NORTH BY NORTHWEST (Warner Home Video) — Funny, I thought the last DVD release of this Alfred Hitchcock gem was definitive, with an excellent hour-long documentary hosted by its leading lady, Eva Marie Saint, and a commentary track by its articulate screenwriter, Ernest Lehman. How lucky for us that Warner Home Video decided that the movie’s 50th anniversary warranted the investment of returning to the VistaVision Technicolor master elements (which hadn’t been touched for years) to create a new high-definition copy. Until you see it with your own eyes you might not believe the difference, but this transfer is incredibly sharp and rich, with colors that pop off the screen.

As for bonus features, producer-director Gary Leva has created two new documentaries in which five contemporary filmmakers discuss North by Northwest: screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie (The Usual Suspects) and directors Francis Lawrence (I Am Legend), William Friedkin (The French Connection, The Exorcist), Curtis Hanson (L.A. Confidential, In Her Shoes) and Guillermo Del Toro (Hellboy, Pan’s Labyrinth). Knowing how passionate and eloquent they are about the filmmaking process, I expected to enjoy the remarks of Hanson, Del Toro, and Friedkin, and I did; they are world-class cinéastes who really know their stuff. I was pleasantly surprised by McQuarrie and Lawrence, whose work I must admit I don’t admire quite as much; they have grown in my estimation because they contribute such cogent and original thoughts about Hitchcock and his mastery of storytelling. It’s a pleasure to listen to all five men expound about the director and North by Northwest in particular, and the two pieces don’t really overlap.

I’m not crazy about the prospect of continually replacing DVDs I already own, but Warner has made it worth our while for this terrific film.

THE THREE STOOGES COLLECTION, VOL. 7 – 1952-1954 (Sony Home Entertainment) — As a longtime 3-D aficionado, my two favorite shots from the “golden age” of stereoscopic moviemaking (that is to say, 1953) have always been the paddle-ball man in House of Wax and the mad doctor (Phil Van Zandt) who extends a hyper-long hypodermic needle toward the camera in The Three Stooges’ short Spooks. By constructing an absurdly long prop needle, and holding it in place long enough for our eyes to focus on it—unlike other objects that fly by—this simple gag tops many more ambitious moments in major studio feature films of the period. I’ve seen it on screen a number of times but I never dreamt I’d be able to experience it at home. Now, in this 7th volume of Sony’s definitive Stooges collection—each film beautifully remastered and presented in chronological order—it’s happened. I don’t think any Stoogephile would nominate either Spooks or Pardon My Backfire for a list of all time best Stooge comedies, but the novelty of their 3-D staging is undeniable. Wearing the red-green glasses that come with the new DVD set isn’t especially comfortable, and it takes time for one’s eyes to fully adjust...but to my amazement, the 3-D process really works! There is depth to the images and separation of the planes of actors and set-pieces—like the mad doctor’s laboratory table, which stands out prominently in the foreground of a repeated shot. With producer-director Jules White and screenwriter Felix Adler missing no opportunity to hurl objects at the camera, these shorts provide just what they did more than half a century ago: a fun experience. I just wish the films themselves were better; even as a kid I couldn’t believe that White didn’t retake the finale of Spooks after the cream pies miss their targets!

THE ROBERT BENCHLEY MINIATURES COLLECTION (Warner Archive) — Robert Benchley is one of my lifelong heroes. I first read his hilarious essays as an assignment for a humor project in junior high school English class. (I can’t imagine that happening today, although the thought of life without Benchley or his compatriot James Thurber is pretty sad.) Then I read about his work in Hollywood, and set out to find these elusive short subjects. I never dreamed I would ever get to see—let alone own copies of—all of his MGM shorts, but now, thanks to Warner Home Video’s DVD-on-demand service, I’ve fulfilled that long-time quest.

For many years, these films were almost impossible to find. The Museum of Modern Art has long circulated a copy of his classic Movietone short The Sex Life of the Polyp (1928), which I’ve played for my students at USC with salutary results. You can find it and The Treasurer’s Report on the Benchley DVD from Kino Video; they are the highpoints of that collection. The rest are from his sojourn at Paramount, where he made decidedly inferior shorts from 1940 to 1942. Naturally, these are the ones that have been most readily available over the decades. (Years ago, when Peter Benchley, Robert’s grandson and the author of Jaws, was a student at Harvard, some classmates thought they would surprise him by screening some of these celebrated shorts...but no one laughed, including Peter. He later recalled it as a supremely embarrassing experience. If only they’d been able to show How to Sleep or A Night at the Movies!)

When I was an avid 16mm collector I would occasionally stumble onto a stray MGM print, but in general the pickings were slim. With the advent of Turner Classic Movies the entire run was now available, but only if you were lucky enough to tune in at just the right time. Other individual shorts were hand-picked to accompany vintage feature films on Warner Home Video releases.

But now—at last—we can savor all of Benchley’s work for MGM, where his very first effort, How to Sleep, earned an Academy Award. As with any short-subject series it’s best to watch these in small doses as there is inevitably a degree of repetition...except, of course, if you’re a Benchley diehard like me and find yourself smiling, or laughing out loud, at his every move and utterance. Of course, not every short he made is a gem; some are only mildly amusing, and there is an occasional misfire. But his proud, fumbling, hapless everyman is a wonderfully endearing character, and his double-talk lectures are supremely funny. (He paraphrased two of his classics at MGM: The Treasurer’s Report was worked into the baseball short Opening Day, while The Sex Life of the Polyp became The Courtship of the Newt.)

It may seem incongruous that a writer for The New Yorker and a celebrated member of New York’s literati became popular with a mass moviegoing audience, but that just shows the universality of Benchley’s humor. He was anything but an elitist.

Incidentally, before he became ensconced as the host of The Daily Show, Jon Stewart wrote a terrific book of humorous essays called Naked Pictures of Famous People. I was impressed by his wit, the variety of styles he adopted, and his wide-ranging subject matter, and during a chance meeting I asked who his heroes were in this field. He rattled off a long list of names—and one of them was Robert Benchley.

This 3-disc set is available exclusively from Warner Archive.

THE SAMUEL FULLER COLLECTION - (Sony/The Film Foundation)

There has never been a filmmaker quite like Sam Fuller: as director Curtis Hanson remarks in one of the interviews on this DVD set, he constituted his own genre. Fuller’s staccato, slap-in-the-face melodramas, war stories and genre pieces all bore his unique voice. As it happens only two of the films on this 7-disc set are bona fide Fuller productions, The Crimson Kimono (1959) and Underworld U.S.A. (1961). They may not be his best films but they’re significant contributions to his catalogue: Kimono deals with racial identity, friendship forged in war, and a part of Los Angeles that even some natives might not be familiar with, Little Tokyo. (It also has a lurid hook that didn’t hurt in promoting the picture: it opens with a buxom blond stripper being shot down in the middle of a busy street.) Underworld U.S.A. puts a personal slant on the story of a criminal career: a boy sees his father slain in a back alley, and spends the rest of his life propelled by revenge.

Martin Scorsese is a particular fan of this film. In his on-camera introduction he says, “Some say that he was always a pulp artist, but at this point in his career...everything extraneous [in his pictures] was cut away. They were blunt and direct and forceful. It’s the style of the film that you really remember. I mean, almost every shot hit you like a punch.

“I think it has to do with the composition, the camera movement, but also, the rhythm of the cutting—a kind of jarring kind of cutting—and basic elemental nature of the story, because the character played by Cliff Robertson [is] defined by his vengeance. It’s behind every move he makes and Fuller was always jarring the viewers to attention with clashes of images, sounds, emotions... There are so many images and cuts and gestures of the actors and moves from this particular film that have stayed with me over the years and affected my own movies.”

The DVD set also covers two earlier phases of Fuller’s career as a screenwriter, offering three B movies and two later films that executed his stories with flair, if not Fuller’s own distinct visual approach (Shockproof, with Cornel Wilde, directed by Douglas Sirk, and Scandal Sheet, based on Fuller’s novel The Dark Page, directed by Phil Karlson, with Broderick Crawford and John Derek.)

Fay Wray and Richard Dix in It Happened in Hollywood

In many ways the discoveries in this collection are the oldest, and least significant films, a trio of Columbia Pictures programmers. It Happened in Hollywood (1937) is a good-hearted story about a silent-film cowboy hero (Richard Dix) whose career fades during the sound era...but when a boy who’s always been a loyal fan shows up in Hollywood, Dix feels obliged to put up a good front. Fuller shared writing credit with four others on this simple yarn, including the redoubtable Myles Connolly (Frank Capra’s close friend and colleague), but anyone who might be tempted to write it off as trivial should remember that years later, in his heyday, Fuller cast cowboy star Tim McCoy in a small part in Run of the Arrow. I once asked him why and he told me that McCoy had been a boyhood hero of his.

Adventure in Sahara (1938), with a story by Fuller and a screenplay by Maxwell Shane,is a standard-issue Foreign Legion tale that runs just under one hour. It is a model of simplicity and efficiency in storytelling. Director D. Ross Lederman is no one’s idea of an auteur, but he handles this road-company Beau Geste with vigor and panache. While Paul Kelly is a capable hero, it’s character actor C. Henry Gordon who stands out as a despicable desert despot. I had a lot of fun watching this one.

Power of the Press (1943) is more interesting for its ambition than its execution. Again, Fuller gets story credit, while Robert D. Andrews wrote the screenplay. On the surface this is a formulaic piece about a small-town newspaperman (Guy Kibbee) who comes to the big city and takes over a major daily from its corrupt editor. It’s the specifics that add interest: that editor and his publisher are isolationists, in the midst of World War Two, who provoke the public with rabble-rousing (and often unsubstantiated) stories designed to fuel their personal influence...and profits. Villainy is in the capable hands of actors like Otto Kruger and Victor Jory, while newspaper-movie veteran Lee Tracy plays a much-too-malleable managing editor...but the film suffers from B-movie superficiality and too much speechifying by Kibbee. Still, the concept of unpatriotic power brokers stirring public foment for their private gain is pretty compelling. I’m glad I had a chance to see this.

