THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 55

 Today's menu consists of two pre-codes, a B-movie starring a blog favorite, and a short best watched with the sound muted. Time to binge!

AFRAID TO TALK (1932): Just when you think pre-codes couldn't get more cynical, up pops Afraid to Talk. Bellboy Eddie Martin witnesses the murder of gangster Jake Stransky by fellow criminal Jig Skelli. What appears to be open and shut case becomes dead and buried, since Skelli has proof that the city's mayor, police commissioner, judges and the D.A.'s office were on Stranksy's payroll. Ergo, the bellboy has to take the fall. After hours of mental and physical torture, Eddie signs a confession. The Mayor and Judge, happy to collect kickbacks as long as mobsters are killing each other, want no part of this, and risk their own careers in order to free Martin. District Attorney John Wade, on the other hand, decides to arrange Martin's jailhouse murder to make it look like suicide. Your tax dollars at work!

Even for a misanthrope like me, Afraid to Talk was a disquieting 75 minutes. Not even the previously-discussed Vice Squad presents lawmakers in such a tawdry light. So much so that where it takes place is never made clear, since references are made to cities like Chicago, Detroit, and New York. (Pay no attention to Times Square's electric headline tickertape that's often seen.) Too, constant reference is made to protecting "the party" at all costs -- just don't ask which party. No wonder some Depression-hit jobless characters hope for a red revolution. The latter is due to Afraid to Talk's writer, Albert Maltz, being a real-life member of the Communist party. And we all know that lawmakers in Stalin's Russia were the most integrous of people.

Forget about the leads playing the bellboy and his bride; it's the bad guys (some pretending to be good) who own Afraid to Talk. Master character actor Edward Arnold, who could play nice guys when he wanted to, chews up the joint as Jig Skelli, the jolly gangster who enjoys bantering with the D.A. as much as he does killing off rivals. And speaking of the D.A., the underrated Louis Calhern is oilier than a tin of mackerel as John Wade, who marks the innocent Eddie Martin for death with the ease of ordering one of the countless cigars smoked here. And it won't be the last time you'll find yourself saying, "Oh my God!" either.

Yup, Afraid to Talk swings for the disreputable fences time after time. The only problems are its current so-so condition, and that it lacks the more downbeat alternate ending allegedly filmed for its European release. Even in its current state, though, Afraid to Talk puts to lie any talk about the "innocent days" of movies and how the studios were afraid to confront audiences with the hard truth about what their government leaders were (and still are) capable of. 

BONUS POINT: The corrupt cops giving poor Eddie the third-degree. Not that they're doing it, but how it's photographed in one take, the camera slowly tracking closer as the harsh overhead light swings lazily back and forth. We're spared seeing the subsequent torture, having to be content with hearing Eddie's agonized off-camera screams.

EAST OF FITH AVENUE (1933):  Sure, that "Grand Hotel of a New York boarding house" hype on the East of Fifth Avenue one-sheet is accurate. But it also feels like Columbia's answer to Sam Goldwyn's Street Scene, right down to the Gershwinesque opening theme. Both movies focus on the denizens of lower-middle class New York neighborhoods in a compressed timeline. Characters have money and family problems. But while Street Scene was a big budget adaptation of an acclaimed Broadway drama, East of Fifth Avenue is... well, like I said, a Columbia picture. 

No need to give the names of most of the characters or the actors. And while there are a lot of them -- the layabout poet, the elderly couple, the snake oil salesman among others -- two carry much of the movie. Kitty (Dorothy Tree) eagerly awaits the return of Vic (Wallace Ford), the fast-talking gambler who unknowingly knocked her up. And Vic does indeed show up -- with his wife Edna, a cracked Southern belle. It doesn't take long for Edna to get tired of the boarding house life, leading Vic to desperately find a thousand bucks to bet on a surefire 10-1 nag at the track. Kitty, still in love with him, borrows from the elderly couple, which sets into motion the climactic events that affect most of the boarders in different, shocking ways.

