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Thursday, October 02, 2014

Twentieth-Century Still In The Banking Business

Greenbriar Enters The House Of Rothschild --- Part Two

Opening night hyperbole is window to emotion this film aroused: I believe that " The House Of Rothschild" will still be showing when any other picture you can name will be but a memory. This was Motion Picture Herald reportage from the Astor, which gave further insight re crowd response: The mood of the audience was tense and receptive, punctuated at certain high-spots by explosions of spontaneous applause. Tickets had sold out well in advance of opening night; you couldn't get in sooner than three weeks ahead without resort to scalpers. A capacity 1,612 seats were filled at every show, morning to last perf. Entrants beyond available seating were permitted to stand for the 88 minute feature. B.O. insurance for Rothschild was a love story to blow dust off 19th century setting, this the preserve of Loretta Young and Robert Young. Despite boldness of Rothschild's theme, the Arliss formula of yore would not be altogether expunged, GA at sea without a youthful pair to encourage or oppose (in this case, daughter Loretta in Bob's forbidden embrace). Added vinegar was Boris Karloff as a Frankenstein's monster of anti-Semitism, Rothschild lighting up when he and Arliss tilt.

BK fans born of a monster boom don't for a most part bother with The House Of Rothschild, due to scarcity plus fact it's not their kind of Karloff movie, but infinitely more people saw this in 1934 than, say, The Black Cat, which came out the same year. I'll venture, in fact, that there wasn't a Karloff performance in whole of the 30's that got a larger audience than The House Of Rothschild. He'd have known that at the time, and rightly seen this as ticket out of typecasting, which Rothschild might have been, had further such work come Karloff's way. Unfortunately, but for sporadic instance (some Mr. Wongs, a brace of character leads in Warner B's), it was back to bogeymen for balance of the decade. Some aver Karloff to have overacted in The House Of Rothschild; I call his a flex of muscle Rothschild needed, a threat to loom more explicit than whether or not banker Arliss will float his crucial loan.

Lights --- Camera --- Three-Color Technicolor!

Rothschild roadshow as event was further settled by inclusion of a final-reel Technicolor sequence, this not limited spectrum of the old and oft-decried two-color process, but fresh application of all primary hues, plus gradations between. Till 1934 a novelty of Disney cartoons, three-strip Technicolor would now garland live actors before big studio cameras, not yet for the full length of a feature, but in show-off highlights to take breath from patrons who'd never had color so good (others among 1934 instance: The Cat and The Fiddle and Kid Millions). Technicolor chief Herbert Kalmus would recall The House Of Rothschild as "the first test of the three-component process on a very large set" (his article, Technicolor Adventures In Cinemaland, for the December 1938 Journal Of The Society Of Motion Picture Engineers). Rothschild's concluding scene did indeed take place on an enormous set, made more so by what looks to be a first-ever three-color glass shot, or hanging miniature, or matte (anyone know which?), showing expanse above the players and an outsized chandelier. An on-set photo above shows limit of the actual set's height, and a bank of intense lighting that would have been concealed by the special effect.

Technicolor rightly saw Rothschild as opportunity to sell a revitalized process to an industry and its public. Everyone is vibrant dressed, true blue an especial highlight for being attainable at last on film. Colors till then ruddy were electric via the new process, its effect so startling as to make a few critics regret Rothschild drama turning bright-lit pageant at the finale ("a veritable riot of color," said publicity). That "lit" part was Technicolor's truest challenge. It took seeming equivalent of six suns to properly illuminate that "large set" Kalmus mentioned; in fact, they'd borrow arc lamps from all over town to brighten 16,000 square feet for Rothschild's final act "Reception Hall," this according to an article by Walter Strohm for the October 1934 issue of International Photographer. Arc lamps could be noisy, a problem for sound recording on the set. Fifty-five foot candles of light had been norm for black-and-white photography. The House Of Rothschild would need two-hundred and ten (plus seventy-five technicians to man the equipment). Heat on the set, made more so by heavy costuming actors wore, became excruciating when the wave of arcs poured over them. All of principal players appeared in the color section, save Boris Karloff, whose villainous character had by then been routed. TCM's broadcast of The House Of Rothschild thankfully included the Technicolor, not necessarily a given, as earlier play on the Fox Movie Channel had been B/W and majorly disappointing to fans.

