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The Pride of the Yankees (TPOTY) is one of the greatest baseball movies ever made. Its enduring strength comes from the film's focus on Lou Gehrig's character and personal values, including decency, integrity and having a strong internal moral compass. He became a public figure without a whiff of scandal, and achieved star status because of his God-given gifts rather than celebrity behavior.

The casting of this film is significant. To play the left-handed Gehrig from his youthful days as a Columbia University undergraduate student to the time of his terminal illness when still a relatively young man, Samuel Goldwyn chose the right-handed middle aged (then 41) Gary Cooper. Cooper was an actor without significant apparent athletic skills, yet he made it easy to suspend disbelief with his nuanced portrayal of Gehrig---particularly evident when playing him as a young college student. Interestingly, Cooper was cast as another baseball player (a pitcher with a blown-out arm) just one year earlier in Frank Capra's Meet John Doe.

In the important part of Eleanor Twitchell---who became Gehrig's wife and soul-mate---Goldwyn chose Teresa Wright. She was 17 years younger than Cooper--and considerably younger and more attractive than the real-life Eleanor Twitchell Gehrig. Wright was in the middle of the most accomplished period of her film career--having just completed Mrs. Miniver and soon to be working on Shadow of a Doubr. She had the unique experience of being nominated for a Best Actress Oscar for TPOTY the same year (1942) that she was also nominated and won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for Mrs. Miniver!

In his excellent biography of Wright--A Girl's Got to Breathe (2016), Donald Spoto explained how the book got its curious title. It referred to a spontaneous remark made by Wright during a romantic sequence in TPOTY---when Cooper and Wright were locked in an embrace that apparently developed a life of its own! Off screen,Wright found Cooper pleasant and professional---someone who tended to keep to himself and often whittled wood as a distraction. The romantic scenes with six foot three inches Cooper and five foot two inches Wright presented a logistical challenge, but it was not apparent in the final film. As for their personal relationship during production, Wright said that ".... We got along very well on the set, although there was almost no chitchat...but I never really knew him." The camera tells us a very different story!

Eleanor Gehrig had previously suggested either Jean Arthur or Barbara Stanwyck as actresses who she felt could best play her in TPOTY. In the end---she stated that nobody could have done it better or as well as Teresa Wright.

TPOTy had a stellar company of supporting players, including Cooper's frequent co-star Walter Brennan. Its reputation as a Golden Age of Hollywood classic only increases with the passage of time. Cooper's farewell speech as Gehrig at the end of the film is one of the most inspiring moments in the history of American cinema. And the magic that Cooper and Wright created in this film makes it truly one for the ages.

Forever Amber (FA) is a classic example of how a major controversial studio-system project evolved from a troubled production into a commercially successful movie. It was based on the sexy popular novel written by Kathleen Winsor and tagged by studio head Darryl F. Zanuck to be the biggest film made by Twentieth Century-Fox in 1947.

From its earliest efforts, FA was destined not to be an easy film to make. Original director John M. Stahl and lead actress Peggy Cummins were the first to go, after Zanuck found their work unsatisfactory. He turned to then-contract director Otto Preminger to salvage the production, but he had little interest in doing so. Preminger disliked the novel and wanted Lana Turner to now play Amber rather than Zanuck's personal choice---TCF contract player Linda Darnell. However, Turner was under contract to MGM at the time, while Darnell was a TCF employee (like Preminger). In the end, Preminger did what he was told to do. Zanuck gave Preminger a new script and production, but the director remained unhappy with the final result.

Would the film have been more successful with Turner as Amber? Probably not. Turner had an acting range somewhat similar to Darnell's. With the wisdom of hindsight, it seems that the Amber role should have gone to an actress who could convey more strength, spirit and courage. At that time, someone like Susan Hayward or Maureen O'Hara might have been able to make a real difference in creating the Amber character. But Zanuck was the boss of TCF, and the project had to conform to his vision of it. That FA turned out as well as it did is a tribute to the often high quality results obtained from the collaborative efforts possible under the studio system.

While many critics had little praise to offer for the acting of FA's two principal leads (Darnell and Cornel Wilde), George Sanders is often singled out for his sardonic performance as King Charles II. But to this reviewer, the best acting in the film came from character player Richard Haydn. His Clifton Webb imitation as Amber's rich elderly husband was quite entertaining, droll and thoroughly appropriate.

An interesting side note to the casting in FA. Jessica Tandy played without any particular distinction the rather bland and colorless role of Amber's servant Nan Britton. Almost at the same time, she lit the New. York stage with her performance as the original Blanche du Bois in A. Streetcar Named Desire---for which she received a Tony Award in 1948. . It is hard to imagine two such different performances coming from the same actress at about the same time.

Many people believe that FA is really a disguised version of Gone with the Wind. I submit that it is much closer in plot and spirit to the lesser known but more enjoyable period romance Kitty (1945), directed with great style by the under appreciated Mitchell Leisen. It is too bad that Kitty was shot in black and white. Once again--blame the studio system!

The second episode of TZ's memorable first season involves a fantasy idea that has occupied the thoughts of many of us at one time or another. Who has not wished to be able to trick Death, and in doing so achieve immortality? This plot element is quite old---dating back to the ancient Greeks and The Pardoner'sTale in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Perhaps its most celebrated example is when Gramps induces Mr. Brink (Death) to climb his apple tree in Paul Osborn's Broadway hit and classic movie On Borrowed Time (1938).

One for the Angels (OFTA) presents us with Lou/Lew Bookman---an elderly sidewalk pitchman (played by Ed Wynn) who schemes with Mr. Death to avert The Evil Decree only to have to deal with the unforeseen consequences of his plan. The plot is clever, but On Borrowed Time may possibly be more imaginative in dramatizing how to cheat death for a time---but only for a time. Of course, in the end Death must always win.

Rod Serling had successfully used Wynn a year earlier in his great teleplay Requiem for a Heavyweight for Playhouse 90, and wrote OFTA specifically for Wynn. It was a curious bit of casting, since Wynn's acting experience was somewhat limited, and his speech pattern was slow and hampered by a pronounced lisp. Wynn himself was intimidated by the amount of dialogue he was expected to memorize, and the challenge he faced to make his final pitch truly seem like it was in fact one for the angels. But the basic decency and humanity of Wynn's character somehow overcame these limitations, and it sprung to life as one of great sensitivity and compassion. Or as Marc Scott Zicree stated in The Twilight Zone Companion (1982), Wynn's portrayal "emerges as a moving commentary on mortality and self-sacrifice."

