City Streets

Nan Cooley (Sylvia Sidney) of Rouben Mamoulian's City Streets leads a charmed life. Her racketeer father ensures a comfortable life for her and she gets involved with circus sharpshooter The Kid (Gary Cooper). But then she gets sent to jail for being an accessory to murder, and Nan wants nothing to do with the criminal life...which is a problem because The Kid has since gotten into the business.

In contrast to Mamoulian's more lavish productions like Queen Christina and Blood and Sand, City Streets is more bare-bones to the director's other works. That's not to disregard it, far from it. If anything, we get to see glimpses of what would become fixtures in his later career.

Similar to what Mamoulian would do with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he depicts the duality of both Nan and The Kid's personalities in the life of crime. She seems fine with a sense of normalcy after her prison stint whereas he fully embraces the thrill of criminal behavior after first balking it. But what will this shift in attitudes mean for the couple?

Also on display in City Streets is a sort of misogyny that becomes more prevalent in later films in the genre. A moll becomes blind with jealousy as her man blatantly makes passes at Nan (who isn't interested) but her anger is directed solely at the other woman. Frustratingly, she's the only other female character of note in the film. Still, better than Nan being the token woman in a male-dominated film.

City Streets is surprisingly seedier than other genre titles of the era. In comparison to those starring James Cagney, there's an obvious emptiness in the opulence on display. (Material goods to make up for emotional vacancy?) And Mamoulian would feature that in later works too.

My Rating: ****1/2

Merrily We Go to Hell

When heiress Joan Prentice (Sylvia Sidney) first meets reporter Jerry Corbett (Fredric March) at the start of Dorothy Arzner's Merrily We Go to Hell, she's instantly smitten. They soon get engaged but Joan finds out that Jerry has a drinking problem. Through thick and thin, she stays loyal to him but how far will her devotion go?

Its title makes Merrily We Go to Hell sound like it'll be one of the scandalous pre-Codes of the era. In reality, however, it's more of how codependency isn't the foundation of a strong marriage (Joan bases her role as Jerry's wife on his happiness and little else). And that's not even getting into Jerry's relationship woes before (and since) marrying Joan.

Of course, being a pre-Code, the film neither condones nor condemns Jerry's actions but rather acknowledges that he could stand to change his ways a bit. Joan herself also gets this treatment when she starts to emulate Jerry but -- due to her health -- this phase of hedonism is short-lived. Sometimes a destructive lifestyle harms more than the person imbibing it.

As she would also show with Dance, Girl, Dance, Arzner shows how life can be unfair for women, some begrudgingly making sacrifices to achieve their dreams. In contrast to what Judy O'Brien went through in the later title, what Joan endures is far more demeaning. To watch your husband being flaunted by his lover and have to behave like it doesn't bother you...it doesn't get much crueler than that.

Merrily We Go to Hell is just proof that Arzner should be held in the same regard as her male contemporaries. (Just because she's a woman doesn't lessen her worth.) Her work was rediscovered shortly before her death in 1979; it's high time it gets another one.

My Rating: *****

What Price Hollywood?

We've all seen the standard trope: girl hopes to be a big name, gets a lucky break, and then is confronted with the pitfalls of fame soon after. The more famous example of this is found in A Star is Born with four versions being made over the years. But five years before the Fredric March and Janet Gaynor version, the one that started it all was released.

George Cukor's What Price Hollywood? has Brown Derby waitress Mary Evans (Constance Bennett) making a beeline for director Maximillan Carey (Lowell Sherman) when he stumbles into the restaurant one night. With some determination, she becomes a star but he slips deeper into alcoholism. What fates await them?

In contrast to Cukor's take on A Star is Born, What Price Hollywood? -- as its title implies -- has a far more suffocating depiction of stardom than the more famous title. (Being a pre-Code also adds to it.) Tabloids and newspapers serve as the film's segues for the characters' conflicts, how the public eye pries into their private lives. That can inflict more damage than anything else, especially if you're someone of note.

