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All superheros must have an origin story. Perry Mason -- who never lost a case and never had a guilty client -- is the courtroom equivalent of Superman. Since Perry did not come to earth when the planet Krypton exploded and he was not bitten by a radioactive spider as a teenager, his story is going to be a little different.

Erle Stanley Gardner, the writer of the original Mason books, never came up with a backstory for Perry. From the first novel, his clients were innocent, his tactics edgy, his victories complete and total. While that leaves a clear pathway for an intrepid filmmaker to come up with any past he likes, any author has to figure out how to make Perry Perry.

In this opener, Mason is a low rent PI who sabotages himself by being greedy in an unsavory case. We see him in a courtroom sequence (where he testifies) in which it is clear he has a good sense of courtroom tactics. Mostly, though, we see him drink, conduct a sleazy investigation, fail to shave, and show his tattoo to his special friend while having painful sex. We are a long way from Raymond Burr.

Nonetheless, the atmosphere isn't out of line from the first few volumes of the Mason books. Gardner wrote for the leading private eye pulp of his day, The Black Mask -- the same place where Dashiell Hammett created Sam Spade -- and his books depict a police force and DA department where the rules are regularly ignored so that defendants can be railroaded. Sgt. Holcomb -- the awful policeman who appears in this episode -- was the lead police character in the Mason books of the 30s.

Mason in the books has a fierce sense of social justice. ESG himself created something called the Court of Last Resort, which was a small scale version of the Innocence Project If there is a key to Mason's character -- it is this sense that the system left to itself will railroad people, and it's his job to stop that from happening. Our character is not there yet. I am hoping we will see that happen as we move forward.

Dashing explorer Rod LaRoque, married to dashing aviatrix Leni Riefenstahl, gets stuck on an iceberg floating out to sea. Leni crashes her plane on that same iceberg, so she gets stuck too. Will the radio message "SOS ICEBERG" bring anyone to save them, or will they die of arctic cold and Luke-warm plot?

Well, this one is odd, and not worth much of an effort, despite some breathtaking visuals. The plot, involving some reckless and stupid arctic adventurers, a series of poor decisions, and a wanton disregard for wearing gloves in cold weather, makes it impossible to care much about the fix these dingbats are in. And the last scene, involving a five mile hike/swim to an Eskimo village, is too absurd to deal with without giggling. If I am going to suspend my disbelief willingly, I need something to hold onto, and could not find it here.

This is the only movie you'll find where Leni Riefenstahl speaks English. She doesn't say much, and her acting isn't too embarrassing. One imagines an alternate history where she makes a big splash (among other things, she is a looker), and stays in the US, and doesn't make Triumph of the Will. Problem is, this movie was never fated to make anyone a star. The only person who makes any attempt at stealing the film is Gibson Gowland (from Greed), whose hirsute villainy is more repellent than attractive.

Wendell Corey, the son of a forcibly retired politician, is appointed as a caretaker Senator. Is he fit to do battle in THE ARENA that is the US Senate, with the help of veteran aide Chester Morris?

Chester Morris is one of those actors whose reputation might be helped if there weren't a Turner Classic Movies. This is because, in the 40s, Mr. Morris often starred as the obnoxious Boston Blackie, who, when not solving his crimes in black-face (yes, really), smirked his way through a lot of stupid comic mysteries. And those are the movies TCM keeps playing.

To this role, Morris brings what is often visible in his 30s movies, an always present surface cockiness, tempered by experience. Here, he has to attempt to play the worldly counselor to a daddy's boy senator, who might be a good man, if he can just escape his father's influence. He nails the part (which is written beautifully) and helps turn a somewhat preachy script into something more interesting. Wendell Corey gives an average performance, and others are just fine too.

Of course, the show ends with a moral crisis, solved happily. In the politics of 2016, rest assured the morally pleasing answer Mr. Serling gives us would not have been considered by any politician actually thinking of his future. For that reason, the ending may seem too pat to modern audiences. Not sure that is a judgment a 1956 viewer would have made.

