Beyond Tomorrow (1940)

Directed by A. Edward Sutherland; produced by Lee Garmes

Three bachelors (Charles Winninger, C. Aubrey Smith, Harry Carey), whose Christmas dinner guests cancel at the last minute, decide to invite a pair of strangers to fill the empty chairs. Their fortuitous choices fall upon a couple of young people (Richard Carlson, Jean Lawrence). The latter fall in love, watched over by their benefactors, who don’t even let death halt their protection.

This is an odd film, as may be deduced even by the slim synopsis given above. Supernatural, though not quite a ghost story, it is also partly a romantic drama. The two elements don’t really mesh well, and run almost parallel until the last few minutes. The story was undoubtedly plotted, but moves along so gently that it may as well have been made up as it goes. What happens to the couple, the tribulations they go through, is rather clichéd, and may have been even by the time it was made. That is one of the problems with Beyond Tomorrow: it seems rather naïve – not necessarily a bad thing – and out of place, even in 1940. Its story could have come straight from a silent-era movie, when filmed story-telling was novel.

The characters aren’t deeply portrayed. The three old men are more interesting than the two young people, but we are told very little about them. They are engineers in a partnership obviously of long-standing, but how such diverse characters (an Irish American, a former British Indian Army officer, and a hard-bitten mid-westerner) came to meet and form a friendship, we don’t know. Carey was involved in a scandal years before but of what nature, we aren’t told; what occurs to him during the movie suggests that he had a more nefarious part in it than is otherwise implied. Smith’s character is, I think, the most unusual, as he is a man who has lost his son (an air force officer killed in the Great War) but holds no bitterness; his memories are wistful but happy. Such a personality is rare in movies. Their housekeeper (Maria Ouspenskaya) is a former Russian aristocrat; another strange addition.

The two lovers are little more than sketches. The man is named Houston, and is from Texas. He sings and eventually secures a career using that talent – though not as a singing cowboy. The woman is a sweet girl who entertains children at an orphanage. The actress looked a great deal like another Jean – Jean Arthur – but, based on this performance, did not have her talent.

There is no suspense to the story, despite some of the events, and the uncertainty as to what will happen to the trio of gentlemen once they are killed and return as spirits.

Beyond Tomorrow is mildly entertaining and somewhat interesting, but probably won’t hold the attention of most viewers, even for its 84 minutes. Future western character actor Hank Worden can be glimpsed briefly in the hospital scene.

Slightly Honorable (1939)

Directed and produced by Tay Garnett

The death of a corrupt highways commissioner focusses attention on an evil political boss (Edward Arnold), who finds himself targeted by a lawyer (Pat O’Brien) and his associate (Broderick Crawford), hired to run interference on a new highways bill. The lawyers’ battle, however, is hindered by murder, romance, blackmail, chicanery - and humour.

As a comedy / mystery, Slightly Honorable is much more successful as the former than the latter. It owes much to the presence of O’Brien, who was later often relegated to secondary roles, but who shows here that he can easily carry a film. He portrays a man who is smart, attractive to women and slightly shady but with a decent heart. His performance is ably assisted by Crawford, and a host of character actors, including Eve Arden, as a secretary whose incompetence is matched only by her apathy. Evelyn Keyes is seen in a bit part as another secretary.

The writing is both snappy and adult, filled with visual and spoken innuendo. The script must have been risqué at the time, and hasn’t moved far from that territory by now. A substantial sub-plot concerns the comic and presumptuous infatuation for O’Brien on the part of an eighteen year old (under-aged in 1939) chorus-girl. O’Brien’s euphemism, uttered whenever the girl unworriedly undresses in front of him, may not have fooled everyone at the time. There is also O’Brien’s reputation for physical rough-stuff with women, called by one character his ‘technique’. While enough to enrage one father, who puts two and two together, the viewer gathers that O’Brien has a much tougher image than he deserves.

