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Monday, September 15, 2014

Something Sorta New In Cartoons

It's 1929, and Rudy Ising Has a Cartoon Deal For You

When Bosko Was The Freshest Talk-Ink Kid In Town

How many Disney artists in the late 20's sat at easels scheming to develop their own characters and open their own shops? Hugh Harman was planning Bosko from 1927, and registered drawings for copyright in January 1928. All this while he still drew for, and drew a paycheck from, Walt. I wonder if quieter moments found Harman noodling on Bosko, his shoulders forward and arms wrapped round drawings done on company time. Risk, of course, was Walt coming round to inspect work, both in and out of refuse cans, as was his wont where employee output was concerned. Did he have notion of what Harman was up to? Anyway, he'd get the message when HH and partner from Kansas City roots Rudy Ising signed with Charles Mintz, till-then Disney distributor with a plot of his own to purloin Oswald The Lucky (and Lifeline for Disney) Rabbit.

Harman, Ising, and a pal back from K.C., Friz Freleng, did not last long with the new Oswald set-up (all three out by spring '29), and at loose ends for employment. This was the moment to gamble on Bosko, full enough conceived by Harman-Ising to try out a demo reel for (if any) buyers. Sustaining dream of animators was a series commitment from one of established studios. Necessary from start was for Bosko to talk, mid-to-late 1929 a barren ground for silent cartoons. Formats to present animated characters were pretty limited, all the more so with unaccustomed sound. H&I tendered Rudy as a Max Fleischer-ish artist busy at task of creating Bosko, a human or animal?, black or white? riff on other folk's cartooning. The game is tipped when Bosko gives with Amos n' Andy idiom and goes into Jolson inspired Sonny Boy (a Brunswick, and later Warners-owned, tune, lifted for this occasion).

Ising at least looks prosperous in double-breasted vest with lapels. Was this his best, if not only, suit at the time? Noise on the soundtrack seems at first to be his pencil scratching on the pad, but no, it's just a scratchy track. Money for this reel had to have been got nickels at a time, as none of participants were flush, and the Crash was just around corners. Sound as practiced by outsiders like Harman and Ising was jerry-built at best, as even richest of studios were still feeling their way through voice plus picture. To Bosko and creator's credit, he does stay in sync through converse with Ising, even if recording levels differ between them (the character's dialogue was spoke just off camera at the same times as Ising's, the animation added later). Well heah I is, and I shoa feel good were immortal first words from Bosko, followed by tap dance and some whistling, then piano accompany to Sonny Boy. Bosko is nothing if not eager, even desperate, to please. Two years of hope and effort by Harman-Ising hung on luck they'd need to put him over.

They weren't really offering anything new. Sound cartoons had past being a startling novelty, and Bosko was nothing novel to look at. The fact we'd hear him blow a raspberry was no rack to hang a year's contract on. Hugh Harman carried the reel around town like a vacuum cleaner salesman to chorus of doors slamming. "You're too early" with sound was probably polite blow-off from contacts who didn't want Bosko cartoons in any event. Luck so needed came courtesy Leon Schlesinger, who already knew there was interest in animation at Warners, him dug in deep there thanks to family connection, prior dealings, and good will with Jack L. They were ready to tie in with any half-decent cartoon series he could deliver, provided price was right (as in miser-cheap), the reels to augment prolific Vitaphone Varieties from WB. The January 1930 deal with Schlesinger was for one cartoon per month, a goal Harman and Ising could meet, provided they didn't sleep much. Thus emerged Looney Tunes, and eventually Merrie Melodies. As Walt often said, It all started with a mouse, so then did Warner cartoons begin with Bosko, The Talk-Ink Kid, not so noted an event, but history withal and four minutes well worth close inspect. It's included as a bonus feature on Thunderbean's Blu-Ray release, Technicolor Dreams and Black-and-White Nightmares, from which Greenbriar hopes to visit other content over coming weeks. Much that is rare and fascinating is here.

More beginner Bosko HERE.




Sunday, September 14, 2014

Every 40's Boy Had Or Wanted One ...


