THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 49

 By sheer coincidence, there are two movies about brain-control -- the same situation I find myself in whenever I notice the YouTube app. 

ROAR OF THE DRAGON (1932): You know the story about the Alamo, right? OK, move the location from Texas to Manchuria. Now change the Alamo to a hotel, Davy Crockett to a drunken riverboat captain, the American soldiers to tourists, and the Mexicans to Chinese bandits. Presto: Roar of the Dragon. 

Richard Dix returns to these pages as Capt. Carson, the cynical sot who finds his purpose in life when under fire. (Unsurprisingly, Dix is less believable playing a drunk than when he really was drunk in the Whistler movies.) He's got the hots for Natascha, the girlfriend of bandit-leader Vronksy. Natascha is played by Gwili Andre, RKO's unasked-for answer to Greta Garbo (or is it Marlene Dietrich?). While Andre is a looker and fairly sexy, her talent is limited to keeping her eyelids at half-staff -- there's a reason why Roar of the Dragon was the highlight of her brief movie career before returning to whence she came, modeling. In front of camera, I mean, not with clay.

Other than ZaSu Pitts and her "oh dear" hand-fluttering routine, the most familiar supporting actor is the great Edward Everett Horton, who gets a dramatic turn -- perhaps for the only time in his career -- when the woman he loves is killed by a bandit. Grabbing a machine gun, the formerly timid Horton starts firing like a madman before getting knifed in the back. Want more unexpected violence? Well, there's an elderly Jewish man getting captured by the bandits, trussed up on a pole and set on fire, forcing Carson into machine-gunning him to death to put him out of his misery. 

One of the loudest early talkies I've ever experienced, Roar of the Dragon features people yelling, guns firing, music blaring, and babies crying (no child-protective services here!), almost continually during its 69 minutes While the pace drags a bit during its final third, you sure won't fall asleep. 

BONUS POINTS: A newspaper headline reads RIVERBOAT CAPTAIN BEATS OFF BANDITS. Now wait a minute!...

REVOLT OF THE ZOMBIES (1936): One of the all-time great movie promotional images -- but anyone wanting to see a full-scale zombie revolt will have to fast-forward to the final three minutes. Otherwise, this is one of those low-budget indies about a man straying where no man should go. Like, into certain low-budget indies.

Armand Loque has discovered the secret of zombie-making in post-World War I French Cambodia. This little talent comes in handy when he decides to take over the village where he and his fellow-geeks are currently encamped. His ultimate target is Cliff Grayson, who is engaged to Claire Duval, the woman Loque loves. Why didn't this egghead put the spell on her?

Hoping to cash in (a little late) on their low-budget, now-legendary cult fave 1932 hit White Zombie, siblings Edward and Victor Halperin decided that any movie with the Z word would bring in the ducats. Not without Bela Lugosi, the star of the original, it wouldn't. Still, Dean Jagger does a fine job as the doomed Armand Loque. (I've always wondered why it took him so long to break into A pictures, since he's always better than his surroundings.) Too, Robert Noland, as Cliff, isn't bad either; where both actors fail is in their love-dovey moments with Dorothy Stone as Claire, where their dialogue sounds straight out of a 19th-century melodrama. 

Another drawback with Revolt of the Zombies is its shabby sets. While the Halperins were able to rent classy soundstages at Universal for White Zombie, here they had to settle for Jagger walking in front of a blow-up photo of Cambodia's Angor Wat temple to set the unconvincing scene. Even if current prints were restored (in addition to its rough quality, it's missing a few minutes), it would look older than a 1936 release. Whatever good can be gotten from Revolt of the Zombies is Dean Jagger's often sensitive performance and his occasionally uncanny resemblance to Anthony Perkins. Too bad there aren't all that many zombies.

BONUS POINTS: The tight close-ups of Jagger's eyes when he's turning on the hoodoo that he do so well belong to Bela Lugosi, lifted from White Zombie. Jagger was probably grateful not that have a light shining straight into his pupils.

THE LADY AND THE MONSTER (1944): Erich von Stroheim must have felt like he'd
hit the end of the road, getting third billing behind B-lister Richard Arlen and (gulp) top-billed Vera Hruba Ralston in a Republic picture with a goofy title. No need, though, for this is an unexpectedly good, if Hollywoodized, adaption of the bizarre 1942 novel Donovan's Brain by Curt Siodmak, who co-wrote the script. 

Prof. Franz Mueller and his assistant Dr. Patrick Corey have finally achieved the dream of keeping the brain from a dead man -- in this case, investor W.H. Donovan -- alive in a jar. Much to the dismay of Corey's sweetie Janice Farrell, Donovan starts communicating with him telepathically. (Dames are so jealous!). As Mueller juices up the formula in the jar to make the brain chattier, Corey receives orders to arrange a new trial for a young man imprisoned for murder. With his personality deteriorating to the point of violence, Corey's left with no choice but to silence the little girl who saw the prisoner at the murder site. Don't blame the man, blame the brain!

Republic Pictures opened the purse strings for The Lady and the Monster, giving it the sheen of a Warners production. Director George Sherman and his crew did a dandy job, too, lighting Richard Arlen's face in a way that reflects his ugly -- evil -- new personality. No longer in the Rolodexes of the major studios, Erich von Stroheim still has what it takes to make an audience take notice, reciting  dialogue in his typical clipped delivery as if he thought this were actually worthy of him.

Bringing up the rear as the nominal star, Vera Hruba Ralston can't even react convincingly to seeing a brain in a jar, appearing more like she's suffering from a mild case of dyspepsia. (In her many, many close-ups, she resembles Teri Garr satirizing her.) If Republic honcho Herbert Yates wanted to do his mistress a favor, he'd have kept out of pictures to avoid being made a laughingstock. Ms. Ralston's contribution and the unfortunate tacked-on happy ending aside, The Lady and the Madman is one of the cooler Republic productions.

BONUS POINTS: Several years earlier, George Sherman directed another sci-fi/medical/crime movie, The Return of Dr. X. You know, the one with Humphrey Bogart as a vampire. 

PLUNDER ROAD (1957): Sometimes, all you need in a movie is 75 minutes of a seemingly successful crime going to hell for everyone involved. If nothing else, Plunder Road will discourage you from robbing $10-million in federal gold bars, no matter how easy it looks. 

The crime itself is interesting because it's something of an updated Western, seeing that the five criminals pull off a train heist Utah before heading to California. But instead of riding horses, they're driving three trucks filled with the loot disguised as or hidden by other items. It's just a darn shame that they didn't anticipate police roadblocks going up. Guess they haven't watched enough movies!

Speaking of watching movies, Plunder Road has an interesting mix of actors in both familiar roles and playing against type. In the former is Stafford Repp (you remember him as the Irish cop in the Batman series) still in his bad guy years, forever obnoxiously chewing gum; the always-welcome Elisha Cook, Jr. looking forward to using his loot to move to Rio with his son; and the more-obscure Steven Ritch as Frankie, who puts his race-car skills to good use trying to avoid the cops. 

Yet the most interesting actors are former leading men Gene Raymond and Wayne Morris. Once A-listers, over time they aged out of their charming manner and good looks and into character parts like the ones they play here. Their grim expressions and cold-blooded ways -- Morris shoots an old gas station attendant without blinking an eye -- show a versatility denied during their star-making days two decades earlier. You have a rough idea of how they and the others in Plunder Road are going to wind up, but that's beside the point. It's the actors that count, and they make it worth watching.

BONUS POINTS: Plunder Road teaches you how to blow up a train with the fuse of a bomb hooked up to a dashboard cigarette lighter. Easier than you think!

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