THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 32

 It pays to have subscriptions to arcane YouTube channels. They allow me to discover movies and TV shows that I would have otherwise missed, and you to learn about. Lucky you(?).

NIGHT WORLD (1932): Got an hour? Drop by Happy's Club on East 53rd Street, where owner Happy MacDonald is dealing with a bootlegger trying to muscle in on his territory. Club choreographer Klauss is having a little horizontal refreshment with Happy's wife Jill, who's trying to get her husband out of the way, permanently. Tough guy Ed Powell is putting the moves on showgirl Ruth Taylor. Ruth, immune to his "charms", is trying to nurse Michael Rand back to sobriety following the love-triangle murder of his father by his mother. And club doorman Tim Washington is waiting for word on the condition of his hospitalized wife. Make sure to duck when five people in a row are shot to death. Check, please!

How is it that a studio could release a 57-minute movie that packs more storylines than this year's lengthy Oscar-nominees combined, yet takes place in just one evening? Night World is kind of a prototype of the previously discussed Club Havana but with pre-code elements: sex, violence, bootleg booze, adultery, double-entendres, sexy showgirls in skimpy outfits under the tutelage of Busby Berkley, and a running gag involving a gay man. While the budding romance between Ruth and Michael is the main plot point, it's the other characters and situations that keep that Night World chugging along. I mean, what do you want to see, a couple of kids falling in love, or gangsters, guns, and slinky dancers in their dressing room?

Lead actors Lew Ayres and Mae Clarke are fine as Michael and Ruth, but it's the co-stars we've come to see. Fresh from his star-making turn in Frankenstein, Boris Karloff is no less threatening as Happy MacDonald, whose nickname and friendly smile don't disguise the violence lurking underneath. George Raft makes what he can of his brief appearance as the slick yet crude Ed Powell, one of his earliest credited roles. As Mike's shockingly cruel mother, Hedda Hopper gives us a taste of her future gossip columnist style. But it's black character actor Clarence Muse who, as in Black Moon, proves himself at least the equal of his white co-stars (and better than most), bringing humanity and wisdom to his role of Tim Washington, the club's philosophical doorman. Forget the lovebirds -- it's him you're rooting for. Yes, there's a lot going in Night World, all of it worth watching.

BONUS POINTS:  Night World's dizzying opening montage of Times Square theaters, streetwalkers, speakeasies and murderers is still an unexpectedly wild sequence. And look for a young Jack LaRue as a jittery gunman at the climax. 

HISTORY IS MADE AT NIGHT (1937): Good title, strange movie. Comedy! Romance! Drama! Murder! Cultural stereotypes, marital violence, disaster... Only an independent producer like Walter Wanger could have released something this schizophrenic; no studio would have understood it. I'm not sure any would today. 

While in Paris, shipping magnate and all-around nut Bruce Vail frames his estranged wife Irene's new lover, Paul Drummond, for a murder that he committed. Irene is forced return to New York with Bruce; Paul, still unidentified as the alleged murderer, gives chase along with his Chico Marx-style friend Cesare. Irene eventually crosses path with Paul, who, when finding out he's wanted for murder, does the noble thing and returns, with Irene, to Paris on a cruise ship built by Bruce. But midway through the voyage while sailing through a heavy fog in cold waters...

Forget it, you wouldn't believe it. In fact, everything in History is Made at Night is unbelievable, even by Hollywood standards. If it works at all it's because of Charles Boyer and Jean Arthur in the leads -- somehow you believe them even if everything else is ridiculous. Colin Clive is flat-out sociopathic as Bruce, throwing the movie even more off-balance whenever he's onscreen. His is a fascinating, unsetting performance; it's hard to tell if it's due to Frank Borzage's direction or Clive's real-life alcoholism (which killed him weeks after the movie's release). Today, many people name History is Made at Night as their favorite movie ever. Your mileage may vary. Mine sure did, but not enough to end the trip before it was over.