While most of the characters are more like caricatures, Dorothy Tree brings Kitty to life in East of Fifth Avenue's most believable performance, holding the story together during the goofy first half before it gets increasingly dramatic. Familiar utility actor Wallace Ford gives his typical wiseguy flair, only less grating than usual. Even better, he often gives hints of his better dramatic style that would dominate his future supporting roles. I came close to turning off East of Fifth Avenue (118 East 56th, to be exact) in the first half hour but was glad to stick with it, as it didn't necessarily play out as expected, especially with the elderly couple. It might not be a grand hotel but it's pretty good.

BONUS POINTS: By the end of the movie, you will have learned a dozen or so pre-code ways to say a woman is pregnant without really saying it. Best example: when Kitty is kicked out of a chorus line, one of the dancers sneers, "Say, I thought you had a lot of experience." To which Kitty replies, "Yeah, too much!"

THE SIX DAY GRIND (1935): Some not-so-good pictures are worth seeing just once
because they're short. Others, because they have historical significance. Still others because they're proof that what was once considered witty has aged like camembert sitting on the windowsill for a year. 

The Six Day Grind is all three. It's a one-reeler; it features genuine newsreel footage of the six-day bicycle race held in Madison Square Garden in 1935, an event at once fascinating and boring beyond human standards; and it stars the married comedy team of Goodman and Jane Ace, known on their radio sitcom as the Easy Aces. The couple were similar to Burns & Allen, with the long-suffering straightman playing off his scatterbrained wife. But while George Burns clearly adored Gracie and her "illogical logic", Goodman seems to have married the incredibly stupid Jane just to have someone to insult on a regular basis.

The "Ace High" shorts made for the Van Buren Studios in New York anticipate Science Fiction Theater 2000. In all of them, The Aces are at a movie theater, where Jane reads the opening credits in her Southern drawl, before commenting about the newsreel onscreen. Goodman needs to correct her throughout, eventually using his catchphrase, "Isn't that awful?" Well yes, it is, but not in the way he's implying. If these two were sitting near you in a real movie theater, you'd demand the usher throw them out on their unfunny butts. Comedians and writers alike held Goodman Ace in high regard back in the day, so either he was funnier writing for other people, or his style doesn't hold up.

But you know what? The bicycle race footage is fun to watch for 10 minutes. These guys zip around track at a lot of miles per hour, with the teams trading off riders in order to sleep and eat. Watch The Six Day Grind with a friend, turn off the volume, and make your own wisecracks. It'll be funnier than what the Easy Aces have to say. 

BONUS POINTS: During a break, biking champ Alfred LeTourneau sleeps in an "oxygen therapy service tent," allowing Jane to complain, "Oh, why can't he breathe the same air as the rest of us?" It's the closest thing to a funny remark she makes here. 

BETRAYAL FROM THE EAST (1945): Lee Tracy was nearing the end of his movie career and spending more time on stage when he made this patriotic drama based on the non-fiction book of the same name. In pre-Pearl Harbor Los Angeles, carnival barker Eddie Carter is approached by his old army buddy Kato -- you can guess his ancestry -- for information regarding U.S. military plans on the Panama Canal. When Carter approaches U.S. Naval Intelligence with his suspicions that Kato is up to no good, he eagerly accepts Uncle Sam's request to go undercover in the Japanese spy ring operating on the West Coast. Sure, it's dangerous, but's more exciting than bringing customers inside a tent at two bits per rube.

Hollywood was churning out anti-Japanese movies like ramen noodles during the War, usually making the "Japs" out to be barely one step above apes. Betrayal From the East goes in a slightly different direction. The spies are -- or at least pretend to be --respectful and well-mannered. And unlike the usual "ah so" characters of the time, Carter's friend Kato speaks perfect English without a trace of an accent. And while you might not recognize the names of the "enemy" character actors -- Richard Loo, Philip Ahn, Victor Sen Yung, Abner Bieberman (who wasn't even Japanese but could pass in a pinch) -- they fall into the "oh, that guy" category. Regis Toomey's eight-minute role as an American spy might disappoint his fans, but how many of them are there, anyway?