There's also a meta-humor with What Price Hollywood? in casting Sherman and Gregory Ratoff -- both directors in their own right -- as figures in movie production. Likewise, Bennett (whose sister Joan had a longer career herself) had her career become less in-demand by the 1940s. Ah, life imitating art imitating life.

What Price Hollywood? still has bite all these years later, perhaps not a surprise seeing as it's a Cukor title. If anything, it downplays what actresses endured in Hollywood then as Judy Garland was sad testament to. (Cukor meanwhile lapped up the Hollywood lifestyle.) And how strange how very little has changed since then...

My Rating: *****

You and Me

The opening moments of Fritz Lang's You and Me shows the employees of a department store interacting with their customers. The behavior of some of them raises a few eyebrows. It turns out -- at the insistence of the store's owner -- the employees are parolees.

Two of the employees -- Joe Dennis (George Raft) and Helen Roberts (Sylvia Sidney) -- decide to get married and for a while, they seem happy. But Joe's criminal past is always close behind, and Helen isn't exactly forthright about her own past. What will happen to the newlyweds?

Now a premise like that makes You and Me sound like it's on par with Lang's noir titles like The Big Heat and The Blue Gardenia. In fact, there's a surprising levity to this that one may not associate with it with Lang's work. Thanks to Virginia Van Upp's script, it's a charming oddity in the director's oeuvre.

Lang himself wasn't proud of the finished product but that doesn't mean that it should be disregarded. You and Me was his third film with Sidney so he certainly knew what her strengths were by this point. Likewise, this was a subversion of the tough guy roles that made Raft famous. So all in all, it isn't as lackluster as Lang claims.

You and Me loses steam in its final third but Raft and Sidney keep it going nonetheless. In comparison to Lang's more famous titles, it's more of a breather amid his darker ones. So if you ever come across it in the near future, be sure to check it out.

My Rating: ***1/2

Three on a Match

Mervyn LeRoy's Three on a Match opens with three schoolgirls going their separate ways after graduating from public school. Mary (Joan Blondell) ends up in reform school and becomes a showgirl. Ruth (Bette Davis) opts for business school and becomes a stenographer. Vivian (Ann Dvorak) marries into a comfortable life but finds herself bored with it.

Soon after they reunite -- and the titular superstition is invoked -- Vivian runs off with another man with her young son in tow. And the luck of the three women shifts following Vivian's decision, some good and some bad. But what will befall them after all of them?

There's just that certain spark to pre-Code titles that Hollywood has tried to replicate countless times in the years since that brief era to varying success. And boy, does Three on a Match have that spark in spades. (There's a promotional still of Blondell that perhaps best exemplifies this period in Hollywood.) Just goes to show that there's no Hollywood era quite like the pre-Code one.

LeRoy -- a man whose career dipped its toe in various genres throughout the years -- shows a sharp eye towards the melodramatic nature of Three on a Match. As he would do with Waterloo Bridge and Random Harvest the following decade, he doesn't demonize the leads for their wrongdoings as they try to survive in the world they're a part of. Some are simply put on the wrong path beyond their control.

Three on a Match shows that Hollywood just doesn't make movies like they used to nearly a century ago. Very seldom do you see character morality get tested nowadays as was commonplace for the pre-Code era, let alone complicated female characters. And boy, is that ending a doozy.

My Rating: *****

When Tomorrow Comes

When waitress Helen Lawrence (Irene Dunne) meets Philip Chagal (Charles Boyer) in John M. Stahl's When Tomorrow Comes, she gets along with him very well. He in turn is instantly smitten. Their casual acquaintance blossoms into a romance but something (or someone) is holding them back...

Released the same year as Love Affair (another romantic melodrama starring Dunne and Boyer), When Tomorrow Comes isn't quite as romantic as its premise makes it out to be. Despite the best efforts of Dunne's besotted expressions and Boyer's purr of a French accent, it doesn't very much live up to its potential. And there's very much a reason for it.

