Overlooked Films: The Cocoanuts (1929)

It had been WAY too long since I’d seen a Marx Brothers movie, so when I spotted a box set of their first six talkies at the library, I snatched it up.

The Cocoanuts (1929), was almost their first film. That honor went to a 1921 silent flick called Humor Risk, which is now believed lost (and may have been purposely destroyed). So The Cocoanuts is as close as we can get to the early, undiluted madness of the Marx boys.

It ain’t their best movie, not by a long shot, but it’s a great appetizer for the better and crazier films to come.

On the downside, there are several insipid songs by the insipid romantic leads (including one called, I kid you not, “Monkey-doodle-do”) and way too many Marx-free dance numbers. But tucked between the dreck, the Marx Brothers do their stuff and do it well.

My favorite scenes are the ones where Harpo eats everything in sight (including a telephone) and picks not only pockets, but steals the false teeth out of Groucho’s mouth and the underwear out of his pants. AND the first of many love/insult scenes between Groucho and the long-suffering Margaret Dumont. A couple of samples that had me laughing out loud . . .

GROUCHO: I'll meet you tonight under the moon. Oh, I can see you now---you and the moon. You wear a neck-tie so I'll know you.

And . . .

GROUCHO:  Did anyone ever tell you that you look like the Prince of Wales? I don't mean the present Prince of Wales; one of the old whales, and believe me when I say whales, I mean whales. I know a whale when I see one

The Brothers had been performing this show for a year and half before it became a hit on Broadway, and had refined their gags to perfection by the time it was filmed. Still, rumor has it when they saw the final cut of the movie, they were so disappointed they tried to buy up all copies and stop the release. I’m damn glad they didn’t. Next up is Animal Crackers.

More (and mostly less wacky) Overlooked Films at Sweet Freedom.

Forgotten Books: The Punisher in "Welcome Back Frank"

OK, this one's only a comic book, but still (and this is the straight skinny from me to you,)…
it kicks ass.

The book is The Punisher: Welcome Back Frank (Marvel Comics, 2008), the graphic novel edition of a 12-part mini-series that originally appeared in 2000-01. The writer is Garth Ennis (that’s the important part) and the artists are a couple of other guys.

The Punisher is Marvel’s long-running rip-off of the even longer-running paperback hero The Executioner. You know, a one-man-war against the mob. The Punisher has accumulated a lot of comic book baggage over the years, but this mini-series pressed the reset button and put him back on track.

Make no mistake: This book is about killing. Bloody, brutal killing. The body count here is around 100, with our hero accounting for about 70, 30 by other hands, one suicide and one murdered dog (never fear, the dog killer is one of The Punisher's 70). But the tale is told with such finesse that it leaves you gasping for more. Sonehow, Garth Ennis weaves in a healthy dose of humor, a little heart, even a touch of pathos.

The overall effect is Jeez, I can’t believe this is happening in a comic! That lady above, for example, is Ma Gnucci, New York crime boss and the focus of The Punisher’s latest vendetta. After he kills her brother and two sons, she’s pissed enough to lead her street soldiers after him personally. They corner him in a zoo, but he turns the tables and lures them into the polar bear habitat, and Ma emerges with a few pieces missing. Later, when he tosses a firebomb into her house, she flops out the window onto the street and bites him on the ankle, so he boots her back into the burning building. I’d like to see Spider-Man or Superman do that!

Tune into pattinase for more (and on average less gruesome) Forgotten Books. 

Overlooked Films: Matty Mattel Cap Gun Commercials

When I was a kid, the Mattel Fanner 50 was my number one sidearm and the Mattel Winchester was my preferred saddle rifle. I had most of the gear featured here (and do again), but have no memory of these Matty Mattel mini-westerns. Luckily I'm still kid enough to appreciate them.

MATTY'S CROSSDRAW SAVES THE TRAIN

MATTY'S WINCHESTER SAVES THE WAGON TRAIN

MATTY'S GUNFIGHT AT THE BIG "M" CORRAL

Shoot over to SWEET FREEDOM for more of this week's Overlooked Films.

Forgotten Books: The French Key by Frank Gruber

When I started reading this book I had a headache. But after a few breezy chapters, the headache was gone. Such is the power of easy reading.

Reading Frank Gruber is sort of like watching Bones. You turn your mind off and let the story wash over you, and when it's over you feel mildly satisfied and mildly refreshed.

