BUNKER BEAN (1936)

Bunker Bean (Owen Davis Jr., pictured) is a lowly office boy at Kent Aircraft. Bunker is proud that Mr. Kent thinks he is his best employee—mostly because Bean is always at his beck and call—but Rose, the secretary, tells him he has an inferiority complex. When Mr. Kent, dictating a letter, says "Action is the soul of progress," the timid Bean is inspired to ask for a raise; Kent ignores him but asks him to spend the weekend at the Kent mansion to do some extra work. At home, he types up a manuscript on reincarnation for Dr. Mayerhouser, who tells him that knowledge of his past lives might help him change his personality for the better. Bean goes to fortune teller Countess Casandra who tells him he was Napoleon in a past life. This goes to Bean's head, to the point where, at Kent's house, he overdresses for dinner and later, spanks Kent's daughter Mary (Louise Latimer) for dating a cad. Kent is shocked, but Mary's grandmother (Jessie Ralph) is pleased to see someone try to show up her obnoxious relatives. Bean goes back to Cassandra and, with the help of her confederate, Prof. Balthazer, they talk him into thinking that he is the reincarnation of Pharaoh Ram Tah, and even giving him Ram Tah's mummy which Bean keeps in his closet and consults with (it's actually a stage prop full of sawdust). When a relative of Bean's dies and leaves him the patent for a gyrostabilizer, he tries to sell it to Kent who only offers $100 for it. Feeling empowered by Ram Tah, Bean then takes the patent to Mr. Jones, Kent's main business rival and soon it looks like Bean will benefit from the warring offerings, but Jones and Kent join forces and try to cheat Bean out of the patent so they both can use it. At the peak of his self-confidence, Bean discovers that the mummy is fake. Can he stand up to Kent and Jones on his own? Maybe with some help from Mary who, recovered from her spanking, has taken an interest in him.

Though fairly obscure now, this romantic comedy was based on a novel from 1913 which became a play and was filmed twice in the silent era. This is thoroughly a second-rate effort, but it's clever and amusing and has a strong central performance from Owen Davis Jr. who mostly took supporting roles and had a brief career as a television producer before his death in a boating accident in 1949. He doesn’t come off as a forceful actor, but that may be because he's playing a mostly passive character. Still, he manages to work up some mild charm, as does Louise Latimer who, like Davis, had a short acting career in B-movies. Jessie Ralph, as usual, is great fun in another dowager role, and Lucille Ball has a small part as Kent's secretary. Hedda Hopper is Bean's mother and Sybil Harris is Countess Cassandra. Mildly enjoyable fluff with mildly talented actors in a mildly amusing story.  [TCM]

STRANGERS WHEN WE MEET (1960)

Architect Kirk Douglas is dropping his son off at school when he sees the lovely Kim Novak (pictured) also dropping off her son. He is struck by her beauty and is quite taken with her, and is thrilled to run into her later at the grocery store. Though both married, sparks soon fly between them, neighbors just a few houses apart. Douglas' latest job is building a home for bestselling but self-doubting author (Ernie Kovacs), who is afraid that his new manuscript, different from his earlier work, will be a bomb. Frustrated doing what he considers unchallenging work, and stuck in a domestic rut at home, Douglas wants to get creative with Kovacs' home. Kovacs isn't sure he wants his home to be too avant-garde, and the two butt heads with some frequency, but they become friendly. Novak, meanwhile, is frustrated with her impotent husband and when Douglas asks her to accompany him to his work site, she does. Soon the two have embarked on an affair. It has its ups and downs (Douglas accuses Novak of being a tramp when she gets into a tussle with a man from her past), but both feel guilty, largely because of their children. Meanwhile, other concerns arise: a slimy neighbor (Walter Matthau) figures out what's going on and has designs of his own on Douglas' wife; Douglas entertains a job offer to fly off and live in Hawaii for a couple of years while he helps build a city. 

