Dangerous Crossing (1953): Jeanne Crain Goes Crazy.... Or Does She?

Folks who follow this blog and its corresponding page on Facebook know what a fan I am of 1940's/50's cutie Jeanne Crain.  She never made it into the really big time but she had quite a run at 20th Century-Fox while it lasted.  Well, in 1953 that run ended and one of her last vehicles at the studio which had been her cinematic home for a decade, was Dangerous Crossing, a low(er) budget mystery-suspenser that did little to furthur her career or the careers of anyone associated with it.  However, it was the very first Jeanne Crain film I ever saw as a youngster and, though not very plausible at times, it really is a fun and suspenseful potboiler.

Based on a 1943 radio play called "B-13" by noted mystery writer John Dixon Carr, Dangerous Crossing follows the they're-crazy-as-a-bat, they-claim-their-relative-vanished-but-they-were-never-there-in-the-first-place plotline.  This style of mystery had been filmed several times before and would be afterward.  Besides Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes, one notable version of the theme was So Long at the Fair (1950), a British historical mystery with Jean Simmons.  Dangerous Crossing was actually remade as a TV movie in the 90's called Treacherous Crossing with Lindsay Wagner.

Ruth Bowman (maiden name Stanton) is a wealthy and beautiful yet emotionally unstable (or so it would appear) young bride (or so she says).  Okay, okay, I know I'm being vague here so I'll just get to it.  Ruth is on a passenger ship bound for England on her honeymoon.  We see her.  We see her groom, John.  The thing is, no one else sees them together on the ship and he up and disappears, making beautiful, confused Ruth seem off her rocker.  It's no wonder, as she is listed on the passenger list as Ruth Stanton and there is no Bowman listed.  To make matters worse when her past is looked into, she seems to have had some emotional issues regarding her father's death.

She interacts with various passengers and crew members as the puzzle just gets more and more tangled.  Among those trying to help her, either solve her mystery or just keep her sedated, is the handsome ship's doctor, Paul Manning (Michael Rennie; you knew he wouldn't be a troll, didn't you?).  As frustrated as she is with her situation, she can't help but be attracted to the tall doctor who is genuinely trying to help her.  So where's her husband?  Or did he even really exist?

As stated above, I love Jeanne Crain.  Her beauty and elegance are top notch in my book and she brought some fine performances to the table when challenged.  This, however, wasn't one of the most challenging ones.  She races around the ship with wide eyes expecting to see Frankenstein's monster at every turn.  When she's happy she's ecstatic and when she's stressed (which is often here) she takes the wide-eyed approach.  She's still lovely though and the movie is still fun.

Besides Crain and Rennie, the cast is scattered with various character actors of the day.  Longtime supporting actress Mary Anderson is on board (couldn't help the pun) as a stewardess who seems to know more than she should.  Casey Adams (aka Max Showalter), a Fox regular, oogles, respectfully of course, Crain as the ships Second Officer, and as the long lost hubby is Carl Betz, betz...uh, er best known as Dr. Alex Stone on the 1950's television comedy "The Donna Reed Show."  Also notable is a friendly and attractive passenger who befriends Ruth, Kay Prentiss, played by Marjorie Hoshelle, who just happened to be Mrs. Jeff Chandler in real life.

When she decided to leave 20th Century-Fox after ten years there, Crain said:  "Fox was wonderful to me but I wasn't happy for the last few years.  I wasn't permitted to go to other studios on loan-outs, and lost the leads in Quo Vadis and Carrie.  Other girls were signed for the roles I wantedat my own studio.  I asked for singing and dancing roles, but the answer was always 'no.'  Now, after ten years, maybe I'll get my big chance."  She didn't.  Nonetheless, she DID get to try a few different characterizations, as with Man Without a Star as a redheaded tough, yet glamorous, ranch owner, out to tame Kirk Douglas and The Joker is Wild (1957) with Frank Sinatra.  When she and Betty Grable, who left Fox shortly after, ended their tenure at the studio, their portraits in the Fox commissary were replaced by images of Terry Moore and Jean Peters.