Fuller never forgot, or forsook, his experience working on a newspaper, and it informs much of his work. Other observations about the filmmaker by his wife Christa, his daughter Samantha, and such friends and admirers as Wim Wenders, Tim Robbins, Scorsese and Hanson are provided in an interesting 25-minute documentary (as well as specific introductions to selected films) in this collection. The movies have all been nicely restored, making this DVD set a worthwhile addition to any film library.

THE JOE McDOAKES COLLECTION (Warner Archive) — I never dreamed this would happen: a six-disc set collecting the entire Joe McDoakes series! (Or perhaps I should say oeuvre.) For the uninitiated, I should explain that these ten-minute shorts, made between 1942 and 1956, were a snappy blend of slapstick and situation comedy featuring George O’Hanlon (later famous as the voice of George Jetson) as an ordinary guy who always wound up “behind the 8-ball.” I first documented the series in my book The Great Movie Shorts, many years ago, and had a devil of a time tracking down prints. They weren’t shown on television, and while some were available in 16mm, finding them was hit-and-miss. I actually traveled to Washington, D.C. to screen some of them on a Steenbeck editing machine. I never knew if I’d have a chance to see some of them again.

Writer-director Richard L. Bare concocted the first entry as a student project at USC, and wound up selling it to Warner Bros. for a tidy profit. Then Warners commissioned more and he moved to the Burbank lot for the next decade, turning out these comedies with rare efficiency, often shooting more than one at a time to make optimal use of sets, wardrobe, and supporting casts. (No wonder the studio later tapped him to direct episodes of its first filmed TV shows.)

The humor in the McDoakes series is not what one would call subtle. In fact, they revel in sheer silliness. Many are based on old burlesque routines like “Pay the two dollars” (So You Think You’re Not Guilty) and rely on familiar gags and concepts. But O’Hanlon’s enthusiastic portrayal of an all-American dope, slick production values, Bare’s filmmaking savvy, and the presence of a parade of wonderful character actors and starlets make them fun to watch. In early entries you’ll see Frank (“Yesssss?”) Nelson, Fred Kelsey, Douglas Fowley, Fred Clark and a young Cleo Moore; later on, Fritz Feld, Iris Adrian, Arthur Q. Bryan, and Joi Lansing. Joe’s wife was played first by Warner ingenue Jane Harker, then the pert Phyllis Coates, and finally Jane Frazee, best known as a B-musical leading lady but here demonstrating considerable comedic know-how.

I would not recommend watching all 63 entries in a row, or even in large gulps. Screening these shorts back to back reveals their economies and repetition, which theater audiences wouldn’t have recognized seeing them months apart. And, of course, some entries are better than others. But there are definite gems here, like So You Want to be a Detective, a truly ingenious parody of The Big Sleep and Lady in the Lake, filmed with a first-person camera and making great use of narrator Art Gilmore. So You Want to Want to Be Pretty, So You Want to Play the Piano, and So You Want to Go to a Nightclub are among my other favorites: clever shorts that pack a lot into just ten minutes’ time.

I am thrilled that the Warner Archive Collection is dipping into its vast short-subject library and making these films available at long last. Next up: Robert Benchley! For more information, go to the Warner Archive website.

William Castle Film Collection (13 Frightened Girls / 13 Ghosts / Homicidal / Strait-Jacket / The Old Dark House / Mr. Sardonicus / The Tingler / Zotz!) (Sony)

Leonard’s write-up on the just-released William Castle Film Collection is featured on the Journal page. Click here.

SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS DIAMOND EDITION (Walt Disney Home Entertainment) — I find as I get older I appreciate Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs more and more. Part of this is intellectual; I marvel at what Walt Disney and his team of artists accomplished, with no one to guide them into uncharted territory except Walt’s amazing instincts for what would work. But a lot of it is emotional; I find myself disarmed by the purity, simplicity, and sheer joyfulness of the film. It actually brings me to tears.

When this landmark animated feature was first released on home video, the Disney team went overboard in sprucing it up for a modern audience, removing all evidence that it had been shot on film and pumping up the color values to an absurd degree. I’m happy to report that this new restoration—which I explored both on Blu-ray and standard DVD—is superb. They have removed telltale signs of wear and tear on the 72-year-old negative without being intrusive or excessive. It still feels like a motion picture, and it looks flawless. What’s more, the image has been “windowboxed” within the frame so no action will be lost at the edges of the screen. (On Blu-ray the film appears in its proper 1:33 ratio, while on DVD it plays wider unless you adjust the image on your TV set.)

Bonus features include a number of family-oriented games and music videos. For film buffs the main attraction is a new commentary track featuring Walt Disney himself, taken mostly from interview recordings made in the 1950s. To hear Walt talk at such length about various aspects of this groundbreaking enterprise is genuinely exciting. His remarks are bracketed by thoughtful observations from animation historian John Canemaker, who articulates many of the film’s qualities and gives credit where credit is due. The Blu-ray version features a high-tech visual essay about the Hyperion Studio where Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was made. Such contemporary figures in Disney animation as John Musker, Ron Clements, Eric Goldberg, and Andrew Stanton are integrated into vintage black and white photographs, then come alive to explain the various departments at the facility and how they worked. Their introductions are then amplified by audio interviews with Disney staffers from the period, including directors David Hand and Wilfred Jackson and a number of animators.

Another feature has Disney producer Don Hahn introducing a storyboard sequence for what appears to be a “sequel” to Snow White, most likely a short subject that would have made use of two sequences Walt was forced to cut from the finished feature film. This material has only recently been unearthed at Disney’s Animation Research Library and it’s fun to see what might have been. Other featurettes, prepared for an earlier release of the film on video, trace the studio’s history and the casting of voices for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

In answer to the inevitable collector’s question, “Should I buy this new edition even if I already have a copy of the film?” My answer is a resounding YES. The restored picture and sound and the Walt Disney commentary are well worth the price.

THAT HAMILTON WOMAN (Criterion Collection) — I remember this movie being good, but I have to admit that I may have underrated it. What’s more, the commentary track and interview material on the new Criterion release add immeasurably to one’s enjoyment of the film and understanding of its place in history. As a piece of entertainment, it is exemplary, showcasing two great stars—who were still newlyweds at the time of the film’s release—at the height of their beauty and skill. Vivien Leigh (by this time a star to American audiences, following her portrayal of Scarlett O’Hara) is marvelous as the young courtesan who becomes a skillful manipulator—and a passionate lover. Laurence Olivier (having made his mark in Hollywood as Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights) plays a man much older than himself, whose military sense of correctness melts under the gaze of Lady Hamilton. When they are together on screen they are so strikingly beautiful they just might take your breath away. As an example of historical drama, it’s pretty good, and just accurate enough to provide a sense of world events and personalities at a crucial time in the history of England and Europe. Finally, as a timely and significant piece of propaganda in the early days of World War II, before the United States was involved, it is absolutely fascinating.

Film historian Ian Christie offers an outstanding commentary track that not only traces the background of this production, but thoroughly explores its historical bona fides, separating fact from fiction. A video interview with Michael Korda, the fabled literary lion whose father, Vincent, served as art director on the film and whose uncle, Alexander, produced and directed it, is utterly fascinating. Korda, who charted his family’s story in the book Charmed Lives, is a great raconteur who paints a vivid picture of his family and the events that led to this film’s production—not in England, but in Hollywood. That remains one of the enduring curiosities of That Hamilton Woman, that such a quintessentially British movie was made in its entirety in California. The cast is completely British, including such longtime Hollywood residents as Alan Mowbray, who gives a witty and unusually subtle performance as Leigh’s husband Lord Hamilton.

Vincent Korda’s sets are opulent, almost beyond description, although both Christie and Korda insist that the film was made quickly and economically. One could never tell from looking at it! True, there isn’t a single exterior shot in the film, but it’s an exemplar of Hollywood studio filmmaking at its zenith, including the elaborate naval battle that climaxes the story, done entirely with miniatures in a tank. (Michael Korda remembers the fun of playing with these not-so-tiny boats when he was seven-and-a-half-years old.)

The disc also includes the original trailer and a promotional radio show from the period, while the accompanying booklet features a newly written essay on the film by Molly Haskell. Needless to say, the film itself looks beautiful—almost as beautiful as its two shining stars.

SITA SINGS THE BLUES — I must confess I am very late in joining the parade of fans that filmmaker Nina Paley has attracted with her charming animated film. I just purchased a DVD from her website, where you can also download the feature and even purchase Sita merchandise. I wanted to support the independent filmmaker, who has taken to giving away her movie to protest copyright laws that have stymied her use of vintage recordings on its soundtrack. (This is all part of a complicated back story that you can read about online.) I don’t completely agree with Paley when it comes to copyright issues, but I do know how much I enjoyed her original and disarming film. Sita Sings the Blues is an autobiographical story of an American animator whose husband moves to India for work, then eventually sends her a Dear Jane e-mail. Paley parallels her own experience with the ancient Indian saga known as the Ramayana, about a goddess named Sita who is separated from her Lord and husband. The story is narrated by three contemporary—and irreverent—Indian commentators, depicted onscreen as shadow puppets, who serve as our links from the present to the past. Virtually a one-woman show, Paley created the rich, stylish design of the picture and its clever, well-timed animation, along with a witty script. On the soundtrack the plight of Nina—and Sita—is chronicled through a series of wonderful pop tunes sung by 1920s vocalist Annette Hanshaw. By no rule of logic should all of this merge together so well, but it does, and that’s the magic of Sita Sings the Blues. It’s truly one-of-a-kind.

