DANGER LIGHTS (1930)

One could easily assume this RKO film’s cinematographers were supervised by people who love trains. No doubt the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul, and Pacific Railroad’s cooperation was a significant force to show their first-class railroad at work. It is the most authentic steam railroad movie Hollywood ever made. No restored museum locomotives were used. No CGI necessary. Typical of dramas in this era, there is no distraction or needed help from a music score. The filming of actual freight train operations is singularly unique with an opening landslide expertly authentic. It is a true time capsule of an era that might otherwise remain unknown. The acting is more than satisfactory, though it is typical 1930 melodramatic storytelling. Some scenes are treated like stage plays with cued entrances. But first and foremost this is a railroad film which happens to have actors in it. Just the opposite of Titanic (1997), a concocted love story in which the lovers happen to be on a "boat" that sinks. In this regard, Danger Lights stands alone. Today's viewer needs to accept this, otherwise, it will only play as an outdated, corny film with yucky, polluting trains.

Louis Wolheim, who would die suddenly one year later in real life, plays the burly rail yard boss in Miles City, Montana. A singular career man who gets things done. Nobody loafs or gets a free ride on his watch. A few boxcar hobos are quickly put to work to help clear the tracks after the aforementioned landslide. Robert Armstrong, a former railroad engineer, is one of them. Wolheim recognizes Armstrong simply needs to get his self-esteem back and hires him. Jean Arthur, Wolheim's fiancé knows their love story is far-fetched. Her father has long desired she would marry the hard-working, honest and polite railroader. But he exudes all the romantic charm of a jackhammer. A steam locomotive has a more attractive face. This is where handsome, energetic Armstrong comes bounding in to fill her void. Once he and Arthur meet it is full steam ahead and Wolheim is uncoupled and placed on a siding. 

Few films paint a more accurate picture of a steam locomotive's “romantic” era than one scene from inside Arthur’s living room. I am not sure if miniatures were used at all or exactly how the scene was shot, but it is realistic enough. Perhaps a studio set with real train footage superimposed in the background. As curtains flutter in the summer breeze through the open windows, we see a freight train in the distance and hear the engineer’s unique, personal whistle signifying it is Armstrong to Arthur's heartfelt delight. This is authentically true as many engineers had their own recognizable, rhythmic “song.” 

The young couple decides to elope on the next train to Chicago. During the rainy night, Wolheim spots them walking down the tracks and goes into a jealous rage, pounding toward them with steel fists. Armstrong steps between two tracks as it switches, getting his shoe caught in between. Suddenly, Wolheim's anger is thwarted by what he sees. Armstrong is in the path of an approaching high-speed train. Danger lights! The big-hearted boss yanks him free but a stuffed, limp dummy takes a nasty hit in the head by the locomotive’s cylinder. Had it been a real person he would have died instantly. Not in Hollywood. Wolheim’s only hope of surviving his "migraine" is to get him to specialists in Chicago in record time. Armstrong volunteers. It is an eye full for locomotive fans and exciting for everyone else, including beautiful pan shots of the train crossing an iron bridge, around curves, with top-mounted cameras through cities. After returning home, the recovering Wolheim resolutely acknowledges to Arthur his first love will always be the railroad. Though she feels guilty for not honoring his long courtship, inside she is secretly jumping off the ceiling with joy.

Notes: There are doses of humor from Wolheim. Armstrong and Arthur have a humorous romantic encounter as he is washing up, singing a jaunty tune. But it is Hugh Herbert who must carry the torch. Herbert does double duty as the film's dialogue director and a lovable hobo who expects a great deal of respect for his position in life. He sheepishly threatens to report the railroad if he is not treated properly. Wolheim acts tough but the old softy takes it in stride. Herbert hanging on for dear life between two rail cars during the climatic, dusty, record run to Chicago certainly cures him of wanderlust. 