Ed Wynn had a long and notable career as a comedian-entertainer. But his work in Reqiem for a Heavyweight and OFTA suggests that he likely could have achieved considerable additional acclaim as a serious actor had these opportunities come earlier in his life.

Serling never expanded OFTA into a feature length movie as he did in Requiem. But thanks to the marvels of film, we are able to see this fine effort by Ed Wynn preserved for us to enjoy today--some 75 years later. Art is timeless!

It has happened to most of us at one time or another. The daily stresses of life begin to wear us down in their often unrelenting way, and we seek escape from that unpleasantness through a flight of fancy. In the case of Barbara Jean Trenton (ida Lupino), she slips into a past movie world where she was once famous, young and beautiful. Eventually, reality becomes blurred for her---and for us, too, as we watch her rediscover herself in The Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling was fond of this plot device, which he revisited to greater advantage later in that astonishing first season with A Stop at Willoughby--now a classic of the series. The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine (TSMS) provided excellent acting opportunities for the under-appreciated Lupino as the aging star who finds happiness only through reliving her life from an earlier time. And Martin Balsam as her sensitive and caring agent. This episode was a first class effort in every respect, from using a score composed by Franz Waxman, cinematography by-the legendary George T. Clemens and direction by Mitchell Leisen--one of the most celebrated Hollywood directors from its Golden Age.

Lupino and Balsam are justifiably well known. Leisen is less so today, and a modern audience may not fully appreciate just how important he was when at the apex of his fame. Trained as an architect and celebrated early in his career as a successful art and set director and costume designer, Leisen became a full-fledged film director with many noteworthy credits in his resume. He directed a great Fredric March early classic (Death Takes a Holiday); helmed one of John Barrymore's most enjoyable comedy performances (Midnight); and helped shape the lead role in To Each His Own that resulted in Olivia de Havilland winning a Best Actress Academy Award in 1946.

TSMS is not as well known as many other first season episodes from The Twilight Zone. This is a real pity, because it is extremely well produced and directed, and provides the audience with a good balance between bitterness and nostalgia so that neither overpowers the other. With its obvious plot similarities to the film Sunset Boulevard, Ida Lupino's fascinating performance is an interesting one to compare with the more famous but perhaps less nuanced one of Gloria Swanson. TSMS is certainly worthy of your attention when you make a visit to The Twilight Zone.

In the 1930s, Warner Brothers became the go-to studio for making films involving social drama themes---particularly stories about crime and its effect on society. Its three principal male actors who developed a specialty in playing roles in this genre were Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney and Edward G. Robinson. They achieved major fame from the realistic and often violent way they depicted criminal behavior during this period of economic unrest brought about by the Great Depression.

However, in the midst of starring in many "gangster-type" movies, each of these actors departed from being type-cast and chose to "spoof" their other work by tackling comedy. Cagney was the first with a pair of comic criminal satires---"Lady Killer " (LK) (1933) and "Jimmy the Gent"(1934). Robinson soon followed with "A Slight Case of Murder" (1938). Finally, Bogart appeared in "All Through the Night" (1942). LK may be the best of this group of films because of its energetic pace, nonstop action, inspired combination of comedy and melodrama and the sheer fun Cagney and the other actors seemed to have at poking holes in their usual anti-social characters.

In particular, Cagney excelled in projecting wit, vitality, cockiness and optimism at a time when life was especially hard on members of the underclass. Just as Footlight Parade (1933) captures the young Jimmy Cagney in a definitive example of his unique and under appreciated dancing skill---LK gave him a rare opportunity to demonstrate his special aptitude for physical comedy. This was often missed because so many of his hit movies dealt with serious social issues.. Cagney was so believable as the theater usher/criminal/movie actor character in LK that many in the audience actually felt that they were watching the "real" Cagney on the screen---a transformation perhaps more dramatic than any realized in the work of either Bogart or Robinson.

The idea that a mobster would move to Hollywood to escape the law and successfully adopt the guise of an actor in the process is outrageous yet compelling in its audacity. That Cagney would then become a real star as part of the narrative only adds "icing to the cake." Was Cagney really.what he pretended to be--and if so---which role reflected his true character?

Hollywood often took itself quite seriously when it engaged in self-satire. Cf. A Star Is Born.(1937) and. Sunset Boulevard (1950). In LK, the narrative borders on the outlandish, which only adds to its enjoyment as movie entertainment. All the actors seem inspired by participating in this thoroughly offbeat.and delightful film. It is our loss that the multi-talented James Cagney never was given another similar opportunity to play.a zany comic character.

In any event, we have LK---and that is a major plus in a long career that had so many others!

The process of creating a work of art can be extremely complex, and each one is unique and irreplaceable. But can something be considered a work of art if it is also derivative?

The Carlos Saura (director)-Antonio Gades (choreographer, dancer, actor) dance film version of Prosper Merimee's classic novel Carmen provides a perfect example to resolve this question. It draws much of its power and beauty from the famous Georges Bizet opera of the same name, whose libretto is cleverly positioned into the film's narrative. Yet the Saura-Gades film also borrows ideas from still other works of art: Can the passion involved in bringing life to an artistic creation supplant normal human love (The Red Shoes 1948)? And what happens when the creative process takes over and controls the artist's life to the point that he/she can no longer distinguish fantasy from reality (A Double Life.1947, itself derived from the earlier British film Men Are Not Gods 1936)?

In Carmen, Saura and Gades took Merimee's timeless story of love, jealousy, betrayal and doom and transposed it into a remarkable dance synthesis that manages to be both dramatically interesting and sensually passionate at the same time. In addition to a gorgeous sound track featuring generous portions of Bizet's glorious opera, Carmen's creators have given us an outstanding visual treat. The dance sequences are astonishing in how well they are integrated into Carmen's narrative--again reminiscent of The Red Shoes. For all its artifices, Carmen grabs its audience into a world that still manages to be both believable and arresting.

It is difficult to make a realistic yet theatrical movie about the creative process. Even the most acclaimed such ventures sometimes seem to be unable to totally escape from their artificial roots (cf. All About Eve 1950). This makes Carmen a very special achievement, one that excites and thrills us even with repeated viewings.

Carmen may be derivative, but it is undeniably a work of art as well as an entertainment landmark. Very highly recommended.

