MADONNA OF THE DESERT (1948)

This sixty-minute Republic Pictures release will go by harmlessly. Directed by George Blair of Republic's Western fame, the film is a modern tale of the West. Do not expect a riveting film. Screenwriter, Albert DeMond included a few clichés for those expecting them in a story that centers around a mobster and an ivory Madonna statue. Though inanimate objects do not possess any power, man-made creations have become symbols of hope for many. Such is the case for the lead character in the desert of Southern California. Rarely has ivory been so beneficial.

Sheldon “Nick” Leonard learns about a priceless statue from his inside man working as an antique swindler...er...dealer, who is also a master at creating exact replica statues. Leonard is pretty much the bookends of this film, hardly seen in the sentimental middle section. Speaking of clichés, it is pretty funny when Leonard calmly chastises his female operative, Lynne “Legs” Roberts, about the importance of doing a caper well. Standing over her, with quintessential gangster mannerisms he grabs his shirt sleeve cuffs with his forefinger and thumb under his suit coat and tugs on each sleeve as his shoulders rise up on every poignant word.

Don “Joe” Castle, half Rory Calhoun, half Robert Taylor, is the owner of a Renaissance Madonna statue that has been handed down for generations. He believes it has the power to protect anyone who believes in it. Indeed, the power to heal. It also brings good fortune, sort of like Buddha without the belly rubbing. Helping out on the plantation farm is Paul Hurst, a skeptical, experienced farmhand who quickly sizes up any visitor. He has some of the best lines in the film, usually with spot-on character assessments with humorous results.

Leonard makes the drive up in his Lincoln convertible in hopes of buying the Madonna. Apparently, with no one home, he discovers an unlocked door so he decides to make off with the statue. Castle and Hurst return to find Leonard standing in the back doorway. The shifty mobster instantly becomes an interested “art collector” who is checking its sparkingly jewels in the daylight. Hurst does not believe that one, either. Leonard admires Castle’s faith in the statue. Hurst acerbically fires back at Leonard, 'Joe has the faith. I have a club!' Accepting that the statue is not for sale, Leonard graciously leaves. Castle tells his farm hand he seems like a nice guy. Hurst responds, 'Eh, that guy could give lessons to an eel.'

If the statue cannot be bought, then Leonard is not above stealing it. After meeting mild-mannered Castle, he thinks it should be an easy operation for Roberts, whose assignment will be to befriend Castle and exchange the real statue with a fake one. Leonard tells her that he is one of those 'corny golden rule guys' who probably have never met a real woman in his life. She arrives at the farm on foot after prearranged car trouble, dressed down compared to her first scene. If she is not successful, Leonard will not let her 'play in his yard anymore.' Which is a lot more menacing than it reads, verbally coming from him.

The Madonna has been loaned to an Italian wedding couple for good luck. Castle takes Roberts there to see the statue and for him to honor the family. When she attempts to make the switch, the candles surrounding the altar to the Madonna catch her sleeve on fire. Despite her screams, she shows no after-effects of being even slightly burned. Those in attendance thank Madonna. Roberts thanks her flame-retardant dress. Yet she wonders about that statue. Castle astutely notices a conflict in Roberts’ behavior after her burn notice. She is, in fact, having second thoughts about stealing the statue. In a bit of misguided script logic, Castle tells her, 'Only good people have conflicts. The bad ones aren’t bothered by anything.' He tells her not to worry, he has a dress back at the farmhouse. Never mind your Twenty-First Century thinking. It was his mother’s dress. So it gets worse for Roberts.

Donald Barry, a recent ex-con who used to work for Leonard, also finds out about the statue. He figures Leonard is responsible for his five-year vacation at San Quentin. Stealing the statue under his nose would be sweet revenge. After a brief script disappearance, he returns as the newly hired hand on Castle’s farm. Roberts, wanting to continue playing in Leonard’s yard, digs a hole in Castle’s yard in about seven seconds—with her bare hands—and buries the Madonna. There is no dirt under her nails. Another miracle. The switch is made and once inside the house, Barry absconds with the fake. As script luck would have it, Leonard passes him on the road and then forces Barry to stop, demanding the statue. Leonard recognizes the fake, then the Madonna “flies” toward Barry’s head, knocking him down an embankment. Not finding the car keys that Leonard threw over the cliff, Barry grabs his gun and walks back to the farm. It is dark by the time he arrives to witness a fight between Castle and Leonard's stunt doubles. Barry wounds Leonard, then shoots him twice, 'where it hurts.' Amazingly, Leonard gets off one final shot in retaliation. For all its protective powers, Madonna did not help Leonard or Barry. Help thou my unbelief.

Note: Castle mentions returning from the war as a cripple with mental turmoil. He chose to believe the statue healed him. The cross that Christ died on was simply a wooden device of punishment and death. It has no power in and of itself despite what Hollywood and Bram Stoker would want you to believe. Likewise, in the 1953 movie, “The Robe,” it was Caligula, among many others, who thought Jesus’ robe explained the miracles he performed. But human logic habitually wants to overrule simple truths.

