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Dark Hazard (1934)
Effective pre-Code fare
Warning--this review contains SPOILERS!
It is hard to explain exactly why this handy little melodrama is obviously "pre-Code" in nature without giving away the ending, so if you'd rather not know, stop now.
Typically when we refer to films as "pre-Code" (1930-34), we usually mean they contain some "risqué" elements that were to be absent from American films until well after WWII. In this case, however, it's really the "moral of the story"--or lack thereof--that so defines it. Edward G. Robinson, captivating as always, plays an inveterate gambler who falls hard for a "good woman" and makes her his wife--and swears off the gambling she detests. He is only spottily successful in avoiding the lure of wagering, however--especially after he gets a job supervising a dog track in California! (As an aside, the initial dog racing sequence is very well done and quite dynamic, especially for the time).
In the end, after ups and downs, the gambler chooses a life of wagering (and a floozy female companion) over a respectable family life. At the end of the film, we see him rolling in dough, contented at the racetrack, and VERY contented with his "easy" female friend. A couple of years later this film would have had to end with him on skid row, or murdered, or the like, to drive home the "moral" that gambling--and deviating from "respectability" generally--would lead to an inevitable sad and/or short life. But here, in the pre-Code era, in the end the gambler appears happy as a lark with his life of gambling and "fun" female companionship (as opposed to his dour wife).
Beside Robinson, the cast is generally fine, with the now largely forgotten Genevieve Tobin looking a little like a bargain basement Norma Shearer as Robinson's wife, and the excellent Glenda Farrell as hotsy-totsy girlfriend.
Dark Hazard (1934)
Effective pre-Code fare
Warning--this review contains SPOILERS!
It is hard to explain exactly why this handy little melodrama is obviously "pre-Code" in nature without giving away the ending, so if you'd rather not know, stop now.
Typically when we refer to films as "pre-Code" (1930-34), we usually mean they contain some "risqué" elements that were to be absent from American films until well after WWII. In this case, however, it's really the "moral of the story"--or lack thereof--that so defines it. Edward G. Robinson, captivating as always, plays an inveterate gambler who falls hard for a "good woman" and makes her his wife--and swears off the gambling she detests. He is only spottily successful in avoiding the lure of wagering, however--especially after he gets a job supervising a dog track in California! (As an aside, the initial dog racing sequence is very well done and quite dynamic, especially for the time).
In the end, after ups and downs, the gambler chooses a life of wagering (and a floozy female companion) over a respectable family life. At the end of the film, we see him rolling in dough, contented at the racetrack, and VERY contented with his "easy" female friend. A couple of years later this film would have had to end with him on skid row, or murdered, or the like, to drive home the "moral" that gambling--and deviating from "respectability" generally--would lead to an inevitable sad and/or short life. But here, in the pre-Code era, in the end the gambler appears happy as a lark with his life of gambling and "fun" female companionship (as opposed to his dour wife).
Beside Robinson, the cast is generally fine, with the now largely forgotten Genevieve Tobin looking a little like a bargain basement Norma Shearer as Robinson's wife, and the excellent Glenda Farrell as hotsy-totsy girlfriend.
The Devil's Cabaret (1930)
Unholy smoke!! Mindbending pre-Code musical short
Another gem found by TCM, this pre-Code (1931) short has to be seen to be believed. "Hades" (the word "hell" is not used until the punchline) is need of new recruits, or so says "Mr. Satan" to his VP, Howie Burns (cute name!) The first clue that we are in the pre-Code era is the skimpy outfit worn by Mary Carlisle as Satan's secretary--hot hot hot. Burns and Satan have a brief exchange loaded with topical references of the day: when the secretary announces a call from Chicago, machine gun fire is heard in the background, and there is some banter about Scarface as well. Also, Satan reacts with disgust when the possibility of a stockbroker coming their way is raised by Burns (remember, this is not long after the stock market crash).
Eventually Burns heads to Earth (and a speakeasy) for more recruits. Those induced to go to Hades to keep the good times rolling arrive via slide, where they are treated to most jaw-dropping scene of all: a fairly lavish (for a short) music and dance number, where the dancers rip off their modest, fit-for-a-Quaker outfits to reveal their "satanic" (and scanty) outfits (complete with little horns), and surround a giant, illuminated devil's head that rises out of the center stage. Along with the "Marijuana" musical number in Murder at the Vanities, this is one of the pre-Code musical bits most likely to surprise modern audiences; I'm sure some religious types would take offense even now. One can only imagine what they thought back in 1931 (I guess the movement to enforce the Production Code, which achieved success in 1934, might offer a clue!)
This film is also a very good example of the two-strip technicolor technique used sporadically before the full, three-strip process was introduced in Becky Sharp (1935). The two-strip process doesn't really render hues of blue, but that flaw is not overwhelming in a short largely set in the reddish confines of "Hades".
You may need the luck of the Devil to catch this treat on TCM, so keep watching!
Resisting Enemy Interrogation (1944)
Well-done drama masquerading as "training film"
Thanks to TCM for giving us an opportunity to see this gem. Made by the Army Air Force's famous First Movie Unit well into the war (1944), this is one of their most polished efforts. It has a simple, but effective narrative: a US air crew of 5 is downed by the Nazis, who use every trick in the book (short of torture) to pump information out of them: ingratiation, intimidation, deceit and psychological welfare. None of the downed fliers means to co-operate with the enemy, but each in his own way contributes some information to their clever Nazis captors, which is then pieced together by the Nazi commanding officer, somewhat flamboyantly portrayed by Carl Esmond. The consequences are disaster.
The point of the film as a training device (forcefully driven home by Lloyd Nolan in the closing sequence) was that ANY information, no matter how innocent or trivial seeming on its face, could complete the jigsaw puzzle for Nazi intelligence services. All that should EVER be revealed to ANYONE outside your own crew once you were captured was name, rank and serial number. A simple lesson, you would suppose, but for 70 minutes (rather lengthy by the genre's standards, I think) the point is expertly honed by a fairly effective little drama.
In addition to Nolan, the other "big name" actor here is a young Arthur Kennedy, who appeared in many excellent films over the following quarter century.
Strictly G.I. (1943)
A great wartime short for the troops!
You can find this gem on Turner Classic Movies. Released when more than 2 more years of WWII lie ahead, this is great time capsule from those dark days. Bob Hope is not one of all-time favorites, but he's in top form here, as the radio emcee for 3 of Hollywood's hottest starlets of the time: Betty Hutton, Lana Turner & Judy Garland. Betty is up first, and is unbelievably dynamic in belting out a rousing "Murder, He Said"--this is absolutely top-notch, a show stealer. Next up is Lana, with some brief comic banter with Bob. Finally, it's Judy with a very nice version of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" (did she ever do any other kind in those days?) It will be a matter of blind luck if you catch this little gem on TCM, but I trust that, like me, you will be glad that you did.