Review #1,142: 'Tower of London' (1939)

Contrary to many an assumption, Tower of London is actually not a horror film, despite the dark and miserable English castle setting, the sight of Boris Karloff as club-footed executioner Mord, and the presence of Rowland V. Lee - a director perhaps best known for Son of Frankenstein (also released in 1939) - behind the camera. There's also the existence of Roger Corman's low-budget effort of the same name, which emphasised the horror and pushed genre legend Vincent Price (who also appears here in a smaller role) into the central role as the deformed, scheming Richard III. In fact, Lee's Tower of London is a historical drama, borrowing much from Shakespeare's Richard III but somewhat confusingly leaving out much of the detail.

Edward IV (Ian Hunter) sits comfortably on the throne of England after defeating King Henry VI (Miles Mander) and imprisoning him in the Tower of London. The feeble-minded former king wears a paper crown and lives in the hope that his son will return from exile in France to reclaim his crown. Edward enjoys combat practice with his formidable and cunning brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester (Basil Rathbone), while their soft, drunken younger brother the Duke of Clarence (Price) watches on enviously. Richard is an incredibly capable leader of men, but is way behind in the line of succession. He keeps a mini theatre hidden away where he plans to remove everybody in his way, and despite the many rivals who could challenge him for the crown, the hunchbacked prince will stop at nothing until he is seated on the throne.

Although not a horror, Tower of London certainly looks like one. The huge set created for the film became a staple of Universal, and the dark, chilling castle could be seen in many genre pieces produced by the studio in the following years. There's also a few brutal but bloodless murders, almost always involving Karloff's Mord, who is the closest thing the film has to a monster. Yet for the most part, this is more akin to Shakespeare, performed by a ridiculous wealth of acting talent. There are great turns by Hunter, Mander, Price (in only his fourth role) and Barbara O'Neil as Queen Elyzabeth, but the film belongs to Rathbone and Karloff, with the former even eclipsing Laurence Olivier's arguably hammy thesping in the 1955 film. Packing what is an incredibly complex tale into 90 minutes can confuse matters, but this is an entertaining, somewhat lighter alternative to Shakespeare's infinitely more grandiose work.


Directed by: Rowland V. Lee
Starring: Basil Rathbone, Boris Karloff, Barbara O'Neil, Ian Hunter, Vincent Price, Nan Grey, Miles Mander, Leo G. Carroll
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,131: 'Stagecoach' (1939)

Before John Ford's majestic Stagecoach was released in 1939, the western genre was festering in B-movie hell. While we can all now agree that the genre can encompass just about every sort of human experience and underlying theme imaginable, in the 1930s it had become a joke; simplistic and goofy tales of good guys in white versus bad guys in black that were little more than an excuse to deliver an action scene or two. Although he had made a staggering amount of pictures by the time he directed Stagecoach, John Ford left it relatively late in his career to become the lauded auteur he would be remembered as being when he adapted Ernest Haycox's short story The Stage to Lordsburg.

Stagecoach is special indeed. Not only did it revitalise a flailing genre, but it seems to give birth to another - something more classical, thoughtful and mythical. This is, in part, down to the casting of John Wayne as The Ringo Kid, an actor who became so synonymous with the role that he spent his entire career both embracing and running away from it. Already a veteran of around eighty movies made for 'Poverty Row', the still-young Duke was only cast after Ford stubbornly insisted on it, while the studio wanted Gary Cooper. Ford knew he would be a star, and the director certainly gives him an introduction worthy of a screen giant. As we first meet the Kid, cocking his rifle as a tracking shot brings us close to his face, it's inconceivable just how Ford was the only one to recognise his screen presence.

Yet Wayne is only one of a magnificent ensemble of characters flung together in the claustrophobic stagecoach as it heads closer towards towards hostile Indian territory. Everyone on board seems to wrestle with their own vice or prejudice, including effeminate whiskey salesman Peacock (Donald Meek), brooding Southern gambler Hatfield (John Carradine), and shifty banker Gatewood (Berton Churchill). The two largest roles go to Claire Trevor as kind-hearted prostitute Dallas and Thomas Mitchell as the alcoholic Doc Boone, the latter winning an Academy Award for his efforts as the blow-hard whose realisation of his own flaws become his redemption. The two are set on their journey after being thrown out of town by the 'Ladies' Law and Order League' - a group of busybodies who begrudge any sort of moral taint on their town - as Doc cries social prejudice.