That reason being how When Tomorrow Comes tries to somewhat justify Helen and Philip's ultimately adulterous liaison: his wife isn't of sound mind. In a half-baked attempt to rehash Jane Eyre of sorts, it only stigmatizes mental illness to explain away why Helen and Philip should be together at all (though Philip remains dutiful to his wife). It's not a great message to be shown in all honesty.

Anyway, being one of three Stahl films later remade by Douglas Sirk, it's a stark contrast to his more famous title Leave Her to Heaven. But at the same time, there's a similarity in that both films feature a possessive wife (though the later film has a much more malicious example). Still, to compare the two is an instance of apples and oranges.

When Tomorrow Comes isn't on par with the other weepies of '39 like Dark Victory and Wuthering Heights but the leads' shared charisma can only go so far. But hey: you got Stahl adapting a James M. Cain story...even though Cain would end up suing Universal.

My Rating: ***1/2

The Old Dark House

How does someone like James Whale follow up a success like Frankenstein? Simple: do something within the same genre. A year after making his (loose) adaptation of Mary Shelley's magnum opus, Whale decided to make an adaptation of J.B. Priestley's novel Benighted, now re-titled as The Old Dark House. But how does it fare in the shadow of Frankenstein?

Stuck amid terrible weather, Philip (Raymond Massey) and Margaret Waverton (Gloria Stuart) and their friend Roger Penderel (Melvyn Douglas) find refuge in a dilapidated manor in the Welsh countryside. Later joined by William Porterhouse (Charles Laughton) and Gladys DuCane (Lilian Bond), they find themselves trying to survive the night in this ethereal home. But will they?

Adding some comedic touches to the otherwise faithful script, The Old Dark House has some more levity compared to Universal's other horror films of the era. (Douglas gets the bulk of the one-liners.) It's from this light humor that the otherwise tense situation is alleviated. (Doesn't always work for the better, mind you.)

And The Old Dark House features a number of actors that either had worked with Whale before or would work with him again. Among them are Stuart (The Invisible Man), Ernest Thesiger (Bride of Frankenstein), and Boris Karloff (needs no explanation, does it?) Granted, Stuart was under contract at Universal but the point still stands.

The Old Dark House may not have quite the scares it dished out in 1932 but that aside, it's still a solid picture nearly ninety (!) years later. Whale clearly had a knack for directing so knowing that his Hollywood career was a brief one (20 films in 11 years!) shows that the industry lost out on other Whale-helmed projects. Oh, what could have been...

My Rating: ****

The Doorway to Hell

Louie Ricarno (Lew Ayres) has it made early on in Archie Mayo's The Doorway to Hell. Running a thriving bootlegging business, he also pulls the strings of the Chicago underworld. But at the height of his power, he decides to marry Doris (Dorothy Matthews) and retire to Florida, handing the reins over to right-hand man Steve Mileaway (James Cagney). But will Louie get tempted back into criminal behavior?

Being made before the Hays Code went into effect, The Doorway to Hell plays into this then-controversial era of filmmaking. (Its tagline -- "The picture Gangland defied Hollywood to make!" -- acknowledges the sensational nature they've accumulated.) But is it as shocking as it boasts?

In comparison to the other pre-Code gangster pictures, it's surprisingly tame. But the focus of The Doorway to Hell isn't so much on the violence as it is on Louie's morality. He's more than happy to give up crime for golf and writing his memoirs. But when his enemies launch an attack that hits too close to home, that's when Louie's ruthlessness comes to light.

Much like what he'd do with Humphrey Bogart in The Petrified Forest a few years down the line, Mayo gives Cagney his big break in The Doorway to Hell. A year before his starring turn in The Public Enemy, it was clear that he would be commanding the show in no time. (He does plenty of that here.)

The Doorway to Hell may not pack the same punch as later gangster pictures but it's still good at times. Ayres might be viewed as miscast (why him instead of Cagney?) but again, it's more on Louie's morality rather than his toughness. And Ayres got that part down pat.