The actor Cary Grant made his first movie (This Is the Night) in 1932. For the next five years, Grant made about 25 more films, and demonstrated flashes of real cinematic talent. He had his breakthrough experience in 1937 by making Topper (his 27th) and The Awful Truth (his 29th). In these two films, he created for the first time the character Cary Grant. This gentleman was smooth, debonair, charming, possessed a good sense of humor, charismatic, appealing and quite handsome--like catnip to women while at the same time being likable to men. What a combination of desirable attributes! This character appeared with considerable regularity, popularity and acclaim through the period that ended with Charade in 1963. These films are among the greatest of all time, and the Cary Grant character that they displayed is probably why he became one of the most admired leading men in the history of cinema.

Charade was written by Peter Stone, and contains the last film to feature the Cary Grant character in all its glory. In Charade, Grant was approaching the age of 60 while his co-star Audrey Hepburn was then 34--a difference of 26 years. Charade provided a clear illustration of what was becoming the only real problem with the Cary Grant character---the public could and would accept him as aging "gracefully" but the process seemed to require his being paired with women who were getting considerably younger than he was. Among his recent co-stars were Grace Kelly (born 1928), Eva Marie Saint (born 1924), Sophia Loren (born 1934), Suzy Parker (born 1933) and Betsy Drake (born 1923). Grant was getting increasingly uncomfortable with this situation, and Stone had to develop some inspired creative dialogue in Charade to enhance the believability of pairing Grant with Hepburn.

Grant and Stone became involved in his next film--Father Goose (FG). A shrewd realist, Grant (born 1904) sensed that he had to come up with a new character to make plausible the romantic casting of himself with Leslie Caron (born 1932). The idea Stone and Grant came up with was to make Grant a grizzled, alcoholic beachcomber on a South Pacific island early in World War II who by chance encounters Caron and her brood of young girls and helps them to escape from the menacing Japanese. Grant's new character was often funny and occasionally likable, but he was decidedly not occupying the same space inhabited by the classic Cary Grant character.

FG would be the last film in which Cary Grant was cast as a romantic leading man. His next (and final) film was Walk, Don't Run---a remake of the 1943 classic The More the Merrier, in which he played the part that garnered a Supporting Oscar for Charles Coburn as the aging Cupid.

Unlike Fredric March, Humphrey Bogart, Charles Boyer and other former leading men, Grant could not be accepted by his public in a non-Cary Grant character part. He readily embraced retirement and never looked back. While the critics liked FG, his fans did not. The world moved on. FG is still an entertaining comedy with an endearing performance by Grant, but the days of the Cary Grant character were now over. Long live the king!

Frank Sinatra has had an interesting film career---one that ranged from playing a grimy cowboy in a Western spoof, a Runyonesque character, a Spanish revolutionary, an army misfit, a criminal mastermind, a dope addict, etc. It was not always this way. In the beginning of that career, his handlers created a nice guy image for him, and he usually was cast as a sweet natured, kind, decent, likable and almost asexual fellow who often seemed too good to be believed. It Happened in Brooklyn (IHIB) is a movie from that early period, and is quite typical of the kind of roles he was.accepting before everything changed after he took on the part of Maggio in From Here to Eternity (1953). IHIB was made between his appearance in the Jerome Kern biopic Till the Clouds Roll By (1946) and his almost saintly village priest in The Miracle of the Bells (1948).

It is hard to believe that the character Danny Webson Miller in IHIB was played by the same actor who could also make you accept him as a private eye in the manner of Humphrey Bogart's Marlowe in The Big Sleep.(1946). How many moviegoers in 1947 had the foresight to see in Sinatra's nascent film appearances the range and versatility he would repeatedly demonstrate throughout his extensive and remarkable film career?

In any event, IHIB captures an early incarnation of Sinatra in a most enjoyable musical--one of the declining number from this period made by MGM in black and white. His work with the legendary Jimmy Durante confirms just how natural and unassuming he could be on the screen. And once again, Sinatra and Kathryn Grayson complemented each other in producing an entertaining pair of most talented singers on the cusp of breakout stardom. His easy-going charm was so typical of him at this stage of his film work. It is a shame that he would in just a short seven years become Presidential assassin John Baron in Suddenly (1954), and move into a totally different phase of his movie stardom.

Frank Sinatra rose from a bobby sox crooner in the mold of Bing Crosby (his idol) to become one of the most popular movie stars of his generation. He did so primarily on the basis of a huge reserve of latent natural talent. In IHIB, you can see this gift in early bloom. It is a classic entertainment from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Bad for Each Other ([BFEO) is an obscure modestly regarded film that Charlton Heston made as a Paramount contract employee on loan out to Columbia at the dawn of his cinematic acting career. It was preceded by his excellent western movie Arrowhead, and immediately followed by his well regarded unusual adventure film The Naked Jungle (all made in 1953). BFEO (unlike Arrowhead and The Naked Jungle) is a contemporary social melodrama with a story set in a coal mining suburb of Pittsburgh. Heston is a recently discharged MD who is faced with the usual dilemma such folks often have to deal with: should he be a capitalist and seek out the most lucrative opportunity to practice medicine or a humanitarian and apply his skills to help the less fortunate people in his community? This is the issue at the heart of BFEO.

Heston is conflicted and somewhat self-righteous as he comes to grips with his personal values and convictions. Complicating matters are those individuals who are the major influences in his life: a predatory society woman who has set her sights on him (Lizabeth Scott), an idealistic nurse (Dianne Foster), a young doctor who believes that fulfillment can only come from assisting the poor (Arthur Franz), an older doctor who has a small practice in the mining community (Rhys Williams) and a.mother who believes that he should stay and work in his home town (Mildred Dunnock).

BFEO has a plot that contains echoes from other films: So Big (1932), The Citadel (1938), Not as a Stranger (1955), How Green Was My Valley (1941) and The Best Years of Our Lives (1948). It was directed in workmanlike fashion by veteran Irving Rapper, and the acting is consistently interesting. Heston is sincere, stalwart and occasionally naive in his troubled soul-searching, Scott (cast against type) is a spirited if not entirely credible rich young matron, Foster is a beautiful and appealing supporting player, Franz (a successful TV actor at the time) is quite engaging in his idealistic role, Williams is strong and dependable as always and Dunnock makes a most realistic mother trying to help her son with his choices in life. This excellent cast lifts BFEO from being a routine somewhat derivative entertainment, and the film certainly deserves a fresh reconsideration by a modern audience.

