THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN AFRICA

(1955)

By Bruce Dettman

With only a few exceptions most Hollywood sequels don’t live up to expectations although there are a handful of efforts such as The Bride of Frankenstein and Godfather II which prove that this doesn’t necessarily have to be the case.

Usually sequels are limp and uninspired re-workings of the parent product, lazy retreads churned out quickly to take advantage of the success of the original. But sometimes sequels are even worse than this. Sometimes they are simply drop dead awful.

The Adventures of Captain Africa, a cliffhanger produced by Columbia Studios in 1955, falls into this latter category. It is, in fact, one of the worst serials ever made, not a minor achievement given some of the bottom of the barrels chapter-plays turned out in the closing days of this film genre.

Originally The Adventures of Captain Africa was intended to be a follow-up to Columbia Studio’s earlier offering The Phantom produced in 1943 and based on the popular Lee Falk comic strip character. The Phantom starred Tom Tyler, a former record-holding weightlifter and western player, who in costume physically bore a startling resemblance to Falk’s purple-suited and masked creation. A solid serial but not a great one, it boasted good action and was fairly loyal to its comic strip storyline.

Twelve years later the folks at Columbia (that is to say producer Sam Katzman) got it into their heads to make a second Phantom serial, this one staring John Hart who had appeared in the studio’s earlier cliffhanger Jack Armstrong, The All American Boy and would go on to replace Clayton Moore for a couple of seasons on The Lone Ranger television show.

Cliffhangers had been dying a slow death beginning some years earlier and their life expectancy wasn’t long.  Budgets had been slashed and early TV adventure and comic book inspired shows were beginning to encroach on their territory. In order to trim costs even further many serials produced in the 1950s were shoddy makeovers, old concepts with a thinly applied coat of celluloid paint that relied heavily upon resurrected scenes from older and better serials. To this end actors were often hired to match stock footage of other performers from earlier productions, often even dressed in the same costumes.

Such was going to be the case of the Phantom sequel. In an interview recorded many years later, Hart explained that the entire Phantom sequel was actually filmed with him in the proper costume (stills exist depicting this). However, a stumbling block occurred, when King Features, who owned the rights to the character of The Phantom, wanted too much money to use him again. This did not, however, deter skinflint Katzman who decided to go ahead with the project only altering the character’s name to Captain Africa and slightly changing the familiar comic book costume. Again according to Hart—who erroneously also claimed that Tom Tyler actually purchased the rights to The Phantom and refused to relinquish them—aside from certain shots, the entire serial was scrapped and re-filmed as The Adventures of Captain Africa. Captain Africa wore a similar double holstered gun belt as his precursor but the skintight purple outfit with the striped trunks, hood and mask were replaced by a heavy-turtleneck sweater and an aviator helmet and goggles. It was hardly an improvement.

Frankly, the serial is a total mess. Screenwriter George Plympton and director Spencer Bennett went back to the drawing board and fashioned a crazy-quilt concoction made of scenes from the first Phantom serial, the aborted sequel, several other of the studio’s cliffhangers and shot after shot of stock footage clumsily woven together within a totally nonsensical storyline. To aid in making some sense out of this a voice-over narration was also introduced. It didn’t help.

The plot, which takes place in what is described as the Near East has something to do with an attempt on the part of Nat Coleman (Bud Osborne), an animal trapper, and Ted Arnold (Rick Valin), an adventurer who works for a world government agency (hmmmm the United Nations perhaps), to help Nat’s native assistant Omar (Ben Weldon) who is working against the evil intentions of  bad guys Boris and Greg, to help restore his country’s throne to its rightful heir, the disposed caliph. Although they get into assorted scrapes along the way they are invariably assisted by the mysterious Captain Africa, described as a strange being that the natives fear but worship.

The Adventures of Captain Africa, in addition to being one of the talkiest, most long-winded, action free and dullest serials ever produced, also looks as if it was filmed thirty years earlier. In comparison to watching this crawl along observing paint dry is an exciting spectator sport.

One can only imagine what the actors made of all of this. The reshuffle from the earlier shoot and attempt to integrate so much diverse footage into the action as a means to curb costs must have made things very confusing. Moreover, serials, particularly Columbia serials, were on an incredibly minuscule budget already so the idea of having to film this production twice must have really caused havoc with the front office.

In any case, the performances, like the serial itself, run the gamut from indifferent to embarrassing, but to be fair, given the mishmash of the production, one can hardly hold the most likely bewildered players responsible. It was undoubtedly a payday they wouldn’t have minded forgetting about.

As Captain Africa poor John Hart has little to do but stand in a bunch of potted plants—doubling for an exotic jungle—pretending to observe the action going on around him. Likable Bud Osbourne, traditionally a fixture in “B” westerns, probably has more dialog in this than the sum total of lines spoken by him in all his other films combined. He seems completely out of his element and Rick Valin, who shares most of his scenes with Osbourne, looks similarly uncomfortable and perplexed.  The always enjoyable Ben Weldon as Omar gets to play a good guy for once but seems more silly than sincere. While there is really no female lead, a lackluster June Howard portrays Princess Rhoda with all the pizzazz of a park bench. Familiar faces Lee Roberts and Terry Frost are the bad guys Boris and Greg.

Judging by this production, the motion picture serial was not just dying. It was mercifully putting itself out of its own misery.

July 2010

BLACKHAWK

(1952)

By Bruce Dettman

The comic book Blackhawk debuted in 1941 in an issue of Military Comics. It was the combined creation of Will Eisner, Chuck Cuidera and Bob Powell. Blackhawk was the name taken by Janos Prohaska, an American pilot who joined the Polish Air Force in 1939 to fight the Germans who, under the orders of arch enemy Captain Von Tepp, had killed his brother and sister.

April 2010

Cliffhanger Commentary:

‘Jungle Girl’

By Bruce Dettman

Sex is generally a relatively benign quantity in classic cliffhangers. Pretty girls are an active and much necessary ingredient of the formula, some occasionally decked out in fairly suggestive and exotic outfits, but with few exceptions most of the distaff side are showcased not as main courses, but rather as ornamental side dishes ready to be served up as possible victims to a river of molten lava, a plunge from a mountain top or an uncomfortable brush with a buzz saw. Ironically, it was the women in the early days of cinema that really got the motion picture serial up and running.

There was Pauline, Helen, Elaine, and other damsels in distress, and sometimes they gave as well as they got. It took the ladies a bit longer to get a foothold in the talkie serials with early players being little more than attractive window dressing. Things began to change, much for the better, with some cliffhangers that suddenly exploited the female sex and pushed them to the forefront of the action. Moreover, the exotic femme fatale of far off locals, personified in mainstream films by such appealing actresses as Dorothy Lamour, Maria Montez, Yvonne De Carlo and others, had become very popular with the public and good for the box-office as well.

One of the most important cliffhangers promoting this shift in format was Republic’s Jungle Girl (’41), directed by William Witney and John English and starring lovely Frances Gifford in the title role. Jungle Girl was based on the 1929 Edgar Rice Burroughs novel of the same name but had little, if anything, to do with the original plotline. Republic was even responsible for the name Nyoka Meredith, a factor which would figure in copyright issues when the studio decided to make a sequel. Ms. Gifford invests what is a fairly one-dimensional part with enormous energy and sincerity. The plot devised by writers Alfred Batson, Ronald Davidson, Norman Hall, William Lively, Joseph Pollard and Joseph O’Donnell has Nyoka living with her father, Dr. John Meredith, in Africa, the latter having decided to distance himself from society due to the criminal activities of his twin brother Bradley (both portrayed by Trevor Bardette). He raised Nyoka in the jungle and is looked upon with a reverence bordering on worship by the local natives for his medical knowledge. They have even allowed him to be privy to their hidden stash of diamonds. Only Shamba the witch doctor and his followers view the doctor with disfavor. When Meredith’s twin, in league with a nefarious cohort named Slick Latimer (Gerald Mohr), learns of the diamonds they lure Dr. Meredith away, murder him and replace him with brother whose physical resemblance initially fools everyone, even Nyoka.

The remainder of the serial is spent with the jungle girl aided by aviators Jack Stanley (Tom Neal) and Curly Rogers (Eddie Acuff) tangling with all these various individuals as the culprits try to find a means to steal the gems. Despite director Witney maintaining it to be one of their team’s best directorial efforts—and to this day it maintains a substantial reputation among serial aficionados—Jungle Girl is a bit on the creaky side and not nearly the celluloid romp that distinguishes its aforementioned follow-up, Perils of Nyoka starring Kay Aldridge as Nyoka (though with the different last name of Gordon). Although Jungle Girl was released only a year or so before Perils, it has a decidedly older, less polished and streamlined look and feel to it. Its legacy, to a large degree, is due to the casting of Gifford, a one-time Paramount contract player who was beautiful, athletic and undeniably sexy in her form-fitting jungle duds. Apparently just being raised in the jungle has taught Nyoka not only how to swing through trees, but incredibly (and not very believably) how to single-handedly best a lion and alligator, a good thing because Neal and Acuff are rarely of great help during these wildlife wrestling sessions although, to give them credit, they do help her out of some tight fixes, too many of which have to do with fire. A few of the cliffhangers are also not thought out or that well executed.

Particularly coming to mind is a sequence on a teetering log. In the more strenuous and demanding action sequences stuntwoman Helen Thurston did the doubling for Gifford. Dave Sharpe, donning wig and jungle skirt, was responsible for the remarkable tree swinging sequences many of which put similar Johnny Weissmuller/Tarzan scenes to shame. The supporting cast is a mixed bag. The lead villain is the always dependable Gerald Mohr with Frank Lackteen as native bad guy Shamba and the always reliable Trevor Bardette effective as both Nyoka’s principled father and his back-stabbing twin. Real-life bad boy Tom Neal, who several years later nearly killed fellow actor Franchot Tone with his fists and eventually ended up in prison on manslaughter charges, is handsome and rugged as main hero Jack and handles himself well in the action sequences, but when he opens his mouth comes across as a real blockhead. Sidekick Eddie Acuff tries too hard to be funny with all his asides and mutterings, but, well, just isn’t.

Tommy Cook, later Little Beaver in Adventures of Red Ryder and who also showed up in Tarzan and the Leopard Woman where he tangled with Johnny Sheffield’s Boy, was always one of Hollywood’s more obnoxious child actors and doesn’t change his ways here as native boy Kimbu. Also seen are Emil Horne in his familiar gorilla outfit, Jay Silverheels, a few years away from gaining media immortality as Tonto to Clayton Moore’s Lone Ranger, as one of the natives, plus old familiars Bud Geary, Ken Terrell and Al Taylor.

The serial was filmed at various California locals and looks about as much like Africa as Brooklyn looks like Hawaii which, I suppose, is appropriate since the natives appear more as tropical islanders than Africans. In nearly every scene, set against those rocky crannies and dusty trails at Iverson Ranch usually featured in Republic’s western productions, you wouldn’t be surprised to suddenly see Roy Rogers or Wild Bill Elliott on horseback tearing around the corner. Jungle Girl, while trendsetting in many ways, does not, for various reasons hold up as well as some of Republic’s other famous serials of the period. While there are pleasing performances and some good action sequences, there is something faintly disjointed and awkward about the execution of the plotline as well as some jarring editing and unimaginative photography that combines to render it more shopworn and beleaguered by age than it should be, given the freshness of other Republic products of the same period.

