Dark Passage: The Softer Side of Bogart and Bacall

Husband-and-wife stars Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall teamed up again for the 1947 film noir Dark Passage (DP, not to be confused with our favorite noir magazine, The Dark Pages).  I could have sworn that Philadelphia-born author David Goodis had originally titled this novel The Dark Road after Warner Bros. snapped up the movie rights for Bogie and Baby, giving it the more suspenseful title Dark Passage; does anyone here know for sure?  On a recent TCM Friday Night Spotlight on noir authors, film historian Eddie Muller explained that many of these suspense writers had to suffer the slings and arrows of seeing their books “chopped up and channeled as B-movies before they ever got A-list recognition, but Goodis did it backwards with DP, his first crime novel.  It was serialized in The Saturday Evening Post, and then Warner Bros. snapped it up for Bogart and Bacall for the silver screen."  Nice work if you can get it!  Goodis was touted as the new Dashiell Hammett, writing pulps and radio serials in the 1940s.

Author David Goodis hard at work

Travel tip: If you're going to San Francisco,
be sure to hide inside a huge prison drum!

Goodis was apparently one of those maverick types who had his own ideas about what he wanted to write and how to go about it—imagine that, writers with minds of their own!  Back in the day, filmmakers didn’t always know what to make of quirky types like Goodis, but he was nevertheless prolific with novels such as The Blonde on the Street Corner and Street of No Return (both from 1954); The Moon in the Gutter and The Burglar (both from 1953), and Cassidy’s Girl (1951).  Goodis eventually returned to Philly to take care of his ailing brother, spending the 1950s writing paperback originals with moody, broody plots focusing on troubled protagonists who couldn’t win for losing.  Somehow, I get the feeling Goodis wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who faced each day with a smile on his face and a jaunty tune on his lips—but whether or not that was true, Goodis sure could write.  In fact, nowadays, a first edition of the 1946 hardcover of Dark Passage is now valued at more than $800! 

4th floor, framed fugitives from justice, everybody off!

The DVD’s absorbing documentary featurette suggests that Bogart and Bacall’s participation in the star-studded Committee for the First Amendment, which was intended to defend colleagues called before HUAC, might have been among the reasons that DP wasn’t as big a hit as the real/reel-life couple’s earlier screen collaborations.  However, I suspect that audiences past and present may have found DP harder to cozy up to because instead of the cool, wisecracking, insolent-yet-playful Bogart and Bacall of To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep, this film version of Goodis’ novel presents a more melancholy, vulnerable Bogart and Bacall—which, in my opinion, is not at all a bad thing, just unexpected from this star team at that time!  That Bogart & Bacall chemistry is still there, but it’s sweeter, as if they’d decided to let their collective guard down and allow tenderness to take over.  Instead of the cocksure Bogart character we all know and love, DP protagonist Vincent Parry is wary, fearful, fumbling in his attempts to clear himself of his wife’s murder, escaping the cops like he escapes from prison in the film’s opening scenes.  Vincent has few allies, but the ones he has are at least willing to help.   There’s Irene Jansen (Bacall), whose father had died in prison after being framed for murder.  Irene has been following Vincent’s case during his trial, and she ends up in a position to help hide him while he does his best to prove his innocence.

You realize this means an angry letter to the Times!

Then there’s Sam, the cab driver (Tom D’Andrea from Pride of the Marines; Night and Day; Humoresque).  Sam is cynical, yet he’s basically a kind, lonely soul, as are many characters in DP.   Sam suggests that Vincent should go to back-alley plastic surgeon Dr. Walter Coley (Houseley Stevenson from Sorrowful Jones; Crime Doctor; Native Land).  Dr. Coley may have been kicked out of his practice for being ahead of his time, but like others in DP, he too got a bum rap and is also a decent guy.  The proof is in the pudding: Vincent’s operation went so well that he now looks like Humphrey Bogart!  Isn’t 1940s medicine wonderful?  Wasn’t Vincent lucky to get comrades like Irene and Sam and Dr. Coley?  If only they didn’t have to keep their secrets so close to the vest, they could put together a support group; how about Wrongly Accused Protagonists Anonymous?

Meet Dr. Coley, brilliant hush-hush plastic surgeon to the wrongfully accused!  Highly recommended by Sam the Lonesome Cab Driver!  Free cigarettes for new customers!

Trippiest face-lift ever! Lauren Bacall can blow our minds anytime!

