Tuesday, January 2, 2018

The Black Raven (1943), by Sam Newfield



...and we're back!

After I was done writing up the reviews for 2017 I actually had a chance to (gasp!) watch movies for pleasure--that is to say I got to watch the movies I usually watch but without the need to write about them. During this time I continued my exploration of the trash of the 1930s and '40s, eventually stumbling onto the horror-mystery filmography of George Zucco. I previously had only known Zucco for his small role in Voodoo Man and those boring Mummy movies, but I found him to be a hauntingly charismatic actor and every late night after coming home from my day job, I would make a habit of throwing on one of his little hour-long thrillers while my sleeping meds kicked in. I'll be dealing with some of my favorites from the bunch slowly over the course of 2018, and I knew when I made the decision to spotlight some of Zucco's flicks, I would start with The Black Raven.

Amos Bradford is the Black Raven, who runs an inn by the same name. Under that criminal alias, Bradford helps smuggle crooks like mobster Mike Baroni across the border into Canada. Late one night he's attacked by Whitey Cole, an old member of his racket, but he subdues him with the aid of his groundskeeper Andy. Around this time, however, the border bridge washes out, resulting a flock of guests suddenly arriving at the Raven: Horace Weatherby, a suspicious banker with an equally-suspicious suitcase; Lee Winfield, daughter of Mike Baroni's political rival Tim Winfield; Lee's fiance Allen; and finally Tim Winfield himself. There's also a prowling Sheriff, played by Charles (excuse me, "Charlie") Middleton, aka Ming the Merciless. Allen and Winfield clash rather harshly, and Winfield discovers that Weatherby has embezzled $50,000 from the bank he worked for--he steals this money off Weatherby for himself. Is it really that much of a surprise when the old politician winds up murdered when he's so unlikable? Of course, Allen is the prime suspect--after all, Winfield was calling the police to report Allen for kidnapping his daughter just before he was murdered! The Raven, however, is sure the kid didn't do it, and despite his own nature as a crook, he wants to make sure young Allen doesn't get punished for a crime he didn't commit.

Like any good mystery, it's the cast that matters. Zucco is infinitely charming as Bradford, nailing simultaneously the role of a hardened criminal and the heart of gold which lurks within said crook. You can believe he's a good man who was nonetheless willing to sell out Whitey Cole when it suited him. Contrariwise there's little to the engaged couple short of the typical stuff we see in young couples from '40s horror films, but they are plot devices in what is ultimately Zucco's movie. Weatherby, until we find out his dark secret, is kind of a minor hero for retail workers, putting in a speech about how cloying and awful his bank-desk job really was ("I couldn't stand that awful subway with its thick stench of sweat and garlic..."). Baroni does a good job as an anxious but cocky gangster, and Tim Winfield is pure, uncut asshole--robbing a desperate man, and threatening his daughter's fiance to the fullest extent possible. "Lee isn't quite 21," he says, "and kidnapping's a crime. I'll make sure you get the limit!" In 1943, kidnapping meant the chair...yep, that's right! This guy isn't just a crooked politician and a thief, he's willing to have his daughter's boyfriends executed when he doesn't get his way!

Not all the cast is that great. Charles Middleton doesn't get nearly enough screentime, even if his Sheriff does have an interesting rivalry with Bradford. Glenn Strange, the former Frankenstein's Monster himself, is our ostensible comic relief, and while I've seen Strange act outside the Franky makeup before...he's much better hidden in it. His "humor" is so bad it actually took me a few viewings to even recognize that he was supposed to be our comic relief. He's that bad.

But most significantly, there is a road patrolman who is played by none other than Jimmy "Ptomaine Pete" Aubrey. He's only there briefly and he's not that funny, but he's loads better than Glenn Strange. Recognizing Aubrey in things is always a treat, even if they decided not to give him a credit for this one.

There's something right at the beginning which marks this as a PRC movie: it uses the same stock music that PRC, Monogram, and every other Poverty Row studio harvested back in the day. Listening to this movie, you can almost get it mixed up with The Devil Bat and Invisible Ghost and all the rest. Despite its Poverty Row status, it doesn't do dare to do much outside the Hayes Code--even though Amos is essentially a good guy, he still has to die because he committed crimes at some point and such folk must not be suffered to live. There is some blood, though! It's always fun seeing blood in a '40s horror movie. It's like thinking you've forgotten to order a topping on a pizza and you open up the box and see that they gave you extra of that topping.

The Black Raven is a tightly-paced thriller with plenty of great scripting and a genuine mystery. It's a great first George Zucco movie, and it's a great movie for me to come back to as well. I'm glad to be back. Let Zucco blaze the trail into what will be a year of awesome films.

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