On Blu-ray: Three Roberts, Young, Mitchum, and Ryan in Crossfire (1947)

 

From the first shot, Crossfire (1947) seems to be throwing you into a genre flick. It opens with a fist fight, in shadow, mostly off camera. You can’t see faces. It feels like a film noir or a crime movie. 

As the action unfolds though, the social issue roots of the story reveal themselves. It’s still gritty and built for thrills, but there’s more substance than is obvious at first. Now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, this fascinating film is bolstered by a charismatic cast and a well-written script by John Paxton which was nominated for an Academy Award. 

Whatever else Crossfire has going for it, and it’s got a lot, it’s especially remarkable for gathering three different and unique Roberts: Taylor, Mitchum, and Ryan. The trio settles into familiar roles, which makes the plot twists easy to project, but mystery isn’t the true draw here. Mitchum gets the best lines and he’s often funny in his dry way, Ryan has the showstopper part, and Taylor brings great depth to his role as a detective trying to unravel a murder. 

In a movie full of big personalities, it’s noteworthy that the lesser-known George Cooper makes such an impression. As a GI accused of murder, he’s sympathetic and appealing in that interesting way film actors can have of being relatable, but also more fascinating than normal folks. The son of silent film actor George Cooper Sr., his filmography shows a handful of westerns and crime movies in the forties, a few more television roles in the fifties, and only one more role in 1975. It seems that Cooper’s real love was painting and his connections in Hollywood gave him work that was a means to an end and enabled his return to society after serving in the Navy during World War II. He later achieved his dream of becoming an artist. 

Cooper has a couple of great scenes with his leading ladies. One is with Gloria Grahame, who is memorable in her small role as a downtrodden, but alluring bar girl who holds the key to the GI’s freedom. Another is a tender and somewhat offbeat moment in a movie theatre balcony with Jacqueline White, who plays his understanding wife. In these scenes Cooper effectively communicates the trauma and disorientation a soldier can feel, something he might have experienced himself as a veteran. 

In a film that centers on the impact different perspectives can have, it’s interesting how director Edward Dmytryk plays with point-of-view. From that first scene, he’s deliberate in the way he reveals the action and how he introduces characters. You can be quietly engrossed in a scene and suddenly have a new perspective based on the way his actors slip into the frame. 

When the social issue that’s the real focus of the film reveals itself, it unfortunately the dialogue-heavy exposition slows the action for a bit, though eventually things right themselves and the film hits its stride again. Ultimately Crossfire manages to both hold onto its genre intrigue and effectively share its message, winning Oscar nominations in addition to the screenplay for Dmytryk, Grahame, and Ryan.

Special features on the disc include commentary by film historians Alain Silver and James Ursini, and with audio interview excerpts from director Edward Dmytryk, and the informative featurette Crossfire: Hate is Like a Gun. 

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On Blu-ray: Robert Mitchum in a Film-Noir on the Range Blood on the Moon (1948)

The moody, fatalistic feel of Blood on the Moon (1948) is unusual for a western, if not unheard of in the genre. Its noirish story of double-crosses and turf battles could be transported to rain-slicked city streets with little change, the plot points as well-suited to urban organized crime as cattle wranglers on the prairie. The film recently made its debut on Blu-ray from Warner Archive in a print that shows the beautiful shadows of cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca (Out of the Past [1947]) to great advantage.

Robert Mitchum stars as Jim Garry, an aimless cowboy who is essentially a mercenary, but who likes to think he has some moral core. He takes a job serving as a cattle buyer for his old friend Tate Riling (Robert Preston), believing that he is on the right side of a cattle dispute. When he finds that he has been manipulated by the deceptive Tate, he tries to come clean with wronged rancher John Lufton (Tom Tully).

Jim is pushed to the right side by Lufton’s daughter Amy (Barbara Bel Geddes). They meet cute when Amy assumes he is trespassing and takes a shot at him. He retaliates by shooting the heel off her boot. That’s as heated as it ever gets between the two though. Despite what we are told about their emerging romance, they always have a strong brother and sister vibe.

Mitchum has more chemistry with his male co-stars. He is carefully observant of Tate’s flashy manner and slick salesmanship (Preston doing a fine rehearsal for Music Man). Though Jim isn’t on to him right away, he listens closely to his friend, so that he understands how he could be the villain when the truth finally hits him. Their conversations have more weight because of his attention; you don’t feel like the words are floating away into meaninglessness.