1947 seemed to be The Year of the Subjective Camera, between DP’s first hour shot from Bogart’s viewpoint, and Robert Montgomery doing the same in Lady in the Lake, using the technique throughout the film.  Unlike Lady…, DP’s  plastic surgery gimmick provides a good plot reason for the audience not to initially see Bogart’s face, though we frequently hear that unmistakable Bogart voice to make up for it.  It may take a while before they actually get Bogart out of his bandages as Vincent Parry, but on the positive side, we also get to see more of the lovely Lauren Bacall as Irene, as well as all those great spellbinding Warner Bros. character actors in lieu of Bogie.  The tenderness between Irene and Vincent is palpable.  There isn’t an uninteresting face or a bad performance in the bunch, with standout performances from Bogart and Bacall and a superb array of character actors.  In addition to D’Andrea and Stevenson, there’s Rory Mallinson (Cry Wolf; Nora Prentiss; Possessed) as Parry’s musician friend; and the ever-dependable Bruce Bennett (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre; Mildred Pierce; Mystery Street).

A kiss isn't just any old kiss with
Bogart and Bacall as Irene and Vincent!

The man I love to hate most in DP is cheap hood Clifton Young, a former Our Gang star (oh, the irony!).  As the villainous Baker, the adult Young grew up to have an oily grin and a cleft chin that looks like it got lost on the way to Cary Grant’s face by mistake; you might also see Young on TCM, where he was a hoot in the hilarious “So You Want To…” shorts.

Vincent gets the drop on would-be blackmailer Clifton Young!
To think he was such a cute little tyke in Our Gang!

Director Delmer Daves has a cameo as
Irene's late wrongly-accused dad!

The Hates of Rapf—Madge Rapf, Dangerous Dame!

And the woman I love to hate in DP?  None other than the wonderful Agnes Moorehead, with a resume ranging from The Mercury Theatre with Orson Welles, to stage and screen, including four Oscar nominations (Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte; Johnny Belinda; Mrs. Parkington; The Magnificent Ambersons); and scene-stealer Endora on TV’s Bewitched!  Moorehead steals the film as Madge Rapf, the kind of woman who won’t join any club that would have her as a member.  Madge is some piece of work: she’s a stylish dame who goes out of her way to spread stress and misery wherever she goes.  Sticking her nose into everyone’s business, Madge manages to lure people to her and push them away at the same time, and if she can’t have you, she’ll make damn sure nobody else can have you, even if that means murder!  With her delivery dripping honey one minute and venom the next (especially in her climactic scene with Bogart), the commanding presence of the quicksilver Moorehead and her unconventional yet undeniably striking good looks ensure that you can’t take your eyes off her whenever she’s onscreen.

If you’re looking for a tight mystery plot, this ain’t the place!  While DP has many suspenseful moments, it’s primarily a character study and a mood piece about loneliness, redemption, and starting over, with a strong undercurrent of postwar paranoia, all underscored beautifully by Franz Waxman’s stirring music (with contributions by an uncredited Max Steiner.  I love the use of “Too Marvelous for Words” as Vincent and Irene’s song).  The bus station scene is a touching example of this.  Incidentally, that lady at the bus depot, Aunt Mary, is Mary Field from Ball of Fire (as Miss Totten); The Dark Corner (as the eavesdropping movie ticket-taker); Wonder Man (as the stenographer); and Ministry of Fear (as avant-garde artist Martha Penteel)!  Mary’s so versatile, bless her!

Vincent's pal George Fellsinger, young man with a horn!

But the reactions of people who meet protagonist Vincent with with his post-op face and new name, “Allan Linnell,” are so suspicious I wondered if writer/director Delmer Daves (who cameos as the photo of Irene’s doomed dad.  His real-life kids have bit parts, too) was indicating that Parry was really projecting his own paranoia onto the people around him.  His new name in particular makes people look at him like he just dropped in from the planet Neptune:  “Linnell?  That’s a very unusual name.”  What’s so freakin’ unusual about it?!  What, it’s not blandly Anglo-Saxon enough?  I wonder if singer/songwriter John Linnell from They Might Be Giants (one of Team B’s favorite bands) ever had to field such absurd questions?   But I digress… 

Madge shows her true colors!

