Reviews

I used to correspond with Robert Florey, who directed the early-talkie Paramount feature, "The Hole in the Wall" (1929). He told me that Edward G. Robinson, one of the many stage actors hired by the studios for their vocal ability, sound pictures then coming into their own, tended to, in this, his first talkie, "play to the camera"; hence Florey having to lie to him as to which of the multiple cameras on the set was the active one! He also mentioned that, upon learning of a train derailment, he and his crew rushed to the site and worked footage of the wreck into the movie. He kindly put me in touch with Ernst Fegte (1900 -- 1976), who was his Art Director (Paramount not crediting this in their films back then, one doesn't see Fegte listed as such in the numerous online articles dealing with his impressive career). Fegte, if I recall correctly, was working in television at the time, employed by Filmways. Aside from Florey haranguing him, in his pronounced French accent, for "my ghosts" he wanted for the eerie walls of the crystal-ball set (the medium enacted by Claudette Colbert), he recalled nothing of the large spooks he depicted. So, to refresh his memory, I sent him a rare 8 x 10 linen-backed keybook still of the scene, and that was the last I ever saw of my photo or ever heard from Fegte!

Cordially, Ray Cabana, Jr.

Enjoyed your online page devoted to THE BAT WHISPERS. Most such writeups foolishly reveal the identity of "the Bat". I use to correspond with its star, Chester Morris, who told me how he'd gotten a severe case of "klieg eye" by stepping before one such lamp with his eyes open while appearing in the film. And, I'll add, his role would've been far more effective had he replicated his likeable character of THE BIG HOUSE (MGM; 1930) instead of the unlikable "Detective Anderson"! Morris was then under contract to the director of this, and the 1926 silent version, Roland West./I have a 16mm print of THE BAT WHISPERS, struck from the 35mm nitrate negative for the 1938 rerelease by Atlantic Pictures, this domestic negative long missing; the UCLA Film & TV Archive had to use the 35mm European negative for their restoration: the picture was actually shot three times, counting the 65mm widescreen version, which the aforesaid archive also restored. I was paid to provide the liner notes when Blackhawk Films was going to release the film, but withdrew rather than sort out the sundry nitrate negatives discovered in the Mary Pickford film vault; the UCLA people had no such qualms./Atlantic subsequently edited THE BAT WHISPERS to just 71 or so minutes; the Astor rerelease of the Forties was from the edited negative./Bob Kane, whom I provided with a VHS copy of my print, the picture then still "lost", told me that it was, indeed, THE BAT WHISPERS which served as one of his inspirations for his famous Batman comic-book character. He also said he once came across Chester Morris (probably in Sutton Place South, where the actor resided), and informed him of having been an inspiration for Batman!/A piece of mine on THE BAT WHISPERS was published in a collection of such by McFarland, and later republished in another such collection of similar articles./My screening of THE BAT WHISPERS drew a full house at the Wistariahurst Museum (as officially spelled), this when the film was still virtually missing, the Springfield, Mass. Newspaper having given the presentation a large writeup! Film historian, later in charge of the UCLA Archive, Scott MacQueen, gave the introduction./ Sincerely, Ray Cabana, Jr.

I DON'T KNOW WHY I BOTHER DOING THIS; A PERVERSE HABIT, I SUPPOSE. AND SUCH REVIEWS TEND TO BE "ALL OVER THE PLACE", THE OPPORTUNITY TO SEE THEMSELVES IN PRINT TENDING TO BRING FOOLISH COMMENTATORS OUT OF THE PROVERBIAL WOODWORK, MANY WHO LITTLE QUALIFY TO GIVE VALID EVALUATIONS, THEIR KNOWLEGE OF CINEMA BEING SO OBVIOUSLY LACKING, RELYING ON TASTE INSTEAD (ALBEIT OBVIOUSLY POOR TASTE).

"THE FINGER POINTS" IS, TO ME, OBJECTIVELY AND SUBJECTIVELY, A GEM, FOR VARIUS REASONS, SUCH AS A FINE CAST, SCRIPT, AND CAMERAWORK (ERNEST HALLER'S VERY UNUSUAL TRAVELING SHOTS). AND THE CLIMACTIC MACHINE-GUNNING SCENE THE MOST IMPRESSIVE I'VE EVER SEEN, HAVING NO IDEA HOW IT WAS ACHIEVED (BACK WHEN EXPERT MARKSMAN WERE EMPLOYED FOR SUCH). CLARK GABLE IS SUPERB, BUT DARRYL F. ZANUCK CONSIDERED HIS EARS TOO LARGE, WHICH DIDN'T STOP MGM FROM SIGNING HIM SOONAFTER.

