Princess O’Rourke (1943)

Cummings tries to wake de Havilland up in Princess O'Rourke

I just watched Princess O’Rourke last night and after making it through an early scene that really tried me–I get it, she takes a bunch of sleeping pills, but wow, the delivery of the pills from what began to feel like every player on the Warner’s lot got a little tedious–I wound up enjoying this one tremendously. Starring Olivia de Havilland as the Princess, the presence of Charles Coburn as her Uncle and Robert Cummings as the love interest really had me expecting Jean Arthur to pop up as that combo never let The Devil and Miss Jones (1941) run too far from my mind.

Coburn has hopes that de Havilland will marry one of the few eligible royal bachelors on the market, unfortunately the only one even near her in age has a ridiculous facial tick and is a total bore so de Havilland’s Princess has more or less resigned herself to growing into an old maid. The sleeping pill incident leaves her woozy in the arms of pilot Cummings after the flight is turned around. Waking up in Cummings’ PJs the next morning de Havilland’s curiosity gets the best of her and she meets up with him later in the day for what she insists be a very normal date. Not wanting him to do anything out of the ordinary for her, they spend their time with Cummings’ co-pilot, played by Jack Carson, and Carson’s wife, Jane Wyman. Cummings is led to believe by de Havilland that she’s a formerly wealthy refugee who’ll soon be forced to take a job as a maid. Poor de Havilland earns further pity from Cummings when she has to publicly admit to having no skills whatsoever when she tries to help out at a meeting of the Women’s Defense Corps in Wyman’s building.

Princess O’Rourke improves as it goes with the reveal to Cummings of de Havilland’s actual background coming much sooner than expected. Carson and Wyman are great in their supporting roles with one of the film’s only later weaknesses coming at their departure, never to be seen by viewers again. We also probably could have seen Coburn once more too. The main five players in Princess O’Rourke are outstanding with just a few awkward moments for de Havilland when she tries to lay the comedy on a little too thick (I felt bad for her when she tried imitating that facial tick I mentioned earlier). The romance that develops between her and Cummings is entirely believable, even if the resolution, involving the White House and a stand-in for one of FDR’s Scotties, is a bit over-the-top. Ray Walker and Minor Watson are good in their smaller roles and a Harry Davenport appearance always adds a little something, even if only for a few moments like in Princess O’Rourke.

In summary, excellent war-time slightly screwy romantic comedy.

Arrowsmith (1931)

Colman ties one on and declares 'The hell with science!'

I’ll watch anything with Ronald Colman in it, so I was very glad he was Martin Arrowsmith because I’m not a big fan of Helen Hayes, who plays his wife, Leora. Arrowsmith is a doctor with ambitions for important research. He meets Leora at his first job, they marry, and head back to her home town where Martin becomes country doctor. He fails at saving John Qualen’s child (medicine) but shines at fixing an outbreak of Black Leg Disease among cattle (research), angering state vet David Landau, who’s cranky as usual here. Martin realizes his ambition in going to work for the respected Professor Gottlieb (A.E. Anson), but after years of accomplishing nothing he’s about ready to throw in the towel. He winds up very nearly being the discoverer of a plague vaccine that’s put to use when he and an accented Richard Bennett take off to the West Indies in an abrupt change of scenery where they take to treating the sick natives. The outcome is bleak, the lesson is not to handle open vials of plague so cavalierly.

Oh, almost forgot, Myrna Loy shows up here too, though not until well into the film. Her relationship with Colman is only hinted at and her final scene seems altogether unnecessary with her coming forward to say a few words and practically backing out of the room as if she didn’t belong in the first place. She really didn’t.

In summary, maybe made a couple of years too early, Arrowsmith is a bit disjointed, but comes with enough surprises to retain interest throughout.