Harry Langdon was well past his big money starring days by the time he made this short subject, but he had not outlasted his talent. By this time, Harry had figured out how to make his character work in talkies, and the only shame is that this one is pretty unknown and hard to see.

In short, Harry is his usual childish dimwit -- with a 40's patriotic fervor to do the right thing, but somewhat at a loss at how to do the right thing. Through the writing skills of Clyde Bruckman (who is busily raiding the comedy attics of all the comedians he has worked for), Harry figures it out, but not before providing some good laughs (and the occasional pratfall.) The final sequence is a standout, as is the three or four minutes where Harry becomes a guinea pig for his wife's first aid class.

Much better than most Columbia shorts of the period.

Snub Pollard, an Okie tired of frequent tornadoes, decides to haul all of his worldly goods and his wife to a better land. It is California OR BUST, but what's more likely, California, or bust?

I can see how the other reviewer saw a six minute version -- this is a movie that breaks down easily in several parts. Fortunately, all the parts are chock full of funny, imaginative gags, as well as an interesting view of the privations of long distance auto travel in 1923. A conflict with Jimmmy Finlayson at an auto camp (forerunner to the trailer parks) presages many similar conflicts Stan and Ollie would have with the angry Mr. Finlayson. Other gags tend to be very elaborate and feature Rube Goldberg style inventions.

The long version is very worth finding.

Larry Semon is a government man who has volunteered to get the goods on Notorious Nora, the smokin hot amazon running the rackets in town. Will he get fair lady to scream "O WHAT A MAN" when he subjects her to his thrill comedy variety of daring do? Or will the male gangsters kill them all?

This is late in Semon's career, when the critics and the audiences had begun to realize that he was repeating himself. And, so, he repeats himself again. Let's do the checklist.

Is there an embarrassing moment of egregious racial humor? Yep. And its really bad, too.

Does the first reel have some promising comedy that suggests that if Semon had just stopped with the spectacular stuff, he might have been a funnier minor comic? Yes.

Is there a tough woman to share Larry's adventures with him, and is she given the chance to steel the movie from him? Yes, this most appealing feature of the Semon filmography is very much in evidence here, and the lady lead makes good use of the opportunity. She also gets some funny gags in reel one.

Is the spectacular second reel spectacular? No -- looks like the budget for that sort of thing has been cut. If you've seen more than a couple Semon movies, you've seen the type of stunting recycled here. Semon really is an action director miscast as an comedy director and, had he lived into the sound era, he might have made a transition into Republic thrill a minute serials.

Is there any humor involving ink or mud? Surprisingly, no.

Does Semon pointlessly play a second role in stupid makeup? Thankfully, no.

So, not the worst Semon, but probably not the best introduction to him. His best work has Oliver Hardy, a large budget, and planes, trains, cars and motorcycles doing breathtaking (if not necessarily funny) things.

Three heavy fellows live at a boardinghouse, as does a pretty girl and her old maid sister. The Tons of Fun (yes, that's how these guys were billed) end up getting ALL TIED UP at the justice of the peace trying to get themselves wed to two of them. Will the intrepid writers run out of fat jokes they can use before the two reels are over?

Those who bemoan the sorry state of comedy today because they just sat through a bad Saturday Night Live skit really need to sit through ghastly efforts like this one just to see that there has always been bad, unfunny comedy stretched out to ghastly lengths. There is a funny bit at the end of this one (involving an episode of stomach bumping), but mostly loads of "hilarity" based on the idea that fat is just funny and fat rear ends are funnier. Though this thing really stinks, still, of the few Tons of Fun efforts I have seen, this is probably the funniest.

Ben Turpin, Sennett's best walking sight gag, gets a gun and a wife, and misuses both. Will a sneaky other man alienate his wife's affections, while Turpin wanders around in the woods shooting at stuff as THE WILD GOOSE CHASER?

Ben Turpin's comedy in the 20s generally amounted to standing around with his amazing crossed eyes, and having things happen to him, that are completely incongruous because of the crossed eyes. This can be funny enough, but not usually for the entire length of a two reeler. This one seems pretty typical, and is pretty ordinary. The reminder of the gags are standard order Sennett, with people falling around and getting stuck in the mud.