I have a beautiful 16mm print of "Little Accident" (1930); it's missing, as I recall, reel seven of nine, but this doesn't affect the continuity. I suspect my copy was a Universal "shelf print"; the only other I've ever seen was a very poor copy with an hour or so running time, this online. I acquired it along with another rare Universal talkie, "Undertow", starring Johnny Mack Brown prior to becoming JOHNNY Mack Brown, portraying western heroes. It has a brief running time, not quite an hour, as originally released early in 1930. I found its lighthouse background perhaps its most redeeming quality, but I know of no other copy being around!

Sincerely, Ray Cabana, Jr.

I first saw "The Atomic Submarine" (1959) theatrically as a teenager, and really enjoyed it. I especially appreciated the number of Hollywood veterans in the film, this, I would learn, due to the producer, Alex Gordon, who, in later years, would become a very good friend of mine. He told me that he had initially been displeased with the scenes involving the undersea creature, but I believe he was pleased when I told him how effective I considered them, in 1959 and now as well!

Two of the movie old-timers Alex had in the film were Edmund Cobb and Frank Lacteen, walking by as extras in the background of an early scene! Alex told me that by then, Lacteen had become terribly agoraphobic (unjustified fear of open spaces), so he, Alex, had to pick him up, drive him to the studio, then back to his apartment.

Cordially, Ray Cabana, Jr.

When, many moons ago, I interviewed director John Cromwell for an article I was preparing on the first big gangster-film star of the late Twenties/early Thirties, George Bancroft, I mentioned STREET OF CHANCE (Paramount; 1930) to him as an aside, it not containing Bancroft. His initial response was to confuse its genesis with gambler Nicky Arnstein, who, if I recall correctly, was married to Fannie Brice; but upon my putting forth Arnold Rothstein as the more likely source, he agreed. Arnstein was a gambler and apparent scoundrel; Rothstein also a gambler albeit far more notorious, infamously credited with having fixed a baseball World Series; his shooting death in 1928 was never solved. In STREET OF CHANCE, the shooting of the William Powell gambler is implied without being shown; his dying words, given in an ambulance rushing him to a hospital in response to an attendant's bet that he'll live, signals the film's final fadeout, these being, "You lose." When I complimented the director on this powerful, yet understated finale, he modestly responded something like, "Well, that's the kind of thing we were trying to do then." If, as John implied, such creativity was the order of the day, I've seen scant examples worthy of this one! Paramount remade the film in 1937 as HER HUSBAND LIES, starring Ricardo Cortez as the ill-fated gambler. A good little film, but lacking the tour-de-force quality engendered by the original which, sad to say, is a virtually forgotten motion picture.

Regards, Ray Cabana, Jr.

I have a nice print of OFFICER O'BRIEN (PATHE; 1930) in my 16mm collection; it's a rather rare copy, obtained from Charles Tarbox's Film Classic Exchange ages ago! He had a number of obscure Pathe features and told me that, at one time, he held the TV rights to these albeit limited to the Los Angeles area, where was also his shop. This surprised me, the pictures in question not then being in general television release! My copy has very good sound, so this "johnniedoo" probably saw an inferior print, possibly even a dupe. OFFICER O'BRIEN is not as good as one might expect, given its cast (William Boyd, Ernest Torrence) and director (Tay Garnett); but I, personally, appreciate such early-talkies, such as this, even existing!

Sincerely, Ray Cabana, Jr.

It's good that the 1940 motion-picture version of Thornton Wilder 's 1938 Pulitzer Prize-winning play, "Our Town", exists; not so good that, despite the displayed hoopla, its "restoration" leaves much to be desired (unlike the impressive results obtained by the UCLA Film & Television Archive when they restore a film!). At least the soundtrack is acceptable, if not the imagery, preserving the truly wonderful Aaron Copland musical score!

I once walked down Broadway on a crisp, snowy night, accompanying John Beal and Martha Scott - who had just appeared as supporting performers in a play - to the Algonquin Hotel, where they were staying. Scott had had the female lead in both the theatrical and filmed versions of "Our Town", and, oddly enough, seemed rather flighty, whereas Beal was "down to earth" and sat talking with me in the lobby about some of his movie credits. In the middle of our reminiscing, Scott hurriedly returned, in a state of extreme agitation, as if the world were ending. She had locked herself out of her room! Beal did his best to calm her, displaying the excellent equanimity so often comprising his movie roles.

But unlike in those acting roles, his cool, calm and collected persona failed in real life to "save the situation"!

Sincerely, Ray Cabana, Jr.

