Best Liberty Show a Quarter Bought in 1966

 

You Don't Need the Title to Signify What This Art Represents, Which is Why I Don't Include It.

Among the One Hundred: The Professionals

Where it comes to first capturing favorites, timing is all. I came to The Professionals, rather it came to me, at age twelve on verge of thirteen. Story, setting, stars, never better aligned. I’d not hope to be James Bond, but could right circumstance of adulthood see me as variant at least on Lee Marvin? He as role model grew far back as M-Squad watched since five and kindergarten. Marvin toplines these professionals more than Burt Lancaster despite latter’s top billing, Lee’s “Henry Rico Fardan” most experienced and intellectually equipped to the mission, this confirmed by “J.W. Grant” (Ralph Bellamy) who cites Fardan completion at VMI and service to follow at San Juan Hill. If ever a man was “tempered like steel” in 1966-67, it was Lee Marvin. He’d do three in succession to dazzle boys of tender age, The Professionals, The Dirty Dozen, then Point Blank. Fact these would be ideal, if final ideal platforms for Marvin, went unrealized at the time … who knew bitter tea to brew by Sergeant Ryker, Hell in the Pacific (looked promising, so why would the Liberty not play it?), final insult of Paint Your Wagon, affront to all so far invested in Marvin and co-star Clint Eastwood. Pity passing of days when others chose for leading men, at least had a voice in selections, an advantage gone with Classic Era wind. As much applied re Lancaster, my first growth of beard likelier to arrive before he’d worthily follow-up The Professionals (1968’s The Scalphunters promising on posters, then as now a letdown). Lancaster’s 60’s output in retrospect seems a willful withhold of satisfaction that could have gone hand-in-hand with The Professionals, this to show how hard it would have been for anything to meet, let alone surpass, standard set here. What better for young or older men to aspire to than Burt Lancaster at age fifty-two scaling up a sheer rock wall on a rope, doubtless in sweltering heat? I don't know a male not profoundly impressed for having seen that.

Whatever to Do With Weaponry, Henry Rico Fardan Knows It, So Of Course We Wanted to Be Him 

Much about their mission seems fishy (retrieving a kidnap), but these are not men to care. There are four (Marvin, Lancaster, Robert Ryan, Woody Strode) dispatched by one (Bellamy, millionaire husband of abducted wife). Bellamy will pay each $10K for her return, entrusting the foursome with one hundred thousand in gold for ransom. Lancaster being all about money and getting what of it he can makes us wonder in hindsight why the ransom itself wasn’t in play, at least by him. The Professionals refreshes for its simplicity, a surprise by the cynical sixties. The Code was being ushered out with nudity and salty language on the increase, The Professionals teasing with both. Politics peep in though gringos here sell their guns rather than imperialist notions. Robert Mitchum in 1956’s Bandido similarly focused on main prize that was cash for arms he’d supply. Lee Marvin’s Fardan begins The Professionals as weapons dealer for faceless munitions manufacturing, but nothing is made of this past point of him so employed and how much it pays ($35 per week). We will learn later that Fardan lived previously in Mexico, took a wife there, and worked with/for identified-as-abductor Jesus Raza (Jack Palance). Lancaster as “Bill Dalworth” observes part way into the mission that revolutions resolve to “the good guys against the bad guys” and wonders who in the long run are the good guys, a line that made me go whoops at first seeing The Professionals and wondering if we were headed for a preachment. Would the quartet we recognize as men of individual action for profit take sides like Gary Cooper ultimately did in Vera Cruz (1954)? That was always a temptation where oppression and revolt issues were aired, result too often fun let out of tires once heroes got impulse to be too heroic.

I Knew Marvin Better Than Lancaster in 1966, So Naturally Chose Him to Identify With.

