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Although billed as a guest, Rathbone is actually a major player in this labored farce. Despite ploddingly pedestrian direction and unfunny dialogue, the film still manages to held one's interest, thanks mainly to the game efforts of the players (particularly Quinn O'Hara) and the use of American-International's standing horror sets (which certainly give the movie "class"). The songs also are catchy enough, although it's Nancy Sinatra who provides the stand-out number, "Geronimo". She then, alas, disappears as the spotlight shifts to the nubile Quinn O'Hara. I'm not complaining, but it would have been nice to see more of Nancy as well. Karloff fans will also be disappointed as the king of menace is given little to do but comment on the action from time to time. Oddly, although everything has been thrown into the pot in a desperate attempt to make the picture as appealing as possible, contemporary audiences stayed away. For all its heavy-handedness, however, the movie bears at least a little bemused watching. And, as said, it's an absolute must-see for Nancy Sinatra and Quinn O'Hara fans.

Comedy noir would seem to be a contradiction in terms, but there are in fact movies in this vein that deserve serious attention, particularly The Ladykillers (1955). Produced for Michael Balcon by the multi-talented Seth Holt, and easily ranking as the most ingratiating LOL movie of all time, this wittily-plotted, thoroughly macabre comedy is propelled by a superb cast led by the redoubtable Katie Johnson in the best (and second last) role of her entire career. Her superlative performance (she won the British Academy Award for Best Actress) is aided by a stellar support cast in which Alec Guinness, Cecil Parker and especially Danny Green, shine.

Comedy noir would seem to be a contradiction in terms, but there are in fact movies in this vein that deserve serious attention, particularly The Ladykillers (1951). A much lesser entry, however, is Universal's 1940 release, Half a Sinner, in which a none-too-flatteringly photographed and costumed Heather Angel is pursued not only by comic cops and comic crooks but by smiling bland man, John King. The second last of over 400 films (many of them shorts) directed by comedy giant, Al Christie, this Trouble with Harry/Midnight Manhunt effort is somewhat repetitious but pleasant enough to talk during and even come late for. The players do what they can with their something-borrowed (cf. the overcoat device in Manhattan Melodrama), something-thin material, but only Clem Bevans, Tom Dugan, William B. Davidson and ever-reliable Constance Collier really shine.

In the classic vein of the noirish mystery thriller, The Night Has Eyes is "written and directed" by Leslie Arliss, who does such absolute wonders on the small sound stages at Welwyn Garden Studios, we never have the impression that this is anything else but an extremely high budget picture. Arliss is given marvelous assistance by art director Duncan Sutherland and perfectionist lighting cameraman Gunther Krampf. The stand-out cast is led by James Mason as the moody recluse, Mary Clare as his well-wishing housekeeper, Joyce Howard as the heroine, Tucker McGuire as her man-crazy friend, and playwright John Fernald (who collaborated with director Arliss on additional dialogue) in the first of only two appearances in front of the camera, as the helpful doctor. The beginning and end of the climactic sequence rate as two of the most unforgettable moments in world cinema.

In his autobiography, Yakima Canutt doesn't mention They Never Come Back (1932) in which he obviously doubled for Regis Toomey in the hard-hitting boxing scenes. And no wonder! It's a time-wasting movie despite the presence of an attractive female threesome in the persons of Dorothy Sebastian, Greta Granstedt and Gertrude Astor. The male players, on the other hand, are strictly from hunger. It's enough to say that Kit Guard, in an uncredited role as Toomey's second, walks away with the big boys' acting honors. The boring script also rates as unintentionally ridiculous and Fred Newmeyer's direction (or rather lack of direction) totally inept.

I was pleasantly surprised by Prison Train (1938) in which director Gordon Wiles, of all people, makes such an ingenious use of his real locations, stock footage and second-string cast that the result is quite a thrilling film noir which can be favorably compared with The Narrow Margin, despite its muscle budget. Dorothy Comingore comes across well as the pleasing heroine, while Peter Potter does okay as the obliging hero, but the movie's stand-out performance is delivered by Clarence Muse who makes the most of his best role ever as one of the villain's heavies on the train. Photographer Marcel Le Picard who worked on nearly 200 movies (despite a four year break in the middle of his career, 1934-1937) also does some mightily impressive noirish work here, and the film editing of Edward Schroeder likewise rates as a stand-out. Train buffs, of course, will need no encouragement to watch this movie and they too will be thrilled far more than their modest expectations.

Perennial second-from-the-left-cop-in-the-station-house, George Guhl, has a featured role, would you believe, in Monogram's 1941 tale, Murder by Invitation, which turns out to be a sort of Mrs Longfellow Deeds Meets the Cat and the Canary. With halfway competent direction and a halfway appropriate budget, this may well have turned out as sleeper of the year. The money is there all right, but Phil Rosen's direction is strictly from hunger. The picture's potential is unrealized. Obviously left largely to their own devices, the players do what they can to salvage the film. Although inclined to over-act, I thought Sarah Padden carried off the main role with a fair amount of conviction, although other reviewers disagree. George Guhl was a big letdown, and I was also disappointed that Marian Marsh was simply just another pretty blonde in this outing and no longer the charismatic charmer of Beauty and the Boss.