Even when DP drops the subjective camera style so we can see Bogart in all his glory, the visuals are striking thanks to Sid Hickox’s moody black-and-white photography.  That said, I recently saw a colorized still of Moorehead as Madge, and I must admit it looked pretty darn impressive!  With the emphasis on Madge’s love of all things orange, I can imagine a partly-colorized version a la Sin City, with everything black-and-white except Madge’s orange clothes and belongings! The Lodger, perhaps?  Speaking of Hitchcock, DP and Hitch’s 1958 classic Vertigo might make an interesting double feature since they share themes of loss, loneliness, new identities and fresh starts as well as a San Francisco setting.  (That could also work for another San Francisco film I like, Impact, but that’s a blog post for another time!) If you want to see a softer side of Bogart and Bacall, DP is well worth watching.  You may also enjoy the DVD’s fun and interesting extras, like the original theatrical trailer (for me, the hyperbole of movie trailers of that era is part of their charm) and “Slick Hare,” one of the Bugs Bunny cartoons that affectionately lampoon Bogart; it’s been claimed that Bogart liked to pal around with the animators at Warner Bros.’ “Termite Terrace” and he actually did his own voice work for Slick Hare and 8-Ball Bunny! 
Nevertheless, Director of Photography Sid Hickox had plenty of  innovative visual techniques in glorious black-and-white.  I particularly liked the use of the glass floor when Vincent discovers a dead body (I won’t say who); a tip of the hat to Alfred Hitchcock’s

Baby, you're smokin'!

Oh, no!  George, Vincent's only friend, has clearly played his last song!

After all the agita Irene and Vincent have been through, they deserve a happy ending!
Good luck, you crazy kids!

According to Wikipedia, the TV series The Fugitive became a hit in 1963—and Goodis took the producers to court, considering the show had many elements in common with Dark Passage.  In 1963, ABC television began airing the television show The Fugitive, the story of Richard Kimble, a doctor wrongfully convicted of murdering his wife. Kimble subsequently escapes and begins a long search for the "one-armed man", the person he believes to be the real killer.  For that matter, the whole case was originally inspired by real-life Dr. Sam Sheppard, who’d been accused of murdering his pregnant wife.  It just goes to show that there’s nothing new under the sun, in fiction or real life!

To Have and Have Not: When Bogie Met Baby

It’s funny to think the movie version of To Have and Have Not (TH&HN) came about as a wager between producer/director Howard Hawks and author Ernest Hemingway!   According to TCM’s John Miller, Hawks was trying to persuade his Nobel Prize-winning author pal Hemingway to try screenwriting.  Hemingway balked, saying most of his writing was unfilmable.  Hawks wouldn’t give up that easily, boasting that he could make a good film out of what he considered Hemingway’s worst novel: “That bunch of junk To Have and Have Not.”  From what I’ve heard about “Papa” Hemingway, I would’ve expected those fellas to duke it out at that point, but Hemingway was up to the challenge.  Jules Furthman banged out a screenplay, turning “that bunch of junk” into an exciting, sexy, totally irresistible adventure with what turned out to be one of the best romantic teams in movie history, onscreen and off-screen! 

We’ve said this here at TotED before, but we’ll gladly say it again: For our money, there seemed to be no genre that Hawks couldn’t tackle with the greatest of ease, and there’s never been a more perfect romantic team than Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, the latter becoming Mrs. Bogart in 1945, and staying happy together until Bogart’s death in 1957.  (Damn cancer!)   Admittedly, the kind of perfection I’m talking about has nothing to do with such trifles as linear, crystal-clear plotting.  (Clarity? We don’t need no stinkin’ clarity!)  The elements that made Hawks’ best films so entertaining and unforgettable included charismatic actors in memorable roles, whether they were big stars or character actors; zesty direction; rapid-fire delivery, which inspired the late Robert Altman’s directorial style; and those sleek, smart, bewitching Hawks women, almost all of whom try to seduce the hero to one degree or another.  I know I’ve said this elsewhere, too, and I still mean it: I want to be a Howard Hawks kind of woman when I grow up!

Screenwriter Jules Furthman (from the 1935 version of Mutiny on the Bounty; Nightmare Alley; Rio Bravo) and novelist/screenwriter William Faulkner (The Big Sleep; The Long Hot Summer; Intruder in the Dust) were no slouches in the excitement department when it came to crafting entertaining movies!  Our story starts in: “Martinique in the summer of 1940, shortly after the fall of France.”  Meet Harry Morgan (not to be confused with the co-star of the TV version of M*A*S*H), a rugged fisherman for hire (the ever-awesome Humphrey Bogart of The Big Sleep; Across the Pacific; All Through the Night).  World War 2 is on, and Martinique is Vichy-controlled, so it’s not exactly the most carefree place in the world.  War is Hell indeed!  Harry and his first mate, Horatio (Sir Lancelot), charter fishing boats for tourists.  Harry’s current client, Mr. Johnson (Walter Sande of Don Winslow of the Navy; The Blue Dahlia; Detective Mathews in the Boston Blackie movies), is a handful. 