It wouldn't be a '40s spy drama without a little romance, so Eddie falls hard for fellow undercover agent Peggy Harrison -- who, as played Nancy Kelly, is about a quarter-century his junior. Her apparent death -- and later reappearance hanging out with German spies -- gives the movie an unexpected Vertigo-ish twist. (Her character's real death is genuinely unsettling.) 

No longer the motormouth from his pre-code days, Lee Tracy is now a little slower and paunchier. Still, his B-pictures like Betrayal From the East offer a welcoming presence for fans like me who wonder when he's going to get the look-who-we-discovered treatment by johnny-come-latelys like the New York Times and the Film Forum.

BONUS POINTS: Betrayal From the East is introduced by Drew Pearson, the muckraking political journalist whose newspaper column, "Washington Merry-Go-Round", was the talk of Washington. Over a decade earlier, his book of the same name was the basis of a great movie starring Lee Tracy. 

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MOVIE OF THE DAY: "THE PRESIDENT VANISHES" (1934)

There was plenty of political upheaval in early '30s America, reflected in the previously-discussed Washington Merry-Go-Round (the story of a freshman senator out to clean up the capitol) and Gabriel Over the White House (a crooked president awakens from a coma as a populist/fascist). Then there's The President Vanishes, which is far better than its cheesy, 1970s-TV movie title would have you think. 

As war breaks out in Europe, President Craig Stanley is adamant on America keeping out of it. The captains of industry, however, know a good thing when they see it, and decide that the country must get involved no matter what Stanley says. As one of them orates:

"Munitions is our business. And it's up to us to make it America's business. What good are steel, shells and shrapnel if there's nothing to shoot at? There's too much sentimental talk about the last war. What did it really cost us? Four hundred thousand casualties -- nothing! It gave us the greatest deal of prosperity any nation's ever had! But that war is worn out. There's another war in Europe now. And every day we delay getting into it is costing us a million dollars! Gentlemen, we have got to protect our industries!"

So cut the guy some slack, OK?

The President gets word that Russia has
invaded -- oops, wrong European war.

Congress, already bought and paid for by the industries, is ready to declare war. The Grey Shirts, a proto-fascist group secretly financed by oilman Richard Norton, march through cities breaking up anti-war speeches. This makes President Stanley even more determined to stay out of Europe. To quote Rocket J. Squirrel, "But that trick never works!" 

Actor Edward Arnold looks like he could be the
Secretary of War.

Just as Stanley is to appear before Congress, he vanishes from the White House grounds. Secretary of War Lewis Wardell, placed in charge of the investigation into the disappearance, brings in Lincoln Lee, the public face of the Grey Shirts, for questioning. Lee scoffs at being the kidnapper, admitting, however, that he'd be proud to have it known if he  assassinated Stanley instead. Now there's someone who knows where he stands.

Your tax dollars at work.

White House assistant Alma Cronin is approached by a shady character willing to pay good money for the  First Lady's diary, which he believes holds the key to the kidnapping. Alma's boyfriend, Secret Service agent Chick Moffat, urges her to go through with it, so he can arrest the suspect. The ruse almost works, until the guy slugs Moffat and takes off without the diary. Alma discovers the president's watch on the floor, assumes the guy dropped it, and tries to call the authorities. Moffat stops her by knocking her out with a punch to the jaw. A simple "Let me handle this" would have sufficed, but I'm not a federal agent.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm safe at home again.
Just don't ask for details."

After stuffing Alma into the back seat of the car -- remember, they're an otherwise happy couple -- Moffat goes to his apartment and sneaks out... President Stanley! They go to Grey Shirts headquarters, where Moffat ties up Stanley to a chair. Lincoln Lee, arriving after having been released from questioning, is of course a little surprised to see Stanley there. But not as surprised as when Moffat shoots him to death.