This soapy melodrama is about par for the course. I'm not really a Kirk Douglas fan; I find that he tries too hard and I can often see him "acting" in a way that takes me out of the film. He's not as bad here but I can imagine other actors who would have been better fits, like Rod Taylor or Burt Lancaster. Perhaps thanks to the cinematography, Kim Novak is stunningly beautiful here, even more so than in her other movies of the era, and she does a good job as the mightily conflicted wife and mistress. Matthau and Kovacs, normally known as comic actors, are OK. Kovacs doesn't try to be funny but he has a light, cocky manner; Matthau is less successful in overcoming his persona, and like Douglas, other players might have been better fits: Don Murray, George Peppard, Ralph Meeker. (I don't normally indulge in second-guessing actors like this.) In underwritten parts are Barbara Rush as Douglas's wife and John Bryant as Novak's husband. Classic-era actors Ken Smith and Virginia Bruce are welcome sights, and Nancy Kovack and Sue Ann Langdon are fine as Kovacs' hotsy-totsy lovers. Helen Gallagher, well loved as matriarch Maeve on the 70s soap opera Ryan's Hope, has a small role as Matthau's wife. Other viewers have pointed out that this feels like a second-string version of a Douglas Sirk melodrama of the era—this film, directed by Richard Quine, looks fine but lacks the visual gloss and narrative depth that Sirk would have added. [DVD]

DAVID GOLDER (1931)

Some say wealthy businessman David Golder is a great man, some say he's a scoundrel. We learn that Golder was a penniless Polish Jew who made his fortune in New York and has relocated to Paris with his wife and daughter. We first see him at home, preparing to have dinner and rebuffing his former business partner Marcus who needs money. Golder is involved in a deal between the Soviet government and the Tubingen oil company, and if it goes through, Marcus will be left flat broke. Golder accuses Marcus of betrayal in the past and refuses to help. Marcus leaves and appears to have a heart attack in the street and at the same, Golder also has a heart attack in his home. Marcus shoots himself and dies but Golder survives and, on doctor's advice, he takes his wife Gloria and teenage daughter Joyce to Biarritz for rest. The wife and daughter go through money like water, especially Joyce for whom David would do anything—getting a new car is like child's play for her. The doctor suggests David retire, which does not sit well with Gloria. In an intense scene, the two argue; David tries to strangle her with her jewelry and Gloria tells him that Joyce is not his daughter. Meanwhile, Joyce is having a fling with Alec, a prince, though she may have to marry the older Fishel for financial security. Joyce is still the apple of David's eye and when she complains about her situation, Golder agrees to do one more deal, traveling to Russia to finalize the deal for oil with Tubingin, even though he is told he is not healthy enough. Tragedy ensues.

The director of this French film, Julien Duvivier, best known for PÉPÉ LE MOKO, uses the early sound movie camera as though he's been shooting in sound for years. This is no early talkie shot in static, theatrical scenes. His camera is constantly prowling the sets, following characters back and forth across the screen, and occasionally using the equivalent of a split screen (just a very wide shot with darkness in the middle) to show parallel actions and how they affect the characters. The plot, based on a novel by Irene Nemirovsky (who would die in the Holocaust and return to public consciousness many years later with the discovery of her novel Suite Francaise), is serviceable but predictable; actors like Lionel Barrymore and George Arliss would play similar characters in Hollywood films of the era. Harry Baur embodies the title character, bringing him to life, even if we don’t get much depth to him. The other actors are fine if not standouts. Jackie Monnier has the toughest job: making Joyce not terribly likable but still making us somewhat sympathetic to her. The most remarkable scene in the film is of the two young lovers Joyce and Alec (Jean Bradin) lying on the ground, burbling river rapids in the background. Though back to back, not facing each other, they both express sensuality on their faces in a graphic way, as though they were pleasuring each other. It’s a shocking scene for the time (pictured above), and even to some degree for now, as it relies strictly on faces to tell us about sexual desire. A most interesting find, available as part of a Criterion Eclipse boxed set, Julien Duvivier in The Thirties. [DVD]

F.P. 1 DOESN'T ANSWER (1932)

This begins like a crime thriller: At a fancy party, Major Ellissen sneaks away to make a phone call to a press photographer he calls Sunshine, directing him to the Lennartz shipyard for a big story about a break-in. The Lennartz daughter, Claire, overhears him and, being curious, plays up to him. It turns out that Ellissen is pulling a publicity stunt by hiding some dusty old plans belonging to his friend Capt. Droste and reporting them stolen. When they are found, Ellissen achieves his goal of getting the plans rediscovered to get the attention of the Lennartz brothers so they'll fast track the project in the plans: the building of a gigantic man-made island which would float in the middle of the ocean (F.P. 1 = Floating Platform 1) and serve as a refueling station and rest stop for airplanes, complete with restaurants and a hotel. As F.P 1 is being built, Ellissen and Claire become a couple, but he leaves for an extended test flight around the globe, and Claire is soon canoodling with Droste. When the platform is built, Ellissen returns, worn out from adventuring and realizing that he has lost Claire. He vows never to fly again, but when the mainland loses contact with the platform, Claire suspects that nefarious plans of some shipping magnates have come to fruition and she talks Ellisen into taking her out to F.P. 1. Sure enough, major sabotage has occurred; the platform has lost power and is in danger of sinking.