Lady on a Train (1945): Deanna Durbin Solves a Mystery!

With a pert and high-spirited personality, strong, operatic singing voice and youthful confidence, Deanna Durbin was one of the most popular teenage stars of the classic movie age. Long forgotten by all but hardcore fans of Hollywood's golden age, Durbin has often been given credit for saving her home studio, Universal, from bankruptcy in the late 30's and early 40's and at one point she was the highest paid female star in Tinsel Town. Having a string of hits in her corner, this winsome warbler turned her back on Hollywood, retiring to France at the ripe old age of 27.

In 1945 Durbin was in transition from perky juvenile to sophisticated, though still vivacious, glamour girl. Lady on a Train showcased both a more adult Deanna, as well as her lilting singing voice, though, like most DD films, it would hardly be classified as a musical. It was however, the rare movie combination of comedy-mystery, with shades of the Bob Hope/Paulette Goddard classic, The Cat and the Canary.  It also has a film noir feel about it. Dark, moody lighting, guns being brandished and danger (as well as laughs) lurking just around the corner.

Nicki Collins is a pretty and ebullient young San Francisco socialite who witnesses a murder via a passenger train while en route to visit her aunt in New York. When she confronts New York's finest about the dirty deed she has observed, they blow her off as a crackpot when they discover she has been reading murder mysteries. The determined damsel sets out to initiate help from the author of one of her pulp fiction primers, Wayne Morgan (David Bruce), and solve the mystery herself.

While watching a newsreel in a local theater, Nicki discovers that the murdered gent was a well-known and wealthy businessman. She heads out to his Long Island estate, only to get entangled with his "grieving" family and be mistaken for a nightclub singer with whom the dearly departed was having an affair. Other mishaps occur including getting between Morgan and his snooty upper crust fiancee, as well as causing a near nervous breakdown for her father's assistant (Edward Everett Horton, famous for his jittery, flustered persona), sent East to watch over the zealous lass.

Lady on a Train is fun. Deanna Durbin is fun in it, although it's not a completely typical example of what a DD movie is (as a bubbly teen the star sang more songs and was usually a matchmaker or problem solver of sorts). She does get to sing three tunes in this film, including a lovely rendition of "Silent Night" (the flick is set during the Christmas season), "Give Me a Little Kiss" and Cole Porter's "Night and Day," in a sultry voice and curvaceous outfit.

Surrounding the film's star are a slew of great supporting actors. As members of the deceased man's family, Ralph Bellamy, Elizabeth Patterson and Dan Duryea (in a good guy role....or is it?) join in the mysterious antics. Patricia Morison, Allen Jenkins and William Frawley (pre-Fred Mertz) round out the stellar supporting cast. It was even nominated for an Academy Award for Best Sound.

The movie is based on a story by Leslie Charteris, who created the crime detective character Simon Templar, aka "The Saint." Another very relevant literary connection to Charteris story and this film is mystery queen Agatha Christie. Her 1957 story "4:50 from Paddington" features a very similar story angle with the main character witnessing a murder while on a train (this story would be filmed as Murder, She Said starring Margaret Rutherford in 1961).

Lady on a Train was produced by Felix Jackson, whom Durbin would marry later the same year. They divorced in 1948, and in 1950, Durbin would marry the film's director, Charles David. It was shortly after this last marriage that the star would retire and live the remainder of her life in France.

The Maltese Falcon (1941): The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

Sam Spade. An iconic figure in both American cinema as well as American literary fiction. Dashiell Hammett's famed detective cemented stardom for screen legend Humphrey Bogart and Hammett's famed story, The Maltese Falcon, offered a solid directorial debut for legendary filmmaker John Huston. Considered by some the first film noir, The Maltese Falcon was an early 1940's crime drama produced at Warner Brothers, master of this film genre, with an eclectic array of tough talking, fast moving oddball characters who come together with one common goal....possession of a priceless black falcon statue.