 That's right: The President of the United States, with the help of a small group of insiders, faked his own kidnapping and framed a political group so that the country would turn against them! The murder of its leader was just gravy. Bloody gravy.

The President Vanishes is jolting on many levels, and not just that whole President-faking-his-own-kidnapping angle. First, it's about a war in Europe that someone was predicting would happen five years hence. Second, the sheer cynicism regarding the human cost of war vis-a-vis its financial profits is echoed today by talking heads on the news promoting, yes, American involvement in a new European war as they sit on the boards of directors of munitions factories. (See Glenn Greenwald for details.) 

Don't look now, Mr. Anti-War Artist, but your
fellow Americans are coming for you.

Then there's the proto-fascists running riot in the streets, beating up anti-war activists and destroying art, all with the backing of the press barons, who come up with a slogan that people can latch onto: SAVE AMERICA'S HONOR. It's a little zippier than MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, I guess. 

Although they were 2/3 of The President Vanishes' writing team, Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur kept their name off the credits. They were following the lead of Rex Stout, who wrote the novel on which it was based under the name Anonymous. C'mon guys, what are you afraid of, a visit from the Grey Shirts?

As with many indie productions released by a studio -- in this case, Paramount -- The President Vanishes is available only in one cruddy-looking, public domain print. Maybe some of those captains of industry can stop trying to overthrow  the government for a minute and pay for a restoration. It's cheaper than creating a bunch of baseball caps plastered with SAVE AMERICA'S HONOR.

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To read about Washington Merry-Go-Round, go here.

To read about Gabriel Over the White House, go here.

MOVIE OF THE DAY: "EYES IN THE NIGHT" (1942)

One of the many things I love about old movies is their simplicity. Or is it the original audiences' simplicity? Because there are times you have to swallow an awful lot of malarkey with these things (which I happily do).

Take Eyes in the Night, a 1942 M-G-M programmer. While trying to clear a friend of murder, Police Captain Duncan McLain breaks up a Nazi spy ring. 

You'd trust a blind cop with a gun, right?

So far, so World War II. But what sets McLain apart from other cops is that he's blind. And like other blind cops, McLain has no problem getting the drop on bad guys with his own patented martial arts technique, or walking (with his seeing eye dog) to a greenhouse on a property he's never visited before. McLain even has perfect cursive handwriting. The only thing he can't do is explain how the hell he's capable of all of this.

Friday's ticked off because his
contract said nothing about
publicity stills.

And speaking of geniuses, his dog Friday can understand commands like "Hide behind the bed," "Take this message home," and, probably, "Make me a South Beach Martini, and don't be stingy with the Cointreau."  Friday is also capable of jumping 12-foot walls and figuring out how to escape from a locked basement by knocking over a pile of mattresses and... well, it doesn't matter. You wouldn't believe me, anyway. Suffice it to say, this mutt makes Rin Tin Tin look like Goofy. According to the credits, Friday is played by Himself, which is a strange name for a dog. (Memo to wife: That's a joke.)

"Four walls and a roof... or is it
four roofs and a wall?"

Smart as he is, Friday can't talk (yet), so McLain has a two-legged sidekick, Marty, to describe the surroundings when inspecting crime scenes. But when Marty's played by the perennially dim-witted Alan Jenkins, you know that the dog ultimately has the upper paw. Jenkins, on loan from Warner Bros., seems almost out of place in a Metro picture, even one on the lower-end of the budget spectrum as Eyes of the Night, but, as usual, is a welcome sight. Well, except for the blind cop.

Ann Harding is 41 but playing 50.
Donna Reed is 24 but playing 17 while
looking 35. The magic of Hollywood!