The reviews printed here are all over the place subject-wise. It's unfortunate that some of these were written by contemporary viewers with apparently little or no appreciation for the age of a motion picture, the date of its making, or the public's taste at the time. Myself, I usually find early-talkies of much interest, having been produced when sound was new (as opposed to film shows with live musicians providing the score), and revealing the maker's lack of creativity, or, conversely, creativity of a high order, still impressive today. "The Greene Murder Case" (Paramount; 1929) is rather an amalgam of both. Mysteries at the time were often very atmospheric; this seemed to be part and parcel of the attempts at sound recording. And Frank Tuttle, who directed this effort, was a fine craftsman who went on to direct motion pictures now regarded as classics. Some shots were done silently so as to free up the camera (a scene where it quickly ascends a staircase comes to mind), but most impressively, a cable was strung well over the exterior of the Greene mansion, itself a full-scale set, so that the attached camera could (unexpectedly) be hoisted, revealing the intimidating height of its roof garden, this serving to intensify the film's climax wherein the murderer plummets from it to certain death. In the 1928 S. S. Van Dine novel, the climactic car chase - one of the most exciting things I've ever read - was probably considered too difficult to film effectively; hence the top of the mansion serving as a similarly-exciting substitute. The sequence, as related by Van Dine, was, in effect, effectively achieved by director John Cromwell's car-chase finale to "The Mighty", a George Bancroft crime opus also made at Paramount in 1929, wherein he, Cromwell, took his mobile camera out into busy Los Angeles streets! An irony is that he had been a successful Broadway director, brought, with others, to Hollywood because they knew how to deal with dialogue, and here he was, refusing to have his motion pictures restricted by "talkie" requirements. "The Greene Murder Case", incidentally, is one of Van Dine's finest murder-mysteries (popular author John Dickson Carr, no less, selected it in the Forties as being one of the very finest of all such fare!); but, unfortunately, moviemakers of the day could not have done cinematic justice to its elaborate, yet brilliantly subtle, writing.

• Ray Cabana, Jr.

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE MOVIES; ITS STAR, CHESTER MORRIS, TOLD ME IT WAS ALSO HIS FAVORITE OF HIS MANY PICTURES. WHEN I MET ROBERT MONTGOMERY, WHO HAS A PRINCIPAL PART IN THE PRODUCTION, I SHOWED HIM A STILL FROM A PRISON MACHINE-SHOP SEQUENCE AND ASKED HIM IF THIS HAD BEEN A SET - WHICH, GIVEN ITS ELABORATENESS, WOULD'VE BEEN DIFFICULT TO CREDIT. AS HE RECALLED, THESE SCENES HAD BEEN SHOT AT A GENUINE MACHINE-SHOP IN NORTHERN HOLLYWOOD. IT'S WORTH NOTING THAT THE CLIMACTIC CONFRONTATION ENACTED BY MORRIS AND WALLACE BEERY, AS WOUNDED FORMER FRIENDS CRAWLING TOWARD EACH OTHER, WAS VIRTUALLY REPEATED IN "RENEGADES" (FOX; 1930 - WARNER BAXTER AND MYRNA LOY) AND "DUEL IN THE SUN" (RKO; 1946 - GREGORY PECK AND JENNIFER JONES). IT'S GOOD SEEING SO MANY POSITIVE REVIEWS HERE; VINTAGE FILMS SO OFTEN TEND TO ATTRACT THE NAYSAYERS, WHO OFTEN HAVE LITTLE IF ANY APPRECIATION OF THE MOTION PICTURE THEY'RE UNJUSTLY KNOCKING!

• RAY CABANA, JR.