WAGON MASTER (Warner Home Video)— One of John Ford’s personal favorites among his films, Wagon Master (1950) is a film of modest ambition and enormous charm. It afforded the director an opportunity to showcase two of his “discoveries,” wrangler-turned-actor Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr., the son of his old friend and colleague from silent-film days. They are perfectly cast (in tailor-made roles) as carefree young men who are persuaded to help a wagon train of Mormons make their way to their new homestead. All the emblematic ingredients of a Ford Western are here, from the majestic scenery of Moab, Utah to spirited scenes of folk-dancing. Four of Stan Jones’ evocative songs are beautifully sung on the soundtrack by the Sons of the Pioneers, while Richard Hageman’s score extends those themes and makes fine use of other Americana. The cast is full of familiar Ford faces like Ward Bond, Jane Darwell, Hank Worden, Russell Simpson, and the director’s brother Francis Ford, along with such newcomers as Kathleen O’Malley and young James Arness.

The real treat for film buffs who already know the picture—aside from having such a beautiful copy as this—is a commentary track featuring director Peter Bogdanovich and Harry Carey, Jr., the last of the Ford players here to tell the tale. Bogdanovich aptly describes the director’s work here as silent picture-making (every shot—without calling attention to itself—is perfectly framed, and wonderfully descriptive, a credit to veteran cameraman Bert Glennon), and shares generous excerpts from his audio interview with Ford from 1966. Carey has vivid memories of making this film and gives us a wonderful sense of being there, whether recalling one of his costars or complaining that “Uncle Jack” placed his hat on his head for one scene in a way that made him feel like the Village Idiot—but one dared not touch an article of clothing that the boss had arranged to his liking.

What a wonderful opportunity to revisit this lovely film in the company of two men who knew Ford and revel in every moment of the picture.

THE PANIC IS ON (Shanachie) — It’s sobering to look back at the Great Depression of the 1930s and see parallels to problems we’re facing today. This excellent compilation illuminates that period with precious newsreel and actuality footage, some of it quite rare and presented “raw.” From a Zuni Indian criticizing the white man’s excesses to a Detroit march for “cash relief” there is much food for thought here, as well as amusing sidelights involving entertainers like Fanny Brice, The Boswell Sisters, and Jimmy Durante. Excerpts from such seminal documentaries as The Plow that Broke the Plains and The Power and the Land offer views of the country’s great challenges, while great TV shows from the 1950s like The Jazz Age and Life in the Thirties provide perspective.

The DVD is accompanied by an illustrated booklet featuring letters, thoughts, and essays from the period, and a music CD including such timely songs as “The Panic is On” by Hezekiah Jenkins, “If I Ever Get a Job Again” by Dick Robertson and his Orchestra, “NRA Blues” by Bill Cox, “The Clouds Will Soon Roll By” by Eddy Duchin and his Orchestra, “Headin’ for Better Times” by Ted Lewis and his Band, “The Great Dust Storm” by Woody Guthrie, and “Starvation Blues” by Eddie Cantor.

We have producers Joe Lauro, Sherwin Dunner and Richard Nevins to thank for this excellent compilation of film, music and historical commentary. I like to think I know a bit about this period and I was mesmerized; its potential as a teaching tool is enormous.

ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES (Universal) — Fans of the escapist adventures of the 1940s Maria Montez and Jon Hall favor Arabian Nights, which also features Sabu, or the very campy Cobra Woman, but this straightforward presentation of the Ali Baba story isn’t bad at all—just a bit prosaic. What makes it worth watching, especially on the new DVD release from Universal, is the mouth-watering use of Technicolor. Every aspect of the film, from its sets, costumes and pageantry to the sheer physical beauty of its stars, is breathtaking.

It’s also interesting to revisit a “boys’ adventure” yarn like this and realize that when audiences were transported to Bagdad in the 1940s—and for decades afterward—it was little more than a name, representing an exotic locale for the tales of Arabian Nights. How times have changed!

A diehard old-movie buff can also derive pleasure in watching the international smorgasbord of actors who fill the classic roles: Maria Montez from the Dominican Republic, California’s own Jon Hall, Viennese-born Turhan Bey, Polish character actor Kurt Katch as Genghis Khan, Sicilian Frank Puglia as the wily Prince Kassim, Fortunio Bonanova from Spain as Old Baba, and the pride of Flagstaff, Arizona, Andy Devine, as Abdullah. I’ll take this multicultural silliness over Transformers any time.

FATS WALLER: THIS JOINT IS JUMPIN’ (Screen Edge/MVD Visual) — I was happy to revisit this vintage British television documentary, one of several such pieces reissued on DVD by MVD Visual. It incorporates every piece of Fats Waller footage extant (all of his Soundies plus his appearances in the feature films Hooray for Love, King of Burlesque, and Stormy Weather) along with lively commentary by his son Maurice, who has an endless supply of anecdotes and observations, Jean Hutson (widow of Waller’s songwriting collaborator Andy Razaf), fellow musicians and admirers Eddie Barefield and Marshall Royal, and pianist Sammy Price, who demonstrates the art of stride piano. They provide a colorful, sometimes intimate portrait of the high-living pianist and entertainer who died much too young in 1943 just shy of his 40th birthday. If you’re already a Fats Waller aficionado you won’t learn anything new or startling, but you’ll certainly have a good time.

CLEOPATRA 75th ANNIVERSARY EDITION (Universal) — Cecil B. DeMille’s incredibly lavish production of Cleopatra has never looked as good as it does on this beautiful DVD, mastered from the UCLA Film and Television Archive’s 35mm restoration. If you already have Universal’s Cecil B. DeMille Collection (released in 2006) you have the same transfer, which shows off Victor Milner’s cinematography, Travis Banton’s sexy costumes, and Hans Dreier and Roland Anderson’s elaborate sets to full advantage.

The bonus features on this disc include a brief review of DeMille’s career, including an interview with his granddaughter Cecilia DeMille Presley, an overview of pre-Code movies that also appears on the studio’s Pre-Code Hollywood Collection, and a superficial if celebratory look at the career of Claudette Colbert that has some good observations by such film experts as Richard Jewell and Patricia King Hanson but is disappointingly light on film clips. (It also repeats the story about Colbert only being shot from one side—a tale refuted in a viewing of Torch Singer, which appears in the Pre-Code set.)

The best reason to acquire, or rent, this DVD is to listen to F.X. Feeney’s perceptive remarks on the commentary track. Feeney rattles off the kind of background information you expect, but more importantly he makes cogent, original observations about DeMille’s staging, the actors’ performances, and how the screenplay strikes a middle ground between the Cleopatras dramatized by Shakespeare and Shaw.

PRE-CODE HOLLYWOOD COLLECTION (Universal) — Cheers to Universal for releasing six rarely-seen Paramount titles of the 1930s that haven’t been on home video before, in exquisite transfers from the original negatives. In years past I’ve seen most of these in museum or archive showings, often in 16mm, and they’ve never looked so good.

Not one of these titles could be called a classic, but each one has qualities that make it notable, or at least worth a look, and every film earns its “notorious” pre-Code status to some degree. Merrily We Go to Hell (1932) is a romantic drama that doesn’t amount to much but it’s got a dilly of an opening sequence, in a miniature rendering of Manhattan’s rooftops, and strong, sincere performances by Sylvia Sidney and Fredric March. Search for Beauty (1934) is the silliest of the bunch, with Buster Crabbe and Ida Lupino (in her bleach-blonde starlet period) as Olympic athletes who are exploited by scheming Robert Armstrong and his partner-in-crime James Gleason. (I hadn’t seen this film in thirty-five years but I’ve always remembered one dialogue exchange between Armstrong and cynical girlfriend Gertrude Michael. Fired up with a new cockeyed get-rich-quick scheme, Armstrong enthuses, “What’s the most sought-after thing in the country today?” Michael replies drily, “A medium-priced giraffe.”) The movie also features the “30 Winners in the International Beauty Contest, Chosen from England, Scotland, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Canada and The United States.”

Murder at the Vanities (1934) is a murder mystery set backstage at Earl Carroll’s Vanities. It’s a fascinating curio and one of those few pre-Code movies one might actually call smutty. Why, it’s got everything the Code was established to wipe off the screen: near-nudity, street slang (“nuts to you”), sexual innuendo, a song called “Sweet Marijuana” and a production number with the unfortunate title “The Rape of the Rhapsody.” The staging of those numbers by Larry Ceballos and Leroy Prinz is eye-popping, both in its creativity (a bevy of chorines lying supine on the stage, brandishing ostrich-feather fans, is made to simulate waves on the ocean) and in its leering of female flesh. The cast is led by Jack Oakie, Victor McLaglen, romantic leads Carl Brisson (who introduces “Cocktails for Two”) and Kitty Carlisle, and such supporting favorites as Gertrude Michael, Jessie Ralph, Toby Wing, Gail Patrick, and Dorothy Stickney. Duke Ellington and his Orchestra show up for one number, dressed in white tie and tails, and there’s a lovely featured spot for one of my all-time favorite character men, Charles Middleton (Ming the Merciless) as—of all things—a ham actor. Director Mitchell Leisen even gives himself a cameo as the show’s conductor in the orchestra pit.

Torch Singer (1933) is a lavishly-mounted soap opera with Claudette Colbert having a child out of wedlock, giving it up for adoption, then leaving that life behind as she becomes a scandalous nightclub chanteuse. Colbert’s singing voice is passable but makes it clear why she didn’t star in musicals, though she “sells” the movie’s keynote song, “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Love” by Leo Robin and Ralph Rainger. (Rainger even turns up on camera as a pianist in one scene.)

