Word: screens
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Murder, My Sweet" is another happy product of Hollywood's new policy of providing basically grade B detective yarns with skilled directors and adequate budgets to turn out entertaining, if unsophisticated screen fare. Although "Murder, My Sweet" does not measure up to the high standard set by "Laura"--which it seeks to imitate--it is nevertheless a welcome and wholesale relief from the sagas of bullets and blackjacks so long advertised as "second...
...twenties, when producers undertook to carry out such colossal, stupendous ideas as filming the Bible. It demonstrates the obvious fact that sensuous revels cannot be mixed with martyrs to produce sincere religious inspiration, and it proves that the genuine fervor of the Passion Play cannot be transferred to the screen...
...Tree Grows in Brooklyn" has turned up on the screen quite cleaned up and edited, but the sordid spirit and the pat honesty are still very much in evidence. If the story is inclined to bore the avid action fan with its straightforward excess of emotion, then the indictment probably spares Hollywood and goes back to Betty Smith...
...wish. When he discarded humble Sibyl Vane (Angela Lansbury) and she killed herself, the mouth of the portrait warped in cruelty. He locked it away, where only he could see it. As the years passed, and he lost himself in every depth, of vice the screen dare hint at, he watched the portrait's gradual and fantastic corruption.* He saw how blood sprang out on the right hand when at length he committed murder...
...love story is as complicated as radar and as contrived as a screen queen's eyelashes. Yet scene by scene, as played by the extremely personable Phillip Terry (third and present husband of Joan Crawford) and by subtly tough Audrey Long, it becomes about twice as real as the run of movie love bouts. The singing and dancing numbers are on the whole refreshingly lacking in Hollywood's normal polish; they have, indeed, a good deal of the seamy vitality of authentic floor shows. Even more authentic is Robert Benchley's sleepy applause...