laurencetuccori Reviews

Pick a Star (1937)

Pick A Star - just not an A list or B list one

[5/10 · 15 February 2014]

PICK A STAR was independent producer Hal Roach's brave but ill-advised 1937 effort to take on the big studios at their own game. MGM, Warner Brothers and Paramount had the stars, the production talent and the money to turn out lavish musicals even when the subject was the Great Depression. Roach had Patsy Kelly, Jack Haley and whatever change he could find down the back of the sofa.

It's understandable that he'd want to set his sights on bigger things than the two reel Laurel and Hardy comedies that had made him famous. Shorts are alright, and the Laurel and Hardy shorts were more than alright, but if he wanted to be taken seriously as a film producer he needed to step up to the big time, and that meant full length features. That also meant bigger production costs and while Hal Roach was certainly not a member of the Poverty Row group of studios he wasn't anywhere near the top tier either.

The paucity of funds is only too evident in every frame of PICK A STAR. It's not just the unimpressive sets but it's the uninspiring cast of C-list actors none of whom have the star-power to carry a film. Patsy Kelly carved out a very respectable career for herself as the loud and unladylike comic-relief in a long string of mostly low budget movies, but even she must have been surprised to find herself top billed in a musical, while Jack Haley was a fine song and dance man (and was to achieve immortality 2 years later as the Tin Man in 'The Wizard of Oz') but he's definitely not romantic leading man material. Roach further hampered his own ambitions by casting Rosina Lawrence (who? - exactly) as the nominal leading lady despite her glaring lack of charisma, charm or appeal. If that's not already enough to turn off audiences, the character she plays is so shallow and self-centered that there's really no incentive to root for the Cinderella ending the story's setting her up for.

If plausibility were a pre-requisite (and of course it's not because this is a Hollywood musical) she'd walk off into the sunset with the equally shallow and narcissistic Rinaldo Lopez, the patently inauthentic Latin lover movie star played by Mischa Auer. But in that scenario, Jack Haley would discover true love in the arms of Patsy Kelly and that's something no audience would buy!

Combined with an unimaginative and well-worn (even in 1937) story about a small-town mid-western girl dreaming of stardom in Hollywood, and some clumsily staged musical numbers which serve only to further highlight Busby Berkeley's genius as a choreographer, PICK A STAR boasts all the ingredients of a solid gold bomb. The film's saving grace is the cameo by Roach's biggest stars, Laurel and Hardy. The boys appearance has nothing to do with the story's forward motion but everything to do with giving moviegoers a reason to fork over ticket money to see the film. Their two scenes, while not classic L & H, are a very welcome distraction from the increasingly dull proceedings and the only real reason for watching the film in the first place.

Check out more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

Another Time, Another Place (1958)

Connery's eyebrows deserve their own screen credit

[3/10 · 20 October 2013]

I'm still trying to figure out exactly what is the most ridiculous thing about this 1958 Paramount melodrama - the notion of Lana Turner as an ace war correspondent, or Sean Connery's eyebrows. Turner plays Sara Scott, one of those movie journalists who remains gainfully employed despite never letting work get in the way of their personal life. She swans around wartime London in a fur coat, perfectly coiffed and oblivious to the realities of modern warfare although, to be fair, it's not difficult for her not to notice when director Lewis Allen has chosen to mostly omit it from the mise-en-scene. Other than a sequence showing sappers defusing an unexploded V2 rocket, and Scott's hired help making a passing reference to rationing, there's no indication that this is a city that's been at war for nearly 6 years. There's no bombed out buildings, no indication of food, gas or clothing shortages, and barely anyone in uniform on the streets. As a peroxide blonde society lady who spends her time lunching, loving and shopping on 5th Avenue, Turner is entirely convincing. As a highly rated journalist ready to fly off at a moment's notice to whichever battle front her editor deems her presence and writing talents to be essential, she's somewhat less plausible than Steven Seagal tackling Shakespeare. Which brings us to Mr Connery's eyebrows. They are both a wonder and a mystery and put Robert Pattinson's brow hair to shame. His are wider but inexpressive and just sit there above his eyes. Connery's, in contrast, are longer and undulate like two strips of dark brown deep shag carpeting strapped to the back of a couple of adult earthworms. They're so impressive they actually distract attention from his luxuriant head of hair which to anyone used to the older, more follically challenged Connery, is a talking point in itself. ANOTHER TIME ANOTHER PLACE was not the 28 year old's first movie but it was the first time his name had been billed in such close proximity to the film's stars, and clearly no one had considered that a little personal grooming might be in order to reflect his new status as love interest to a bona fide Hollywood star. His agent might also have found a tactful way to suggest that having Connery's character, with his distinct Scottish accent, wax lyrical at great length about his idyllic home town on the coast of Cornwall, might not be the most convincing. But even shifting location and pruning his eyebrows would not have prevented this turgid drama from dissolving into a pool of smelly sludge. Nothing about it rings true and no one does anything to evince our interest or sympathy. It's just a bust. Check out more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