This is often included in lists of early science-fiction films, though that element has been eclipsed somewhat by the invention of refueling ships and aircraft carriers, so for 21st century viewers, this is mostly an industrial spy story crossed with a romantic triangle. After its thriller-type opening, it settles into a fairly slow-moving melodrama. I had trouble caring about the lovers because none of the three (Conrad Veidt as Ellissen, Jill Esmond as Claire, Leslie Fenton as Droste) seemed terribly invested in their romantic feelings. I also had trouble sticking with it to the end, though the climax is decent enough. Three separate versions of the film—in English, German and French—were made. This is the English version, and I have heard that the German version is better. Good line: "Progress sacrifices the old order of things; progress always has its enemies." Pictured in a tinted shot is Veidt. [Amazon Prime]

THE MAN IN GREY (1943)

In wartime London, a man and woman chat at an auction of the Rohan family estate. It turns out that she is Clarissa Rohan (Phyllis Calvert), a direct descendent of the family, and he is RAF pilot Peter Rokeby (Stewart Granger) who has a less direct Rohan connection. After looking through several small pieces, they agree to meet again on the second day of the auction. Meanwhile, we flashback to the 1800's to see Hesther Shaw (Margaret Lockwood) arrive at Miss Patchett's school for girls. She is poor and standoffish but the perky, popular Clarissa Richmond (Calvert) befriends her. A fortune teller tells Clarissa that she will marry a man in grey but that she should be wary of female friends; the teller glances at Hesther's palm then nervously refuses to tell her fortune. Hesther runs away to elope with an ensign, and when Miss Pratchett bans anyone from ever speaking of her, Clarissa leaves as well. She soon makes a good impression in high society, and when the mother of brooding bachelor Lord Rohan (James Mason) decides he should settle down, she sets him up with Clarissa, mostly because she want a legitimate heir (the implication being that Rohan may have any number of bastards around town). Years later, Clarissa has a son she rarely sees and she and her husband largely lead separate lives. She runs into Hesther who is in a traveling acting troupe with the handsome Swinton Rokeby (Granger) as her leading man. Feeling sorry about Hesther's reduced circumstances, Clarissa offers her a job as a governess, but she should have remembered the fortune teller's advice from years ago. When Rokeby gets involved, a romantic quadrangle develops which goes sour with betrayal, revenge, and eventually murder.

This is sometimes pinpointed as the movie that started a vogue in British cinema for period romantic melodramas. It's a mixed bag that should work better than it does. Calvert is quite good, Lockwood a little less so, mainly because her character remains more a means to a narrative end rather than a fleshed-out person. I'm not usually a fan of Granger, but he's pretty good here, and more handsome than he was as he aged. Mason is a little disappointing, giving a one-note performance as the sinister Rohan who is not as active in the plot as you might expect. Despite him being the title character, it's Granger who is more memorable. Leslie Arliss, son of the actor George Arliss, directs in an unflashy way. The movie's biggest misstep is the casting of a young white boy (Antony Scott) in full blackface as a servant boy who pops up at several points in the story. Scott tries his best, but the makeup is so phony and egregious, a modern viewer is taken out of the story. Every so often, you think this is going to go full gothic but disappointingly, it never does. The film does return briefly to the wartime frame story, but only so it doesn’t feel like it's leaving us hanging. Pictured are Mason and Lockwood. [TCM]

ELVIRA MADIGAN (1967)

This Swedish film by Bo Widerberg cut a swath through pop culture in its day, back when foreign language films were considered standard moviegoing experiences. For a few years in the 60s and 70s, the work of directors like Fellini, Antonioni, Bergman, Kurosawa and Wertmuller were welcomed not just by critics, but audiences. Often bordering on avant-garde, they may not have been blockbusters, but they got played in cities big and small, and were topics of learned and/or hip conversation. Every so often, an international film broke through with a bigger audience because of controversy (BLOW-UP), or because it had a star like Brigitte Bardot in it, or because of some sexual element. In the case of the French A MAN AND A WOMAN, the theme music became popular. That’s also the case with this film; a movement from Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21 in C minor, used throughout the film, became popularly known as the Elvira Madigan concerto. Another thing that helped this movie find a large audience is that it is not avant-garde or cutting edge—it's a beautifully filmed old-fashioned romantic melodrama, basically a Romeo and Juliet story which focuses almost exclusively on the two lovers—we learn very little about their backgrounds, families, or friends. 