We see automobiles put to practical use in The Professionals and several years later The Wild Bunch. They were in fuller abundance for Bandido which filmed near 100% on Mexican locations. Time set for all these was 1916-17, midst of civil war in the country that lasted more/less, on-off for ten years (1910-1920). This being complicated meant movies dealt most with specific aspects or personalities involved (Villa, Madero, Zapata) or used the background for novel spin upon westerns, autos plus other modernities to link them closer with life we knew. Why do men answer a dangerous calling if not for selfish gain? Fact they’ve done so previous, if often, assures they will be seasoned, wised up enough to stay clear of causes. None of our four appear to have criminal histories. If they’ve been militarily trained, it is not emphasized, though we assume from Fardan’s background and mode of dress that he’s spent considerable time in uniform. To strike across the desert for a stolen wife seems beneath such a crew. We sense there is plenty they are unaware of. Such a team seems better suited to a Kwai or Navarone sort of operation, but this was the mid-sixties, where to fulfill a patriotic obligation seems naïve for men wised-up as these. Soon enough to movies would come doubt as to value of even World War Two engagements. Convicted murderers work wiles upon worse butchers that are the German command in The Dirty Dozen, Lee Marvin appropriately leading them. All are in it for amnesty, provided they survive. Kelly’s “heroes” sneak across enemy lines to steal Nazi gold, personal goals a priority over Allied need. The concept off-put me enough to skip the movie when it was released in 1970.

MAD Magazine Often Flattered It's Readership With "Smartie-Pants" Verbiage Like Above

The Professionals refreshes for its humor, a “twist” end I still don’t fully get, and pleasing fact all four of principals get to live, in fact no one of the cast dies save faceless fall downs among banditry and bystanders innocent or not. To unsettle is Raza executing one after another of surrendered Federales, shock imagery checkmated by The Wild Bunch three years later. MAD magazine took a cleaver to The Professionals, page samples to show mixed results pretty much as I remember from the time. Do people much go back and read old MAD’s? I liked it in a sort-of way, though choice of where to dispose of thirty-five cents saw Castle of Frankenstein the winner rather than MAD. The Professionals would be overshadowed by the Sergio Leone westerns out of Italy and yes, The Wild Bunch. Others of US origin, save True Grit and Butch Cassidy, took back seats and stayed in them, Grit and Butch to better please a mainstream by not rocking genre boats though seeming to with off-casting (John Wayne) and/or all-in-fun revisionism (raindrops and bicycles). The Liberty tickled me pink for bringing The Professionals back one 1970 Saturday, 1975 sojourn to USC brightened when a 35mm print of The Professionals along with The Happy Ending (Richard Brooks salute) played to hard back cinema student seating. Whatever got it done. Imagine watching two such disparate features back-to-back that the same guy directed. Very scope The Professionals played CBS February 1973 primetime and died there (no letterbox). Eventually got a 16mm scope/IB Tech from a collector so dedicated to The Professionals that he blew up frames from every single shot to 8X10. Hundreds of stills fuzzy as the narrow-gauge image itself. And here I was figuring to be deep in the life. A nice Blu-Ray is out there, 4K too if you’re prepared to give Netflix $27 per month for privilege to watch. An out-of-print CD of the Maurice Jarre score goes for plenty more than when first issued in 1992. How many like me could whistle every theme without missing a note, and often do?

Lightning Sketches #1

 

Quick-Draw J. Stuart Blackton Demonstrates His Art

Speedy and Shorter and Welcome, AI

Pioneer filmmaker J. Stuart Blackton got a start in vaudeville doing what was called “lightning sketches,” artist and easel on stage to astonish watchers by how fast he could draw. Stuart sped so at the game that he took up cartooning, which made switch to movies a cinch. This was pre-teens when everything in that business amounted to history being made. Lightning sketching is sort of what Greenbriar proposes here, a cousin to quickie cartooning before, and a way to jam more topics into posts under these new umbrellas. First off I confess to willing enslavement by AI, that innovation arrived at artistic place no longer to be ignored or dismissed. We’ve lived so long with black-and-white images to shun whatever proposes to assume its place. AI is not “colorization” to my eyes, being instead a reality we knew was there, at least once there, and now comes recapture. Yes, it feels to me like standing in front of those theatres. I tend to take years embracing new technology, having ignored VHS except for novelty or last-resort, like when Captain Blood showed up complete on cassette in 1986, a first time ever we could enjoy 119 minutes rather than 99. Still there was no giving up 16mm for the rest … until the rest became DVD and death of analog, the Night Film Ended as recalled previous at Greenbriar. I’m giddy each time I color convert an image till now monochrome. Think of AI as ideal way lobby cards looked where artfully tinted from the twenties forward. We’ve now passed that to a highest point knowable, not by way of process slowly got at, but gratification had instant, push-button the door to paradise. Do I somehow settle for less, joining philistines who would wreck our culture? If so, consider me and mine wrecked, and welcome to AI arrived at apex.

