MEET JOHN DOE (1941)

 

A newspaper columnist, about to lose her job, comes up with a unique idea to get the attention of her readers and impress her employers. She writes a bogus letter from a non-existent man she calls John Doe. This man is so distraught with the inhumanity of modern life that he plans to kill himself by jumping off the city building on Christmas Eve. The public believes the story and newspaper sales skyrocket. The columnist not only keeps her job, but she and her employers, seeing big money possibilities, take the phenomenon one step further. They hire a homeless man, whose real name happens to be John Willoughby, a former baseball player, to portray the fictional John Doe for the public. He gives speeches written for him by the columnist. He becomes so beloved by the millions of people who believes he is "real" that a nationwide movement, based on "his" words, gets underway. The publisher of the newspaper, who has political ambitions, decides to use John Doe to form a new political party in order for him to gain power.

Does this scenario sound like a cautionary tale against modern-day AI? The ultimate fake news being passed off as truth? Frank Capra's brilliant, prescient and disturbing 1941 classic film is all that and much more. It's also a prime example of the fast-moving newspaper drama so popular in the Golden Age of motion pictures. And it can even be at least partly considered a woman's picture because of the powerful presence of Barbara Stanwyck's character, Anne Mitchell. This is also a Frank Capra populist statement, a picture focusing on the common man and woman of the time, a story about real Americans and what they were experiencing and feeling. But most importantly, it is also a realistic look at how easily people can be manipulated by the media.

This third film that was shown in my Barbara Stanwyck film class is one I've seen before, and it's one of those films that gets better with subsequent viewings. Capra's movies are so fast paced, so dialogue driven and so filled with supporting and minor characters that it's easy to be overwhelmed by too many faces and too much talking. The film is also loaded with star power, headed by the always watchable Gary Cooper as the title character. While Cooper may appear a little too healthy and physically fit to be a hobo living under a bridge, he brings so much warmth and humanity to his portrayal that the audience is on his side form his first scene. He is perfectly matched by the energetic, almost breathless Stanwyck. Also on hand is the eternal scene stealer, Walter Brennan as John's skeptical fellow hobo and best friend, who is the film's consistent voice of reason concerning the corruption of power, fame and money. Edward Arnold is effective as the power-hungry newspaper publisher, and the ever-dependable James Gleason is perfect as the hard-nosed newspaper editor with a conscience, a trait that is lacking in many of his peers, including his publisher.

As the story progresses, John begins to feel conflicted by the image he is being paid to portray and its influences on the masses. While initially he was happy just to finally have a warm, safe place to sleep and good food to eat, he starts to feel a certain responsibility to the folks who listen to him and take "his" words to heart. He is also falling in love with Anne, who begins to return his feelings. For Anne's part, she is the sole support for her mother and sister and is happy to have found both success and a steady income, factors that bring her very close to selling out for money and abandoning her principles.

Without giving away too many details that would spoil the experience for first-time viewers, let me just say that the film isn't without its flaws. While there are many effective and moving sequences, the film comes to a somewhat convoluted conclusion. Capra and his screenwriter, Robert Riskin, had problems deciding exactly how the story should end, which I can believe. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure of watching a movie that has long been considered a classic from the Golden Age.

Notes From the Movie Room September 27, 2025

 

🎬 Three very interesting things happened in my life recently. First, I received a box from Comcast/Xfinity, my longtime cable TV provider, filled with shiny new equipment which is meant to replace the old equipment scheduled to become obsolete on October 31. Secondly, I decided on the spur of the moment to buy a new 43" TV at my local Wal-Mart. That was yesterday. And thirdly, as of today, I am seriously considering abandoning cable altogether and just using television to indulge my addiction to movies on DVD and Blu-ray. Now, I must be honest and say this isn't just an intellectual decision reflecting some kind of sudden spiritual insight. It also has to do with my aversion to technology and the chaos that it inevitably brings to one's life. Without going into boring details, hooking up and setting up machinery just isn't my favorite way to spend an afternoon. Especially when all the effort ends up with nothing working. Questions like: "What the f**k do I need this for?" start coming to mind.

