Archive for Clarence Muse

The Manipulator

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 17, 2020 by dcairns

A really good double feature — THE MIND READER and THE DARK HORSE.

The former has Warren William as mentalist, starting as a failed sideshow hustler and discovering the psychic gag as a way to hustle at a higher level. Very snazzy direction from Roy Del Ruth with a lot of Dutch tilts and some sweeping crane shots. William as maybe the worst scoundrel of his professional career, since his act actually ruins lives and kills people, and he reforms once then shamelessly backslides. Put it this way, he’s so bad, the movie can’t exonerate him at the end, and he has to go to prison.

Allen Jenkins’ last line is wonderfully bathetic: “Gee, boss, it seems a shame you’re going away just when beer’s coming back.”

Good little role for Clarence Muse: as always, he deserves more. Unrewarding sappy gf part for Constance Cummings, a brief sighting of the bewitching Ruthelma Stevens, wheeled on to glower accusingly before the elevator shaft beckons.

THE DARK HORSE (dir: Alfred E Green) is a key work in the Warner precode mission to FULLY DOCUMENT AMERICA: it’s about the biggest racket of them all, politics, and shows how a brainless candidate (Guy Kibbee in his apotheosis, above) gets more or less accidentally nominated and how the machine gets behind him to transform a rustic chump into something the electorate can be fooled into voting for. In charge of that transformation: Warren William, of course.

Arguably there’s too much about WW’s love life, which is of course amusing but not 100% central to the political issues. Actually, issues are not discussed (the candidate has no platform), but the one big issue — the failure of American politics to produce worthy politicians, the packaging, instead, of chumps — kind of fades in the second half. Bette Davis is the romantic interest but she must have had an envious eye on the bad girl part, which Vivienne Osborne triumphs in. I don’t know why she wasn’t bigger.

No Jenkins in this one, but it has Frank McHugh so that’s fine: the schmoe quotient is filled.

Asides from WW, the hidden connection seems to be screenwriter Wilson Mizner, who was working himself to death at Warners from 32-33. His name is wonderfully seedy: I somehow picture him typing in fingerless gloves and a raincoat.

Oo-oo-oo-dunnit

Posted in FILM, literature with tags , , , , , , , on February 25, 2015 by dcairns

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THE SECRET WITNESS is a 1931 pre-code with Una Merkel as a crime-solving society dame (I know! Una Merkel?), Zasu Pitts as a hapless switchboard operator (I feel your eyebrows, raised to stratospheric astonishment by the previous bit of casting, burn up on re-entry as they hasten to resume their customary position on your face), and, most excitingly of all, a pistol-packing chimpanzee known only as “the monk.”

We open on a miniature skyscraper somewhere in a sound stage New York, its snowglobe dinkiness so perfect that it’s no surprise to find Clarence Muse as doorman. The movieness of this movie is well-established before a room has even been entered.

Funniest bit is Zasu describing the book she’s reading to her offscreen beau, Elmer, over the phone. “Oh, it’s a book about a… well.”

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When a well-heeled heel played by Hooper Atchley (that NAME!) gets plugged in the gut, a bevy os suspects is drawn into the web of the bumbling loudmouth police inspector played by Purnell Pratt (!), but it will be Merkel who uncovers the culprit. Among the mugs lining up to off Atchley are perennial yegg Nat Pendleton and his intellectual superior the aforementioned primate, a pet of the deceased who is discovered grieving over his slain master (about the only display of emotion in the film (Philip K Dick wrote a space whodunnit where one of the characters suddenly realizes the entire cast is composed of psychiatric patients, this explaining their terrifying lack of emotional response to the slaying — something that would never have struck the reader, who is inured to the calm way supposedly everyday characters in thrillers react to slaughter in their midst).

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Anyhow, later it turns out that “Monk” is more than capable of firing a pistol himself, so he takes his place among the possible assassins. Of course, Fiona and I were rooting for him to be proved innocent. And to get more closeups. We get endless footage of Merkel’s Play-Doh pan, while the versatile and emotive ape is relegated to a couple of reaction shots. I love Merkel’s sullen quack of a voice, but she’s no hairy ape.

The Muse

Posted in FILM with tags , , on June 10, 2013 by dcairns

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I promised to write something about Clarence Muse — a heroic figure — for The Chiseler a while ago, and I started it, and I got sidetracked, and then very busy, and Fiona got ill, and somehow it never got finished. And then I noticed how many unfinished things I had stacked up and realized I’d better start whittling them down. So I finally finished the Clarence Muse piece and Daniel Riccuito, in a show of supreme efficiency that shames me, got it online within 24hrs. It’s here.

You are invited to weigh in on your own favourite Muse moments below.