The story, which gave me the impression of being rather more suited to a 1920s setting than a late ‘30s, does not support its mystery well. The murderer’s motives are not plausible and there are virtually no clues as to the identity of the killer. But if viewed as an adventure, rather than a detective story, something that is helf screwball comedy, there are fewer expectations to be disappointed.

Slightly Honorable is a fun film, a bit of an eyebrow-raiser, even these days, and, though not quite pulling off the combination of comedy, mystery and light-hearted caper it probably hoped to be, is still an entertaining movie.

Inner Sanctum (1948)

Directed by Lew Landers; produced by Samuel Rheiner and Walter Shenson

On a train, a mysterious man (Fritz Leiber) strikes up a conversation with a bored passenger (Eve Miller), and tells her a story. It’s about a man (Charles Russell) who accidentally kills his girlfriend. Panicking, he deposits the body on a departing train and hides in a boarding house in a small town, trapped there by a flood. Then, events start to close in on the inadvertent criminal, as he tries to buy time until the flood recedes and he can flee.

In a vein similar to the popular radio anthology series of the same name, Inner Sanctum may have been appealing as a later 1950s television programme. Unfortunately, this movie would have been one of its less successful episodes. The set-up is interesting with Dr Valonius, a less than creepy (actually rather benevolent) seer, who re-appears in the last couple of minutes (which constitute the best sequence of the film). The other characters are very ordinary. One, a boy (Dale Belding), starts off rather dense but becomes smarter later on, putting together clues in a way that would do justice to a professional detective.

There is some humour, which is at least entertaining, but which is misplaced in the context of the film. The dialogue is good, and the acting is competent. The story is the main culprit. One expects more of a twist to the principal story-line and, though a surprise comes at the end, it doesn’t redeem the bulk of the tale, or the movie in general. I have a suspicion that the ‘book-ends’ to the movie were the justification for the rest of it - a version of a writer or producer thinking a good premise is as satisfactory as having a good plot. The direction is pedestrian and doesn’t help matters.

While Inner Sanctum’s actors do a good job, there is nothing really here to hold the viewer after the beginning grabs him.

British Agent (1934)

Directed by Michael Curtiz; no producer credited

In 1917 Russia, a lone representative of Britain (Leslie Howard) fights two battles, one overt and one clandestine, to keep the new Bolshevik government in the war against Germany and, if that fails, to overthrow it. His task is complicated by his rocky affair with a secretary (Kay Francis) of the Bolsheviks’ Political Committee, a woman who makes no apologies for her loyalty to the Revolution - or for her love for the Englishman.

My reaction to this film is probably unique to my movie-watching. I found it intensely interesting - but can give it only a mild recommendation.

First, I will explain the interest. British Agent is a fictionalised account of the true exploits of Robert Bruce Lockhart, as described in his memoirs, a book that I bought and read years ago. (I have a strong interest in early twentieth century espionage.)

Real people are given movie pseudonyms: Lockhart becomes Locke, Sir George Buchanan is Sir Walter Carrister, Kerensky is Kolonoff, Trotsky is easily recognizable as ‘the commissioner for war’, while the head of the Cheka (Bolshevik secret police) holds Dzerzhinsky’s position but looks like Stalin; Lenin is depicted but his name is pronounced Leneen, and the British prime minister is supposed to be Lloyd George but resembles Balfour.

Nevertheless, for a fictionalised version, the events parallel reality very closely, though with some alterations (eg. the sacking of the British Embassy in Petrograd (Saint Petersburg) and the murder of the naval attaché there become the pillage of the consulate in Moscow and the murder of a diplomatic employee.)

The story is as straightforward a tale of political and intelligence operations as you’ll find; there is no editorialising, no taking sides. Locke is a patriotic Briton trying to keep Russia on his country’s side in a life-or-death struggle against a common enemy, while Elena is a dedicated revolutionary who sees Bolshevism as the answer to man’s ills. The savage nature of the Communist regime is not hidden, nor are the illegal attempts by Locke to oust it. I found this impartiality highly refreshing, and filmed entertainment probably would not see it again until the Reilly tv series, starring Sam Neill.