This is how my peaceful living room looked until a few days ago when I decided I had to turn it into something resembling an episode of Hoarders.

Having come into this world in 1951, I was part of the first generation of television addicts. It was a normal, enjoyable part of daily life, one that we all took for granted. I loved that TV culture of the 1950s and 60s. In our house, it was all in Black & White, at least until 1968 when my father decided to take that big leap into color. By that time, I was seventeen, and my TV addiction was about to undergo radical therapy. When I entered into the working world, I had to work nights, meaning those relaxing evenings staring at the tube had mostly come to an end. As my working years went on, I preferred that night shift way of life for a lot of reasons, so I was no longer able to mainline that prime-time video drug like I did while growing up. The spell was broken. During part of the 1970s, I didn't even have a TV and managed quite well without it. Then came the home video era of the 1980s, and I was back in the groove, at least somewhat. I had one of those cable package deals with way-too-many channels for a while, and I did my share of recording on VHS, mostly movies and baseball games. But for the last thirty years, I've been surviving with basic cable, which I felt was necessary in order to be connected to the community. Still no prime time programs, however. Now that I'm retired and finally get to be home in the evening, I never even think about watching what's playing on TV. I usually watch one or two movies from my collection, but sometimes I just listen to music or sit quietly and read. My second-floor movie room has been a marvelous retreat all these years, but lately I've been thinking about replacing my sturdy old Sony Trinitron in the living room with a modern flatscreen and maybe having a place to watch movies with friends. Hence, all the ensuing chaos. Be careful what you wish for. And stay the hell away from Wal-Mart.

So, perhaps it's time to finally cut that cord and save the money I've been giving to Comcast all of these years for very little use. I can use that extra cash to buy more Blu-rays! Local news is available online and in our city newspaper. Yes, that's right. We still have a daily newspaper where I live. It's not doing very well these days, but at least it's hanging on. 

In the meantime, I may be packing up all of my Comcast boxes and returning them to our local store. We'll see how it goes. New insights could occur at any moment.

 

STELLA DALLAS (1937)

 

This is one classic 1930's movie that I've somehow managed to miss all these years. So, I was happy to finally get a chance to see it during the second week of my Barbara Stanwyck film class. All I knew about the film was that it was Miss Stanwyck's first of several Oscar nominations for Best Actress, although she never actually won the award. 

Our instructor informed us that the hard-working Stanwyck had completed fourteen films between BABY FACE and STELLA DALLAS, her stature and popularity increasing as time went on. In watching her performance in this film, one gets the impression that it was a labor of love for the actress. It's hard to believe that the producer, Samuel Goldwyn, initially didn't want her for the role. His first choice was Miriam Hopkins. As talented as Hopkins was, I can't see her bringing Stella to life as well as Stanwyck. The story, based on the novel by Olive Prouty, had been filmed previously in 1925, with Belle Bennett playing the title role. It was filmed again in 1990 as STELLA, with Bette Midler. The 1937 version was directed by King Vidor.

The story has Stella Martin living with her working-class family and dreaming of improving her circumstances. She sets her sights on businessman Stephen Dallas (John Boles), the owner of the mill where Stella's father and brother both work. The two have a brief courtship and get married. A year later, their daughter, Laurel (Anne Shirley), is born. Stella loves being a mother, but her marriage begins to suffer because she is unable to overcome her working-class status. As the story goes on, Stella is faced with a heartbreaking decision to sacrifice her own happiness for her daughter's future.

I don't want to give away any spoilers to anyone who hasn't yet seen the film. This is a perfect example of what used to be called a "woman's picture", as well as the more derogative term, a "weepie". Indeed, you might want to keep a box of Kleenexes nearby when you get to the very emotional ending. 

As much as I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and Stanwyck's performance, I sometimes found her acting a little overstated. It also seemed slightly implausible that Stella, having found a high-class husband and an opportunity to escape her origins, appeared to make little attempt to actually improve herself. What did ring true was the cruelty of many of the people she encountered in her husband's circle, people who mocked her for her imperfect manners and style of dress. As Stella's grown daughter, Anne Shirley hits the right mark as a girl who adores her mother and hates to see her being ridiculed. Miss Shirley was nominated for Best Supporting Actress of 1937 but didn't win. 