The idea of social prejudice being rampant in a country guilty of its own recent atrocities is a key theme running throughout, and Stagecoach is a surprisingly liberal movie, despite the depiction of the screaming Apaches, who play the enemy here. We spend a lot of time with the characters before we get to climactic action sequence, but the skill in which they are drawn and played, along with the fascination of watching these shunned personas unite against a common goal, means it never feels like Ford is making us wait. The Apache attack is a high-speed work of technical brilliance, featuring stunt work so nail-biting that you won't even stop to ponder why they don't just shoot the horses. It's so memorable that you'll forgive the redundant second climax featuring the Ringo Kid's unfinished business with the Plummer gang, and the sentiment that comes with it. Arguably the finest American western ever made,


Directed by: John Ford
Starring: Claire Trevor, John Wayne, Andy Devine, Thomas Mitchell, John Carradine, Louise Platt
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,001: 'Mr. Smith Goes to Washington' (1939)

Undoubtedly one of the most beloved American films of all time, Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is one of the great directors most cynical portraits of the U.S., revealing an infestation of corruption all the way to the top of the Senate in the city where the Capitol Dome and the Lincoln Memorial sit uneasily as symbols of idealism. The film is also one of his most optimistic, and this blend of attitudes have led to many other Hollywood movies being labelled in his honour as 'Capraesque', one of the most misunderstood and overused labels in cinema.

'Capraesque' is commonly lumped upon movies with an overbearing sense of positivity, with the little man, or woman, ultimately overcoming overwhelming odds to triumph over whatever conglomerate or institution trying to stamp all over them. But what the labellers forget is the skill required to convincingly build up the struggle of the hero, making the climax all the more poignant and satisfying in the process. When Jefferson Smith (James Stewart), the small-town head of the Boy Rangers, is invited to join the U.S. Senate, he accepts the role with humility and a determination to prove himself worthy. What he doesn't know is that fellow senator Joseph Paine (Claude Rains) intends for Smith to be a stooge while he and his boss Jim Taylor (Edward Arnold) go about their dodgy business.

Initially, his "aw, shucks!" persona is met with ridicule by the press, and is seen as a naive idiot by his secretary Clarissa Saunders (Jean Arthur). However, his patriotism soon endears him to Saunders, who witnesses his peers and superiors begin to tear him to shreds as he uncovers a scheme to buy up land. As Smith, Stewart is perfect, embodying the kind of American ideals that the country prides itself upon but rarely follows, stubbornly holding court while he fights for his reputation in a riveting climax. It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is commonly labelled as Capra's finest moment but, in my humble opinion, Mr. Smith is his crowning achievement, a movie of such substance and social insight that it more than transcends its now-routine formula and reaffirms a belief in good overcoming evil.


Directed by: Frank Capra
Starring: James Stewart, Jean Arthur, Claude Rains, Edward Arnold, Guy Kibbee
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #282: 'Young Mr. Lincoln' (1939)

When young, intelligent store owner Abraham Lincoln (Henry Fonda) exchanges some groceries for a law book, he becomes infatuated by it, and decides on a different career path. He arrives in the town of Springfield and co-runs a law firm, and although his techniques are a bit rough and maverick, he becomes well-renowned and respected. After staging an Independence Day parade, a murder takes place, in which two brothers apparently attack a man and stab him to death. Enchanted by the brothers' family's simple ways, and how they remind him of his own roots, he offers to take their defence.

While in France, movie-making was pushing the boundaries and were creating films that were more works of art than movies, America was making very American films (this is not a criticism, by the way, as America created some of their best pieces of work in the late 1930's and 40's). There was no more American a film-maker than the great John Ford, who was never more at home than when he was in the mythic Wild West, a place of beauty, violence and mysticism. And what more American story can there be other than the story of how one of the greatest Presidents in their short history came to be the man he was.

