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Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 03, 2024

Ranking Alan Ladd's Movies by Favorite

(This is from Lucky Jordan)

Since I just reviewed one of Alan Ladd's movies very recently, I decided to do something a little different to celebrate his birthday today.  I'm arranging all 32 of Alan's movies that I have seen in order of how well I like them.  I've reviewed 29 of those here, but have watched three others only once each -- I want to watch them a second time before I review them, as is my wont.

Like my Ten Favorite Lists, this is arranged by my own personal preference, not by which of his movies I think is objectively the best.

You might notice that my top ten list is slightly different from the list of my Ten Favorite Alan Ladd Movies that I shared back in 2017.  Part of that is because I simply hadn't yet seen some of these movies when I made that list.  And part of it is because my affections have shifted a little after many rewatches.  I should probably make an updated Ten Favorites list for him!

1. Branded (1950)
2. Shane (1953)
3. And Now Tomorrow (1944)
4. The Blue Dahlia (1946)
5. The Great Gatsby (1949)
6. Whispering Smith (1948)
7. China (1943)
8. Calcutta (1946)
9. Red Mountain (1951)
10. This Gun for Hire (1942)

(On the set of Shane)

Movies 11-20 are all extremely rewatchable, I simply haven't felt pulled to rewatch them quite as often as I have my top ten picks.  But they're all solidly enjoyable, and Alan is lovely in them.

11. Captain Carey, USA (1949)
12. Saigon (1947)
13. The Proud Rebel (1958)
15. Saskatchewan (1954)
16. The Glass Key (1942)
17. Drum Beat (1954)
18. O.S.S. (1946)
19. Santiago (1956)
20. Hell on Frisco Bay (1955)

(With his son David Ladd on the set of Saskatchewan)

Movies 21-25 are all really good too.  I'd say the top twenty-five of my favorites are films that can be enjoyed by basically anyone, whether they're an Alan Ladd fan or not.  They're all-around good stuff.  Movies 26-32 might be a little less so... but I've seen two of those only once, so they might move up on this list after another watching.

21. Chicago Deadline (1949)
22. The Iron Mistress (1952)
23. The Big Land (1957)
25. Lucky Jordan (1942)
26. Botany Bay (1952)
28. Wild Harvest (1947)
30. Her First Romance (1940)

Alan has minor roles in The Light of Western Stars, Her First Romance, and Paper Bullets, so it's not shocking that I don't put them high on this list.  He's undeniably the star of One Foot in Hell, but if you read my review of it from a week or so ago, you'll see that it's an unpleasant movie.  I can appreciate it, but I don't like it, so it goes at the bottom.

31. Paper Bullets (Gangs, Inc.) (1941)
32. One Foot in Hell (1960)

(This is from Her First Romance)

Happy birthday, Alan Ladd!  <3

Sunday, September 03, 2023

"Santiago" (1956)

In many ways, the Alan Ladd adventure film Santiago (1956) feels like a kind of a remake of Ladd's earlier war picture, China (1943).  It's not really a true remake -- Santiago is based on a book by Martin Rackin, who also co-wrote the screenplay and produced the film, not on the screenplay for China.  But there are an awful lot of similarities.

For instance, what?  Well, in Santiago, Alan Ladd plays a cynical gun-runner who sells his goods to the highest bidder and prides himself on not taking sides in the conflict in Cuba.  In China, Alan Ladd plays a cynical oil salesman who sells his goods to the highest bidder and prides himself on not taking sides in the conflict in China.

You can say, so what?  Alan Ladd built a career playing cynical anti-heroes.  "Guy who starts out cynical, selfish, mean, and alone learns to care about other people and put their needs ahead of his own" is the character arc for the vast majority of the people he played.  With good reason -- he pulls off that arc beautifully, and why not let him have repeated shots at warming our hearts?


But there are more similarities.  In both films, his character is approached by a lovely, fresh, patriotic woman who tries to convince him to join her cause.  In both films, he refuses to pick a side until someone young and innocent is brutally killed by the opposing side.  Then, and only then, he joins the rebellion.