Man of a Thousand Faces (1957)

MAN OF A THOUSAND FACES: at least five hundred of them in shadow

[4/10 · 13 October 2013]

When James Cagney was cast as legendary silent film star Lon Chaney in 1957 he was 58 years old. That made him 11 years old than Chaney when he died of cancer in 1930. Which posed a formidable challenge - how to make a very middle-aged Cagney look credible when portraying Chaney as a young man. Director Joseph Pevney's solution was to shoot Cagney almost exclusively in long-shot for three quarters of the movie and also in shadow. Not artistically lit or subtle shadow, mind you. These shadows are big and black and blot out Cagney's face. They're the kind of obscuring shadows that would have the director screaming "cut! cut! CUT!!" on any other film and then chewing out the cameraman in front of the whole crew for lighting the scene so ineptly. There is no reason for these shadows other than to obscure Cagney's features. They do nothing to create or enhance mood, or convey a message. These are shadows that put the worst of film noir to shame. On the couple of occasions when Pevney attempts something resembling a medium close-up he over-lights Cagney's face, clumsily but effectively burning out any detail including his wrinkles. But Pevney's not simply a two or even three trick pony when it comes to concealing the ravages of time. He also has Cagney play several scenes in thick clown face make-up - because that's what we remember Chaney for. You might think that a biopic of Hollywood's first great horror actor might focus the bulk of its attention on recreating those years and films, but MAN OF A THOUSAND FACES spends an inordinate amount of its overlong running time bringing us up to speed on Chaney's vaudeville career. I'm not doubting that it was an important training ground but do we really need to see the dancing clown routine more than once? Actually, if it weren't for Pevney's ham-fisted efforts to obscure Cagney's inappropriateness for the part, this film would have very little to recommend it. If writer Ralph Wheelwright's account is to believed (and from some sources I've read it might not be), Chaney's personal life was a little on the turbulent side, but the way it plays out here is so flat, unimaginative and uninspired that it's a chore to stick with it. Within the limitations previously discussed, Cagney gives a good account of himself, demonstrating his versatility as an actor and a hoofer while suppressing most of the Cagneyisms that characterized many of his performances. But not for one moment did he lose himself in the part, and that meant I never shook the feeling that I was watching him playing a part rather than watching him become the part. Check out more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

Naked Alibi (1954)

NAKED ALIBI: caution - film may not deliver on promises inherent in title

[2 September 2013]