Johnson is an inept fisherman who blames others for his careless and expensive mistakes, as well as being a cheapskate and a whiner.  Right now, he’s complaining about Harry’s longtime friend Eddie (three-time Oscar-winner Walter Brennan from Come and Get It; Kentucky; The Westerner; and the hit 1957 TV series The Real McCoys).  Apparently Eddie’s cheerful blathering is getting on Johnson’s nerves—aw, poor baby, our hearts bleed for you!  Hey, if Harry and Horatio can shrug off Johnson’s whiny personality—not to mention losing the rod and reel due to his ineptitude—he should be able to put up with Eddie’s gabbiness and occasional mistakes (which our hero matter-of-factly sets right).  Eddie can’t help it, though, with his alcoholism:

Johnson:  “I don't see why you want that rummy around.”
Harry:  “Eddie was a good man on a boat before he got to be a rummy.”
Johnson:  “Well, he's no good now... What do you look after him for?"
Harry:  “He thinks he’s lookin’ after me.”

So since then, Harry has taken Eddie under his wing, looking after Eddie as if he was an addled but endearing old dad.  Harry’s kindness to Eddie endeared me to him right away.  Note that even with Eddie’s issues, he’s still more capable on the boat than bumbling "Blame Game" Johnson, who comes mighty close to getting tossed overboard when Johnson tries to get tough with Eddie (“Are you a good swimmer, Mr. Johnson?”)! TH&HN has terrific atmosphere, thanks to Charles Novi’s Art Direction, Casey Roberts’ Set Decoration, and Sid Hickcox’ cinematography.

I like the AMC Website’s response to Eddie's recurring Dada-esque question: 
“Was you ever bit by a dead bee...a honey bee?”  It’s a perfect Rorschach-style personality character test for every character that crosses Eddie’s path.  Harry, of course, understands Eddie, so they’ve long since passed the “Dead Bee” test with flying colors.  If Eddie’s question triggers confusion, impatience, and/or anger from others, we know these people are, if not full-tilt villains, then at the very least, they’re not Harry’s kind of people (or ours)! “Frenchy” Gerard (Marcel Dalio from Grand Illusion; Sabrina; Gentlemen Prefer Blondes), a member of the French Resistance, offers Harry big bucks to smuggle a good-guy member of the French Resistance out of the country.  Being no fool, Harry sticks his head out for no one.  But then along comes a woman who’s just checked in at Frenchy’s hotel:  the sulky and sultry Marie Browning, played by native New Yorker and model-turned-actress Lauren Bacall in a film debut that puts the “WOW!” in the “Wow Factor”! 

Although Marie seems cool, calm, and insolent, she’s actually living by her wits, starting with cozying up to the unsuspecting  Johnson in the café and picking the big boob’s pocket.  Granted, Johnson is getting a little too hands-on with Marie, but Harry isn’t letting her get away with it:  “You ought to pick on someone to steal from who doesn’t owe me money.”  Lucky for Harry, our gal Marie gains Harry’s trust when Johnson gets tripped up by his own lies about being penniless until the next day, when in fact Johnson was all set to hop a plane at dawn!   But no sooner does Johnson begin to sheepishly sign his Traveler's Cheques than gunfire rings out in the café, leaving the joint in a mess and Johnson dead in the crossfire.  As Harry says, “He couldn’t write any faster than he could duck.  Another minute and his cheques would have been good.”  Thanks to that vile Vichy gunfire, both Harry and Marie are in the soup, and we don’t just mean vichyssoise!   Now the slimy Vichy Captain Reynard (Dan Seymour from Key Largo; Johnny Belinda; The Way We Were) and Lt. Coyo (Sheldon Leonard, who went from supporting roles like Another Thin  Man in the movies to becoming a wildly successful TV producer) have Harry and Marie over a barrel. 

 

Actual dialogue from the film: 
“He couldn’t write any faster than he could duck. 
Another minute and his chequewould have been good.”

Harry can tell that Marie’s life hasn’t been a bed of roses, unless you count the thorns; during Reynard’s grilling, Marie takes a slap in the face without batting an eye.  She admits she’s trying to get home to the States: “I’d walk, if it wasn’t for all that water.”  In the great Hawks tradition, Harry and Marie get closer, including cool pet names: “Steve” for Harry, and “Slim” for Marie—which were actually Mrs. and  Mrs. Howard Hawks’ pet names for each other in real life!  The mating dance between “Steve” and “Slim” is tantalizing, yet still yields Harry’s better instincts as he agrees to help Marie get back home in exchange for smuggling Frenchy’s refugee friends. Well, they say that adversity brings people together in hard times, so our heroes have no choice but to help Frenchy and his Resistance allies, and help Marie in the bargain.

