THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 21

While many "Early Show" entries are strictly for crackpots like me, I've included YouTube links to a couple here that are more mainstream, while maintaining the blog's desire for the obscure and the unwonted -- or unwanted, depending on your tastes. 

DAUGHTER OF THE TONG (1939): You can't expect much from a gangster movie with
characters named Lefty and Muggsy, and Daughter of the Tong underdelivers as expected. Chronicling FBI agent Ralph Dickson's assignment going undercover to break up a human smuggling ring in L.A.'s Chinatown, it borrows from two other previously discussed B-movies, Gangs of New York and Yellow Cargo, while improving on neither.

This doesn't mean Daughter of the Tong lacks entertainment value. Like other low-budget indies of the time, second takes were a luxury; thus, we see walls shake when doors shut, and the reflection of a camera crew filming a car. Lacking the finances to hire stuntmen, the stars are obliged to handle the fight scenes themselves (most "punches" don't even connect). Since we're in Chinatown, obligatory racism is offered up, as when Dickson refers to a henchman as "a glorified laundryman" and the title character as "a slant eyed-lady who looks like Mrs. Fu Manchu." I'm not sure if the latter wisecrack is more insulting to Asians or the audience -- outside of wearing a black wig, she looks about as Chinese as Tina Fey. 

Director Raymond K. Johnson does everything he can to pad Daughter of the Tong to (almost) 60 minutes. Opening credits that list everyone in the movie. An endless montage of a newspaper going to press just for a shot of one headline. An ultimately fruitless car chase which does nothing to movie the story along (at least it was shot on location with the actors really driving). Worn-out police footage "borrowed" from another, older movie. When the daughter of the tong (oddly named Carney) shouts at her minions, "Fools! Idiots! Imbeciles!", she might as well be talking to the people who made the movie. I enjoyed every minute of it, but not enough for a second time.

BONUS POINTS: Co-star Dave O'Brien played the pot-head shouting "Faster! Faster" to the pianist in Reefer Madness. 

SYNCOPATION (1942): Syncopation is the story of how the descendants of enslaved Africans created jazz, which was then polished for the masses by white musicians. Heavily fictionalized characters based on, among others, Louis Armstrong, King Oliver, and Paul Whiteman go in and out of the story, which focuses primarily on Kit Latimer (Bonita Granville) and her love interest, coronet player Johnny Schumacher (Jackie Cooper). They dig the New Orleans sound, which Johnny and his band gradually turn into the Chicago style, which, to me, seems different only because gangsters shoot at each other in the nightclubs.

As with many of the rock & roll pictures a decade later, Syncopation features older folks (like Kit's dad George, played by Adolphe Menjou) initially disapproving of this newfangled music the kids groove to, but gradually learn to enjoy it themselves. In one of the movie's less believable moments, a jury deciding the fate of Kit, who was arrested for playing jazz at a house party(!), can't help but tap their toes when she demonstrates her style during the trial. Maybe Trump should take piano lessons.

Produced and directed by William Dieterle, Syncopation seems to exist mainly for the climactic appearance by the so-called All American Jazz Band (voted on by Saturday Evening Post readers). Benny Goodman, Charlie Barnett, Alvino Rey, Harry James, Joe Venuti, Jack Jenny, and Gene Krupa blow the roof off the studio in a performance that's as exciting today as it was over 80 years ago. (Krupa, likely hopped-up on speed, beats the drum kit like it insulted his mother.) While Syncopation isn't groundbreaking, it's different from similar movies of its time, from its slavery-linked prologue to its startingly abrupt blackout of an ending. It has style. And it actually gives credit to black Americans for laying the groundwork for the big band/swing movement of the time. Some kind soul illegally uploaded the restored version of Syncopation to YouTube, so if you're interested, click here before the authorities find out.

BONUS POINTS: The opening credits list the actors and crew respectively with IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA and BEHIND THE CAMERA without mentioning their characters or jobs. Only in the closing credits -- still a rarity in 1942 -- do you find out exactly who did what. Style, baby, style!