Even so, I cannot strongly recommend British Agent (though it would have an appeal to those devoted to history). I found the romance between the two protagonists to be a distraction. This is ironic, since it was a central feature of the real-life story. Often, in truth, there is no love affair, and it has to be added by Hollywood. Locke is repeatedly played for a fool by his girlfriend and, while this may be realistic, is rather tiresome to watch. As well, the dialogue spoken by the lovers is melodramatic and full of lines that no one but a screenwriter could imagine people uttering.

The sudden ending comes via a deus ex machina that definitely is straight out of the world of fiction, and does not reflect real events, which resolved themselves in a rather unsatisfactory way over a lengthy period of time. The fateful decision, made by Lenin, that clears up the problems at the finale was definitely not one which he would have made.

These are not small problems, and hurt the film. But its involving plot, set in a tumultuous and chaotic time, and its clean-cut portrayal of events, give British Agent an attraction to some that is out of proportion to its other qualities. But those who will be pleased with it will, I think, be a minority in its audience.

Too Late for Tears (1949)

Directed by Byron Haskin; produced by Hunt Stromberg

While driving one evening to a party, a young couple (Lizabeth Scott, Arthur Kennedy) are shocked when the driver of a passing car tosses a satchel of money into their convertible. Scott wants to keep their windfall, though Kennedy wants to turn it in to the police. To give his wife time to realise the money can bring no good, he agrees to store it away for a week. The next day, a sleazy crook (Dan Duryea) shows up, claiming the money as his, but it’s an open question as to whether he or Scott are more determined to have the cash. And that’s when things become complex - for everyone.

An excellent crime drama, Too Late for Tears showcases a career-making performance by Scott, as one of cinema’s hardest-hearted femme fatales. Her machinations are intricate and ambitious, but realistic. Propelled by the obsession to avoid the shabby lower middle-class life of her youth, Scott won’t let anything stand in her way.

Most of the other actors are fine in their roles. Kennedy plays Scott’s husband as decent and understanding - though not understanding enough - and while Duryea’s part may be seen as the sort he could have played in his sleep, it has depth to it, especially as he begins to comprehend that he, a life-time criminal, has more of a conscience than the housewife with whom he’s become entangled. Kristine Miller, as Kennedy’s sister, is the weak link in the cast; her acting is passable, but not up to the level of the others.

The plot is not simple, and the viewer never knows who has the upper hand from one scene to the next; neither do the characters. Don DeFore shows up in the movie’s second reel, claiming an acquaintance with Kennedy, but what he is really after keeps the audience guessing.

There are a few flaws, such as a police detective (Barry Kelley) who seems quite competent, but who becomes conveniently thick-headed with regard to some evidence, principally so the amateurs looking into the affair have to go it alone. Aside from a few excusable elements that could have been better handled, the story is satisfying.

The direction, script and cinematography are all good, without being very good. Too Late for Tears is, in fact, a film with many average qualities, elevated by the acting and the story. It was probably filmed on a slim budget, but should be remembered after more expensive movies are forgotten. It’s an example of what one or two factors can do for an otherwise normal work.

Ramrod (1947)

Directed by Andre de Both; produced by Harry Sherman

A former drunk (Joel McCrea) hires on with a would-be sheep-rancher (Ian MacDonald) and his fiancée (Veronica Lake), who intend to challenge the strangle-hold the local boss (Preston Foster) has on the district. After MacDonald bows to intimidation and flees, his stronger girlfriend decides to continue the struggle, and McCrea, no stranger to Foster’s bullying, agrees to help.

Ramrod has the feel of an intended epic, set in the old American west. Certainly the talent is there: McCrea and Lake re-team several years after the delightful Sullivan’s Travels, Foster is a dependable heavy, and Donald Crisp is cast as a veteran lawman. Andre de Toth was well-seasoned as a director by then. But the movie has a curious listlessness, and the budget seemed less than it should have been. Wondrous things have been done for small amounts, but not in this case.