One of the film’s highlights is a bar fight between Tate and Jim. Filmed with deep noir shadows, it has more emotional weight than your typical cowboy dust-up. Instead of the misguided heroics of most fist-to-fist cinematic match-ups, it makes clear how exhausting and unpleasant it is to try to beat the tar out of each other. Apparently this perspective was the deliberate choice of director Robert Wise, who appears set on challenging some of the simplistic tropes of the western.

Mitchum is also powerful in his scenes with Walter Brennan as a grieving homesteader. With his quirky old prospector voice, Brennan is often cast for comic relief, but here Wise give him space to display more emotional depth. When Jim comes to him with bad news, the director focuses on Brennan's face, illuminating the feelings of pain and loss he communicates with great subtlety.

While the director, cinematographer, and cast have much to do with Blood on the Moon being an above-average western, it is Mitchum who truly makes it special. While seeming to do very little, he dominates every scene: quiet, observant, and somehow more present than his fellow players. A true movie star who rejected the fuss that came with it.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On Blu-ray: The Vibrant Casts of Home From the Hill (1960) and Never So Few (1959)

Sometimes, no matter what other elements are at play, the pure starpower of the actors onscreen dominate a film. The biggest draw of Never So Few (1959) and Home From the Hill (1960) is the unusual composition of their casts. Both have a fascinating, somewhat off-kilter mix of old and new Hollywood. They are also each dominated by by men, Frank Sinatra and Robert Mitchum respectively, who are driven by their own passions, with little regard for the rules. I recently watched both on new Blu-ray releases from Warner Archive.

Never So Few could be half as good and still intrigue, because the cast is an astonishing mix of talent. Frank Sinatra plays a World War II army captain fighting the Japanese in Burma. Among his men: Charles Bronson, Richard Johnson, Dean Jones, and Steve McQueen. Add to this crazy mix of talent love interest Gina Lollobrigida (in her first Hollywood film), Paul Henreid, Peter Lawford and, briefly, Brian Donlevy. Though less famous to US audiences, Philip Ahn is also quietly commanding as the local Kachin people’s leader and Sinatra’s strongest ally. It took me a while to get into the action, because it seemed like everywhere you looked, another great actor popped up.

The action alternates between Japanese ambushes and plush party and nightclub scenes, never going too deep into either, with the tense battle scenes having the most excitement. Lollobrigida and Sinatra have a romance, but it doesn’t sizzle, and is even a bit indifferent. While he brings a great weary spirit of rebellion to the role, it was hard for me to accept the slender, almost frail crooner as a tough army captain. Interactions between the men are more lively, with Bronson settling more firmly into his tough guy persona and Jones seeming to relish a quirkier, darker role than he would have in the Disney flicks that brought him fame. Henreid and Donlevy add old Hollywood dignity in a great contrast to all that youthful energy.

The hottest element of Never So Few is McQueen, who is clearly ready for stardom. He gets the chance to show off his action chops and foreshadow all those great motorcycle and car chases with a little racy driving in his Army Jeep. Apparently Sinatra was impressed by the young actor and asked director John Sturges to give him good angles and exposure.

Home From the Hill is a more melodramatic production, though it has plenty of battle scenes of a different nature and even some shocking moments of violence. Robert Mitchum stars as a randy small town Texan who must be crazy because he constantly cheats on lovely Eleanor Parker, who plays his wife. While dodging the bullets and barbs of angry husbands, he despairs over his hapless son (George Hamilton) and grudgingly accepts the stronger bond he has with another, illegitimate son (George Peppard).

This is one of those small town dramas where polite society exists on a tightrope and everyone is on the verge of exploding from repressed anger or passion, and sometimes both. At 150 minutes, it takes longer than it needs to to make its point, but it keeps a good pace. While the subject matter is sensational, it never drifts into camp as this kind of story can. Amidst all the sex, violence, adultery and illegitimate pregnancy, there’s a tragic story and the gravity of that tale is given its due respect.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

DVD Review: Katharine Hepburn in Sylvia Scarlett (1935) and Undercurrent (1946)

A new wave of Katharine Hepburn flicks recently released on DVD from Warner Archive drew me to a pair of titles that, while not among her most celebrated, were of interest to me because of their unusual quirks. Sylvia Scarlett (1935) and Undercurrent (1946) vary in critical, box office and artistic success, but it is worth shining a light on both of these underseen films.