YOUR WITNESS (1950): Sporting a title more appropriate for a '50s TV courtroom drama, Your Witness is actually a pretty decent UK production starring and directed by Robert Montgomery (in his final movie role). New York lawyer Adam Heyward flies to a British village when his old army buddy Sam Baxter -- who saved his life during World War II -- is arrested for murder. Heyward pokes around the village trying to find the unknown witness to the crime who could prove Baxter was acting in self-defense as claimed. As he becomes friendly with the families of Baxter and the village's high sheriff, Heyward becomes even more personally involved in the case.

Either the one-sheet to the right was designed by someone who didn't see the movie or was trying to make it look noirish. Your Witness is, like the village it takes place in, a rather quiet mystery where every clue turns cold while Heyward's friendship with the high sheriff's daughter heats up. The victim was a well-known philanderer (which is why Baxter believes the witness he didn't see but heard breathing was a woman), yet the villagers are convinced Baxter murdered him in cold blood. Also working against Heyward is his unfamiliarity with the ways and means of British law, along with the local customs, accents and slang, leading to a few amusing moments of utter misunderstanding between English-speaking people from different countries and backgrounds.

Older British movies often go a little overboard when Americans are concerned. Here, it occurs when the opening credits are accompanied by an inappropriate big band-style theme that was old-hat by 1950.  Robert Montgomery's direction, however, is similar to his acting style: subtle almost to the point of being imperceptible -- I've never seen him blink in any of his movies. His gaze can be unnerving before he suddenly smiles and you realize he isn't a killer.  A forgotten movie, Your Witness can be found on YouTube here in an excellent print complete with its original British censors' approval. Like Syncopation, it's worth a viewing when you're sick of Netflix.

BONUS POINTS: The high sheriff is played by Leslie Banks from I Am Suzanne! and Transatlantic Tunnel, two of the stranger movies on this blog. And that's saying a lot.

PLAYBOY'S PENTHOUSE (1959): Hugh Hefner's reputation has taken such a
beating since his death that younger people might find it shocking that there was a time when he not only had a weekly late-night talk/ entertainment series, but that it was considered sophisticated stuff in its time. This episode is probably the most interesting of what survives of Playboy's Penthouse series.  

Its concept is that we've dropped in on a little soiree at Hef's pad in Chicago -- in reality, a television studio done up to look like the real thing. You can almost smell the cigarette smoke, men's Aqua Velva and the Intermezzo on the women as you enter to the classy Cy Coleman Trio playing the swanky theme song. But wait, who's that over there? Why, it's Lenny Bruce, entertaining the ladies with his Jerry Lewis impression before sitting down later for a serious chat with Hef and the current Playboy playmates. Is Lenny in full hepcat mode or just stoned? It's difficult to tell; he doesn't really start firing on all cylinders until telling a funny true story about a doctor who treated a little girl who fell down a well only to send the family a bill later. If you're only familiar with Lenny's albums, you'll be happy to know his face goes perfectly with the voice.

Hey, guess what -- Nat "King" Cole just dropped by, not to entertain, but join the conversation with Hef, Lenny, and author Rona Jaffe, who's discussing her first novel The Best of Everything. Getting itchy for some jazz? You're in luck: Ella Fitzgerald arrives to belt out a few numbers before it's time to say goodnight. Say what you want about Hugh Hefner, but here was a show in pre-Civil Rights America featuring a black guy sitting on a couch with some white men and women, and a black woman treated like the queen of show business.  Everybody's well-dressed, articulate, and nobody's playing beer-pong. Whatever the hell Playboy "ethos" means anymore, TV could use a little of it these days (and nights).

BONUS POINTS: Before Ella Fitzgerald sings, Hef plays a recording of her scatting her lungs out at the recent Playboy Jazz Festival. Think it's strange watching a bunch of people sitting around listening to a record? Hey, haven't you been known to do the same thing at your parties, with or without the singer dropping by?

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