Where Monogram's Hot Rod (1950) Meets The Road

Kids and their hot rods ... is there a modern equivalent? Does youth any longer care about speed, other than what's achieved w/ vid games or band width? I never souped up an engine, but this Monogram budgeter makes it look like fun. The serious issue was teens using public roads to race, it leading to many then-casualties. Hot Rod is for state-sanctioned, thus safety assured, contests on dedicated tracks, model son James Lydon (as opposed to "Jimmy" of previous work) teaming with stern judge dad Art Baker to make organized racing a reality. To this nod for social responsibility was added jalopies in fast action, doing the very things Hot Rod counsels against; in fact, producer Jerry Thomas called cast and crew back after filming to shoot more chase/race stuff as sweetener. Thomas wanted also to juice casting with former Our Gang members, telling Variety in 6/50 that he'd use them "chiefly for exploitation purposes." Thus came Tommy (Butch) Bond, but no others from the Gang. Maybe they didn't care to be exploited. 1950 was a busy year for Monogram, spokesman producer Scott R. Dunlap announcing sixteen features for release, plus six more under the Allied Artists banner, AA being Mono's upward reaching alter-ego. Hot Rod is pleasingly available from Warner Archive on remastered disc, their customary A+ job.




Saturday, September 13, 2014

Laurel and Hardy Getting Used To Sound

Laurel and Hardy Get Some On-Set Coaching For Their Spanish Language Night Owls

Stan/Babe Reach Beyond Borders with Night Owls (1930)

A 60's fan wrote retired-to-the-Oceana Stan and reported purchase of "silent" Night Owls from Blackhawk Films. Laurel's reply counseled that it was a sound comedy, and should be seen that way. Maybe he was remembering the celebration of noise this early talker was. The team knew early on that laughs were sweetened by judicious use of sound over dialogue. Hold the talk, but clang the anvil. Night Owls has burglars Stan/Babe trying at very quiet entry to target house, failure a comedic consequence of tipped garbage pails, yowling cats, and fallen vases on ways in. Set outdoors, Night Owls was actually done on Roach stages, so each noise reverberates off walls, and that makes for nice confined effect. How many yoks could you get from Babe's coat/trousers being ripped? Plenty, as evidenced here. The best Laurel/Hardy comedies were the simplest; this pair needed plot contrivance least of any clowns. Night Owls was so basic as to last career's life for the team: they were still doing the break-in routine in Brit music halls during the 50's. Night Owls was also first to add foreign-language versions, spoken phonetically by Laurel and Hardy plus revolving support players versed in respective languages, in this case Spanish and Italian. Here was a doable task for L&H, as they needed not words to convey humor,  this surprisingly in a '30 marketplace newly drunk on dialogue, once-greats of the silent era Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton having woke with hangovers after initial try at talk.




Friday, September 12, 2014

Wallis Mints Another Melodrama --- and a New Star


Dark City (1950) Noir Introduces Charlton Heston

Another fine Hal Wallis noir, and the H'wood debut of Charlton Heston. Both recommend Dark City highly, as does fact of its availability on Blu-Ray from Olive. Wallis had a postwar way with guilt and psychological themes. He said later that greed drove characters in Paramount released thrillers bearing Wallis trademark. He rode herd on every inch director William Dieterle shot, auteurism very much checked at this producer's door. Dark City turned up again in 1968 as Five Card Stud, Wallis mindful still of the good yarn it was (there are different story/screenplay credits, but it's the identical set-up). Heston was a sure screen thing, Wallis knowing he had the goods soon as the young actor walked through his door. Dark City Chuck is dynamic, his line reads just offbeat enough to stick in memory. A support cast is as able: Jack Webb a surly hood, Ed Begley drunken and doomed, Don DeFore similarly so, with Lizabeth Scott on fading side of stardom, while Viveca Lindfors channels Ingrid Bergman to startling degree. DeFore and Scott were part of Wallis stable, the latter a known, and oft-successful, starmaker. Dark City was network run on 2/11/67 by NBC, one of several Hal Wallis properties that were late premiering on TV, but made a big impression (at least on me) when they finally did.




Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Monsters Rally For Part Two


The Black Sheep Scares Up 1956 Business

There was trouble between Lugosi and Lon Chaney, going back far as Bela's resentment over Lon getting Son Of Dracula in 1943 when everyone knew (or should know) that only Bela Lugosi should play the vampire king. There's report that the conflict got physical, but my interpret is that Lon was being playful in that alarming way Lon had of being playful, especially when in cups (to wit tossing Bela over his shoulder like a sack o' taters). Anyway, the two had to be kept apart for duration of shoot. My question, though: If Lugosi was hot toward Chaney re the Dracula thing, how did feel about John Carradine, who did Daddy Drac twice for Universal in the mid-40's and was figured for that period to own the part? There was Black Sleep succor of Tor Johnson to help (sometimes literally carry) Bela on and off the set. This man was really sick. He probably shouldn't have been there at all, but BL was dedicated trouper to the end, a hero of the horrors to fanship then and now.




Aubrey Schenck and producing partner Howard W. Koch dreamed up a stunt for peaking awareness of in-progress The Black Sleep. They'd converge upon L.A.'s famed Tail O' The Cock restaurant with most of a motley cast (Rathbone notably absent --- I can hear him shouting "I'll not!" when invited). Tail O' The Cock was an eatery always filled, their specialty steak and prime rib. They were supposedly first in town to serve Margaritas. There were two locations, both closed now. Anyway, The Black Sleep's bunch convened there for a late February lunch, arriving in a hearse, photographer in tow. You'd figure Schenck or Koch to have called ahead --- to reserve a large table at least --- but who knows? Stills from the occasion show a fair crowd seated around the demonic diners. Imagine management and onlooker response to such foolery --- or maybe all were inured to dumb Hollywood publicity intruding on their lives.




A close look at faces reveal much. Tor cheerful and expectant (Steak good!), Bela glad to among people who might notice him, Chaney wondering if there's something stronger than iced tea on the menu. Carradine's at head of the table, and I'll bet he led conversation, peppered perhaps with Shakespearean quotes. To make sure of a crowd's attention, there was the shaved-head woman and scarred sailor from Black Sleep's dungeon, all by way of making sure this wouldn't be confused with an Elk Lodge meeting. Plates were empty when these stills were taken. Otherwise, we'd know what everyone was having. Lugosi's taste for Hungarian repast would likely not be accommodated here. Lon the expert at barbecuing would judge well the meat being served, and I'd figure Tor took care of whatever others left on their plates. As for Carradine, his gaunt frame did not suggest a hearty appetite. Was JC a little self-conscious at being here? He had, after all, just come off The Ten Commandments for C.B. DeMille.




Aubrey Schenck had lately been on a "Senate Juvenile Delinquency Sub-Committee" grill, lawmakers burned over "scaring people" with "too much emphasis on violence and crime" in he and Koch's latest for Bel-Air, Big House U.S.A. Retort by Schenck exposed the idle threat: "The very fact that crime is violent and brutal should be a deterrent to crime" (yes, well ... O.K.). Besides, he was too busy prepping The Black Sleep and Pharaoh's Curse to worry about it. "Scaring people," said Schenck, "is popular entertainment and can be had not only in theatres but in every amusement park and public library." Say, maybe it was time to start cleaning up all that mayhem in school books and redirect youth toward uplift of Schenck/Koch pictures. Might The Black Sleep be rescue from baleful influence of parks and libraries? By Schenck's reckoning, could be ...


Lon, John, and Bela Make a Frisco Meal of Tor


June 1956 Opening in L.A.
The "Zombie Pix" team pulled stops for Black Sleep openings. There'd be cast members in person at Frisco, Portland, and finally L.A., all during June '56. Gag photos were abundant, Chaney, Carradine, and Lugosi making apparent meal of Tor's bald noggin ... all in fun, and catnip to press cameras. Incidents on tour became legend. We'll never know if Lugosi stepped upon a window ledge in belief he could "fly," or if Tor dangled Bela there to teach his elderly pal a lesson (seems unlikely, considering real affection TJ had for BL). Bela biographer Arthur Lennig doubts veracity of such accounts, and frankly so do I. But they make fun stories, and fair game for most outside Lugosi worship. By Hollywood's bow on 6/27 (eighteen venues), there was Tor and by-for-a-buck Vampira, shill for this and subsequent Bel-Airs, to appear with The Black Sleep (she'd briefly double as boxoffice cashier to hypo ticket sales). Even Bela made the scene courtesy teens tending him --- well, it beat hauling BL to the deli again or getting his shoes soled, customary errands to which the boys were dispatched. Also opening that self-same Wednesday, at twelve theatre/drive-ins, was the '56 bring-back of King Kong. And oh, Frankenstein and Dracula revived at two locations. Otherwise, there'd be no genre competition that week in L.A. for The Black Sleep and its companion, The Creeping Unknown, let alone anything new or first-run. Could this account for sock business the combo did at these and other summer stands?