Sylvia Scarlett was a critical and box office bomb upon its release and time has not revealed that response to be unjust. It is a Hepburn picture by billing, but it is perhaps most notable for being the film where Cary Grant's persona truly began to take shape. Kate plays the daughter of an embezzler and thief (Edmund Gwenn) who must masquerade as the teenage Sylvester in order to escape the authorities with her father. They meet grifter Jimmy Monkley (Cary Grant) in their travels and team up with him to attempt to make a living without stooping to work.

Hepburn is handsome, but profoundly irritating as a boy and the action zig zags in an erratic way, sort of moving forward, sort of getting nowhere, but it is all so bizarre that you can't look away. Fluffy-haired Brian Aherne is appealing as Michael Fane a cheerful artist who is drawn to Sylvia, but doesn't quite understand what he sees in this handsome young boy. His confusion and the female advances "Sylvester" must manage are among the most interesting elements of the film.

While homosexuality was seen as repellant, even deviant at the time, the characters here don't seem overly concerned when they touch upon it. It makes you wonder if there were a few closeted souls in the audience who took this as a positive bit of representation. Sylvia is repulsed,but not too scandalized by the prospect of gay eroticism, but the lady who attempts the seduction seems mostly amused by her mistake. Michael is not only less tortured, but a bit intrigued.

Romantic maneuverings aside, it is Cary Grant's transformation from handsome mannequin to sexy devil that distinguishes the film. While his lame Cockney accent hits the ears with a splat, his charm makes up for much of that awkwardness. This is the true screen debut of the debonair, mischievous and dangerously flirtatious Grant that would become a legend even outside of his own understanding.

In the more critically and financially successful romantic noir Undercurrent, Hepburn is Ann Hamilton, a wealthy socialite approaching middle age, who unexpectedly veers into marriage with handsome businessman Alan Garroway. Perplexed by his reluctance to discuss his brother Michael (Robert Mitchum), who seems to have disappeared due to some kind of disgrace, she tries to learn more about this scorned sibling. In the process she finds herself drawn to this figure of mystery, at least partly because he is so elusive, but also because he seems to perfectly fit her sensibilities.

I love the idea of falling in love with someone you've never seen and director Vincent Minnelli creates a dreamy feeling of romance even though the prospective lovers are not acquainted for much of the film. That mood is so intense that when Alan becomes jealous of his wife's obsession, the change in tone feels like a brutal intrusion.

Undercurrent is ultimately an odd film, because the leads are brilliantly cast, but they don't quite fit together. Mitchum perfectly fits the image of Michael that Ann has created, but Hepburn is not a good fit for him. They are discordant in temperament onscreen and apparently were in real life as well, where she seemed to think he was a no-talent skating by on his looks. It's an odd situation where she is not well cast opposite her love interest, but she also fits her role quite well. It is the same for Taylor, who is dangerously seductive, but not believable as a man obsessed with Hepburn. In a way, that lack of cohesion adds intrigue to the film, because it creates an imbalance that keeps you slightly on edge.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copies of the films for review. These are Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVDs. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On Blu-ray: Late Career Robert Mitchum in The Yakuza (1974)

Robert Mitchum is extremely moving in The Yakuza (1974), a modern noir directed by Sydney Pollack, and one of the star's late career triumphs. This elegantly melancholy film is now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive.

Mitchum is Harry Kilmer, a former private eye who is summoned to Tokyo by former Marine MP buddy George Tanner (Brian Keith), who he knew during the post-war occupation. He asks his friend to help him deal with the machinations of Yakuza members looking for leverage in a gun deal. Settling in with another Marine pal, Oliver Wheat (Herb Edelman), he enlists the help of former Yakuza Ken (Ken Takakura), whom he finds by visiting former lover Eiko (Keiko Kishi), whom he has been told is the man's sister.