All the same, for all of this there is—and always will be—the lovely, talented Frances Gifford. 

February 2010

Don Daredevil Rides Again

By Bruce Dettman

When, thanks to Walt Disney acquiring the trademark name Zorro for his own weekly series which would end up being put on the back burner for a couple of years, Republic had to make a decision on whether to simply retire the character—who for so long had been such a stable of their western cliffhangers—or just drop the moniker and reinvent the mythology behind the old costume, it wasn’t hard to figure out which route the budget conscious company would take. In truth, the only legitimate Zorro serial the studio had ever produced had been ‘39s’ Zorro’s Fighting Legion, with the remainder of their Zorro franchise being devoted to the sons, grandsons, and other relatives of the original character (with one outing, Zorro’s Black Whip, not even mentioning the name or featuring and actual family descendent, employing only the name in the title).

What did it really matter then, particularly given the last dying gasps of the cliffhanger in the 50s, if the Zorro trade name was sacrificed so the mask could live again? The result of this decision was Don Daredevil Rides Again, a 12 chapter western cliffhanger directed by Fred C. Brannon and written by Ronald Davidson, which brought the familiar black duds out of the mothballs while at the same time adding several new wrinkles to this story of a masked avenger in the Wild West.

When and old Spanish land grant is determined to be a forgery, a group of ranchers are in danger of losing their property to local political boss Roy Barcroft who has his men attempt—by any means possible—to stake out mineral claims and homesteads on their land. Resisting this is Aline Towne, granddaughter of the original owner of Doyle Ranch and neighbor Robert Eisner. Things are looking pretty grim for them until Aline’s lawyer, cousin Ken Curtis, shows up from the East circumvents Barcroft’s plans by filing on Aline’s behalf for the property. There are still other ranchers in a vulnerable position, however, and Barcroft wastes no time in going after them. In an attempt to curtail his felonious schemes, Ken, at the urging of crusty old foreman Hank Patterson, decides to impersonate Don Daredevil, a character created by his grandfather some 40 years before, a fact which initially makes some to the bad guys and locals wonder if this isn’t actually the ghost of the masked rider. Interestingly enough, the Daredevil gear apparently includes the same guns the original masked rider used which, given the date of the historical period of this serial, would indicate six shooters were employed in the 1840s. Don’t think so. Oh, well, a minor detail. In truth, this is anything but a remarkable or standout serial. There’s a  huge amount of old footage, much of it derived from earlier Republic/Zorro outings, the cliffhangers are exactly what one would expect in the limiting confines of a western time frame and setting (numerous plunges off cliffs, fires, explosions in line shacks, etc.) and you can always see what’s coming a good mile away.

Yet, perhaps because of the memories it somehow stirs of older and better days of the cliffhanger, the likable cast and yes, that old much put-upon Zorro costume, Don Daredevil, for those not expecting anything but an entertaining ride, can be diverting and even fun. Ken Curtis (who seems to be wearing an old Allan Lane getup), years before he would assume the role of grizzled old Festus on TVs long running Gunsmoke, is a rather slender hero to be tangling with the likes of bad guys Roy Barcroft, Lane Bradford and John Cason, but he somehow pull it off. He’s more of a thinking man’s serial hero than most and seems to resort to his Don Daredevil alter ego only as a last resort. Not always the most accurate shot (in fact, until the last episode no in this serial seems to be able to hit the proverbial broadside of a barn) he also gets himself in trouble not watching where he is going while galloping along, subsequently colliding with a sturdy tree branch which knocks him to the ground and places him at the mercy of one of the villains. However, I did like the scene where he gets wind of the fact the fastest gun in the west Dale Van Sickel is looking for him. Instead of trying the impossible and outdrawing the gunman, he tosses his own gun away and instead beats him in a fist fight. Speaking of fighting, although stuntmen such as Tom Steele (also seem briefly as an outlaw as is Dave Sharpe) can clearly be glimpsed at work, the actors seem to be doing much more of the action work than usual. Old pros Bradford, Barcroft and Cason are always up to their villainous tasks and, aside from a few nameless/faceless cronies who appear just long enough to be sacrificed (therefore not needing much of a paycheck from Republic), it’s those three that Don Daredevil mostly has to contend with.

In addition, the cast includes I. Stanford Jolley (as perhaps the most overtly corrupt sheriff of all times), Lee Phelps, Michael Ragan and Guy Teague. Uncredited, Jack Ingram and Bud Osborne show up as bartenders. Again, you’ll never find Don Daredevil Rides Again on any list of great serials, but does have its moment, some good performances and its own fans as well. And just as you can’t keep a good man down, the mask wasn’t finished yet and would return three years later in Man with the Steel Whip. But that’s another story.

January 2010

ZOMBIES OF THE STRATOSPHERE

By Bruce Dettman

Republic Studio’s famed Rocketman flying suit figured prominently in three cliffhangers and one TV series all produced as the 1940s came to an end and the 1950s took off. In addition, a trio of different heroes donned the leather-jacketed uniform fitted with a jet pack and a cone-shaped flying helmet, Jeff King, Commando Cody and Larry Martin. This begs the question were there three different suits which each man wore when needed or were these traded off from one savior of the world to the next, sort of like rental tuxedos? We know that Professor Millard invented the first suit in King of the Rocketmen in 1949 and gave it to King to use but then what? Suddenly in 1952’s Radar Men from the Moon it’s said to be Cody’s invention. Not a single mention of the good professor. Later in that same year in Zombies Martin is designated as the suit’s owner (he also seems to occupy Cody’s old office and his female helper Sue, although using different first names, looks like the exact same person, actress Aline Towne who worked for Cody). Confused? Well, it gets even worse when the next year Commando Cody gets the thing back for his television series where he is played by the same actor, Judd Holdren, who once impersonated Larry Martin. So what gives? Wasn’t Professor Millard smart enough to register a patent on his revolutionary flying suit or did he farm the things out to a series of do-gooders he thought were worthy of the honor? Or was Commando Cody just a name that Larry Martin used on occasion like Jim Albright used Captain Midnight? I guess I’ll leave this to greater minds to untangle.

Speaking of untangling, Larry Martin has his work cut out for him in Zombies where for  twelve chapters he tries to figure out what is behind the visit to Earth of two strange looking invaders  from Mars named Marex (Lane Bradford) and Narab (Leonard Nimoy—yes, that Leonard Nimoy). Although the title and even some dialog refers to these two as zombies, there is nothing about them resembling the resurrected corpses of folklore and cinema that audiences have become familiar with. But it is a catchy title.

What these two are up to thanks to screenwriter Ronald Davidson’s script is nothing less than blowing Earth off its axis with the use of a hydrogen bomb so that Mars can take up the identical cosmic space and be rewarded by the superior and friendlier climate the Earth has so long enjoyed. It’s an audacious plan, to say the least, but these two are up to the challenge and it takes the better part of the serial for Larry Martin to get wise to things.

Marex and Narab have the help of a scientist (Dr. Harding) who they blackmail into assisting them, plus the usual strong-armed, home-grown henchman perfectly willing to aid conquering space invaders never seeming to give any thought to what’s waiting for them around the corner once the Earth is no more. To complicate matters, the Martians, who can stay underwater for up to half an hour, have a secret hideaway where they keep their H-bomb and this sets in motion too many sluggish scenes of both villains and heroes navigating through the depths.

As with most serials filmed during the dying days of their production, Zombies sports a relatively small cast with lots of old footage from earlier cliffhangers but it mostly works. Judd Holdren, a veteran of a number of serials, is bland but serviceable as Martin. Aline Towne, always better than most of the films she found herself in, has little to do here but hold down the fort while the heroes are off battling the bad guys (“Can I go with you this time?,” she pleads at one point.) Western heavy Lane Bradford is an odd choice for lead zombie Marex and John Crawford takes up the villainous slack as the head terrestrial criminal. Also on hand are Wilson Wood, Stanley Waxman, Craig Kelly, Ray Boyle and the stunt/actor team of Tom Steele and Dale Van Sickel. And if you listen closely you will hear Republic’s bad guy of all seasons—who is sorely missed in this effort—Roy Barcroft lending his voice to that of both an unseen radio announcer and a western wrangler in a scene lifted from an old Roy Rogers oater.

The aforementioned water sequences not withstanding, Zombies of the Stratosphere moves too quickly and has too many over-the-top elements coming at the viewer to stop for long to consider the incredible far-fetched scenario being viewed. Author Davidson not only manages to resurrect Republic’s famed water heater robot from 1940’s The Mysterious Dr. Satan (with scenes lifted from that serial) but takes advantage of the cold war atmosphere of the times and briefly brings the dreaded Ruskies into the storyline. 

Although there had been science-fiction elements in a number of their earlier cliffhangers, the post WWII world with its missiles, atomic power and reports of flying saucers provided new thematic blood to the tiring old serial plots. Whatever minimal logic there might have been in the serials of the past was jettisoned in favor of pushing the sci-fi envelope to the max, at least given the limited budgets and juvenile heroics inherent in chapter plays. Director Fred Brannon helms the action here with good pacing and, courtesy of the amazing Lydecker brothers, lots of flying sequences from the earlier Rocketmen efforts.  It’s probably the weakest of the three Rocketmen productions but still has many moments of Saturday matinee excitement and thrills.

November 2009

The MONSTER and the APE

(1945)

By Bruce Dettman

Robots caught on quick.

It was only a few years after Czechoslovakian author Karl Capek coined the term for his play R.U.R (which stood for Rostrum’s Universal Robots) that cinema took notice and began to integrate these metallic wonders into their storylines. The most famous robot to be found in silent pictures was the female “robotrix” portrayed by actress Bridget Helm from the German science-fiction film Metropolis produced in 1926. From then on not only did the term robot become a recognized part of the modern vernacular but part of movie history as well.

Nonetheless, until relatively recently, robots were rarely to be taken seriously save by the kids who flocked to theatres to see them menacing the hero or heroine in cliffhangers, fantasy movies and science-fiction thrillers. Robots could be found in everything from serials like Flash Gordon and The Phantom Creeps to more well-intentioned efforts such as Gog, Devil Girl from Mars, Tobor the Great, and Target Earth.  Robots have changed over the years, become more sophisticated than their earlier counterparts, but have never really gone out of style. My generation’s most well-known robot was Robby who made his debut in the science-fiction classic Forbidden Planet. Years later the phenomenal success of Star Wars made robot C3PO an overnight household name. As a kid, when I first got hooked on those serials shown on Saturday afternoon television, my personal favorite robot was from Republic Pictures’ The Mysterious Dr. Satan (1940).  Known among fans as the “walking water heater,” this studio creation appeared with some modifications in other serials as well.

Robots were rarely the centerpiece of most of the films they appeared in—usually being featured as the mad scientist or main villain’s artificial henchman—a good example being Columbia’s 1945 cliffhanger The Monster and The Ape.  Monster films were very big during this era so I suppose, despite the ongoing popularity of robots, the term monster was considered more of a box office lure for the kids.
In many ways Monster and The Ape borrows heavily from the better known Mysterious Dr. Satan in that the main thrust of the storyline is focused around the chief villain’s attempt to lay his hands on a remote control device that will allow him to command what he intends to be an army of obedient metallic slaves (as in Mysterious Dr. Satan we are only introduced to the single prototype) to do his bidding.