Teenage Visitor To The Set Gets a Shock
Variety was predicting a hot season for scares, twenty pics ready to go or in the hopper. All were low on budget but rich in exploitation spending. Radio, TV, and dailies got much of funds saved from production, all aware that horror sold best by spreading word among impressionable young with itch to dispose of allowance or lawn-cut money. Schenck/Koch figured to put $20,000 in circulation, "Barnum style," as Aubrey phrased it, "the largest (ad budget) in Bel-Air history." Some of kale went to wax figures (life size!) of Black Sleep cast that would tour with the film (today's burning question: might they still exist?). Composer Les Baxter jazzed up a theme written from his score and called it "The Black Sleep Mambo." Fly in ointment, which came in November after most cash had been grabbed, was real-life shock of a nine-year-old boy who died of heart failure while watching a Chicago parlay of The Black Sleep and The Creeping Unknown. Outrage came quick with expected call for ban of all chillers. The Cook County coroner wanted double-featured horror stopped, and toward purifying end, sent subpoenas to hapless management of the offending Lake Theatre. The incident briefly bestirred trades, but like previous Chicago attempts at censorship, came to little.




Schenck/Koch were overall satisfied enough with The Black Sleep to step up thrill production, Voodoo Island and Pharaoh's Curse a next parlay from Bel-Air. Theatrical encore for The Black Sleep would come in 1963, via independent Cari Releasing Corp., a distributor that was also handling initial US theatrical dates for Orson Welles' Mr. Arkadin. Cari would amend The Black Sleep's title to Dr. Cadman's Secret, tandem billing the 1956 chiller with Silent Death, formerly Voodoo Island. Forrest Ackerman gave Cadman an eight-page boost in Monster World #1, published autumn 1964, this a mere exercise in frustration for ones of us whose close-by theatres would not book the combo. Close perusal of TV schedules might have afforded relief however, as The Black Sleep had been playing the tube since 1959, visibility renewed by its 1963 packaging with UA, Warner, and RKO evergreens in a 60 title "Science- Fiction/Horror/Monsters" group for syndication. The Black Sleep would be object of longing for collectors, pleas to owning United Artists gone unanswered until "On-Demand" DVD brought forth a full-frame transfer from old elements, hardly a best way to revisit a monster rally many hold dear, but better than nothing that preceded its disc release.




RKO's Answer To The Marx Bros.?


Wheeler and Woolsey Make Love and War in Cracked Nuts (1931)

Wheeler and Woolsey make merry for RKO. Their comedies were nicely profitable for a company otherwise hip-deep in red ink (Nuts saw $150K in profit). A first act parts the boys, a joining delayed until Bert arrives to the mythical kingdom Bob has won in a dice throw. Romantic interest in these was always for Wheeler, it being too hard to imagine Woolsey in a clinch. Habitual femme partner Dorothy Lee is a pin-up girl for old movie freakdom, and for good reason, her appeal not a whit dated and she's got enough "It" to put others in shade. Verbal ying-yang W&W engage anticipates Abbott/Costello, but minus machine-gunning of words the later team would master. Not all jokes work, but name a comic(s) to have escaped that law of averages. It's enough that Wheeler/Woolsey are in there pitching, not afraid to go offbeat places, and dispensing enough Depression idiom to fill a glossary on same. Sideliners peak interest, one being immediate pre-Frankenstein Boris Karloff as articulate double-dealer. If owner (from 1959) UA-TV had syndicated W&W as a feature group (there's a bushel of them), we'd have more boomer fans to carry banners. As it is, the pics were spread too thin among packages to make deep-as-deserving impression. Only now are they getting together, courtesy Warner Archive, to win converts to the blue-ribbon farcing pair. Several DVD sets are available, all recommended.




Tuesday, September 09, 2014

Everybody Who Was Ever Scary Is In It!