Hot Saturday (1932) was a favorite of William K. Everson’s, and I first saw it ages ago when he screened it at the New School in Manhattan. It’s a modest film but awfully interesting on several counts: the winsome Nancy Carroll, whose career was on the downturn, is surrounded by two young leading men who were just beginning theirs, Cary Grant and Randolph Scott. (Carroll even takes second billing to newcomer Grant.) The supporting cast is well-chosen and features Edward Woods, Lilian Bond, William Collier, Sr., Jane Darwell, and my old favorite Grady Sutton. It was shot largely on location, in an unnamed small town just like the one it depicts, and at beautiful Lake Arrowhead. The film’s underscore is a virtual medley of tunes from that year’s Paramount musicals One Hour With You and Love Me Tonight, and there’s a catchy new song, “Burning For You,” by Sam Coslow and Arthur Johnston that isn’t cited in the credits and wasn’t even published. Best of all, the screenplay by the estimable Seton I. Miller (adapted by Josephine Lovett and Joseph Moncure March from a novel by Harvey Fergusson) captures the best and (mostly) worst aspects of small-town life, particularly the notion that everybody knows everybody else’s business. The reliable and underrated William Seiter maintains a light touch throughout this likable film.

The only one I haven’t had time to screen yet is the one I’ve never seen, the 1931 talkie remake of The Cheat starring Tallulah Bankhead. I hope to screen it soon and update this review. In the meantime, I encourage anyone who loves old movies to check out this well-priced DVD set. Incidentally, the cleverest bonus feature of the set is a reproduction of the actual 1934 Production Code manifesto. I wonder how many people have ever actually read it through?

PINOCCHIO: 70th ANNIVERSARY PLATINUM EDITION (Walt Disney Home Entertainment) — It’s a pleasure to report that everything about the new DVD release of Walt Disney’s Pinocchio is first-class. That includes the breathtaking restoration and the bonus features that fill a second disc. (I can’t review the commentary track because I’m on it, along with animator Eric Goldberg and Disney historian JB Kaufman, but I can tell you we had a great time recording it. You even get to see us in the BluRay “Cinexplore” picture-in-picture version, along with several great Disney artists who talk about the film in archival interview excerpts.)

What impresses me most is the effort that EMC West put into its lengthy historical feature about the making of this landmark feature (and yes, I’m one of the interviewees, but my contribution is minor). I learned things I never knew, and felt the same sense of discovery as I perused the well-produced materials on sequences that were planned for the film and then deleted. Even the unearthing of live-action reference footage shot by and for the animators is more extensive than I’d seen before, and better contextualized.

I wish the default function of the DVD didn’t encourage families and kids to watch Pinocchio in a rectangular format. I don’t think it would harm children’s minds if they learned that older films didn’t look the same as modern ones, but I seem to be in the minority on that point. What really matters is that you can easily adjust the format to 1:33.

GASOLINE ALLEY AND FRIENDS (VCI/Kit Parker Films) — I’ve always been curious about the two films Columbia Pictures derived from Frank King’s long-running comic strip in 1951. They were written and directed by two-reel comedy veteran Edward Bernds (who had performed similar chores on the studio’s Blondie series) but they’ve been out of circulation since their original release. In his continuing effort to untie the legal knots surrounding such properties, Kit Parker has now made them available in a two-disc set, in sparkling copies from the original negatives.

The most striking thing about the first Gasoline Alley film is how it attempts to capture the gentle spirit of the comic strip—and how little it resembles a typical Columbia comedy. There is no slapstick whatsoever; it’s what used to be called a “domestic comedy,” with durable character actor Don Beddoe as the kindly, philosophical Walt Wallet, Jimmy Lydon as his adopted son Skeezix (now grown up) and Scotty Beckett as his kid brother Corky. The other key roles are nicely filled by Madelon Mitchel as Walt’s wife Phyllis, Patti Brady as tomboyish daughter Judy, and Susan Morrow as Corky’s new bride Hope. The story is fairly simple: Skeezix is settled in his auto repair business but Corky hasn’t embarked on a career yet. When he impulsively decides to take over a rundown diner, his brother lends him the money he needs—although everyone warns him that it’s awfully risky going into the restaurant business.

What makes the movie fun to watch, especially if you’re a fan of two-reel comedies, is how the director finds parts for so many short-subject veterans including Gus Schilling, Dick Wessel, Christine McIntyre, and Helen Dickson, not to mention such familiar faces as Byron Foulger, Charles Halton, Charles Williams, and Murray Alper. (The ubiquitous Emil Sitka gets his moment to shine in the second film, Corky of Gasoline Alley.)

I talked to Ed so many times over so many years that I wish he were here right now so I could learn more about this series, which was aborted after just two installments. The second feature is radically different from the first and I can’t help but wonder if it was planned that way or if it came about because someone—perhaps a Columbia executive —demanded a broader type of comedy. It seems as if all the money that was saved on stuntmen and special rigging in the first episode was spent on the second. Even more curiously, the second feature plays as if it’s the third or fourth installment in the series: Skeezix suddenly has two children, and the story is driven by the arrival of an obnoxious cousin of Hope’s (well played by Gordon Jones) who comes for a short stay and then won’t leave. Jones’ harebrained schemes lead to a variety of slapstick disasters, relegating the family members to “straight men.” (Patti Brady does such a good job as teenage Judy that I wonder why her career came to a halt after these two pictures.)

I can’t label the Gasoline Alley movies as major cinematic discoveries, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching them and filling in that gap in my knowledge of movies derived from popular comic strips. If you have a fondness for that branch of pop culture—or if you’re an avid follower of B movies and two-reel comedies—you ought to give them a try. (As for the other comedy features that fill out these DVDs, the William Tracy-Joe Sawyer military series—represented here by As You Were and Mr. Walkie Talkie—may have its followers, but a Sid Melton double-feature—Stop That Cab and Leave It to the Marines—will send any rational person running from the room.)

THE LOST & FOUND RKO COLLECTION (Turner Classic Movies/TCM Vault Collection) - For years my curiosity was piqued by a handful of titles that were plucked from the RKO library and salted away by Merian C. Cooper, who for a brief time was executive in charge of production at the studio. These six titles reportedly appeared on New York television in the 1950s but went back into Cooper’s vault after that. Fortunately he was wise enough to transfer the original 35mm negatives to safety film decades ago, and the original materials wound up alongside his extensive collection of papers and memorabilia at Brigham Young University in Utah. Prints of some titles were screened over the past decade at Cinefest in Syracuse, New York, revealing that there were no forgotten classics in the group—but they were still worth seeing for anyone who loves movies of the 1930s.

Last year the good folks at Turner Classic Movies arranged to screen all six titles and bring them back to a wide and appreciative audience. Now they’ve gone one step further and released them on DVD with a variety of extras, including a brief but informative interview with film historian Rudy Behlmer about the Cooper collection and a welcome array of original photos, behind-the-scenes stills, posters and pressbooks. (The pressbooks can also be downloaded as pdf files on your computer.) The Stingaree disc includes an enjoyable excerpt from a 1975 interview with director William Wellman, who discusses his early life and career—but not the film at hand. It’s also great fun to listen to Garson Kanin on the disc of A Man to Remember. A professional wordsmith, he speaks with precision and gentle humor about his experiences in Hollywood but doesn’t talk about the hoopla that surrounded this particular film, which marked his directing debut.

As for the films themselves: Rafter Romance (1933) is a likable-enough romantic comedy starring Ginger Rogers and leading man (and later director) Norman Foster as boarding-house neighbors who wind up sharing an apartment: she spends her evenings there while he rests during the day and vice versa. RKO thought it was sturdy enough material to recycle as a B movie in 1937, Living on Love, starring James Dunn and Whitney Bourne.

Stingaree (1934) was one of RKO’s lamentable attempts to find a Richard Dix vehicle that would match the success of the 1930 Oscar winner Cimarron. Here again he plays a larger-than-life character named Stingaree who, despite his notoriety as an outlaw, falls in love with a would-be opera singer (Irene Dunne). It’s a handsome production that does give Dunne an opportunity to sing several undistinguished songs, but even a director as skillful as Wellman couldn’t enliven a lumbering screenplay. Dix could be delightful when he played naturalistically, but in these overblown sagas he adopts a grandiose manner that seems positively antiquated.

Double Harness (1934) is a sophisticated comedy-drama about a purposeful woman (Ann Harding) who traps wealthy William Powell into marriage and then tries to win him over romantically. It’s not hard to recognize that this was based on a play, but director John Cromwell does a capable job with two trusted stars.

My favorite film of the lot is One Man’s Journey (1933), a sentimental story about a small-town doctor (Lionel Barrymore) who sacrifices his own happiness for the sake of the people in his community—although they scorn him and take him for granted. Joel McCrea plays Barrymore’s son, who vows to make good in the city and leave small-town life behind. Frances Dee and Dorothy Jordan (soon to be Mrs. Merian C. Cooper) costar in this deeply-felt drama that’s built on the rock-solid foundation of Lionel Barrymore’s performance in the lead. It’s amazing how much plot and character development a studio movie could pack into just 72 minutes back in the 30s; it’s a lesson that today’s filmmakers could stand to learn.

RKO knew how good the movie was and trotted it out again as a property for its hot “wonder boy” director Garson Kanin in 1938. A Man to Remember tells the exact same story (in 79 minutes) but sacrifices a bit because it was made so quickly and inexpensively. The cast isn’t bad, but while Edward Ellis is a stalwart character actor he’s no Lionel Barrymore. Still, A Man to Remember was greeted as a sleeper in 1938 and received a surprising amount of critical attention for a B movie off the RKO assembly line. Unfortunately the original negative no longer exists, and all we have is a print with Dutch subtitles and insert shots; still, we’re lucky to have that.

Old-movie buffs are always on the lookout for discoveries from the past, and while these six films don’t fill any particular gap in our knowledge of the 1930s it’s still great to have them back in circulation. TCM deserves our thanks for all the wonderful work they do on behalf of movie lovers. For more information on these films, including information on ordering, visit this TCM site.