Bright Leaf (1950)

Coop and Donald Crisp in one of their more civil moments in Bright Leaf

I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this one and it, of the five films presented here, has the best chance for a more extensive write-up later. I’m a sucker for a rags to riches story involving big business and so I was naturally hooked by this tale following Gary Cooper’s entry into the tobacco business and how his cheap method of manufacturing cigarettes would crush the cigar industry led by Donald Crisp. Coop’s age is the main weakness here, though they never say just how young he’s supposed to be I got the distinct impression that he was supposed to be somewhat similar in age to Lauren Bacall and Patricia Neal, which is a little ridiculous. That said he really played Brant Royle well, developing into more and more of an SOB as the picture went on until, of course, he gets knocked back a few pegs. Also figuring on the scene are Jeff Corey as the inventor of the cigarette rolling machine (am I wrong for continually picturing Edward Everett Horton in this part?) and, once more, Jack Carson, as the former patent medicine barker Dr. Monaco who somehow gets a nice share of Coop’s biz simply by coming up with a snappy slogan about Royle Cigarettes being fit for a King.

In summary, nice historical piece, complicated love triangle with a complicated lead who seriously lacks ethics throughout most of the film. Good stuff!

Mrs. Parkington (1944)

Garson and Pidgeon come to an agreement over Major Parkington's List

Garson and Pidgeon in a movie whose title even has the same number of syllables as Miniver. An aged Garson presides over a family reminiscent of the group of heirs Robert Keith was saddled with in the Ida Lupino directed Twilight Zone episode The Masks, though perhaps the creepiest thing about the Parkington clan was Edward Arnold calling Greer Garson “Granny” throughout. Anyway, the strength of the story, connecting the financial corruption of the present, are the flashbacks depicting Garson’s romance with Major Parkington, a mustachioed Walter Pidgeon. The highlight of the film is the part leading into the creation of and the subsequent execution of Major Parkington’s list. The list is the self-made Major’s response to a society snubbing: crushing everyone who received an invitation leaving them penniless and driving some to suicide. Just the type of character I love to run across (see Bright Leaf, above), though the Major has many more redeeming qualities shown mostly through his relationship with his wife. Agnes Moorehead is good here, despite the accent, as the Major’s ex-lover turned into Mrs. Parkington’s society advisor.

In summary, nice period piece in the flashbacks, decent tale of corruption shown in the present day scenes. Garson’s development from innocent country-girl to savvy head of a corporate family is tracked nicely through the intermingling of the pieces.

Andy Hardy’s Private Secretary (1941)

Grayson overrules Rooney on the price of a pair of pants

I usually catch the Andy Hardy movies in bits and pieces. They’ll be on and I’ll sit down and get hooked in from somewhere in the middle til the end. This one I caught from the beginning and I must say I’m constantly amazed by how entertaining these are, I’m going to give them a bit more effort going forward. There are actually a few laugh out loud scenes early in this one between Mickey Rooney and Lewis Stone and even Stone with Ian Hunter as they navigate a thunderstorm in Andy’s jalopy. Ann Rutherford’s Polly takes a backseat through most of the picture to an extremely youthful Kathryn Grayson, making her film debut. The underprivileged Grayson, Hunter’s daughter, plays the secretary of the title as Andy busies himself by taking on just about every extra-curricular task of his soon to be graduating class. Judge Hardy sets to help out Hunter and his clan, Andy spoils it and then when he’s already down about that he finds out from Aunt Milly that he’s not going to graduate! Grayson sings opera throughout before snapping into a Cole Porter tune for Andy’s benefit.

In summary, don’t sneer at it, it’s good stuff! Very funny and at times even touching, the youthful Grayson is a treat and Rooney is full-tilt as Andy in this, the 10th full Hardy feature by my count.

See the entire set of 1936 Carreras Film Stars Tobacco Cards here.

Shop 1936 Carreras Film Stars Tobacco Cards in the Immortal Ephemera Store at prices 20% lower than I offer on eBay.

Previous Guide: 1934 Cracker Jack Mystery Club Cards

Get all of the details and see the revised Gallery and Checklist on the brand new 1934 Cracker Jack Mystery Club Movie Card Photo ID Guide.