Greenbriar Deep In The Black Sleep (1956) --- Part One

BS May Have Been No Classic, But Stills Fot It Certainly Were
I believe there's more scholarship on The Black Sleep than for any picture released in 1956, including The Ten Commandments. It's nobody's favorite horror film, though better than most will acknowledge. BS was gothic when most of the genre was spacemen and bugs. Old-time faces were combined for a sort of pre-Mad, Mad World of chilling. Each could be had for comparative change, Basil Rathbone a sort-of exception for getting $10-15,000 to star, but even that was a bargain when you factor value of his name. Others of the group, according to recall of producing Aubrey Schenck, drew down from a thousand (Lon Chaney) to measly hundreds (poor Bela). Accounts here do vary, however. Lugosi's wife, Hope, said he got a grand, and since she was the one managing rent and groceries, I'd call her account most reliable. What does any of this matter after fifty-eight years? Nothing perhaps, but fact it does matter, a great deal, to those of us who'd choose The Black Sleep's set as Destination One in event of time travel becoming reality.

Best Since Dracula and Frankenstein? According to Anecdotes,
 A Lot of 1956 Kids Thought So

First, an acknowledgement of source from which data flows. 90% of what's out there on The Black Sleep --- interviews, research as in boots-on-ground --- is work of Tom Weaver, who dug into detail of the film's production years ago when many of participants were still among us (virtually all gone now). He is the reason we know so much of The Black Sleep, so be assured that everything here is merely Greenbriar's read on what Weaver wrote. And incidentally, he has a new book out in a few weeks, the definitive history of all three Creature (as in Lagoon) features made by Universal-International in the 50's. This will be answer to prayers of sci-fi fandom and all those who revere the Gill Man, a most hotly anticipated 2014 publishing event (The Creature Chronicles: Exploring The Black Lagoon Trilogy, available from Amazon).

Tor, Carradine, and Herb Rudley Chill Out Between Takes

Back to The Black Sleep. There is so much, maybe too much I'd say about The Black Sleep. At what point does one's enthusiasm for a topic outrun everyone else's interest, or patience? And so I guess Greenbriar is an only place I can Sleep sound, and dream of what took place for those couple or three weeks during which the show was shot, and what circumstance brought a fabled cast to say Boo in underpaid unison (that last is the fan in me talking --- I'd have been for giving Rathbone, Lugosi, Chaney, Carradine, even Tor Johnson, a million each --- of Aubrey Schenck's money). Most, I'd suppose, were grateful for the work. They all seemed to have shown up, in any event --- but what more invitations went out, and to whom? Was Karloff approached? You'd think he'd have been first. Peter Lorre had his chance, but said no. A "billing dispute," according to Variety (1/23/56). Lorre was to have had the Akim Tamiroff role. A pity we lost him, as Tamiroff was an only white sheep among a black flock, his resume notably shy of horrific content.

I'd Visit The Louvre If They Had This Framed and Six-Sheet Size On The Wall

Trades also reported Lesley Selander being replaced by director Reginald LeBorg. Were we poorer for the switch? From what I've seen of respective work, may-be. Selander was better at tempo, and could uplift weak material, but belief at the time was that LeBorg had higher pedigree for chilling (his many for Universal during the 40's). Or maybe it was just money. For all I know, Selander wanted $100 more to direct The Black Sleep, and that queered him. The film was shot at rented facility (Ziv, where TV magic was made with Highway Patrol and etcetera). The last Mrs. Lugosi visited the set and reported it a dump, but she would say that because Hope seemed to have little hope for humanity, let alone any of Bela's ventures (what a dark cloud this woman was upon BL's last horizon). LIFE magazine actually sent a photographer to cover The Black Sleep shoot during February of 1956 (they must have intended to do a magazine feature on the film --- did that transpire?). The LIFE visit yielded oodles of great art and backstage glimpses. Everyone is caught candid, looking tired, maybe a little resigned. No, this wasn't MGM, but by 1956, even MGM wasn't MGM anymore.