You've also got a burly and likeable side character who serves as a sort of Jiminy Cricket-style conscience for Ladd's character in both pictures.  In China that's played by William Bendix, while here, it's a job for Chill Wills.  You also have someone who makes the ultimate sacrifice in an explosive way to eliminate as many of the enemy as possible at one time.

Now, obviously, there are quite a few differences.  Santiago takes place in during the Cuban war for independence from Spain in 1868, while China takes place during World War II.  Much of the action in Santiago takes place aboard a paddlewheel boat, while most of China happens in and around a truck.  And Ladd's character doesn't really have a romance with the girl in Santiago.

The first time I watched Santiago, I didn't really notice the similarities, probably because I hadn't seen China umpteen times yet.  But I have now, and man, did I notice a lot of things that echoed that earlier film!


Anyway, in Santiago, Alan Ladd plays Caleb "Cash" Adams, a dishonorably discharged U.S. Cavalry officer who now makes a living selling guns illegally to whoever wants them.  Adams takes a job smuggling guns to the Cuban revolutionaries past the Spanish blockade, which takes him aboard a paddlewheel boat captained by an ex-Confederate naval officer, "Sidewheel" Jones (Chill Wills).


Cash Adams's wartime experiences have turned him bitter, selfish, and cynical.  Sidewheel Jones is the opposite -- he's mellow, kind, and honorable.  The two of them get along oddly well, considering that they were on opposite sides of a war a few years earlier, though that's mostly because Jones is the easygoing sort of guy who gets along with most people unless they endanger his beloved boat.  


Also aboard that boat are the beautiful revolutionary Doña Isabella (Rossana Podestà), whose family is financing the smuggling operation, and a whole lot of mean hombres led by a skunk (Lloyd Nolan) who doesn't want Adams to get the money owed him for those guns.  Much tension ensues, and continues after everyone gets to Cuba.  They can't land the guns close to the revolutionaries, so they have to take them overland, which means there's a pretty big risk of Spanish troops finding them.

Of course, Spanish troops do find them.  Fighting ensues, and quite a few characters die before it's all over.  By the end of it all, Cash Adams is a staunch friend of the Cuban revolutionaries, ready to fight for their independence rather than just pursue money for the rest of his life.


I particularly love that George J. Lewis gets to play a Cuban revolutionary in this.  Lewis was a friend of Ladd's and appeared in small parts in many of Ladd's movies.  He has a tendency to surprise me when he crops up in a Ladd movie because I won't recognize his face, but I'll recognize his voice, sorta -- I'm used to him using what I assume is a variation of his native Mexican accent while playing Don Alejandra de la Vega in the Disney TV series Zorro (1957-61).  It always takes me a while to recognize him without either the beard or the accent.  But he uses the same accent here, and I knew who he is immediately :-D

Is this movie family friendly?  Yeah. There's some violence, but little blood.  The worst thing is that a boy is beaten very badly off-screen, though we know the beating is bad because of how adults react to him, not because of blood and bruises shown to the audience.


It's Alan Ladd's birthday today, just so you know :-)  This review is my annual salute to him.  He was about my age when he made this picture, and in much better shape than I am!  He even got to do a bit of diving and swimming on screen, which I'm sure made him happy :-)

Tuesday, February 14, 2023

"Tribute to a Bad Man" (1956)

It's Vic Morrow's birthday today :-D  To celebrate, I'm reviewing one of his earliest movies, Tribute to a Bad Man (1956).  Although Vic's role here is fairly small, it's quite pivotal.

The whole movie is an exploration of "what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his own soul? (Mark 8:36, NKJV)  I am peculiarly drawn to stories that explore that theme, for some reason.  Or maybe I'm drawn to storytellers who like that theme?  It definitely comes up over and over in movies and books that I enjoy.

Jeremy Rodock (James Cagney) has built himself a horse empire in Colorado.  He owns a whole valley, he's raised hundreds and hundreds of horses, and he's dedicated himself to keeping and protecting what is his.  If anyone tries to steal even one of his horses, Rodock strings them up to the nearest tree.  He goes into a kind of frenzy at the mere mention of horse rustlers.  These are his horses, and he's going to protect them however he has to, since there's no law closer than two hundred miles away.