But there the similarities pretty much end. Whereas The Mysterious Dr. Satan is regarded as one of the best serials Republic Pictures ever produced, Columbia’s Monster and the Ape has little to recommend it save to those with a decided taste for the unintentionally laughable.

Its strongest asset is its cast which is unusually impressive for a serial.

The leading man (as engineer Ken Morgan) is Robert Lowery, a second stringer for most of his film career who appeared in many B films including Universal shockers The Mummy’s Ghost and House of Horrors. Lowery usually came across as a very serious, almost humorless individual which made him a bit of a bore in a lot of his films but which serves him well as a one-dimensional serial hero. Lead villain Ernst is portrayed by George Macready whose clipped delivery, fierce demeanor and intellectual decadence made him one of the best known villains of the period, his evil nature being showcased in such “A” productions as Gilda with Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford. Professor Arnold, the good scientist, is Ralph Morgan, brother of the better known Frank of Wizard of Oz fame. Morgan appeared in other serials, on both sides of the law, including Dick Tracy Versus Crime, Inc. and Gangbusters.  In the role of Arnold’s daughter Babs is Carole Mathews. The attractive and sophisticated Matthews lends a touch of class and spunky realism to the proceedings which regrettably cannot be said of Willie Best who antics are best left forgotten. Backing up Macready are familiar black hatters Jack Ingram, Anthony Warde, Eddie Parker and Stanley Price.

One of my chief complaints with The Monster and the Ape is that it goes on much too long. It should have been a twelve rather than a fifteen chapter cliffhanger. Things often drag on unmercifully. One entire chapter is practically taken up in its entirety by a protracted scene in which Anthony Warde returns the chained gorilla Thor back to his cage. Every moment of this journey—with the curious simian pausing at just about every juncture to examine some object of interest, however insignificant—is recorded with the frustrated Warde pulling on the chain and chastising the beast to get a move on. It’s simply interminable.

Still, even with some better editing and compression of plot and action, The Monster and the Ape still wouldn’t rank very highly as a serial. It had potential with its strong cast but the script by Sherman Lowe and Royal Cole is painfully redundant even by serial standards and the cliffhangers almost consistently unremarkable. The direction of journeyman Howard Bretherton is sluggish, disinterested and meandering, even the action stuff.

As far as our robot friend goes, he moves like a scowling, somewhat drunken Nazi Storm Trooper and hardly heads the list of filmdom’s most engaging or interesting metal men. He sounds much better on paper than how he appears in this serial which is pretty much a way of summing up the whole effort.

The best thing about The Monster and the Ape is its title. I imagine a lot of kids back then reading it on a marquee came away afterwards feeling pretty much the same.

September 2009

The New Adventures of Batman & Robin (1949)

By Bruce Dettman

Before home videos became and integral part of our daily lives, cinematic historians could often be found putting the kibosh on the chances of ever catching up with certain obscure cliffhangers. I specifically recall reading in the mid 1960s that due to copyright problems as well as disturbing reports that a number of films had mysteriously disappeared-such productions as Republic’s Lone Ranger, Drums of Fu Manchu, Jungle Girl, as well as Columbia’s The Phantom and Superman would never again be viewed by the general public. However, as soon as VCRs became nearly as popular as light beer, and studios took note of a small but rabid interest in many of their old properties (some of which turned up in sub-par bootleg editions which earned them nothing) a lot of so-called ‘lost’ movies began to quickly re-emerge. Funny what incentive a bit of the green stuff will often provide.

Columbia’s 1949 serial Batman & Robin, a sequel to the studio’s earlier Batman (1943) was never in this lost or misplaced category. As a matter of fact, as a part of the Batman craze then sweeping the nation in conjunction with the ABC series with Adam West and Burt Ward, both serials were shown around the country, particularly in college towns, for their camp quality. Unfortunately, I never saw the serials at that time. I did, however, exhibit a mild interest in the TV show (in truth, as a healthy high schooler, I evidenced more curiosity in Julie Newmar’s Catwoman than the Caped Crusaders) but, as with the majority of the public, it died quickly. Mostly I knew Batman from comic books although I was foremost a Superman fan. Still I picked them up sporadically, particularly those ‘World Finest’ editions where the Man of Steel teamed up with or, thanks to some lapse in memory or exposure to blue or white kryptonite, often warred against the cowled one.

Just about the time I was growing out of comic books (yes, there was a time when adults grew out of comic books) Batman and Superman were getting pretty silly. Anyone remember Bat-Mite, Bat-Dog or Super Monkey and Super Horse? Anyway, we all know what eventually happened to Batman. In the wake of other major comic character excesses he became big business; Michael Keaton beget Val Kilmer who beget George Clooney. The dark angst ridden Batman of creator Bob Kane’s strips returned with a baroque vengeance and to big box office bucks.  Interesting then at this juncture of Gotham City’s favorite son’s celluloid career to take a step backwards in time and examine the newly released 1949 cliffhanger Batman & Robin, the first of three Columbia productions which hit the video stores last summer.

For this sequel, filmed a full six years after the first, the cast was totally changed. Gone were the urbane, east coast accented--and rather gangly Lewis Wilson as Bruce Wayne and the spunky gee-whiz Douglas Croft as Robin to be replaced by Robert Lowery and Johnny Duncan respectfully. Lowery, a seasoned veteran of countless ‘B’ escapades rarely came off as likeable in his films. Whatever he wished to have projected, he invariably emerged as rude, sarcastic and arrogant (see The Mummy’s Ghost sometime where he practically insults the entire cast while trying to play an engaged college boy). As Wayne, when not being Don Diegoish around reporter Vicki Vale (Jane Adams), he is clipped and constipated (poor Alfred the Butler gets a lot of sarcastic verbal abuse). As Batman he seems to almost be contemptuous of his crime fighting duties like a kid forced to mow lawns on a hot baseball Saturday. Duncan, thick tongued and Brill-Creamed as Robin, looks not so much like the Boy Wonder as a long in the tooth juvenile who you wouldn’t want hanging around y our new set of whitewalls much less your teenage daughter. In fairness, much of this may be attributed to the super hero costumes the two are forced to wear, embarrassing sartorial deficiencies that no self-respecting mother would whip up for their kids’ Halloween costumes. Lowery’s cowl is particularly a bad job (although it seems for the sake of the action sequences there’s a better fit in the stuntman’s mask undoubtedly allowing him better visual latitude in the fight sequences). I can’t believe either actor felt comfortable or confident in these things. Perhaps it affected their attitudes on the set.

Joining in the cast are a great many familiar faces including the always dependable Lyle Talbot as Commissioner Gordon, William Fawcett as eccentric and feisty inventor Professor Hammil (though to me he’ll always be crusty Id Pete from TVs Fury series) and a host of bad guys including Don Harvey, Greg McClure, House Peters Jr. and Ralph Graves. Of course, this is a Columbia serial, another Sam Katzman bargain basement job where more comers are cut than in a high speed police chase. Gone is the Batmobile, replaced by a dusty Mercury. Batman & Robin stash their costumes in file drawers in the Bat Cave and there’s a submarine miniature that looks like the kind I used to power in my bathtub with baking soda. Well, you get the picture.

The plot concerns itself with the Dynamic Duo’s attempt to search for a remote control device stolen by a masked criminal mastermind know as The Wizard. It’s a long 15 chapters, poorly paced and without many exciting or cleverly engineered chapter endings. As usual in Columbia serials the fights are badly staged and the action sequences often awkwardly choreographed. I also hate the gong the studio too often used at the conclusion of each chapter to signal the hero’s dilemma. Listen, I love serials. I really do. There’s just enough of a kid in left to still suspend a lot of belief that other adults ordinarily can’t relinquish once they’ve ostensibly accepted society’s notion of mature conduct and tastes. Still, even in the context of fantasy and illusion, I need a little help getting through things, and that’s why so many of the Columbia serials, Batman & Robin included, make matters difficult. There is just too much sloppiness in continuity, story flow, abandoned logic and plot progression that one is constantly questioning what has gone before, what has actually happened and the motives of all characters. I know directors like John English and William Witney at Republic relied heavily on story boards to chart the action and plot. It is hard for me to believe the same care was taken at Columbia. Studio President Harry Cohn reportedly hated cliffhangers just as he did shorts. They were necessary evil, nothing more. He farmed them out to people like Sam Katzman who made certain that his directors such as Spencer Bennet were told to work fast, to deliver the goods a cheaply and quickly as possible and it shows. Boy, does it show!

This is not to say the Batman & Robin isn’t without merit or that it isn’t a fun, though uneven roller coaster ride at times. There is a naiveté and simplicity about it that is at times charming. The problem is that you just can’t help continually telling  yourself how much better it could easily have been with a little more time, a little more care, a little more money. What might have been is never far from your mind when you watch most Columbia serials but somehow this is particularly true with Batman & Robin.

July 2009

Adventures of

Captain Marvel

By Bruce Dettman

The legendary lawsuit waged between Captain Marvel of Fawcett Publications and the Superman folks over at Detective Comics, which ultimately put the Captain out of the print business, was a bit ahead of my time. Yet thanks to a smart trade, I did have one of his early comics in my collection (regrettably long gone—Thanks, mom!) that showcased not only Cap, but Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel Jr. as well. At the time I remember not being terribly impressed by the character, viewing him as a sort of anemic Superman clone and, to be honest, couldn’t have cared less that a few lawyers, rather than some diabolical fiend, had curtailed his crime-fighting career. I suppose lots of people agreed with me on this issue (even though in his heyday he was outselling The Man of Steel) and as Superman’s fame grew into something more substantial than merely a pulp character, his exploits explored beyond comics in film, radio and television, the schism between the two heroes grew wider and more pronounced.

The one area, however, where Captain Marvel had it all over Krypton’s favorite son was on the screen. While Columbia’s two Superman serials, produced in the late ‘40s, did well at the box office and were occasionally entertaining in crude sort of way, Republic’s 1941 effort Adventures of Captain Marvel is considered by many serial aficionados to be one of the greatest, if not the greatest serials ever produced. And there’s much to support this view. Unlike the original WHIZ comic book origin of the character where Billy Batson first turns into Captain Marvel in a New York subway, he’s depicted here as the junior member of a scientific expedition visiting Siam in search of facts about the ancient Scorpion Dynasty. Accidentally separated from his fellow explorers in a tomb, young Batson is confronted by Shazam, the holy shrine’s guardian, who bestows upon him the magical powers to transform into Captain Marvel whenever he utters the word “Shazam”.