IRVING THALBERG: BOY WONDER TO PRODUCER PRINCE by Mark A. Vieira (University of California Press) — This is not, I’m happy to say, a “revisionist” biography of the fabled movie executive, nor is it a goldmine of new information. Yet Mark Vieira has accomplished something quite extraordinary: he amplifies, clarifies, underscores, and illuminates what we already know about Irving Thalberg, to create the most thorough and empathetic biography ever written about this legendary figure.

To achieve this, Vieira has done exhaustive research over many years’ time; he even produced a handsome picture-and-text volume last year as a warmup to this chef d’oeuvre. Crucial to telling his story was acquiring a the unpublished manuscript of Norma Shearer’s autobiography—which she supposedly burned—and gaining access to all the interviews conducted several decades ago by Bob Thomas for his groundbreaking biography of Thalberg. The result is a fascinating portrait of a man who justly became a Hollywood legend, with insights into his youth, his relationship with his mother, his ambition, and his way of doing business, especially during his decade at MGM. The chapter about his final days is remarkably detailed and particularly poignant.

As with Scott Eyman’s recent biography of Louis B. Mayer, some film buffs may feel they already know the story and don’t have to read “another” book about the subject. I hope I can persuade those holdouts to change their minds. This is the definitive volume about a towering figure in the history of Hollywood.

THE DARK PAGE ii
BOOKS THAT INSPIRED AMERICAN FILM NOIR (1950-1965)
by Kevin Johnson; foreword by Guy Maddin (Oak Knoll Press)

As in his first volume, antiquarian book dealer and film buff Kevin Johnson has gathered and chronicled pristine first editions of the novels and plays that served as the basis for memorable film noirs, focusing this time on the period 1950-65. If you’re a book lover, just having the opportunity to gaze at perfect color reproductions of these vintage volumes, with their evocative dust jackets—or in some cases, paperback covers—is worth the price of admission. If you love the films, too, there is much to be learned from this survey—names of forgotten authors and obscure novels that gained a degree of immortality by being taken up by Hollywood. (To cite just two examples, Gerald Butler’s Mad With Much Heart and Charles Einstein’s The Bloody Spur may not still be in print, but the films they inspired—On Dangerous Ground and While the City Sleeps, are evergreens.)

For every entry, Johnson provides a brief summary of the author’s career, a bibliophile’s detail about the first edition, and a cogent assessment of the screen adaptation and its variance from the original text, citing the most prominent writers on the subject of film noir.

As icing on the cake, the gifted, eccentric filmmaker Guy Maddin has provided an eloquent and enthusiastic foreword. I can’t resist quoting his opening paragraph: “O film noir, I beseech thee! Guide me through the rocky shoals of moral ambiguity to the clear, happy waters of utter misanthropy! Lend me your advices that I may keep them handy for the very next time a dame does me wrong. Thrill me with your punch-ups, your screaming night-queens, your snap-brim dialogue, your dirty truths and your coward-kings! Carry me away, film noir, to the land where the platypus plays; or deposit me, beaten and bruised, on the curb near Los Angles’ Union Station; or, if you’re well and truly done, if all the high notes have been played through that torture-earpiece, just send me screaming form the top of Carlotta’s mission tower and let Bernard Herrmann score my funeral! (The On Dangerous Ground “Death Hunt” theme, please!)

At $95.00 this is a pricey volume, I know, but it has much to offer, both as a reference and as a source of sheer pleasure. It would cost much more to purchase even one of the rare books illustrated here. To purchase a copy, click HERE.

THE WIZARD OF OZ: 70th ANNIVERSARY DELUXE SONGBOOK (Alfred Music Publishing) — I don’t generally review songbooks, but this sturdy paperbound book is more than a routine collection of sheet music: it includes a fine historical essay, wonderful photos, and shows a high degree of taste and dedication to detail. Editor Cary Ginell has amassed an impressive number of such volumes covering the Great American Songbook, Broadway shows, and Hollywood musicals; his That’s Entertainment collection is one of the heftiest in the series. The Oz book includes a comprehensive essay on the background of the film and its composers—not just E.Y. Harburg and Harold Arlen but Herbert Stothart, who is so often ignored in superficial discussions of this movie. What’s more, the piano and vocal parts replicate precisely what is heard on the movie soundtrack. On the one hand, that means we don’t get the verses Harburg and Arlen wrote for the standard sheet-music release of the songs, but on the other hand, it includes all of the Munchkinland suite, the deleted “Jitterbug” number, and many of Stothart’s wonderful music cues (“Miss Gulch,” “Crystal Gazing,” “Toto Returns,” and the unforgettable “March of the Winkies,” with its unforgettable refrain, “O-ee-yah! Eoh—ah!”) As a bonus, Ginell has included two songs from the 1903 Broadway musical version of The Wizard of Oz with lyrics by L. Frank Baum himself.

In a note on sources, Laura Lynn Broadhurst of the Rutgers University Department of Music explains how difficult it is to obtain definitive renditions of this material, since MGM sent most of its original music manuscripts to a landfill several decades ago. She writes, “The vast majority of the surviving piano-vocal manuscripts of the Oz songs date from a rather early phase of the movie’s production—that is, before the songs had been arranged and orchestrated. Consequently, many of these manuscripts do not correspond exactly to the familiar performance of the songs in the final motion picture... Therefore, this 70th anniversary collection offers all of the film’s songs and selected background music in newly reconstructed versions that are faithful to the celebrated performances we have come to know and love in the movie.” Even if you don’t play the piano you may enjoy having this attractive volume in your library.

CAPES, CROOKS & CLIFFHANGERS: HEROIC SERIAL POSTERS PF THE GOLDEN AGE By John E. Petty and Grey Smith; foreword by Noel Neill (Ivy Press) — I’ve always been nutty about serials; if you feel the same way you’ll want this book in your library. Although its raison d’etre is to show off a gallery of posters, there is ample text that chronicles the history of the genre from the silent era to its demise in the 1950s. The authors don’t pretend to be comprehensive; this is more a survey than a history, and the emphasis is on famous heroes and superheroes (Superman, Batman, The Green Hornet, Captain America, Flash Gordon, The Phantom, Captain Marvel, Zorro, The Lone Ranger), with sidebar mini-biographies of serial stars, from Pearl White and Grace Fuller to Linda Stirling and Crash Corrigan. Petty and Smith bring enthusiasm to their text, but the real attraction here is the collection of vintage posters in color—as well as stills, pressbook pages, premiums, and other rare ephemera. For browsing or for reference, this book scores a hit. To purchase a copy, visit this HA website.

MISTER MAGOO’S CHRISTMAS CAROL: THE MAKING OF THE FIRST ANIMATED CHRISTMAS SPECIAL by Darrell van Citters (Oxberry Press) — If you grew up watching the annual network broadcast of this celebrated hour-long animated holiday special, Darrell van Citters’ loving and comprehensive book will bring back happy memories. The author is an animator whose credits range from Who Framed Roger Rabbit to a Bugs Bunny short. He’s always loved this UPA show and has spent years interviewing people associated with it (and collecting original artwork); his book is an obvious labor of love, an uncommonly handsome hardcover lavishly illustrated with production artwork, sketches, backgrounds, layout drawings, and behind the scenes photos. I was pleased to contribute an introduction after reading the text, but I never expected it to appear in such an attractive volume. For more information, a peek at the contents, and details about purchasing a copy, go to the book's dedicated website.

DRAWN TO LIFE: 20 GOLDEN YEARS OF DISNEY MASTER CLASSES by Walt Stanchfield; edited by Don Hahn (Focal Press) — I stand in awe of great animators and the way they bring characters to life through a series of drawings. This massive two-volume set of lectures, edited by longtime Disney producer Don Hahn, offers practical advice to anyone who aspires to master this amazing art. Roy E. Disney is quoted as saying, “For nearly thirty years, the artists that passed through the gates of Disney Animation, and even non-artists like myself, were influenced by the craft, skill, wisdom, writing and sketches of Walt Stanchfield.” Similar endorsements come from Glen Keane, Andreas Deja, John Musker, and Eric Goldberg—some of the finest animators of our time. Hahn says of Stanchfield, “He saw life as a unified experience. Drawings inspired paintings, which inspired poetry, which inspired architecture, which inspired travel—all connected parts of an artist’s existence.” What a valuable lesson to pass along to a new generation. The work is published in two generous volumes, and reasonably priced. For additional information, visit the publisher's website.

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN: THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN MASTERPIECE by Earl J. Hess and Pratibha A. Dabholkar (University Press of Kansas) — Although the authors are new to the world of film, they recognized the fact that no one has ever written a thorough chronicle of this beloved musical’s creation and its lasting impact. Drawing on such first-hand sources as the Arthur Freed papers (including daily production reports from the film’s assistant director) and other primary materials, they have constructed a valuable, and readable, account of its production that often corrects anecdotal versions told and retold over the years.

In many ways the book is a study of film history itself, as Hess and Dabholkar have apparently tracked down every interview ever given by Freed, Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O’Connor, Cyd Charisse, Betty Comden and Adolph Green—and discovered that they repeatedly contradict themselves about every aspect of the picture, large and small, from how Reynolds was hired to whether or not “Make ‘em Laugh” was improvised or choreographed. The anomalies they chart over many years’ time are fascinating. (One minor example: Cyd Charisse had to learn to smoke in order to blow a puff of cigarette smoke in Gene Kelly’s face during the ballet number. In numerous interviews after the film’s completion she said that she never smoked again—while in her autobiography she remarked that she went through several packs a day for many years.)

But if you’ve ever wondered how Kelly and Donen planned and executed the magnificent “Singin’ in the Rain” number, or the ambitious ballet that climaxes the film, you’ll get fascinating and irrefutable details about everything from the tarping of the MGM backlot to create a nighttime look to the creation of puddles in the street. It’s that kind of solid information that makes this book worthwhile.