Funny thing about theatres back then --- they'd brag about how expensive tickets were, at least where the attraction was special enough. It conferred status to pay top dollar for seeing a movie early in its run, and better still to have been there for a roadshow performance. Hard-ticket wasn't for pikers and cheapskates. Patrons on so rich an outing would often as not dress formal for the event, or at the least don jacket and tie. One could assert his/her socio-economic position just by showing up for first night at, for instance, Cleveland's Ohio Theatre (left), where The House Of Rothschild commanded $1.65 for best seats. You could feed the family for days with that in 1934. The Ohio's was a "Midwest Premiere," and again the "dignity" angle was stressed. Cleveland hoi-polloi would wait for The House Of Rothschild to re-load for sub-run, several months later, at the popular-priced Loew's State (above), where coins rather than paper money bought ways in, with sugar added by Mickey Mouse and an Our Gang short. Doors opened at 10:45 and ground continuous from there. By this point, The House Of Rothschild had got its cost back and gone into profit.

Down-the-line showmen in less cultivated markets looked to carny ways for selling The House Of Rothschild, but where were hooks? UA suggested a few, like Bill Saxton in Baltimore arranging for carrier pigeons to fly invites from his theatre to the local mayor, and Maryland's governor --- Motion Picture Herald called this a first ever use of "the pigeon gag." There was serialization in Jewish dailies, comp admission to rabbis who'd spread word, and appeal to real estate and stock brokers that stopped by to advise viewers on how they could make killings in the market. From bottom of a Depression barrel, The House Of Rothschild was emerging as celebration of capitalism and hope for renewed prosperity. If the Rothschilds could stage a financial coup, why not the rest of us? Lester Pollack at the Rochester Loew's spoofed Rothschild's roadshow rep by printing up his own "hard tickets," except these touted "no advance" in price at his ticket window.

Top-Of-Page Splash In the L.A. Times --- Note Artist Depiction
Of The Technicolor Stage 

The House Of Rothschild would live on by reputation, the title evoked whenever Fox had a new show it thought comparable (even Jesse James was sold as a Rothschild successor). Some picture people regarded it an all-time #1, J. Arthur Rank years later calling Rothschild "not empty entertainment, but entertaining as well as having substance." A 6/43 booking was mentioned by Variety for being unexpected --- who'd have figured The House Of Rothschild to run at theatres in Fascist Italy, and during height of the war? Like many of features historical-themed, Rothschild would renew life in schools and play through the 50's as teaching tool, a "classroom version" at 33 minute running time prepared by the "National Council For The Social Studies" ("This classroom version of the feature photoplay highlights the importance of finance in warfare and dramatically visualizes the injustice of discrimination against minorities"). The House Of Rothschild would go also to 50's TV syndication as part of NTA's "Rocket" package, but has been overlooked since for home video. Will it eventually turn up as a Fox On-Demand DVD --- and with the color sequence? A last query: Twentieth-Century did a deluxe general release trailer for The House Of Rothschild which included footage from the Astor premiere --- anyone seen it or know present day whereabouts?

ALSO NOTE: Lou Luminick has an excellent New York Post column HERE that supplies fascinating background re TCM's showing of The House Of Rothschild, along with further info on present day attitudes regarding the film. Terrific stuff!

Wednesday, October 01, 2014

Twentieth's Rothschild Dignity Sale

Schenck/Zanuck Score Historic Hit with The House Of Rothschild (1934) --- Part One

Was there a sharper producing mind than Darryl Zanuck's? I've read his book of memos compiled by Rudy Behlmer. The man had pictures down to a science well before he left Warner to form Twentieth-Century Pictures with Joseph Schenck, the pair putting The House Of Rothschild into play for year anniversary of Twentieth. It was a bold yet solidly commercial choice, considering Zanuck had brought George Arliss over from WB, a hire the latter called talent raiding ... but wait, the Brothers let GA's contract run w/o provision for its renewal, so big fish Arliss was honestly caught. What success Warners had known with this star got dwarfed by The House Of Rothschild bringing $2.3 million in worldwide rentals (negative cost $529K), a figure to surpass all but biggest then-successes, especially in depth of Depression. For Zanuck/Schenck to achieve this, with a new and independent firm, was movieland miraculous.