I'll Never Regard a Black-and-White Marquee Online Again, Now That I Can "Fix It"

Latest from Lubitsch --- This was news alright, the second teaming of Maurice Chevalier with director Ernst Lubitsch. The Smiling Lieutenant was made particularly for an urban carriage trade. They wanted what mid-staters did not, so money had to come from bookings in the largest and perceived most sophisticated bergs. How to best and quickest get it was answered by roadshowing, twice daily shows at advanced prices. Here was asking a lot in May 1931, Depression teeth sunk in and admissions far harder come by. The Criterion bespoke home for the best, generally from Paramount, Wings having landed there for 63 weeks, The Love Parade soon after which suggested hard ticket possibilities for Chevalier-Lubitsch output. Two dollars was price for the ducats. To stand outside and regard a lavishly decorated front would alone have been worth that to me. The Smiling Lieutenant stayed fourteen weeks at the Criterion, a throughout-the-summer hit (An American Tragedy would follow with a late August opening). The Criterion seated 900, “a relatively intimate size,” said trade observers, especially by palaces up Broadway like the Loew’s State that could accommodate 3,000+. We could wonder how much negative cost was earned back for this single engagement, not forgetting theatre overhead always aspect of such an event.

World Mad and Maddest --- Greenbriar talked about It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World  way way way back in May 2010. The column drew fifty-two comments, a record I believe to that time. Clearly this was a film passionately liked. Clear too was fact any book devoted to it would be met by mobs, at least what mob survives sixty-three years after the Cinerama show was released and sixteen annums past all those comments at GPS. This may well be sixties sentiment folks feel deepest for and are most eager to learn more about. From what I’m hearing of James Curtis’ new book, Comedy Is a Grim Business: The Making of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, there are lots in wait for this telling and all are devoted beyond feeling most could have for any movie so long past. Author Curtis as expected reveals facts and data unknown to myself and likely oceans of others. He explores the background of producer-director Stanley Kramer (fascinating in itself), also of writers William and Tania Rose (I never knew they were behind Genevieve and so many of the Ealing comedies, but there it is, and Curtis covers all in fascinating detail). And how he explores horde of comedians in front of the camera … let’s just say we hardly knew them ... till now. So many personalities and so deftly examined. You don’t have to like the movie to love this book. So who were two cast members to cast longest reach of awe among colleagues? Spencer Tracy and Buster Keaton. They’d have been my picks as well, and here’s the thing, James Curtis has written definitive bios of both. He tends to outdo himself each time out of the gate, this occasion per always rousing result. Go get it, plus Criterion's Mad Blu-Ray, or streaming, whatever media will enrich the experience of learning all, all, all about It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.

Depth But Barely Dreamed Of --- My Blu-Ray of the 3-D Money From Home arrived a few days early, so here's rave all round for this summit of 3-D Archive artistry. Masterminds Bob Furmanek, Greg Kintz, and Jack Theakston have done it again, and that says plenty considering fabulous work they’ve done on previous depth releases. Let me go ahead and declare it: Money From Home is the best 3-D restoration I have so far seen, the expert triumvirate having spent several years to get things right, and with Paramount’s full cooperation, they sure did. Jack says in an extra that elements they used filled a room. Remember this was three-strip Technicolor which meant three strips of everything at 100 minute total, plus 3-D meaning multiple miles more of film to finesse. If not for this team, who on earth could have had enough patience, let alone expertise, to get such massive work done? I ducked Money From Home all these years thinking someday maybe it’ll show up on 3-D, grateful now for the wait as here’s an M&L to rank among favorite of theirs. Color also is astounding, Paramount truly on visual parade. We are privileged by receipt of Money From Home in 3-D considering a distinct minority of patrons saw it that way in 1953-54, that story told in 2014 at Greenbriar. Be sure also to consult the 3-D Archive's extensive production history of Money From Home here.