For the rest of the serial, Billy/Captain Marvel makes it his business to protect the expedition—who have uncovered The Scorpion, a dangerously powerful weapon consisting of five lenses which are divided between the group—from the hooded Scorpion and his henchmen who also seek the incredible device. One of the prime reasons Captain Marvel stands out as a serial character, at least for me, is his absolutely unpolluted commitment to deal with his adversaries in the most no-nonsense and direct manner possible. This is one good guy you just didn’t get many second chances to tangle with, not once he had his mitts on you. As portrayed by Tom Tyler, a champion weightlifter whose other screen credits included playing The Phantom, The Mummy and numerous cowboy heroes, Marvel disposes of villains like a hungry great-white going after tuna and with just about as much soul searching. Whereas Kirk Alyn’s Superman is a bit of a smug bully boy, Tyler’s Captain Marvel is an angry, steely-eyed avenger with no patience for society’s wrongdoers. His motto is eradication and that’s just what he does. Whether machine gunning a retreating group of desert tribesman or systematically hurling assorted baddies off a skyscraper roof, Captain Marvel is all business. Tyler has little dialog to work with—in fact, his weakest moments come when he has to appear human and converse—but the actor looks great in his tights and when doling out punishment possesses a nasty countenance which served him well as Kharis in The Mummy’s Hand.

Stuntman extraordinaire Dave Sharpe handled all the excessive physical demands with great leaps and landing and was it not for Sharpe’s bushy hair which contrasts with Tyler’s slicked back locks; it would be hard to spot the difference. Particularly effective are the shots of the Lydecker brothers’ amazing Captain Marvel dummy flying over the landscape, beautifully integrated with the takeoffs and landings of Tyler/Sharpe. For kids in the 40s, and to a degree even today, these images were the things which dreams are made of.

The supporting cast is equally satisfying. Frank Coghlin makes an energetic and earnest Billy Batson and the usual stable of Republic players led by familiars Robert Strange, Kenne Duncan, John Davidson, Jack Mulhall and George Pembroke are all good. Louise Currie is a spunky and attractive heroine. Reed Hadley, a year after portraying the masked man in Zorro’s Fighting Legion, shows up as a local tribesman. Gerald Mohr (or at least his menacing voice) as The Scorpion is a worthy foe for the Captain and Billy Batson in his signature role as the hero’s youthful sidekick (of course named Whitey) is always enjoyable. If you’re a serial fan there is little in this production to fault. Co-directors Witney and English were never better at choreographing their action or in creating atmosphere and tension, even when you knew Captain Marvel would surely find a way out of his dilemmas. It’s wonderfully paced, photographed and scored and the stunts are terrifically crafted.

For slam-bang, relentless, unpunctuated action and thrills, this is a must see. Aside from the wide variety of exciting cliffhanger situations it delivers, it also has, thanks to footage lifted from several other big-budget films cleverly slipped into the action, a larger and more lavish look than most serials. After nearly 70 years, Adventures of Captain Marvel is still a treasure. As was William Witney.  

June 2009

FEDERAL OPERATOR 99 (1945)

By Bruce Dettman

During the so-called Golden Years of Hollywood whenever the studios needed to depict a character playing classical music on the piano they invariably chose Beethoven’s familiar (some might say overly familiar) Piano Sonata Number 14, more popularly known as The Moonlight Sonata (and for the record, when it was necessary for organ music to be introduced it was more often than not Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor). While this was ok in a feature film when it was a single moment in the celluloid proceedings, it became pretty repetitious, even downright annoying in the Republic serial Federal Operator 99 when the chief bad guy and gangland kingpin Jim Belmont (one of the studio’s more benign and commonplace monikers for their villains) played snatches of the piece in just about every one of the twelve chapters. On would think that Belmont (played with greasy charm by George Lewis in what was probably his best role in a serial) would have mastered at least one other piece of music—even Chopsticks—but apparently this was not the case.

This aside, Federal Operator 99 is a pretty satisfying serial. Directed by a trio of old pros, Spencer Bennet, Wallace Grissell and stuntman extraordinaire Yakima Canutt, it is a fast-paced and entertaining cliffhanger with lots of exciting chapter endings, mostly solid performances and good action. A straight cops and robbers scenario, it lacks the accoutrements of the wilder serials with their extraordinary gadgetry and bigger than life hero and villain, but there is a sturdiness and sincerity about it which makes up for this.

The storyline by Albert De Mond, Basil Dickey, Jesse Duffy and Joseph Poland follows Jerry Blake, Federal Operator 99 (as in most serials, he is never identified specifically with the F.B.I.)  trying to round up the aforementioned Jim Belmont, one of the nation’s most notorious criminals, following his escape from a train on the way to prison.

During the course of the action, Belmont hatches a series of crimes and schemes that keep the intrepid Blake very busy.

The British Born (1911) Marten (Sometimes billed as Martin) Lamont is on the face of it a rather odd choice for a serial hero. With his English accent and a less than impressive physical presence (face it, he just doesn’t look tough) he just seems out of his league when facing the likes of Dale van Sickle or Tom Steele, but the usual great Republic stunt work when he is being doubled quickly makes you a believer. A mostly second or third tier player in films (including parts in such big productions as  The Adventures of Robin Hood, How Green Was My Valley and Pride and Prejudice) he had also been a feature writer for Time Magazine and a producer at NBC radio. Federal Operator 99 was his first and only starring role in a cliffhanger but he had appeared earlier in small roles in both The Adventures of Captain Marvel and The Mysterious Dr. Satan, two of the best chapter plays ever produced. Federal Operator 99 is not in the same league, but it’s a solid and enjoyable effort and much of the credit must go to Lamont who plays the part in a sober and realistic manner bringing a sense of earnestness and believability to a role that could have just as easily been phoned in.

In addition to the aforementioned Lamont and Lewis, Federal Operator 99 boasts a particularly strong cliffhanger cast. One weak link, however, is Helen Talbot as Joyce, the titular female tagalong and convenient victim for Blake to rescue. At best, Ms. Talbot, who appeared in one other cliffhanger, the studio’s King of The Forest Rangers the next year,  is peppy and pert but there is something almost distractingly collegiate about her as if she is moonlighting from a sorority bash to help out Blake as a kind of lark. She isn’t much of an actress and it shows. Fortunately, countering her gee-wiz theatrics, we have the always dependable Lorna Gray as Rita, one of Belmont’s nefarious team. Gray (who also acted under the name of Adrian Booth) had the talent and looks to handle just about any role, even when cast opposite The Three Stooges (I always thought she would have made an outstanding Lois Lane), and doesn’t disappoint here. She’s not the over-the-top villainess Vultura who she portrayed so terrifically in 1942’s Perils of Nyoka, but her Rita is street smart, sassy and about as nice to look at as she is untrustworthy and deceitful. Neither Ms. Talbot nor Ms. Gray is ever given a wardrobe change – which I’m sure neither actress appreciated – but do get to meet up for a nice, albeit short-lived tussle in the front seat of a truck.

Others in the cast include Hal Taliaferro as chief henchman Matt, Leroy Mason, Bill Stevens, Maurice Cass, Forrest Taylor, Jack Ingram, Jay Novello and Tom London.

Federal Operator 99 boasts some nifty cliffhangers here with Ms. Talbot usually being the recipient of the potential dangers. She is tied up and almost sliced and diced by an airplane propeller not to mention gassed and nearly baked alive in an industrial incinerator. The oddest cliffhanger for me, however, is when Blake, riding a motorcycle, is sent hurdling over a cliff. The dummy, designed by the Lydecker boys, seems to be making a right hand turn signal in mid-air before plunging into the waters below. Safety first.

Admittedly,  Federal Operator 99 on paper looks fairly routine and not all that imaginative a concept, but because of pleasing performances, a satisfying if offbeat hero, good action and solid directorial pacing it succeeds surprisingly well. It’s not an “A” caliber serial by any means, but it’s still a good and entertaining one.

May 2009

The Phantom

 By Bruce Dettman

I believe it was in the third grade when I decided to go ‘trick or treating’ as the Phantom. I’m not exactly certain why this was since I traditionally emulated characters I was fanatical about such as Superman, the Wolfman or Zorro. In this case, I really knew very little about the history and mythology of Lee Falk’s famous creation since there was no Phantom TV show, the serial was never shown in my theatres and I didn’t regularly follow the comic strip. All I really knew was that I thought his purple getup with the mask and two holstered pistol set looked pretty cool. Later, when I became interested in cliffhanger history, I saw stills of Tom Tyler in costume and was amazed at how much he resembled his fictional counterpart. I yearned to see the Columbia product, but kept reading it, like a lot of other serials, was lost and unlikely to ever be seen again. However, thanks largely to the video revolution, this is no longer the case and recently I was able to finally catch up with the long illusive chapter play. How would it hold up?

Thematically, the plot of The Phantom owes a great deal to Adventures of Captain Marvel ’41 which, of course, also starred Tyler, Professor Davidson (Frank Shannon—Dr. Zarkov in Flash Gordon serial) and his daughter Diana (Jeanne Bates) are seeking the lost African city of Zoloz, the legendary location of great hidden treasure. Also attempting to get to the loot first are local crook Singapore Smith (Joe Devlin) and international racketeer Dr. Bremmer (Kenneth MacDonald). Fortunately for the Davidson’s, the mysterious Phantom is in their corner and single-handedly braves fire, explosions and all manner of deathtraps to aid them. But wait now, ‘single-handedly’ is perhaps an inaccurate descriptive phrase. For the record, although the Phantom is strong of limb, exerts an almost supernatural influence over the local natives, has a command of magic and occasionally manages to cleverly extricate himself from some near fatal cliffhangers, it is more often than not his canine comrade Devil (brilliantly played by Ace, the Wonder Dog) who should receive the most credit for showing up in the nick of time. Were it not for Devil, the Phantom would have been sunk in quicksand, devoured by an alligator and riddled by shotgun pellets. Yet each time the Phantom cheats death thanks to his tail-wagging pal, his response is to remind his native servant to tie up the heroic dog so he won’t tag along in the future. Fortunately for The Phantom’s hide, Devil always manages to break free and body guard his unappreciative master.

The 15 chapters, directed by B. Reeves Eason, are a cut above other Columbia serials as far as pacing and action are concerned with several of the cliffhangers rather unique. On the downside, however, the stock animal footage, cheesy jungle sets and limited locations give the proceedings a highly restrictive and claustrophobic feel. The music is credited to Lee Zahler, but on several occasions I distinctly heard cues for some of Cy Feuer’s Republic scores, particularly Mysterious Doctor Satan. Moreover, since the same gang of technicians at Columbia were responsible for the sound effects in the studio’s Three Stooges shorts. I couldn’t help think of ‘The Boys’ when the Phantom was punching it out with some baddie, and the fact that Kenneth MacDonald, often a Stooge villain, was also the Phantom’s nemesis didn’t help matters, but that’s my problem. Another complaint is that much too much time, sometimes up to three minutes, is spent showing what went on in the previous episode. 

In the casting department, Tom Tyler delivers a fine, controlled, heroic performance as the masked hero (whose outfit in the print I watched kept changing from what appeared to jet black to a softer gray); although I prefer his steely-eyed, no-nonsense work in Captain Marvel. Jeanne Bates is a real cutie as the much put upon heroine with an almost modern independent streak and the aforementioned MacDonald is his usual slimy gentlemanly self. There are, however, several excruciatingly bad performances, particularly from the gal who masquerades as a jungle princess. And again, Ace as Devil is quite impressive, although director Eason really should have removed him from all scenes involving fisticuffs as the frenetic animal frantically interjects itself in each slugfest almost tripping up the combatants. I must also mention the fact that, in my copy of Chapter 11, something quite jarring occurs. Apparently, the legitimate soundtrack was lost because the actual voices of Tyler and the rest are gone, replaced by what sounds like modern impersonators, and not very good ones at that. The result is a rather comical one and somewhat suggestive of those bottom of the barrel European and Mexican B films of the ‘60s quickly dubbed into English. Luckily, this problem is only evident in the one chapter.

