THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 17

The WGA strike has allowed me more time to catch up on movies and TV shows I've missed, didn't know existed, or shouldn't have seen to begin with. Fortunately, none of these four falls into the latter category.

ELSTREE CALLING (1930): Because Hollywood was showing off the newfangled sound system with musical/comedy revues, it was inevitable that the idea would catch on in the UK. Elstree Calling, named for its studio, differs from its US counterparts by spotlighting stage performers rather than its contract players. If nothing else, we get a good idea of what a night in an English music hall was like.

Unfortunately, these entertainers are likely as unrecognizable and dated in their homeland nearly a century later as they are here. So instead of Noel Coward, we get the likes of Will Fyffe and his incessant stingy Scots jokes, and the army boot-wearing Lily Morris singing about being a bridesmaid and never a bride. (You can imagine audiences at the time cooing, "Isn't she a dearie?"). A scene from The Taming of the Shrew featuring an anachronistic runaway motorcycle and pie fight may amuse you, but I doubt it. To my eyes and ears, the most entertaining performers are (coincidentally?) American by birth: obese xylophonist Teddy Brown, and The Three Eddies, a dizzying trio of tap dancers who, as was not uncommon at the time, wore blackface over their real black faces. Don't ask. 

A couple other differences from the American revues: Elstree Calling features a linking story with a guy at home trying to watch the movie on his television (yes, in 1930). And instead of using Technicolor in the big musical numbers, Elstree opted for the way-cheaper hand-tinted Pathecolor, a technique not widely used in years, giving it either a dreamy or cheesy look depending on your point of view. The audio isn't a whole lot better, either -- while the music comes across fine, many actors often sound distant from the microphones. While nicely restored, Elstree Calling has gone from being a must-see to a who's-he and a why-that. But have you heard the one about the Scotsman who hailed a taxi to the hotel?...

BONUS POINTS: Alfred Hitchcock, on the cusp of being recognized as the UK's preeminent moviemaker, is credited as directing "the sketches and other interpolated items". One of his sequences, a husband catching his wife and her lover in the act, not only has his unmistakable touch, but gave me the one laugh in the whole picture.

THE WIZARD'S APPRENTICE  (1930): A young, smartass student of magic decides to impress a woman by making a broom carry water from the basement. And if you've seen Fantasia, you know how that little stunt worked out.

Things didn't go any better over a decade earlier in this one-reeler designed by the legendary William Cameron Menzies. A silent short accompanied by Paul Dukas's famous musical piece, The Wizard's Apprentice can't possibly live up to the Disney version (which had the title of the poem it's based upon, The Sorcerer's Apprentice). Yet the 1930 film, in its own modest way, is more bizarre. 

The Wizard's Apprentice, you see, is live-action, meaning those really are miniature brooms creating havoc. And unlike Disney's, these brooms are upside down (or rightside up -- it's up to you). The film's creators don't hide the fact that the props are connected to wires which have some kind of spring contraption to crudely move the legs from side to side. Between that not-so-special effect and the (all together now) faded print, The Wizard's Apprentice has the uncanny resemblance to a genuine nightmare. The question remains: was this the inspiration for the more-famous remake? Hey, Walt Disney needed to see a rodent scurrying around his office to get the idea of Mickey Mouse, so why the hell not?

BONUS POINTS: The title character is played by Fritz Feld. If the name doesn't ring a bell, perhaps you know him as an older character actor who made a career of playing maître d's, and ended every comment by popping his open mouth with his hand. Now do you remember?

FLAXY MARTIN (1949): Mob mouthpiece Walter Colby goes on the lam after being framed for murder by his no-good girlfriend Flaxy Martin and his client Hap Richie. Hap's gunsel Roper tracks Colby to the home of kindhearted Nora Carson, and kidnaps the pair. Colby and Nora escape and make their way back to Manhattan. After making sure Nora is safely ensconced with a friend, Colby tracks down the real murderer, only to find him dead at the hands of Roper, who tries to do the same to him. A visit by Colby and Hap Richie to the two-timing Flaxy looks like it's going to be lights out for everyone involved, but only one bites the dust, while another has to face the music. 

For a movie called Flaxy Martin, the title character doesn't stick around very long after the second reel. Perhaps screenwriter David Lang was trying to remind audiences of the 1942 hit Roxy Hart, about a similar no-good dame (and the basis of the musical Chicago). Virginia Mayo does a good job as the self-serving, two-timing doll who pits the lawyer and the gangster against each -- her subtle sneers are a wonder to behold -- but Zachary Scott is the real star as Colby.

One of those actors I've heard of but whose movies rarely watched, Scott here bounces back and forth between slimy and heroic and back again. Maybe it's the thin moustache, or his occasionally bombastic delivery. But what really distracted me was how often looks identical to the caricatures of John Barrymore in old Warner Brothers cartoons. On the other hand, Douglas Kennedy (as Hap) resembles Bishop Fulton J. Sheen if the latter had lifted weights and enjoyed the occasional glass of scotch. Happily, the ever-reliable Elisha Cook, Jr. as the slimy Roper looks like himself, which is nothing but positive. Though there are better noirs than Flaxy Martin to be sure, it's worth it for the callbacks (how many times have I seen that apartment balcony?), cliches (wet streets at night, cinematographer's delight!), and cars (by 1949, they were designed the way a nine year-old would draw them). You might not watch it a second time, but you'll get a kick out of it the first.

BONUS POINTS: As usual in these New York-based movies written in Hollywood, the apartment building of the first murder victim -- 652 East 86th St. -- would place it in the middle of Carl Schurz Park.

HEDDA HOPPER'S HOLLYWOOD (1960): Along with her rival Louella Parsons,
gossip columnist Hedda Hopper was the original Twitter scold. Stars trembled when she put poison pen to paper exposing their randy love lives or left-leaning politics. But by 1960, she had become an anachronistic, impotent symbol of everything that was wrong with so-called journalism.

The one-shot TV special Hedda Hopper's Hollywood reflects her yearning for the good old days, providing, at times, a surprisingly poignant trip down memory lane. To her credit, Hopper stays out of the way, allowing the actors to speak for themselves. Stephen Boyd, fresh from co-starring in Ben-Hur, chats with the stars of the original 1925 version, Ramon Navarro and Francis X. Bushman. In an unusual case of an actor giving credit to somebody else, Bob Cummings describes how director Ernest Lubitsch saved his career 20 years earlier. An unsteady Marion Davies welcomes the audience to her home before likely returning to her sick bed. Bob Hope (no surprise) treats his appearance as an excuse to try out new material for his next special, while, in a genuinely emotional moment, the dying Gary Cooper makes one of his final TV appearances to speak fondly of the Western genre he loved.

Young Hollywood gets its turn, too. John Cassavetes obligingly sucks up to Hedda, appropriately on the set of The Phantom of the Opera. Anthony Perkins's opinion of Hollywood is mildly negative, something Hopper would have decried a decade earlier. Nepo-babies Jody McRae and Teddy Rooney make zero impression. But leave it to 14-year-old Liza Minnelli to steal the show with her rendition of "Over the Rainbow". Hedda Hopper might have been a bitch in real life, but she unwittingly presented an hour of television that's become even more bittersweet with time.

BONUS POINTS: Ricardo Cortez takes a few minutes off from his new career as a stockbroker to offer a tribute to his one-time leading lady Greta Garbo. Not only is Cortez's voice unchanged from his movie days, he still has that wonderfully sinister smile!

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