My Rating: ***1/2

The Rains Came

At a formal dinner early on in Clarence Brown's The Rains Came, former lovers Lady Edwina Esketh (Myrna Loy) and Tom Ransome (George Brent) reunite. He very much wants to rekindle their affair while she has her sights set on Hindu doctor Maj. Rama Safti (Tyrone Power). She admits she's trying to seduce Rama out of boredom but will it result in something else?

Released the same year as other big screen spectacles like Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz, The Rains Came is mostly forgotten to today's audiences. But there's one aspect of the film that stands out: the special effects. It doesn't take much to see how it won the Oscar over the two previously alluded titles.

Being made within the Hays Code, Edwina's flirtations are treated with scorn by nearly everyone she encounters. How dare a woman go behind her husband's back (especially if he knows of them) for her own personal urges? After all, women are supposed to only be wives and mothers, nothing else. (At least that's what the most conceited of people would think.)

But Edwina develops a sense to redeem herself after spending more time with Rama. (If you're familiar with other fiction following this premise, you may know the outcome.) Admittedly such a conclusion might seem like cheap writing but bear in mind this was a time when women had very little standing outside a domestic setting; they had to break free somehow.

The Rains Came may follow the conventions of storytelling at the time but the work from its three leads warrant a look at least. (It also showed Power's underused talent.) It has that balance of adventure and romance, a common trait of films from that era, but one that only works a scant number of times. (This, of course, is one such example.)

My Rating: ****

It's Love I'm After

The opening scene of Archie Mayo's It's Love I'm After has Basil Underwood (Leslie Howard) and Joyce Arden (Bette Davis) performing the final scene of Romeo and Juliet. Between lines of passion, they mutter insults under their breaths. All while the audience -- which includes infatuated heiress Marcia West (Olivia de Havilland) -- remain unaware.

That said, Basil and Joyce are crazy for one another. (Suffice to say this is much more amusing if you've seen Howard and Davis in Of Human Bondage beforehand.) They plan to get married for the umpteenth time but Basil gets whisked away at the very last minute. And it has something to do with Marcia.

Reuniting with Howard and Davis a year after The Petrified Forest, Mayo gets these two otherwise serious actors to loosen up. (Certainly not usual fare for them or de Havilland, that's for sure.) And considering some of the roles in the actors' futures (Gone with the Wind for Howard and de Havilland, many roles of note for Davis), it's a nice change of pace. Suffice to say none of them would hit this comedic peak again.

And again, screwball comedy sounds like the very last thing any of its lead actors would try to conquer. But considering the collective sixteen Oscar nominations between the three of them, they obviously had talent. Sometimes it takes the right director to utilize all of that talent.

It's Love I'm After is a riot to watch, especially considering the names attached to it. It also shows how Hollywood's foray into comedy was often better whilst under the Hays Code. (One can only stand so many lewd jokes in contemporary titles.)

My Rating: *****

Personal Property

It's a shame that Jean Harlow left this world at such a young age. Who knows what her career would've been like had she not died at twenty-six? Would she still be held in the same regard as she is now?

Ergo there's a certain sadness when watching her in W.S. Van Dyke's Personal Property, the last film of Harlow's to be released during her lifetime. She has a quick wit about her throughout the film, especially aided when she banters with co-star Robert Taylor. (Had she lived long enough, they probably would've gone on to have a film partnership like William Powell -- Harlow's fiance -- and Myrna Loy.)

A remake of The Man in Possession from six years earlier, Personal Property is a comedy of manners, something that comes to a head during a dinner party hosted by Crystal (Harlow). Her guests become oblivious to the thinly-veiled insults thrown about. (Worth mentioning that some of the guests are part of Raymond's (Taylor) family.) To watch Crystal and Raymond being in on the joke adds to the humor.

Back to the stars for a moment. Throughout his career, Taylor tended to get overshadowed by his leading ladies (Camille, Three Comrades, Waterloo Bridge) but with Personal Property, he and Harlow share the screen gracefully. It's not that often both then and now where the leading man and lady's chemistry compliments one another. (Then again, this perhaps isn't much of a surprise considering Van Dyke made The Thin Man a few years earlier.)