I'm not sure how Universal slipped this one past the Bureau of Consumer Protection, but they did. Despite the title's bold claim, this 1954 crime drama features absolutely no nudity or alibis - clothed or unclothed. On the plus side, it does co-star the deliciously sexy Gloria Grahame, but on the minus side it's a very poorly written part which does nothing to showcase her particular talents. She plays Marianna, a saloon singer in a sleazy town on the US side of the Mexican border, who manages to get herself involved with both an ex-cop (Sterling Hayden) and the suspected cop-killer (Gene Barry) he is obsessively pursuing. Even by the often convoluted standards of film noir (which this movie aspires to be) plotting, the story makes little sense, but there's little else to distract the attention. Hayden sleepwalks through his part with the air of an actor focusing on his paycheck rather than the script's obvious flaws, while Barry struggles unsuccessfully to create some sort of plausible whole out of the many inconsistencies in his character. In one scene he's a baker and family man wrongly accused by bullying detectives of murdering an officer, and in the next he's a big shot gangster (without a gang or criminal purpose) on the Mexican border, splashing the cash, roughing up the locals, and inflicting his particularly aggressive brand of lovin' on Miss Grahame. Quite how or why he leads this double life doesn't trouble director Jerry Hopper. In fact, very little seems to bother Mr Hopper. Not the implausible plot, the waste of talent (Grahame and Hayden) or the film's slapped-together-on-a-shoestring feel. NAKED ALIBI was shot in large part on the Universal back-lot and it looks it. The town square will be instantly recognizable from countless other movies made by the studio, while the border town's back alleys and loading docks are littered with those empty wooden crates one only ever sees in such large numbers in low budget movies where they're trying to fill in the space without spending money on props. Production values are so low that NAKED ALIBI plays more like a lackluster 1950s TV drama than a big screen entertainment. If Hopper thought he was contributing to the often stylish and memorable canon of low-budget film noir thrillers which many studios turned out in the early 1950s he was wrong. The confused plot, unimaginative camera-work and cast going through the motions put paid to that. For the Gloria Grahame completists among us this is a must-see, for everyone else there's plenty of other, much more rewarding things, you could be doing with your time. Check out more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

The Horn Blows at Midnight (1945)

Benny blows a bum note

[3/10 · 5 August 2012]

Comedian Jack Benny spent the second half of his long career poking fun at this film, disparaging it at every opportunity and mocking his performance in it.

For the longest time I believed this was just a joke and that the film wasn't nearly as bad as Jack made it out to be.

Oh boy, was I wrong.

THE HORN BLOWS AT MIDNIGHT is possibly the most ill-advised project Benny ever signed up for, and I say that as a die-hard Benny fan and proud owner of every episode of his radio show.

He plays Athaneal, third trumpet player in a radio orchestra, who falls asleep during a broadcast and dreams that he's an angel sent to Earth to blow the last trumpet, signaling the end of the world, at exactly midnight. But a couple of fallen angels, who'd previously failed to do the job, are determined to stop him. Confusion ensues as the inept Athaneal attempts to complete his mission, oblivious to the deceitful wiles of his opponents.

Given the premise, the fine supporting cast (Reginald Gardner, Franklin Pangborn, Alexis Smith, Margaret Dumont,Guy Kibbee, Mike Mazurki) and veteran director Raoul Walsh at the helm, this should have been a surefire hit. So why does the entire project fall flat on its face?

There's several reasons.

The script is terrible,the supporting cast is wasted and the comedy is lame in the extreme. Neither of the credited screenplay writers demonstrate the slightest talent for writing comedy above a fifth grade level, and it's directed with a complete absence of style. An overwhelming sense of desperation pervades every scene involving bits of business that might very - very - loosely be termed comedy, and the story's climax is so crudely constructed as to be downright embarrassing.

On their own these failings cripple the film, but what really sabotages any chance of success for THE HORN BLOWS AT MIDNIGHT is the casting or - more accurately - the miscasting of Jack Benny.

By 1945 Benny's character was firmly established in the American psyche thanks to his long running and immensely popular radio show. As far as the public was concerned Benny was vain, penny pinching, petty, frequently exasperated and eternally 39 years old. He was a consummate comedian who didn't tell jokes but allowed himself more often than not to be the butt of jokes set up by the talented cast of characters he surrounded himself with on his weekly show. He could get a bigger laugh out of his patented pause than any punchline, and he was - despite his many apparent character flaws - universally loved by radio audiences.