The Phantom is certainly not one of the great serials—economic short cuts, an uneven script and some poor performances work too much against it—but it’s definitely a game attempt at transferring the character to the big screen. Short-comings aside, I’d still rather sit through it a dozen times—and possibly even a real alligator attack—than the recent Phantom film with Billy Zane.

April 2009

SON OF ZORRO (1947)

By Bruce Dettman

Unlike the Lone Ranger—who we only know had a brother who was murdered in an outlaw ambush, an act which set in motion the events that would ultimately lead to his wounded sibling taking up the mantle of the legendary masked man—and a young nephew named Dan Reid who occasionally helped out the Ranger and Tonto, both on radio and later on TV, Zorro turned out to be quite an active family man. Although the chronology of these descendents can be rather confusing to chart due to inconsistencies in historical time and place, it is obvious that the senior Zorro bequeathed to his offspring his legendary prowess as a righter of wrongs, many of who opted to take up this heroic role and do something about injustices in their own times. Republic Studios, the best home cliffhangers ever had, produced two legitimate Zorro efforts, the feature film The Bold Caballero starring Robert Livingston in 1936, and the superior serial Zorro’s Fighting Legion (1939) featuring Reed Hadley. Aside from these two outings, however, it was Zorro’s relations who filled the screens with chapter plays of thrills and adventure. John Carroll was Zorro’s great grandson in 1937’s Zorro Rides Again, an exciting cliffhanger set in (then) modern times and Clayton Moore, in his pre-Lone Ranger days, became Ken Mason, Zorro’s grandson in Ghost of Zorro (1949) an adventure set in the old west. There was also Zorro’s Black Whip produced in 1944 and starring Linda Sterling as Barbara Meredith, aka “The Black Whip” (an identity inherited from her murdered brother Randy) which has no other connection with Zorro save the name as referenced in the title and the mask and costume. Whether there was some distant relationship between Zorro and the Black Whip, perhaps competing cousins of some sort bent on establishing their own heroic identities (but using the same mail order costume company), has yet to be established. This aside, this brings us to The Son of Zorro, produced in 1947 and starring George Turner as Jeff Stewart who only mentions in passing that  Zorro was an “ancestor on my mother’s side.” Where the “son” business comes from is anyone’s guess.

Despite the traditional western outfits and weapons (Colt peacemakers and such) this serial is actually set just following the Civil War and involves Stewart returning home only to discover that the community has been taken over by a band of crooked politicians bent on destroying the locals with a crippling toll tax levied on their roads. Since normal resistance meets with no success in such a corrupt environment Jeff elect to get out the old Zorro duds and do something about it which he does for thirteen relatively entertaining chapters.

Most of the later Zorro serials follow fairly established formulas, even more so than other serials. For instance, all of them seem to have a chapter where Zorro’s is apparently unmasked until it is revealed (in the subsequent chapter) that someone else—usually his servant—has conveniently borrowed the masked man’s outfit to protect his identity. Because the costumes stay the same from one serial to another—with a few slight sartorial differences—lots of old footage is incorporated into each new installment of Zorro’s career.

The cast is a mixed bag but ok.

George Turner, who had few other credits to his name, has a certain boyish charm but is very slight of frame and does not appear particularly formidable as Zorro. Peggy Turner, a stable in both serials and “B” westerns, is attractive and always appealing, but Stanley Price, generally featured in cliffhanger roles on the villainous side of the fence, is woefully miscast here as the masked man’s Mexican assistant Pancho. Otherwise the cast is filled with a host of familiar faces including the Republic’s villain of all seasons Roy Barcroft, Ernie Adams, Edward Cassidy as one of the most blatantly corrupt lawmen you will find this side of Washington D.C., Edmund Cobb, Ken Terrell, actors/stuntmen Eddie Parker, Dale Van Sickle and Tom Steele, Si Jenks and Jack Kirk.

The directorial team of Spencer Bennet and Fred Brannon are no William Witney and John English, but they keep things moving at a satisfying pace even if everything is pretty predictable even by serial standards. The cliffhangers are the usual western sort, no  room in the old west for the sort of wild scientific stuff that was part and parcel of serials set in modern times. Therefore you get a lot of wagons over cliffs, dynamited buildings and dwellings set afire.

Still The Son of Zorro tries his best to be a chip off the old block and do his distant relative proud even if sometimes he just doesn’t seem quite up to the task. But then the original Zorro is a tough act to follow.

Or just maybe he was adopted.

March 2009

Cliffhanger Commentary:

The Black Widow

By Bruce Dettman

In the waning days of the serial, with the studio system tottering on its last arthritic legs and unwilling to spend much on this dying cinematic genre, and the infant terrible, TV, waiting in the wings to flex its growing muscles, the makers of cliffhangers had several options before eventually calling it quits. The first was to come up with something new, a unique character or theme to excite audiences and make them forget the tried and true serial formula.

A good example of this would be the creation of the Rocketman character who appeared in various incarnations in four different Republic chapter plays, (‘King of the Rocketmen’, ‘Radar Men of the Moon’, ‘Zombies of the Stratosphere’ and ‘Commando Cody, Sky Marshal of the Universe’). Another cost-cutting device was to integrate as much pre-existing footage from old serials into new products as possible so fewer scenes, particularly those expensive ones requiring action setups and often costly miniatures and models, would not have to be newly filmed. The third idea, undoubtedly spearheaded by writers who had pretty much run out of traditional concepts and exhausted most conventional plotlines (well, conventional as far as serials were concerned), was to totally lay aside logic, to try anything that might come to mind…to go for broke, as it were.

 ‘Black Widow’, produced by Republic in ’47, and helmed by the directorial combination of Spencer Bennet and Fred Brannon, did not create any new characters or give audiences and exciting hero to root for (just the opposite in fact) but certainly did utilize a lot of old footage—thanks to an oddball screenplay by Franklin Adreon, Basil Dickey, Jeffrey Duffy and Sol Shor—as well as introducing a pretty quirky storyline beneath what on the surface just looked like another in the studio’s standard crime cliffhangers. Bruce Edwards as hero Steven Colt, a mystery writer who has turned his literary sleuthing towards solving a real crime, moves through this serial like a snail on valium. He exudes absolutely or pizzazz of any sort and reminds me of my junior high school vice-principal Mr. Kranz who should have taught a class on narcolepsy. It’s very difficult to watch this somnambulistic character lazily interrogate some bad guy and the, thanks to Tom Steele’s stunt work, instantly be transformed into a kinetic barroom brawler with the metabolism of a hummingbird. Just doesn’t quite jell. On the other hand, co-star Virginia Lindley (other times billed as Lee) as reporter Joyce Winters, is spunky with a peppy personality who, in addition, exudes a kind of mild contempt for the literary criminologist turned shamus (with derision she often refers to him as ‘Sherlock’) but this doesn’t seem to bother him. Little does.

The bad guys (and a gal) are an improvement and on occasion I almost found myself rooting for them instead. First up is Carol Forman as Sombra. Now, as readers of SR might be aware, I was not much of a fan of Forman’s performances in Columbia’s ‘Superman’ serial where, in her Barbara Stanwyck ‘Double Indemnity’ blonde wig and evening gown, she appeared pretty ridiculous as the main villainess, the Spider Lady. Here, however, she’s a vast improvement. Looking quite smashing with her dark locks and eye-pleasing tight Oriental dress, she projects a commendable sense of contempt and indifference at the  plight of all those she attempts to destroy at the request of her father, world conquering wannabe King Hitomu who she regularly calls upon via a scientific  gizmo, a sort of matter transporter. She’s one of Republic’s better female villains, and as I said, looks quite fetching as well. Her father is portrayed by sometime actor Theodore Gottlieb who had and oddball career in his own right. I saw him interviewed years later under the name ‘Brother Theodore’ when, as a comedian, he was doing standup work and also professed to having certain occult powers. For awhile he showed up periodically on the David Letterman show.

In any case, despite his grandiose plans of taking over the world, provided he lay his hands on a newly developed rocket engine, the diminutive and rather fierce looking actor has little to do in the serial except appear for a few moments in most every episode seated on a throne wearing what appears to an Arabian Nights costume to bark orders at Sombra. Using a phony mind reading business as a front, the obedient offspring—who sometimes uses spider venom to rid herself of adversaries—attempts, rarely with success, to carry out his various his various missions and devilish plans with the help of henchman Anthony Ward. Other cast members include the always reliable I. Stanford Jolley, Forrest Taylor, Sam Flint, Ernie Adams, Gene Roth, the beautiful Ramsey Ames and Keith Richards.

Like most of the later Republic efforts, this one relies heavily on a great deal of studio stock footage from earlier cliffhangers but that’s a given at this point. Anytime you spot the familiar coupe you know you’re in for a lot of old shots. Speaking of automobiles, this gang has theirs equipped with a nifty little special feature which allows them to change the color of their car by the mere touch of a switch which ejects a spray of paint changing the color of the vehicle. Why the paint does also cover the windshield and tires is not revealed. Despite the tepid hero who makes one yearn for the likes of Charles Quigley, Kane Richmond, Ralph Byrd and others, there’s something mildly entertaining about this serial. It’s certainly not up there with the great ones, but its screwy premise and characters, capable cast and willingness to suspend all sense of logic and belief makes it kind of amusing, strangely endearing and, well, fun.

February 2009

Cliffhanger commentary

The Tiger Woman (1944)

By Bruce Dettman

It sometimes amazes me the things Hollywood could get away with in serials which never would have made it past the boys at the Breen Office or for that matter any of the other regulatory agencies that policed movies in the Golden Days of the movies. Did they even bother to take a gander at the content of cliffhangers which were, at least in theory, primarily aimed at juvenile audiences, the group most would think of when considering protection from gratuitous violence and or moral and social corruption? Take Republic Studio’s 1944’s Tiger Woman for instance. The audience is no sooner drawn into Chapter One than it is introduced to the title character, the reigning queen of a certain undisclosed country who presides over the territory and safeguards her subjects with a feverish intensity. Interlopers are not merely escorted to the border with a stern order not to return and a minor slap on the wrist, but are summarily tied to a rope and dangled over a stalactite infested subterranean cave and dropped into a lake of volcanic fire below. Talk about a quick cure for an immigration problem. It also becomes fairly obvious from the dialog that this isn’t a once in a lifetime episode, but rather than this sort of cold blooded and horrific sacrifice goes on all the time thanks to the Tiger Woman. Or as one native character explains “Once the Tiger Woman gets her hand on a white man it’s the end.” And she’s the heroine of the film!! Can you imagine if a mainstream film of the same period tried to foist off a central female character responsible for such wanton murder? Even Joan Crawford in her fullback shoulder pads and at her nastiest couldn’t get away with it. Of course, the heroes of this serial work for a huge oil company and I think you’d have a hard time getting away with this one as well.