They had help, of course. Powerful interests backed Twentieth-Century, among them Louis Mayer, Irving Thalberg, and Joe's brother, Nicholas Schenck (all these very silent partners). The Schencks were not unlike historic Rothschilds for looking after each other and guiding an industry via compatible business ventures. Theirs wasn't a large studio, S/Z starting with rental of space at the old Pickford/Fairbanks lot, and sharing that with a busy Samuel Goldwyn. Zanuck was intent on class product that would compete with the best anyone had to offer, a first brace out of Twentieth-Century as sure-footed as what MGM or whoever sent to theatres. In fact, it was quality of the team's first year that opened palace doors (as in Broadway's Astor Theatre) to The House Of Rothschild, where the thing ran like a house afire to precisely an audience that would appreciate it best, sophisticates, a critic community united in praise, and Gotham's cultural mix for which this show was ideally suited. Rothschild's New York success is detailed expertly by Aubrey Solomon in The Fox Film Corporation, 1915-1935: A History and Filmography, one of the best studio histories I've come across.

The House Of Rothschild has taken on recent interest thanks to TCM including it among Jewish-themed features during September. The film had otherwise turned up seldom, though it was syndicated from the 50's, another of those termed epoch-making when new, but forgot since. 1934 was, after all, eighty years ago, and exams of anti-Semitism would hit harder as decades followed. The House Of Rothschild works well as social plea and Arliss vehicle, even if he's less the whole bag than was case at Warners. Humor is not so afoot due to weightier conflicts, though George does work in asides to amuse where possible and without lessen of message. It's nice to see TCM make an event of Arliss and The House Of Rothschild, their primetime broadcast, with Robert Osborne and a studio guest, conferring status upon the rare-seen show to evoke importance it had when long-ago premiered.

Status and importance were bywords when The House Of Rothschild opened for $2.00 tops at the Astor, plus Dignity ... Always Dignity (caps mine ... and Twentieth's). This would be no occasion for "ancient, stereotyped order of ballyhoo" like staff on stilts with sandwich boards: "It is essential that wild exploitation stunts be discouraged, and the picture be exploited with dignity," said pressbook advisory. Distributing United Artists quoted the Rothschild pater familias himself, "You must walk the world with dignity," as guidance for showmen normally given to exuberance. They'd need to pull in horns for this one and let The House Of Rothschild sell itself on prestige and word-of-mouth (plus print) from opinion makers. Toward that, Twentieth scored a TIME magazine cover with Arliss in Rothschild guise, and periodicals were full of the film. "It is a picture which must be so handled that it keeps its skirts clean of any propaganda" was reflection of what worried Twentieth's team from the beginning. Would The House Of Rothschild be so pro-Jewish as to arouse anti-Semitism?

Public acclaim would assuage those fears, but the run-up was touchy. More than one periodical of the day referred to The House Of Rothschild as "Jewish propaganda," while doubters among the trade said it would choke in the heartland. Zanuck and Schenck rolled dice and won, chips placed largely on extended roadshows that would alone recoup Rothschild's cost (initial hard ticket sites included Cleveland, Boston, Utica, and Los Angeles, these set before the Astor premiere). Schenck/Zanuck's strategy again reflected action in the film, the Rothschilds having gambled their fortune on outcome of Napoleonic wars, and emerging richer for the risk. The House Of Rothschild would be the show that made Twentieth-Century Pictures, impressing banks and individual investors who'd trust Schenck/Zanuck judgment as merger with the Fox Film Corporation brought about 20th Century Fox.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Republic Tries a Whodunit