Personal Property is a joy to watch but again, knowing what happened to Harlow that same year leaves many "what could have been" scenarios as a result. Still, her rapport with Taylor will have you happy that her short time alive is still beloved today.

My Rating: ****

Private Lives

Love and marriage, love and marriage...go together like a horse and carriage... Or at least that's how the song goes. If fiction has shown us anything, it's nothing more than a union of a tempestuous nature. (Because -- at least according to Hollywood -- stable marriages are boring.)

And boy, there is never a dull moment in Sidney Franklin's Private Lives. (Being based on a Noël Coward play certainly helps.) Despite being divorced and newly married to other people, Amanda Payne (Norma Shearer) and Elyot Chase (Robert Montgomery) find themselves in each other's arms. That said, they argue more than enjoy the other's company.

This being a pre-Code title, there's decidedly a more lax attitude in Private Lives towards infidelity. (After all, Shearer did The Divorcee just the previous year.) As shown with other films from this brief era, it has an "I don't give a damn" attitude essentially from the get-go. (Even films today aren't as brazen.)

Shearer and Montgomery were frequent collaborators (Private Lives was their fourth of five films), and it's very clear that they were comfortable with each other. And boy, does ti come to a head here. There are enough sparks and hair flying between them to warrant a safety hazard.

Private Lives shows that they just don't make 'em like they used to anymore. Shearer and Montgomery solidify their worth in their respective Hollywood era which -- as they would show with later roles -- proved that they were more than willing to break free from their glamorous typecasting. After all, the line between elegant and ugly was regularly blurred then.

My Rating: *****

Top Hat

Ah, mistaken identity: sheer fodder for comedy. It could fall into grating territory for those not patient with such a plot. But if it's done properly, it can lead to something good.

Mark Sandrich's Top Hat follows such a plot. Upon first seeing Dale Tremont (Ginger Rogers), Jerry Travers (Fred Astaire) becomes smitten with her. Dale, however, thinks Jerry is her friend's husband. As you can imagine, hijinks ensue.

Top Hat was the fourth of ten films Astaire and Rogers did together bit it's easily the best-known of their collaboration. It has a buoyant almost slapstick air to it, certainly not something one would expect from the elegantly dressed pair. But it works nonetheless.

And of course with Astaire and Rogers being the stars, the main focus of Top Hat is the dancing. (This is where the famous "Cheek to Cheek" number comes from.) Being made in a time when the Great Depression was only just beginning, it provided audiences that escape they were looking for from reality.

Top Hat shows that sometimes the best remedy for the blues is a dose of Astaire and Rogers. (Hell, any musical, really.) Come to think of it, isn't that always a good remedy for when feeling down, seeking out a movie of a lighthearted nature? (From personal experience, it often works.)

My Rating: *****

Footlight Parade

As the song goes, there's no business like show business like no business I know. And boy, Hollywood sure loves to proving that time and time again. It doesn't matter if it's the good, the bad or the ugly; the industry is just a feeding ground for material.

Lloyd Bacon's Footlight Parade follows Chester Kent (James Cagney) as he tries to eke out a living following the advent of talkies. This being during the Great Depression, it's a hard time for most everyone trying to make it. But will Chester be fortunate enough to do so?

Being a film with choreography by Busby Berkeley, Footlight Parade has those stunning musical numbers. (And Berkeley wasn't even the first choice for the job.) Anyway, when you see those intricate pieces, you almost forget that the United States was in the throes of financial ruin.

Bear in mind that Cagney only made his big break two years prior with The Public Enemy, and already he was being typecast in gangster roles. But as he would show with his other films that year (as well as his Oscar-winning role in Yankee Doodle Dandy nine years later), there was more to him than as the hoodlum with a temper that matched his height; the man had range.

