Someday, I will finally run out of obscurities to while away my early mornings or late nights... at least if my wife has any say. Until then, feast your eyes on four movies worthy of your (or my) time.
IT NEVER HAPPENED (a/k/a TOMATO IS ANOTHER DAY) (1934): You can set your sundial by it: Whenever I
recommend an old comedy by saying, "I thought it was pretty funny," nobody else will like it. It Never Happened probably won't break that streak. This nearly century-old one-reeler is so eccentric, so off-kilter, so damn sure of itself that it had only one theatrical screening before scurrying back where it came from.
It helps to know ahead of time that It Never Happened (written by Alec Wilder and directed by James Sibley Watson, Jr.) is a low-budget parody of early talkie melodramas, with gratuitously stilted dialogue spoken at a snail's pace, melodramatic make-up, unnecessarily loud sound effects, and overheated sexual shenanigans involving a woman, her husband and her lover. There are also preposterous puns, absurd asides ("Well, it's a cigarette life!"), risqué pre-code dialogue, and senseless gunplay -- all in seven minutes.
If you're looking for stars, go elsewhere. It Never Happened marks the only movie appearances by obscure radio announcer Jack Lee (the cuckolded husband) and Frances Alexander Miller (the wife). Miller's satiric style of speaking verrrrry slooooowly is both hilarious and unnerving. Like other unconventionally attractive women of her day, Miller also appears quite au courant; she could steal the show as "the best friend" in a contemporary romantic comedy. As for the identity of the guy who plays the lover, your guess is as good as anybody's. Did you ever have a great uncle was in a movie once? Maybe it's him.
Likely off-putting to most people today as it was for its one-time-only 1934 audience, It Never Happened is now hailed by others as a Dadaist masterpiece, which itself is amusing -- its creators were just making fun of movies. And not for the last time, I thought it was pretty funny. Be warned. (If you're brave of heart, click here: It Never Happened [Tomato Is Another Day, Tomato’s Another Day] on Vimeo).
BONUS POINTS: The movie's writer, Alec Wilder, went on to compose operas, movie soundtracks, and pop songs, while Frances Alexander Miller was married to Mitch Miller. Yeah, the "Sing Along With..." guy.
MAN WHO CHANGED HIS MIND (a/k/a THE MAN WHO LIVED AGAIN (1936): Dr. Laurience, your typical mad scientist, has figured out a way to transfer one person's mind to another's. Smelling a new way to sell newspapers, publisher Lord Haslewood finances this breakthrough in exchange for exclusive interviews -- an arrangement the magnate cancels when other scientists literally laugh Laurience off the stage. Laurience gets revenge by transferring the mind of his crippled friend Clayton into to Haslewood's. Clayton's new mind soon goes to his head (see what I did there?), leading Laurience to kill him, then decides to transfer his own mind into that of Haslewood's son Dick, who's engaged to the scientist's former assistant Anna Lee. Talk about mind games!A fairly unknown, unhinged UK production, The Man Who Changed His Mind was renamed by Warner Brothers for the US release because... maybe they didn't think Americans would get the sly dark humor of the original title? On the other hand, which title sounds more like one starring Boris Karloff as a Frankenstein-type doctor?
No matter what the movie's called, it's clearly an attempt at an American-style horror movie, and, as such, succeeds. Not only is the story acceptably strange, the art-deco lab equipment is pleasing to the eye as well. A plot device no longer accepted by society involves Dr. Laurience testing his mind-switching device on two hapless monkeys, one placid and the other rather testy. For some reason, it's eerier and more upsetting than when he does the same thing on humans. Only the British accents and dearth of familiar character actors separates The Man Who Changed His Mind from a first-rate Universal horror picture.BONUS POINTS: Karloff chain-smokes throughout the entire movie, often dangling the cigarette from his mouth a la Peter Lorre.
DARK MOUNTAIN (1944): Some movies aren't worth talking about. Dark Mountain -- - the 57-minute B-drama from Paramount about a forest ranger who suspects the woman he loves is being held captive by her gangster husband -- would certainly be one of them if it wasn't for co-star Regis Toomey. Not that Toomey was ever a great actor. Doubling down a bit, it's easy to say his early light supporting roles promised nothing but a quick exit into real estate.But add a few years, pounds, wrinkles, and a cigarette-stained voice, and what was once a comedic leading man was now exceptional as cynical police detectives or, as in Dark Mountain, the quietly psychopathic criminal Steve Downey, all charm one moment before turning cold and dangerous when things go south. Whether he's killing a cop or his assistant Whitey (the legendary Elisha Cook, Jr.), Toomey is often shockingly violent while everyone else is just going through the motions.
As for the others, nominal leading actors Robert Lowery (forest ranger) and Ellen Drew (damsel in distress) could have been replaced by any second-string actors and no one would tell the difference. The same can't be said as Eddie Quillan, Lowery's comedic sidekick: nobody this annoying comes to mind. Dark Mountain proves that a movie can have a dozen things going against it, but as long as someone like Regis Toomey is around to jazz things up, it's a good way to pass the time over breakfast.BONUS POINTS: Toomey refers to Lowrey as a "chump" and "squarehead" like he means it.
CRY OF THE CITY (1948): Police Lt. Vittorio Candella is on the trail of Martin Rome, a
small-time gangster who escaped from a prison hospital after killing a cop (and possibly being the brains behind a major jewel robbery). To the lieutenant's dismay, the charismatic Rome appears to be getting help from several people while on the run. Rome's kid brother Tony, girlfriend Brenda, a self-styled psychic named Rose, and a mysterious unnamed teenage girl who was the last person to visit him before his hospitalization all have reasons to protect him. Candella finally tracks Rome down, only to be wounded in a shootout. But Candella won't let that stop him, even if it means he has to break out from a hospital, too.If you have a friend who wants to know what a film noir is, Cry of the City -- expertly directed by Richard Siodmak -- would be the place to start. All the noir elements are on display in their dark glory. The haunted cop. The smartass bad guy. Streets wet with rain at night despite sunny skies during the daytime. Dramatic camera angles, dimly lit sets, creepy supporting characters -- if Cry of the City weren't so good, it would almost be a parody of the genre. Even the leading actors -- Victor Mature as the cop, Richard Conte as the bad guy -- are out of a '50s issue of Mad magazine. The difference here is that the two actors, particularly Mature, are far better than one might expect.
BONUS POINTS: Cry of the City was the umpteenth 20th Century-Fox noir scored by Alfred Newman featuring his theme from the 1931 pre-code drama Street Scene under the credits. An evocative piece of music can go a long way.
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