Of course, in the actual Old West, horse theft was a crime that carried the death penalty.  With good reason.  If you stole a person's horse and left them on foot, in a lot of places out in the West, you were condemning them to a pretty cruel death.  And, with lawmen scattered very widely, and judges even more so, people did often have to kill to protect their horses and themselves.  In fact, nobody in this movie really questions Rodock's lawful right to hang horse thieves.


What they do question is what happens inside to a person who repeatedly hunts down and hangs (or shoots) people with no authority beyond his own determination.  Jeremy Rodock is a hard, anxious, lonely man for most of the film.  He was ranching partners with a guy named Peterson (James Bell) at one point, but broke up their partnership because Peterson was "too soft."  Rodock does have the companionship of a Greek woman named Jocasta (Irene Papas) who lives in his house because he offered her shelter when she needed it, but he always tells her she is free to come and go as she pleases, that he has no claim on her.  He also has a handful of wranglers working for him to help care for his herds of horses and so on, but they are only hired hands, not friends. 


Jocasta has fallen in love with Rodock, and she tries and tries to help him see how he's hollowing himself out with his fierce insistence on killing anyone who tries to steal his horses.  But he won't listen.  He's convinced this is what he has to do to protect what is his, and that his horses and his valley are more important than anything else.  Even himself.


Into this unhappy world rides a young man from Pennsylvania, Steve Miller (Don Dubbins).  All Steve wants is to be a cowboy, but he settles for horse wrangler when offered a job by Rodock.  Steve is immediately smitten with Jocasta, and Rodock's casual treatment of her upsets Steve, since he assumes she is a "kept woman" and doesn't really understand that what's keeping Jocasta at that ranch is her love for Rodock, not Rodock's desire or command.


Of course, some men soon try to steal a lot of Rodock's horses.  Unhappily, they're aided by his former partner, Peterson.  Peterson's resentful son Lars (Vic Morrow) blames Rodock's uncompromising behavior toward his father years ago for making their family poor.  Peterson winds up dead after an altercation between the horse thieves and Rodock's men, and Lars vows to get even.


Lars joins up with a disgruntled former employee of Rodock's and some random bad guys steal a whole herd of Rodock's brood mares and their colts.  Over Lars's protests, the other bad guys cripple the mares so they can't run back to their home range on Rodock's land.  


When Rodock finds them, he is irate over how they have tortured those horses -- and I completely sympathize with him there.  It's one thing to steal a horse, but to purposely maim it is a whole other level of evil.  


Lars doesn't plead for mercy.  He'll take whatever punishment Rodock metes out because he chose to help steal those horses.  You get the feeling he might be grieving so hard for his father that he might actually be subconsciously trying to commit suicide-by-rustling.


Steve Miller begs Rodock not to hang these men, but to take them to the fort two hundred miles away to face a judge for their crimes.  And Rodock decides that's just what he'll do, but with a little immediate punishment added in:  he makes Lars and the other two rustlers take off their boots and forces them to walk over the barren, hot, unforgiving Colorado land toward that fort.


If you need an actor to wordlessly convey deep physical suffering coupled with defiant resentment, Vic Morrow is your guy.  He exudes agony with every step of his unshod feet, stumbling and drifting from side to side.  Yet, at the same time, he retains a sort of petulant swagger, both with his body and face and with his sneering voice.  If Rodock is going to force Lars to walk bootless to face a judge, then Lars is going to stomp every single step of the way as if it's his own idea.  So there. 


Lars spurns help and scorns offers of mercy.  He keeps walking even after the other two men have collapsed and been loaded onto spare horses for the rest of the journey.  And his dedication to defying Rodock starts to remind Rodock of... himself.  He sees in this angry, stubborn, even petulant boy a mirror image of how he's been behaving for far too many years.


That realization is pivotal for the character and the film.  If you had cast anyone but Vic Morrow as Lars, I think the character would have come off like an an angry two-year-old being marched upstairs to take a bath.  But he somehow blends anguished sorrow over his father's death, defiant rage at this forced march, and withering pain until you just can't help but admire Lars.  And all of that with a very, very few lines of dialog.  It's no wonder Vic Morrow's star was rising -- this is only his second on-screen appearance, following Blackboard Jungle (1955), but he steals scenes from James Cagney with ease.  Repeatedly.  Of course, he'd been acting on stage for a while, which helped, I'm sure.