Moving at a lightning pace, the film is a masterpiece of mystery, crime, tough dialogue and suspense. Warners had made two less successful versions in the 1930's, one under the original title in 1931, then as Satan Met a Lady in 1936 with young Bette Davis (Davis counted this version among her worst films). The 1941 Huston version is a tight, sophisticated and complicated film, well received by critics and audiences alike and faithful to Hammett's book.

The story revolves around a small statue of a falcon, whose history dates back centuries and whose value certain parties place higher than human life. Bogart plays detective Sam Spade, who is drawn into the intrigue regarding the recovery of the sculpture by the beautiful and lethal Brigid O'Shaunessey (Mary Astor). Brigid's false tale of a missing sister gets private dick Slade on the trail of the valuable bird, only to meet others also in hot pursuit of the object, including notably iconic Hammett characters weaselly and effete Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre); youthful killer Wilmer (Elisha Cook, Jr.); and menacing "Fatman" Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet).

Like many other screenwriters cum directors of the day, Huston, as screenwriter, tired of others directing ~ and rewriting~ his work, sought and was granted by the powers that be (aka Jack Warner), the task of bringing the third version of the famed crime thriller to the screen. Bogart, for the second time in less than a year lucked out thanks to the poor judgement of star George Raft. Months earlier Raft refused the role of Roy "Mad Dog" Earle in Warner's High Sierra. Bogart's casting in the Earle role was the impetus for his starring career and when Raft refused the role of Spade in Falcon, Bogart was again given his cast-off, made it his own and became a star. The role of femme fatale Brigid O'Shaunessey was originally set to be played by Warner contract player Geraldine Fitzgerald. However, Fitzgerald went east to take a job on the stage and Mary Astor was delighted to take the juicy part of deceptive O'Shaunessey. Along with her Oscar winning role later the same year in The Great Lie, her part in The Maltese Falcon would be her most famous (on screen anyway, as she had a very colorful offscreen life).

Everyone else in the cast is simply superb. Greenstreet, over sixty and roughly 300 lbs., made an unforgettable film debut as the baleful and bloated Kasper Gutman, code name "The Fat Man". In Falcon, he skillfully perfected the portly prototype of villain that he would portray throughout his film career. Cook truly looks like he's about to lose it, as gunsel Wilmer, with crazed look in his eyes and cold blooded murder in his heart. He and fellow Falcon co-star Lee Patrick (who plays Bogart's trusted secretary Effie) appeared in a 1970's spoof of the film called The Black Bird. Actor Walter Huston, father of the film's director, made an unbilled (and unpaid) cameo, as a victim of the statues lethal value.

The Maltese Falcon has been copied, spoofed and parodied, but the style and success of the Huston film cannot be duplicated. The parts of his masterpiece fit too perfectly together. Bogart became as synonymous with Sam Spade as he would with Casablanca's Rick a year later, and the professional and personal bond forged between he and director Huston would remain strong until Bogart's death in 1957.

The Cat and the Canary (1939): Chills + Laughs = Hit!

When I was a senior in high school, I lobbied for our drama group to put on The Cat and the Canary for our annual production. We did and I was fortunate enough to win the part played by Bob Hope in the 1939 film version. It was alot of fun, though at the time, I'd never had the opportunity to see any of the film versions of this classic mystery. When I did finally see the movie, co-starring Paulette Goddard, it was just as much fun as I remembered my high school hijinks to be.

Released by Paramount in November 1939, The Cat and the Canary is one of the lesser remembered gems from that big movie year that ushered in Gone with the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Wuthering Heights and the like. It brought both its leads, Hope and Goddard, to the forefront of stardom and raked in a pretty nice profit for Paramount. Originally filmed as a silent in 1927, then again with sound as The Cat Creeps in 1930, The Cat and the Canary was based on a stage play by John Willard and was a take on the "old dark house" formula, which threw several people together in a spooky mansion of sorts with no means of escape and creepy shenanigans aplenty (Think And Then There Were None with laughs). The 1939 installment offered a winning combination of murder, mayhem and the madcap comedy of young Bob Hope, who plays Wally Campbell, one of a motley crew gathered at the eerie New Orleans estate of a dead relative for the reading of the old man's will. Paulette Goddard, stunning as usual, stars as Joyce Norman, the lucky stiff (did I say that?) who inherits the old boy's dough. The catch is if she is found to be insane, a second, separately named heir will get the loot. The codicil puts the beautiful heroine in a dangerous predicament.