Cricket and Slim make beautiful music together at the café!

French Resistance Fighter Paul deBursac (Walter Szurovy, a.k.a. Walter Molnar) boards Harry’s boat, with a new last-minute passenger:  his wife, Hellene (Dolores Moran from The Ghost Breakers; Old Acquaintance; The Horn Blows at Midnight).  Staying calm and paying attention doesn’t seem to be the deBursacs’ strong suit:  despite Harry’s warnings to just get flat on the deck and stay there, that peacenik Paul shouts out, “Don’t shoot!”  All he gets for his trouble is a bullet in the shoulder, though Harry gets them to land and safety.  When they get back, Harry discovers our gal “Slim” has found a sweet gig as a chanteuse at the café, just goes to show you can’t keep a great gal down!  And not a moment too soon; turns out Frenchy snuck the injured Paul in the cellar so jack-of-all-trades Harry could operate on our little Freedom Fighter in peace—especially when well-meaning but overprotective Mme. deBursac accidentally knocks herself out with the chloroform she was supposed to use to operate on Paul.  Well, at least now we can get Paul healed in peace and quiet!  Boy, Harry can’t seem to get a moment to himself!  He’s tangling with bad guys, beautiful women, French resistance fighters, lovable (albeit needy) alcoholic sidekicks—sheesh, the man can’t seem to get a moment to himself!  He needs a “Do Not Disturb” sign!

Two’s company and a gaggle of Resistance Fighters
is a crowd when "Slim" and "Steve" are interrupted's
 by Frenchy and his Resistance pals!

It’s been said that Hawks got his nose out of joint for a time because Hawks wanted Bacall all to himself, to no avail.  *Tsk tsk!* No point being greedy, Hawks, especially since he already had a charming and lovely wife at home!  But beautiful Dolores Moran could surely have been a fine runner-up as Mme. deBursac, even if her character  was often more of a hindrance than a help in her well-meaning but overbearing way.  In real life, Dolores Moran had a reputation for going around with well-known married Hollywood heavyweights, as well as supporting parts in The Ghost Breakers; Old Acquaintance; and The Horn Blows at Midnight.

Will the lovely and well-meaning but maddeningly

overprotective Hellene deBursac turn out to be Hell on wheels? 

“Harry, you was ‘fraid I’d get hurt.  You was thinkin’ of me!” 

"That’s right, Eddie, this is all about you.  Now let me steer before we crash into a luxury liner or Nazis, will ya?!"

 

 Mme. de Bursac goofs and ends up knocking herself out with Harry’s chloroform. 
Thank goodness, we thought that dame would never shut up! 

Here’s the complimentary breakfast we give Freedom Fighters in our charming café. 
Now scram, toots, and let “Steve” and me catch up on our nookie! 

Bacall wasn’t the only one making a film debut in TH&HN; so was Oscar-winning singer/songwriter Hoagy Carmichael (for Here Comes the Groom; Starlight; Gentlemen Prefer Blondes),  playing piano man Cricket at the café.  In fact, the catchy background music at the café makes me wonder if anyone considered making this a Broadway musical.  I’d see it if I had the dough!

Whether Bogart and Bacall are being playful or serious onscreen (or offscreen, for that matter), the sparks between them are hotter than July 4th fireworks—and nobody even had to get naked, at least onscreen!

To Have and Have Not: When Bogie Met Baby

It’s funny to think the movie version of To Have and Have Not (TH&HN) came about as a wager between producer/director Howard Hawks and author Ernest Hemingway!   According to TCM’s John Miller, Hawks was trying to persuade his Nobel Prize-winning author pal Hemingway to try screenwriting.  Hemingway balked, saying most of his writing was unfilmable.  Hawks wouldn’t give up that easily, boasting that he could make a good film out of what he considered Hemingway’s worst novel: “That bunch of junk To Have and Have Not.”  From what I’ve heard about “Papa” Hemingway, I would’ve expected those fellas to duke it out at that point, but Hemingway was up to the challenge.  Jules Furthman banged out a screenplay, turning “that bunch of junk” into an exciting, sexy, totally irresistible adventure with what turned out to be one of the best romantic teams in movie history, onscreen and off-screen! 