THE WICKED WIT OF THE WEST by Irving Brecher as told to Hank Rosenfeld (Ben Yehuda Press) — Virtually the last man standing from the era of vaudeville, radio comedy, and the Marx Brothers’ heyday, the screenwriter of Meet Me in St. Louis, and the creator of The Life of Riley, Irving Brecher had a long, amazing career, but he never gave serious thought to writing an autobiography. Then an ardent admirer named Hank Rosenfeld insinuated himself into the nonagenarian’s life, becoming a friend and confidant and wisely taking a tape recorder along every time he spoke to Brecher or accompanied him to an event. The result is an unconventional but entertaining book, full of great stories, wonderful show business memories, rants and salty opinions. (Told by Rosenfeld that I don’t credit writers in my Movie Guide—which is not entirely true—Brecher hurls a profanity in my direction.) It also offers a bittersweet portrait of old age, although Brecher refuses to surrender to sentiment. In one of their last conversations, Rosenfeld asks the 94-year-old what he would like as an epitaph. He replies, “Here lies Irv Brecher, who doesn’t recommend it.”

Brecher sold his first jokes to young, up-and-coming vaudevillian Milton Berle in the early 1930s, never dreaming that he could make a living as a writer. By the end of that decade he was under contract to MGM, where he crafted the scripts for two Marx Brothers movies, At the Circus and Go West, and formed a close, long-term friendship with Groucho. One of the joys of this book is its illustrations; there aren’t many but what’s there is cherce. Script pages from the Marx Brothers films show how Groucho’s dialogue was written and revised. Pictures bear witness to Brecher’s claim that he stood in at a hurried photo session for a stage tour of Go West—only to discover that his picture, in Groucho makeup, was reprinted for years to come as if it were the real Julius Marx. Another anecdote involving the writer and Jack Benny pulling a practical joke on director Mervyn LeRoy might seem like a tall tale if there weren’t photographic evidence to back it up.

If you love vintage show business, this book is a must-read. Prepare yourself for conversational detours, trips to the local deli, and a lot of anger over George W. Bush. And be ready to appreciate a man who never got the attention he deserved. (Irving Brecher died just as this book was going to press, late last year. He couldn’t have asked for a better testament to a life well lived.)

THE SILENT CINEMA IN SONG, 1896-1929: An Illustrated History and Catalog of Songs Inspired by the Movies and Stars, with List of Recordings by Ken Wlaschin (McFarland & Co.) — This book is right up my alley: I love silent movies, I collect sheet music related to films, and I’m fascinated with the way Tin Pan Alley songwriters chronicled the birth and growth of movies as part of our culture. Ken Wlaschin has captured all of that and more in this loving, well-informed, profusely illustrated volume. If you don’t already know “Take Your Girlie to the Movies” or “Since Sarah Saw Theda Bara,” this historical odyssey will open your eyes—and ears—to a wonderful world of clever lyrics, social trends, and savvy commercial exploitation. The book opens with a year-by-year chronology of the silent-film era, followed by an annotated listing of movie stars (and occasional filmmakers) citing the songs associated with them during their heyday. Did you know there was a song inspired by Thomas A. Ince’s epic Civilization? (I didn’t, either.) A survey of recordings and a bibliography round out this valuable book, which I’m sure I will consult for many years to come...but unlike some reference guides it’s also great fun to browse.

IWAO TAKAMOTO: MY LIFE WITH A THOUSAND CHARACTERS by Iwao Takamoto with Michael Mallory; Foreword by Willie Ito (University Press of Mississippi) — Mention the name of Iwao Takamoto to anyone who’s worked in the animation business over the past fifty years and you’re bound to get a smile and a story. Although he spent several decades at Hanna-Barbera as their chief character and production designer he started his career as a teenager at the Walt Disney studio in 1945 and worked alongside such legendary figures as Milt Kahl, Ward Kimball, Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston.

Knowledgeable animation writer Michael Mallory helped Takamoto tell his life story, and fortunately for us, they finished just before Takamoto’s death in 2007. The book is highly readable but it’s also a valuable document for several reasons: we learn what it was like to grow up in the Little Tokyo section of Los Angeles in the 1930s, gain a vivid portrait of life at the Manzanar camp during World War Two, discover rich, wonderful anecdotes and observations about working at the Disney studio, and get an inside look at the m.o. of Hanna-Barbera when it was at its peak of production (along with intimate word pictures of both Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera).

Takamoto has a wonderful sense of humor and his book is an absolute delight. It’s also one of the richest autobiographies I’ve ever read by someone in the animation field.

REYNOLD BROWN: A LIFE IN PICTURES by Daniel Zimmer and David J. Hornung (Illustration Press) — Reynold Brown seldom received credit for his artwork on hundreds of movie posters in the 1950s and 60s, yet he created some of the most memorable images of that era, from the title characters in Creature from the Black Lagoon and Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman to remarkable portraits of such stars as Gregory Peck, James Stewart, Jane Wyman, and Kirk Douglas. He had a productive career before he started working on Hollywood movies (doing magazine illustrations and paperback covers) and after (as a fine artist who became renowned for his western paintings). This handsomely produced book provides an informative, personal biography of the man as well as a thorough chronicle of his work, including photos he used as reference, early sketches and layouts and finished pieces. Interviews with colleagues and family members provide a surprisingly personal view of a freelance artist’s life, with all of its slings and arrows. The pièce de resistance for movie buffs is a generous sampling of original artwork created for his movie campaigns, ranging from Audie Murphy westerns to Spartacus. Photographed directly from Brown’s meticulously detailed paintings (which, the authors point out, were usually degraded in the printing process) they are absolutely eye-popping and well worth the price. Order from the publisher's website.

ERROL FLYNN SLEPT HERE: The Flynns, the Hamblems, Rick Nelson, and the Most Notorious House in Hollywood By Robert Matzen and Michael Mazzone (Good Knight Books/Paladin Communications)

Just when you think every bit of Hollywood history and lore has been explored, along comes a book that’s inventive, surprising and impossible to put down. It exists because in 1987 and 88 the authors, independent of one another, visited Los Angeles and traveled to Mulholland Drive in the hope of seeing the home Errol Flynn designed and built. Each one made his way onto the property—one by dint of sheer nerve, the other waved in by unconcerned workmen—and shot photos, unaware that the house would soon be torn down. In the years since they have conducted an impressive amount of research into the history of the home and its owners over the years: Flynn, then songwriter/performer Stuart Hamblen, and finally Rick Nelson, whose sons have vivid memories of a place they found spooky.

The bulk of the book is devoted to Flynn, and presents a fresh, spirited yet even-handed biography of the actor with special emphasis on the years he spent planning, building, living and reveling in the place he referred to as a farm, spanning eight hilltop acres. In the main house the actor designed secret staircases, sliding panels, and famously, a two-way mirror in the ceiling of the guest room and another alongside a guest bathroom. The colorful text is accompanied by scores of rare and unusual photos, including publicity pictures from the 1930s and 40s and the color shots taken in the house’s final days.

This handsomely produced volume is the kind of book I intended to browse but wound up reading from cover to cover. It stands as a tribute to the authors’ enthusiasm and perseverance...but we who love stories of vintage Hollywood are the real beneficiaries.

MOVIE SPEAK: HOW TO TALK LIKE YOU BELONG ON A FILM SET by Tony Bill (Workman Publishing) — There are dictionaries and encyclopedias that explain the jargon of filmmaking (best boy, key grip, etc.) but none has approached this task with the humor and brio of veteran producer, director and actor Tony Bill. He not only has such up-to-date terms as Lewinskys (kneepads used by stuntmen—“a recent addition to the argot”) but he infuses his definitions with observations gleaned from hard-earned experience. After explaining that an “Abby Singer” is the next-to-last shot of the day, named for the legendary assistant director and unit production manager, he adds, “One caveat: a director can avoid embarrassment by making absolutely sure that the penultimate shot is indeed at hand before he confirms the Abby Singer, for if he reneges more than once or twice during a given production, it will be cause for behind-the-back mockery , if not open distrust. It is tantamount to lying to children or taking away their candy.” Another of this compact book’s assets is an array of witty illustrations by Katie and Peter Maratta.

JOSEPH P. KENNEDY PRESENTS: HIS HOLLYWOOD YEARS by Cari Beauchamp (Knopf) — I could exhaust a thesaurus finding words to describe this book: riveting...revelatory...succulent...jaw-dropping are all adjectives that come to mind. Beauchamp has put in years of painstaking research in order to tell, for the first time, the full story of Joseph P. Kennedy’s adventures in Hollywood during the 1920s and beyond. Although her account of his various takeovers and maneuvers is detailed it is never dull. As Betty Lasky, the daughter of movie pioneer Jesse Lasky, so aptly puts it, “Joe Kennedy was the first and only outsider to fleece Hollywood.” The man who later became America’s kingmaker, by putting his son in the White House, was years before a wheeler-dealer in Hollywood whose ability to bamboozle everyone from corporate boards to glamorous movie stars was unparalleled.

To even begin to comprehend his ruthlessness and chicanery in the business world—and his audacious behavior in private life—one must understand his background and the influences that shaped him. To that end, Beauchamp’s book is a full-fledged biography that follows Kennedy from his early years in Boston (where, as a Catholic in a Protestant-dominated city, he always felt like an outsider) through Harvard and then to the world of banking. She also describes his ardent courtship of Rose Fitzgerald (and the disapproval of her father, the fabled mayor of Boston known as Honey Fitz) and how the moment they finally wed he essentially abandoned her. This set a lifelong pattern in his relationships with women, whom he treated as conquests rather than human beings.

