THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 38

 The only thing these four movies have in common is murder. I must get out in the fresh air some more.

PICCADILLY (1929): Likely one of the last great silent movies out of the UK, Piccadilly is probably one of the handsomest as well, a big-budget drama that could pass for a major US studio release (no offense to the British film industry), and a terrific vehicle for German director E.A. DuPont as much as its star Asian-American legend Anna May Wong. From its clever opening credits (resembling bus advertisements) to its ironic closing images, Piccadilly is often startingly entertaining. 

For some sensitive souls, its story might border on -- oh heck, let's say proudly resides in -- Asian-fetishization. Which is the whole point, children. Nightclub owner Valentine Wilmot falls hard for scullery-worker-turned dancer Shosho. This puts him in dutch with Mabel Greenfield, his club's former star and longtime paramour. Shosho, having lived forever in a Limehouse flophouse, is more than willing to take advantage of Wilmot's attentions, even if it means risking the relationship with her Chinese boyfriend Jim. Both Jim and Mabel notice what's going on; sooner or later one of these saps is going to snap.

One of Piccadilly's more interesting takes is how the principal Chinese characters positively drip with contempt for their white "betters". (King Hou Chang, as Jim, puts a whole new spin on the fine art of sneering.) Say what you want about Wong's Shosho, she is 100% in charge of her relationship with Wilmot, even when such a thing was, if not verboten, at least frowned upon. (It's easy to think that top-billed Gilda Gray felt like her character Mabel while watching Wong steal the movie from under her dancing feet.)

Aside from Jameson Thomas as Wilmot, a couple of other actors are worth a mention. If you were one of those kids in the 60s who watched Mary Martin's Peter Pan, you'll likely not recognize its Captain Hook, Cyril Ritchard, in his brief role as a dancer. But you absolutely cannot miss 30 year-old Charles Laughton in his even briefer part as the grotesque, demanding guest eating dinner at the club, in what looks like the prototype for the character of Mr. Creosote in Monty Python and the Meaning of Life. Almost a century after its release, the British Film Institute's restored print of Piccadilly (and its classy new score) can easily hold the attention of a willing, receptive audience.

BONUS POINTS:  Piccadilly has a five-minute sound prologue featuring Jameson Thomas and an unidentified actor setting up the story, filmed as a sop for audiences who were already turning their back on silents. Technically crude and creaky, it's a harbinger for what movies would become for the next year or two before coming up to speed.

THE KISS BEFORE THE MIRROR (1933): Vienna: Land of sausages! Snow globes! Murdering your wife for cheating on you! Well, at least that what Walter Bernsdorf thinks. As his lawyer, Paul Held, tries to put together a defense, he discovers that his wife, Maria, is behaving identically to how Walter's wife Lucy did before her demise. If a plea of momentary insanity works in Walter's case, then it should in Paul's, yes? 

Although a Universal picture, The Kiss Before the Mirror gives off Paramount vibes with its glossy sophistication. All credit goes to its unlikely director James Whale, between his classics Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein. Perhaps interested in discombobulating his audience, Whale sets up the movie as a typical romantic comedy of the time, allowing viewers to live vicariously through the adulterous lovers, before Walter unexpectedly shows up to blow his wife's brains out. It's a director's way of saying, Not so cute, is it?

Paul Lukas, as Walter, is a little pathetic -- why do these "mature" guys marry younger women who are way too sexy for them? Yet he offers to plead guilty to murder rather than see Paul kill Maria. And what a pleasure that Paul is played by Frank Morgan, who, as with his appearance in Any Number Can Play, easily makes you forget his dithering comedic parts. This guy had far more range than given credit for.

The Kiss Before the Mirror's nominal star, Nancy Carroll, is Maria (another wife too young for her husband!), whose sweet-on-the-surface behavior flips when Paul rightly suspects her of adultery. But the more interesting casting choice is Walter Pidgeon in his five-minute role of Walter's wife's paramour. Pidgeon's leading man career had momentarily derailed; perhaps Whale took pity on a fellow gay man by giving him what looks like a one-day job. (Pidgeon's primping and pirouetting before his date with Lucy appears to be a deliberate directorial signal to hipper audiences of the day). A forgotten gem, The Kiss Before the Mirror is marred only by what seems to be a studio-imposed happy ending -- which is nicely undercut by a shattered mirror symbolizing Paul and Maria's very imperfect future together. At least that's how I see it.

BONUS POINTS: Michael Mark, best known as the father of the drowned little girl in Frankenstein, is a courtroom spectator. James Whale sure was good to his friends and actors. 

 WHEN STRANGERS MARRY (1944): At the time of When Strangers Marry's release, Orson Welles declared the modest B-picture better directed (by William Castle) and acted than two recently acclaimed big budget releases, Double Indemnity and Laura. And while Welles's opinion is up for debate, When Strangers Marry is nevertheless several cuts above the average B of the time.

In presenting the story of a woman's marriage to a man she's known only three days -- and soon suspects of murder -- Castle manages to evoke more unease than the story has already. Sudden noises, harsh neon lights, confusion as to whether she's seen her husband or has hallucinated him -- no scene ends without a moment of foreboding. No supporting character actor looks ordinary when weird will do. In portraying the couple, Kim Hunter and Dean Jagger manage to squeeze every drop of angst the story offers, while soaking up some more and wringing it out again. Her husband, after all, is a killer... isn't he?

Kim's ally in this nightmare is Fred Graham, played by a fellow named Bob Mitchum. It would be interesting to know what audiences at the time thought of the tall, sleepy-eyed, drawling actor, seeing that even for a B movie he was way different from others of the day. It's a good bet that co-star Neil Hamilton, a veteran of silents, probably looked upon him as other older actors did Marlon Brando some years later: Who is this guy, where is he from, and why does he talk like that?

Within a year, when everyone definitely knew who he was, Monogram re-released When Strangers Marry as Betrayed, changing Bob to Robert to reflect his "new" billing in his star-making role in The Story of GI Joe, and bumping him from third to first place in the credits. As with Humphrey Bogart "starring" in a 16 year-old movie Call it Murder originally titled Midnight, Mitchum probably had a good laugh and toasted the ticket-buyers who were fooled into watching the same movie twice. But you know what? It was worth it. When Strangers Meet may not be Double Indemnity, but it's singularly fascinating, almost entirely thanks to William Castle's unique vision. 

BONUS POINTS: The nearly dialogue-free sequence of Mildred and Paul avoiding the police by wandering through Harlem before winding up at a gin joint is brilliant, and possible only in a B movie.

GREEN FOR DANGER (1946): At a small-town hospital in wartime England, Police Inspector Cockrill investigates the mysterious death of patient Joseph Higgins and flat-out murder of Nurse Bates. Sizing up two doctors and three nurses, Cockrill notes that they're the only ones who were connected to the victims. When one of them, Nurse Freddie Linley, almost becomes the third victim, Cockrill decides he can break the case with a scheme that could leave her on death's door a second time.

The British production Green for Danger is as good an example as any of David Mamet's dictum that any movie can be improved by getting rid of the first 10 minutes. Over half an hour is needed setting up the suspects' personal, psychological and sexual conflicts that would make Fleetwood Mac envious. But when Inspector Cockrill finally takes charge, the story finally works up to a good trot.

As with all good vintage mysteries, Green for Danger's suspects appear to have a motive, or at least act that way, so that our suspicions of the guilty party shift from moment to moment. A love triangle involving Nurse Freddie and the two doctors? The anesthesiologist's previous accidental patient death becoming known? And why did the mailman insist he heard a nurse's voice somewhere recently -- like maybe on a Nazi shortwave propaganda broadcast -- just before his death? 

Yet none of this would matter without Alastair Sim's wonderful, hilarious portrayal of the inscrutable Cockrill. The inspector takes delight in needling the suspects with his keen mind, dry wit, and quiet sarcasm. With a slouched manner and cool fedora, Sims makes Cockrill the British Sam Spade, only funny. Had Green for Danger starred almost any other British actor of the '40s, it would be a pleasant if unremarkable 90 minutes. With the brilliant Alastair Sim running the show, it proves how a truly great actor can, depending on your point of view, elevate a project or fool you into thinking you're watching a movie better than it really is. 

BONUS POINTS: Despite the credits reading "Presenting Alastair Sim as Inspector Cockrill", this was his 35th movie appearance in 11 years. Either Green for Danger was intended as the first in a series with the Cockrill character, or someone at the studio was really unfamiliar with his C.V.

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