Ken resents Kilmer for his relationship with Eiko in the post-war years, but the PI helped to save her and her daughter's life, so he feels a sense of giri, a term meaning he has an unpayable debt to Harry. Things get bloody and complex, and secrets from the past come up to surprise and hurt Kilmer. He gets in over his head quickly, but following Ken's lead, he learns to face his fears with honor and respect for the traditions of the country in which he is a guest.

I'm fascinated by Mitchum's late career work, which has a wonderful gravity and sincerity. Here, as in films like The Big Sleep (1978) and The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973), he is somber and focused. You feel the weight of age on him, but not that he is a fading star. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he never descended into camp or roles that didn't suit his abilities as he aged. Instead, he abandons some of the laconic cool of his younger years to create more realistic and fully realized performances. Both sides of Mitchum are marvelous, even complementary.

In The Yakuza, he is all these things, making you feel his Harry Kilmer right to the core of the man. While it helps to have his background story, as told by Wheat while Kilmer essentially walks to the next chapter of the tale, you almost don't need the information. Mitchum achingly communicates the love and passion of his past and the regrets that have stayed with him over the years.

As Harry barges through paper screens and blows away Yakuza thugs with his gun, you can almost feel the man's shame about his bombastic American ways. In contrast, Ken slides through murderous scenes with his razor-sharp blade, giving the mayhem an almost ceremonial feel. 

You get this sense of ceremony and tradition in the film as well. It has a steady, solemn tone that so infuses the proceedings that even the few explosives scenes of violence have an odd feeling of control.

The Yakuza is an interesting title, because this is really a three-hander between Eiko, Ken and Harry. They are not fazed by the violence around them, because it isn't shocking to them; it matches their inner turmoil. Being reunited, they realize they have not resolved their past issues and that they cannot abandon the old ways of thinking in facing them. Harry understands this most of all.

This is such an unusual film. Though it is made up of familiar elements, the pieces are put together with more sensitivity for the characters than the workings of the plot. I think that's what makes it special.

A decent print shows off the muted tones of the cinematography, capturing the details of Yakuza tattoos and hues of the odd splashes of color in a mostly somber setting. The disc includes a fascinating featurette about the film made at the time of its production, a trailer and commentary by director Pollack.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: Young Robert Mitchum in Till The End of Time (1946)

I was drawn to the new Warner Archive release Till the End of Time (1946) almost entirely because it features Robert Mitchum in an early supporting role, a year after his breakout in Story of G.I. Joe (1945). Other than that, I was happy to see Dorothy McGuire in the cast list, but not so excited by the prospect of watching veterans struggling to adjust to life after World War II. It all seemed so depressing. Fortunately I had Mitchum to draw me in, because while this is in many ways a sad film, it is also inspiring and deeply touching.

Star Guy Madison made his screen debut in Since You Went Away (1944), another film that explores war from the home front, but spent the bulk of his career in westerns. Here he is Cliff Harper, one of three veterans who continue their friendship as they adjust to life at home again. Bill Williams is a former boxer who has lost his legs in combat, while Robert Mitchum plays a cowboy with a steel plate in his head. Though not officially a part of this trio, as traumatized war widow Pat Ruscomb, Dorothy McGuire is as lost as these men who have lived to come home.

While Cliff gets plenty of attention from the perky 18-year-old girl next door, he is drawn to Pat's gravity. He is still childish in many ways, but war has also matured him, and the melancholy widow gives him the understanding he needs as he readjusts to civilian life. Eventually, he is able to understand her aimlessness as well.

The film has its share of heat: arguments, frustration and even a wild bar fight, but for the most part it unfolds quietly. It treats its subjects gently, just as the townspeople do their newly-returned soldiers. There's a tenderness to its characters, even when, as with Harper's parents, they are baffled by the veterans' behavior.

While the movie doesn't look for solutions to the problems of returning soldiers, it offers hope. The wounds these men, and those at home, suffer will not completely heal, but time will help. The boxer won't wear his new prosthetic legs because they hurt him, but he throws them on and charges out of the house when he thinks a friend needs him. Mitchum's character lives recklessly, and in pain, but his buddies watch out for him, and you know they're not going to let him destroy himself.

Cliff's problems are more subtle. He struggles to stay employed, and to accept Pat's way of mourning, because the years where he should have been building an understanding of these things were spent at war. He's never in any real peril, his family will always support him, but his struggle is significant, because it shows how no matter the state of the soldier's bodies when they returned home, they all had psychic wounds.

