The Las Vegas Story (1952)

A newlywed couple (Vincent Price and Jane Russell) are traveling when husband Lloyd suggests they stop off in Las Vegas. Wife Linda balks at the idea, but hubby mysteriously insists. She used to sing in a Vegas nightclub and had a mysterious relationship with a mysterious serviceman. Lloyd gets a mysterious line of credit so that he can gamble all night while a mysterious new man takes a mysterious interest in our leading lady. It seems to have something to do with her mysterious diamond necklace.

The story is a murder mystery wrapped in a personal drama, told in cockamamie noir-esque dialog. RKO head Howard Hughes wanted to showcase both some gambling establishments he recently purchased and his leading lady, which the script must always remind the audience is otherworldly beautiful.

I never understood the fascination with Russell. Not unattractive, but she was only the best looking woman on screen when she was the only woman on screen. Contemporary reviews seem to agree, with the New York Times calling her “slightly grotesque to look upon”. That’s harsh. The film bombed.

The film features and is narrated by composer Hoagy Charmichael, who might have been another Crosby/Sinatra had he been prettier. I was curious how he got the nickname Hoagy. Turns out, his real first name is Hoagland, so there you go. Producer Howard Hughes (not Hugh Hefner) led a fascinating and tragic life. He was the prototype of the eccentric billionaire, becoming a shut-in during his last few years. Think Monty Burns. Also consider modern cult of personality billionaires who exhibit bizarre behavior and jump from industry to industry.

To be fair The Las Vegas Story isn't a bad mystery, if not a great one. Its Achilles heel is the nonsensical dialog desperately trying to impart heightened importance to every nuance, which it lacks in the final analysis. Compounding this is the complete lack of chemistry between Jane and ex-flame Lt. Andrews (Victor Mature). Their scenes, which should sizzle, just fall flat. AMRU 2.5.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

Showgirl Lorelei (Marilyn Monroe) is engaged to a millionaire dork and for reasons of the plot goes on an all-expense paid trip to France without him. Co-star Dorothy (Jane Russell) goes along as chaperone because if there is any hint of scandal, sugar-daddy’s daddy will forbid the marriage. Once embarked, Lorelei proceeds to look for another millionaire to milk. Hint, hint.

Arguably the film that made Monroe a superstar, it’s not exactly a story of women’s empowerment. Lorelei is an unabashed gold digger, obsessed with diamonds. Dorothy, meanwhile, just wants to ‘make love’, money be damned. Lorelei’s target is the ruddy and bloated Piggy Beekman (ruddy and bloated Charles Coburn). Piggy owns a diamond mine and likes to court the young ladies, once he gets away from his shrew of a wife.

Everything starts to unravel as the ship approaches Europe, but song, dance, and musical comedy magic solves everything. But let’s focus on a particular phrase that struck my attention: Make Love.

In modern parlance, making love directly means the physical act of sex. Not so in old movies, where it simply refers to the act of courtship. Dorothy makes reference to another character making love with her, but there is no inference to the modern sense. Just dinner, drinks, and dancing. This also tames down the line from The Inspector General (1949) where the Mayor famously exclaims: “... he even made love to my wife! How could I doubt that he was an Inspector General?”

So this begs the question, when did the filmmakers recognize the changing meaning, and could they have been using it to imply scandal with a wink and nod to a younger audience? Seriously asking.

Technically Russell is the star, but Monroe steals the show. If you remember a single song from the film, it’s hers. And you just can’t take your eyes off of her. The studio hired a coach to adjust the sexiness of the actresses' movements: tone Jane’s upward and Marilyn’s downward. They didn’t do enough because next to Marilyn, pretty Jane looked almost manly. Marilyn may have been the Blonde that Gentlemen Prefer, but she was paid $500 a week compared to Jane’s $150,000 total. So, who's the gold digger now?

The film’s message seems to be that it's fine for pretty women to play dumb and use rich men for their money. Of course I may be reading too much into this piece of fluff. Its 1953 and Howard Hawks was no feminist, after all. It was amusing enough with maybe a few too many songs. Not my kind of film but a worthwhile watch. AMRU 3.

The Outlaw (1943)

Sheriff Pat Garrett (Thomas Mitchell) learns that the infamous Doc Holliday (Walter Huston) is in town. Rather than being concerned, he's elated because the Doc is his bestus buddy ever. They have a grand reunion and Doc mentions that someone stole his favorite horse. Turns out that both horse and thief are also in town, and the man holding the reins is none other than Billy the Kid (Jack Buetel).

Well, Doc takes a liking to the kid and takes his side in a dispute with Pat. This puts Doc and Pat's friendship on the rocks and things get worse when the Kid kills a man (in self defense, of course). The drama thickens when the kid then takes a liking to Doc's best girl Rio (Jane Russell).

First off, ewww. Jane was barley twenty and Huston was pushing 60 when the film was made. Jane earned the part because director Howard Hughes needed a rack on display in the background during boring scenes. The mamarous cinematography was so blatant that censors held up the film's release for two years. When it finally came out it was a big tit. I mean hit. That's what I meant.

Now, a history lesson. Pat Garrett killed Billy the Kid. There is speculation about that event that plays out here. What doesn't compute is the presents of Doc Holliday. Doc was contemporaneous to Pat and the Kid, but in real life their story lines do not cross.

The principle subtext in this story is the love triangle between Doc, the Kid, and Rio. That's the triangle the audience is supposed to get. Further, it has been rumored that Hughes had a thing for both Russel and Buetel. The deeper subtext, however, is the love triangle between Doc, the Kid, and Pat. Pat totally played like a spurned lover. There are a couple "what the hell is going on here" moments. Now prepare yourself for an even more bizarre love triangle: Doc, Kid, and the horse. Seriously. They both has more interest in the horse than Rio. It even had a three letter name like everyone else: Red.

But let's move back to Jane's funbags, shall we? In many scenes they were so conspicuously featured it was laughable. Riding away from those terrible injuns, the men ride mostly upright while Rio is bent way over with the camera pointed down the barrel of her guns. There is a scene where Doc and the Kid sit and chat, while Rio walks back and forth, her head out of the shot, and her jugs slide from corner to corner.

The Outlaw is a fairly terrible film. The acting was bizarre when not outright bad. The story was almost inconsequential. Here is a very unconventional western that could have been made in any setting. The famous cowboys angle might have made it an easier sale to 1940's audiences, but that was never the main selling point. Having said that, it did hold my interest. While I am open to the idea of seeing it again, I feel compelled to restrict my rating to 3.

"Cattle don't graze after sheep."