Why was this film not titled Gold Diggers of 1934? It had many of the hallmarks that characterized the Berkeley hits of the early 1930s---songs by Harry Warren and Al Dubin, a cast including Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler, Joan Blondell and Guy Kibbee, yet another variation on the tried and true "How do we find a financial backer for our Broadway-worthy show?" plot line, and a generous presentation of Berkeley-inspired dance numbers with all those gorgeous girls in their best pre-code finery. At times, you could not help but feel that you had seen this before---and you probably did.

One possible explanation for the Dames title attached to this enjoyable confection is the fact that it was sandwiched in between two Berkeley films that signaled they were (or might be) part of an ongoing series of similar WB offerings. Dames was preceded by Fashions of 1934 directed by William Dieterle (not usually associated with this kind of material) featuring William Powell and a light role starring Bette Davis. It was followed by Gold Diggers of 1935 (Berkeley's solo effort as a film director) starring Dick Powell and Gloria Stuart and featuring the classic Warren-Dubin song The Lullaby of Broadway. It is certainly possible that WB may have been becoming sensitive to an accusation that any movie series (or even the appearance of one) could be criticized as being packaged, repetitive and lacking originality.

And what can we say about Dames? It is probably more "screwball" than most of the others in the Berkeley-WB 1930s canon. Dames definitely makes no attempt to tell a deep story--but who cares? With the usual WB Stock Company augmented by Zazu Pitts and Hugh Herbert, how could Dames miss as a top notch comedy musical? It had five.songs--three by Warren and Dubin---including the unforgettable I Only Have Eyes for You---one of the most splendid songs ever written for a film. That tune and the Dames title song were staged by Berkeley into exceptional rhythmic creations incorporating unique abstract designs that one critic called a "startlingly kaleidoscopic cacophony of geometric and floral mosaics." Another reviewer used the word " cinematerpsichorean"in an attempt to describe Berkeley's artistic triumph in Dames.

Berkeley was working at full throttle in the creation of Dames. What followed it may signal the beginning of a decline in his creativity. But Dames ranks among his greatest cinematic accomplishments.

The Big Sleep (TBS) (1946) from Howard Hawks and Humphrey Bogart is a great film noir that stands for the proposition that a sometimes confusing and occasionally incomprehensible story can still provide grand entertainment through the power of its acting, dialogue and ambience. Orson Welles's somewhat mutilated spy thriller Journey into Fear (JIF) cannot be mistaken as another TBS because of its own continuity issues. However, (like TBS) it is a prime example of how audience enjoyment can periodically arise out of the chaos that often accompanies the creative process of movie making.

JIF was made around the same time that Orson Welles was wrapping up The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) and just before he embarked on his splendid acting assignment in Jane Eyre (1943). Also lurking in the background was the incompleted semi-documentary It's All True, that consumed so much of Welles's creative energy and similarly disrupted his film work. JIF was based upon a best-selling novel by Eric Ambler, and at one time it was considered as a project by producer Samuel Goldwyn for Gary Cooper or Charles Boyer as the lead. Thomas Mitchell, Michele Morgan, Maria Ouspenskaya and ace writer Ben Hecht also had some involvement in JIF at an early stage. All this changed when Welles expressed an interest in making it at RKO with Joseph Cotten as the lead and Dolores Del Rio (Welles's current love interest) in the principal female role. The picture quickly took on the features of a Mercury Production, with the notable exception of enlisting Welles's bulky non-actor business manager Jack Moss to play the villain Banat. Moss insisted that he would have no lines to speak, and this was to be his one and only acting assignment. Welles himself assumed the important but small supporting part of the Turkish police inspector Haki. According to Citizen Welles by Frank Brady (1989), the costume and makeup adopted by Welles were modeled to make him appear like Joseph Stalin.

From its beginning, JIF encountered censorship and Turkish political objections that could be addressed only by adversely affecting the film's continuity. What was begun with high hopes and an expectation to be another film like Hitchcock's The 39 Steps (1935) soon became a crippled story with a confusing narrative. Director Norman Foster never bothered to read the Ambler novel, and it has been rumored that much of the final picture was actually helmed by Welles himself.

Like TBS, JIF was saved to a large extent by its ambience. It is considered to be a minor film in the Welles' canon. But there is no doubt that it is both interesting and entertaining. As with so many film projects that Welles undertook throughout his long career, JIF was plagued by numerous "problems." How much of them is actually attributable to Welles himself as opposed to others is difficult to answer. After all, a genius, like a pedigree dog, is entitled to a long leash.

Angel Face (AF) is probably Otto Preminger's best film noir after Laura (1944). That it turned out so well is a small Hollywood miracle. Preminger was loaned by Twentieth Century-Fox to RKO (and studio head Howard Hughes) to film a script entitled Murder Story (AF's original title). Jean Simmons was cast to play the female lead opposite Robert Mitchum. Preminger disliked the original script and Mitchum wanted out of the assignment. The picture had to be completed in 18 days, because that was the length of Simmons's remaining contractual obligation to Hughes. Simmons and Hughes were then antagonistic toward each other; she demonstrated her attitude about this by cutting her long dark hair down to its roots.

Somehow, all the stress and difficulty that accompanied this production never appeared on the screen. Simmons (cast against type) was beautiful and scary as a psychopath who hates her step-mother, and Mitchum in a sensitive and nuanced performance was perfect as the strong character who ultimately falls prey to the Simmons femme fatale. Although AF was not well received at the time of its initial release, its reputation has grown over the years and it has become a film noir cult classic.

As other reviewers have pointed out, AF has a number of plot and other similarities to The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) including the leading man's first name (Frank Jessup in AF and Frank Chambers in Postman). Another coincidence is the fact that Leon Ames played lawyers in both films (the defense attorney for Mitchum and Simmons in AF and the DA in Postman). Death by auto crash also figures prominently in both movies.

Preminger made excellent use of the good girl/bad girl plot device, and Mona Freeman was quite splendid in her few but compelling scenes as the former. Jim Backus was also effective in his brief but showy part as the prosecuting DA.

And what did Preminger finally think about the movie upon completion? As explained in The Cinema of Otto Preminger by Gerald Pratley (1971), Preminger tended to be dismissive of his films after finishing them because he was always consumed by his next project. Pratley relates an anecdote about AF that is worth repeating. Some time after AF's initial release, Preminger saw it for the first time in Paris. He admitted that he "really had forgotten most of it" upon viewing the movie. He went on to say that when he saw it "it all came back, but because it is past, I don't remember how I did it.... I just don't know why, I want to go on to something new."