It was good to finally see this old classic, and I plan to get a Blu-ray copy, which also features the 1925 silent version.

Barbara Stanwyck and John Boles

 

BIG SCREEN THRILL: THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (1925)

 

I admit to spending less and less time going out to see movies, but if anything can inspire me to venture forth into a theater, it's a revival of an old classic, and that's what happened last night. THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, starring the legendary Lon Chaney, was playing for one night at the beautiful Virginia Theater in Champaign, Illinois, and I wasn't about to miss out on seeing it on a big screen. 

The Virginia is a movie palace that was built in 1921, with a wide screen and a stage that was used for vaudeville shows. It closed several years ago as a first-run theater and was eventually taken over by the Champaign Park district and lovingly restored to its former glory. It's used for a variety of live performances, the annual Roger Ebert Film Festival, and for periodic film showings throughout the year. Many of the films are sponsored by our local newspaper, The News-Gazette.

One of the nice features of the Virginia is the built-in Wurlitzer organ that has also been kept in repair all these many years and provided marvelous accompaniment for this silent classic. The imagery of the film was excellent. It's been may years since I saw the film, and there were so many things I didn't remember about it. So, it was kind of like seeing it for the first time. The crowd was fairly large, and, I must say, well-behaved. I saw only a few cell phones lighting up on occasion and there was respectful attention given to the screen. After the movie ended, the organist received a standing ovation. I chose a seat in the back row and had a perfect view of the film. All in all, it was a cinephile's delight, and I'm so glad I went.

My DVD of the film is a 2-disc package from Image Entertainment that I picked up at a video store that was going out of business quite a number of years ago. It has two versions of the film and many other extra features. It plays beautifully, so I don't feel compelled to replace it. But who knows; that double-dip fever may one day overtake me.

BABY FACE (1933)

 

This week, I started another non-credit film course at the Osher Lifelong Living Institute (OLLI) at the University of Illinois here in Champaign. The course is being taught by film scholar and critic Chuck Koplinski, who has taught most of the classes I've taken. This time, Chuck's class is called: Barbara Stanwyck: Actress, Icon. For eight weeks we will be viewing films starring this legendary lady of the screen.

The first film we watched was the pre-code classic BABY FACE (1933), directed by Alfred E. Green. I actually saw this film in another one of Chuck's film classes several years ago and I also have a DVD copy. Even though I'm familiar with the movie, it was a pleasure to see it again in a classroom setting.

Stanwyck plays a young woman named Lily Powers, who works in her father's speakeasy in Erie, Pennsylvania during Prohibition. Since the age of fourteen, Lily's father has been selling her as a prostitute to his customers. One of those customers, a prominent politician, threatens to close down the business when Lily refuses his sexual advances. Before that can happen, the business burns down, and her father is killed. Not having any other prospects, Lily is prepared to accept a job as a stripper in a burlesque house. An older man whom Lily trusts advises her to use her sexual power over men to get the things she wants instead of allowing herself to be a victim. Lily takes his advice and leaves for New York with her best friend, Chico (Theresa Harris), who also worked at the speakeasy.

Theresa Harris and Barbara Stanwyck

Using her newly acquired seduction skills, a determined Lily manages to get hired as a file clerk at Gotham Trust, a prestigious bank in Manhattan. From that modest beginning, she literally sleeps her way to the top floor of the company, man by man, until she is living in high style as a kept woman by one of the banks' executives, with Chico as her maid. When a former suitor is inflamed with jealousy, he comes to their opulent apartment to shoot the executive and then kill himself. Mired in scandal, Lily attempts to come out ahead by threatening to sell her diary to a magazine unless Gotham Trust pays her $15,000 to keep quiet. But the new bank president, Courtland Trenholm (George Brent), refuses to go along with the idea and sends Lily to Paris to work at the bank's branch there, avoiding further scandal.