ETHELIND TERRY WAS A THEATRICAL SINGER OF BEAUTY AND TALENT, THE HEIGHT OF HER CAREER STARRING IN THE TITLE ROLE OF THE LATE-TWENTIES BROADWAY HIT, "RIO RITA". SHE WAS PASSED OVER FOR RKO'S 1929 MOVIE VERSION IN FAVOR OF BEBE DANIELS - THIS PRODUCTION WITH AN EXTRAORDINARILY LENGTHY RUNNING TIME! MISS TERRY DID HAVE THE FEMALE LEAD IN "LORD BYRON OF BROADWAY" (MGM; 1930), A BAD FEATURE ALTHOUGH WITH THE SONGSTRESS PERFORMING IN A TRULY WONDERFUL MUSICAL NUMBER, "WOMAN IN THE SHOE", PHOTOGRAPHED IN THE TWO-STRIP TECHNICOLOR PROCESS AND LATER REUSED IN "NERTSERY RHYMES", A 1933 MGM COMEDY SHORT FEATURING THE THREE STOOGES WITH TED HEALY (HE AN ANCHOR AROUND THEIR NECKS BEFORE THEY LEFT HIM IN 1934 FOR COLUMBIA PICTURES). TERRY CONTINUED TO STAR IN VARIOUS STAGE MUSICALS, NONE VERY SUCCESSFUL. IN 1937, SHE APPEARED IN A TEX RITTER WESTERN FOR GRAND NATIONAL (A SMALL STUDIO) ENTITLED "ARIZONA DAYS", AND THEREIN LIES A TRULY STRANGE CIRCUMSTANCE: RECEIVING PROMINENT BILLING (THIRD AFTER RITTER'S HORSE, "WHITE FLASH"!) ON POSTERS AND LOBBY CARDS - AND HAVING A BIT OF DIALOGUE WITH ANOTHER WOMAN, BOTH SEATED UPON A WAGON EARLY IN THE STORY - THE SINGER DISAPPEARS FROM THE PRODUCTION! STILLS SHOW HER PERFORMING IN A STAGE NUMBER, VERIFYING THAT SHE HAD A PROMINENT ROLE INITIALLY. BUT ETHELIND TERRY NO LONGER IS EVEN BILLED IN THE PICTURE'S MAIN CREDITS! WHAT HAPPENED? ASIDE FROM A FEW NEWS PHOTOS OF HER AS ASSISTING THE WAR EFFORT BY BEING EMPLOYED IN AN AIRCRAFT PLANT, THIS IN 1943 - STILL HIGHLY ATTRACTIVE - SHE SEEMINGLY DISAPPEARS, AS SHE DID FROM THE TEX RITTER FILM. HER DEATH IS GIVEN AS MARCH 17, 1984 IN FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA, REPORTEDLY WEALTHY ; ADDITIONAL DETAILS, HOWEVER, ARE NOT INCLUDED. PERHAPS AN EXPLANATION WAS RENDERED FOR HER NO LONGER BEING IN THE WESTERN FEATURE, THIS IN A TRADE PAPER SUCH AS "VARIETY" OR "THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER" - UNLESS THEY, TOO, HAD BY THEN LITTLE IF ANY INTEREST IN THIS ONCE VERY SUCCESSFUL SINGER.

SINCERELY, RAY CABANA, JR.

Here I go again, although I do wonder why I bother.

A cursory look seems to indicate that many of the reviews on this site are negative. To put it plainly, this in large measure is due, aside from personal taste, to the reviewer not having the knowledge to render a reliable assessment. I have to wonder if these people have actually viewed the film in question - of course they have, but the so-called faults referred to don't even qualify as such; it's as if these commentators hadn't seen the film! For example: the pacing is excellent, a grotesque murder, no less, opening the picture! Boring cinematography? Not at all! The tracking shot of a character before he is murdered in broad daylight provides but one example: the camera stays with him until he goes out of sight behind a stone bluff, but even then continues at the same pace. A scuffle is heard; a cry; a shot; the sound of the killer's hastily retreating footsteps after the victim falls into view, a chess bishop in his dead hand. Cut to the heroine, reading nursery rhymes to the children gathered about her as police can be noticed in the background, hurrying to the scene of the crime. A superbly creative touch, of which the movie has many. The sinister gloved hand reaching out for a hunchback (in effect Humpty Dumpty), seated on a park wall on a misty night. As he turns slightly, as if sensing his peril, the hand darts back out of sight, like some deadly reptile, only to quickly return to pull the man to his death (Humpty Dumpty's "great fall"!). The fiend's midnight visit to frighten an elderly, bedridden woman. A triptych shot of the heroine's terrified face, captured from different angles in the mirrors of her dresser, as she becomes aware of another's presence in the house. Her suspenseful venturing into the dark attic, from which she had heard unexplainable typing, there to be suddenly rendered a captive by "The Bishop" - the name by which the multiple murderer signs himself. Only someone unacquainted with suspenseful direction would be oblivious to that seen in this film, preferring to compose their irresponsible opinions. Noteworthy too is the New York City exteriors, achieved with excellent process shots, this despite the movie having been produced on the West Coast. But I, doubtless, waste my time here; for, given the seeming predominance of unqualified, self-appointed, naysaying movie critics, I find myself rather hopelessly outnumbered! As the last major studio to accept talkies, thinking them but a fad, MGM's "The Bishop Murder Case", completed in 1929, reveals an impressive grasp of the new medium, and should be considered in that light rather than criticized.

With a sigh or two, Ray Cabana, Jr.