Across the Pacific: Pan-ama-demonium!

This post is part of the CMBA’s Fabulous Films of the 1940s Blogathon, running from February 17th through February 22nd, 2013. Enjoy!

After The Maltese Falcon became a hit in 1941, Warner Bros. wasted no time in following up with Across the Pacific (AtP) in 1942, reuniting its powerhouse stars Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Sydney Greenstreet, composer Adolph Deutsch,  and of course, director John Huston, this time working from a script by Richard Macaulay (They Drive By Night; The Roaring Twenties; Born to Kill), based on the serial Aloha Means Goodbye.  (Macauley was later known for testifying as a “friendly witness” before HUAC during the McCarthy era, but that’s a story for another time.)

AtP has plenty of suspense, romance, and flag-waving, what with the U.S. poised to enter World War 2 any minute.  The result was an entertaining adventure with that cheeky Huston feel, at once suspenseful and playful, while never forgetting that war is on the horizon and you can never be sure who to trust.  Only Peter Lorre was missing among the AtP cast—but he turned up just long enough to horse around, according to TCM’s Bret Wood: “Without informing his cast, Huston had Lorre enter the background as a waiter, clumsily disrupting the scene until announcing his presence with a wet kiss on the back of Astor’s neck.”  Oh, those impish Warner scamps!

Love, exciting and new! Come aboard, we're expecting you!

Would you believe I first saw AtP in colorized form?  Yes, that was back in the bad old days when Ted Turner thought people would turn up their pert little noses at black-and-white movies.  Instead, the colors looked muddy and just plain awful. Lovely Mary Astor’s lips looked gray—blecch!  Give me glorious black-and-white anytime!

Even Canada, our friendly neighbor to the North,
won't let Rick fight!

Our story is set in 1941, where our hero Rick Leland (Bogart) is in the very un-heroic position of being dishonorably discharged from the U.S. Army, with woman trouble indicated.  So our antihero Rick comes aboard the Genoa Maru, a ship heading toward Panama; after all, there’s always something a freelance adventurer can do to earn a few bucks!  Rick meets Dr. Lorenz (Greenstreet), an American who seems to be a lot more sympathetic to the Japanese than most of us Yanks would’ve been during that era, being on the brink of war and all.  Another passenger, Joe Totsuiko (Victor Sen Yung, a.k.a. Sen Yung of The Letter; Number Two Son Jimmy Chan in the Charlie Chan movies; and Hop Sing on TV’s Bonanza, among others), is a sharp young Japanese-American who grew up in the U.S., and has almost the same hepcat lingo as Kookie from TV’s 77 Sunset Strip (*snap snap*).  But don’t underestimate his boyish charm and thick glasses; Joe’s jujitsu moves will knock you on your butt!

Romance on the high seas for Rick and Alberta...

War or no war, there’s always time for romance, by George!  Rick romances passenger Alberta Marlow (Astor, for whom I’ve always had a soft spot, as she reminds me of my late Auntie Joy), who’s pretty gosh-darn glamorous for an unassuming little lady supposedly from a town called Medicine Hat.  (By the way, there really is a town called Medicine Hat in Alberta, Canada!)  But hey, aren’t cruises supposed to be exciting and romantic?  While I don’t always agree with venerable New York Times film reviewer Bosley Crowther, I do agree with his comment about our leading lady: “Miss Astor is so beautiful a creature that you naturally know you must reserve your trust.”

...til mal-de-mere strikes! Can Alberta get a refund?

TCM’s Bret Wood goes on to say: “Once war was declared, it was difficult for the crew to hold onto their Japanese-American actors, who were suddenly considered a threat to security.  According to Astor, ‘a little indignation and some wire-pulling held them at least until the picture was finished.’ The Japanese actors were forced to endure a fair amount of racial stereotyping in the wartime film. Most speak pidgin English, while Victor Sen Yung was required to wear grotesque magnifying spectacles. In spite of this thinly disguised racism, Across the Pacific is in many ways respectful of Asian culture and in several instances attempts a serious understanding of the Japanese character and the philosophy of Judo.”

A pleasure cruise on the fab Genoa Maru!
Hope they got entertainment & all-you-can-eat buffets!