In any case The Tiger Woman (who inexplicably sports a leopard spotted outfit which is not nearly as appealing as Francis Gifford’s earlier Jungle Girl getup and at times looks more something a Ziegfeld girl or Radio City Rockette might sport) is played by Republic’s then newest female discovery Linda Stirling, a former model whose first foray into cliffhangers this was. According to Ms. Sterling, her studio audition was more in the nature of an athletic test than a traditional acting scene. And this would certainly come in handy in a serial such as Tiger Woman where the heroine gets involved much more with physical action than in other less athletically demanding chapter plays.  Whether riding, shooting or employing judo moves, this is one lady who is not afraid to mix it up.

She does have help, however, in the person of intrepid heroes Allen Saunders (Alan Lane), later the popular (save with his co-stars) star of many B westerns, and the always reliable (and future Cisco Kid) Duncan Renaldo as Jose who for a short time in his career seemed to always show up in serials as the hero’s staunch allay. Lane is not much of an actor, painfully stiff and rigid (even for a serial hero), but Renaldo,  as always, is relaxed and enjoyable to watch. Fleshing out the cast, mostly as villains, are familiar serial mugs George Lewis, LeRoy Mason, Robert Frazer, Keene Duncan, Stanley Price plus a large contingency of the studio’s actor/stuntmen including Tom Steele, Duke Green, Eddie Parker (the same year he doubled Glenn Strange in House of Frankenstein), Ken Terrell and Cliff Lyons.

Veteran director Spencer Gordon Bennet helms this time with the aid of Wallace Grissell from a script by Royle Cole, Grant Nelson, Jesse Duffy, Basil Dickey and Ronald Davidson. There’s only one Lydecker in the credits this time, Brother Theo, but he’s more than up to the challenge of creating the necessary miniatures and special effects of which there are some good ones. I particularly enjoyed the rapid-tossed boat going over the cliff in Chapter Four.

The plot has two rival oil companies—one bad, one good—vying for a patch of oil rich land controlled by The Tiger Woman and her subjects, a race of brown-skinned, blow pipe wielding natives. In reality our feline gal is none other than Rita Arnold, the heiress to a vast fortune who as a small child was lost in the jungle following a plane crash. The villains decide, since she seems to prefer the overtures of Saunders and Jose, to knock her off and substitute a replacement for her who will sanctum their drilling but it doesn’t quite turn out that way and lots of action and mayhem and action ensue.

The Tiger Woman is a good solid serial. Lots of action and for a novice actress, Sterling is appealing, likable, decorative and convincing in the action sequences. No wonder Republic decided to employ her services in many more serials. Good pacing and lots of exciting tight corners elevate this one to B+ status.

January 2009

Cliffhanger commentary

The Scarlet Horseman

By Bruce Dettman

I’ve always had a thing for masks. I even have a modest collection culled from various countries prominently displayed on my living room wall. As a kid—and wouldn’t the shrinks have fun with this?—this fascination led me to fashion a whole array of homemade facial coverings which I regularly donned at play, as well as following with great enthusiasm all the various masked heroes on the silver screen, a great many of them being featured in serials. There was Zorro and my old favorite the Copperhead from Republics’ Mysterious Doctor Satan. And, of course, the Lone Ranger. Everyone, it seemed, eventually turned up on occasion wanting their mugs concealed, from Buck Jones to the Durango Kid.

The Scarlet Horseman, a 1946 Universal serial, isn’t one of your better-known masked daredevils. I recall seeing a few chapters of this sometime in the late 50s and finding the hero’s costume somewhat bizarre, a reaction unchanged by the years. The shiny blouse and baggy trousers are bad enough (suggesting the kind of festive outfit you’d expect on a gypsy), but the mask with the big eyeholes and the drooping, pillow case-like sides gives the Horseman the appearance of a most bedraggled and unhappy rabbit.

Anyway, for a cliffhanger, the plot, as created by screenwriters Tom Gibson, Patricia Harper and Joseph O’Donnell, is somewhat complex and overly embroidered. It has to do with a plan to break up 1875 Texas into several parts. In order to accomplish this, the villains of the piece kidnap the wives and daughters of prominent state legislators and hold them prisoner in order to force their spouses to do their political bidding. Working against them, however, are two Texas investigators—one of whom dons the trappings of a Comanche god called The Scarlet Horseman—and a Wells Fargo Agent. There are a few subplots as well and numerous characters, both bad and good (and with peculiar names like Zero Quick), to keep track of. Personally, I like my serials a bit leaner in the plot department.

A couple of other things bothered me about this serial, small things really, but they kept repeating themselves which is often the case in cliffhangers since every week producers knew they might be catching a paying customer yet unfamiliar with the storyline. There are the sounds of the Scarlet Horseman’s horse’s hooves, exaggerated by the studio magic so you’d swear the guy was riding through an echo chamber or his shower stall rather than over the dry prairie. Even more disconcerting, however, is the five-note bugle calls heard each time the Horseman makes an appearance. At first I couldn’t figure out who was playing the thing—it couldn’t just be a musical cue since other characters make reference to it—but I finally realized he was blowing his own theme song on a kind of kazoo. “Doot-ta-doot-ta-do!”

Paul Guilfoyle is an odd choice for the Scarlet Horseman. With his worn and craggy hound-dog features he was usually cast in films as petty crooks, bums and unsavory squealers, although he isn’t bad in the part. His partners are Peter Cookson, who handles most of the action stuff (there’s just no way the Horseman could effectively duke it out that mask on), and Harold Goodman. Villains and supporting characters include familiar faces like Jack Ingram, Edmund Cobb, Danny Morton, Cy Kendall (as a Mexican no less) and Guy Wilkerson (in the part of a Shakespeare quoting baddie) with Virginia Christine as the brains behind the villainy and Victoria Horne as her Indian confederate. Uncredited players include Paul Birch and Ellen Corby (of TV Waltons fame). I could be wrong in this, but I also believe Milburn Stone is the narrator.

There’s lots of economic corner cutting in Scarlet Horseman with a great deal of footage from earlier (and better) Universal serials. As soon as Cookson inexplicably dons an all black outfit you just know he’s going to be matched with some shots of an earlier serial western hero, in this case I believe it’s Dick Foran (or at least Foran’s stuntman). The cliffhangers are predictable stuff for a sagebrush serial: stampeding horses, falls off cliffs, rampaging steers, barn fires etc. Directors Ray Taylor and Lewis Collins try to keep the pace going, but there’s generally too much talk, too many characters and a leaden, ponderous feeling to the whole thing, mask or no mask.

December 2008

FEDERAL AGENTS VERSES UNDERWORLD, INC. (1949)

By Bruce Dettman

J. Edgar Hoover, the dictatorial head of the F.B.I. for the better part of the 20^th Century, knew early on the power and importance of film, moreover that if used correctly it could serve his career and political agenda well. He consequently made it a point to ensure that depictions of the F.B.I. in movies be in keeping with the professional image of the organization that he had taken such pains to tailor and promote. He liked his agents to be clean-cut, mature and professional. He also wanted them to be single-minded in their objective of ridding America of crime (although he usually kept his distance from the Mafia which he realized he probably could not do a lot about). Nonetheless, most early film depictions of federal agents were pretty stereotypical and unremarkable not to mention unrealistic. Hoover was rarely impressed by the film and television images of his agents whether depicted in “A” movies with actors like James Cagney or scores of “Bs” made in the 1930 and 40s. Despite a few acceptable glimpses of bureau methodology in efforts such as The House on 922^nd Street, it really wasn’t until the 60’s TV series The F.B.I. starring Efrem Zimbalist Jr.—when the network had to run just about everything past the director for a green light on production—that he got the look and feel of the F.B.I. that he desired.

Who knows what, if anything, Hoover might have thought of the way his men were portrayed in cliffhangers, the gaggle of incompetent federal men from The Mysterious Dr. Satan (Republic, 1940) for instance, who make fools of themselves by being caught in the good doctor’s house of traps and snares? It’s doubtful that he would have been amused or entertained though it has been reported that he enjoyed comic books, particularly Dick Tracy.

Federal Agents Verses Underworld, Inc., produced by Republic Pictures in 1949, is neither particularly amusing (intended or not) and really not all that entertaining either. Coming along as the popularity of the motion picture serial began to wane and studios started to lose all interest in the genre, it is slow moving without a great deal of inventiveness on the part of the director (Fred Brannon) or energy from the assembled players. It is not a terrible serial but it not a very good one either. It doesn’t even benefit from the unintentional humor that often characterized and underscored some of the later chapter plays when writers and directors would periodically toss some pretty bizarre stuff into the celluloid mix to spice things up.  It just plods along, rarely if ever offering anything even remotely exciting or unique.

The storyline, fashioned by writers Royal Cole, Basil Dickey, William Lively and Sol Shor, borrows from numerous older (and better) serials including a chief thematic ingredient lifted from The Adventures of Captain Marvel, namely the search for a the partner to a certain Golden Hand which when combined with its mate is said to bestow upon the owner great knowledge and power (in Marvel it was the restoration of five lenses to a magical Golden Scorpion). Hot on the trail is Nila (Carol Forman), a mysterious woman who wishes to locate the treasure in order to create a united criminal organization, Underworld Inc., but also on the scent, and opposing her at every nefarious turn, is intrepid government agent David Worth (Kirk Alyn).

For twelve extremely ordinary chapters Nila tries everything in her nasty bag of tricks to find the Golden Hand and eliminate Worth but frankly is not very good at either. Not that the F.B.I. agent is world class in the brain department either. For instance in one chapter Worth intentionally parachutes onto a moving train and is almost is killed in the process. In another episode he decides to prevent a plane from taking off by accidentally driving a car into it nearly blowing himself up.

I never much liked Kirk Alyn as Superman when he played the Man of Steel in two serials over at Columbia, but he’s ok here although there is nothing particularly memorable in his characterization of the G-Men other than his tendency when in immediate danger to make his eyes very big as if about to pop out of his head cartoon style. Regrettably this creates a more comical effect than anything else and detracts from the gravity of the situations he often finds himself in.

Carol Forman, always attractive and a good actress, is her usual surly and unpleasant self as Nila, not quite as memorable as she was in the later chapterplay The Black Widow where her evil was a bit more effectively restrained and layered, but is an improvement over her turn as The Spider Lady in the first Superman serial where she never really seemed a worthy criminal adversary. She is best here in her numerous scenes with the always welcome Roy Barcroft who saved many a cliffhanger from the ineffectiveness of other actors, which brings me to the rest of the cast of Federal Agents Versus Underworld, Inc.

Alyn’s investigator assistant Steve Evans is portrayed by a young actor named James Dale who has to be one of the dullest sidekicks in serial history. I kept seriously wondering if he was on medication during the shoot. He’s just along for the ride and hardly that. Rosemary La Planche, a former Miss America (1941), is pretty but little else. Female roles in serials are rarely plumbs, but a number of actresses have managed to bring a few sparks to their portrayals, but Ms. La Planche can not be said to even do this. Bruce Edwards, who would turn up later as the lead in the studio’s The Black Widow, has the thankless role of Professor Williams who is drugged by the bad guys and controlled into helping their evil cause. When he is killed no one even cares or looks into why he suddenly behaved in such an uncharacteristic manner. Backing up the main characters are such serial stalwarts as Dale Van Sickle (who has a brief speaking part as one of the gang impersonating Professor Graves, a kidnapped scientist), Tom Steele, Tristram Coffin, Marshall Reed, James Craven and Robert Wilke.