In Denmark in 1889, Elvira Madigan (based on a real person of that name), a circus tightrope walker, falls in love with Army officer Sixten Sparre. To be together, she impulsively leaves her circus and he goes AWOL. The film follows them as they live a life that might be described as "on the run" from their previous existences, but it's a fairly slow run. They stay at country inns and spend hours lying in sun-dappled fields, until someone recognizes her or until they need to sell their belongings to pay for room and board. Kristoffer, a former comrade of Sixten's, recognizes him and we learn that Sixten has a family back in the "real world," and that his wife has tried to kill herself (though we're never sure if this is a fact or just something made up by Kristoffer to shame Sixten). We're told in the beginning how this turns out (a murder-suicide carried out at a picnic in the woods) so the finale is no surprise. The surprise, for me, was how little I actually cared about the fate of the lovers. I liked the film—if only for the sheer beauty of the color cinematography and the attractiveness of the actors, Pia Degermark as Elvira, Thommy Bergren as Sixten—but with so little narrative context, I couldn't work up much concern for the two leads. There doesn't seem to be any coherent philosophy expressed here except a rather blinkered romanticism, though Elvira expresses an anti-war sentiment when she tells Sixten, who has not actually been in battle, that "war is not parades, it's the smell of burning flesh." The look of the film has been unfairly compared to lush and hazy shampoo or perfume on TV, but I think the style works well (and I suspect that the ads borrowed the style from this movie and others). It's largely the reason I’d recommend this. [Criterion Channel]

HE WHO MUST DIE (1957)

In 1921 Greece, we see Father Fotis lead a group of villagers as they leave their small town, after it is destroyed by marauding Turkish troops, to find a new place to live. In another village a few miles away, the townspeople live in peace with the occupying Turks led by the Agha, a somewhat intimidating but not unfriendly man who enjoys good food for consumption and young boys as companions. Patriarcheas, the town's mayor and chief landowner, has talked the Agha into letting the town put on the Passion Play that they do every seven years—this would be the first play since the end of WWI. Father Grigoris calls a town meeting at the church to assign roles in the play. Katerina (Melina Mercouri) is a young widow who makes ends meet as a prostitute (and also gives massages to the Agha). The townswomen don't take well to her, but Grigoris insists on giving her the role of Mary Magdalene. Michelis, the handsome son of the mayor, and Yannakos, the nosy postman, are assigned the roles of apostles. The beefy butcher Panagiotaros, a frequent customer of Katerina's, is Judas. Finally, Manolios, the handsome blond shepherd (Pierre Vaneck) is cast as Jesus, a somewhat inexplicable choice as the shepherd is illiterate and can barely get through a sentence without stammering. Just after the roles are assigned, the refugees from the burnt-out village arrive seeking food and shelter. The townspeople at first are sympathetic, but the mayor seizes on the death of a pale woman to claim that the refugees are carrying cholera (though she actually died of starvation) and to send them away. Fotis leads the ragged group of villagers up into the dry and dusty hills overlooking the town where they make a primitive camp but are still barely staying alive. 

When Yannakos is told that he can make some money by taking them food and supplies in exchange for their jewelry and wedding rings, he does, only to feel compassion for them, and he decides to give them the food for free. Similarly, Katerina leads a sheep up in the hills so the people can have milk. The other apostle players wind up helping the refugees, but when Manolios reports to the mayor and Father Grigoris that the people do not have cholera, they order him not to tell the other townspeople—the priest tells Manolios that he has the "cholera of heresy, the cholera of rebellion." It's made clear that the mayor and the priest fear anarchy if they accept the refugees. We can see where this is going: the Passion Play actors are acting in a truly Christian manner that goes against the hypocrisy of the town leaders (and the Judas character, jealous of the attention that Katarina pays to Manolios, will soon embody his role more concretely). Will Biblical history repeat itself?