The French Key introduced Gruber’s two most famous characters, Johnny Fletcher and Sam Cragg. But as I mentioned some months back in a review of the short story collection Brass Knuckles, Fletcher and Cragg were actually just re-envisioned versions of two earlier characters, Oliver Quade the Human Encylopedia and his assistant Charlie Boston.

Both Fletcher and Quade are mobile-mouthed book salesmen, and Cragg is basically Charlie Boston with muscles. In both series, our heroes are perpetually broke and one step ahead of the law, but somehow find time to chase women and solve murders. It’s all good clean fun.

As with all Gruber mysteries, this one revolves around a field the author found interesting. In this case, it’s coin collecting. The mystery has nothing with a French key (which, we learn, is a what vindictive hotel managers use to shut deadbeats out of their rooms), but concerns an 1822 five-dollar gold piece, considered the rarest of all American coins.

When The French Key was published in 1939, the coin was worth about $10,000. So how about today? An Internet source says there are only three known survivors, and two are in the Smithsonian. The one in private hands sold for $687,500 back in 1982, and is now valued at five million. Not bad. How much of that is due to inflation, and how much to collector mania? Elsewhere in The French Key, we learn that a New York eatery sells hamburgers for a nickel. I’ll let someone else do the math.

Republic released a film version in 1946. I haven't seen it, but Gruber wrote the screenplay himself, so it's probably not all bad. And Mike Mazurki (whom I remember best as Moose Malloy to Dick Powell's Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet) played Sam Cragg. According to IMDb, Johnny was supposed to be a private detective. Republic probably figured it would be hard to sell a book salesman hero to movie goers. If there was ever another movie based on this series, I'm  not aware of it.

FORGOTTEN BOOKS are hosted this week at pattinase (I think).

Overhyped Films: The Outlaw

Everybody’s heard of The Outlaw. It’s famous for being infamous, right? But how many people have actually seen it?

Until a couple of weeks ago, I was one of those heard but not seen people. Now I’m not, and I’m poorer for it. Not only did I waste 116 minutes of my life watching this turkey, but it’s costing me another 20 minutes to write this post.

So how bad is it? So bad I couldn’t bear to watch it in one, or even two, sittings. It eventually took four, spread out over a week and a half, before I finally reached the end.

The first horrible thing about it, the thing that smacks you in the face in the first few minutes and never lets up, is the heavy-handed soundtrack. Every detail of the action, every raised eyebrow and every twitch of the finger, is trumpeted by the music. There’s even a coronet making laughing sounds (ala a Three Stooges short) every time we’re supposed to be amused. This film could be played on the radio and you wouldn’t miss a thing, except the thing it’s most famous for - Jane Russell’s you-know-whats.

Which brings up the film’s second major flaw, the casting. Walter Huston is actually pretty good as Doc Holliday, but everyone else is a joke. Thomas Mitchell, who would make a fine Bozo the Clown, makes a ridiculous Pat Garrett. And Jack Buetel as Billy the Kid? They’d have been better off casting Bugs Bunny. Buetel poses and slouches and mumbles and looks moody, with no redeeming entertainment value. And finally, Jane Russell, who gets top billing, is there only because of her bod. Her range of expression goes all the way from sullen to pouting and back again. (You can tell she’s pouting when she thrusts out her lower lip.)

And if you can stand the music and the cast long enough, you’ll be appalled by the story. Or lack thereof. Near as I could tell, it boils down to this: Pat and Doc are old friends. Doc meets Billy and they become friendly rivals. Pat wants to arrest Billy but Doc objects. Eventually Doc winds up dead. Billy rides away and Pat’s sad. THE END.

But wait. What about Jane Russell? What’s she doing there? Not a damn thing. She has no part in the story. She’s just there for the men to ignore, to pout about it, and to occasionally thrust her you-know-whats in front of the camera.

A lot of folks on the Internet talk about this film depicting a homoerotic triangle between Pat, Doc and Billy. I couldn’t see it, and figured they must be imagining it - until near the end, when Doc and Billy do everything but kiss, and Pat nearly wets his pants with jealousy. Yep, those Internet folks are right.

I’m thinking Howard Hughes was mighty dang lucky this movie was yanked out of theaters for being too racy in 1943. Otherwise, it would have passed quietly into well-deserved obscurity, instead of being a box office bonanza when it was re-released in 1946.

Bottom Line: I want my 116 minutes back. I’ll suffer the loss of this 20 minutes of typing, because I discovered something I like about his movie: It’s fun to loathe. 