As capable a director as de Toth was, Ramrod has the odd characteristic of several key action scenes occurring just off-camera, or the camera catching them just a little too late. One man is shot, falls and, though the last we see of him is his struggle to lift his revolver, the following dialogue proves that he was killed. In a shoot-out in the village street, a man is gunned down; we see the shooter fire, then the victim tumble, but we do not see his face. It may be a little complaint but the action made it seem as though the death was important, but not the identity. This may be a criticism better directed at the editing than the directing, but a number of the film’s events appear to occur off-screen, as it were.

The characters are, for the most part, only adequate. McCrea, usually very watchable, is quite humdrum here, and doesn’t generate the interest that he should. Don DeFore stands out as a ne’er-do-well whose loyalty is nonetheless rock-solid. But it is Lake who gives the best performance, creating a character who is strong and determined, but whose single-minded ambition to break her enemy leads her to use whatever method she needs, and exploit whomever comes under her hand. A not unsympathetic portrait, it is a tragic character, in a minor way.

Ramrod’s scenery is excellent, but outside close-ups, for example a night-time duel when the villains are stalking their victims through the brush, are often filmed on a stage, and while the cinematography has impressive instances, these are few. The film just doesn’t give them their moments.

Ramrod could have been much better than it was; everything was in place. But through effortlessness or lack of funds or less than stellar post-production work, it turns out simply average.

It Happened Tomorrow (1944)

Directed by René Clair; produced by Arnold Pressburger

A reporter (Dick Powell), during a night of conviviality celebrating his promotion, wishes that he could learn of events beforehand. Despite the friendly warning of the newspaper’s archivist (John Philliber), Powell presses his wish, only to have the archivist deliver him the next day’s edition of their newspaper that night. Astonished, frightened and confused, Powell nonetheless uses the paper, and subsequent deliveries, to enhance his professional reputation and advance his personal life. But he soon learns that being able to see the future doesn’t mean knowing everything that will happen.

Some may recall the late 1990s tv series Early Edition. It was based on an identical premise as It Happened Tomorrow, and must have been inspired by the film. The movie itself is based on a play by Lord Dunsany, and is a very entertaining comedy fantasy, with a little bit of wisdom regarding the dangers of too much knowledge.

Powell was noted at this time for acting in comedies and musicals, though this would soon change drastically when he switched into the crime and film noir genre. It Happened Tomorrow was not quite his last light-hearted role; if he was tired of being cast in them, it doesn’t show here. His performance is spot on, as his character goes through the various stages that we all might experience in such fantastic circumstances. Linda Darnell plays his love interest, whom he meets, significantly, without the future newspaper’s help. Jack Oakie is close to being over the top as Darnell’s uncle, with whom she performs a fake psychic act, but instead, his style works. Veteran director Clair uses Oakie’s exuberance well by completely suppressing it at certain moments.

The setting is the 1890s and the story benefits from the era. The manners and mores of the characters are true to the decade, and they lead to some funny scenes (I chuckled aloud at the sight of the feet under Darnell’s bed). The writing is clever in how it arranges for the newspaper’s ‘predictions’ to come true (eg. the twist on Powell’s claim that he would ‘give ten years’ of his life to know the future), keeping the viewer guessing, and the actionful climax – with Powell’s comical initial belief in his invulnerability – is funny and exciting.

The only incongruous element in It Happened Tomorrow are the ‘book-ends’, which take place fifty years after the main story. Not only is this element unnecessary (though perhaps it was because film-goers at the time were as disconnected from the past as are their present counterparts), but it seems to take place in the future. Philliber, as the newspaper’s archivist, gestures toward the few bound copies of the journal that represent the twentieth century. This would place the ‘book-ends’ in at least 1950; the film was released in 1944. It may have been a further joke, to play with time in this fashion.

On the subject of time, It Happened Tomorrow is a movie that could be enjoyed by any era; a minor classic and timeless comedy, well-written, well-acted, well-directed.