IMPACT (1949)

The first fifty minutes of this Harry Popkin Productions film are the strongest. The implausible premise prevents keeps it from being an A-list picture. The pacing is more encouraging, however, as it sets up the impact on a husband whose wife hates him beyond his understanding. In this twisty script, Brian Donlevy is first-rate as a highly paid automotive production manager and loving husband. Helen Walker delivers a convincing performance, too, as many viewers would have wanted to reach out and slap her had the film been released in 3D. In a role before her career shift to television, Ella Raines adds a freshness to the film and more than enough encouragement for Donlevy's character. The musical score by Michel Michelet does a great job of enhancing the mood of most scenes with a restrained theremin when appropriate. Charles Coburn plays a police lieutenant with an intermittent, debatable Scottish accent whose mounting evidence convinces him that Walker is surely guilty of something. 

Walker's New England dialect works best when she is syrupy-sweet. It falters when she is angry. She is as devious and fraudulent as they come. She arranges her current male interest—call him “Fling Boy”—to pose as a family cousin and rendezvous with her husband. Fling Boy's cryptic conversation along a dark, dangerous and curvy mountain highway is awkward for Donlevy. Before a brief stop, the fake cousin had manufactured a slow leaking tire, later selecting the worst possible spot to fix a flat—on the narrow curve of a studio set. One passerby parks right in the middle of the road to offer aid. Surprising that this is not an accident-prone area. Fling Boy makes his move. Donlevy gets a concussion from a tire iron and rolls down the embankment.

Speaking of impact, Fling Boy escapes in a panic with Donlevy's Packard but he is pancaked by a gasoline semi, sending both cascading over a cliff. All done with obvious miniatures with resulting flames like those from a small gas fireplace. A Bekins moving van stops to put out the flames with a single extinguisher. Perfect for a toy semi. Conveniently, the moving van's rear loading doors had been open. Furniture and carpet hanging on for dear life. The film got no endorsements from Bekins. Donlevy climbs aboard to the next town. His phone call to his wife's relative reveals dear old cousin does not exist. Donlevy's subtle changes in facial expression are perfect. His six-year devotion to his wife has been foolishly wasted. It is a powerful scene as he emotionally breaks down in tears.

The headlines assume Donlevy is dead. But Walker cannot figure out why Fling Boy is not at their rendezvous point. Coburn uncovers her affair with Mr. Boy. Donlevy becomes a three-month resident of the small, rural town while Walker becomes a resident in a prison ward. Raines runs the town's service station and is taking a hammer to an engine amid Donlevy's grimaces. His impressive quick work as a mechanic gets Donley hired on the spot. In her second scene with Donlevy, she does her best Princess Leia with her hair twisted into stereo headphones. His decision to stay in tiny Larkspur, Wherever, may not make a great deal of logic, but he simply wants to disappear and his "death" made it easier. Raines is cast for a reason: to help transform his thinking and provide a happy ending. As their friendship grows, Raines convinces him to return to San Francisco and tell his story. It does not go as she expected.

After discovering who was burnt to a crisp in that Packard, husband and wife meet in the squad room as the music comes effectively to a crescendo during a close-up zoom of Walker's face. One can see the wheels turning in her warped mind as her facial expression changes from shock to loathing. Having developed into a liar, she accuses him of plotting to kill Fling Boy and then go into hiding with Raines. Right,  Donlevy convinced Fling Boy to deliberately crash into a semi. There is zero logic in killing the fake cousin as Donlevy knew nothing of the affair until he arrived in Larkspur. Walker's script of implausibilities is silly but no one noticed. Not even the director. Donlevy's convoluted story is no less hard to believe and he is arrested while Walker is released. Even knowing what the viewer already knows, the closing courtroom scenes still provide a few twists. Thankfully, Walker becomes a hypocritical idiot on the stand as she continues to bury herself with uncontrollable, outrageous denials. But it is her handwriting analysis that dooms her. Diverting blame, she plans to sue the Parker pen company, believing it was their fault all along.