Anyway, everything ends well.  Lars doesn't even die, which is kind of a rarity for Vic's pre-Combat! roles.  Jeremy Rodock realizes he loves Jocasta, accepts her love, and sets off to start a new and different life together with her.  Love conquers all!  Even stubborn and angry hearts.


Is this movie family friendly?  Yeah.  The guys in the bunkhouse do obviously assume that Rodock an Jocasta are intimate, but you only see them kiss a couple times, and she has her own bedroom.  One of the wranglers talks about wanting a new mail order catalog because he hears they have pictures of women in corsets in them now.  The crippling of the horses might be hard on sensitive younger viewers, though.  There's a lynching, but the hanged man's head and torso are out of sight, you just see his dangling legs.  There are a couple of gunfights that result in deaths.  But it's all the very clean and almost bloodless kind of 1950s gunplay where everything is implied, not rubbed in your face.  There's no cussing that I recall.


I've tried to show off some of the gorgeous scenery this movie showcases.  It was largely shot outdoors in Colorado, and there's a majestic breadth to the landscape that sometimes almost overwhelms the characters.

Saturday, September 03, 2022

"Guns of the Timberland" (1960)

It's Alan Ladd's birthday today, and you know I usually mark that occasion by reviewing a movie of his :-)  This year is no different!

Guns of the Timberland (1960) is based on the Louis L'Amour book Guns of the Timberlands (which I reviewed here).  Well, sort of.  The book is about a guy who owns a lot of land with good timber on it, and someone is trying to cut down his trees without his permission, which leads to a lot of trouble.  The movie is about a guy who has a contract and government permission to cut down trees on a specific mountainside for the railroads, but people in the area don't want him to because then the mountain will erode and ruin their farms and ranches.

It's like the same story, but flipped.  And with a different point.  The point of the book was that personal rights should not be impinged on by the greedy and powerful.  The point of the movie is that progress should find a way to go forward without hurting people in the process.  The cool thing is, both stories are quite strong and interesting!  But it's not like a movie adaptation of a book so much as a movie inspired by a book.

What's especially interesting about this is that Louis L'Amour, actually hung out on the set of the film, where he made friends with Alan Ladd!  (Check out the photo of them together here on the L'Amour website.)  In fact, L'Amour later dedicated his book The Broken Gun to Alan Ladd and his best friend William Bendix.  (My review of that one is here.)  So, I guess L'Amour was okay with the changes made to his story for the movie.  Maybe he was used to that by then.


Anyway, the movie is about two friends, Jim Hadley (Alan Ladd) and Monty Walker (Gilbert Roland) who bring a team of loggers to a small town called Deep Well.  They have a contract to cut timber to make into railroad ties for the railroad that's coming through the area.  They plan to clear-cut a specific mountainside and then move on.


They bring a jolly crew of lumberjacks to town for that purpose, played by the likes of Noah Beery, Jr. and Johnny Seven.  They're loud and rowdy, but they're mostly very nice guys here to do their job.


Trouble is, the people of Deep Well are Greatly Displeased by this idea.  They know from past experience (via a nearby town that's now a ghost town) that clear-cutting a mountainside like that will bury their ranches and farms in the valley with mud the next spring and ruin them.  They do everything they can to undermine the loggers, from sabotage to delaying tactics to outright violence.


Now, you and I know that the sensible thing to do here would be to only cut down SOME of those trees.  There's plenty of timber on the other side of the valley too, so surely they could take some trees from one side and some from the other, and that would leave enough trees still standing to keep the mountainside from washing away.  But nobody suggests that in the movie.  It's cut all or cut none, as far as everyone's concerned.


Right in the middle of this conflict are two ranchfolk: Bert Harvey (Frankie Avalon) and Laura Riley (Jeanne Crain).  Bert is a young kid who wants to be either a cowhand or a lumberjack, he's not picky which, so long as whatever he becomes is Tough and Manly.  He works for Laura Riley on her farm, which is right below where the loggers plan to cut timber.  Bert has an unfortunate habit of breaking into song now and then, since he's played by a teen heart throb of a pop star.  The first time I watched this, I sat through his songs, but the second time, I just fast-forwarded them because, well, I'm not here for Frankie Avalon. 