Bob Hope had already been under contract to Paramount for a couple of years but hadn't found his niche. The studio wanted to take advantage of his huge popularity on radio. With the character of Wally Campbell, the bumbling, charming, comic coward, he hit the jackpot. It would be his signature film persona for the rest of his career, culminating in the "Road" pictures he made with fellow Paramount players, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour. Gorgeous Paulette Goddard had just finished filming the extremely popular The Women at MGM, after losing the role of Scarlett O'Hara to Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind and was under personal contract to producer David O. Selznick. Embroiled in his Civil War epic, Selznick sold Paulette's contract to Paramount when the studio offered the comely actress a seven year option. The Cat and the Canary was Goddard's first film under her new contract and was the turning point in her career. Paulette was married to comic icon Charlie Chaplin at the time Canary was made. Chaplin had been the childhood idol of her co-star Hope and during the same time the film was being shot, Bob saw Paulette and Chaplin at the Santa Anita racetrack. He went over to speak to Goddard and she introduced the two men. The awestruck Hope told his idol how he had enjoyed Modern Times (Chaplin's last silent film, released a few years prior), as well as working with Paulette. Chaplin in turn complimented the young comedian saying, "I've been watching the rushes of The Cat and the Canary every night. I want you to know that you are one of the best timers of comedy I have ever seen." He was right. Hope's gags and one liners set him apart. In a scene between Wally Campbell and Cicily, another potential heir, Cicily asks: "Don't big, empty houses scare you?" to which Hope's Wally answers, "Not me, I used to be in vaudeville."

The film also featured John Beal, Douglass Montgomery, Elizabeth Patterson and Gale Sondergaard, who is always a treat. The Cat and the Canary proved so popular with moviegoers that a follow up, The Ghost Breakers was rushed into production by Paramount to re-team Hope and Goddard. It met with equal success.

Charlie Chan: Oland or Toler (or maybe even Winters)?

The Popcorn Flick was a Saturday afternoon film showcase on local television when I was a child. It featured popular series from the golden age of Hollywood like Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes, Ma and Pa Kettle with Marjorie Main and Percy Kilbride, the Andy Hardy Series and others. You get the idea. Along with Shock Theater, another local T.V. cornucopia of old films (this one featuring classic Universal horror reels), the Popcorn Flick was one of my first experiences with classic movies and their stars. Once such character driven film set I was introduced to as a 7 year-old, who thoroughly enjoyed these things (what??!) was Charlie Chan. Though I first became aware of the Oriental detective, whose sleuthing skills took him to the Opera, the Circus (both 1936) and even to the Olympics (1937), very young, I didn't actually understand or enjoy these films until the ripe old age of 11 or so.

Three actors portrayed the low-key snoop during his popular run in the 1930's and 1940's, none of which were actually of Asian descent (there were a handful of obscure portrayals other than these well known ones). The first was Warner Oland, a Swedish actor, who played Chan until his death in 1938, when Sidney Toler, who was of Scottish American descent, took over the role. Finally upon Toler's death in 1947, Boston born Roland Winters finished out the final installments in the late 40's.

Although I have my personal favorite Chan actor, I ask, if you have ever seen any of these classic whodunits, who is your favorite?