There’s a lot of old footage here and what new action there is seems tired and overly familiar. The whole thing has re-tread written all over it in big capital letters that even the most ardent serial devotee can’t ignore.  No pizzazz, no zip, no fire in the proverbial belly. It’s all been done before and much better. Even the kid that still resides in me had a big problem staying with it. Had I still had my three-gear Schwinn out in the backyard I might have even forgotten Alyn and company and gone out and had a long ride on it. But the only thing in my backyard these days are weeds.

November 2008

CliffHanger COMMENTARY:

‘The Invisible Monster’
BY Bruce Dettman

Invisibility has long fascinated filmgoers harkening back to 1931 when Universal director James Whale opted to follow-up his classic production of Frankenstein with a cinematic adaptation of British author H.G. Wells’ tremendously popular novel The Invisible Man starring then unknown Claude Rains.

A series of predictable and unremarkable sequels followed culminating with the Transparent One having a not altogether successful run-in with comedians Bud Abbot and Lou Costello. Other non-Universal Invisible Men also showed up through the years from competing film companies including The Body Disappears and The Amazing Transparent Man up to the recent Hollow Man with Kevin Bacon. There were even three separate TV series built around an invisible protagonist. Not surprising then that the popular gimmick of invisibility would eventually wind up in a cliffhanger as a central theme (invisibility had already been explored briefly in other serials such as Flash Gordon) in the 1950s The Invisible Monster produced by Republic and directed by Fred C. Brannon with a script by Ronald Davidson.

This character (portrayed by the always slightly creepy Stanley Price), never referenced in the script as The Invisible Monster, is actually referred to as The Phantom Ruler (or P.R. for short as when his lackeys call him over the car radio—“Calling P.R.”). He’s a bad guy customer, who has perfected a beam (which when trained on a chemically treated costume makes him look something like a Muslim woman) of his own design that renders him invisible. Problem is the beam in question must be aimed at him via a kind of spotlight (and in fact, the thing is indeed nothing more than a modified studio light) controlled by one of his thuggish accomplices. This rather limits The Phantom Ruler’s movements. One would think his anonymity was in jeopardy, after all being followed around all the time by a guy in a truck with a huge spotlight is kind of a giveaway, but I guess this was a work in progress.

In any case, The Phantom Ruler’s intent is to finance the creation of an army of invisible soldiers. To accumulate funds he must commit a lot of local crimes, burglaries, robberies and such, and is aided not only by his henchmen, Lane Bradford and John Crawford, but by four illegal European immigrants (sans any discernable accents) whose professional skills he requires for his heists and who he is blackmailing into aiding his cause. Richard Webb, whose signature role was just around the corner when he took the lead in the early TV series Captain Midnight (’54), appears here as ace insurance investigator Lane Carson out to solve the series of crimes created by The Phantom Ruler and his minions. For most of the serial, however, he hasn’t a clue regarding the invisibility factor, thinking these are just routine thefts. Webb’s a bit on the stiff and disinterested side—even for a one-dimensional serial hero—and doesn’t seem to have a great deal of enthusiasm for the role as he seemed to when he later played Midnight, but he’s physically acceptable. Backing him up, and I mean this literally as far as lots of the action goes, is pistol-packing Aline Towne as Carol Richards, his assistant even though they get off to a rocky start when he questions her involvement (“Isn’t that a rather unusual job for a woman?”).

While during the various slugfests, she usually ends up being knocked out, she is more than ready, willing and able to join in when lead is being traded and is often seen backing up Webb with her revolver. Towne was a likable, pretty and capable actress who appeared in numerous Republic serials in the dying days of the cliffhanger. Other members of the cast include stuntmen extraordinaire Dale Van Sickel, Tom Steele and Dave Sharpe as well as John Crawford, George Meeker, Marshall Reed, Ed Parker, Bud Wolfe and (uncredited) John Hamilton, TV’s Perry White, as one of the blackmailed immigrants.

The Invisible Monster, like so many serials produced during the waning days of the serial, is no more formulaic than any other late cliffhanger—relying on lots of stock footage from earlier chapter-plays, some of it not matching terribly well—yet there is something tired and particularly arthritic about it. Everyone seems to just be going through the motions knowing the fate of this sort of entertainment was a foregone conclusion.

Fred C. Brannon could be a competent if pedestrian helmsmen, but this time around there’s little energy or pizzazz coming through. Everything is as predictable as an I Love Lucy repeat. It’s serviceable at best and downright boring most of the other time. A real Invisible Monster might have spruced up things a bit, but I’m afraid only a bit.

October 2008

CliffHanger Commentary:

‘Zorro’s Black Whip’

By Bruce Dettman

You have to wonder what Johnston McCulley thought—if he thought anything at all—about Republics’ third Zorro cliffhanger outing, ‘44’s Zorro’s Black Whip. Since McCulley was, at best, an entertaining pulp writer, albeit a prolific one, the creator of Old California’s masked Robin Hood was probably overjoyed to see new royalties roll in, yet it still must have been odd for him to note what strange things were happening to his original creation. Of course, in reality, nothing was happening to his creation because, title and credit acknowledgements aside, Zorro is not present in this serial. He is not mentioned a single time. Instead, the hero is a masked character called The Whip, killed in the line of duty in the first chapter, mourned by his spunky sister Barbara who decides to carry on the family tradition (luckily not only does the same suit fit them both but, for reasons never fully explained, she is devilishly proficient with a gun, whip and horse) and wages war against those forces out to deny 1889 Idaho statehood.

Now this serial was made long before women became commonplace as gun-toting, karate chopping heroines in the cinema. You had a few exceptions like Wonder Woman, Mary Marvel and Sheena in the comics but, for the most part, strapping on a six-shooter and tangling directly with males was new terrain for the so-called fair sex. Little boys of the period probably were not overly crazy about this role reversal though I’ll wager those fathers who escorted their offspring to Saturday matinees probably didn’t mind all that much. In any case, Republic was lucky in this casting of the unique role to have serial star Linda Stirling under contract because, in all honesty, a lot of actresses probably couldn’t have carried it off (although I wouldn’t have minded seeing Adrian Booth give it a try).

Linda, beautiful, tall and athletic—and helped by a lot of excellent stunt work—played it straight and heroically and pulled it off fairly well. Of course, suspension of belief is a big part in viewing any cliffhanger, but I must say credulity is stretched even further than usual when the cast of villains (guys like John Merton and Hal Taliaferro) are totally oblivious to the fact The Whip emerges after Chapter One with a noticeably more provocative wiggle and form, even after, in some instances, they physically tussle with her. All this aside, Black Whip, energetically directed by the team of Spencer Gordon Bennet and Wallace Grissell, can be quite entertaining, and not just because of Linda wielding that black whip or the myopia on the part of the bad guys. 

There’s a lot of good action sequences and chapter endings (thanks in no small measure to Yakima Canutt’s second unit work), even if some of the footage is redundant, culled from earlier Zorro outings, and too often features the western cliffhanger staple of our heroes unconscious in wagons plunging over cliffs. George J. Lewis, usually seen in villainous roles in serials (and later in life as Guy William’s father in Disney TV’s Zorro), provides the muscle when Linda needs it (and who gets slugged over the head in nearly every episode). The cast also includes such stalwarts as a pre-Superman John Hamilton, Tom London, Duke Green, Francis McDonald, and stuntmen/actors Tom Steele and Dale Van Sickel.

It’s not a great serial, by any means, but it’s and entertaining one and, at times, a good deal of fun, the most important ingredient of any cliffhanger.

September 2008

Secret Service in Darkest Africa

By Bruce Dettman

I don’t think I’m giving away state secrets when I admit I don’t watch serials for their depth of plot and/or characterization or their political correctness, in fact, quite the contrary. I watch serials so the kid still lurking around in this 58-year-old body has a therapeutic release from the escalating depressiveness, insane pace and moral dankness of modern life. Personally, I take great satisfaction in the fact that although I love history, literature, classical music and politics, I can still get wrapped up in a Wild Bill Elliot western, and old Superman TV episode, A Daffy Duck cartoon or yes, a ‘Republic’ cliffhanger. As far as I’m concerned, this keeps me (relatively) sane—and I bet I’m not alone in this. Which brings me to Secret Service in Darkest Africa…

When I was a kid in the 50s, World War II was just around the corner, still fresh on people’s minds—that is when they weren’t thinking of ‘Wonder Bread,’ ‘Commies,’ ‘Lucille Ball’ and buying affordable tract homes—and it was pretty hard to escape reminders of it, not only in the classroom, but in movies on TV and in stories told by relatives and friends who survived, or relations of those who didn’t. On top of this there were neighborhood garages where, hanging next to hack saws and garden gloves, were canteens from agonizing days on Tarawa and field packs from dusty marches in Sicily. In my own home, my uncle had given my older brother the shell of a hand grenade (great paperweight) and a bayonet he ‘removed’ from a Japanese soldier in New Guinea. World War II was just like the ‘Wild West’ for me, an arena of obvious good guys (us) and even more obvious bad guys (them).

Behind our house, in a wonderful rock quarry, I did my 10 year-old best with my plastic Mattel helmet, a replica of an M-1 and a gas mask from a Army surplus store to keep alive the memory of ‘Guadalcanal’ and ‘Wake Island.’ Movies helped too, and not only the splashy, big budgeted stuff like ‘Sands of Iwo Jima’ or ‘Guadalcanal Diary’ either. Hollywood serials wasted little time in getting into the action as well, with Spy Smasher to Secret Code and King of the Texas Rangers chapter plays turning to the war effort for inspiration. Secret Service in Darkest Africa starring Rod Cameron as Rex Bennett (the second of two times he would play the character) is my favorite World War II cliffhanger. Cameron was tall and as square-jawed as a Chester Gould drawing, had the acting range of an umbrella stand, but was solid and no-nonsense and you believed his earnestness. He had knocked around Hollywood for years as a stuntman and later graduated to action parts, particularly westerns. Eventually he appeared in several TV cop shows that (hopefully) made him rich. I also read that later in life he divorced his wife and married her mother which, I think speaks volumes about his real life courage.

There’s not a great deal of plot to ‘Secret Service’ which, for the record, has to do with Bennett, and American secret agent, trying to curtail Nazi attempts to win over Arab support of their war effort. But boy is there action, much of it a good deal uglier and grittier than your usual standard serial fare (villains die almost every episode) since we were in a real shooting war at the time and a lot of regular cinema rules went out the window. As far as the fist fights, I don’t recall ever seeing  quite so much furniture broken up in any other cliffhanger (the plywood bill on this one must been staggering) and director Spencer Gordon Bennet, along with his stunt crew, really devise some lengthy and wonderfully choreographed brawls (often employing first person viewpoints reminiscent of later 3D setups). The action only pauses on occasion for a bit of dialog and then we’re right back into the thick of it. The cliffhangers are wonderfully choreographed and initiated (thanks again to the Lydeckers and some great exploding model work). I particularly enjoyed the booby-trapped gravesites in Chapter Four. For some reason, there’s an awful lot of horsemanship involved as Rex gallops through the supposed African countryside (which looks about as much like Africa as Harlem does Salt Lake City) in pursuit of the Nazis and their Arab co-conspirators. Rex often ignores his pistol in favor of a sword, not always the smartest move, but it paves the way for some athletic dueling scenes.