The ability to justify his behavior in any and all circumstances served him well in the accumulation of wealth. From the moment he set his sights on Hollywood he made sure to invest with other people’s money, not his own. That philosophy ran true from his dealings with Robertson-Cole (his first studio acquisition), F.B.O., First National, and Pathé, as well as the eventual formation of RKO Radio Pictures. At one time Kennedy had his fingers in four separate movie companies! (Only the self-made David Sarnoff, of RCA, saw Kennedy for what he was.) Even when he became smitten with Gloria Swanson he didn’t allow his libido to interfere with his business sense. He wound up bilking the star of untold thousands of dollars, even though at one point he spoke of marrying her.

Kennedy’s anti-Semitism is well-known, so reading how he was greeted upon his arrival in Hollywood as a “great white hope” by such influential men as Will Hays and trade-magazine editor Martin Quigley—when in fact he was employing business tactics that might have made the established moguls blush—is just one of the many ironies in this fascinating narrative.

It should come as no surprise that Kennedy was also a master of public relations and quite early in life began reinventing his life story, courting important members of the press, and setting the stage for decades of uncritical (if not downright ignorant) news coverage of his activities. Only later, when he was serving as the U.S. Ambassador to England and maintained a fierce isolationist stance in the days leading up to World War II, did any columnists and reporters have the temerity to cast aspersions on him.

If you think you already know the saga of Joe Kennedy, think again. Cari Beauchamp’s exhaustive combing of business files, public records, previously published works has yielded a bumper crop of new information, just as interviews with people who knew and worked for “the Old Man” have produced many rich, eyebrow-raising anecdotes. The beauty of Joseph P. Kennedy Presents is that it reads like the most scandalous fiction—yet it represents a work of imposing scholarship. I would call it a “must-read.”

HOLLYWOOD DREAMS MADE REAL: IRVING THALBERG AND THE RISE OF M-G-M by Mark A. Vieira (Abrams) — Mark Vieira’s name has become synonymous with handsome coffee-table books, but his credentials as a master photographer and photo archivist sometimes obscure his bona fides as a serious film researcher and historian. In his foreword to this beautiful volume he explains his fascination with Irving Thalberg and promises that this picture-and-text compilation is merely a prelude to an exhaustive biography of Hollywood’s legendary “boy wonder.” I don’t know how long we may have to wait for that magnum opus, but in the meantime, this book goes a long way toward examining the modus operandi behind the fabled film executive’s mystique.

Making abundant use of rarely-quoted interviews with longtime associates, unpublished manuscripts (including notes for Norma Shearer’s intended autobiography) and other sources, Vieira brings Thalberg to life in these pages. A voracious reader, the producer spent endless hours in story sessions with his staff writers and once made this revealing comment: “Directors realize only seventy-five percent of our scenarios, and while the audience never knows how much it has missed, I do.” Greta Garbo and John Barrymore filmed their scenes for Grand Hotel three times before Thalberg was satisfied. In 1930 he halted production on three features that he felt were completely beyond rescue.

As you’d expect, the photos that illustrate Vieira’s year-by-year chronicle of Thalberg’s tenure at MGM are exquisite, including portraits of Garbo, Lon Chaney, Joan Crawford, Norma Shearer, et al., set stills, production shots and more. There are even a pair of fascinating snapshots taken by Basil Rathbone on the set of Romeo and Juliet. A few selections can only be described as eccentric—like a shot from a Karl Dane-George K. Arthur silent comedy in which neither star appears. I suppose the author simply fell in love with the still and couldn’t resist using it here.

I learned more than I ever expected to from the text, and savored the beautifully-reproduced photos. This is unquestionably one of the premier film books of the season.

LANA: THE MEMORIES, THE MYTHS, THE MOVIES by Cheryl Crane and Cindy De La Hoz (Running Press) — I’ve become wary of coffee-table books devoted to great stars. Although they are usually handsome, too often they strike me as a product rather than a book, with text serving merely as filler between photographs. This volume is a notable exception. Not only is the writing compelling and informative, it’s personal, being the work of Lana Turner’s daughter (and coauthor Cindy De La Hoz). What’s more, every aspect of Turner’s life and career discussed in these pages is illustrated with ideally-chosen photographs from the vast collection of Lou Valentino, long acknowledged to be the world’s foremost Lana Turner aficionado.

The book is less a biography than a celebration of Lana, as Crane recounts her mother’s thoughts about stardom, marriage, makeup, jewelry, parties, nightclubs, friendships, pets, working at MGM, and of course the many men she dated (let alone married) over the years. The text is fascinating and dishy but never catty or salacious. For instance, here’s Cheryl on the subject of her mother dating Tony Martin: “Life imitated art and gave Mother and Tony a cinematic start to their romance. He gave her a signature song by introducing ‘You Stepped Out of a Dream’ as she took the stage in Ziegfeld Girl. Tony’s three-year marriage to Alice Faye had ended shortly before he came into Mother’s life in November 1940. Gran [Lana’s mother] adored him for her daughter. I think at the time Mother’s relationship with Tony Martin meant more to her than she later let on, but he was certainly her most steady boyfriend of the early ’40s. Indeed, they were engaged to be married for a short time. They were out all the time and the photos speak volumes about how much fun they had together. Her jewelry collection contained many lovingly engraved pieces from him.

“After Tony found his lifetime partner in Cyd Charisse and they married in 1948, the pair become one of Mother’s favorite couples. There were past beaux, like Tony, who she later came to adore as part of a couple. George Montgomery and Dinah Shore, Robert and Rosemarie Stack, James and Gloria Stewart, Ronald and Nancy Reagan and Tony and Cyd were some of Mother’s favorite married couples. They were friends she thought were perfectly matched. Once a former boyfriend became part of what she saw as a great couple, she downplayed her past with him.”

The latter portion of the book documents every one of Turner’s film appearances, with an eye toward readability and an emphasis on behind-the-scenes stories. Again, the photos are rare and well chosen.

The end result is a comprehensive and sympathetic portrait of a teenage girl thrust into the spotlight who managed to maintain a career for several decades, repeatedly made headlines, endured seven marriages, and never surrendered her status as a Movie Star. It is one of the best books about a star I’ve ever read, so much so that I recommend it not only to dedicated Turner fans but to anyone who wants to learn a bit more about the truth behind the glamour of Hollywood’s Golden Age.

ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS GHOST STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE/FAMOUS MONSTERS SPEAK (MicroWerks) — No director in the history of cinema has marketed himself quite like Alfred Hitchcock. He began appearing in specially-filmed trailers for his films in the late 1940s, and by the time he began hosting a popular weekly television show in the 1950s—which lasted ten years—he became a bona fide celebrity, widely imitated by comedians. He lent his name to a mystery-story magazine, board games, paperback books...and yes, a record album of ghost stories for children. MicroWerks has repackaged this piece of Hitchcockiana from 1962 as part of its Golden Records reissue series. There are six eerie stories in all, written (for the most part) and read by actor John Allen, with minimal sound effects and music, but the treat is listening to Hitchcock’s introductions, done in the dryly humorous tone of his television show. (The album even opens with his by-then familiar theme music, Gounod’s “Funeral March of a Marionette”.) He begins by saying, “How do you do, boys and girls. I’m delighted to find that you believe in ghosts, too. After all, they believe in you, so it is only common courtesy to return the favor.”

The second album in this CD reissue package, from 1963, is equally unusual. Famous Monsters Speak bore the images of Dracula and the Frankenstein monster, as well as the logo of Forrest J. Ackerman’s monthly magazine, which celebrated them and other horror icons every month. Side One of the album—now a cut on the CD—featured a lengthy monologue, imagining what the monster would say upon his awakening. Side Two was another extensive speech by Count Dracula. These well-written pieces by Cherney Berg were performed by Gabriel Dell, best-remembered as one of the original Dead End Kids, but around this time he was a member of Steve Allen’s comedy troupe on television, where he frequently did his uncanny Bela Lugosi impression. Listen to the CD and you’ll hear just how well Dell channeled the great Lugosi voice and intonation. (After all, he met Bela when they were working on adjacent sound stages at Monogram Pictures in the early 1940s.)

The Microwerks series also revives happy memories for baby boomers with The Best of Little Golden Records, Volumes 1 and 2. How could I possibly explain to a child of today the kick of being able to handle your own unbreakable yellow vinyl record and play it on a portable phonograph back then. How quaint! Each CD offers fourteen tracks, some of which I actually remember from my youth. Highlights for film buffs and vintage-show-biz aficionados include the immortal “Mighty Mouse Theme,” Jimmy Durante singing “I Like People,” written by Marshall Barer, Margaret Wise Brown and Ruth Cleary, a sweet new rendition of “Give a Little Whistle” by Cliff Edwards, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans singing “Song Wagon,” (all on Volume One), Jack Mercer bringing his unique vocal styling to “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man,” and Art Carney singing “The Ugly Duckling” from Hans Christian Andersen. Both CDs feature such children’s perennials as “Clementine,” “The Farmer in the Dell,” “Fuzzy Wuzzy,” and “London Bridge,” as well as genuine novelties like a version of “Casey at the Bat” by New York Yankees announcer Mel Allen and a lovely version of Richard Rodgers’ “The Carousel Waltz.” Brief liner notes by pop music expert Greg Ehrbar provide a context for each track. I only wish they’d pressed these CDs on something that looks like those unforgettable golden records of yore.

POPPIN’ GUITARS: A TUNEFUL OF SHERMAN (Solid Air Records) — Producer James Jensen has compiled a lovely CD of acoustic guitar solos featuring the music of The Sherman Brothers. These tuneful, upbeat songs work amazingly well even without their indelible lyrics—or is it just that they’re so ingrained in my consciousness that I’m singing along in my head? Either way, this CD features the work of many fine musicians including Laurence Juber, Tommy Emmanuel, Al Petteway, Kenny Sultan, Greg Hawkes, Doug Smith, Mark Hanson, Pat Donohue (whom I listen to every week on A Prairie Home Companion), Jim Tozier, Eltjo Haselhoff, Elliot Easton, Mike Dowling, Nick Charles, and Tim Pacheco. This album serves as a reminder of how beautiful the guitar can sound when played by a master, without any rhythmic accompaniment. Every track is a treat, although I must single out Doug Smith’s exceptional performance of “Feed the Birds (Tuppence a Bag).” If you purchase the CD from amazon.com you’ll receive a behind-the-scenes DVD as well.