George Brent and Barbara Stanwyck

When Courtland comes to Paris after a few years, he and Lily fall in love and begin a romance. After they marry, they have to return to New York, as the bank is failing. The board members blame Courtland for the failure, and he must raise money for his legal defense. He asks his wife to give back all the bonds, etc., he has given her, but she refuses to give up the security she's worked for all her life. She and Chico prepare to leave on a ship going to Paris. But she changes her mind and goes back to Courtland, only to find that he's shot himself. She rides with him in the ambulance, along with her money, bonds and jewelry, all of which she intends to trade for true love.

If this story sounds outrageous and somewhat cartoonish, you must remember this was 1933, and wicked women were big box office. In fact, they had been ever since Theda Bara started destroying men in 1915. What makes this movie work is Stanwyck herself, who gives a controlled, convincing performance as Lily Powers, the ultimate sexual politician. Another less talented actress might have portrayed Lily as a Mae West type, or as Jean Harlow played a similar character in REDHEADED WOMAN at MGM in 1932. In fact, BABY FACE was Warner Brothers' answer to the successful MGM picture. 

With its themes of sexual immorality and prostitution, BABY FACE received quite a bit of condemnation and is considered to be the reason why the Hollywood Production Code was finally turned into a powerful force. After the film was released, Warner Brothers decided to make several changes and re-release a censored version which was approved by the Production Code. The original version was considered lost until a copy was found in a Library of Congress film vault in Dayton, Ohio. That version is now available to be seen.

Lily confronts her father, played by Robert Barrat

Baby Face shows off her seductive style to one of her victims.

Barbara Stanwyck and Theresa Harris looking glamorous.

Some interesting faces turn up in the picture. A young John Wayne, taking a break from his low-budget cowboy flicks, puts on a suit to play a bank employee and one of Lily's many anxious suitors. And uncredited Edward Van Sloan, known for his role as Van Helsing in Universal's DRACULA (1931) and other horrors, brings his recognizable voice to the movie as one of the banks officers. It's especially wonderful seeing beautiful Theresa Harris in a significant role. Like all African-American actors and actresses in the Hollywood of the era, she was given very few opportunities to play anything but servants, but she's given a good showcase here. And look fast for gorgeous blonde Toby Wing from FORTY-SECOND STREET (1933) as an office girl.

Next week, we're going to watch STELLA DALLAS (1937), which garnered Stanwyck her first Oscar nomination for Best Actress. It's a film I haven't seen, so I'm looking forward to it.

Barbara Stanwyck tangles with John Wayne

THE DARK SECRET OF HARVEST HOME (1978)

 

Directed by Leo Penn. Based on the 1973 novel Harvest Home by Thomas Tryon. Originally produced at Univeral as a miniseries for NBC, airing on January 23-24, 1978 at 228 minutes. Later rebroadcast at 3 hours 48 minutes and 3 hours. Also released on DVD at 2 hours.

Starring: Bette Davis, David Akroyd, Joanna Miles, Rosanna Arquette, Rene Auberjonois, John Calvin, Laurie Prange and Norman Lloyd.

When most of us think of Folk Horror, films like THE WICKER MAN (1973) and MIDSOMMAR (2019) usually come to mind. This 1978 TV miniseries shares similar story points with those two feature films: pagan fertility rites, matriarchy, and cultish/spiritual fanaticism.  I never saw the complete TV version, but only the two-hour DVD release that I seem to remember picking up at a flea market years ago. So, I can't speak to the possible richness and effectiveness of the complete version. The DVD version is indeed effective and atmospheric as presented, but the story does have a few loose ends that may have been followed through more thoroughly in the miniseries.

Without giving too much away for those who haven't seen the movie or the miniseries, here is the basic plot. A married couple from New York City, Nick and Beth Constatine (Akroyd and Miles), and their teenage daughter, Kate (Arquette), happen to come across a town in Connecticut named Cornwall Coombe. The family stops to walk around the picturesque village, finding themselves surprised and charmed by the old-fashioned customs and farming techniques. They decide to buy a house from the town matriarch, Widow Fortune (Davis) and start a new life in the village, trying to learn what they are told are "the ways", the age-old practices of the villagers. Beth and Kate grow accustomed to their new surroundings with enthusiasm. But Nick grows increasingly uneasy and questions many things that he sees and hears. He soon learns that asking too many questions is a bad idea. Nonetheless, all of his questions are answered at the village festival known as Harvest Home.