AF may not have the same reputation as Laura as a film noir classic, but it is a fine example of Mitchum's and Simmons's best screen work. Don't pass it up the next time TCM chooses to show it.

There is a back story to the movie Conflict that perhaps is even more interesting than the film itself. The details of this little known matter are discussed at considerable length in the definitive biography Bogart by A. M. Sperber and Eric Lax (1997).

In 1943, Humphrey Bogart's stormy marriage to Mayo Methot was reaching its nadir. Professionally, he had just completed his acclaimed WWII tank saga Sahara on loan out to Columbia, and was looking forward to his next planned production Passage to Marseille (PTM) (the studio had misspelled the city's name by dropping the final "s"). PTM was planned as a major Warner Brothers picture that would reunite many members of the creative team that made the classic Casablanca (producer Hal B. Wallis, director Michael Curtiz, music by Max Steiner and actors Humphrey Bogart, Claude Rains, Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre).

Unexpectedly, Jack Warner then presented Bogart with a script titled The Pentacle (later renamed Conflict), and asked him to take it on before beginning PTM. Bogart immediately rejected the idea; he found the writing weak, the narrative dull and the story uncomfortably threatening. It was about a man who plans to kill his wife after celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary, and appears to be more than just an example of art seeming to imitate life. (In fact, the Bogarts actually celebrated their own fifth wedding anniversary during the filming of Conflict).

Warner and Bogart extensively argued about the matter without any resolution. Warner threatened to remove Bogart from PTM and replace him with French actor Jean Gabin, who was temporarily in Hollywood because of the German occupation of France during WWII. Lurking in the background during this impasse was an internal dispute at Warner Brothers over Jack Warner's insistence on getting executive producer credit on all WB films, including those that had been made under Hal Wallis's leadership (e.g. Casablanca, Now Voyager and Watch on the Rhine). Conflict (the film) was intended as a Jack Warner production from the beginning, which may explain his heavy involvement in the decision to cast Bogart in it.

On June 3, 1943--in the middle of this conflict over making Conflict--the world learned of the sudden death of actor Leslie Howard. His plane was shot down by Nazi fighters over the Bay of Biscay apparently under the mistaken impression that Winston Churchill was also aboard Howard's aircraft. Howard had been Bogart's co-star on Broadway in The Petrified Forest, and was responsible for establishing his film career by insisting that for his first movie Bogart re-create his role of Duke Mantee in the film version of the celebrated play in which Howard also would appear. Howard's tragic death so affected Bogart that he saw his dispute with Warner in perspective as really a matter of little real significance. He quickly agreed to make Conflict, which was not theatrically released until two years later.

And what about the film at the center of all this drama? It is one of Bogart's lesser known and regarded movies of the 1940s. But in it, he created a character who was a warmup for future roles about men who are undone by mental stress and serious personality disorders (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, In a Lonely Place, The Caine Mutiny, etc.). It is a satisfying and entertaining performance, and deserves to be seriously reconsidered by a contemporary audience.

Rachel and the Stranger (RATS) is film that may be best known today as being part of an important transition in the careers of its three principal actors.

When he made RATS, William Holden (born 1918) was on the cusp of one of the most significant leading man careers in Hollywood history. He was just two years away from his breakthrough role as Joe Gillis in Sunset Boulevard (1950), and that film would soon be followed by Stalag 17 (1953). He was about to enter the rarified category of "superstar."

Robert Mitchum (born 1917) had already achieved considerable success with his work in The Story of G. I. Joe (1945) and Out of the Past (1947). All this changed on Sept. 1, 1948 when Mitchum was arrested on a marijuana charge that rocked Hollywood. Some $5 million were then tied up with his unreleased films, including RATS, Blood on the Moon (1948) and The Red Pony (1949). What few people realized at the time was that Mitchum would overcome this scandal and emerge as a major film star who became even more important in the years ahead--with a long significant body of movies destined to define his future.

Loretta Young (born 1913) achieved instant fame when she co-starred at the age of 15 opposite Lon Chaney in the silent Laugh Clown Laugh (1928). She remained a star of the first rank throughout the 1930s and into the 1940s. When her career began to falter, Young revived it with her Oscar winning performance in The Farmer's Daughter (1947). RATS soon followed, as Young moved into more mature roles. Then in 1953, she retired as a film star and created the popular television series The Loretta Young Show. It ran for eight successful seasons and completely rejuvenated her acting career. Like Audrey Hepburn many years later, Young was able to transition when in her 30s into romantic parts opposite younger men. This was quite a tribute to her extraordinary beauty and youthful appearance.

As for RATS itself, it is a pleasant, warm and engaging romance/action movie that did not greatly challenge its three stars---and gave each of them the opportunity to showcase their charm and attractiveness. It paved the way for many more famous acting opportunities yet to come.

Raffles is one of a large group of popular classic films that ended up as the subject of a major cinematic remake. Many--perhaps most of these remakes were produced to take advantage of evolving technological advances, i.e the original version was silent and the remake would be with sound; or the original version was shot in black and white while the remake was filmed in color. Raffles was remade in 1940 for two principal reasons: (1) the original version utilized early primitive sound, which was much improved by 1940; and (2) producer Samuel Goldwyn was anxious to introduce David Niven as the "new" Ronald Colman in 1940, as by then Colman was 49 years old whereas Niven was only 31.

The original Colman version of Raffles had its own special virtues: it was made during the creative pre-Code period, and therefore could present its hero as a rule-bending, rakish and somewhat amoral gentleman---who was not confined by the strictures of film censorship that took so much of the naughty fun out of the romantic comedies of the 1930s. In addition, Raffles served to enhance and burnish Colman's enduring screen image as a sophisticated, debonair and charismatic leading man, who exuded considerable charm and romantic attractiveness. He was entering his period of greatest popularity as a film star, but his most successful and enduring cinematic accomplishments were yet to come.

While Raffles was a major success for Colman, he longed to broaden his range as an actor. As he was approaching the advance of middle age, fate and good luck combined to provide him with several interesting and challenging film roles that combined the romance and charm of his old image with a new maturity and seriousness of purpose. See, e.g. Lost Horizon, A Tale of Two Cities, The Prisoner of Zenda, Random Harvest and A Double Life to name only a few.

As for Raffles, it is an enjoyable entertainment very much of its own time---full of wit, humor, charm and action. The cast supporting Colman was first rate, the direction was deft and the narrative kept all the proceedings moving along at a brisk clip. Raffles deserves its status as an early sound classic. It is an artistic achievement that probably stands above its later remake with David Niven as the Amateur Cracksman. Raffles captures Ronald Colman at his attractive prime as a romantic man of action. Seek it out.