THE HORN BLOWS AT MIDNIGHT takes advantage of exactly none of these traits, choosing instead to have Benny play a thinly sketched character who looks like Jack Benny but doesn't resemble him at all. There's nothing in the part of Athaneal that contemporary audiences could identify with, and nothing in this new Benny character that's funny enough to elicit a laugh either. Why have him be a trumpeter when he was universally known as a (very bad) violin player is a mystery.

The sum total of these misjudgments is a film that's a major disappointment.I'm not surprised that Benny mocked it for the rest of his days. What else could he do? He had to have recognised it was an incredible career misstep and one which he was lucky to recover from because he didn't depend on films to sustain his popularity.

Had his radio show writers been similarly dumb enough to tamper with a winning formula we probably wouldn't remember him today as one of the greats of American comedy.

Check out more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

Hell on Frisco Bay (1955)

Watching a star trying hard to wreck his own film

[5/10 · 17 April 2012]

A film noir shot in colour, in cinemascope, with scenes set mostly outdoors during daylight hours, and making ample use of San Francisco's picturesque landscape, starts out with several counts against it.

But contravention of most if not all of the conventions of the noir genre is the least of this movie's problems.

The biggest drag on the story is its star. Alan Ladd strolls through the plot like a Californian Redwood on legs. If it weren't a clash of materials, it would not be unfair to characterise his woodenness as robotic. There's not an ounce of enthusiasm or conviction in his performance as Steve Rollins, an ex-cop wrongly convicted of manslaughter, who leaves jail vowing vengeance on the gangsters who framed him.

Ridiculously attired in a linen suit that never creases or stains despite several bare knuckle dust ups, he fearlessly provokes corrupt waterfront boss Victor Amato (Edward G Robinson) into a showdown that can only result in death or victory.

Along the way, just to demonstrate what a straight-up, honorable guy he is, Rollins rebuffs his wife (Joanne Dru) for a moment of weakness while he was in jail (but only after he'd refused to let her visit him for three years) and comes to the aid of a nightclub singer (Fay Wray) whose life Amato is threatening. All of which Ladd achieves without once moving a facial muscle.

So thank god for Edward G.Robinson! He singlehandedly saves HELL ON FRISCO BAY with a performance that is considerably better than the film deserves. Robinson's career was in a slump in 1955, mostly as a result of the anti-communist blacklist, and he was no longer getting A-list parts, but he never stopped giving his best to whatever work came his way. He's as great here as he was in 'Little Caesar' and 'Key Largo.' His Victor Amato is a fully-rounded, believable and disturbing character, a psychopath who can charm the parish priest one moment and order the murder of his own nephew the next. When Robinson's on screen it's almost possible to forget he's inhabiting the same story as dreary lifeless Alan Ladd.

Credit is also due to Paul Stewart who makes the most of his underwritten part as Amato's put-upon right hand man, and watch out for an uncredited but instantly recognisable Jayne Mansfield in her last bit part before exploding into America's consciousness with 'The Girl Can't Help It' a few months later.

HELL ON FRISCO BAY is a decidedly mediocre tale but a fine example of an actor proving himself better than the material he's given to work with. Watch this and you may well be put off Alan Ladd for life but you'll definitely want another serving of the wonderful Edward G Robinson.

Read more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

The Moonlighter (1953)

A 3D disaster - dreadful, dreary and demoralising

[2/10 · 3 April 2012]

I can't recall the last time I watched a film that so poorly served its stars.

I can only imagine that Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray went home every evening, locked the door, pulled the shades and bawled their eyes out over THE MOONLIGHTER. It's a truly demoralising viewing experience so I can only imagine how terrible it must have been to actually work on it.

Writer Niven Busch has given them practically every cliché in the Western genre to mouth, and he's so intent in cramming in every last hoary phrase that he doesn't even bother to ensure that it at least makes sense. In too many scenes Stanwyck and MacMurray appear to be talking across one another, reciting lines that have very little to do with what the other just said to them.