Backings up Cameron in the cast are Joan Marsh, whose one spunky gal, as fast with a glib line directed at her captors as a shot from the revolver which she uses to full and lethal advantage. Duncan Renaldo is Rex’s staunch and always reliable French comrade and the heavies are an impressive bunch which include Kurt Kreuger—who made a career out of playing blonde Aryans during the period—Frederic Brunn, Sigurd Tor and, in a dual role, Lionel Royce as the kidnapped Sultan (no one ever spent more time shackled to a wall) and his Nazi impersonator. Mort Glickman’s score isn’t quite as memorable here, no standout theme you can come away humming, but you certainly can’t fault Bennet for keeping things moving. The thrills pile up as quickly as the bodies.

August 2008

G-Men Vs.

The Black Dragon

By Bruce Dettman

One of my great disappointments as a kid watching cliffhangers was that Republic never made a sequel to ‘Mysterious Dr. Satan’ featuring my favorite hero, the Copperhead. Instead, much to my parent’s distress, I had to settle for creating a backyard version where I rigged my own bargain-basement—but occasionally dangerous—chapter endings (“Bruce, get away from your father’s power tools and why are you wearing your rain hood in the summer?”).

In point of fact, most serial characters did not have encores although there were certainly exceptions (Zorro, the Lone Ranger, Dick Tracy, Jesse James and Superman being a few of those who immediately come to mind). I suspect, as in the cases of Captain Marvel, the Phantom and Fu Manchu, copyright and legal issues often had something to do with this, but just try and explain this to a 10 year-old kid hot to see his idol up on the screen again. One character that did return to fight again was Rex Bennett who was featured in two Republic outings, ‘Secret Service in Darkest Africa’ and in his debut offering ‘G-Men Vs. The Black Dragon’ (both ’43).

Bennett, described as being an American Special Investigator, was played in both by Rod Cameron. The only difference between the two performances is that, in the first, Rex sports a suit and in the second a military uniform, Although occasionally assuming villainous roles in his long career in action and outdoor films—most of them westerns—Cameron, a man of few words, was born to play heroes what with his granite-like jaw-line, handsome features, dark curly hair and impressive height. Moreover, there was something unflinching and resolute about Cameron’s tight-lipped heroes. When he said something you could usually take it to the bank. He was not a guy to mess with or take lightly, a quality which served him well in his two serials.

The plot for ‘G-Men,’ set in World War II, is fairly predictable and straightforward with Rex, his Chinese secret agent pal Chang (Roland Got) and British agent Vivian Marsh (Constance Worth) trying to disrupt the activities of Japan’s Black Dragon Society led by Haruchi (Nino Pipitone) who has been smuggled into America (in a mummy case, no less) to inflict havoc for the Axis cause. Director William Witney, sans his old pal John English, went it alone this time and turned in a rugged, action-packed, nicely paced and often ingenious cliffhanger heavy on patriotic resolve and no-nonsense retribution against America’s enemies. Along with the exciting chapter endings and breakneck pacing, there’s a good cast as well. I very much enjoyed Constance Worth (in her only serial appearance) as British agent Vivian Marsh. She brought something rarely evidenced in serial heroines, maturity, polish and even a kind of edgy sexuality. She played in the role like a grownup, no wide-eyed “Gee whiz stuff” and even handled herself pretty well cuddling a machine gun.

Nino Pipitone as Haruchi is properly sinister, just over the top enough with his maniacal villainy and stereotypical Japanese mannerisms for serial fans of that era to really hate. Roland Got as Rex’s buddy Chang is acceptable though I would have preferred Keye Luke in the role. Others in the cast include Noel Cravat and George J. Lewis as the henchmen, Donald Kirke, Maxine Doyle (real life wife of director Witney), Ivan Miller and the redoubtable C. Montaue Shaw. Although I harbor a slight preference for the second Rex Bennett serial (I think it’s all those nifty sword fights), this is still a remarkably feisty, high energy effort with lots to recommend it. The cliffhangers are well handled, the stunts ingeniously choreographed, Mort Glickman’s music properly stirring for a war serial. My only complaint—a mild one at that—for some reason it was more obvious than normal Tom Steele was standing in for Cameron in the fight scenes. I wouldn’t have minded a third Rex Bennett outing but it was not to be. World War II ended and so did old Rex. Glad to have him on our side when we did though.

July 2008

The Mysterious Doctor Satan

By Bruce Dettman 

Whenever someone mentions the fact that serial helmsman extraordinaire William Witney apparently considered the 1940 Republic serial ‘The Mysterious Dr. Satan’ to be a ‘stinker’ and one of his lesser directorial efforts, I remind myself George Orwell wrote ‘1984’ in a hurry, solely for the purpose of making a quick buck and apparently also didn’t think much of the finished product. Undoubtedly, lots of folks would take a dim view of my comparing a classic novel with a low budget serial, but in this case I am not referring to the end result as much as the creator’s intimate relation to it.  Whatever Witney’s reasons for taking such a dim and critical view of ‘Satan,’ there are a lot of serial aficionados, myself included, who view ‘Mysterious Dr. Satan’ as one of Republic’s finest chapter plays. As a matter of fact, it still remains my favorite serial of all time, a preference I’ll readily concede has much to do with my initial adolescent introduction to it, and introduction marinated in intense juvenile romanticism. Yet a recent viewing has only further cemented my deep affection and admiration for its many sterling qualities. 

As is now common knowledge, ‘The Mysterious Dr. Satan’ was initially intended to feature Superman, then a neophyte to the big screen. Thus far the Man of Steel’s only film appearance had been as an animated character in a series of stellar Max Fleischer cartoons produced by Paramount. Republic, noting the growing popularity of the character, wanted in fast. Somehow, negotiations broke down – money problems apparently being the key factor – and the deal soured. There are lots of stories regarding this history. One often cited that the original character of Dr. Satan, later emerging as a pin-striped, continental criminal mastermind, was originally conceived with actual costumed devil horns and was to be played by Henry Brandon who did such a good job as Fu Manchu for the studio. This was not to be however, and while suggestions of Superman saga can certainly be spotted (a girl reporter named Lois, as an example) writers Franklyn Adreon, Ronald Davidson, Norman Hill, Joseph Poland and Sol Shor set out to create a new storyline and set of characters. What they came up with was a new version of Dr. Satan, sans Superman, a malevolent sophisticate with old-world charm and a desire to take over the globe with an army of robots. 

For 15 action-filled chapters two things stand in his way, perfecting a long-distance device capable of controlling his metallic army (of one), and a masked hero called ‘The Copperhead.’ One wonders if originally the serial’s creators thought of making ‘The Copperhead’ some sort of super hero like Krypton’s favorite son, but in the end opted against it (why, as an example, does he decide to scale the outside of a downtown high-rise rather than using the elevator or even stairs—had the original utilized a flying hero at this point?) No, ‘The Copperhead is all flesh and blood, a tough character, but human all the way. He is, in fact, Bob Wayne, a young man who learns in the first chapter from his soon to be murdered guardian, the governor of the state, that his real father was a controversial figure from the old west, a misunderstood night rider known as ‘The Copperhead’ who righted wrongs wearing a distinct mask to conceal his identity. No sooner has he digested this rather startling news than Dr. Satan’s minions kill the governor. Bob, wishing to both redeem his real father’s reputation and revenge the murder, sets out to find and punish the crazed scientist, adopting the identity of ‘The Copperhead’ when necessary.  

Interestingly enough, the censors originally had a bit of a problem with revenge being the only motivating factor in Bob’s pursuit of Satan which is why in the revised script he is deputized by the authorities to take part in the official government manhunt. Casting has for a long time now been the big bugaboo when fans of serials have debated the merits of this cliffhanger. For many years the critics, who otherwise heaped heavy praise on much of it, were nearly unanimous in disliking Robert Wilcox as Bob Wayne. They invariably used the words “dull” and “bland” to describe him although bestowing great praise on the athletic achievements of his alter ego ‘The Copperhead (stuntman Dave Sharpe was never more impressive than in this serial with his astounding leaps, a favorite being when he hurls himself through a window into a subterranean basement, only his curly hair, as opposed to Wilcox’s straight locks, giving him away at times). However, things have shifted in the last couple of years with Wilcox’s less theatrical, more realistically grim and sober style becoming more popular with fans. Moreover, the first scene where he learns of the identity of his biological father in, thanks to the actor’s sincere line delivery and earnest reaction, genuinely was moving, something rare in a serial.  

Equally impressive, if not more so, is Eduardo Ciannelli in the title role. Like Bob Wayne, Dr. Satan practices a subdued and contained style of communication and expression. With his continental accent—some of his lines delivered almost in the hissing style of a serpent—and charming manners he is the epitome of the cultured but deadly villain. Others in the cast include Ella Neal as Lois (a dead ringer for Lois Lane in her early comic book incarnations); the always solid C. Montaqgue Shaw as scientist Scott; William Newell as Speed Martin, Bob’s photographer buddy’ Charles Trowbridge as the slain governor; plus the likable Jack Mulhall and Dorothy Herbert, the latter a champion horsewoman of the period (who, as Lois’ pal Alice, does some remarkable things astride her steed in the early chapters, then practically and inexplicably disappears from the action). Ciannelli’s men include tope henchman Walter McGrail as Stoner, who gleefully follows his boss’s orders, Bud Geary, Ken Terrell and Al Taylor. Rumor has it stuntman Tom Steele was the robot. A key ingredient that makes ‘The Mysterious Dr. Satan’ so effective and memorable cannot, however, be found in a masked hero, a killer robot or even a wonderfully mad scientist, but rather in the overall mood and evocative style and design of the serial. Regardless of what directors William Witney or even John English might have come away thinking of this cliffhanger, it remains one of the most atmospherically charged of chapter plays. In music (Mort Glickman producing one of the most memorable serial scores), lighting, camera work and low-key performances it delivers an atmosphere wonderfully charged with the threat of danger and intrigue. I can think of no other serial that is quite so nourish in style and execution. Yet for all of this it is also a rambunctious, kinetic and spry adventure filled with great moments of athleticism, terrific cliffhangers and daring do.  

For me it is everything I love about serials rolled into one glorious 15 chapter ensemble; a terrific villain, a mysterious hero, damsels to save, non-stop action, great stunts, cliffhangers and an outrageous plot. Oh yeah, a classic if a bit feeble robot too. What more could a serial fan ask for except perhaps a good popcorn fix?  

From 1997 through 2008 when it ceased publication, SERIAL REPORT MAGAZINE, edited by Boyd Magers, regularly published a quarterly column by Bruce Dettman in which he reviewed motion pictures serials. 

Glass House Presents thanks Boyd for permitting us to reprint these writings on the great motion picture cliffhangers that entertained audiences for nearly forty years. 

Boyd is one of the recognized experts on the motion picture western. Please visit his website at www.westernclippings.com/

July 2008

In Retrospect

TAC: Dettman's Documents

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