Ellery Queen Solves The Spanish Cape Mystery (1935)

Republic does  Ellery Queen, and it's darn good. Everyone thinks of that outfit in galloping or cliffhanger terms, but there were stabs at a mainstream, many turning up on Netflix and not a few of interest for those who've pigeonholed the Yates factory too long. Besides, it not as though we can see Ellery Queen elsewhere, the Columbia series with Ralph Bellamy long out of circulation. Donald Cook plays the detective as indolent observer of seaside murders, bodies piled like cordwood before he takes active interest. Cook requires getting used to, our dominant image of him the priggish brother to James Cagney in Public Enemy. Republic's 1935 release schedule saw as many modern dress actioners as westerns, their ID with the genre not yet firmly established. Helen Twelvetrees had landed there on a slope from stardom, is top-billed in The Spanish Cape Mystery. There are exteriors as the title implies, shot at Laguna according to then-trades. Cook as Ellery goes on vacation with elderly and irascible judge Berton Churchill, a head-scratcher as to what these two would have in common over a month spent at a rental cottage. Still, it's a novel set-up, and Churchill for-once sympathetic is refreshing. I was pleased with myself for guessing the killer about halfway in, though most could probably have figured it in a first ten minutes. Excellent quality on Netflix.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Paramount Punts One For 1949

Bride Of Vengeance Plays Loose With The Code and Is Fun Besides

Adjudged by most to be a stinker since 1949, Bride Of Vengeance surprised me by having much to enjoy, a game cast seemingly wise to fact they're immersed in disaster and figuring to get what fun they can out of it. Bride Of Vengeance greased skids for Mitch Leisen at Paramount, him blamed for inaction at ticket windows ("slim" in Chicago, "drab" in L.A., and so on, said Variety). But whose screwy idea was it to do a picture about the Borgias? At least Paramount wasn't alone, as 20th sent Henry King with Tyrone Power and Orson Welles to Euro-location for Prince Of Foxes the same year, Welles to essay another of the lethal family. Bride Of Vengeance was lots more economical, done seemingly whole on Para stages, and with a cast less starry than Prince's: Paulette Goddard, John Lund, MacDonald Carey. Accounts claim Goddard was so bad that Mitch gave up on her and let the actress flounder as best she could --- now me, being easy to please, found Paulette no worse here than on any other occasion, though she does seem to lack awareness that Bride Of Vengeance plays best when sent up slightly, which is where co-star John Lund excels.

Lund was supposed to freshen a postwar garden of lead men, Paramount launching him in dual role as Olivia DeHavilland's love mate, and later son, in To Each His Own, a Leisen homer that put him near rank of DeMille and Billy Wilder on the Marathon lot. Lund would have less luck than a Lancaster, or Kirk Douglas, or whatever of newcomers made the postwar grade and kept working to old age. His best known appearance was opposite Dietrich and Jean Arthur in Billy Wilder's A Foreign Affair, among that director's less noted features. If Mitchell Leisen was higher regarded, auteurists might study his four with John Lund in a way the later Douglas Sirk films featuring Rock Hudson would be parsed. As it is, Lund was quick forgot after he quit the business in 1963, and didn't come back. Mentioning Lund is worthwhile for his being so good in Bride Of Vengeance, the one of three leads who best got humor inherent in poison pellets and tons of costume.

I'd Bet Foreign Receipts for BOV Were Lots Better Than US Ones
Leisen focused, as with Frenchman's Creek, Kitty, most of his, on dressing both sets and people. His was practiced eye for what we'd look at for a feature's whole, detractors saying he let visuals matter more than story. On Bride Of Vengeance, it was for dialogue director Phyllis Seaton to unbend narrative kinks as they arose. If this seems to sell Leisen short, there's evidence of numerous of his films that were solid as to narrative and performances --- Hold Back The Dawn, aforementioned Kitty, Remember The Night, To Each His Own --- and this director was champion to composers who did some of their best work under his supervision, Hugo Friedhofer and Victor Young come particularly to mind. Leisen had nearly twenty years at Paramount, as staff and for a most part outstanding, director, which was longer there than colleagues would last, save DeMille.