This 1953 film is a tragic comedown for two stars who had set the screen alight 9 years earlier with their unforgettable portrayals of a weak willed insurance salesman and a murderously cold-blooded femme fatale in 'Double Indemnity.' If they'd never done anything else that film would assure them of a place in movie history, and after scaling those heights it can be difficult to understand why they would willingly plumb the depths with this sub-standard turkey.

The answer, I'm guessing, is money and the need to earn a paycheck. In the early 1950s westerns were often the last stop before the despised medium of television for film stars on the slide (even Claudette Colbert made a western!). Neither Stanwyck nor MacMurray were box office hits anymore and I imagine they were grateful to accept the script when it was offered to them.

One senses they both went into the project with the best intentions but neither of them sounds remotely convincing regurgitating the abysmal dialogue and there's absolutely no sense of the smoldering passion supposedly burning between them. MacMurray speaks mostly in a high pitch monotone while Stanwyck operates on autopilot. Given that this is the great Barbara Stanwyck it's high quality autopilot - better than many other actors on their best day - but still far beneath what's she's capable of.

This black and white movie was originally released in 3D but it's hard to tell (I watched it in 2D) just how much use director Roy Rowland made of the special effect. Nothing comes flying out of the screen and there's few shots that would have benefited from the extra depth that 3D offers. My best guess, based on the slightly unusual lighting in some medium close up scenes of the two stars in a clinch, is that they would have appeared to be in front of the screen with the background further behind them than it actually was. If I'm right, it's really not worth the price of a pair of 3D specs.

Unconvincing, implausible, boring, clichéd, embarrassing, demoralising and just downright bad, THE MOONLIGHTER is truly terrible in every regard and a stain on the reputation of its illustrious stars. The only saving grace is that it is almost completely forgotten today. I only wish I could erase it from my memory.

Read more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

The Phynx (1970)

An embarrassment of stars - and not in the good sense

[2/10 · 14 March 2012]

If The Monkees are QVC-peddled diamonique to The Beatles flawless diamonds, then The Phynx are plastic, made in China, children's jewelry sold in large bins at the Dollar Tree store.

This bizarre 1970 musical comedy is very obviously designed to cash in on the success of the Pre-Fab Four but it's so bad it succeeds only in falling well short of that less than ambitious goal.

The Phynx are a manufactured pop group, comprising 4 minimally talented, totally charisma-free young men, who are put together by the SSA - Super Secret Agency - with the intention of infiltrating Albania and rescuing a bunch of American celebrities who have been kidnapped by the country's communist dictator.

Are you still following me?

The Phynx is badly written, poorly acted trash that doesn't even rise to the redeeming level of kitsch. This leaden satire is less funny than the least amusing 'Saturday Night Live' sketch, and Mike Stoller and Jerry Leiber - the men who wrote 'Jailhouse Rock,''Love Me' and 'King Creole' for Elvis - should be ashamed at the musical tripe they served up for The Phynx to sing.

But still I stuck with it and the reason was the supporting cast list. The kidnapped celebrities are actual celebrities! Director Lee H.Katzin has rounded up a 1970 Who's Who of old time Hollywood stars still upright,breathing and willing to prostitute themselves for a final chance to grasp for even a tiny portion of their former fame.

Cinema's most famous Tarzan and Jane, Johnny Weissmuller and Maureen O'Sullivan are reunited for one brief scene; tiresome Bowery Boys Leo Gorcey and Huntz Hall rehash thirty seconds of their tiresome schtick; and there's blink and you'll miss 'em appearances by Joan Blondell, Dorothy Lamour, Busby Berkeley, Andy Devine, Butterfly McQueen, Rudy Vallee, Edgar Bergen, George Jessel, Ruby Keeler, Joe Louis and even KFC founder Colonel Sanders!