A Book Filled with Revelation, Typical of William M. Drew.

Final Straw --- There ought be a book by that title, when and what was moment when stars or others of movie hire got their fill and pushed away from the buffet for good. One that notably did was Billie Dove, at exotic left, who excelled doing Blondie of the Follies, then found herself dealt out by editing and service (at Billie’s expense) to first-billed star that was Marion Davies. Billie said “I’ve had mine” and quit movies cold. She tells that story and plenty more in William M. Drew’s At the Center of the Frame, a dazzling compendium of chats the author had with leading ladies of the twenties and thirties, published in 1999. Festooned with arresting stills, this volume and Drew’s companion book, Speaking of Silents, also made up of star interviews, are must-haves for anyone curious as to great female leads of past times and what became of them. Talks are detailed enough to get the essence of these personalities and depths they plumbed looking back. They’ll not be more books like Drew’s because there are no veterans left to testify so forcefully as here. I’m just thankful Drew went the mile(s) to get it all down when he did and present the lot in print.

Blood and Sand By Coincidence? No, Anthony Slide Did the Blu-Ray's Audio Commentary, and It's Excellent

THE SILENT PICTURE --- Another who blazed history’s trail and still doing same was/is Anthony Slide, who edited/published “The Silent Picture,” a Brit publication from the late sixties/early seventies that lasted nineteen issues and had, among other things, breathtaking sit-downs with stars not approached by others, at least not successfully, but Slide always had a way with folk not so accessible to plain press and curiosity seekers. I had a pile of past issues gotten at shows but lately figured to fill in missing ones via eBay, thus recent grab of one where Slide spoke with Bebe Daniels for what had to be her final interview, husband Ben Lyon also present and commenting. I really like how “The Silent Picture” had ongoing commentary on attitudes toward silent film and the struggle to make audiences appreciate the era again. To think these were published while I was still in high school, Anthony Slide to this day active as ever and frequently showing up to audio-commentate for silent movies released on Blu-Ray. Nobody knows this stuff like him.

Unknown To Me Till You Tube Host Jake Reed Dredged It Up ... Bravo to Him!

BLANCHE IS BACK and YOU TUBE HAS HER --- Never mind treks to museums and archives. I’m for sitting home and letting YT discoveries wash over me, especially where talkless favorites Blanche Sweet and Bebe Daniels venture into sound and such rarities unseen by me turn up on exemplary quality formats free for the viewing. Are we sailing upon digital magic carpets or what? YT provider Jake Reed lately added Blanche in The Woman Racket to his upload inventory, and it’s a 1930 creampuff, done by MGM, in fact Sweet’s first with dialogue, her a better Ruth Chatterton than Ruth Chatterton for my money. What a shame silent stars were being bum-rushed out sound stage doors, for Sweet had the goods as ever, age (34) setting stage for character work to come, but where to shine with so little studio opportunity tendered? She’d go east and do legit (in, among things, The Petrified Forest), then television, finally becoming senior spokeswoman for age of innocence few were left to tell of and yes, she spoke extensively with Anthony Slide and William M. Drew.

Seen This is Your Life, Bebe Daniels on You Tube? It's a Treat

Bebe Does Song --- I toot my grateful horn not for archives that hoard, but for home archivists that share, like the Vitaphone Sound Project, whose work of late has been astonishing. They uploaded last week a 1930 musical from Radio Pictures called Love Comes Along, starring Bebe Daniels, Lloyd Hughes, and Montague Love. All Talk, All Music says the lobby card, as would others through avalanche of tunes till the format ran dry in 1931. Love Comes Along was of sort that might slither to surface on AMC back in eighties day, a likely source for the video cassette from which the Vitaphone Sound Project derived their online version. I did not expect such quality going in --- how could anything off ancient VHS look good still? --- here my mea culpa, because this transfer is astounding for what Vitaphone was able to coax from on-its-face unpromising material. Let’s just say (once again) that miracles are being wrought at home by preservationists who take it upon themselves to discover and then uproot one rare title after another. Remember in May of this year when I pearl-dived at You Tube? Well, there’s been oceans of oysters since, Love Comes Along just one more in a seeming endless parade of pearls. Dispatch yourself quick to Vitaphone’s content page and be amazed at what they’ve come up with so far. Such creators as these make every morning Christmas for classic gatherers.