Joanna Miles and David Akroyd

With the prevailing restraints and standards governing television production at the time, there is very little actual violence, although some scenes, especially at the climax, push as far toward the edge as possible. There is a strong, slowly building erotic element to the story, which isn't at all graphic, certainly not by today's standards. Nick Constantine functions as not only an outsider attempting to navigate a world he doesn't understand, but as a detective trying to solve a mystery. He has much in common with Edward Woodward's character in THE WICKER MAN, but without the religious convictions. In the place of Christopher Lee's Lord Summerisle, we have Miss Davis's regal, implacable Widow Fortune. 

By this stage in her career, Bette Davis had become firmly established as an icon from Hollywood's Golden Age, a living legend. Feature film roles were infrequent, so she worked mostly on television. Her name brought prestige to any project she was involved with. As Widow Fortune, she is dressed all in black, a look that can suggest witchcraft as much as mourning, especially considering her association with the horror genre. Miss Davis is her usual powerful, dominant presence, although she is given many lighter, softer moments as well. She gives what I would call her standard Bette Davis latter-day performance, with all of her lines enunciated perfectly in a regal cadence that at times sounds more like recitation than acting. But that doesn't matter. Anyone who loves Miss Davis as much as I do will not be disappointed with her presence here. And anyone who enjoys slow-burn horror films won't be disappointed either.  The top acting honors, in my opinion, go to Rene Auberjonois in the supporting role of Jack Stump, a quirky villager who is called upon to suffer and emote much more than the actor did in all seven years of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and to Akroyd, who has more screen time than any other character. He is at once subtle and intense, making you believe his mounting sense of terror.

THE DELIGHTFULLY UBIQUITOUS BESS FLOWERS

 

If you are a fan of old movies from the 1920s to the 1960s, then this lovely face must be familiar to you. This elegant lady is Bess Flowers (1898-1985), and she has over one thousand film and television credits dating all the way back to 1923. Most of her appearances were uncredited and brief, in crowd scenes, party scenes, etc. Occasionally, she played a character in a film, such as her role as a secretary in DOUBLE INDEMNITY. And she sometimes even spoke a line or two in a film, as in ALL ABOUT EVE, where she approaches award winner Eve Harrington (Ann Baxter) with the words, "I'm so happy for you, Eve." Now do you recognize her? 

Miss Flowers gained the title of Queen of the Hollywood Extras, or more specifically, dress extras, who were seen wearing fashionable clothes, usually their own, in thousands of party scenes and crowd scenes in movies. She holds the record for appearing in the most films nominated for Best Picture, twenty-three, including these five winners: IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT (1934), YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU (1938), ALL ABOUT EVE (1950), THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH (1952) and AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS (1956). Her last feature film appearance was in GOOD NEIGHBOR SAM (1964.)

I never knew anything about her until I read the excellent book ALL ABOUT ALL ABOUT EVE by Sam Staggs. Mr. Staggs did painstaking research for his book, covering every possible detail concerning the film as well as every name connected with it. He said of her: "For her brief role in ALL ABOUT EVE, credit is due but none is given. You find her name not on the screen but rather in scholarly lists compiled by passionate cinephiles." After I became aware of who Bess Flowers was, I found myself spotting her face in dozens of films, many that I'd seen before (IMITATION OF LIFE (1959), A STAR IS BORN (1954), etc.) and I continue to spot her today. For example, she showed up in two films I reviewed in my previous blogpost about my Kino-Lorber update: NO MAN OF HER OWN and THE SCARLET HOUR. I think of these pleasant surprises as Bess Flowers Sightings, just one more enjoyable aspect of exploring old movies.

Miss Flowers in DOUBLE INDEMNITY with Barbara Stanwyck in the background.

With Vivian Vance and Lucille Ball on TV.

In SONG OF THE THIN MAN (1947)