Cynara (pronounced as the Goldwyn publicity department insisted "SIN-ara") is an obscure film from the early Hollywood sound era. It is almost unknown today. However, Cynara was an important film in the careers of five of Cynara's principals, and for that reason is worthy of fresh reappraisal by a contemporary audience.

Samuel Goldwyn and Ronald Colman---the producer and actor made eighteen films as a team, and Cynara was their next to last venture. The partnership was becoming increasingly contentious as exemplified by the fact that Colman did not want to do this film. He felt that the role of barrister Jim Warlock, an unfaithful husband with easily compromised moral values, was inconsistent with his carefully crafted screen image of usually portraying decent, honorable and often heroic leading men. . Goldwyn supported the idea of making a film version of this London and Broadway stage success in spite of Colman's reluctance. Colman's instinct proved to be right---the film failed at the box office, and provided the ultimate basis for a permanent estrangement between the two men. They made one more film together to settle a lawsuit that resulted from their dispute, and then never worked with each other again.

King Vidor--one of Hollywood's greatest directors made his first film in 1919, and had a career as a top notch craftsman that did not end until 1959. In Cynara, Vidor took a rather somber and down-beat story and was able to turn it into a serious yet engrossing drama with complex characters involved in a realistic and believable narrative. Notwithstanding the Colman role's shady behavior and relatively ease at being tempted, King was able to to create in Warlock a man who could also be kind, warm and greatly troubled by his unethical actions. It is one of King's least typical but most accomplished films.

Henry Stephenson--the only actor from the Broadway cast to reprise his role for the film version, Stephenson was one of Hollywood's busiest and most successful British character actors. He and C. Aubrey Smith often took turns playing like parts throughout the 1930s and 1940s. Similar in age and physical appearance, Stephenson and Smith created an extensive gallery of aristocratic Englishmen that defined such characters in the minds of most American moviegoers for generations. Interestingly, they both died at the age of 85 after prolific and distinguished acting careers.

Phyllis Barry---a discovery of Goldwyn, this British dancer's most famous film role was as Doris Lea, the doomed "other woman," in Cynara. Groomed for a major Hollywood career, she never reached anything close to Goldwyn's expectations. Relegated to a succession of nondescript bit parts, she died in relative obscurity of a drug overdose while in her early 40s.

As for Cynara, it is interesting in capturing an uncharacteristic portrayal of a cad by Ronald Colman, and Kay Francis is quite good as Colman's trusting and ultimately betrayed wife. But the best part in Cynara is played by Henry Stephenson in a sly and most entertaining role as Colman's friend who helps to lead him down the road of marital infidelity with considerable demonic charm.

Seek out Cynara.. It is well worth your time and attention.

Fate conspired to bring Reilly back to Russia on an important mission that was misjudged by the British Secret Service and himself to involve only minimal personal risk. They both believed that the plan if successful could neutralize The Trust (later determined to be a Cheka "false flag" operation) and also provide them with the opportunity to further weaken and discredit Russia's Bolshevik government now led by Josef Stalin. But destiny intruded when Stalin unexpectedly ordered Reilly's capture and imprisonment for a capital crime he allegedly committed in 1918 at the height of the Russian Revolution. These events marked the beginning of the end of Reilly's long career as England's "Ace of Spies."

Although never proved, this episode indicates that Reilly was tortured in an effort to determine all the details of his planned visit. At the same time, the Russians released a cover story alleging that Reilly had died in a border skirmish when he attempted to enter the country illegally. The British did not believe the Russian story to be true, but they were unable to formulate a united plan for a rescue attempt. Ironically, Reilly's scheme actually proved to be partially successful when Stalin's decision to liquidate The Trust backfired into the loss of many Bolshevik agents worldwide and the shutdown of one of the most successful counterespionage operations in history.

In this episode, Reilly seems to be matched in importance by the actual historical.events swirling about him. The looming issue regarding how the Russians would finally resolve the "Reilly question" provides the most intriguing plot element in the episode---as Stalin and Dzherzhinsky (head of Cheka) had very different ideas about the matter. Stalin wanted him executed, but Dzherzhinsky thought that Reilly would have considerable value as an ongoing intelligence source. This battle of wills could only be reimagined by the series's writers, as there appears to be no evidence that survived to support its ultimate resolution.

The Reilly series is valuable as a sometimes inaccurate but always interesting history lesson about a significant yet little-known character from the Russian Revolution period. Reilly was charming, charismatic and entertaining. There is little doubt that he formed the basis for Ian Fleming's famous dashing hero James Bond. He also seemed to invent "from scratch" the job description for a British master spy. His life was at the center of major world events for a quarter century, and he appeared to thrive on danger and death-defying activity. It is an astonishing story that was told with great style, wit and detail. If at times some incidents in the narrative seem too hard to believe as true, the actual documented details of Reilly's life ought to provide us with the motivation to give.matter further consideration. Highly recommended.

After his failed attempt in 1918 to overthrow the new Bolshevik revolutionary government, Sidney Reilly escaped from Russia and into a personally painful period of several years in exile. Because of his highly visible counter-revolutionary activities, the Bolshevik government tried Reilly in absentia and sentenced him to death. The question posed by this fact is why in 1925 did he plan a return to Russia? The answer is twofold: (1) he was asked to go and (2) he wanted to go.

The British Secret Service was anxious to thoroughly vet The Trust, which held itself out to the world as a credible anti-Bolshevik alternative government waiting to take over Russia and depose the Communists. Actually (and unknown to England), The Trust was a fake organization under the total control of Cheka head Felix Zherzhinsky. Captain Cumming of the Secret Service asked Reilly to make a quick clandestine trip to Russia to clarify The Trust situation. Reilly agreed to go because he believed The Trust was not legitimate, and he wanted to completely discredit it.

Notwithstanding his seven year old in absentia death sentence, Reilly and Cumming both believed that the trip involved little personal risk to him, since at the same time The Trust was also seeking international credibility and monetary support. What neither apparently realized was the full extent of Stalin's megalomania, his rage at not initially being told of The Trust's existence and his overarching fear of Dzerzhinsky's encroaching power.

The episode emphasizes Reilly's compulsive hatred of the Bolsheviks, his obsessive belief that they murdered his friend Savinkov while in Cheka custody and his driven need to test The Trust by seeking its commitment to launch anti-government terrorist activities including the assassination of Stalin! It is rich in largely unfamiliar historical detail, and suggests that Stalin's absolute focus on Reilly clearly influenced the events that followed.