1928 BAT Tobacco Card

Late 1920′s W618 Kashin Motion Picture Stars

1932 BAT Tobacco Card

1934 Godfrey Phillips Film Favourites Tobacco Card

1930s German Wer ist die Schonste Frau? Tobacco Card

1935 Carreras Film Stars Tobacco Card

1935 Gallaher Tobacco Card

1936 Faccino’s Cinema Stars Trading Card

1936 R95 8×10 linen textured premium photo

1938 Hamilton Gum Trading Card

Most of these movie cards and collectible images from my archives have long since sold out, but here’s a link to a worldwide eBay search of Thelma Todd collectibles where I’ve tried to filter out most of the DVDs and other media for you. Hope you enjoy(ed) all the Todd shorts and features on TCM today!

For more information about Thelma Todd check out Tammy Stone’s profile elsewhere on the site linked below:

Anyway to see most of the set please check out the brand new 1933 Dixie Premiums Photo ID Guide.

Here’s Immortal Ephemera favorite Madge Evans as a preview:

In addition to the Gallery is a text checklist and current sales offerings from the Immortal Ephemera Store.

See the entire 1934 Player’s Cigarettes Film Stars Photo ID Guide on this page.

Here’s card #30, Ida Lupino, just as an example of what the 50 cards in this set look like:

PS: I’ll be updating and hopefully completing the text checklist for the 1940′s Movie Star Bus Passes right after I hit the send button on this post.

In addition there’s some introductory text, a text checklist of what’s shown in the gallery, and sales listings of those bus passes currently for sale. It’s one of the most comprehensive pages on the site and it can be found here.

We’ll lead off with Alice Brady since she was the inspiration for the post:

Alice Brady above on a circa 1917 Kromo Gravure Trading Card. Brady below is shown with Tyrone Power in a shot from In Old Chicago. You’ll also know her from My Man Godfrey (1936) and Young Mr. Lincoln (1939).

We’ll go The Wizard of Oz (1939) route next:

Billie Burke is shown above on a vintage postcard at least as old as its’ 1908 postmark. Below she’s shown on a 1936 Ardath Tobacco Card along with Francis Lederer and Ann Sothern in My American Wife (1936). Besides knowing her as Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz, Billie Burke is well-known for her ditzy characterizations in popular classics such as Dinner At Eight (1933), Topper (1937), The Young In Heart (1938), The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942), etc. She’s one of the bigger stars on this list, as is our next one, at least they were usually billed!

I’ve noticed many more graphics on the page and in general a more improved Media section, but in prettying up many parts of the site they’ve unintentionally hurt a feature I personally use a lot for research–the Credited With link.

You’ll see “Credited With” in the left hand navigation on any single personality’s IMDb page. I use it to quickly tell you how many movies actor X appeared in with actor Y or with director Z. Spotting a shared credit that didn’t immediately jump to mind can often extend a post or take it in unexpected directions.

For awhile I found the “Credited With” link completely broken. As of yesterday I find it works every so often, though still more than half the time I just get a results page for the initial actor whose name I’ve entered with a picture of the DVD case at the left of the page and no combined credits whatsoever. Honestly, this post is as much a point of reference for myself as it is for you, but I figured if it was bugging me it had to be bugging someone else too!

Following is a sample URL which brings up search results for what’s called the “Most Popular Titles” featuring H.B. Warner and Cecil B. DeMille, two names I’m using in my next post:

It actually calls up any film that the two worked on together in any capacity, in other words, “Credited With.” If the “Credited With” link works for you or starts working more regularly in general, great, but if not just take that link and you can use it for any two personalities listed on the entire IMDb.

For instance, go to Charlton Heston’s page and you’ll see it at this address:

Now just copy the nm0000032 part of the Heston address and replace H.B. Warner’s nm0912478 from our original link producing this URL:

Go to that page and now you have the “Most Popular Titles With Charlton Heston and Cecil B. DeMille.”

I hope that helps someone out, but if not at least I have my own point of reference when I wish to use this feature!

Which town is this anyway?