Our travelers sure do get their share of adventure and intrigue, eventually foiling a dastardly Japanese plot against the Panama Canal (keep in mind this was wartime in the 1940s, well before WW2 ended and the U.S. and Japan became chummy so everyone could make money on electronics and such.)  Happily, we discover Rick really is on the side of the angels; he’s working for amiable spymaster A.V. Smith (Charles Halton of To Be or Not To Be; The Best Years of our Lives; Alfred Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent), who’s basically Rick’s spymaster for this mission. (He was gonna be reinstated once his mission was over, wasn’t he? I assume nothing!)  I enjoyed the swell repartee between Rick and Alberta. The dialogue is witty, fast, and peppery. For example:

Alberta: “I can do without money.”
Rick: “Stick with me and you’ll get plenty of practice.”

Rick notices Alberta’s comparatively skimpy cruise garb:
Rick: “I never saw anybody like you. You never have any clothes on.”
Alberta: “Well if anyone heard you complaining about it, they would put you in a psychopathic ward.”  (Note: Alberta’s so-called skimpy sea togs just looked like nice bathrobes and skirts to me, but this was 1942, so Astor’s fashions may well have seemed racy at the time!)

According to the TCM Web site, John Huston and many other Hollywood actors and filmmakers accepted commissions to become a lieutenant in the U.S. Army Signal Corps after the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Huston was called into service just before AtP wrapped.  Vincent Sherman (Mr. Skeffington; The Young Philadelphians; and one of my favorites, All Through the Night) took over.

Um, this guy is just here to put
a refreshing mint on Rick's pillow, right?

Huston and his cast work together as beautifully as they did in their previous hit. Astor has always been deft at drama (The Great Lie, for which she won her 1942 Best Supporting Actress Oscar), but she’s also always had a flair for comedy, too (The Palm Beach Story being a delightful example).  Astor and Bogart are an engaging onscreen couple, whether they’re playful or serious.  In one running gag (literally), Astor’s Alberta Marlow makes a prim, hilarious victim of seasickness: “Even if I live, I’ll never be the same again.”  And don’t get her started on the ship’s bread pudding!  The action goes from sea to land, from New York City (where Alberta insists on Rick buying a new suit. Guess she never heard that line from The Spanish Prisoner: “Beware of all enterprises which require new clothes.”), and finally, from Cristobal to Panama where the action gets red hot.  No wonder Crowther had more to say about AtP: “It’s like having a knife to your ribs for an hour and a half.”  That’s in a good way, I assure you!

Careful who you drink with, Rick! Remember when you drank with that Gutman character who slipped you a Mickey in San Francisco?

Don't mind me, Mr. Leland, I'm just looking for my cufflinks!

Anyone got a compact?  My lips are delightfully schmeared after all this gunplay!

"Mine's bigger than yours." Actual dialogue from the movie!

Alberta tells Rick that passenger T. Oki is not okey-dokey! So much for all Japanese looking alike!

Not a finger!

"Hey, hon, if we have a great time on this cruise, let's make a date at the Empire State Building a year from now!"

A great cast is worth repeating! Sydney Greenstreet, Humphrey Bogart, Victor Sen Yung, Mary Astor

What A Character! Frank McHugh, Annabelle’s Husband, & So Much More

Whoop it up, wranglers! Frank and the boys show
Texas visitors action in All Through the Night

This review is part of the What A Character! Blogathon, hosted by Paula of Paula’s Cinema Club, Kellee of Outspoken and Freckled, and Aurora of Once Upon A Screen. The Blogathon runs from September 22nd through 24th, 2012. By all means, please leave comments for one and all! :-)

My husband Vinnie and I first saw character actor Frank McHugh (1889-1981) on TV, when we were watching the 1942 Warner Bros. wartime comedy-thriller All Through the Night (ATtN) on TCM. We of Team Bartilucci loved both Frank and the movie right away!  And why wouldn’t we, with its great high concept: “Damon Runyon Kicks Nazi Heinie in NYC.”  Heck, we could easily devote this entire blogpost to ATtN alone, considering the cast’s many wonderful character actors. In addition to our Frank, ATtN’s cast included Humphrey Bogart (who I’ve always thought had the soul of a character actor along with his star quality); William Demarest; Jackie Gleason; Phil Silvers; Barton MacLaine; Edward Brophy; Wallace Ford; Charles Cane; Conrad Veidt; Judith Anderson; Martin Kosleck; and Peter Lorre.  But for us, Frank stole the show as Barney, the newlywed among the tough but good-natured “sports promoters” (translation: bookies and gamblers) in Bogart’s crew. We’ll always affectionately think of Frank as “Annabelle’s Husband” in honor of Barney’s new bride (Jean Ames), who barely even gets time to kiss her groom before Bogie & Company whisk him away to fight Fifth Columnists in New York City. As Barney, Frank gets some of the best lines in this totally entertaining blend of comedy and action:

Barney: “Annabelle’s waiting for me…after all, I’m a married man. I got obligations.”