All of the performances are strong. McGuire is especially touching in her role, and Mitchum steals all of his scenes, clearly showing the birth of a star. He seems to have started his film career fully-formed; there's little sign of a novice here.

I hope that this film will get more attention now that it is available on DVD, because it is certainly deserving of classic status and a good, low-key companion to that more legendary return from war drama The Best Years of Our Lives (1946).

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: The Thrilling Arrival of The Lusty Men (1952) on DVD

I had a belly full of stitches the first time I saw The Lusty Men. It was at a screening of a beautiful 35mm print at SIFF 2014. I was so determined to see it that I gave myself a week to recover from minor surgery. You could say I related, in a small way, to the beaten and bruised rodeo men up on the screen.

It was more than worthy of the effort, which is why I was thrilled to learn Warner Archive would be giving this brutal, funny and lively film a DVD release. This modern day Nicholas Ray western is the kind of discovery classic film fans yearn for.

Set in the rodeo circuit, The Lusty Men reveals this dangerous, but intoxicating world with almost documentary detail. It smoothly blends those moments of realism with gritty, often risqué drama and a battle-scarred sense of humor.

At the center of it all is Robert Mitchum, who has a lived-in comfort with his role as legendary rodeo rider Jeff McCloud. Recovering from a bad run-in with a bull, the limping cowboy retires from the circuit. He visits his childhood home, a humble shack on an old ranch. There he crosses pathes with Wes Merritt (Arthur Kennedy), aspiring rodeo star and his loyal wife Louise (Susan Hayward).

Merritt convinces McCloud to teach him his trade so that he and the wife can save up for their own ranch. He reluctantly accepts, drawn in by the promise of shared winnings, and maybe just as much because he still has sawdust in his veins. Before long the two have hit the circuit, with a highly reluctant Louise in tow.

Mitchum has trained his prodigy well, and Wes is immediately a star. He becomes intoxicated by his success, taking increasing risks and seeming to forget why he has stepped into this crazy world in the first place. When a rodeo floozy attempts to brand him with a bite, it is Louise who has to kick her in the can and shove her away. He takes the attention, and his success for granted as soon as he wins his first wad of prize money.

Louise fights for her husband, while McCloud smoothly tries to convince her to try the domestic life with him. This against a backdrop of rowdy, traumatized rodeo stars past and present and the wives who watch anxiously from the sidelines.

Ray's drama throbs with adrenaline, though he wisely cuts into the action with moments of calm. When an injured Mitchum limps across an empty stadium, the director takes his time examining the debris floating through the lonely arena, chased with perfectly billowing blankets of dust. For every wild party or raucous event, there's space given for yearning and anxious reflection--those times when the players wonder if they are in the right game.

The rodeo scenes are alarming in their brutality. It all seems less sport that survival, with men throwing themselves into danger over and over again. You feel how out of control the riders are, holding on with one hand, everything spinning around them in a blur.

As dangerous as it all seems, through McCloud's eyes you see how the money is only the initial draw. Rodeo brings out the primal in these men. By riding well, they prove themselves warriors. The feeling of invincibility intoxicates them as much as the wealth, booze and sex.

The film was even richer viewing the second time around. I'm delighted to have the opportunity to revisit it whenever I wish. I certainly intend to do so.

Disc image quality is sharp and clean. The DVD includes a trailer.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.


Check out my review of the SIFF 2014 screening of The Lusty Men here.

On Blu-ray: Out of the Past (1947) on Blu-ray and Teresa Wright in Enchantment (1948)

Watching the newly-released Blu-ray of Out of the Past (1947) took home viewing to a new level for me. It's jaw dropping beauty can be described endlessly, but is best experienced.

The picture is sharp and clear, but shimmers with just the right amount of grain to warm the images. I occasionally found myself drawn to the detail in a striped jacket, or marveling at the shades of black and gray in a shot, but never so much that it distracted me from the story. Above all, the enhanced image drew me further into the dark world of this quintessential noir.

With his weary eyes and rumpled trench coat, Robert Mitchum trudges through Out of the Past like a man who knows he is doomed, though he indulges in a few hopeful fantasies. As detective Jeff Bailey, he falls into the grimy world of mobster Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas). When he also falls for Sterling's dangerous dame Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer), and gets in over his head, he escapes to a small town and starts over again.

