ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT (1941)

Humphrey Bogart is deservedly remembered for his tough-guy roles, even the “soft-centered” tough guys like Rick Blaine in Casablanca or The African Queen. Sure, he may have cowered a little from Cagney in The Roaring Twenties but you didn’t believe it. He just didn’t do “scared” very well. When Death finally came for him in ‘57, I like to think Bogey slapped him around a little.

So it should come as no surprise that he was taking on the Nazis before it was fashionable. The year before he landed in Casablanca and film history, and begun just two months after The Maltese Falcon hit the screens, making him a star, Bogart headlined a wartime gangster comedy called All Through the Night.

Often described as a “Bowery Boys” wartime movie, All Through the Night is a Runyon-esque story about dapper gambler “Gloves” Donahue and his band of misfit miscreants who get involved with some Fifth Columnists when Gloves sets out to discover who murdered the baker who made his favorite cheesecake. (Pause for disbelief… I ain’t gonna repeat myself here.) Gloves uncovers a Nazi plot right there in New York and neither he nor his boys are gonna stand for that sorta stuff on their main turf. As is declared at one point: “We got ‘em by the seat of their Panzers!”

Relatively lightweight throughout, you’re not putting on All Through the Night for the deft storytelling, though the script by Leonard Spigelgass and Edwin Gilbert (based on a story by Leo “The Education of H*Y*M*A*N K*A*P*L*A*N” Rosten) is a blast not for the plot but for the fun characters set loose on the Nazis. Conrad Veidt, who would be much more formidable as Strasser in Casablanca, plays chief conspiracist Ebbing, but Bogey and his boys run roughshod over him. Among his group are such wonderful character actors as William Demarest as “Sunshine”, Phil Silvers as “Louie” , and other familiar faces include Peter Lorre and Barton MacLane in smaller roles. Heck, even Gloves’ Ma, played by Jane Darwell, gets into the act. Last but not least is Jackie Gleason as “Starchy”, a master of grifter “nonspeak” which provides Gloves with some hilarious double-talk during a classic auction scene. Possibly the highlight of the movie, Gloves is on the run from both Veidt’s bad guys and the cops, who suspect him of murdering a rival crook. Ducking into an auction house, Gloves has to use some fast talking to delay both parties. It’s here that Bogart’s under-appreciated comic timing is displayed. Up until The Maltese Falcon he’d primarily played rock-bottom villains and second-banana hoods. His lighter side, on display in All Through the Night is what makes the movie such a treat.

Other familiar faces include Peter Lorre and Barton MacLane in smaller roles. Heck, even Gloves’ Ma, played by Jane Darwell, gets into the act. Some of the dialogue seems corny today, but that’s only because we’ve had to suffer through seventy years of Three Stooges shorts that made use of the same kind of malapropisms employed by the Donahue Gang. Get down off your high-horse, Prince Mishkin, and enjoy the movie.

Unfortunately for all involved, All Through the Night began production very shortly after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and a Nazi-themed comedy seemed doomed from the start. Warner Brothers rushed production through, hoping to recapture some of the sneering propaganda spirit of pre-Pearl Harbor while injecting a little bit of gravity into the story by citing Dachau and the Normandie Bombing. But All Through the Night got lost among headier fare hitting the screen as the U.S. officially joined the war effort. It was still fun propaganda, but the portrayal of Nazis as buffoons wasn’t as popular in ’42. That was fine and well for Bugs Bunny, but people wanted to see Bogey taking on the enemy in a big way, leading to Across the Pacific and Action in the North Atlantic. The hoods vs. Germany just didn’t cut the mustard.

Sixty-nine years later, though, we have a little more perspective, not to mention healing time, so we can now safely enjoy All Through the Night without fear of making light of the matter (besides, the movie was an afternoon television staple through the ’50s and‘’60s, prompted by Gleason’s success with The Honeymooners and Silvers’ home run with Sgt. Bilko, so I’m sure our tender sensibilities have toughened by now). It’s an almost-forgotten little classic but the good news is that it’s readily available on DVD. So whaddya waitin’ for? Christmas? Get learnin’, Herman! There’s more to this than meets the FBI.