Gloves (Bogart): “All right, send her flowers.”
 Barney: “Well…that wasn’t my idea.”

 

Slugger Frank clobbers Fifth Columnists in All Through the Night!

Talking to Madame (Anderson) at the auction house after Gloves and Sunshine (Demarest) are knocked out and tied up:

Barney: “Lookit, lady, when we started out tonight, there were three of us. Twenty minutes later, there was only two. Now there’s only one. One of us isn’t enough to leave here alone!”

Hooch your daddy? Frank and James Cagney in
The Roaring Twenties (1939)

Of course, before Frank became one of our favorite character actors, Francis Curray McHugh was born in Homestead, PA in 1889, the youngest member of a family of character actors. Indeed, the McHugh family had their own stock company, including sister Kitty McHugh and brother Matt McHugh. Sometimes they got screen credit, and sometimes they didn’t, but the McHugh family was always working, whether it was Matt playing uncredited roles like “Third Man on Death Row” in My Favorite Brunette or faux waiter Frisco in The Mad Miss Manton, or Kitty McHugh getting screen credits as Mae in The Grapes of Wrath or Goldie in Blonde Trouble. Fans of the 1947 film noir The Dark Corner may also recognize Matt as the milkman who comes to Lucille Ball’s apartment. At the age of 10, young Frank literally got into the act and began his own acting career with the rest of the clan.

Frank and James Cagney as sea salts in
Here Comes the Navy (1934)

Frank made his Broadway bow in 1925 in The Fall Guy. Five years later, Hollywood came a-knockin’, and he made his film debut in The Dawn Patrol.  Warner Bros. hired him as a contract player, where he usually played the hero’s sidekick and/or comedy relief.  Usually looking and sounding nervous yet likable, Frank appeared in over 90 movies at Warners, as well as Paramount’s Going My Way and My Son John, both of which cast McHugh as priests. (My Son John was Robert Walker’s last film, which you can read about in my Strangers on a Train post, if you’re interested.  But I digress….).  Frank’s regular-joe characters ranged from mechanics to newspapermen to sidekicks to tough guys—or not-so-tough guys, like the aforementioned Barney—with hearts of gold.  Frank often appeared with another in-demand character actor, Allen Jenkins (Ball of Fire; Lady on a Train; the voice of TV’s Officer Dibble on Hanna-Barbera’s Top Cat). Sometimes Frank even got the girl, a la ATtN!

Frank as Father Timothy O'Dowd in Going My Way

During Radio’s heyday, Frank proved to be as versatile a voice actor as he was a film actor, starring in 1935’s in Shell Chateau, and then in 1938 in the Warner Brothers Academy Theater. The next decade saw Frank performing in several Radio dramas. Then, in 1946, Frank got another break: popular Film and Radio comedian Stuart Erwin had been starring on the CBS Radio sitcom Phone Again, Finnegan. Realizing he was spreading himself too thin with commitments, Erwin stepped down, and Frank got the gig, joining the cast as Fairchild Finnegan.  By the early 1950s, Frank’s film career was winding down, so he migrated to Television, racking up over 80 TV credits. From 1964 through 1965, Frank and his Going My Way co-star teamed up for The Bing Crosby Show, where Frank played Bing's comic foil, Willis Walter.

Frank's in the swim with Elvis
in Easy Come, Easy Go (1967)

Ironically, Frank had supporting roles in two different films titled Easy Come, Easy Go (ECEG), which just goes to show that everything old is new again, at least when it comes to movie titles! The first ECEG was a 1947 comedy-drama described on the IMDb as “A film that possibly held the record for the most Irish-descent players in an American-produced movie before The Quiet Man was shot on location in Ireland, and that includes The Informer.”  The second ECEG was a 1967 Elvis Presley comedy-adventure with Navy frogman Elvis and local shopkeeper Frank joining forces to find undersea treasure—which turns tricky when Frank’s character, Captain Jack, confesses he’s afraid of water!

Being an in-demand
character actor is thirsty work!

Frank quietly retired from show business in 1969 with his wife, Dorothy, and died of natural causes in 1981, survived by his wife of 48 years and his three children. Of course, he lives on in the hearts and films of his many fans, including all of us here at Team Bartilucci HQ.  What A Character, indeed!

The 1947 Easy Come, Easy Go. Don't mix those two up!

If you want to hear more about All Through the Night, check my review here.