I'd never heard of this French-language film but I'm certainly glad I ran across it when doing an IMDb search on the actor Maurice Ronet (who plays Michelis). This 60-some year old movie, with its themes of Christian hypocrisy (today's evangelicals) and brutal treatment of refugees (today's Republicans), is sadly still relevant. The director Jules Dassin created a unique Easter treat for classic film fans (though the seriousness of the film may make the word 'treat' not quite right). Filmed in the village of Kritsa on Crete with actual townspeople as both groups of villagers, this is not only thought-provoking but also entertaining, with very good performances from everyone, especially Vaneck as the Christ figure, Gert Frobe (Goldfinger) as the mayor, and Ronet as Michelis. The symbolism can be a bit heavy at times, making the narrative predictable (although the ending manages the trick of being a bit unpredictable as well as both ambiguous and satisfying) but watching all the parts and people slipping into place kept me fully engaged. Mercouri is good but a bit too intense at times; her eyes make her look alternately aroused or angry, sometimes both. Other actors of note include Jean Servais as Father Fotis and Carl Mohner as an assistant to the Agha. The IMDb summary says the plot concerns Greek villagers rebelling against their Turkish occupiers, but this doesn't happen until the last few minutes, and then only because the Agha, who has tried to remain neutral, is forced into backing Father Grigoris. The ultimate message is delivered by Michelis who says if Christ returned, he would be crucified again, and the priests would be driving in the nails. (The film is based on the Nikos Kazantzakis novel Christ Recrucified.) I'm so glad I saw this in time for Holy Week viewing this year. I can see this becoming part of my Easter film-watching canon. As far as the commentary, like most on Kino Lorber discs, it's awful; don't bother. I listened to one hour of it and the commentator spends all his time talking about the director and his friends, and says next to nothing about the movie we're watching. Pictured at top are Ronet, Mercouri, and Vaneck; at right is Roger Hanin as the Judas figure. [Blu-ray]

DAY OF TRIUMPH (1954)

According to Wikipedia, this is the first sound film to focus on the life of Jesus—the last one made in Hollywood had been DeMille's silent 1927 movie KING OF KINGS. Though no masterpiece, its approach to the story of the crucifixion is closer to that found in the 1961 KING OF KINGS: we largely see the story through the eyes of Judas and in a strongly political context. Zadok is the leader of the Zealots, a Jewish group wanting to break free from Rome's shackles. Judas suggests to Zadok that Jesus, an itinerant preacher thought by some to be the messiah whose way John the Baptist foretold, could be a strong ally for their cause. We see Jesus gather his apostles, perform miracles (including the resurrection of Lazarus), and accept the attentions of the repentant courtesan Mary Magdalene. Zadok isn't sure that the mix of spirituality and politics will work, but he remains interested in this man's followers. After Jesus enters Jerusalem on an ass (as foretold), the rest of the story plays out familiarly: Judas sells Jesus out for thirty pieces of silver, Caiaphas arrests Jesus for sedition, Herod refuses to hear his case, and Pontias Pilate is stuck with determining his fate.

This is clearly a B-movie, and today it comes off looking like something that was made for cable TV. The physical production isn’t bad, with the crucifixion scene being especially effective, but the acting is rather bland. Robert Wilson is about the right age for Jesus (he was about 35) but he looks much older, and he's colorless and uninspiring. It could be that the filmmakers were afraid of being considered irreverent if they gave the character too much personality. Lee J. Cobb is top-billed as Zadok and he's OK if also rather colorless. Joanne Dru, a pretty big name at the time, is given only two short scenes as Mary Magdalene, and this is the first time I remember seeing the character portrayed as wealthy. By default, that leaves James Griffith (Judas) as the acting bright spot. IMDb shows him as having over 200 roles, some uncredited, in movies and TV, and his thin build and arched eyebrows do look familiar. His melodramatic turn at the end when he regrets his actions is a bit much but he is otherwise fine. Overall, the whole thing feels like it was made to shown in church basements for fundraisers, though it did get a decent theatrical release and garnered solid reviews. I'm not sure it holds up today, but it’s not exactly painful to sit through. Seek this out if you're tired of the same old Easter movie canon. [YouTube]

A QUIET PLACE TO KILL (1970)