THE COTTON CLUB (1984)

[Reprinted from the unjustly disintegrated Hey, Did You Ever See the Movie...?]

In the late 1920’s anyone who was anyone liked to be seen not in mid-town Manhattan, but in Harlem, specifically at the hot night spot, “The Cotton Club”. Owned by notorious gangster Owney Madden, “The Cotton Club” was known far and wide for its on-stage talent, jazz musicians (and magicians) like Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway, Lena Horne and many others. At this period in time, only blacks performed on stage and only whites were allowed on the floor. Even the performers themselves couldn’t get a seat in the house and had to enter through the back door.

Into all of this is thrust talented white jazz coronetist Dixie Dwyer (Richard Gere), who not starts out playing in smaller negro-owned dives—including one owned by another notorious gangster, Bumpy Rhodes (Larry Fishburne, playing a variation of Ellsworth “Bumpy” Johnson—who he would later go on to play in Hoodlum)—and winds up as a driver for the lunatic Dutch Schultz (James Remar). This being a tough-guy movie, Dixie also winds up in bed with the Dutchman’s girl, Vera (Diane Lane), which naturally complicates things further. Making things worse, Dixie’s off-his-rocker brother Vincent is trying to muscle in on Schultz’s territory. In the meantime, Sandman Williams (Gregory Hines) just wants to get into two things: the spotlight as a great dancer, and into the … heart of showgirl Lina (Lonette McKee, playing a character based on the very light-skinned Lena Horne), but running into the racism of the times, not to mention the seduction of fame.

There’s a lot going on in The Cotton Club, particularly musical numbers, so it’s occasionally tough to keep track of the ins, the outs and the double-crossings. We jump back and forth over the course of several years, finding ourselves dumped into whatever stage of life the characters happen to be in—Dixie’s sudden rise to fame as a Hollywood star in the fictional movie Mob Boss (the character based on both legendary (and doomed) jazz man Bix Beiderbecke and, more loosely, George Raft), Vera’s rise and fall as the owner of her own (Dutchman-backed) club, Sandman’s quarrel with his brother and dance partner, etc. But, as a viewer, you’re surrounded by rich characters and just fantastic music—even if you’re not that into jazz you can’t help but feel like dancing to so much of the score. And it’s a manly musical, after all, and you testosterone-proud fellas can feel confident watching the dancing and singing because it’s often punctuated by very, very violent death scenes. Jazz and booze and gangsters—The Cotton Club has it all.

Though far from a success when it was released in 1984, it went on to be a cable staple and developed a mild cult following over the years. Personally, it’s my favorite Francis Coppola movie if only because, at its heart and beneath all the squabbling, racial tensions and machine-gunning, it’s really about finding joy in your life, however brief, particularly joy in music.

What really put this movie on the map, however, was its lunatic production. Originally conceived as a vanity vehicle for himself, producer Robert Evans eventually bowed out and handed the reins over to Coppola. Allegedly, other producer Richard Sylbert decided to play both sides against the middle by telling Evans that Coppola hated Hollywood and would deliberately try to sink the film, while telling Coppola that Evans thought he was crazy and no one should work with him. Coppola resented Evans lording over him but couldn’t quit because he was in debt up to his eyeballs after losing his shirt on One from the Heart. And prior to any of this madness, Evans’ own extravagance had already spent millions of dollars before the first frame was shot. And speaking of shot, other producers consisted of lovely folks as arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi and promoter Roy Radin—the latter of whom was found murdered in 1983, presumably by a trio of thugs hired by his onetime partner and (possible) drug dealer Karen De Layne Greenberger (and, also possibly, members of the Puerto Rican mob).

Still, when all is said and done, The Cotton Club is noisy, atmospheric and delightful. If you give it a chance, you’ll feel the 128 minutes breeze right by. It’s not hard to find, either, despite it being “technically” out of print—copies can be found online, in the Wal-Mart bins, even little clearance stores that are Meccas for cheap DVDs. If you haven’t already, swing by the Club

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