OPEN SECRET (1948)

There is a strong film noir atmosphere established in this film even before the opening credits roll. The cryptic dialogue among a masquerading band of patriotic poker players is both intriguing and confusing. Some great camera work by George Robinson in this opening scene. Among them is second-tier actor, King Donovan, in his first movie role. The viewer is probably hooked at this point. This is another film of the era about antisemitism coming after World War II and it has its place. Distributed by Eagle-Lion Films for Marathon Pictures, the entire cast accounts for themselves quite well. Inevitably compared to other major studios' expensively produced antisemitic films, this portrays hate from within a low-income, less-educated crowd. There is not much to fault during its sixty-seven minutes with John Ireland about to hit Hollywood star status for his role in Red River the same year.

Newlyweds Ireland and Jane Randolph, acting on an invitation, travel for a stay with Ireland's World War II buddy, now working as a photographer. But he cannot be found. His apartment has been ransacked—a frequent occurrence—but Ireland suspects something more sinister than mere robbery. Anne O’Neal stands out as the busy-body, yet gracious, landlady of Ireland's friend. The actress who may be the most frequently misidentified as Margaret Hamilton of Wicked Witch fame. While Ireland goes off in search of his buddy, he asks if he would have dinner with his wife to keep her company. O’Neal says that is awfully nice but she is on a diet. Apparently, she only eats once a week.

After shooting a few rolls of film, Ireland gets them developed and printed. He is unaware there is an extra film role included by Randolph. Frames were taken by his buddy with incriminating evidence of an antisemitic murder. George Tyne has a pivotal role as a Jewish camera shop owner who is regularly harassed. The thugs want that film and track down Ireland’s buddy to get it. The couple soon realizes the problem as they encounter uneducated, myopic thinkers. Randolph does not understand how people can behave this way. Ireland tries to explain in a foretelling bit of scriptwriting about Twenty-First Century liberals. 'I guess some people can't live without hating. The only way they can feel superior. Some people hate because they're stupid. Some hate because they're told to.'

Though initially skeptical of Ireland's theory, Sheldon Leonard agrees to look into finding the missing buddy. Leonard is one laid-back detective, totally in control and unflappable. Also a guy with empathy for local delinquents. It would have been fun to have him reprise his role in a film series based around his character, though he was more often associated with the opposite side of the law given his trademarked gangster vocal delivery. One thing is for sure, Leonard is a great marksman. He casually nails a fleeing bigot more than once while he is escaping down an alley. All at a sizable distance leaning out Ireland’s apartment window. The cinematography stands out again during a cemetery gravesite scene for Ireland's buddy, killed for getting too close to the opinionated. All the standing attendees are in dark silhouettes against a contrasting light sky, giving off an eerie vibe.

Ireland infiltrates the bigotry boys club led by the sometimes lovable, but not here, Arthur O'Connell. Ireland's identity is soon discovered and a closing fistfight in near-total darkness. With the film’s budget on the producer’s mind, that darkness may have hidden the need for any re-shooting. The ending has a confident Leonard walking the urban neighborhood at night knowing they are safer than when the film began.

Note: Herschel Burke Gilbert was a monumental force in early television music scores. He was the first to provide an original score for a television series, the popular western, “The Rifleman,” where lead characters had their own cues for funny, sad, or dangerous scenes. This soundtrack was reworked in 1952 into a library of music cues for several shows of the era, the most obvious may be, “The Adventures of Superman.”

THE GANGSTER (1947)

This eighty-four-minute film was directed by Gordon Wiles with production handled by King Brothers Production (Frank and Maurice). It is from a screenplay by Daniel Fuchs and Dalton Trumbo. Distributed by Allied Artists Pictures, it is one of the most stylish noir films thanks to Paul Ivano's cinematography. Just one of the many standouts in this classic film. The limited-budget film might remind you of a Playhouse 90 with a singular gigantic set.

The title role of Shubunka (an original name if there ever was one) is played by Barry Sullivan in his breakout leading role. He is excellent as a small-time numbers racketeer who arrogantly thinks he is unstoppable. His front for the racket is an ice cream shop owned by his partner, Akim Tamiroff. In hock up to his eyeballs is John Ireland, who frequents the shop pleading with Tamiroff to give him an advance. He eventually comes to blows (literally) with Tamiroff. Ireland’s wife is played by Virginia Christine who is always pleading with him to come home for the mountain-grown coffee she just percolated.

Sullivan’s infatuation with a nightclub singer, played by Belita (the real-life ballerina and ice skater) takes a toll on his finances, buying her everything. Unknown to Sullivan, a rival, Sheldon Leonard, is planning to muscle him out of business. But Sullivan refuses to believe what a frightened Tamiroff tells him. Or that Belita is in on the takeover.

Sullivan’s riveting, rapid monologue in the last half is memorable. Truly 'told with bullet force' as the poster suggests. The low camera angle pointed toward the checkerboard ceiling makes him appear bigger than he is. It is a reality check for the viewer. Angrily he comes down on the shop cashier, Joan Lorring, in an effort to justify his lifestyle to all beneath him. Viewers soon realize that this cynical character is rather insecure and all his “accomplishments” are the result of tough talk and limited resources with no lasting impact.

Notes: Perhaps strange how many European figure skaters were groomed as actresses in the first half of the twentieth century. By far the most successful was Sonja Henie, but there was Vera Ralston, and here, Belita. They apparently had Foreign appeal on ice that Hollywood moguls wanted. Tamiroff's soda jerk, Harry Morgan, offers the only light moments in the film as a man of the world who wants anyone within earshot to know how he treats a real lady. An expert on the subject with little evidence as proof.