The Glass Key (1942): Lake and Ladd in Hard Boiled Hammett

As one of the 1940's memorable romantic duo's, Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake were both icy cool blondes, whose passive, almost emotionless acting styles were a perfect match to the other, but their good looks and on-screen chemistry sparked red hot hits at Paramount where both were under contract throughout the decade. In 1942 the two made The Glass Key, a remake of a 1935 crime drama/mystery which starred George Raft. Based on the classic novel by famed mystery author Dashiell Hammett, the film was actually the second pairing of Ladd and Lake, whose first venture, This Gun For Hire, hadn't yet been released when production on Key began. The magnetism they showed in This Gun For Hire was duplicated in The Glass Key not purposely but by chance. Largely forgotten actress Patricia Morison was originally cast as the female lead and actually shot a few scenes when she was deemed too tall as Ladd's paramour. Ladd was a rather diminutive leading man at roughly 5' 6", so petite Lake was cast instead. The studio tried to pair the stars publicly, though they were merely friends and Ladd married actress Sue Carol the same year Key was released. Professionally however, the two fair haired actors went on to make a total of four films together at Paramount, including The Blue Dahlia (1946) and Saigon (1948).

The Glass Key is an early example of film noir, gritty crime drama peppered with romantic liaisons, murder and plenty of hard boiled dialogue. It's a complex crime thriller with moments of genuine edge of your seat excitement. As Ladd and Lake hadn't yet proved themselves the firecracker team they would eventually become, veteran Brian Donlevy was top billed. He plays shady and obnoxious crime boss Paul Madvig, whose attraction to sleek Janet Henry (Lake), causes him to back her father, Ralph Henry, as the reform candidate for governor in their state. Janet tolerates the oafish Madvig to help her ambitious father. Ladd plays Ed Beaumont, Madvigs right hand, who oversees everything pertaining to his boss, including Madvig's younger sister Opal (Bonita Granville), who is secretly seeing the would be governors shiftless playboy son Taylor (Richard Denning). When the no good Taylor is found dead outside the house he shares with his father and sister, Madvig is the number one suspect, since he went to the home to discuss Taylor's involvement with his kid sister Opal (told you it was complex). The story segues with Madvigs enemy, thug Nick Varna (Joseph Calleia) trying to pin the murder on him while Varna's beefy and sinister henchman Jeff (William Bendix) gives Ed a beating the likes the silver screen had never seen to that time, when Ed tries to find evidence to clear his boss and comrade Madvig of the crime.

Hulk of a man Bendix had just made his film debut the same year as this film. He also won an Oscar nomination in one of his very first roles in Wake Island also released in 1942. He is more than memorable as the sadistically smiling heavy (literally!) knocking the soup out of Ladd in the grueling and realistic beating scene which ends with Ladd falling several stories from a window and crashing through a skylight onto the dinner table of horrified diners. Former child actress Bonita Granville (These Three, Nancy Drew) is always good but she's not given a chance here to do much more than cry over her murdered lover, but she does it looking lovely. The screenplay is riddled with great dialogue like Bendix fellow goon bragging on his cooking skills: "My first wife was a second cook in a third rate joint on Fourth street."

Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake would become iconic figures of the 1940's. Ladd as a stone faced tough talker, Lake as the gal with the peek-a-boo hairstyle that wreaked havoc in war munition factories when girls who copied the look, got their long locks caught in factory machinery. The Glass Key proved a success for Paramount and a launchpad for the two comely personalities who charged the film with their high voltage electricity.

Review: Shadow of a Doubt

Santa Rosa, California had a population of roughly 13,000 people in 1942, a fraction of its current citizen count. But when Alfred Hitchcock began production of his classic 1943 thriller, Shadow of a Doubt, the small San Francisco Bay area community conveyed just the right atmosphere of Everytown, USA that he was looking for. As Hitchcock's camera pans across the downtown Santa Rosa street scape, we see a friendly cherub-like policeman, whistle between his lips, directing easy flowing traffic. We witness a bustling but laid back burg, while liltingly pleasant music plays in the background. In later scenes, a J.C. Penney department store and an ivy covered library are further evidence that the viewer could be in any average hamlet in the land. The famed director used this placid setting to illustrate that evil can penetrate anywhere, even the peaceful, civilized confines of small town America.