While it's always fun to see not-yet famous stars in early roles, it's even better when they're playing the opposite of what you're used to. And here, it's Donna Reed as the 17 year-old slutty bitch (or bitchy slut) Barbara Lawry, who's having an affair with her stepmother's ex-lover (the soon-to-be murder victim). In Eyes in the Night's final scene, Reed's character is going on a date with the middle-aged McLain. What people called a happy ending, we now refer to as "daddy issues."

"OK, anyone who isn't a Nazi, say 'aye.'"

I'm not sure how many Nazi spy rings there were in America, but judging from 1940s movies, you couldn't open a refrigerator without hearing "Sieg heil!" In Eyes of the Night, the krauts make up the theatre group Barbara Lawry belongs to and Norma's entire household staff. Didn't anyone hear of background checks?

I have no idea what's supposed
to be happening here.

Edward Arnold plays Capt. McLain with what used to be called his usual aplomb. Sophisticated, clever, almost happy to be blind, McLain doesn't let his affliction stop him from doing his job, although I wouldn't want to live in a town where there's a blind cop packing heat.

But Arnold's style is partly his undoing. Adept at playing villains (like Satan in the Metro short Inflation), he makes me just a little uncomfortable when a good guy, as in Eyes in the Night. There always seems to be something nasty simmering just below the surface, like a desire to kick his dog in the face without warning. (Paul Newman admitted basing his performance in the Coen Brothers' 1940s-style farce The Hudsucker Proxy on Arnold. Take it from someone who's seen it -- it was a bad idea.)

Maybe audiences didn't buy the blind-cop premise after all. The studio waited three years before making another McLain movie with Arnold before scuttling the whole idea. These were also Friday's only movie appearances. Not much of a call, apparently, for seeing-eye dogs working with blind cops. Typecasting's brutal, even if you can hide behind a bed on command.

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To read about Inflation, go here.

MOVIE OF THE DAY: "INFLATION" (1942)

The economic debate -- or rather, non-debate -- in Congress for seemingly the past triple eon has made Americans feel they've been dragged the roots of Hell. If you were conspiracy-minded, you'd probably think that Satan himself was behind the whole mess.

You'd be in good company, for in 1942 that's exactly what was implied when MGM released the short, Inflation. In just 15 minutes, audiences were given a crash course on the then-current economic crisis -- what inflation was, how it grows and how you, the American public, could put an end to it. And if you didn't pitch in, it was because you, the American public, were in the grips of the Devil himself. Literally.



It doesn't take much to amuse Satan.

The Devil makes his entrance proving he enjoys a good time as much as anyone, roaring with laughter as the
Axis-invaded nations go up in flames. But his fun is interrupted by a phone call from Hitler. The Fuhrer demands that something be done about America's gung-ho spirit. Not to worry -- the Devil, with the help of his sexy Executive Assistant, has just the thing to wreck the USA, just the way it did Germany in the early 1930s. Tainted sauerkraut, you  might think? Bad folk dancing? A shortage of blood sausage? No: inflation!


"We can't afford it -- let's buy it!"

Up on earth, Joe Smith has decided to blow his paycheck by taking the little lady on a spending spree. Four dresses and a fur coat later, Joe's ready to splurge on some new duds for himself. (In typical detached-from-reality movie manner, Joe, a construction worker, hankers for a top hat, walking stick, six ties and a bunch of jackets.) Just as he's ready to purchase a new radio, Joe's brought down to earth when President Roosevelt's dulcet voice comes over the air. With the ease of a Harvard professor, FDR explains the new economic facts of life: Quit spending so much! Joe decides he's done enough damage to the checkbook for the day.

The Devil is only momentarily discouraged before bouncing back. He and his assistant go to earth to personally drive American consumers to the dark side. Soon, people are buying silk stockings on the black market. Hoarding food. Cashing in War Bonds to buy cars. Toasting marshmallows without a permit. (I made up that last one.)

We're not talking preparing for the
Macy's parade, bub.

