THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 8

This Early Show line-up could pass for an evening's entertainment at the movie theater -- a short, an A, a B, plus a an episode of a TV series nobody ever saw. They're all interesting for different reasons, and at least two are actually worth watching. But if my batting average is anything to go by, you'll probably prefer the ones I don't recommend as strongly. It's lonely having unique tastes.

MESHES OF THE AFTERNOON 

(1943): If you haven't heard of the 14-minute silent avant-garde short Meshes of the Afternoon, the editors of Sight and Sound magazine would like a word with you, seeing that they just placed it at #16 in their decennial list of the 200 greatest movies of all time. 

As with most avant-garde movies, Meshes of the Afternoon is difficult to describe because it must be seen to be understood (good luck with that). A young woman arrives home and, after momentarily losing her key, enters the front door. She looks around, goes upstairs, turns off the portable phonograph, and takes a nap. She dreams of what appears to be Death in a black shroud, only with a mirror for a face. She gives chase a few times, before returning to find two of her doppelgangers sitting at the living room table.  One of them tries to kill her, a guy turns up to help, the mirror breaks into the ocean...

I dunno, I forget. Heavy with shadows and images like the woman repeatedly taking the key from her mouth, Meshes of the Afternoon likely made it as high as it did on the Sight and Sound list -- above such piddling pictures as Apocalypse Now, Taxi Driver, Night of the Hunter, Rear Window, and Casablanca -- because... well, who knows. Is it because it was co-written and directed by a woman (Maya Deren) who also has the lead role? Does it say something about illusion vs real life? Is it as simple as "well, why not?" And what are the meshes anyway?

For me, it's just fascinating that in 1943 something like Meshes of the Afternoon impressed certain audiences. Fans of other movies that year, like Son of Dracula and Lassie Come Home, would have asked, "This is what our boys overseas are fighting for?"

BONUS POINTS: For someone who was alive 80 years ago, Maya Deren looks incredibly contemporary. In fact, come to New York sometime and you're likely to see a woman wearing those same goggles.

SILVER RIVER (1948): Imagine if Robin Hood became the evil King John, and you have Silver River. Unfairly court-martialed during the Civil War, Mike McComb (Errol Flynn) remakes himself as the owner of a gambling hall in the town of Silver River, while continuing to rake in money as the town's sole banker and  muscling in on the local silver mines. His luck starts to fall apart following his marriage to Georgia Moore, whose former husband, Stanley, McComb knowingly sent to his death on a mining expedition. He eventually redeems himself by leading a posse to arrest the men who assassinated his former lawyer-turned-Senatorial candidate John Plato Beck. I guess Georgia was OK with McComb essentially killing her first husband after all.

While not Flynn's best film -- at nearly two hours, it could have been trimmed by 20 minutes --Silver River boasts his most interesting, perhaps best, performance. By the end of the second reel, Flynn has transformed from his typical valiant self to a cynical, coldblooded antihero -- make that heel -- he would never portray again. The moment Flynn intentionally sends his romantic rival on his fatal journey is as memorable as any he ever had onscreen. As Thomas Mitchell (as Beck) tries to protest McComb's ruthlessness, Flynn shoots him a silent glare that is utterly chilling, and proof what a great actor he was occasionally allowed to be. 

As with leading man-turned-character actor Richard Dix, it "helped" that alcoholism was transforming Flynn's looks as well as his style (39 years old but looking 45). Meanwhile, his love interest, 26 year-old Ann Sheridan, could pass for a hard 35, thanks to her love of liquor. To be sure, Silver River is a little draggy, and what little action it contains is pretty much in the first 10 minutes, but it's possibly the most fascinating movie of Fynn's career. 

BONUS POINTS: Watching Thomas Mitchell trot out the scene-stealing drunk routine he perfected in Gone with the Wind and Stagecoach. He's the only actor in Silver River to give Flynn a run for his money.

ROADBLOCK (1951): Straight arrow insurance investigator Joe Peters falls fedora over wingtips for Diane Morley, the girlfriend of  underworld kingpin Kendall Webb. The more Diane warns Joe he hasn't got the dough to keep her happy, the more determined the gumshoe is winning her -- even it means giving Webb the inside skinny on the shipment of over a million dollars in currency, in exchange for 1/3 of the booty. After the plan is put in motion, Diane has a change of heart and tells Joe she can live on his $350-a-month salary. What a shame that it's too late  to call off the heist -- and that there are one too many clues leading his partner Harry Miller to suspect Joe as part of the crime. Like I say, it's always the dames that do you in.

Roadblock has all the earmarks of an RKO film noir. Fast-paced, a twist or two (this might be the only noir I've seen where the femme fatale becomes non-fatale) and, in the lead, Charles McGraw. Looking like a B-level Kirk Douglas and sounding like he gargles Brill-O pads, McGraw makes for a surprising sap as Joe Peters, seeing that the guy would be least likely to throw away his job, reputation and freedom for hot sex with a beautiful young woman. Or maybe not.

As Diane,  21 year-old Joan Dixon never tries to hide her contempt for Joe, who keeps sniffing around her like a dog in heat (which he is). So when she finally decides that he's the guy for her, it comes as surprise even for the audience. Dixon pulls off both sides of Joan convincingly, while Lowell Gilmore (playing Webb like a roadshow George Sanders) and Louis Jean Heydt as Harry Miller, and Milburn Stone (soon to gain immortality as Doc Adams on Gunsmoke) as the cop investigating the robbery also provide Roadblock with solid entertainment for its 72 minutes. 

BONUS POINTS: A first rate climactic car chase filmed on location at the Los Angeles River Watershed, featuring a moment of genuine hand-held camera work from Joe Peters' backseat. And don't miss the two-toned Nash police car, too!

 CLASS OF '55 (1972): The Jazz Age nostalgia craze of the late '60s progressed a few decades by the time of Class of '55, an unsold half-hour anthology series created for ABC by James Brooks. Judging by the pilot, each episode would have been about what happened to certain members of the titular fictional class, via flashbacks and present-day scenes, since graduation. 

Not a bad idea, but any entertainment value the pilot provides is strictly through the novelty of its stars, Alan Alda and Louise Lasser, as college-sweethearts-turned-divorced couple. Until the climax, there's never one moment where their characters are happy together. During the college flashbacks, Lasser is always crying (while whimpering, "I'm not crying!" -- funny, hunh?), while Alda is nothing less than abrasive. During their present-day, post-divorce scenes, they're just bitter. What they ever saw in each other is never explained, leaving us to guess why they remarry at the climax. No wonder the network programmers rejected it -- was every episode of this alleged sitcom going to feature such annoying, inexplicable characters?

The most interesting thing about Class of '55 is how it brings back memories of  1970s television. The long opening credits featuring theme music heavy on brass and drums; the hesitant steps toward "adult" humor; and, of course, the ugly fashions (although Lasser looks surprisingly sexy in the 1972 scenes). Luckily for the two stars, M*A*S*H and Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman were just around he corner --  as was The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Taxi for producer James Brooks. Hey, you gotta start somewhere.

BONUS POINTS: The wedding photographer is played by Alan Alda's soon-to-be M*A*S*H co-star, Jamie Farr (a/k/a Corporal Klinger). I wonder if, on the first day on the M*A*S*H set, one of them said to the other, "I hope this works out better than that lousy Class of '55 pilot!" 

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