UP AND DOWN THE KEYS; KITTEN ON THE KEYS Frederick Hodges (Frederick Hodges Music Productions) — If you love ragtime, stride piano, and novelty numbers of the teens, 1920s and 30s, you’re bound to fall in love with these collections by Frederick Hodges. This multi-talented performer accompanies silent films in the Bay Area and appears regularly at the Niles Essanay Film History Museum; he can also be heard on a number of Flicker Alley DVDs, including the recent Douglas Fairbanks collection. But if you’ve never heard him tackle the finger-busting novelties composed by Zez Confrey, James P. Johnson, Phil Ohman and George J. Cobb, you ain’t heard nothing yet. Hodges is not only a great technician; he brings verve and gusto to his performances, turning these potential antiquities into vivid showpieces. You can hear samples, purchase CDs, and learn more about Frederick at his website.

WALT DISNEY AND THE 1964 WORLD’S FAIR (Walt Disney Records) — I was a boy when the New York World’s Fair opened in 1964, and I will never forget it. Having never been to Disneyland, this was the next best thing, an elaborate exposition with foods and exhibits from foreign countries and, best of all, a handful of rides and programs created by Walt Disney! I visited it at least a dozen times during its two-year-run. This impressive four-CD set recaptures the magic of that experience.

Disc One is titled Progressland, and brings back memories of the General Electric pavilion and its centerpiece, Disney’s Carousel of Progress. Western star (and frequent Disney narrator) Rex Allen hosts the program, which features the Sherman Brothers’ enduringly optimistic theme “There’s a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow.” You’ll hear early script readings, flubs, Walt Disney’s own introduction to the ride, a sideshow featuring a Toucan and Parrot (voiced by Paul Frees and Wally Boag) and the music that was recorded to keep people humming as they waited on line. A bonus disc features what the producers call an “alternate universe” version of the Carousel show, significantly different from the one so many of us recall so fondly. (I also remember revisiting the attraction at Walt Disney World in Orlando years later and being pleasantly surprised to hear radio veteran Jean Shepherd providing the voice of the narrator instead of Rex Allen.)

Disc Two features Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln. Again we get a chance to hear Walt Disney explain why he felt so strongly about this pioneering Audio-Animatronic exhibit, which was commissioned by the state of Illinois. Disney music veteran Buddy Baker provides medleys of traditional American songs of the 1800s as well as his own stirring score for the program. It’s fascinating to listen to actor Royal Dano’s recording session, during which another studio veteran, James Algar, coaches him in his reading of Abraham Lincoln’s words.

Disc Three is devoted to It’s a Small World, and if you think you’ve heard every possible variation on this infectious ditty, just wait till you go through this collection! Once more we’re treated to Walt Disney’s personal welcome, as well as the initial recording sessions that were mixed together to form the soundtrack for this Disney theme park perennial.

Disc Four, which concentrates on Ford Motor Company’s Magic Skyway, is notable because the journey through prehistoric time is narrated in its entirety by Walt. The pièce de resistance in the entire four-disc set is a collection of Walt’s false starts and breakdowns, which offer a rare glimpse of the Great Man at work—endearingly human and far from perfect, but by now a seasoned performer.

With an elaborate booklet, rare photos and illustrations, and all that wonderful material to absorb, this obvious labor of love is a treat for Disneyphiles everywhere, and a perfect way to rekindle warm memories—or provide some idea of what it was like to visit the Fair. The audio quality is astonishing, from start to finish: you’d swear you were in the room with the actors and musicians. Don’t let this go out of print; grab a copy now for your collection.

DAVID RAKSIN AT M-G-M (Film Score Magazine Golden Age Classics) — If David Raksin had done nothing but write the score for The Bad and the Beautiful he would merit a place in the pantheon of great film composers. He is equally celebrated for Laura and Forever Amber, but this welcome 5-CD collection presents some of his least-known work, mostly from the 1950s. Raksin once said of his career, “I was not the sort of guy who was about to settle for doing anything ordinary if I could help it.” This set proves that to be true. The Americana of Across the Wide Missouri and The Magnificent Yankee, the genteel settings for Kind Lady, and the lovely themes for The Vintage and Until They Sail are equally listenable, and of a very high quality. Movies like Right Cross, The Man With Cloak, The Girl in White, The Nest Voice You Hear..., Grounds for Marriage, and The Reformer and the Redhead were bread-and-butter pictures that weren’t destined for great acclaim, but Raksin was incapable of writing dull music for any of them.

This set was clearly a labor of love for Lukas Kendall, executive producer of FSM’s valuable CD series, who contributes a thoughtful essay about Raksin, and Marilee Bradford, whose informative and empathetic biographical notes and observations are worth the price of the disc. There are also rare photos and illustrations, including a whimsical caricature by Raksin’s first employer in Hollywood, Charlie Chaplin (for whom he adapted the music in Modern Times). Raksin was eminently quotable, as anyone who ever met him can attest. Late in his career a television producer who hadn’t liked the score he turned in changed his mind after hearing it again during a rerun broadcast. Said the composer, “That just goes to show that none of my music should be played for the first time.”

MUSIC FROM CBS WESTERNS (Film Music Society) — Thank goodness for the Film Music Society and its ongoing efforts to chronicle and celebrate composers from the golden age of Hollywood. Perhaps the least-known work of those musical giants is their television scores, a situation that is remedied in part by this interesting compilation of scores written for Gunsmoke, Rawhide and Cimarron Strip in the 1960s by Jerome Moross, Franz Waxman, Hugo Friedhofer and Bernard Herrmann. Lance Bowling and Henry Adams produced the CD, while Jon Burlingame provides a knowledgeable essay in the companion booklet. He also connected the often very brief cues into “suites” that play like unbroken compositions.

These scores may not constitute a major discovery but no music written by these men can be called inconsequential, and it’s all worth listening to. Moross’ music is perhaps the most recognizable, coming just a few years after he wrote what may be the definitive western score, The Big Country, while Herrmann’s music for the Cimarron Strip episode “Knife in the Darkness” is especially notable. As Burlingame notes, “Written entirely for the lowest woodwinds, double basses, harps and timpani, it is filled with growling bassoons and thumping percussion, and may be the most thoroughly evil-sounding western score ever written.” Mastered from original open-reel tapes and acetate recordings in the CBS music library (now housed at UCLA) the sound quality is remarkably good. I, for one, am ready for Volume 2. (This CD is not available commercially; it can only be purchased by members of the Film Music Society. For more information click HERE.

THE JOHNNY CRAWFORD DANCE ORCHESTRA: SWEEPIN’ THE CLOUDS AWAY (Crawford Music) — Those of us who have enjoyed Johnny Crawford’s orchestra over the past twenty-five years or more in Los Angeles have pestered him about releasing some recordings—and he’s finally answered our entreaties with this compilation of live performances. If you only know Johnny as the juvenile costar of the TV series The Rifleman years ago you may be surprised to learn that he later reinvented himself as a crooner, fronting a band that plays original dance-band arrangements from the 1920s and 30s. Johnny’s voice is light and appealing; he brings great charm to his renditions of old favorites like “Louise” and “Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams.” My favorite numbers are the ones that you won’t hear Michael Bublé or Harry Connick Jr. singing nowadays. These songs haven’t survived as standards but are treasured by vintage-music buffs just the same: “Sweepin’ the Clouds Away,” “The Day You Came Along,” “Look What I’ve Got,” et al.

Any band with a rhythm guitarist (the great John Reynolds) and a percussionist who isn’t afraid to use a woodblock is tops in my book. If you love this kind of music you’ll have a good time listening to Johnny Crawford.

THE FILM MUSIC OF RALPH RAINGER: THANKS FOR THE MEMORY – The Chuck Berghofer Trio (Fresh Sound Records) — Following his tribute to film composer Bronislau Kaper, record producer Dick Bank has turned his attention to another great talent who’s overdue for recognition. Ralph Rainger was a virtuoso pianist who enjoyed a fruitful collaboration with lyricist Leo Robin at Paramount Pictures in the 1930s. The result was a cavalcade of hit songs, many of which went on to become standards and also jazz perennials, including “Easy Living,” “I Wished on the Moon” (lyric by Dorothy Parker), “If I Should Lose You,” “Blue Hawaii,” “Love in Bloom,” “Please,” and “Thanks for the Memory.” (Rainger is less recognized as a pioneer in film scoring, as he often worked without credit in the early 1930s, when multiple composers would contribute to a movie’s underscore.)

To interpret the selections, Bank called on three of the finest jazz players in Los Angeles: pianist Jan Lundgren, drummer Joe La Barbera, and the great bassist Chuck Berghofer, who has never served as a leader on a record date—until now. Appropriately enough, he states the melodic line on several of these tunes, giving them a fresh, lively approach. This is impeccably tasteful straight-ahead jazz.

In addition to the titles mentioned above, the disc includes “Moanin’ Low,” Rainger’s first hit, with words by Howard Dietz, “Faithful Forever” from Max Fleischer’s animated feature Gulliver’s Travels, and many others.

A bonus track features Rainger in a rare, somewhat “canned” radio interview from 1937 that concludes with the composer playing a florid piano rendition of “Love in Bloom.” Then he and Leo Robin perform the same song at a famous 1940 ASCAP concert that took place in San Francisco.

An accompanying booklet fills us in on Ralph Rainger’s life and untimely death, and includes some publicity articles that appeared under his and Leo Robin’s byline in the 1930s along with photos and sheet music covers. I can’t think of a better tribute to an unsung figure from Hollywood’s—and popular music’s—golden age.