The movie begins at the gas station he owns, where one of Sterling's hoods spots him and tries to draw him back into his boss' web. Jeff confesses all about his past to his girlfriend (Virginia Huston) on an all night drive to Whit's estate. They part hopeful, but this is noir, so you know there isn't much room for hope.

Bailey falls back under Kathie's spell, wise to her treacherous ways, but a slave to the sweetness she wields like a caressing weapon. His response to her false apologies: "Baby I don't care." Each time he falls for a fresh betrayal, he accepts it as fate, only muttering, "Oh you're wonderful Kathie." He's wise to everything, but that's never good enough.

This already beautifully-filmed noir especially benefits from the Blu-ray treatment. Every little shade is defined, giving scenes a dreamy texture. When Kathie breezes into a Mexican café in a snowy white dress and matching wide-brimmed hat, you can feel the electricity bristling from her deceptively soft form. Every detail of her guarded expression pops.

In love scenes individual eyelashes can be detected, and light reflects sensuously off skin. When the action heats up, shadows rustle and swoop with startling intensity.

This is the same slinky script I've loved for years, where conversations weave around each other with perfectly-executed ease. Not a word is wasted, though it is not coldly efficient either. It has the same perfect cast, with Dickie Moore especially intriguing, grown-up, but still with his Our Gang pout, as a deaf mute who adds to the inscrutability of it all. And yet it all felt new to me.

I have a renewed appreciation for what presentation can do for a film.

Though Enchantment (1948) was released the year after Out of the Past, it exists in an entirely different world. The doom is just as intense, and the power of the past as brutal, but it is all infinitely more emotional. It's a deliciously melancholy romance.

David Niven stars as Sir Roland "Rollo" Dane, a wealthy Londoner who falls in love with his father's ward. Lark Ingelsby (Teresa Wright) has been raised alongside the high-spirited Dane as a sister, but as they mature, they are powerfully drawn to each other.

The story is framed with a modern sequence set during World War II, when Dane's grand niece Grizel (Evelyn Keyes) comes to stay with him while she serves as an ambulance driver for the US Army. He also receives a visit from Lark's nephew Pax (Farley Granger) who brings up painful memories for Sir Roland. While the old man revisits the past, Grizel and Pax fall in love.

Rollo and Lark's romance meets many road blocks, all due to Roland's sister Selina (Jayne Meadows), who immediately sees that Lark threatens her position as lady of the house. His brother Proutie (Leo G. Carroll) complicates things further by also falling madly in love with Lark.

It's easy to see why everyone goes crazy for the wistful orphan too. Lark floats along with an oddly gentle intensity. She aspires to be a singer like her mother, and vibrates with the powerful emotions of an artist, and yet, she speaks as though every word is perilously fragile. Always a sensitive actress, Wright was perfect for this role which required both delicacy and stubborn rebellion.

As the young Lark, Gigi Perreau is also remarkable, nearly stealing the film in a couple of brief scenes. She perfectly captures the fear, sadness and longing of a girl who has lost her parents and finds her life completely changed. In a scene where young Rollo (played by her real life brother Peter Miles) tries to cheer her up, she transitions from grief to joy in such a graceful manner that it's hard to believe how young she was. Apparently, her performance made such an impression on the set that the crew applauded her.

Having already seen Enchantment, I was surprised to see the DVD cover design. While I would love to see the movie it promises, I have to say there was no one that blonde, busty or lusty in this film. With Ms. Wright in the room, that doesn't matter a bit.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review. Enchantmet is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Quote of the Week

A lot of the time if you've got a really good cameraman you don't need a director.

-Robert Mitchum


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Quote of the Week

A casting office asked me if I'd ever thought of having my nose fixed. I said, "It's already been fixed, by about four left hooks."

 -Robert Mitchum


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Quote of the Week

Training to be an actor is like going to school to learn to be tall.

 -Robert Mitchum

  Image, Quote

Quote of the Week

Half the people in America are faking it.

-Robert Mitchum

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Quote of the Week

This is not a tough job. You read a script. If you like the part and the money is O.K., you do it. Then you remember your lines. You show up on time. You do what the director tells you to do. When you finish, you rest and then go on to the next part. That's it.

-Robert Mitchum

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