Bride Of Vengeance came with economy driving at Paramount. A postwar slump was biting deep and there'd be a $1.5 million cap on budgets. You can see Bride corners being cut, though Leisen maintains high gloss even to stage walls closing in. Sets are dark and appropriately gloomy as befitting subject matter, Bride Of Vengeance a subject that fortunately didn't need opening up to tall roofs or vast exteriors. Considering it's about a family of slayers, Bride lets membership off the hook in ways that made me wonder who was awake at PCA offices. There's also strong suggestion of incest between brother/sister MacDonald Carey and Paulette Goddard, the two introduced with recap of those they've liquidated offscreen. I figured Carey at least for a grisly finish, but he retires almost cheerily from final reel defeat with every indication he'll be back to try another day, this but moments after back-spearing disloyal lieutenant Ray Burr. And what of battlefield aftermath with legs blown off and blood dripping from sleeves where arms have been dismembered? Looked to me like recap of DeMille's arena in Sign Of The Cross, on which Leisen had assisted. Was he recalling how much fun such explicit carnage could be?

Variety was kind in wake of a trade screening, with forecast of sprightly biz for Bride Of Vengeance. An Easter 1949 opening at the Paramount Theatre in New York had the old confidence brought to bear on earlier shows with lots more potential than Bride Of Vengeance. Stage/screen combos hewed to axiom that what the movie lacked could be made up with live acts to swell receipts. Paramount wanted at least a Broadway opening to brag about, even if credit for success went largely to be-bopping Charlie Barnet "And His Famous Orchestra." Swing was on ways out by '49, but Barnet stayed hot with hits with Cherokee, Caravan, and other of jive faves among the juve set. There were comics Jerry Colonna and Jack Carter ("who do not interfere with one another," said Variety's review), "crack tapster" Bunny Briggs, plus trilling Margaret Phelan, whose "standard" Man Can Be A Wonderful Thing I could not locate on web search. Anyone familiar with this tune, or Phelan? Trade applauded was brevity of the stage program --- 45 minutes --- which made for total of under three hours, maybe less, in event short subjects were jettisoned.

The Paramount's loaded bill did well, but Bride Of Vengeance tanked elsewhere, and there'd be collateral damage not only to Mitchell Leisen, but star Paulette Goddard, whose last picture for the studio this would be. Bride's ill repute kept it out of NBC's shopping cart when the network did a 60's deal for primetime run of much of the post-'49 Paramount library (Bride Of Vengeance coming just under the wire between MCA ownership and titles that would stay with Para). Television release came in 4/67 with Bride Of Vengeance among 56 features, most off-network, in a "Portfolio One" group for syndication. Paramount passed on home video, understandable considering Bride's runt of litter status. My peruse of catalogues couldn't even locate 16mm rental for the thing, Bride Of Vengeance being one hard picture to see for a lot of years. Now there is availability on Amazon Instant (free to Prime membership), along with many Paramount post-'49's previously out of circulation. There is a CD of Hugo Friedhofer's fine score for Bride Of Vengeance. It's on a combo disc with Captain Carey USA, another rich vein of Friedhofer sound. So long as Olive, Legend, Criterion, et al, are licensing Paramount titles for Blu-Ray release, I wish they'd consider Bride Of Vengeance. It deserves wider play.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

From Funnypapers To Film ...

Mutt and Jeff Are Playing With Fire in 1926 Cartoon

By what accounts I consulted, there were 300 Mutt and Jeff cartoons, of which eleven survive. Pretty pathetic, and the more distressing in light of fact M&J were a very big noise in their day, even in silent cartoons where they toplined on and off from the mid-teens to late twenties. Pioneer participant of the series Dick Huemer compared them with Peanuts of later vintage, and yes, the pair seem eternal for short/fat, tall/thin guys still referred to generically as "Mutt and Jeff." Such basic concept made creator Bud Fisher rich beyond Midas, a millionaire off his strip when a million could be made and kept. Once Mutt and Jeff came to movies, they'd not be idle. One company would do shorts a while and fold up, another in wings to take over, Fisher the broker who'd hire artists, then leave them to toil while he cashed checks.