For less Overhyped Films, see this week's lineup at SWEET FREEDOM.

Mitchell, Huston, you-know-whats, Buetel.

Forgotten Books: The Mark of Zorro by Johnston McCulley

The original, silent version of The Mark of Zorro is one of my favorite films, and the Disney series is one of my all-time favorite TV shows, so it should be no surprise that The Curse of Capistrano (aka The Mark of Zorro) is one of my favorite books. BUT - even without the screen versions, I would still rate this as a great novel.

A short history: The novel The Curse of Capistrano ran as a five-part serial in All-Story Weekly (the mag that later became Argosy) beginning August 9, 1919. Douglas Fairbanks thought it was so cool he bought the screen rights and released the pic, titled The Mark of Zorro, in 1920. The first appearance in book form, a Grosset & Dunlap photoplay edition (also issued in 1920), used the movie title, as have most editions since.

As always when reading McCulley, I was struck by how well his prose stands the test of time. After 90 years, it’s still fresh - and snappier than a lot of stuff being written today.

I've read this book at least twice, but it's been a while, and there were several interesting points I’d forgotten.

First, it has none of that jazz about Diego learning his letters - and swordsmanship - in Spain, and returning to California when summoned by his father. Instead, we learn that he practiced in secret at home, preparing for the day his fighting skills might be needed. (Don’t know when that Spanish angle crept into the mythos, but it would be interesting to find out.)

Anyway, the story starts with Zorro’s wrongrighting career already underway. It’s said he made his debut in San Juan Capistrano, a mission town a short distance south of Los Angeles, where he raised quite a ruckus - hence the nickname “The Curse of Capistrano.” So as this book opens, he’s already a legend, and the corrupt governor and his soldiers are hot to catch him.

Next, I was surprised (once again, no doubt) that we never see Diego changing into Zorro or vice versa. In fact, though it’s pretty obvious, the reader doesn’t officially learn they are the same person until the last chapter. That called for some very clever plotting by McCulley.

Then there’s the issue of Zorro’s mask. In this story it must be rolled up from the bottom whenever he wants to uncork a kiss on his favorite senorita. This sort of implies it could be one that just hangs down over his face (as depicted on the cover of All-Story, and later in West magazine illos). But that wouldn’t be practical for swordfighting or riding a horse, so it’s hard to say what McCulley really had in mind. It’s clear, though, that it’s not the pirate do-rag thing worn by Doug Fairbanks and his screen successors.

Here’s a shocker: Zorro wears a purple cape. Probably not exactly the color of Barney the dinosaur, but it’s still hard to picture him in anything but basic black.

In the end (yep, this a SPOILER ALERT), Zorro removes the mask and reveals his Diego identity to the whole pueblo. Zorro, he says, will no longer be needed.

And this brings us to the final surprise, that Zorro was not merely a disguise for Diego, but a whole ‘nother side of him. Diego’s listlessness and foppery was not just a pose, but the real deal. Yep, there’s a split personality thing going on, and Diego (for Zorro is no more) admits he’ll have to work hard to incorporate some of Zorro’s bold and romantic character into his own. Surprisingly, his bride-to-be, who has fallen for Zorro and not Diego, does not seem alarmed by this development.

I’m now reading the sequel, The Further Adventures of Zorro (aka The Sword of Zorro) from 1922, and it’s interesting to see how McCulley brought him out of retirement. More on that in a future edition of Forgotten Books.

P.S. This book is available for free download on the web, but the version I found was teeming with atrocious typos. I have since acquired a much better version in Word, and will be pleased to send it to anyone who asks. It should work great on your Kindle (or non-Kindle). Write me at delewis1@hotmail.com and I’ll shoot you a copy.

This week's Forgotten Books round-up is brought to you over at Sweet Freedom.

P.S. Don't miss the FIRST Forgotten Book post by my fellow critique groupee Doug Levin, over at Levin at Large. It features Dead Skip by Joe Gores.

Art Gallery: Allan "Rocky" Lane as Red Ryder

(1946)

(1946)

(1947)

Overlooked Cartoons: Wholly Smoke (1938)

Here's a cool one. I'm thinking the guys who created this were smoking something a lot stronger than tobacco. This is the first time I've seen it in black and white. Must have been colorized for TV.



Float on over to Sweet Freedom for more Overlooked Cool Stuff.