This episode provides a clear example of how one can actually be entertained and educated at the same time! Highly recommended.

This episode provides a useful and instructive history lesson for non-Russian specialists about a matter that the average well-informed person knows little to nothing about. What exactly was The Trust? Who created it and why? How did it manage to be so accepted by brilliant spies like Sidney Reilly that they were easily seduced into subordinating their reasonable doubts about The Trust's legitimacy and credibility?

The Trust may have been one of the most successful counter-intelligence operations in history. The "brain child" of Felix Dzherzhinsky, head of the Cheka, it was such a well-kept secret that Stalin himself was reputed to have been unaware of its existence for a considerable period of time. Stalin's reaction upon learning about The Trust was a combination of disbelief and anger toward both its enablers and participants, even though the organization's stunning embrace by non-Bolsheviks actually worked to support the Communist Revolution.

Reilly was skeptical of The Trust's bona fides, but nonetheless allowed himself to believe that it could be manipulated to British advantage, and eventually used to overthrow Stalin, get Russia to join the Allied Powers in opposing Germany and install a new non-Bolshevik government to rule an unstable Russia. Why? Reilly's analysis was obviously faulty (with the wisdom of hindsight), but it also reflects the thinking of many visionary adventurers---I.e. To believe as true what they want to so believe. It was an astonishing miscalculation by someone who rarely if ever made such a mistake.

Meanwhile, intrigue abounds! Reilly's best friend Savinkov is lured by The Trust back to Russia, Reilly attempts to enlist industrialist Henry Ford into becoming a major financial supporter of Bolshevik counterinsurgency, and in the midst of all this he meets and is smitten by an alluring woman who becomes his third wife!

Reilly's many years away from Russia seem to have taken the edge off his well-crafted spying instincts. In any event, the stage is being set for the climax of this intelligent and absorbing series.

This episode provides a transition for the activist spy Sidney Reilly, who once envisioned himself to be the next Czar of a Bolshevik-free Russia. Now he is the emigre Reilly---doomed to wander like The Flying Dutchman from London to Paris and New York---in search of self-esteem and a new life. Sentenced to death in absentia by a Russian court and treated with little respect by the British establishment, the episode ushers Reilly into a "wilderness period." He wants to continue as a high level Bolshevik irritant, while being significant in unraveling the turmoil that followed from the failed Lenin assassination attempt. Reilly was gone from Russia--but he was never forgotten.

While his associate Lockhart shared much the same adventure in escaping from Russia, he (unlike Reilly) gradually drops in importance from our story. Eventually the ailing Lenin succumbs to his injuries and dies---only to be replaced by a far more ruthless menace---Josef Stalin. Reilly himself barely dodges an assassination attempt in London, and continues to attract attention from attractive women---from the delightful prostitute known as The Plugger to the young religious mystic Caryll Houselander. All of this activity is merely the calm that precedes a much more interesting storm coming on the horizon.

Not generally noted in comments about the casting of the Reilly series is the fact that Ian Charleson played the English adventurer Bruce Lockhart. Charleson is perhaps best known to American audiences as the famous Scot runner Eric Liddell in the 1981 international hit Chariots of Fire. And Norman Rodway, a stalwart primarily of the British stage, continues to shine in his great supporting role as Cumming---Reilly's sometime superior in the often sordid but never dull world of Anglo intelligence.

While occasionally slow moving, our narrative is always interesting. Sam Neill remains a commanding presence as Sidney Reilly. And Tom Bell's Felix Dzerzhinsky is surely a close second in that department!

This episode probably comes the closest thus far in depicting the equivalent of the French Revolution's Reign of Terror to the rapidly unfolding Bolshevik uprising and takeover of the Russian government. The constant feeling of fear, menace, instability, stress and danger.is very pervasive. Also evident is the almost gratuitous cruelty visited upon the Bolshevik's unfortunate victims and the major role played by young women in the counter-revolutionary effort to remove Lenin and restore a sense of normalcy to the situation.

Reilly's grand scheme to topple Lenin and install himself as the head of a new government fails as the British are unable to deliver sufficient manpower resources to make the plan viable. As it turned out, cash alone was just not enough to seal the deal during the turmoil of this.unstable period, notwithstanding Reilly's best efforts. It is yet another illustration of that old saying---"man plans, and God laughs."

The assassination attempt on Lenin is vividly recreated in this episode, along with its destructive aftermath. One almost feels like "a fly on the wall" as these events unfold before our eyes. Life was very cheap at this moment of history.

Again we should take special note of the realistic period set design and costume design elements that contribute significantly to the realism of this episode. Reilly is almost a supporting player here, as the dramatic true-life events take center stage in the drama. This is an important and satisfying chapter in the Reilly Saga.

This is the first episode to move the Reilly saga toward the most significant period of his life---direct involvement with the 1917 Russian Revolution that toppled the Romanov dynesty and dramatically thrust the Bolsheviks into power. Sidney Reilly was Britain's man in Russia at the beginning of this confusing and unstable period of world history. His role was mainly to help restore order to the Russian government, and convince them to pursue the war against Germany as an ally of England. Lenin and the Bolsheviks had their own agenda, and it did not align with Britain's interests in the war. The situation was very fluid and dynamic---and contemplated such radical possible options as the assassination of Lenin and the.installation of a pro-British government headed by Reilly!

For the first time, we encounter one of the most significant (and least known) figures in Soviet history: Felix Dzerzhinsky. He became the head of the first two Soviet secret police organizations that dealt with post-revolution security--Cheka and its successor OGPU, both of which evolved into the better known KGB. Reilly and Dzerzhinsky will cross paths throughout the rest of the series---as Reilly became more clearly identified by the secret police as an enemy of the Revolution who obviously did not support the increasingly apparent anti-British character of Soviet policies. Dzerzhinsky was played with almost reptilian intensity by the eminent English actor Tom Bell---who had established a substantial reputation on the stage, in film and also on television. He will occupy a level of importance in the later episodes of the series that would be comparable to the Zaharov role played so vividly by the Australian actor Leo McKern in the earlier episodes.

Sam Neill's Reilly now dramatically resembles much of the character of the fictitious James Bond. It is worth contemplating how Bond might have evolved after the retirement of Roger Moore. It was at this point that Neill was considered for the Bond part, but it was offered instead to Timothy Dalton. This is an exciting and compelling episode.

