Last night's motion picture was "Twisted Rails"(1934), a train movie/crime thriller with a wafer-thin plot but more action than you can shake a stick at. In the opening scene, a gang of gold thieves is hiding in the bushes (Stay! Out! Da Bushes!), waiting to blow up a) the railroad tracks, or b) the bridge, depending on which route the train is gonna take. They have a guy back at the depot who's tipping them off by Morse code. They end up blowing the bridge to smithereens, and stealing a gold bullion shipment from the train, which has fallen into the gulch below. There's been a spate of these train wrecks and gold robberies, and the manager of the depot is gonna be fired if he can't catch whoever's responsible. So, he hires a passenger from the latest wreck to work as a private detective.
The guy's name is "Louie Weinstock" (Donald Keith), and while he's a tough cookie, he's in way over his head trying to stop the gang, so the company president puts his son on the case, in the guise of a railroad policeman. He discovers the identity of the gang leader, but they kidnap his girlfriend and hold her hostage, threatening her life if he tries to interfere with their next train wreck, which promises to net them their biggest haul of bullion to date.
More time is spent with punchouts than in any Western we've seen recently, and there are car chases down 1934 mountain roads (that have brand new curbs), and fistfights on top of moving boxcars, but the best scene of all - more than worth watching the movie for - is an extended foot chase through what used to be called a roundhouse, a parking garage for locomotive engines, and this is amazing because it was the building in place, in Downtown Los Angeles, before Union Station was built. It's amazing to see all these old train engines in what looks like such an ancient site, but - again - it was still in existence just 26 years before I was born. As an aside, I have an early memory of seeing the Super Chief arrive at Union Station when I was about four or five, to take one of my sister's friends to Chicago.
Anyhow, this is one short movie that could've used an extension, just to fill out the plot. Everything moves at breakneck speed, including the numerous brawls that seem to involve the entire cast. The girlfriend is abducted kicking and screaming over and over again. The story is difficult to follow but if you want action you've got it: 47 minutes worth, the length of the entire film. Just watch with no expectations and you'll have a blast (kaboom! when they blow up the bridge) looking at old Los Angeles and finding out where choo-choo go. Two Big Thumbs up for "Twisted Rails." The picture is soft but watchable. ////
The previous night we watched our first film with the legendary Hoot Gibson, one of the biggest cowboy stars of the Silent era. His success continued into Talkies, so how come we've never seen Hoot before? In part, I guess it's because I associated him with Silents, but more than that (because we like Silent film and have enjoyed William S. Hart's movies), I think it was because I saw still photographs of Hoot and just didn't think of him as the Western Star type. He's not particularly glamorous, doesn't present a gunslinger image, and he's not tall like Tom Tyler nor short like Bob Steele. He's just kind of average looking in every way, but he must've had something going for him to become so doggone famous. My guess? I think it was his personality, which is on display in this movie, "The Fighting Parson"(1933). He has a perpetual look on his face like he's in on a joke we aren't aware of. There's a comic element to his good-natured persona that is present even when he isn't trying to be funny. I don't think he pulled a gun once in the entire film, though he was posing as a parson. Allow me to backtrack: as the movie opens, he and "Arizona" (Skeeter Bill Robbins), his beanpole sidekick, are cleaning up at a dice game with their fellow ranch hands, only to be kicked out of the game and threatened when the other men discover that Arizona's dice are loaded. The choice is leave or die ("you know what happens to dice cheats in these parts"!), so they ride off, and head for a town called Red Dog.
Well, of course if you know the history of the 8mm films I made with my friends, you can guess I was hoping there'd be a Red Dog Tavern in the movie. There IS a saloon, so we'll just substitute it for the Tavern, but the townsfolk in Red Dog, who we meet before Hoot and Arizona get there, have had enough of gambling, drinking and crime. They've put up posters, announcing the coming of a revival preacher named "Reverend Doolittle" (Robert Frazer), who, by the very power of God (and his charisma), will clean up the town good and proper, and rid it of schemers like "Bart McCade" (Stanley Blystone), who's about to be hung.
While Hoot and 'Zona are riding to Red Dog, two things happen. One is that the town boss has met with Charles King (young and thin here) to ensure that Parson Doolittle never arrives. King ambushes him, scares him away and steals his clothes, leaving Rev. Doolittle in his skivvies in da bushes (Stay! Out! Da Bushes!) He doesn't kill him because it's not that kind of movie and it's a Charles King Moment; when he's onscreen, he's the boss. For some reason, King doesn't keep the stolen clothes, and that leads to the second thing that happens. Hoot and Arizona find them laying in the dirt on their way to Red Dog, and Hoot keeps the top hat and tails while Arizona takes the pants, and when they get to town, the church ladies think they are Reverend Doolittle and his deacon. It's the old Mis-schtooken Identity ploy (said with a twirl of your handlebar moustache).
Having nothing better to do, Hoot plays along with everyone thinking he's a parson. But then he's got to actually perform the job - there's a baby to baptise and he doesn't have the slightest idea what to do. In church, young "Susan Larkin" (Marceline Day) takes a liking to him. She's the sweet daughter of town honcho "Ben Larkin" (Phil Dunham), but Hoot must tread carefully because Bart McCade, the guy who is gonna be hung, knows who he really is: an itinerant, dice-cheating cowpoke. McCade blackmails him to escape the noose, and from there, Hoot must walk a fine line, between going straight as the Parson, and teaming up with McCade and Charles King to pull off an upcoming a payroll robbery. Meanwhile, the real Reverend Doolittle is making his way through the desert in his underwear. It's only a matter of time till he reaches town and the im-Parson-ation gig is up (oh man that's a riot!). What I liked most about Hoot Gibson is the nonchalant way he approaches the role of Cowboy Hero. He has a "who, me?" thing happening that worked well with the semi-comic material in the film. How well he'd go down as a gunslinger, I'm not sure. But I give "The Fighting Parson" Two Big Thumbs Up, and we'll look for more from the Hootster. The picture is razor sharp. ////
And that's all I know for tonight. Earlier today I was listening to a long lost classic from 1977, "Twilley Don't Mind" by The Dwight Twilley Band. If you know me on FB, you may have seen my post of the title song this afternoon. The Dwight Twilley Band was really just two guys, Twilley and Phil Seymour, based in Tulsa, Oklahoma, who had an ear for great pop hooks and classic guitar tones, and when this record came out, all the critics loved it and it looked like Dwight Twilley was gonna be a star. What happened instead was that Tom Petty, whose debut album came out around the same time on the same label, got the big push, and Twilley was left in the dust wondering what the hell happened. If I'm not mistaken, Phil Seymour, Twilley's drummer and co-writer, had a couple of minor hits as a solo artist in the early 80s. Then he got sick and died at only 41 in 1993, poor guy. Dwight Twilley has apparently soldiered on independently for all this time. He's 71 now. Boy, with his looks and those songs, and that guitar sound, he should've been big, just like Petty. I always thought it was cool to reference yourself in the Third Person like he did with his album title. Anyway, the bottom line is that it still holds up, 45 years later. Give it a spin for Twilley.
My blogging music was "Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)" by Captain Beefheart (I went as far as I could with Amon Duul), and I must say, it's very good, though much slicker than the Captain's usual output. It's got all the requisite weirdness, but with an AOR production sound. Still good stuff, though. I also tried Henry Cow again, but so far I still can't do it. Late night listening is "Der Meistersinger" by Wagner, von Karajan conducting. I hope you are enjoying your weekend and I send you Tons of Love as always.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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