Footlight Parade is a delight. The rapid-fire delivery from the actors -- Cagney and Joan Blondell in particular -- shows that they just don't make 'em like they used to. (Honestly, screenwriters should take notes from pre-Code titles.)

My Rating: ****

City Lights

It must have been a daunting task for Charlie Chaplin to make City Lights in a time when silent pictures were already a thing of the past. (Richard Attenbourough's biopic on Chaplin decades later shines a light on this conundrum.) No one thought that such an endeavor would work. But Chaplin knew it would.

Admittedly City Lights has a premise that could easily cheapened (Chaplin's tramp falls for a blind flower girl) but he makes sure that doesn't happen. (A hard task for anyone, let's be honest.) And in under ninety minutes, Chaplin creates a story for the ages.

Between him and Buster Keaton, Chaplin is the winner when it comes to story. (Keaton, however, is more victorious when it comes to stunts.) As Chaplin would later do with the likes of Modern Times and Limelight, he depicts a sense of nostalgia for bygone era, yearning for a time no longer there.

Chaplin also shows with City Lights is how he utilizes sound in an otherwise silent film. Using a self-composed score and some well-placed sounds effects, he displays a knowing sense of the evolving medium but would prefer to adhere to old methods. Only Chaplin could do such a thing.

City Lights could've reached sappy levels that could rival your average 1950s melodrama but Chaplin ensures that doesn't happen. As proven by the final scene, he displays so much poignancy and heartbreak with a gentle flicker in the eyes. After all, one picture is worth a thousand words.

My Rating: *****

Blonde Crazy

There's something about actors that hail from New York City that have that extra oomph for their performances. Barbara Stanwyck, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Tony Curtis...something about their street smarts adds to their acting. And boy, that was all the more prevalent during the pre-Code era.

Roy Del Ruth's Blonder Crazy stars two such names: James Cagney and Joan Blondell. Throughout both their careers they played characters who follow their own rules and don't take guff from anyone. And since they play con artists here, it takes another step further.

As proven by later films Taxi! and Lady Killer, Del Ruth got an energetic turn out of Cagney. (Then again, most if not all of the pre-Code films he starred in can be applied to this scenario.) He delivers his lines at a mile a minute, a frequent expectation of stars during this era. And like countless later titles of his, Cagney commands the screen.

Not that Blondell isn't able to hold her own. (In fairness, holding one's own alongside a legend like Cagney is far from easy.) Like Barbara Stanwyck, she wouldn't shy away from telling someone off. If she doesn't like someone, she'll say so right to their face. (Honestly, we need more female characters like this nowadays.)

Blonde Crazy may not be the best of Cagney's pre-Codes but it's certainly one of the more entertaining. It's because of his rapport with Blondell that makes it so. It also serves as a nice temporary escape.

My Rating: ****

Four's a Crowd

After three adventure-filled pictures, Warner Bros. decided to put their popular screen couple Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland in something lighter. In this instance, a comedy of the romantic screwball variety. Admittedly it's the lesser-known of their eight films but it doesn't warrant it as one that should be completely ignored.

Released the same year as The Adventures of Robin Hood, Michael Curtiz's Four's a Crowd has both Flynn and de Havilland in particular delivering their lines at a decidedly more frenzied pace than their earlier collaborations. (An expectation of comedy back then?) It's sort of a shame that neither of them indulged in the genre more often.

But Flynn and de Havilland aren't the only stars of Four's a Crowd. Also with them are Rosalind Russell (who would soon do The Women and His Girl Friday) and Patric Knowles (who was in the last two Flynn/de Havilland films). And both of them hold their own, Russell in particular.

This must've been an interesting undertaking for Curtiz. Prior to Four's a Crowd, he'd done the likes of gangster pictures and adventure flicks. (He had yet to make Casablanca and Mildred Pierce.) Comedy was something he didn't frequently dabble in (that fact becomes obvious in some scenes) though Curtiz did have luck within a few other scenes.