One of the less inspired ideas from the low budget comedy factories was an overweight trio of comics that were billed the "Tons O' Fun". That is about the level of inspiration on this short, which gets its merriment by showing our heroes getting their ample behinds swatted. Oh, and there is the bit with the cow being milked under water and the kerosene getting blown up. And, since this is a general store plot less comedy, everyone gets hit with bags of flour. The only happy point in the whole show is it looks like everyone drowns at the end in a basement full of applejack.

Alpha Video has this short. Don't look it up.

A pleasant looking but slightly goofy comic finds out he will get a million dollars if he marries in 48 hours. If producer Joe Rock is sued by Buster Keaton, will his kids be screaming WHAT, NO SPINACH?

This is a funny short, which lifts its plot, and its general sensibility from Buster Keaton, which automatically makes it better than the usual run of minor two reelers. The fun here is less in the rather good looking comic -- who is really obscure -- but the mobs of females of all types who mob our hero. Again, the idea is very stolen, but the ladies act more like the Cops in another Keaton classic, and the combination of all this. pilfered Buster turns out to be a worthwhile fifteen minutes

Jimmy Aubrey meeting the need of a populace who was waiting on Charlie's next big picture, dodges gang bangers and a series of pretty young athletic ladies working out and doing a random Isadora Duncan dance. Are Vitagraph title writers really tacky enough, therefore, to label this mishmash "The Chicken Parade"?

Comedy back in silent two reeler days was available in large quantities, and the second and third rank vendors produced stuff that was hugely variable. This one, oddly enough, is funny, because the comic understands timing, and actually gets the "dancer" part of the Chaplin persona and makes good use of it. The gags are simpler, for the most part, and in some places seem more Tex Avery than Chaplin. But one could see an alternate career path for Chaplin which produced movies that would have looked a lot like this.

Worth a look.

Leon Errol is a befuddled bridegroom about to get hitched to a moderately pretty lass. If he can only get to the church on time. Can Leon make it, or will various Kops, mules, Tin Lizzies, and staircases get in the way?

One thinks of Errol as the star of middling talkie two reelers, giving a over-aged rogue character a series of poor and so so gags. This silent, featuring a younger (but still pretty old and balding Errol) a chance to engage in Keystone-ish slapstick. He takes a pratfall well, and would have been better than John Cleese in the Monty Python ministry of silly walks skit. But nothing here is all that brilliant, and whatever they were cheering at the Ziegfield Follies isn't much in evidence. Still, it's interesting to see what the back roads of New Jersey looked like in 1916.

Lloyd Hamilton has a following among silent comedy buffs, but a misunderstood Buster Keaton he isn't. In this one, he has a Popeye Bluto competition with another taxi driver for a very pretty girl, and later, there's a football game. Will his continued BLAZING AWAY at making himself a silent comedy star result in at least some dates with the young pretty?

The movie is an excuse for a series of OK-ish gags, and rampant violation of the rules of football (and basic physics) for the sake of gags. Some of the gags are pretty funny, and the views of the American road, circa 1928, are priceless. So worth the time, even if the comic seems to have very little personality.

Ralph Meeker is a vet who has headaches, blackouts, and the alarming things that in classic cinema make him an easy target for a suspicious cop. Paul Henreid, the suspicious cop, is ready to toss the guy into a prison cell. Can A WOMAN'S DEVOTION, supplied by Janice Rule, keep Meeker out of a nasty prison in beautiful Acapulco?

This is one of those films that gets called noir -- in this case because the plot, featuring a vet who have gone bad, seems to cry out for black and white photography, bleak cynicism, and gun play amongst the Venetian blinds. But it really does not belong in that category -- partly because the focus of the picture is really on a well acted cat and mouse game between Paul Henreid -- playing a bitter Mexican cop to perfection -- and Janice Rule, who is a devoted wife, but a smart one, determined to get her husband out of the mess that is slowly surrounding him. The other star, one rendered in Republic's Technicolor variant, is Acapulco, which is seedier than what one usually sees in the movies.

The film starts slowly -- because Henreid (the director) is determined to show happiness between Rule and Meeker -- and he is also giving himself time to establish the true sour core of his character. The result is once the mystery elements finally get going, we actually feel for these characters, and that makes the (alas) inevitable end that more powerful.

Yet another scarce film that needs a release, but does not have the obvious hook for it. And the next time TCM does a Paul Henreid retrospective, they need to find this one. His direction draws out the best in his actors (except for Meeker, who misplays his part in the later reels). His own acting seems inspired by being cast a bit against type.

Rod LaRocque, known as CAPTAIN SWAGGER, to his friends in society, has finally gone broke 10 years after his heroism in the Great War? Will he be able to keep up his appearances as a gentleman in New York's smart set if he embarks on a career of armed robbery?

This lightweight bit of fluff just misses being an excellent comedy, and is a worthy forbear to those thirties movies where rich people with immaculate tuxedos, and no visible means of support, wander around drinking, trading wisecracks, and finding the perfect girl. The problem is, as with a lot of the 30s movies like this one, is that there just is no visible chemistry between the leads, or any semblance of reality about the goings on. Too bad, because LaRocque is as good as I have seen him in the films, showing a charm and grace of movement that comes close to suggesting a silent Fred Astaire. (He dances rather well in a sequence that probably had a soundtrack once upon a time, but does not now). If you just want a sample, the beginning of the film, happening in a WWI fantasy-land that is just so Hollywood, shows LaRocque playing straight comedy, and Ronald Coleman like daring-do that seems very far removed from the grim trench warfare usually seen in WWI movies.

After we get away from the War, we get a blah love plot, and decent comedy around our hero's less than brilliant scheme to commit robbery. As is typical, the better moments occur when the somewhat lame plot does not intrude.

All in all, worth a watch if you would like to see what a silent Astaire/Rogers movie might have looked like. For those who notice that the character's name is "Hugo Drummond", you will be disappointed. This is not a typical Bulldog Drummond adventure, though I believe this may have come from a plot by "Sapper".

Pretty Sally Blaine has been locked out of her apartment by the mean old landlady. Will she have to get arrested for solicitation to get a warm bed, or will three nice old derelicts (led by Henry B. Walthall) in CITY PARK save her from a jail record and who knows what else?

Henry B. Walthall was a gift to low budget movie makers in the early thirties, enlivening countless cheapo flicks with excellent, rather sad performances of people who have, for one reason or another, seemed to have passed their prime. In this one, Walthall seems to be channeling George Arliss, as his hero is not just well-meaning, but effective and determined to bring together a pair of young lovers by the end of the movie.

The dramatic tension is caused by a couple of things. One of them is Walthall's good natured, tactically clever, but utterly mistaken intervention in Sally Baline's love life. The other is the mystery of who exactly Walthall is. Both these little mysteries, and Walthall's strong performance, keep this from being a dreary piece of sentimental ickyness.

This is pre-code, but there is not much girls in undress or rampant immorality. However, there is no attempt to conceal that the prostitute with the heart of gold really is a prostitute, and isn't giving up the profession. (This becomes a plot point and the end of the show.)

Like most Bs produced by Chesterfield in the early 30s, this isn't brilliant, but is worth seeing.

Lawyer Richard Dix knows when a rich man's whiny son, Elisha Cook Jr, gets a snootful of the good stuff, and then gets behind the wheel, THE DEVIL IS DRIVING. But, when his career is on the line, will he sacrifice his career, or the safety of the general public?

This is one of those ripped from the headlines movies that can be real good with the right kind of star, and a script that is interesting. Alas, though, this is much fun as a prohibitionist tract on the dangers of drinking, and the plot is full of non- surprises. Dix tries -- but he is not at his best in a crusading attorney role. Elsha Cook (who has all his hair and looks so young here) does well as the creepy little son who never draws a sober breath outside of a courtroom. But, most of the movie is preaching, and more preaching against DUI. A worthy cause, but dull cinema.

So, unless you believe that any movie with Richard Dix (or Elisha Cook) has redeeming social value, you can pass on this one.