UPDATE: 8/13/2026: Being drunk still on AI and its impact on vintage marquees, I revisited a couple of columns and waved wand over stills stalled by black-and-white now rendered full color and what a difference it makes. See Mutiny on the Bounty Meets Day at the Races in 1950 and Time Travel to 1938. 

Precode Picks #10

 

No Such Scene in the Picture We Have Access To, But We Can Dream, Can't We?

Precode: Cagney with Blondell, Welcome to Hollywood, and Have a (Hard) Seat

BLONDE CRAZY (1931) --- The first starring James Cagney after a quartet with him in support or unexpected lead (Public Enemy a surprise for Jim and employers). He was difficult from a start, demanding more money he knew he was worth, falling out also with the William Morris agency which he felt didn’t do enough for commissions they extracted. This was a star not afraid of courtrooms and immune to threats, which JL Warner issued regularly to no effect. Cagney said he’d as soon return home and enter agricultural college, or maybe study medicine, and yes, he was serious. We could all want to be James Cagney’s kind of movie star, spit in mogul eyes and make them like it. Being indispensable, which he was right off a start button, was advantage peers did not enjoy, like for instance Bogart, who’d do a lot of crawling before he’d walk, supporting Cagney in numerous incidents, plus Robinson, Raft, Bette Davis, even Priscilla Lane. Blonde Crazy was frisky Jim up to tricks skirting law, outright breaking same in fact, which even though this was precode, had to have consequence. Thing is, no one enjoyed seeing Jim in jail, Blonde Crazy bit of a downer at departure, though it’s implied Joan Blondell will wait for him (won't be for so long), saving goodies well worth the time. Here was a team almost twins, same colorings, sassy mouths, as though sprung from a shared cradle. She was five two, him five five, so were two-of-a-kind side-by-side. Both were for adlibbing and made with tricks they knew a public increasingly liked, till Jim’s wife told him to slow down the spasms, which he did (like Hitchcock, Cagney got much advise at home). He was brave to play Mama’s boy and even crybaby where same suited drama. Blonde Blondell tells him constantly what a spoiled little kid he is. Most male leads would not have dared stuff Jim regularly engaged.

Splitting Spoils Three Ways (They Think), But At Least One Has Other Ideas

Blonde Crazy has him as dervish of a bellhop selling hootch and rolling craps, Jim’s “Bert Harris” like everybody ignoring Prohibition and figuring the rest of us concurred, so long as we didn’t mind jail time or small town censure. Lots took umbridge at law so blithely ignored, clash of attitudes in part responsible for stricter enforcement of the Code. Bert keeps a scrapbook of favorite shady schemes and wants to imitate perpetrators, he and Joan little crooks feeding off bigger crooks like Louis Calhern, who makes the mistake of underestimating them. Blonde Crazy is raggedy but written well and under eighty minutes, still on training wheels typical of 1931 as opposed to later, even by a year, and thereby slicker, WB precodes. For repeated views and thus forewarned, I switch off seven of so minutes ahead of the end because I don’t like seeing Jim brought to book. Drat long arms of law says us who like precode for its letting crimes go unpunished. Cagney cites "Age of Chiselry" as he outlines scams he’ll play upon suckers, them already rich and underserving of it, or more dishonest than him which makes his fraud look fun, and I wonder if young folk didn’t learn from Cagney, then go to do likewise. Was he recognized by parents early on as a bad influence? This worried Jim too, who thought his stuff not only monotonous but unwholesome, a big reason why he rebelled against sort Blonde Crazy and too many others were. He made up for a life of movie crime by seeking class and culture offscreen, photographed among his books and art, learning to play piano and right away composing for it. Jim was quintessence of don’t-do-like-I-do in films, do instead like me at subdued and scholarly home. Seeking intellectual company got him in quicksand, for some of these were Red recruiters that saw Jim for a prize get. J.L. called him a Commie dupe and warned his star off bad company, a lesson Cagney had to learn maturing for himself. Best pal Robert Montgomery supplied corrective in that respect. Blonde Crazy shows up at TCM looking pretty good if not pristine like later Cagneys, and streams in HD at Amazon.