If Zanuck had had his original way it would have been San Francisco’s own Gable pouring over the rubble of Old Chicago as well, but thankfully we have Tyrone Power seeking out his loved ones instead. I say thankfully not as a knock on Gable, I’m a big fan, but doing it twice would have cheapened both films, as it is we can kick back and enjoy them somewhat separately today. Had Gable been busy playing Dion O’Leary, Power may have found himself on MGM’s lot in what would eventually be the John Beal part in that studio’s Madame X (1937), which filmed at the same time. A trade had been worked out which would have swapped Power for that role in exchange for Jean Harlow playing what would become the Alice Faye part of Belle Fawcett in this film. Harlow’s tragic death on June 7th quashed that from happening.

Young Power had previously enjoyed a breakout role at 20th Century-Fox in another historical piece, Lloyd’s of London (1936), his first of eleven films which would be directed by Henry King–In Old Chicago is the second. While I’m a huge Power fan having previously reviewed Lloyd’s as well as Son of Fury (1942) and his final completed work, Witness for the Prosecution (1957), I actually chose In Old Chicago to write about at this time because of the presence of Alice Faye.

While not the best showcase of Faye, In Old Chicago does represent a big step forward in her career as well, but to get right down to it all that Netflix had available for Instant Viewing was this or Faye alongside Shirley Temple in Stowaway (1936), and I’m not quite ready to do that to myself yet. Alice Faye has grown on me from previous viewings of this film, plus Lillian Russell (1940), the wonderful Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938) which elevated me to fan status, and finally the interesting non-musical Hollywood Cavalcade (1940), where Faye gets herself dirty in slapstick routines with Buster Keaton!

It was after Hollywood Cavalcade that I finally made the move to purchase the 2002 Faye biography by Jane Lenz Elder (I’m enjoying it more than the Amazon reviews had led me to believe I would) and now I find myself contemplating the two Alice Faye DVD Collections as my next movie purchases … and, oh, Amazon is making it tough to resist by placing them both nearly 50% off as I type this!

What a woman! Tyrone Power, Andy Devine and Brian Donlevy eye Alice Faye as she performs

Anyway, I’m on a bit of an Alice Faye kick. Having a hard time breaking my gaze away from those big eyes shown on Elder’s dust jacket, while her husky singing voice really got to me in Alexander’s Ragtime Band and I fell for her as the madcap in Hollywood Calvacade. In Old Chicago was enhanced for me this time around in paying special attention to Belle, but truth be told I was left wanting a little more. Faye sings three songs by my count and of course owns the spotlight when she does so, but at this point Fox seemed a little nervous about letting her do much of anything dramatic and so her presence never really matches up to Power’s in the rest of her scenes when they’re together.

Alice Faye and Tyrone Power in In Old Chicago

Power, as is typical, owns his every scene through sheer star magnetism. What’s fun about his Dion O’Leary, especially in such an early role for Power, is that despite being the hero of the piece he’s by no means a good guy. Rascally and corrupt, Power’s Dion shines on his own mother and brother, outfoxes Brian Donlevy’s evil Gil Warren, so bad himself that he looks back fondly on his younger days of rounding up runaway slaves, but double-crossed so bad by Power that you still wind up feeling a little bad for him (just a very little), and finally after an early courtship that was more or less an example of successful stalking, Dion pulls his dirtiest trick on beautiful Belle. Dion crows so proudly over his twisted reasons for finally marrying her that his brother, Jack (Don Ameche), beats him bloody and we’re left to wonder how Belle could ever possibly forgive him.

Who'd win in a fight, Tyrone Power or Don Ameche? Not Ty this time around!

As the focus of the story is on Dion, at least before that cow kicks, I suppose we’re supposed to think of him as rascally at worst, unfortunately by the time Ameche is knocking him around, Power’s character seems beyond redemption. But Ty Power is young and handsome and so full of bravado that I suppose the audience is as taken in as Ameche, Donlevy, Faye and all the rest by the time he’s able to resuscitate his character’s character, through the Great Fire of course, and so when the man who once callously told his brother “You’re mayor, but I’m Chicago. And I’d hate to have to kick you out,” departs from our screen as Chicago’s greatest hope for the future, we’re buying. In fact I’d have sat still for another 90 minutes just to see how this fictional Dion O’Leary brought the burnt out town back, but unfortunately, that film doesn’t exist.