That does the trick. The Devil gleefully prepares Hitler for what's going to happen next to these greedy Americans.  Goods will disappear and prices will skyrocket, causing a Depression worse than America has just experienced. Wounded soldiers will never receive medical supplies. Mass hysteria will break out like a bed bug infestation on the Lower East Side. And all because you wanted an extra can of Crisco, you traitor.

Finally noticing the audience, the Devil generously invites us to move to his bailiwick: "You know, we have a lot to offer here. Parades. Guns. Racial superiority, heel-clicking, heil-calling. And the joy and glory of slaving and dying for a fuhrer."

Well, it's hard to turn down a solicitation like that -- how do we sign up? "Complain about taxes," he advises, "beef about price ceilings and wages and rents." (Welcome to New York!) "Do these things and you and I will get together much faster. Do these things and oblige my friend." He nods to the phone, where we hear Hitler screaming, "Sieg heil! Sieg heil! Sieg heil!" Per usual with long distance, the landline makes for a better connection than a cell.



Hey, he's got a pet crow -- he can't be
too bad a guy.

Long-time character actor Edward Arnold plays the Big Evil Guy himself. As with Alan Mowbray in The Devil with Hitler, the Devil dresses in formal attire and is the most cultured, well-mannered guy on the block.  Too, he possesses what can only be called a wicked sense of humor -- speculating that his new guests, German soldiers, will enjoy some warmth after fighting on the freezing Russian front.

And talk about articulate! When speaking to Hitler, the Devil makes sure to pronounce the "L" in "Adolf." If he ever wanted a career change, he could easily be a narrator on the Metropolitan Museum of Art's podcast tours.




In Hell, every room's a smoking room

Despite the movie poster atop this page, it's not at all clear that Hitler is really pulling the strings. The Devil, in fact, appears to be humoring his freund Adolf, letting him think that he's running the show.  But it's the Devil's chain-smoking assistant (played by Vicky Lane) who comes up with the whole inflation gag. To the Devil's credit, unlike many bosses he's open to suggestions. And if I had an assistant like her, I'd be open to anything. (Insert Bob Hope growl here.)

Despite the overall fantasy concept of Inflation, Mr. & Mrs. Joe Smith's shopping spree unwittingly captures a true-life marriage situation. See, the wife has no problem with Joe buying her a closet worth of new clothes on the installment plan. But as soon he starts treating himself to a couple of things, suddenly he's spending too much. Atta girl! You get yours and to hell with hubby! 

The only thing we have to fear is
profit itself.

Good thing the president sets them straight. In the calm, measured tones of someone who never had to look at a price-tag in his life, FDR explains that the cost of the war will mean higher taxes, wage and price controls, fewer goods and "heavier taxes [to] keep personal and corporate profits to low, reasonable rates." Just what counts as "reasonable," he never explains. What would you consider a reasonable profit for you, dear reader?



Esther Williams on land --
I didn't recognize her
with her clothes on.

As with other studios, MGM used its short subject department as something of a farm league for their newly-signed players. If they made a good impression, they'd get bumped up the B-movies. A few more hits and it was the A's. Inflation was no different, introducing swimmer Esther Williams (as Joe Smith's clotheshorse wife) to the movie-going public. She has a great moment at the electronics store, trying to convince Joe that the radio they currently own is good enough. No; the new one, he says, has better "pick-up." She quietly mutters "pick-up" with an exhausted shake of her head and roll of her eyes, like countless wives who just don't get their husbands' obsession with the latest gadget.

I sadly admit my grasp of economics is so poor that I learned more from Inflation than I had in my entire life. Other people are quick learners. Like Al Gore. The New York Times reported that the former Vice-President was eager to sell his laughingstock cable network Current TV to Al-Jazeera by December 31, 2012. Otherwise, he'd have had to pay higher taxes on his -- ahem -- reasonable profits.

Al Gore, deliberately avoiding paying higher taxes at the cost of the nation's good? The devil you say!

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For another example of Hollywood's take on the close, personal relationship between Hitler and the Devil, see my previous movie post here.