A great and unheralded thing about The Black Sleep was stills they took ... I mean beyond the LIFE captures. Wonderful, moody portraits of all the cast, plus group posing to better evoke a haunted house than for any chiller I've seen advertised from that period. Others say The Black Sleep was like a 40's Universal, Columbia, or Monogram mad doctor operation being performed again. It is an old-fashioned yarn, done by middle-age men who remembered scares of yore. Writing seems peeled off blueprint Sleep's cast had consulted before, by Lugosi especially. He'd complain of "big cheese" Rathbone now playing the lead that would have gone Bela-way a decade before --- before Lugosi went into voluntary rehab for drug addiction, that is. Could he have possibly carried Basil's bags (and lots of dialogue) in these last months of life? (Lugosi died in 8/56) What we'd all like in hindsight is opportunity for him to at least try, but how realistic is that? People were spending real money to finish The Black Sleep on schedule, and that money was, after all, short.


Presenting Lugosi with a Leather-Bound Copy of Black Sleep's Script
Basil Rathbone found Ziv a slumming address in any case. He'd been the merry prankster on We're No Angels the previous year, according to its ingĂ©nue Gloria Talbott, but that was Paramount and Technicolor and company of Humphrey Bogart as star, with Michael Curtiz directing. Basil was affable for pride in being there, We're No Angels an inarguable "A," just as was his last before The Black Sleep, which was The Court Jester with Danny Kaye. Co-player Herbert Rudley said Rathbone kept to himself through The Black Sleep. Maybe I'd have done the same under similar humbling circumstance. Rathbone did reach out to Bela Lugosi, who was, of course, worse off than Basil's darkest hours before, or to come. A little poem BR sent BL, to effect that we can't change what's past, but must look to a better future, was meant to boost a beaten man, but you wonder how proud Bela took the gesture. Did he figure big cheese Basil to be patronizing him? Oh, to have been an observer on that set, and all the human drama it afforded.




Monday, September 08, 2014

Putting On Gloves For A Night At The Movies


When Boxing Sold The Show

"Good" fights were seen by a few, read about by millions more. You could sometimes hear them on radio, less frequently view action on TV, especially the big matches, where live ticket sales mattered most. Priority was natural put on seeing punches land, and so came post-match boxing films to show us what sport reporters described blow-by-blow. Who knows but what our interpretation of action might be different from theirs? Projected footage, sometimes in slow motion, brought combat closer after all. "Better Than Ringside" was no empty claim: these greater-then-live-size gladiators were better observed from theatre rows than back-of-stadium with jack-in-box spectators constantly rising to block view. Besides, the outcome was by now old news, money from matches duly made and bets paid off. Revenue from fight films was gravy, and got from seemingly every gauge, 8, 16, and 35mm.


Home movie sellers counted glove action among top sellers. Men's smokers and fraternal orgs ran such reels to ribbons, then sent them on to brother clubs. Lots bought home projection just so they could screen pugilists. When footage was freshest, it stood high on marquees, very often above the feature. "Theatre TV" floated live broadcasts from early in the 50's (as in the ad at right when Loew's Midlands in Kansas City featured Sugar Ray Robinson vs. Carmen Basilio live on 9/23/57), and there would be closed-circuit matches during the 60's. All the while, however, came heavyweight clashes rushed to audiences while ink from ring reportage was still wet, and note how movies on view are dwarfed in these ads. The Fox Capitol tendered Anchors Aweigh and Barefoot Battalion as afterthought to Marciano vs. Cockell, though Anchors Aweigh was admittedly a ten-years-oldie by this 1955 date where it played as a reissue (highlights of the 5/16/55 match, probably the same stuff Capitol patronage saw, is on You Tube). The Fox Crest put Marciano/Cockell over Kiss Me Deadly for selling purpose, as would the Senator after Marciano met Archie Moore on 9/21/55. Were these proofs that sports trumped movies for a public's willingness to come in and spend?


UPDATE: 1:07 PM: Scott MacGillivray sent the above poster image for a 3-D boxing short, along with some fascinating info ...

Hi, John -- If I remember the 1953 trades correctly, UA had planned to release the Joe Louis-Jersey Joe Walcott fight as a full-length 3-D feature. This had to be revisited when the fight lasted only two minutes and 25 seconds. The picture ultimately came out as a two-reel short, padded out with slow-motion replays. (The referee was accused of counting Walcott out too quickly, so I guess UA jumped on this to let the movie audience review the action.)
grbrpix@aol.com
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