"The Ninth Guest" was produced as a motion picture by Columbia, this in 1933 and released in 1934. In the Fifties, it was released to TV by Screen Gems, a subsidiary of Columbia, but was subsequently pulled from circulation. I was told some time ago, by someone at Columbia, that the picture was being readied for a rerelease - hopefully with the title card restored to the original - but this has not yet happened.

The film was based on the 1930 book entitled "The Invisible Host" and also the stage version, also 1930, with the title "The Ninth Guest" - this guest being Death! The book's novel plot has eight people invited and trapped in a penthouse, where they are scheduled to die sequentially (in the film, a fancy illuminated wall clock steadfastly renders the time, as if emphasizing the inevitable deaths!). One of thirty such books published in the early Thirties by the Mystery League, the most commercial aspect of these their striking art deco dust jackets - the main reason people collect them nowadays (most of the entries being outlandishly mediocre!).

The motion picture was helmed by veteran director, Roy William Neill, probably best remembered for directing eleven of the twelve superb "Sherlock Holmes" features released by Universal in the Forties. With the 1934 mystery, Neill transcended the finite area of a penthouse, in which most of the narrative transpires, with creative lighting and fluid camerawork - in one scene, the frightened victims are photographed through a large statuary hand, appearing to be in its grasp; for another, the cowering group are viewed from within a radio, the slats symbolizing bars! These creative touches are not heavy-handed but rather executed quickly; to look away could be to miss either! Discovering eight coffins lining the roof garden is yet another macabre touch.

Often compared to Agatha Christie's 1939 masterpiece, "And Then There Were None", "The Ninth Guest" gets into a bind when only three survivors remain in the penthouse, one of whom has to be the killer - whereas Christie's novel employs an ingenious gimmick serving to conceal the villain's identity, and in the end, all ten of the characters are dead (this not suitable to Christie's theatrical version, "Ten Little Indians", she changed it so as to have two people survive the mass murder!).

The Roy William Neill tour de force makes up for not having the guilty party consume poison, as in the novel and play, by electrocuting himself before the startled eyes of the couple who survived his machinations. As sparks fly about wildly and the current hums, the camera goes from the quivering killer to a light up in the wall, fluttering crazily before it goes out. End of picture.

An old Screen Gems print of "The Ninth Guest" can be viewed on the Internet. It's worth seeing!

• Ray Cabana, Jr.

I'm writing this in response to the condescending review posted from one Martin Hafer - and I don't know where he viewed the film in its entirety unless purchasing a DVD of it from Greg Luce's Sinister Cinema (my having allowed Greg to make copies available in this format, these derived from my 16mm print). And I just gave Geno Cuddy the go-ahead to make it available, in full, on one of his Websites; prior to that he was using a condensation containing all of the credits but only the final scene! The picture had its initial public airing yesterday evening (Sunday, May 31st, 2020).

"THE LINE-UP" (not to be confused with the 1934 Columbia feature of that title) is an awkward production which, like any number of contemporary Poverty Row productions, wasn't even copyrighted (copyright dates printed on their films notwithstanding!). Its crudity can be attributed to, as the case with any number of releases from even the major studios, their attempts to master sound recording (here using the Cinephone system, as also utilized by Walt Disney, Mascot Pictures, the Ub Iwerks cartoons released by MGM, etc.). Its gritty, realistic look, however, is commendable, particularly as concerns sequences involving the police (with a good number of official detectives, this rather surprising for a film shot on the proverbial shoestring). The plot resembles that of the first all-talking feature (which itself started out as a short subject), "LIGHTS OF NEW YORK" (Warner Bros.; 1928); but it contains a surprising finale involving the identity of the chief culprit - a plot twist apparently considered a no-no in cinema stories up to this time although used in mystery fiction by Marie Connor Leighton and Robert Leighton (1899); Melvin Severy (1904); Gaston Leroux (1908, preceding his famous 1910 novel, "The Phantom of the Opera"); et al. - and subsequently used by such noted detective-story writers as Edgar Wallace (who resorted to the ploy more than once) and Ellery Queen, this with but slight variations. Not till Paramount released two feature-length movies, in 1931 and 1933 respectively, did the motif employed in "THE LINE-UP" again materialize. Since then, it has shown up in any number of mystery pictures.

My print is believed to be the only one extant, purchased years ago from a Los Angeles film-rental library, the proprietor of which mistakenly sold it to me as an entry in the early-Fifties TV series bearing the same title! No doubt having passed away by now, the explanation as to how he could've mistaken an item from his plethora of theatrical films, all of long-ago vintage, with a Fifties TV program, will remain as lost to us as "THE LINE-UP" previously had been!

• Ray Cabana, Jr.