The evil found in Hitchcock's Santa Rosa shows up in the form of Joseph Cotten, playing one of the best roles of his career, "Uncle" Charlie Oakley, the deranged "Merry Widow Murderer," who on the lamb from the law, escapes to the homespun security of his sister's family in the pleasant California town. Waiting for him with open arms is his teen aged niece and namesake played by Teresa Wright who is top billed. Niece Charley relishes the visit from her charming and urbane uncle, hoping his presence will shake up her family's drab, humdrum existence. He doesn't disappoint. The detectives who have been chasing him across the country, find their suspect on the west coast. One of them (Macdonald Carey) befriends and confides in young Charley, the sins of her uncle. Devastated and confused, she comes to realize that what the detective has told her is true. When another man who is also strongly suspected to be the murderer is killed while being pursued on the east coast, the case is closed and Uncle Charlie is cleared, but his niece now knows that he is indeed the guilty party and she begins to experience a series of "accidents."

Joseph Cotten's Uncle Charlie is both charismatic and menacing. A particularly effective moment has him at the dinner table describing his vision of rich widows as "fat, lazy women" who squander all that their late husbands had worked for all their lives. As he thinks aloud his disturbing diatribe, the camera goes in for a slow, steady close up of his profiled face. By the time he is interrupted by a rebuttal from his niece, the camera is dead on his eyes and he turns his head to give a chilling stare directly into the lens.

Wright does her share of fine acting as well, with this role following on the heels of her successes in The Little Foxes (1941) and Mrs. Miniver (1942). She goes from adoring and doting teenager to troubled and anxious young woman without missing a beat. Like her characters uncle, she too can be menacing, when the occasion arises. Perfect example: When she and Uncle Charlie get the news from her detective boyfriend that the Merry Widow suspect in the east was killed while trying to escape, Cotten, ready to celebrate his freedom, strides up the staircase like a schoolboy on holiday. Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, just shy of the top of the stairs and slowly turns around to see his niece standing sullenly and accusingly in the doorway below, her shadow stretched out before her, as she gives him a cold stare of disgust.

As the senior Charlie's sister and female Charley's mother is Patricia Collinge, a stage actress who co-starred with Wright in The Little Foxes. As Emma Newton in this film, she shows the right amount of naivete and a fluttery quality as mama of her brood and even comes off as a somewhat surrogate mother to her visiting younger brother. Well into middle age, it seems odd that she and Henry Travers, as her murder mystery buff, bank clerk husband would be cast as the parents of such young children (besides Charley, their clan consists of Ann and Roger, both under 12). Hume Cronyn in his film debut, does quite a fine job as Travers cohort in crime novel critique, each devising plan after plan for the perfect fictional murder.

To help him capture the quality of small town values required for his setting, Hitchcock retained none other than playwrite Thorton Wilder to collaborate on the screenplay for Shadow of a Doubt. Wilder's play "Our Town" was the epitome of everyday life. The film was Oscar nominated for Best Writing and Best Original Story. Hitchcock claimed that Doubt was one of his personal favorites of his films, though he told Francois Truffaut in a famous interview, that it was not his very favorite. Regardless, it is a genuine Hitchcock gem that is often overlooked when traditional Hitchcock is discussed and revered, a true treasure that should be remembered and viewed often.

Review: The Uninvited

One of the finest examples of a ghost story in Hollywood during it's Golden Age is the stylish and haunting The Uninvited from Paramount in 1944. More spooky than scary, more mystery than horror, The Uninvited has an actual supernatural element not seen in most films of it's day. There's no "ah, that explains how that happened" twist at the ending but instead, an open honest look into the paranormal with no excuses.

The story, based on Dorothy Macardle's novel, is of London siblings (Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey), both unmarried, who buy a grand old home, Winward House, on the Cornish coast of England. The current owner, stiffly upper crust Donald Crisp, lets the place go for a song. Hmmm....Come to find out, things were not always so grand and elegant at Winward House and to the new owners chagrin, they find that it is haunted. The film does offer a few unrealistic glitches, like Milland going sailing on a whim in his tweeds, tie and best fedora or the fact that the siblings, out of the blue, decide to plunk their life savings into a decades old house the same day they discover it. But no matter, these missteps can be overlooked in lieu of the finer elements displayed throughout the film.