Power and Faye weren’t the only young up and comers roaming 1870′s Chicago, Don Ameche plays Power’s virtuous brother, Jack O’Leary, in an early role which shows him off well. Jack’s a complete straight-shooter, a young lawyer and soon the reform candidate and, as I’ve already given away, eventual Mayor of Chicago. Jack’s rise to power from total unknown is executed through Dion’s backhanded behind the scenes dealings, methods entirely unknown to Jack … until Dion tells him! Even after he learns how he came to office Jack is level-headed enough to realize that the means don’t matter now that he has the power and sets about to reform Chicago, especially it’s main blight, the Patch, which is buoyed by The Senate, aka Dion and Belle’s Place, a haven for gambling and drinking. The brothers seem always set against one another with poor Jack doing the best he can by honest means while Dion will pull any trick he can to come out on top whether it’s his little bro beneath him or not.

Don Ameche and Tyrone Power discuss the future of Old Chicago

Don Ameche had previously appeared with Power in Fox’s Ladies in Love a year earlier, while this was his first effort alongside Faye. The trio would be reunited the following year in Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938), where they would find their roles more equal despite the obvious weight towards Power’s character. The year after that Ameche would play the title role in the biopic The Story of Alexander Graham Bell, enjoying billing over such heavy hitters as Loretta Young and Henry Fonda. While Tyrone Power and Alice Faye were much bigger Golden Age stars than Don Ameche was, Ameche’s career would outdistance them in length and he’d find himself the only one of the three receiving (or even nominated for) an Academy Award, which he took home for Support in 1985′s Cocoon.

Speaking of Academy Awards In Old Chicago would receive six nominations including Best Picture and would take home two awards with Robert D. Webb winning for Best Assistant Director and Alice Brady winning Best Supporting Actress for her role as Mrs. Molly O’Leary, Dion and Jack’s mother. The plum part of Mrs. O’Leary, at its meatiest during Brady’s scenes with Alice Faye, whose Belle did not meet with matriarchal approval for entrance into the O’Leary clan, came near the end for the versatile Brady, who died too young, just a few days shy of her 47th birthday in 1939.

Daughter of famed producer William A. Brady, who survived his daughter by over ten years, Alice Brady had her start in opera, singing the lead in several Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, before turning to the dramatic stage in 1912 as Meg in Little Women. It was busy times for Miss Brady in New York as she continued to play in both operettas and dramatic pieces on stage and then began to act on screen in films released by World Pictures, a company formed by Arthur Spiegel and Lewis J. Selznick with Alice’s father, William A. Brady, as head of production. Selznick was forced out of World in 1916 and the company would fold at Spiegel’s death in 1917. William A. Brady would return to the world of theater, and while Alice would remain busy on stage she’d also sign on with Selznick’s new company, Select Pictures Corporation, formed in partnership with Adolph Zukor of Famous Players, which would itself eventually become Paramount.

She would resume her film career out West that year in MGM’s first version of When Ladies Meet (1933) presiding over the triangle of Ann Harding, Robert Montgomery and Myrna Loy as Bridget Drake, the part later played by Spring Byington in the 1941 remake of the same name (I wonder if Brady would have been offered the part in the ’41 version had she survived). In 1934 she played Ginger Rogers’ Aunt Hortense in the Astaire-Rogers classic The Gay Divorcee and in 1936 she’d be the ditzy matriarch in the screwball classic My Man Godfrey, for which she received her first Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress in 1937. Alice Brady was ill with cancer when she returned to New York for medical treatment after her final film, John Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln (1939), completed filming. Of her return to New York the AP includes a recent quote in her obituary where Brady remarked, “Perhaps it’s for the best. Now I can do a Broadway play again.”