HO HUM, ANOTHER BORING BUSINESS LUNCH --- Let’s say you’re Bebe Daniels in the latter stage of life (the early 70’s), and you're among guests with varied interests and topics to discuss. Someone mentions Admiral Byrd and what he achieved decades before in the Antarctic. You then say casually I had lunch with him once, and the table goes silent. You, Bebe, have the floor. They want more, but what more is there? That meal in 1931 was merely part of work at Warners, your presence likely as not required. Being Bebe and on the job a crushing sixteen hours most days, what time did you have to follow Adm. Byrd or any other notable outside of movies? Note you’re standing close by Darryl Zanuck, him who might give your next good part, your left arm locked with George Arliss, as prestige a name as there is amidst your circle. Then there is Jack Barrymore. He needn’t fly over the Arctic circle to be top dog here, or anywhere. Unless you kept up closely with news of exploration, Byrd was just another VIP you were obliged to be nice to. Let us then flip the coin and say you’re him. Being far off where there was no movies nor news of stars ... who are these people with whom you now break bread? Barrymore yes, a more than meaningful name to almost anybody, but Arliss? You were shipboard and headed south before GA had his first talking American hit on film. Unless you were a stage hound and saw him perform during a US tour, chances are Arliss was a mere abstraction, just another defined in terms of celebrity, and you’ve sat through meals with plenty of those since coming off the ice.  Byrd plus Warner stars, any star, constantly met celebrities outside respective wheelhouses. What may we suppose Richard Barthelmess discussed with Albert Einstein, or Marion Davies stood beside Charles Lindbergh? They who served at behest of bosses … too busy perhaps to realize august company they’d be thrown amidst. Provided she gave an honest answer, Bebe’s likely as not would be, Oh, I don’t remember much about Byrd. It was so long ago, and we barely spoke. 

You Got to Be Pretty Hardcore at Home, and Have Plenty of Jack, to Rig Up An Outfit Like This

LAPS OF LUXURY? --- Imagine precode patronage in theatre seating like above. Did even the King of Persia have sits so soft? Audiences in the 30’s took hard backs and liked them. The Liberty offered Iron Maidens and we’d not complain. The Winston Theatre, home of 2001, introduced “Rocking Chair Comfort” in the late sixties and who imagined such extravagance being real? It might even have made up for bad pictures being shown. Now we get recliners, “cuddle couches,” even beds from which to watch in theatres. Greensboro’s Janus hippie house had ratty sofas and bean bags to host Last Tango in Paris and Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein, latter in head-splitting 3-D, distinctly not for proposed “VIP” onlookers our modern luxuries aim at. Now a rocker/recliner, if not altogether lay-back, is but a least all expect, theatres more short-term motels than mere place to watch a movie. Surely there are somnambulists not easily awakened when time comes to clear auditoria. Home theatre is much to blame. What we construct in living rooms is way in front of anything paid cinemas can deliver. Could this in part be why they push IMAX so hard? Could be movies played loud is to keep folks from nodding off. Trade ad shown from 1933 seems to promise anything but comfort, “chairs” they call them, and for all of cushioning, these might better suit visitor’s day at the state penitentiary. Point is that audiences did not expect what we loudly do today, them content with any place to rest weary feet. Depression dwellers got not elegant furnishings in most spots they’d visit, common areas in movie palaces coming closest perhaps, thousand or more seats from which to view more functional than plush. Part of reason, among many, for my not going to current shows is no Lazy-Boy waiting for me with a pillow to prop my head like at home, plus a clearer picture like at home, better sound like at home, better popcorn like at … point hopefully made.