Helen (Carroll Baker) is a race car driver who is badly injured in a crash. She is invited to rest and recuperate with her ex-husband Maurice (Jean Sorel) at his seaside villa. Being out of commission and in debt thanks to the crash, she accepts his offer, but when she arrives, she is surprised to find that Maurice has a second wife, Constance (Anna Proclemer). Helen is even more surprised to learn that Constance is the one who invited her, and also made sure that Helen's outstanding debts have been paid. But there is a catch: Constance wants Helen to help her kill Maurice, mostly, it seems, because he's a serial philanderer (both women agree he's very good in bed) and she suspects he's about to leave her. In the past, Helen did try half-heartedly to kill Maurice, which we see in flashback, so she's got a leg up on Constance. The three go for an outing on a boat and the plan is for Helen to kill Maurice with a spear gun, but things go awry, partly because Helen slept with Maurice the night before. When the time comes, she hesitates and Constance tries to get ahold of the spear gun. In a three-way struggle, Constance winds up dead and Maurice and Helen tie her body up with weights and throw her in the lake, then tell the police that she fell in during a windy squall. However, two things complicate their plan: a friend was filming them from up in the hills, and Constance's daughter Susan arrives from boarding school and becomes immediately suspicious of things. Twists and tricks follow.

This is usually considered an early entry in the giallo genre (a murder mystery with lots of sex and blood), though it's got less sex and blood than most giallo fans would expect. But it is a nifty psychological thriller which is well acted, nicely shot in vivid color largely on location, and has fun twists, some predictable, some a little less so. Carroll Baker was a Hollywood starlet of the 50s and early 60s (BABY DOLL, THE CARPETBAGGERS, HARLOW) who went to Europe in search of better work. The rest of her career was mostly in B-films and television, but she made four of these giallo-ish thrillers in Italy with director Umberto Lenzi in quick succession and they have become cult favorites. (The other three are available as a Blu-ray boxed set and I'll be covering others eventually.) She is not the most demonstrative actor, but her somewhat distancing tone works here. Jean Sorel (pictured with Baker) is very nice-guy handsome, and even as he plays a not-so-nice guy, we're kept in his corner at least sometimes. He is boyishly good looking with hints of decadence creeping in. Anna Proclemer (Constance) and Marina Coffa (Susan) and fine. All the main actors do good jobs at keeping us on our toes about motives and character backgrounds, which is part of what makes this movie work so well. The color-solarized opening is quite trippy but is not indicative of the movie's overall visual style which focuses on the natural outdoor backgrounds and the interiors with their attention to money and possessions. Quite good. Originally released in Italy as PARANOIA. [Blu-ray; also on Amazon Prime]

THEY WANTED TO MARRY (1937)

Jim (Gordon Jones) is an ace candid camera photographer for the Daily Mail who uses a pet carrier pigeon named Emily to deliver his photos to the paper. He has been missing for a couple of days (barhopping, we assume), and as punishment, his editor assigns him to get some candid shots of the notoriously camera-shy millionaire William Hunter, whose daughter Helen is getting married at the family mansion. His buddy Roger, who has been after Jim to take a position at his ad agency, has an invitation to the wedding but will be out of town so he lets Jim use the invite (and his fancy apartment) while he's gone. Jim crashes the wedding and snaps some pics, and when he sneaks into an upstairs bedroom to send his pigeon off with his film, he has a meet-cute moment with Helen's sister Sheila (Betty Furness)—he thinks she's in a state of undress when she enters the room and he closes his eyes out of propriety. But Sheila is much less uptight than the rest of her family and she winds up skipping out on the rest of the party, going with Jim to Roger's apartment, which he passes off as his own. When the two are caught trying to use Roger's identity to get room service, they're thrown in jail. Dad pays her bail, but upset that one of Jim's wedding photos of him has been published, he orders Sheila to stay away from Jim. Sheila has other plans: she becomes Jim's assistant. There are more shenanigans, more candid photos of Hunter, more jail time, and, of course, a miscommunication kink that strains Jim and Sheila's romantic relationship before the requisite happy ending. This B-romantic comedy, verging on screwball, is pleasant, and its one hour length is just right. Gordon Jones, who was in one hundred movies between 1930 and 1963, is one of my favorite B-actors (THE GREEN HORNET, NIGHT SPOT) and I quite enjoyed his performance here. His easy charm helped make a role that might have turned obnoxious remain appealing. He and Betty Furness (best known as a spokesperson for Westinghouse on 1950s TV and later as a consumer affairs advocate) work well together. Perennial stuffy butler E.E. Clive is amusing, though the actor he supposedly replaced, Eric Blore, would have been more fun. Henry Kolker is Sheila's father, and Franklin Pangborn has a small standout part as the hotel manager whose toupee keeps flipping up during various scuffles. Pictured are Jones and Furness. [TCM]