From opera to operetta, the stage to the screen, silent film to talkies and screwball comedies to weepy drama, Alice Brady was successful in just about every facet available for a performer of her time. Her Mrs. O’Leary in In Old Chicago was a feisty Irish mother of three who fought for her living running a laundry out of her home at the birth of Chicago. Her husband dies as the O’Leary’s arrive in 1854 and Molly O’Leary is left to raise boys Dion, Jack, and Bob (Tom Brown) all on her own. This fictional Mrs. O’Leary isn’t only owner of the cow who burns Chicago down, but mother to the two young go-getters, Jack, who seeks to reform Chicago and Dion, who capitalizes on its vice.

Alice Brady's Molly O'Leary comforts son Dion in In Old Chicago. Up above Brady is shown on what is probably a very early 1920's postcard promoting her while with Realart and below that to the right she is shown on a circa 1917 Kromo Gravure trading card in a photo probably taken at the time she was working for her father at World.

Youngest son Bob is contentedly married to presumably German Gretchen (June Storey), apparently just the type of girl Mrs. O’Leary would hope each of her sons would find, unlike Alice Faye’s Belle Fawcett, Dion’s business partner and lead attraction at their bar. While Dion moons “What a woman,” upon encountering Belle, the performer is too much the modern woman in his mother’s eye. Plied with beer and tricked into a carriage ride with Belle, Molly O’Leary isn’t shy about insulting the younger woman, hurting Belle and foiling Dion’s ploy of softening her stance. It takes the tragedy of the Great Fire itself for Mrs. O’Leary to find common ground with Belle through each woman’s love of Dion.

You can tell by Mrs. O'Leary's expression that she's not too thrilled with Dion's surprise introduction to Belle

The real star of In Old Chicago, the disaster itself, makes it’s long awaited entrance near the end of the film, but the story leading up to the half million dollar scene was more interesting that it’s usually credited as being. If you want history, rent a documentary, this is the movies and we’re rewarded with stories that usually have to break from the text books to hold the attention of a mass audience. That’s entertainment. And in its buildup to the Great Fire In Old Chicago did spin an interesting tale of 19th Century local politics whereby Dion acts behind the scenes to make his brother Mayor at the expense of local businessman Gil Warren (Donlevy).

Warren, the biggest man in town prior to the rise of the O’Leary boys, disappears for much of the film while newly elected Jack slowly but surely forces reform upon brother Dion’s part of town, the Patch. When the fire is said to originate from the O’Leary house Gil Warren reappears suggesting it was set on purpose by Jack to burn out the Patch. The idea makes just enough sense for Dion to seek answers from Jack while at his exit Warren riles up the locals a bit more by telling them Dion is likely in on this as well. Having done battle with the O’Leary’s before Warren knows Dion plays dirty and the rest of the townsfolk are more than willing to buy the idea that they’re in on burning out the Patch together. As the flames spread across Chicago the human element on the street turns ugly as well as Warren has his attempt at vengeance.

Gil Warren leads a mob

The romance between Dion and Belle takes a definite back seat to the action and political intrigue, but is necessary so that Zanuck can relive Gable’s search for Jeanette MacDonald through the rubble of San Francisco. Here we have Belle seeking Dion, Mrs. O’Leary seeking her family, Dion seeking Jack, and Dion seeking his mother, though honestly Dion doesn’t seem to be in such a hurry to find Belle, going so far as to ignore her during the touching scene where he finds Molly O’Leary–uh, Dion, Belle’s right there! Only after Dion sets things right with Molly O’Leary does he bother turning to Belle, leaving the romantic storyline the most unrewarding part of In Old Chicago.

In it’s whole however there is plenty going on and while the pre-disaster story may not be anything so special it is still a nice look to the past filled with strong performances by three young players who would soon be among 20th Century-Fox’s biggest stars. While Alice Faye contributes the least her songs justify her presence and her non-musical scenes give a hint of better things to come.

As Old Chicago burns down the locals take to safety in the water