Playing With Fire might be a cleanest sample of the Mutt/Jeff lot. Done at tail-end 1926, it fairly cries for sound still a couple years off for cartoons, and in fact, might have been kitted out with a track for later distribution, as were several other Mutt/Jeffs (animator Huemer, who worked on these, would call sound "the great savior of the animated cartoon"). Playing With Fire happily turned up at Ebay on clean-as-whistle 35mm nitrate, was grabbed by a collector, who displayed his bounty at You Tube, the treasure lovingly taken from its can and placed on a Steenbeck editor for playback. Digitally cleaned rendition is part of Thunderbean's lately released Blu-Ray, Technicolor Dreams and Black & White Nightmares, Playing With Fire a highlight for crystal clarity seldom had from 20's animation tending to survive, if at all, on raggedy terms. Great to see lost films recovered from online auction, spiffed up digitally, then made available for home playback via Blu-Ray. Thunderbean and its collector contacts are once again to be applauded for rescue of rarities and sharing them with fans. Archives could take a lesson from such fast tracking of treasures to outlying enthusiasts who can enjoy them most.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

A Once Rarest Of Karloffs Back Among Us

A Horror Star's Homecoming Yields The Ghoul (1933)

Boris Karloff UK-bound to go his Yank chillers one better, this a back-from-dead venture where he's an Egyptologist in possession of a charm said to be bridge between here and beyond. A practical problem is bedridden Boris checking out at a start, an arid Act Two denied him, then fitful resurrect as titular "Ghoul," sans dialogue. What talk there is (lots) comes courtesy a Dickensian lot led by Ernest Thesiger, Cedric Hardwicke, and Ralph Richardson, with Anthony Bushell and Dorothy Hyson as bickering romancers. The Ghoul was ambitious, its aim clearly set upon US markets, but this was early among Gaumont pics distributed stateside and had to compete besides with slicker Karloffs done by Universal. There was boomer fever to see The Ghoul thanks to mouth-watering stills Forrest Ackerman used to publish; you'd think from these it was an acme of all things horrific, but where were prints? For years, we figured The Ghoul among lost ones, and it might as well have stayed so for all of a muddy and subtitled bootleg that saw circulation on 16mm and later video. Who dreamed we'd have it finally on pristine DVD and even HD streaming on Netflix? Digital wonders never cease.

Friday, September 26, 2014

A Jukebox Musical Pours It On

Robt. Lowery Gets a Telling From Future Granny Irene Ryan in Monogram Laff-and-Tune Fest Hot Rhythm

Funny Folk and Music Enliven Hot Rhythm (1944)

A Monogram masterpiece! Lowly jingle writer Robert Lowery tries boosting crush Dona Drake to singer status, is stymied in part by dizzy Irene Ryan, who unexpectedly gets the canary spot on records/radio. All this and slapstick too ... Tim Ryan the blustery boss falling over trash cans and wife Irene (they were a performing team), then in walks Harry Langdon to tie up link with comedy's Greatest Era. Future Granny Clampett Irene was a 40's extreme on Gracie Allen; she brays, tumbles, is punishingly dense. Wish there were a hundred Irene Ryan pics I could watch. Dona Drake had been Rita Rio of an all-girl band and appearance in Soundies, those little films you'd look at as a hosting juke box played. Bob Lowery had flaked out of 20th Fox's youth program ... how many Richard Greenes did they need? ... but would secure legacy playing Batman for Columbia in a 1949 serial. Monogram built a single lush set for Hot Rhythm and confined most action to it, the affect serving OK so long as bands rotate nimbly and pace doesn't flag. Doubt if anyone at Metro lost sleep over Mono songbooks, but for second feature placement, they stood good and pleased customers with modest expectation. Langdon alone is basis for watching, of course, but band boxes budget-wrapped like Hot Rhythm are joyous for plenty beyond Harry in twilight, and Netflix has a brace of them in good quality.
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