Their plight as fodder in this third rate production is best summed up by Warner Bros veteran Pat O'Brien, who wearily turns to Marilyn Maxwell during the final chase scene (in a turnip wagon) and says "If only I'd played the other part I'd be in Sacramento right now (as Governor of California) and Ronald Reagan would be here." It's meant as a joke but the expression on O'Brien's face and the tone of his voice suggests otherwise.

A monumental embarrassment to everyone involved, The Phynx is about as close to unwatchable as it gets without actually turning off the TV.

Check out more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

The Sitter (2011)

Cringingly awful comedy that's superbad

[1/10 · 4 March 2012]

Mere words cannot accurately describe the true awfulness of this alleged comedy. Imagine a group of minimally talented amateurs getting the opportunity to write, produce, direct and act in a multi-million dollar mainstream Hollywood movie about a reluctant babysitter who takes his charges on a night of wild adventure through New York and you'll start to graze the surface of the awfulness. I say minimally talented not to suggest that there are some glimmerings of talent on show here, but simply to acknowledge the fact that the boom mic stays out of shot, the camera doesn't fall over at any point, and no one blows their lines. Star Jonah Hill should be as embarrassed as heck about his participation in this lazy, sloppy unpleasant smelling film. He can't blame the writer and director because this project is his baby. He's one of the executive producers! What's even more explicable is that he made it immediately after his Oscar nominated turn in 'Moneyball.' That's self-inflicted reputation trashing on scale not witnessed since Cuba Gooding Jr's post 'Jerry Maguire' career. Co-star Sam Rockwell should also be ashamed. He overacts so ridiculously he makes Hill look good in comparison - and Hill is not good in this film. Not so much a disappointment as an insult, The Sitter is an absolute waste of time and money.

see more of my reviews at http://thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com/

Paul (2011)

PAUL: appaulingly dismal entertainment

[2/10 · 10 June 2011]

With each subsequent release it's becoming increasingly obvious that Simon Pegg's smash hit success as writer and star of 'Shaun of the Dead' was a fluke rather than the birth of a new cinematic comedy talent. The eagerly anticipated follow-up 'Hot Fuzz' was a damp squib, 'Run Fatboy Run' limped along, and now comes PAUL which, uninspiring title aside, is bereft of any real laughs. Pegg re-teams with his 'Shaun' co-star Nick Frost as Graeme and Clive, a pair of comic book geeks who find themselves caught up in a surreal chase across the wilderness of Nevada, Utah and Wyoming in the company of a 4ft tall alien called Paul. Paul looks like ET and sounds like Seth Rogen, which is probably because he is voiced by Rogen phoning in his performance with the minimum effort. Paul confounds almost every one of Graeme and Clive's long held expectations about how a space alien should behave but none of it's funny. His lines and most of the set-ups are lazy and flabby, relying on the old comedic fall back of "it's funny because we (Pegg and Frost) are in it and we are comedians ergo the scene's funny" instead of writing something that is actually funny. I'd like to say it's self-indulgent humour of the "you had to be there" variety but I was there watching PAUL and I still didn't laugh. Not simply a misfire, and certainly not a future cult classic, PAUL is just a monumental waste of time.

Read more of my reviews at www.thefilmivejustseen.blogspot.com

All About Steve (2009)

Bullock's latest plumbs new depths of awfulness

[1/10 · 5 September 2009]

Until this afternoon I've been so hot for Sandra Bullock I'd drive fifty miles to watch a silent movie of her ironing bedsheets. But having just sat through her latest movie ALL ABOUT STEVE I've downsized that maximum distance to ten feet (and she'd have to be ironing underwear).

ALL ABOUT STEVE seriously challenges "Miss Congeniality 2" for the title of worst Sandra Bullock film ever. This alleged rom-com is a witless, lame ragbag of slapdash clichés devoid of originality, humour or entertainment value. Ms Bullock has built her career playing lovable klutzy outsiders who overcome all manner of (usually) self-induced adversities to triumph personally and professionally. In the best of these ("Two Weeks Notice", "Miss Congeniality") her social ineptness has been endearing and often adorable but here it's just plain disturbing.

Her character, Mary Horowitz, is unintentionally borderline autistic. She's very intelligent but totally clueless when it comes to developing personal relationships or appreciating how her obsession with her job (she creates crosswords for a small Sacramento newspaper) appears to others. At one point she actually jots down her editor's advice to "be normal" as if that's the only way she's going to remember it. When she develops a fixation with TV news channel cameraman Steve (Bradley Cooper) after a disastrous blind date and starts following him across country from one assignment to the next the effect is scary. Mary (who constantly refers to herself in the third person) is more stalker than smitten, and completely unconvincing to boot.

Bullock fails to imbue Mary with even an ounce of credibility as a character, settling instead for a weird mix of childlike innocence, demented schoolgirl and overage virgin. Imagine watching someone with no concept of the meaning of the phrase "to act" being instructed to act. To be fair to Ms Bullock her performance is no worse than the script or Phil Traill's direction, both of which tarnish the description pedestrian with their lazy lack of effort and imagination.

Rom-coms don't make any claim to be realistic nor do audiences expect the story that unfolds to be completely plausible or even likely. But it would be nice to be offered the possibility that it might happen. A token gesture in the direction of believability rarely harms an audience's ability to enjoy. For example, showing or perhaps simply suggesting that the CNN-style cable news channel Steve works for employs more than one cameraman and reporter rather than having him and egotistical journo Hartman Hughes (Thomas Haden Church) as the sole team dashing from one breaking story to the next across vast distances apparently at the speed of light.

As star and producer of ALL ABOUT STEVE my beloved Sandy has only herself to blame for this execrable mess. What was she thinking?! Was she thinking? If ever there was an argument for installing a fast forward button in the arm of each cinema seat this film is it. It's ninety six minutes of my life that I'll never recover.

Do her and yourself a huge favour and remember her as she was, and not what she's become.

Starlift (1951)

Considerably fewer stars than there are in heaven

[3/10 · 27 June 2009]

It's nothing more than a weird coincidence that I decided to watch STARLIFT on the 59th anniversary of the day in June 1950 when President Truman's ordered US forces into the Korean War. STARLIFT, you see, is set largely at Travis Air Force base in California in the years when it was being used as a staging post for soldiers being shipped out to fight in Korea. But you'd need to do your own research to know this because not once during the film is the name 'Korea' mentioned. We see transport aircraft flying out fresh troops and returning with wounded soldiers but there's no mention of where these men will be fighting or getting injured. Which is kind of weird for a film designed to wave the flag and salute America's men in uniform. Released in December 1951 by Warner Brothers, STARLIFT is a very obvious effort to replicate the success of the studio's star-studded World War Two home-front morale booster "Hollywood Canteen." This 1944 crowd-pleaser told the story of two soldiers spending their last three nights of leave hanging out at the famous armed forces nightclub in LA hoping to get a date with Joan Leslie. But really it was just an excuse for Warners to trot out every star under contract, from Joan Crawford, John Garfield, and Barbara Stanwyck to Peter Lorre, Bette Davis, Sydney Greenstreet and more. STARLIFT features two Air Force soldiers hoping to meet fictional starlet Nell Wayne (a mask-like Janice Rule) and persuading a bunch of Warner Bros stars to put on a show for the departing troops. But in place of Crawford, Garfield et al the best the brothers Warner could scrape up in 1951 were Doris Day, Ruth Roman, Gordon MacRae, Virginia Mayo, Gene Nelson and Phil Harris with fleeting appearances by James Cagney, Randolph Scott, and a clearly embarrassed looking Gary Cooper. This threadbare cast, whose combined star power would struggle to illuminate a standard lamp, is perfectly matched by the crummy production values. Presumably in an effort to save money several long scenes were shot using really really bad back projection. How bad is it? You can see the join where the screen meets the floor of the soundstage! To describe STARLIFT as a sloppy, lazy and third rate movie is to do a disservice to films which are sloppy, lazy and third rate. It's just terrible. Avoid it.