This is the second of two episodes (5 and 6) that deal with Sidney Reilly's complex and intriguing plan to represent a German shipping interest in Russia with the expectation of selling new dreadnoughts to the Russian Imperial Navy while passing on crucial details of the vessels to the British government! No wonder he was often seen in public with his personal attorney in tow!

There are some interesting plot developments in this episode. We get a better picture of just how seductive Reilly was to women, as he easily beds down Count Massino's wife while setting the stage to use the Count to seal the deal for the ship sale! Another fascinating story development occurs when Reilly joins Massino and the Countess on a wild pig hunt that is quite exciting in its own right. And we get some further insight into just how convoluted Reilly's relationship was with England while he seemed to be working exclusively for the Germans!

This episode marks the last time we will have a meaningful visit with Reilly's long-suffering first wife Margaret---except for a very brief appearance rhat she makes in the final chapter. Considering just how stirring it was for both of them when they met in the series's first episode, her departure from the story seems almost expedient and perfunctory. Such is life with Reilly!

Once again the viewer gets a feast for the eyes with the truly splendid period costumes used to enhance the narrative's reality. The sets are equally compelling.

While some believe that Zaharov is like a father image to Reilly, at the end of this episode we will have serious doubts that Zaharov felt the same way! It is also now obvious that Reilly has surpassed Zaharov in the skills required to succeed at a top level in the game of high stakes intrigue.

With this episode, Reilly has come the closest yet to developing a character comparable to the later James Bond. Very watchable.

A small group of films exists to prove that art can sometimes survive and succeed under the most adverse of circumstances. These movies were conceived with the best of intentions and the fond expectation that each might become a genuine timeless masterpiece. However, along the creative road to production, these films came face-to-face with such unpleasant realities as small-minded and uninspired financial backers, cowardly studio executives, corrupt and compromised writers and pedestrian editors. What had first started as a plan to achieve a true work of art incidental to a journey toward anticipated critical (and hopefully commercial) success eventually emerged in an often truncated and mutilated form as something very different. Yet under the right set of circumstances, this generally destructive process could sometimes produce a genuine work of art in spite of itself.

Among examples of such films, these are perhaps the most famous: Orson Welles's The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), John Huston's The Red Badge of Courage (1951), Orson Welles's Touch of Evil (1958) and Elaine May's A New Leaf (1970). How did these movies eventually become celebrated notwithstanding the damage they had to endure before being seen by a live audience? Possibly, their success can be explained by fact that they began life at a high artistic level, and had the good fortune to eventually emerge with enough of that greatness still able to be recognized by a discerning audience.

Why is it that Two Weeks in Another Town (TWIAT)---which suffered many production indignities similar to the films just cited---was less successful in achieving its own cinematic stardom? There are probably many reasons to explain its downward trajectory, but the most obvious one is that even in its original uncut form---TWIAT was a somewhat weak melodrama involving a generally unlikable and uninteresting group of people who were engaged in activities that often were just unable to compel our attention. Hollywood movies about movie-making only seem to work when we tend to care about the characters and their story. See, e.g. The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), Sunset Boulevard (1950) and A Star Is Born (1937). The "magic" of these films is just not present in TWIAT and it is quite challenging to create in the first place.

TWIAT had a lot going for it---mainly a strong cast and a highly successful director. But in the end "the play's the thing," and without a compelling story and group of characters, a movie like TWIAT cannot easily survive the significant editing issues that marked its troubled history. After recently viewing TWIAT, I appreciate all the more the unique accomplishments realized by the other mentioned Hollywood films about Hollywood---and the considerable difficulty that it took to make these films succeed as cinematic art.

Humphrey Bogart gave us his great "Psychopath Trilogy" in the short space of only six years: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), In a Lonely Place (1950) and The Caine Mutiny (1954). The first (and probably the best known and most admired of the three films) involved Bogart's memorable creation Fred C. Dobbs. He was a decidedly paranoid and disturbed man with clearly defined anti-social tendencies, who also often talked to himself when agitated. The third (which presented perhaps the most pathetic and sympathetic of the three leading man roles) introduced us to the famous Captain Queeg----a middle aged veteran naval officer who had been in one too many battles, and as a result slowly became unhinged in the performance of his normal duties to the point that a sober but foolish subordinate officer instigated the title mutiny. But the second (and least known film in the trilogy) challenged Bogart to perform probably the most complex and difficult character of the three movies as screenwriter Dix Steele-----a man of considerable warmth, taste and sensitivity who was also saddled with a.dangerous and violent nature that could suddenly erupt into actions that were highly reckless and sometimes quite destructive in their consequences.

In a Lonely Place (IALP) featured a mature and almost charismatic individual, who under the right set of circumstances could project significant charm and likability. But if Steele were ever confronted by an unexpected issue that upset him and stressed him out------his nature could undergo a traumatic and often menacing change for the worse. IALP's story spins a tale about how such a character reacted to personal problems that arose when he fell in love with a budding actress named Laurel Gray (played winningly by Gloria Grahame). As Bogart's psychopathic writer gets deeper into his relationship with Laurel and finds himself becoming dominated by conflicted feelings involving a lack of trust that leads to furious rage-----he descends into an unpleasant world of violence. In IALP, Bogart revealed his great art as an actor by making it completely believable for Steele to go from a pleasant fellow to an off-putting monster without loosing a beat. It is a spectacular performance-----one of his very best. Lauren Bacall was originally sought to play Laurel-----but Warner Brothers would not agree to the loan out arrangement. This fortuitous circumstance allowed the often underestimated Grahame to play perhaps the finest part of her career------certainly much better than her Oscar awarded role in The Bad and the Beautiful (1952).

IALP is one of Nicholas Ray's most celebrated films, and he also contributed (uncredited) to the engrossing screenplay by Andrew Solt. IALP has a strong supporting cast featuring Frank Lovejoy, Jeff Donnell, Art Smith and Carl Benton Reid. Only Robert Warwick as the alcoholic elderly Shakespearian actor is a distraction with his somewhat over the top performance. The cinematography of Burnett Guffey should be singled out for special praise with its moody black and white presentation.

IALP is a film that Bogart wanted to make, and he gives us in Dix Steele a character that probably comes the closest to reflecting his real life persona. Perhaps this may explain why Bogart did not particularly like the movie. In any event, IALP is a major artistic and critical success that has continued to gain in stature since its initial release. How much of Dix Steele ultimately crept into Bogart's later conception of Captain Queeg is a question best left to the consideration of his many appreciative fans.