Ford had already fleetingly portrayed Lincoln in The Prisoner of Shark Island (1936), showing his assassination at the beginning of the film, and then moving on to concentrate on the man accused of harbouring John Wilkes Booth. While that film portrayed the brutality that people are capable of, juxtaposed with a story of one-man's fierce determination, Young Mr. Lincoln shows the brutality of America, and how one man's fierce determination can overcome the odds and make a difference. The partially-fictionalised court case is based on the case of William 'Duff' Armstrong, a man accused of murder who was proven innocent by Lincoln, against a state that believed he was guilty.

Although Ford wisely chooses to keep the focus on Lincoln's early manhood rather than to fit in his entire life, the film is sill confined to the rules of the biopic. The film suffers by being episodic, shifting from Lincoln's early discovery of law, to his re-location, to the love interest, to the 'big event' that will define him (at this point in his life). Knowing Ford's gift for storytelling, the film is disappointingly simplistic in structure. It is however anchored by a very impressive Henry Fonda performance, whose appearance is uncanny to Lincoln, under some effective make-up. And, as you would expect, the cinematography is superb, and proves that no-one can capture America like John Ford.


Directed by: John Ford
Starring: Henry Fonda, Alice Brady, Marjorie Weaver
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #211: 'La Règle du Jeu' (1939)

The 'one of the greatest films ever made' tag is a lot for a film to carry. There seems to be two sets of these 'greatest films ever made' - the audience's films (the likes of The Shawshank Redemption (1994), The Godfather (1972), Star Wars (1977)), and the critics' films (Ozu's Tokyo Story (1953), Murnau's Sunrise (1927), Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958)). Without wanting to sound snobbish or pretentious, I do tend to lean my preference to the critics' films. Jean Renoir's truly great film belongs in the latter category, and it's one of those films that regardless of its popularity amongst cinephiles, seems to sadly get lost on a mainstream audience.

Heroic pilot Andre (Roland Toutain) touches down after a record-breaking flight to find out that the woman he loves, Christine (Nora Gregor) is not there to greet him. He is, however, greeted by his friend Octave (Jean Renoir), who, determined to cheer his friend up, arranges for Christine and her husband Robert (Marcel Dalio) to invite Andre to their lush party at their country estate. Robert knows about Christine and Andre, but is having an affair himself with Genevieve (Mila Parely), which he promises to break off. Also, Christine's maid Lisette (Paulette Dubost) finds herself more devoted to her madame than to her groundskeeper husband Schumacher (Gaston Modot), who notices her flirting with the new servant Marceau (Julien Carette).

The film was sighted as such a despicable and savage mockery of the bourgeoisie upon its release that it was hit with a ban after a public outcry. The upper classes are seen as uncaring in their actions, and relatively passive upon unearthing adultery. When Robert discovers Andre and Christine together after the former promises that it is over, the two begin a lengthy and highly comical fight. At the end, the two compliment each other on their fighting styles. It seems they fought because that was what they were supposed to do. But it seems that Renoir isn't just attacking the upper classes - the maids and servants are just as bad. Lisette repeatedly flirts with Marceau, even though she knows Schumacher will ultimately kill him, and again they seem unconcerned with the consequences of their actions. French society was rotten to the core, apparently.

Social commentary aside, the film is a technical marvel. Renoir deploys slow and creeping camerawork that looks in on its strange characters with an air of curiosity, as if an onlooker at a zoo. It's a film that every self-respecting film student will have studied (even though I found myself studying Erin fucking Brockovich (2000) at college) as it is a masterclass of mise en scene. Large rooms are full of objects, yet are noticeably empty. They surround themselves with expensive crap, and fill their country estate with people, but these people are ultimately alone and out for themselves. They are going through the motions of the game, and Renoir cleverly uses black and white tiling on the mansion floor, making the characters appear like pawns on a chess board.

It is a real shame that 99% of people I will meet in my life will never have heard of this film and will never watch it, even though it is one of the giants of cinema and is often cited as 'the greatest film ever made'. It is hilarious, poetic, beautiful, disturbing, and frustrating. It breezes by like Shakespeare mixed with slapstick comedy with some French farce thrown in for good measure. Make of that what you will.


Directed by: Jean Renoir
Starring: Nora Gregor, Paulette Dubost, Marcel Dalio, Roland Toutain, Jean Renoir, Mila Parély
Country: France

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie