Albuquerque

Movie-wise, there are few experiences more pleasurable than kicking back with a Randolph Scott western.

Scott knew his audiences, understood what they wanted, and gave it to them. I have recollections of reading that Scott was among the most consistent moneymakers throughout the late 1940s and 1950s. While none of his films were blockbusters, they didn’t lose money either. I would think that an executive who green lighted a new Scott western did so with no trepidation.

Critics sing hosannas over the seven films he made towards the end of his career with director Budd Boetticher and you’ll get no argument from me. They’re jewels, filled with interesting, flawed, if not slightly eccentric characters who happen to play their dramas against the beautiful panoramas of the west.

The Scott westerns of the post-war era leading up to the Boetticher years are more traditional, but still very entertaining. While some may be better than others, I can’t think of any out and out clunkers. Indeed, I can’t think of a moment’s regret spent watching a Randolph Scott western.

“Albuquerque” (1948) is a case in point. I stayed engrossed and entertained over the course of its 89-minute running time. It was directed by Ray Enright (who coincidentally also directed Scott seven times, including a real winner, “Coroner Creek”, also from 1948), and Enright sure moves things along. There’s hardly a wasted scene.

At one point, Enright superimposes iris-like shots of townspeople placing bets on the success of a freight expedition leaving town, which we see in the background. That’s an effective way of showing two different images without cutting back and forth between them.

Randolph Scott plays Cole Armin, who comes to the town of Albuquerque to work for his uncle John Armin (George Cleveland). Fans of the Lassie TV series may be surprised to see Cleveland not playing a kindly Uncle John, but a martinet who rules the town and surrounding territory with ruthless efficiency.

Cole had come to Albuquerque on a stagecoach with fellow passengers Ted Wallace (Russell Hayden) and his sister Celia (Catherine Craig), along with a little girl played by Karolyn Grimes (Zuzu of Zuzu’s Petals fame).

The Wallaces traveled to Albuquerque to start a freight transportation operation but have their money stolen in a stagecoach robbery. Cole finds out that his uncle was behind the robbery. He retrieves the money, and throws in with the Wallaces to help them start their company in opposition to his uncle.

John Armin has the town sheriff in his back pocket, and a group of thugs headed by Lon Chaney to keep everyone in check. Enright must have liked Chaney’s features, because he gets more close-ups than anyone else in the movie, including Randolph Scott and leading lady Barbara Britton.

Scott and Chaney have a pretty good fisticuffs sequence. I was amused to see Chaney’s cigarette stay lodged in the corner of his mouth even after Scott delivers some pretty vicious punches. Finally, at the end Scott delivers a couple of terrific wallops which finally dislodge the cigarette.

Britton plays Letty Tyler, a spy planted in the Wallace operation by John Armin. She begins relaying information to Armin about the Wallace’s plans but soon changes her mind when she finds herself falling in love with Ted.

“Albuquerque” was shot on location in Sedona, Arizona in the two-tone Cinecolor process, which was one of the more acceptable Technicolor substitutes. It looks fine to me on the DVD transfer.

On loan from Republic Studios is George “Gabby” Hayes as Juke, who becomes a teamster driver for the Wallaces and participates in the film’s big action sequence towards the end, when Cole and Juke have to traverse wagons full of supplies down a narrow mountain ridge with the ledge only a step or two away. One of Armin’s men has sabotaged Cole’s brake, and the horses get skittish and erupt into a run. Cole desperately tries to control the horses and yell warnings at Juke as they both speed down the mountain. It’s a good action scene marred only by some obvious process screen work in the close-ups.

But the medium and far shots of the horses speeding down the mountain with the wagon wheels brushing against the drop off are very well done and satisfying in a way modern-day CGI can’t be. These are actual horses and stunt drivers accomplishing these stunts.

Also supporting the action is a first-rate score by Darrell Calker, a composer I’m not very familiar with. His opening title theme is a real winner, and I look forward to seeing what else of his is out there.

Margaret Mitchell wanted Scott to play Ashley Wilkes but he lost the role to Leslie Howard. A native of Virginia, I always felt Scott would have made a splendid Ashley.

Randolph Scott ended his screen career in 1962 with Sam Peckinpah’s “Ride the High Country”, one of the finest westerns ever. He had grown rich from real estate investments and didn’t need to work any further. Along with John Wayne, Randolph Scott can lay claim to ending his career with one of his very best films and performances. More distinguished and well-revered names cannot make that claim.

Family Lore: In the mid 1930s, my uncle was a young boy and sold newspapers at Chicago’s LaSalle Street station. In those days when air travel was far less common, travel by train was the way to go from coast to coast. Many a celebrity was spotted at LaSalle Street station waiting to transfer on a train to the West Coast, but my uncle only remembered seeing one celebrity. He heard a voice ask, “Son, can I get a paper” and he looked up and saw it was Randolph Scott. He sold him the paper and even got an autograph from him.

My dad remembered my uncle racing home to tell everyone he met Randolph Scott and showed them the autograph. Over the years the autograph got lost but even later in life my uncle always said Randolph Scot was the most handsome man he ever saw.

Mr. Soft Touch, The Desperadoes, Avatar

This is one of those blogs where one thought leads to another. I’ll start with a recent viewing of “Mr. Soft Touch” and end with a discussion of “Avatar.” With a big budget Technicolor western in the middle.

By sheer coincidence I happened to recently catch two movies starring Glenn Ford and Evelyn Keyes: “The Desperadoes” (1943) and “Mr. Soft Touch” (1949). Doing a little research, I was surprised to see they had co-starred together in three additional films, “Adventures of Martin Eden” (1942), “Flight Lieutenant” (1942) and “The Mating of Millie” (1948).

Not one of the great screen teams, but there must have been something in box office returns that Columbia Pictures kept pairing them. Ford has always struck me as a likeable enough actor, but sometimes so low key he’s almost catatonic. However, he does exhibit strong signs of life when playing opposite Rita Hayworth, and can you blame him?

TCM ran “Mr. Soft Touch” this month, and I wondered why they didn’t run it in December as so much of it is set during the Christmas season. In the film, Ford robs a casino and hides from the law in a downtown settlement house, run by Keyes. Of course you know Ford is going to reform thanks to Keyes and the poor but honest kindness of the house’s residents. Also, since his character’s name is Joe Miracle, it’s a foregone conclusion he’ll change his ways.

It’s pleasant enough, though hardly memorable. The huge Christmas tree that decorates the house’s gym is a real beauty however, and there’s an amusing scene where Ford escapes from the law by masquerading in a Santa Claus suit. All that’s missing is a giant stogie, like Edward G. Robinson had sticking out of his mouth while wearing his Santa Claus suit in the very funny Warner Bros. crime comedy “Larceny, Inc.” (1942).

For such a light hearted effort, the film does open with a bang – a pretty good car chase with Ford, in a desperate attempt to escape from a pursuing cop car, driving through a crossing gate and over a bridge just as its going up to make way for a passing boat below. Promise of a crime thriller is offset by the more gentle activities that follow.

“The Desperadoes” was Columbia’s first Technicolor film and it’s a real beauty to watch. There was a special quality to Technicolor photography under the Columbia banner that other studios could not match (though 20th Century Fox, I feel, rules as the pre-eminent studio with their Technicolor offerings. Some of that photography practically melts the eye balls, it’s so vivid).

Based on a novel by Max Brand, “The Desperadoes” is standard though enjoyable fare about two friends, one a sheriff (Randolph Scott) and his outlaw friend (Ford) who reunite to tame a wild frontier town. Keyes is the woman they’re both in love with. Good support from pros like the always welcome Claire Trevor, Guinn Williams, Edgar Buchanan and Porter Hall, as a seemingly respectable banker. Gee, didn’t any one in that town ever see “The Plainsman” (1936)? I wouldn’t trust Hall with the milk money, but that’s the fun of old movies.

Scott is one of my favorite actors, and it’s a pleasure to be witness to his quiet confidence. Sitting back on a cold winter’s evening watching a Randolph Scott western means all is right with the world.

I was thinking about “The Desperaodes” while watching “Avatar” Sunday afternoon. It was pretty spectacular, and the world director James Cameron was very impressive. Many are talking about the visual splendor of “Avatar” and rightfully so, but I feel that a three-strip Technicolor production from Hollywood’s Golden Age is every bit the visual wonder.

Look at what “The Desperadoes” gives us. Vivid blue skies, beautiful horses at full gallop (is there anything more thrilling to watch than racing horses in front of some of the more gorgeous scenery in the world), elaborate costumes – for me, westerns like “The Desperadoes” offer just as much visual pleasure as “Avatar” and its Technicolor photography is just as eye popping as the computer-generated imagery of “Avatar.”

Something else that occurred to me while watching “Avatar.” So much of the visuals are reminiscent of the John Carter of Mars novels of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Cameron has admitted in interviews that Burroughs was a huge inspiration in “Avatar’s” creation. (I’m assuming he means Edgar Rice and not William).

The first John Carter novel, “A Princess of Mars”, is about to begin production as the first live action offering from Pixar Studios. Release date is 2012. When it comes out, I’m sure there will be lots of complaints that it’s a rip off of “Avatar.” I’m hoping Pixar rolls out the publicity machine early on this, and let all the fanboys out there know that Burroughs was there first, all the way back in the 1912.

Which leads to another thought and that is watching 3D movies. It’s likely middle age (I’m 47), but halfway through “Avatar” during a lengthy dialogue sequence I had to take those glasses off and give my eyes a rest.

For me, 3D doesn’t add a whole lot to the experience. It could be my irritation at paying an extra $3 for a pair of glasses that likely cost all of 50 cents to produce. No wonder the studios are jumping on the 3D bandwagon. Good writing and characters can draw us into the story every bit as much as 3D images. The trailers for Tim Burton’s “Alice in Wonderland” (or the new Christopher Lee movie, as I like to think of it) look extremely promising and I can’t wait to see it, but I think I’ll forego the $3 extortion and just see it flat.

But…but…but…that beggars the question if seeing it flat is really what the director intended and shouldn’t I support the film in the process the director filmed it? I refuse to watch full-screen versions of widescreen films because I feel I’m missing too much of the visual information the director wishes to impart. So using the same standards, if a director films a movie in 3D shouldn’t I see it in that format?

On the other hand, I’m still seeing all the information as the director intended, just not in 3D. I don’t need to see the floating head of the Cheshire Cat in the foreground when I can still see it floating in the flat version.

So I’ll likely see “Alice in Wonderland” flat and see if I feel cheated. If I do, I’ll just have to pop a couple of aspirin before I don those glasses again.

Virginia City

There’s a lot to like in “Virginia City” (1940), but it never quite comes together. There are some fatal casting problems, and the script is all over the place, but it’s all quite watchable and has the Warner Bros. professionalism stamped all over it. Still, despite being directed by the great Michael Curtiz, this is one of the lesser Errol Flynn entries of his starring years.

I would think some 1940 moviegoers must have felt terribly cheated after watching “Virginia City” if they were expecting a sequel to one of 1939’s biggest hits “Dodge City.”

Flynn had one of his biggest successes with “Dodge City”, a Technicolor town-taming western that holds up quite well today. At the end of that film he is asked to clean up another rough and tumble western town, Virginia City in Nevada. He agrees to the assignment, and the last scene shows him and frequent leading lady Olivia deHavilland off to Virginia City, accompanied by a triumphant Max Steiner music cue.

“Virginia City” appeared a year later, not as a sequel, but as a Civil War western, and based on an actual historic incident. It also boasts the same director (Curtiz), screen writer (Robert Bruckner) and composer (Steiner), but, alas, no Technicolor.

Having escaped from Libby Prison with pals Alan Hale and Guinn “Big Boy’ Williams (also holdovers from “Dodge City” and the three would play together in “Santa Fe Trail” a year later), Flynn realizes the dying Confederacy needs one last daring plan to keep it going. The mining town of Virginia City is home to many Confederate sympathizers and its possible some of the gold and silver mined there will be used to refinance the Confederacy. It turns out he’s right, and it’s no less than Randolph Scott as the Libby warden who agrees to guide the treasure-laden ($5 million worth) wagon train from Nevada to the South. Randolph Scott is a welcome presence in any movie and he plays the Southern gentleman here to a T. Supposedly he was Margaret Mitchell’s choice to play Ashley Wilkes. I wish he had.

It’s a lot of fun to see Flynn and Scott recognize each other in a Nevada saloon, with both thinking the other was back East.

Of course there’s a woman both men love, a Confederate sympathizer played by Miriam Hopkins. I adore Hopkins in “Trouble in Paradise” (1932) and “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (1932) but she’s too brittle and harsh for the role and is arguably one of Flynn’s least effective leading ladies. They go together like pickles and milk. It’s not an enjoyable screen coupling, and her rendition of “Rally Round the Flag Boys” is also pretty rough on the ears. I prefer her singing “Jazz Up Your Lingerie” in Lubitsch’s “The Smiling Lieutenant” (1931), one of the greatest songs ever written.

The second miscasting mistake is the Mexican bandit John Murrell, played by, of all people, Humphrey Bogart. Yikes! His Mexican accent is strictly of the Frito Bandito type, and why they had to make him Mexican I’ll never know. They should have just made him a regular black-clad outlaw, like his role in the marvelously entertaining “The Oklahoma Kid” (1939). Many people feel Bogart’s worst screen performance is in “The Return of Dr. X”, his only horror film, but I have to give the nod to “Virginia City.”

Despite the miscasting, and the often unwieldy script, there’s much to enjoy. Curtiz’s compositions during the action scenes remain a marvel, and Steiner provides some of the best traveling stagecoach music ever. Flynn and Scott provide some stirring self-sacrifice at the end and we even get a climatic plea to Abraham Lincoln that is corny but somehow fits.

The film runs 121 minutes, and, unusually for a Curtiz film, one feels the whole two hours. A little trimming would have helped.

But it’s not a bad film by any means, and I will no doubt re-visit it again in the years ahead. Errol Flynn and Randolph Scott in a big budget western is not something to be ignored.

Rating for “Virginia City”: Two-and-a-half stars.

To the Last Man

“To the Last Man” (1933), a western about two feuding families and based on a Zane Grey novel, has one of the most unusual opening credit sequences I’ve ever seen.

The technical credits come up, but there’s no cast listed. The movie begins, and lo and behold, there’s a credit. Each time a major character is introduced in a scene, the actor’s name and the character he or she plays shows up at the bottom of the scene.

Randolph Scott appears in the 20-minute mark, which means we’re still reading credits 20 minutes into the movie. It’s odd, and it’s no wonder that this never became a favored practice.

This approach, though, heightens the fun of seeing who shows up in the cast. I didn’t look at the back of the DVD box, so didn’t know who was in it save for Randolph Scott and Esther Ralston. Imagine my surprise at what a rich cast the movie offers.

The Hayden and Colby families have been feuding and killing each other for years, with no let up. The meanest of the Colbys (Noah Berry) kills one of the Haydens in cold blood, and is sentenced to 15 years in jail.

His daughter Ellen (Esther Ralston) hates all the Haydens as well. That is, until she meets Lynn Hayden (Randolph Scott), not knowing he’s a Hayden. Their feelings for each other grow stronger, to the chagrin of the Colby family. The Haydens are more accepting of her and want the feud to be over.

On the Colby side is Noah Berry and Jack LaRue. Nasty, nasty men.

On the Hayden side is Barton MacLane, Buster Crabbe, Gail Patrick and Fuzzy Knight. They all get a credit card as they are introduced. At the 34-minute mark the youngest of the Colbys has her first scene, five-year-old Shirley Temple. She doesn’t get a credit card, but in only a few years she would be one of the biggest stars of the 1930s. Why the Colbys are so mean, they even take a pot shot at Temple while she’s outside playing!

This was filmed one year before the Production Code was enforced, so there’s some scenes that would not have been approved a year later. Randolph Scott first spies Esther Ralston as she’s taking a nude swim. The camera is kept at a discreet distance when he first spots her, but he rides closer to get a better look. Way to go, Randy!

When Noah Berry finds out his daughter is in love with a Colby he takes a whip to her and his face transforms into an ugly visage of hatred. That scene no doubt gave some 1933 youngsters a few nightmares.

Director Henry Hathaway was a master at outdoor adventure movies, and “To the Last Man” is no exception. No backlots here, this was filmed entirely on location at Big Bear Lake, California. Beautiful countryside, and a fitting backdrop to this engaging tale of feuding families.

Randolph Scott was born for these kinds of western roles. Esther Ralston makes a most fetching barefoot heroine. She was the leading lady in one of my favorite silent films, “Old Ironsides” (1926), a thrilling tale of the U.S. Constitution and its campaign against the Barbary Pirates. Anyone who thinks silent movies are dull should see “Old Ironsides.”

“To the Last Man” is exceptionally well photographed, has a splendid supporting cast and a pair of very likeable lead performances. There are far worst ways to spend 70 minutes.

Rating for “To the Last Man”: Three stars.

Ride the High Country

“Ride the High Country” (1962) is one of the greatest westerns ever made, which means it’s also one of the greatest movies ever made. It’s a glorious film that works on many levels, and is arguably director Sam Peckinpah’s best film.

Peckinpah is one of those directors I’ve always admired more than liked. “The Wild Bunch” (1969) is an undoubted masterpiece, but it’s not an easy film to sit though. “Major Dundee” (1965) has some marvelous visuals, but a disjointed narrative, even in the restored version which recently came out on DVD.

A maverick personality, in the best and worst senses, Peckinpah was in many ways his own worst enemy. But that was the future.

“Ride the High Country” is a beautifully elegiac film, teaming two legendary stars, Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott for the first and only time. This film gives Scott a wonderful final screen appearance that ranks up there with the final films of John Wayne in “The Shootist” (1976) and Humphrey Bogart in “The Harder They Fall” (1956) as worthy screen goodbyes.

Joel McCrea plays Steve Judd, an ex-lawman who is hired to transport gold from the mines. Needing help, he runs into his old partner Gil Westrum (Randolph Scott) to help him. Gil brings along his partner Heck (Ron Starr, don’t know what ever happened to him) to help. It’s established early on that while Gil and Steve are friends, there’s some tenseness there. Judd is a straight shooter, interested in living a dignified, honest life while Gil has more than a touch of larceny in him. Indeed, he and Heck plan to steal the gold for themselves and make off with it.

On their way to the mines they stop off at a ranch owned by a fundamentalist, Bible thumping rancher (R.G. Armstrong) whose daughter Elsa (Mariette Hartley, in her film debut) is itching to get clear of the ranch. She leaves the ranch and asks the three to escort her to the gold camp where her fiancé Billy Hammond (James Drury) is mining with his brothers.

The Hammond brothers are pure Peckinpah, dirty and grimy and with the morals of alley cats. They’re played by later Peckinpah favorites Warren Oates and L.Q. Jones. The mining camp is a dinghy, depressing place, but a touch of beauty and grace emerges during Billy and Elsa’s wedding. On their wedding night, Billy gets drunk and passes out and the Hammond brothers decide to take his place in the wedding bed. Her screams bring Steve, Gil and Heck to her rescue, and after a tense stand-off they elect to bring her back with them, along with the latest gold shipment.

The next day the Hammond brothers take after them to bring Elsa back. Gil and Heck steal the gold but Judd stops them, and ties them up. He tries to make his way back through the high country with prisoners in tow and the Hammond brothers right on his trail, with blood lust in their hearts and guns drawn ready to kill.

Like “The Wild Bunch,” “Ride the High Country” deals with western men whose time has passed. The west they’ve known is gone, replaced by a town teeming with automobiles, a Chinese restaurant, and a carnival featuring a race between a camel and a horse. Judd is ordered to clear the streets by the local police, who are dressed like the Keystone Cops.

Judd’s time is over but he’s determined to live the rest of his life with the dignity he’s always possessed. As such, Steve Judd is the perfect role for Joel McCrea.

McCrea was a Hollywood anomaly, a good, decent man. Married to actress Frances Dee for more than 50 years, he lived a quiet life with his family entirely devoid of scandal or rumor. He starred in all kinds of movies in the 1930s and 1940s, including some of Preston Sturges’ best-loved films, but after World War II he made almost exclusively westerns. When not making movies, he was a working rancher, and, as such, was an authentic cowboy.

His career paralleled co-star Randolph Scott’s in a few ways. Like McCrea, Scott appeared in everything from comedies to musicals, to westerns to melodramas in the 1930 and 1940s but after World War II he made nothing but westerns. They both liked making westerns, they knew their fans liked them in westerns, and since both actors were consistent money makers, why rock the boat?

Beginning in 1955 with “Seven Men From Now”, Randolph Scott made a series of tight, B westerns directed by Budd Boetticher that are marvels of tightness, speed, action and Freudian overtones. Check out “The Tall T” (1957) sometime if you ever get the chance.

“Ride the High Country” is the perfect screen coda for them. Their time has come but Steve and Gil, like McCrea and Scott, are going to go out in a blaze of glory. Composer George Bassman contributes a lovely theme which is a perfect complement to the autumnal aspects of the story.

There’s a terrific shoot out scene in the rocks where no music is played, but the lonely sound of the wind makes for an equally effective soundtrack. The final shoot out at the ranch is one of the most melancholy, yet satisfying, in all westerns. Steve’s final words with Gil are poetic in their simplicity and are matched by the haunting final image.

McCrea made three or four cameo in later films and one final film “Mustang Country” (1976). Scott decided to call it quits. A shrewd businessman, he invested wisely and retired a wealthy man. But their films still play and connect with audiences who respond to the values their characters espoused. We will never see their likes again.

Rating for “Ride the High Country”: Four stars.

The Spoilers (1942), Useless Three Stooges Trivia

With a cast of headed by Marlene Dietrich, Randolph Scott and John Wayne, a bevy of great character actors and sterling production design, Universal Pictures’ production of “The Spoilers” (1942) can’t help but fail to entertain. This story of gold miners in Nome, Alaska circa 1900 is hugely entertaining, cramming comedy, romance and action, including one of the movies’ longest fist fights, in a brisk 87-minute running time.

“The Spoilers” has long been a favorite of the movies. Based on a novel by adventure writer Rex Beach, it’s been filmed many times, several times in the silent era, in 1930 with Gary Cooper, and again by Universal in 1955 with Anne Baxter, Rory Calhoun and Jeff Chandler.

There’s no great psychological shadings to the characters here, or elaborate back stories (thank God), just a lusty, brawling tale of early Alaska, where a glamorous saloon hostess (Marlene Dietrich) loves one of the miners (John Wayne) while fending off the advances of the new Gold Commissioner (Randolph Scott) who wants the gold for himself and other unscrupulous men who use the cover of the law to steal the earnings of the miners.

I’ve always loved the production design of this movie. Nome is recreated in all its grimy, muddy streeted glory, where a man gets killed in a gunfight and lands in the mad with a resounding plop. No running in the streets here, just trudging through the mud to cross the street is an ordeal in itself.

The saloon is a marvelous design too, with large spaces and plenty of room to stage the famous fistfight at the climax. Lasting almost five minutes, Wayne and Scott really go at it here, as the fight starts in Dietrich’s upstairs bedroom, moves onto the second floor balcony, makes its way down to the main floor and then outside the saloon finishing in the muddy streets. The fight is only ruined by an instance or two of camera undercranking, causing the fighters to move in fast motion.

Plus, there’s a honey of a steam engine that becomes part of the action-filled climax. Anytime trains are used as part of the action in a western earns extra points in my book.

What a supporting cast too, with each fame filled with familiar faces. There’s former Warner Bros. star Margaret Lindsay as a romantic rival for Wayne’s affections (she seems so nice and sweet, but looks can be deceiving); the sublime Harry Carey as Wayne’s partner; Richard Barthelmess as Dietrich’s employee, desperately in love with his boss; George Cleveland (the grandfather in the old “Lassie” TV show) and Russell Simpson as a couple of prospectors; Samuel S. Hinds (the father in “It’s a Wonderful Life”), as a seemingly honest judge but who is as crooked as they come; weasely Charles Halton; silent film star William Farnum (I believe he starred in one of the silent versions of “The Spoilers”), and perennial drunk Jack Norton. Norton has a drunk scene here too, but he’s only pretending to be drunk to help effect Wayne’s escape from jail. After seeing Norton play nothing but drunks in countless movies, it’s a pleasure to watch him in a heroic mode, even if it’s only a short scene.

The rousing score is by Universal staff composer Hans J. Salter, and anyone familiar with the Universal horror movies of the 1940s will recognize Salter’s style. It’s one of his best scores.

Director Ray Enright earned his stripes directing movies at Warner Bros. in the 1930s, a studio known for the pace of their movies. He learned his lessons well, as he moves the story at a speedy pace. However, there is some forced racial humor that contemporary audiences might find uncomfortable.

For action fans, “The Spoilers” is rousing entertainment.

Rating for “The Spoilers”: Three stars.

Useless Trivia Department: Kudos to Sony Pictures for finally treating The Three Stooges correctly. After years of thoughtlessly bunching up Stooge titles on VHS and DVD, they finally decided to do it right, re-mastering the Stooges shorts and releasing them in chronological order. The first volume came out several months ago, covering the years 1934-1936, and the shorts never looked better.

The other night I watched “Hoi Polloi” (1935), the first of their shorts where some well-meaning types attempt to turn the boys into gentlemen as part of an experiment.

What I found really interesting is their introductory scene, where the boys are on a street picking up garbage. It’s not the Columbia backlot, as would be expected on a short subject, but an expansive downtown somewhere in Los Angeles. A theater marquee is shown advertising Bing Crosby in “Mississippi” (1935). Now that is a Paramount movie and the Stooges made their shorts at Columbia. There was no way that Columbia studio head Harry Cohn would promote a rival’s product.

If you look at lots of old movies that have scenes with theater marquees, they always are showing the home studio product. So if “Hoi Polloi” was shot on the Columbia back lot, you can bet a theater marquee would be advertising a Columbia title. Apparently Columbia went to the expense of shooting on location for this short. Nothing earth shattering here, but I found that very interesting.