BONUS POINTS: Fourteen years later, History is Made at Night's producer Walter Wanger pulled the jealous husband routine himself by shooting the guy he suspected having an affair with his wife, actress Constance Bennett. 

FINDERS KEEPERS (1955): You can't expect any game show called Finders Keepers to possess a morsel of sophistication. But my God, my God, my God!  It's astonishing people actually carved 30 minutes out of their lives every week to watch dreck like this. If you wonder why its network, DuMont, eventually went out of business, look no further.

As with DuMont's other dreadful game show, the previously-discussed Auction-Aire, the New York-based Finders Keepers depends on the telephonic participants at their homes in the tri-state area, each of whom are certain that they will win the top prize: a piano, a new Westinghouse kitchen ("every woman's dream"), and a trip for two to Paris (combined worth: $3,000!).  "Girl Friday" Peggy O'Shea hides a tag somewhere on a set that resembles a living room and kitchen. The jolly house organist then plays a few bars of a song to provide a hint of the hiding place. The contestant at home then has to tell an audience member where to look, while also responding to the audience's cheering or silence. Then the home contestant has to identify a photo of a building to win the big prize. Otherwise, they get a tea set and a carton of Coca-Cola. Lower gift taxes to pay, I suppose.

Over-caffeinated host Fred Robbins really gets the thrills when introducing guest Richard Egan as tag hunter for one round. Egan, doing a pretty good job hiding his embarrassment, is almost as creepy here as he is in Hollywood Story. As he runs around the set trying to find the tag, you can almost hear him think, "This is what I have to do to plug my latest movie?" Airing only five months, Finders Keepers probably provided vital clues for Goodson-Todman Productions in creating hit game shows like To Tell the Truth, Password, and I've Got a Secret: Let celebrities be the contestants, have them play in person, and keep the damn thing simple! And for those who care, the "mystery" photo no one can identify is the Museum of the City of New York on Fifth Avenue. 

BONUS POINTS: One of the audience contestants is a nervous girl no older than ten. For her participation, she wins a dog. Her reaction signals that she already has a dog her parents hate, and this one will get tossed in the nearest alley.

THE INVISIBLE CITY (1961): Made for WCBS-TV, the Emmy-nominated The Invisible City is not a sci-fi cheapie -- it's a documentary cheapie. And it's about New York. Or, rather, the areas and people the average city dweller never saw or met in 1961, and still don't today. The captain of the Staten Island Ferry. A guy who washes the windows of the Chase Manhattan skyscraper. The lucky folks who live in the Turtle Bay area with their own private park. A seamstress still happily working at Bergdorf Goodman since forever. And it's a fascinating snapshot of not only of a city on the cusp of radical change, but of a style of non-fiction TV as forgotten as its subjects are today.

The narration, gently spoken by Eddie Albert, is the same style used in the intros to the then-current Naked City series -- prose poetry, lifting up rather than speaking down to the audience. The New Yorkers examined are the folks who keep the city humming -- or, like the Turtle Bay residents, provide us with insight to what life was like compared to growing up 30 or 40 years earlier. And you can see some of those changes. Older businessmen still wearing hats, as the up-and-comers go without. Middle-aged women donning white gloves, while their daughters prefer the casual look. Commuters reading the Times on paper rather than iPhones. And smokers. Lots of smokers.

Producer Warren Wallace interviews his subjects with respect and genuine interest. Filmed on black & white 16mm film in cramped quarters -- the window washer's wife is in her modest kitchen -- these sequences are simple and unglamorous, the voices echoey or competing with ambient sound. The music accompanying Albert's narration is very 1961, bordering on modern classical. Compare The Invisible City to today's scrubbed and scripted "reality" series, and weep for current TV viewers. Actually, don't bother. They wouldn't understand anything this good.

BONUS POINTS: The score is performed by the CBS Chamber Orchestra. Yes, there was a time when TV networks had such a thing.

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