In 24 HOURS, Clive Brook drinks, Miriam Hopkins sings, Kay Francis suffers, and Regis Toomey acts. Only two of them will survive to the end of this engrossing movie. Can those two find happiness, or at least a little recognition for their fine performances?

It's always a surprise to find a gem hiding in a shady corner of the internet, and distressing to find that the only way to discover this one is through a wanton copyright violator (now shut down). In this case -- I think the reason for the obscurity is lack of TCM exposure, and a copyright owner who has not found the hook to release an 83 year old movie, because the director isn't Wellman, Hawks, Lubitsch, Ford, or Curtiz, and the stars, while certainly well enough loved by fans of the pre-code, don't get a lot of notice today.

This is a real shame, in this case, because this one is a real find, helped by the very strong acting and a plot with a strong strain of melancholy, and sense of doom which. with the striking photography, suggests film noir. Colin Clive and Regis Toomey are responsible for a lot of arid celluloid, but in this case, the director has drawn out strong performances out of both of them. Kay Francis delivers a good performance out of the one thankless role (the suffering wife), and Miriam Hopkins does real well with the nightclub singer who has more personality than voice.

I'm sure the movie will reappear again -- as long as copyright owners bury their lest well-known product -- violators of 80 year old copyrights will flourish. But, really, this one deserves a reissue in a shining new print. Olive Films? Criterion Collection? TCM? Universal? How about it?

Don Castle, one of those slightly decent people earning his money in a slightly shady racket, comes up against an INVISIBLE WALL keeping him from happiness and success because he can't conquer a gambling problem. Can ingénue Virginia Christine, with the slightly shady past and the prior unfortunate marriage, save him from the dark fate that awaits most noir heroes?

This one is one a watcher really would like to like better -- given the location shooting at the Flamingo in Las Vegas -- but this one really starts off dull and predictable -- and only starts dishing out the wacky plot twists in the second half. Some of the twists are good ones -- but the ones at the very end suggest the lesser Cornell Woolrich stories with happy endings. You just don't buy the elaborate way the movie gets its lead out of the mess he's in.

Leads are OK. Direction is straightforward. It's a decent B, no worse than many similar movies with better reputations. But, unless you want to see film of Bugsy Siegel's famous casino just after its opening, there is no reason to seek this one out.

Pacifist Franchot Tone marries émigré (!?) Veronica Lake. Franchot won't go to war. Veronica is fighting a clandestine war for Adolf Hitler. Will Franchot survive the mental trauma of THE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN of his consciousness that fair Veronica has been up too Nazi accented no good?

Usually, a Somerset Maugham story will adapt well to the screen, and offers its actors to play a character of a little more depth than usual. While Franchot, playing a pacifist of real principles, gets a good role (and does well with it), somebody at Paramount really had it in for Veronica Lake (or, at least, her star image), and she is stuck with a cardboard Nazi to play, and, rather shockingly, some of the most convoluted hair styles ever. I guess Washington was serious, when they decreed that the Lake hairstyle (which, when imitated, allegedly got caught in factory machinery) was a threat to the war effort. Because, there is no peekaboo hair here. Just Pipp Longstocking braids, wound around her head in odd patterns.

The plot here is how a decent guy and pacifist come around to being a bomber pilot, taking the war to the Nazis. It's all rather corny, unfortunately, and some of the plot twists belong in a Repubic serial, rather than a picture that is intended to be serious.

A young archaeologist, maneuvered into an engagement he does not quite want, encounters a stunning blonde with a German accent and decides to kick over the traces, much to the surprise of anyone (except, maybe, the blonde). He becomes agitated when the young lady's colorful past starts to intrude itself on his comfortable existence, and is truly appalled when he has the true PORTRAIT OF A SINNER. Will our hero nonetheless benefit from his dance with his dark side, or will our heroine drag him into the mire of her turbulent world?

There is a lot of good in this little bit of Brit Noir, including a script that is a lot more adult than usual for 1959. Since the adult bits are handled with wit, it comes across as sophisticated (and funny) rather than coarse. William Bendix, as the vulgar fellow who may or may not be our femme fatale's employer, adds some unique art design, as well as quite a good performance, to the mix. Also featured is some really good repartee. The problem is that there really is not all that much going on here, other than the tale of a lucky young man who wants a little naughty with his luck, before he takes up his rightful place in society. As a result, you might find yourself just a shade disappointed at the end of it all, despite the obvious talent involved.

