Word: gangsterisms
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...Bohemia in ramshackle cars, of sneaking through the woods at night, of his attempted resignation when the full proportions of the catastrophe became clear. Thereafter he adopts an impersonal tone, discourses on the duties of Federal agents, gives an unilluminating sketch of his own background, discusses the habits of gangsters and the weakness of law enforcement, retells the stories of the Factor, Bremer, Urschel and Robinson kidnappings, the deaths of Pretty Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson, John Dillinger. Best parts of American Agent are its thumbnail biographies of public enemies: Verne Miller, migratory worker, parachute jumper, sergeant...
Grant flies after her, but, despite the violent efforts of a friendly gangster, finds Bennett adamant. Disheartened and drunk he ponders what to give her as a wedding present until he remembers her love of fire-engines and thrills. Forthwith he summons to the place of marriage the firemen, the police, the riot squad, an ambulance from every hospital, an undertaker, and various electricians, street repair men, and maintenance trucks. The ensuing riot not only convinces Bennett that Grant is the right man for her, but greatly amused the critic and the rest of the audience. Grant is a superb...
Those who like amusing, superficial, wise-cracking movies will enjoy this one. George E. Stone plays a humorous and appealing gangster, and there is a good tune, "You On My Mind". It is a good escape drama for Hour Exam blues...
...Give My Life" is pure melodrama at the end of which there should not be a dry eye in the audience. Tom Brown and Francis Drake are two love-birds who work in a gangsters' nigh-club. Comes a reform governor who cracks down on the underworld, and in self-defense the gangster suddenly reveals that Tom is his son, and that Tom's mother, believing him dead, is now the wife of the governor. Father and son square off, and Tom shoots down the dirty dog. Tom allows himself to be led to the gallows, refusing to tell...
...think of American football. Well, I'll be frank. When I saw about 40 hunched and helmeted figures charge out on the field my first instinct was to fly. They all looked like an Australian desperado named Ned Kelly. This gentleman was a bush ranger (first cousin to a gangster), who, in the last century, acquired a coat of chain mail, made himself a helmet out of a kerosene tin, and terrified the Australian bush by daring feats of robbery and violence...