Being the lesser-known of the Flynn/de Havilland collaborations, it's understandable as to why Four's a Crowd isn't as prominent. But that shouldn't deter one from seeking it out. After all, it showed that should his swashbuckling days end abruptly, Flynn could've made a name for himself in a similar vein to Cary Grant.

My Rating: ****

In Old Chicago

History and Hollywood make for strange bedfellows, especially during its Golden Age. Many times accuracy takes a back seat for entertainment. It hasn't improved much over the decades but sometimes it has its perks.

With Henry King's In Old Chicago, it takes liberties on the climatic fire that consumed the city in 1871. That aside, King shows (as he would in the years to come) how well he can tell a story. (That's saying a lot considering he would later make Alexander's Ragtime Band and The Song of Bernadette.)

Anyway, In Old Chicago stars the likes of Tyrone Power, Alice Faye and Don Ameche. (All three would reunite with King the following year for Alexander's Ragtime Band.) As proven by their next film with King, all three elevate the story (Power in particular).

Speaking of the story, In Old Chicago chronicles the life of an Irish family trying to survive within the hustle and bustle of the city. While the matriarch (Alice Brady) makes a honest living, one son (Power) turns to hustling while the other two (Ameche, Tom Brown) pursue more respectable lives. Unsurprisingly, conflict is regular within this tight-knit family.

In Old Chicago may have been made in response to San Francisco the previous year but it's easily a work of its own. King, a generally underrated director of Hollywood's Golden Age, depicts of nostalgia for Americana. Truly he's a name that should be held in the same regard as John Ford.

My Rating: ****1/2

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex

If looks could kill, Bette Davis' glare would've had her on trial for murder several times a year. (Same goes for her sharp tongue.) This was a woman who didn't give a damn about what others thought of her. As her epitaph says, she did it the hard way.

Not long after her second Oscar win for Jezebel, Davis starred in Michael Curtiz's The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. Alongside popular Warner Bros. couple Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland, she easily claims the show as her own. (Not a hard task for her to be honest.)

Though Flynn manages to hold his own fairly well. (Not bad for someone whose big break was only four years prior.) In contrast to Davis' persistent glowering, Flynn is of a more subdued frame of mind when it comes to acting. (Davis wouldn't realize it until years later.)

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex is similar to the previous year's The Adventures of Robin Hood in that it puts its costume designs on full Technicolor display. (And like the earlier film, de Havilland's smile just dazzles in this format.) And the cinematography by Sol Polito and W. Howard Greene is in vivid detail. (To think it lost to Gone with the Wind.)

It may have gotten lost amid the many big titles of 1939 but The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex does have its merits. From the work of its three stars to the decadent set design, it's one of several sumptuous titles of Curtiz's career. Clearly, that man knew how to do spectacle.

My Rating: ****

Dodge City

After years of playing the dashing swashbuckler (and in an attempt for Warner Bros. to keep up with the times), Errol Flynn soon started starring in westerns. Flynn himself thought he was miscast in the eight westerns he appeared in (he blamed his accent) but moviegoers didn't seem to mind.

The first of his octet of westerns was Michael Curtiz's Dodge City and with Flynn alongside regular leading lady Olivia de Havilland, it didn't take much for it to be a hit back in 1939. But how well does it hold up all these decades later?

To some, the sight of Flynn in cowboy gear may look silly but bear in mind this was someone who spent half of the previous decade in tights. Anyway, the point isn't about what he wore but how his character presented himself. And his Wade Hatton is definitely of the heroic variety.

Similar to The Adventures of Robin Hood the previous year, Dodge City is a Technicolor-drenched delight. (It certainly wouldn't have had the same effect had it been shot in black and white.) With the sweeping landscapes and a number of de Havilland's outfits, Sol Polito's cinematography is in full effect.

Dodge City may not rank among the great westerns but it's still entertaining. (And not just because of Flynn and de Havilland.) Its sense of adventure gave audiences an escape from the woes of the world. And let's be honest; considering what had yet to happen then, that's a good thing.

My Rating: ****