Hugh Beaumont -- suffering from MONEY MADNESS -- and a variety of other pathologies, runs to a small town and romances a small town girl to put in motion his unique (and ingenious) plot to launder his stolen 200 grand. How many people will he have to murder before law or fate catch up with him?

Though this is forgotten by everyone except the rare brave few who go and seek out the B-minus classics issued by PRC and, um, "Film Classics" - this film's distributor -- Hugh Beaumont, before he was father to the Beaver, acted in a fair number of minor film noirs, where he tended to play cops, detectives, and the occasional murderer. In this one, Beaumont brings his trademark likability, and family man charm to the role of a deceptive, conniving creep, on the run from the cops, and his co-conspirators in a successful bank job. And this movie turns on his unshowy but quite strong performance, as the plot depends on him being able to pretend to be "Ward" just long enough to get the heroine into his clutches, and then depends on him being the sort of Ward Cleaver that David Lynch might have used, had he got his hands on the Leave It To Beaver franchise.

It's cheap -- and the last plot twist is a bit much to take -- but it's always good to see an actor use his skills for something he's not usually known for, and succeed. There was more to Hugh Beaumont than his film/TV career really let him show, and this movie is a prime exhibit.

A mad scientist wants to turn a millionaire into an ape. Can detective Walter Catlett avoid a similar simian fate when the mad scientist tells him "YOU'RE NEXT"

Bad shorts even happened to Laurel & Hardy, so one can't get too upset over this collection of unfunny jokes. The racist bits are worse than typical for the 40s, though, which argues that obscurity is the best fate for this. Catlett does show he is better than the material -- acting his part like he's in His Girl Friday -- but he is let down by the whole cheapness of the Columbia short subject milieu. I'm not sure why Del Lord fell so far off form for this, though.

For short subject fans only.

Lily Damita, a successful businesswoman and pre-code hottie, is married to OP Heggie, aging millionaire, who can't bring himself to admit his luck. When a passionate young man woos her, despite the wedding ring, how will poor Lily escape the scandal of being THE WOMAN BETWEEN?

Fans of pre-code will likely enjoy this, as it features the slightly tawdry soapy plot and the well dressed (right down to their underthings) women these things often have. The hard life a woman who has married money, but wants to be loved for herself (and not her hotness) and respected has been movie fodder for years, and the familiarity of the goings on, experienced in 30s dress, provides the fascination in this movie. The main question -- which does not quite get answered -- is whether OP Heggie is quite as oblivious as he appears. What's also noteworthy is that, for once, one of those bratty daughters of society gets precisely what she deserves (rather than the male lead).

Worth finding and catching.

Sophie Leonard...er...Tucker does not like singing her heart out at the HONKY TONK that has made her the toast of Broadway. She's rather be fixing pancakes with honey (ick) for her beloved daughter. But when snobby daughter, who is educated abroad, and knows nothing about her Momma's Broadway career, dates a callow youth who knows darn well about Momma, will melodrama result?

This is a lost film with a surviving soundtrack that tantalizes mightily. Sophie sings six numbers in this, and puts on a broad, but seemingly compelling performance as a mythical Sophie who doesn't really like showbiz that much. From what can be heard, the plot, such as it is, is a watered down version of Applause, made risible by the conceit that daughter is completely ignorant of what Momma (who seems to be, well, Sophie Tucker) does for a living. Tucker, however, handles the dramatic scenes in good voice (she sounds something like Bette Midler, of all people). But the singing is the main thing here, and the soundtrack definitiely tells us Tucker was singing well.

I don't know if this film would be found disappointing if it is ever found. Everyone, except Sophie, is distressingly early talkie in their clearly enunciated vocal style. But Sophie is a force of nature on the soundtrack, and, had the film survived, it would have been the only talking film starring her, rather than having her sing a specialty number, and getting her quickly off stage.

This one needs to be found.