, while in the past printing a photo of Andres Serrano's Piss Christ, the Times' publisher Arthur Sulzberger, Jr. replied, "Well, there's offensive, and then there's offensive. And, y'know, we don't want to offend the easily offended. I mean, you see what happens when they get offended. Yikes."

Challenged by a reporter to defend the Times' hypocrisy, Sulzberger puffed out his chest. "You call it hypocrisy. At the Times, we call it an editorial decision."

Asked if "cowardice" would be a better word, Sulzberger replied, "You say that like there's something wrong with it." He was then joined by dozens of Times' staffers holding signs reading, "I AM ARTHUR."

                                               
                                          ***************************

WHAT'S MY FACE?

10 days? Who has time for that?

There was a time in movies and TV when nothing was more worthy of ridicule than a woman's beauty routine. Actresses seemed to be contractually obliged to appear at least once with their faces smeared with cold cream while wearing a terrycloth robe. 

That didn't stop my wife, daughter, and I from having a family facial festival the other night. Facials, in case you've never experienced them, are quite a process, involving much washing, rinsing, plastering, scraping, moisturizing and more rinsing. If I didn't look so lovely afterwards, it would hardly seem worth it.

However, my wife no longer has an outfit
like that.

As I smeared on the facial mask, I was swept back in time. Suddenly, it was 1927, and I was Al Jolson in the Winter Garden dressing room, getting ready to sing "My Mammy" for an adoring audience who have would have lynched a real black man for being on the same stage. 

But as I gazed in the mirror, I looked not like a white Broadway actor pretending to be black, but a guy who just had a chihuahua evacuate on his face after it ate a particularly nasty burrito. Nobody ever said beauty was beautiful.

Take me to your masseuse.

Once we were suitably plastered, it was on to the next step in our passage to pulchritude.
For reasons that escape me, we spent the next the ten minutes prone with our feet up and eyes closed. Since our daughter was home for Christmas vacation, she was allowed the couch, with her feet resting on pillows atop the armrest. My wife and I were relegated to the hardwood floor with our feet on the leather chairs. If anyone had stumbled upon us at that moment, they would have taken us for a UFO cult waiting to be taken away on the mother-ship to the planet Zybisko. 

Shirley Eaton was also shinier
than me.

As the mask dried, I could feel it tightening -- no, strangling my face. While my wife got first dibs at the sink after the allotted 10 minutes, I looked at the hall mirror and studied the cakey, brown-green substance. I was, to be frank, a hideous sight, appearing to be the victim of Goldfinger -- or, in this case, Mudfinger. While a face smeared with cold cream was always good for a laugh on I Love Lucy, this would make a viewer scream in terror. 

Once it was my turn to wash this stuff off -- and not a moment too soon -- I neglected to fully close my mouth; subsequently, I felt as though I was chewing sand. "It is gritty," my wife agreed, sparking my brilliant retort, "There's a good name for a criminal: Gritty Facial." Neither she nor my daughter agreed.

What we could agree on was that our faces felt and looked a decade cleaner and younger. As for me, it was one of those rare moments where I could say, "Gee, I kinda look handsome," and mean it. But you should have seen what we had to go through to find our beautiful selves. And you could have, if they had let me post the group selfie of our mud-smeared faces. At least I'm not ashamed to admit that with beauty comes a heavy price. 

Let's do it again!

                                                             ******************

BREAKING NEWS: AIRASIA FLIGHT 8501 EDITION

As the recovery mission for AirAsia Flight 8501 continues into its second week, Jeff Zucker has announced that he has worked out a deal with to install video cameras at the front of all Malaysian airlines "just in case."

"We at CNN are proud of our relentless coverage of missing Malaysian airplanes," Zucker told reporters. "Once they go down, you can count on our crack team of reporters regurgitating the same non-information while experts on our payroll offer up theories, guesses, and empty speculation. Going forward, however, we're going to boost our coverage by providing live coverage of the crash itself. Once we hear that any Malaysian plane is having trouble, we're going to cut right to the video feed so that viewers can experience the terror in real time. And it doesn't matter what else is happening. Whether the president's declaring war on North Korea or John Boehner's falling down drunk on the Capitol steps, those airplanes will come first. We want people to remember that CNN is the home of flight disasters."

When asked if the video would help rescue teams find the planes faster, Zucker said, "Jesus, I hope not! What else are we going to talk about?"

                                                                   *********************