The Uninvited is somewhat reminiscent of Hitchcock's Rebecca (1940), not in storyline as much as in atmosphere and character. Like Rebecca, the setting is a large stately house on the coast of England. The house is filled with the memory of it's former mistress, Mary Meredith (heck, it's filled with her very spirit, as she's the one haunting it), and there's even a creepy, dark haired mystery woman, who is unyieldingly devoted to the memory of the dead woman, such as Mrs. Danvers was in Rebecca. More than one film analyst has noted the obvious lesbian theme related to this character, Miss Holloway. It is a role that Gale Sondergaard would have excelled in.

The movie is chilling without the use of modern special effects, though the one camera trick that is used, the spectre of Mary Meredith, is very effective. The atmosphere is instead achieved through expert black and white cinematography by Charles Lang, whose masterful use of light and shadow earned him an Oscar nomination. Also a top asset for the film was it's haunting, romantic score by Paramount's resident composer, Victor Young, which includes the lovely tune Stella by Starlight.

Besides Milland, at his devil may care best, and Hussey (too attractive and refined not to be married), the cast includes the afore mentioned Donald Crisp, stage actress Cornelia Otis Skinner, as the eerie Miss Holloway and beautiful, young Gail Russell, who is "introduced" in her role as the daughter of the dead Mary Meredith (in reality she had appeared in the low budget Henry Aldrich Gets Glamour the previous year). An interesting side note, the same year The Uninvited was released, Gail Russell played her co-star, Cornelia Otis Skinner, in Paramount's Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, which recounted Skinner's early years abroad.

Basil Rathbone: Villain or Sleuth?

Arguably one of the ultimate movie villain actors of the Golden Age is the incomparable Basil Rathbone. But most film aficionados know him best as the master of mystery, Sherlock Holmes, in a series of films beginning at Twentieth Century-Fox in the late Thirties, then moving to Universal throughout the duration of the war.

Black-hearted, icily suave and sadistically ruthless, Rathbone's pre-Holmes characterizations were anything but forgettable. (Rumor has it that author Margaret Mitchell wanted him to play Rhett Butler in the filmization of her novel Gone With The Wind!) A Shakespearean actor in England, he came to the United States in the mid 1920's to perform on the New York stage, but it was his reputation as a sophisticated villain in Hollywood films that made him famous. Although wonderfully sinister in several classics of the mid and late Thirties, including Anna Karenina (1935) and Tower of London (1939), three of his best roles were in Captain Blood (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and The Mark of Zorro (1940).

An accomplished swordsman in real life, he fought impressive duels in each of these films with the lead actor (Errol Flynn in the first two and Tyrone Power in the latter) only to lose dramatically in the end. In Captain Blood, Rathbone plays a French pirate who first allies with then defies Flynn. In The Mark of Zorro, the distinctively profiled actor portrays the cool and cruel Captain Pasquale, who acts as nemesis to Tyrone Power's masked avenger. But it's as filmdom's greatest scoundrels, Sir Guy of Gisbourne in Warner Brothers Technicolor masterpiece, The Adventures of Robin Hood, that ingrains in the memory, Basil Rathbone's vision of menacing rogue.

Then in 1939, Rathbone was cast as the definitive detective, Sherlock Holmes, in Twentieth Century-Fox's version of Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles. With Nigil Bruce by his side as Dr. Watson, the iconic duo found themselves in the middle of an unforeseen hit. Rathbone's popularity as Holmes was such a surprise he wasn't even top billed but second to Fox contract player Richard Greene. The studio quickly developed The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes to cash in on the success of Baskervilles. Both films were set in Victorian England as reflected in the Conan Doyle stories, but when the burgeoning franchise was acquired by Universal in 1942, the setting was changed to the present and many of the story lines revolved around World War II based intrigue. All told, Rathbone and Nigil Bruce would make 14 Holmes films. Quite an offering for what started out as a quaint little period picture.

So, which do you prefer? Rathbone the Rogue or Sherlock Holmes.