One of the best of Hulbert's pictures, and certainly the most extravagantly produced, this is 80 minutes of fun all the way. It's also a must for all Egyptologists and airplane buffs. Our only complaint: only two songs, but both of them beauties. A rousing march song: "Sons of the sand/We're brave and bold to a man/We rob and kill where we can/Along the trail of the caravan." And a wonderfully amusing song-and-dance in which Hulbert does some of the craziest jigs imaginable.

Whether double-taking his way out of embarrassing confrontations with Peter Gawthorne (the scene in which he distracts the colonel in order to recover the goatskin bag from a locked valise is a classic), or imperiling the heroine, unintentionally outwitting the villain, or simply spoofing Beau Geste, Hulbert is priceless. His unabashed cheekiness, his bravado (both real and mock), his romantic daring, endear him to every picturegoer who feels that the days of the meek, put-upon, Fate-tossed comedian are numbered. Hulbert makes his own fate. True, his stupidity is a hindrance to his ambitions, but at best he seems only half aware of any mental shortcomings. Certainly he doesn't let his shortage of brains stop him in his unwavering pursuit of both career and romantic success. And he can dance and sing too. Anna Lee makes an appealing, perkily resourceful heroine, Peter Gawthorne is his usual delightfully irascible authority figure, whilst Hartley Power does the honors as the welcoming heavy.

The locations are brilliantly utilized as backgrounds to the comedy. They include a wild car chase from the Great Pyramid to Cairo, a hectic lunch in the exotic gardens of Shepheard's Hotel, and a climactic chase and attack in the desert in which Hulbert, Lee and their dummies hold off the marauders from an abandoned fort.

Briskly directed and beautifully photographed, The Camels Are Coming is a model of movie craftsmanship. Odd that it was never released in the United States because just about all its main technicians were offered Hollywood contracts including director Tim Whelan (who had actually worked with Harold Lloyd), photographer Glen MacWilliams (who went to 20th Century-Fox), editor Fred Smith (who was signed to a 20-year contract with MGM), producer Robert Stevenson and writer Guy Bolton.

This obvious attempt by RKO to duplicate the success of "Cimarron" (1930) actually succeeds, despite all the odds against it. The budget is only half for a start (and so is the running time) but it's still very lavishly produced. Secondly, heroine Margot Grahame is certainly no Irene Dunne, but she's a very capable and highly sympathetic player nonetheless. Thirdly, the movie lacks an epic stampede but it still manages some really vigorous action sequences including a knock-out climax which has echoes of the famous gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Actor Richard Dix's manly presence is just right for the Wyatt Earp character, while Louis Calhern plays the slimy villain with all the fascination of an utterly vicious yet superficially elegant snake. Preston Foster was always better at the badman-turned-goodie (or vice versa) type of role and is in his element here. The support players include such dyed-in-the-wool villains as Joe Sawyer and even Marc Lawrence, whilst that perennial soak, Francis Ford, is all nicely dressed up here and hardly recognizable as the well-groomed mayor. Etta McDaniel also gets a chance to shine. Director Vidor handles the film's many action scenes with a bold and vigorous hand that will have even the most jaded western fans cheering.

The first Astaire-Rogers vehicle to actually lose money on first release ($68,000, a mere drop in the bucket, but still...) and there's a good reason why. Only four songs and dance numbers, including a solo for Fred. Nonetheless, although the accent definitely veers toward story rather than song, it's an interesting and amusing vehicle in which Ginger and Fred not only acquit themselves most ably (Ginger looks great in her Howard Greer costumes) but are supported by a first-rate group of players headed by old friends like eager Jack Carson and irascible Clarence Kolb plus a charming comedian in Luella Gear. Character spots are filled by well-known faces like Edward Gargan as the cop with the nightstick, Franklin Pangborn as a fussy little skeet judge, and Walter Kingsford in his customary role as a doctor. Director Mark Sandrich can be spotted as the golf caddy in the first shot at the country club with Fred and Finlayson.

A definite must for railway buffs (in fact it would easily figure on the top ten), thanks to the wholehearted co-operation of the Great Western Railway which has produced some absolutely staggering scenes and effects. Aside from a bit of obvious under cranking right at the very beginning of the movie, technical credits are extremely proficient. Direction and camera-work strike even a casual viewer as especially skillful. The script is serviceable enough too, though some of the players, particularly Julien Mitchell as the mad engineer, are inclined to over-do things a little. Olga Lindo is also a bit of a pain as the overly sympathetic wife, but that's the fault of the script. Judy Gunn makes a pleasant heroine, and it's nice to see Eve Gray laying on the charm as a confidence girl.

Nice to see a surprisingly young Fernandel singing (yes, singing!) his way through a typical French farce. Highlights are the title number, most ingratiatingly sung by Fernandel himself against a delightful background bevy of chorus girls and an absolutely hilarious episode in which the countess picks on Fernandel as her lover for the night, but then decides on a more handsome visitor who happens to wander into her château, only to re-instate Fernandel in her bed when the handsome visitor declines her offer. These household re-arrangements involve much packing and unpacking of Fernandel's effects, aided by a delightfully snooty servant whose helpfulness (or unhelpfulness) is dictated strictly by his mistress' current humor.