Laura Riley is very Anti-Logger, except when it comes to Jim Hadley, when she's extremely Anti-Logger.  Probably because she can't stand the fact that he's actually a nice guy, and he's always polite and well-behaved around her, which clearly any woman would hate.  


When they first met, before she knew Jim was an Evil Logger, she took quite a shine to him.  Which is probably why she spits fire at him for the bulk of the movie.  I bet she feels betrayed by him turning out to be someone she feels she shouldn't like so much.  So she makes a point of being ornery and mean and taking every opportunity to show Jim that she'd much rather hang out with her foreman, Clay Bell (Lyle Bettger), who is kind of snappish and quick-tempered, but not such a bad guy himself.


If you feel you're about to faint of shock from learning that Lyle Bettger is playing a non-villainous character in this, you're not alone.  I nearly did myself.  He's actually not a bad dude.  Nobody in this movie is a Bad Guy!  They're just antagonistic toward each other because they have opposite needs and wants and desires.  Which is probably why I like the movie, because everyone is actually quite nice.


Well, mostly.  They do mean stuff sometimes.  Clay Bell dynamites the road the loggers need to use so they have to go really far around to get to the timber.  And then Jim Hadley starts to think the townsfolk might be right and they shouldn't cut ALL the trees down, which makes his partner Monty Walker get Very Angry and go do some sabotaging of his own, which somewhat accidentally leads to young Bert Harvey getting into Mortal Danger.  And Monty almost comes to a rather horrifying end, and does end up dying, which makes me sad.


I really wish they had delved more into the disintegrating friendship between Jim and Monty.  They're jolly pals at the beginning, a good team who work and play and brawl well alongside each other.  And then, they start disagreeing, and the next thing you know, people are blowing trees up and yelling insults and having huge fights and considering axing each other.  It could have had a lot of juicy character development in there, but it didn't, and that's a bit disappointing.


In the end, the town does not get buried in mud.  In fact, the loggers and the townsfolk work together to stop a big forest fire, and they all get to be good friends after all.  (Any wonder why I like this movie?)


The loggers leave... but someone jumps on the train with them at the last minute, and it's not Bert Harvey, it's Laura Riley, who has decided loggers aren't detestable after all.  Or, at least, Jim Hadley isn't.


And we all go merrily off to cut timber on some other mountain and ruin someone else's town, or something.  But at least we saved the ranches and farms around Deep Well.  Yay!


Also, who knew Lyle Bettger had such a nice smile?  I didn't!

Is this movie family friendly?  Yup, though there's a scene with people trapped in a burning forest that is pretty intense and might scare young kids.  There are some fist fights and shooting incidents, too.


There aren't many westerns about loggers (I can only think of one other that even includes them: North to Alaska [1960]), which is weird because logging was such a huge part of western expansion.  I'm really glad this movie exists to fill that gap a little.  And most of the loggers in this are jolly fellows, singing on their way to work and going about their business with enthusiasm mixed with the necessary caution such dangerous business requires.  


One other interesting note: the screenplay was co-written by Aaron Spelling, who also produced it.

Happy birthday, Alan Ladd!  <3

Thursday, May 26, 2022

My Ten Favorite John Wayne Movies

Today marks 115 years since John Wayne was born.  To celebrate the birthday of my favorite actor, I've put together a list of my ten favorite films of his across all genres.  A few years ago, I did a list of my favorite John Wayne westerns, but he made plenty of movies in other genres, so today I'm celebrating them all.  Yes, quite a few of them are still westerns, but... that's because I love westerns!

As usual, all titles are linked to my reviews, where applicable.



Four brothers (including John Wayne and Dean Martin) reunite at their mother's funeral and work together to find out how their parents lost their ranch. I've probably seen this more often than all the other movies on this list put together.


2.  Operation Pacific (1951)

Commander Duke Gifford (John Wayne) leads a submarine crew on a bunch of adventures (most of them based on actual WWII events) and tries to win back his ex-wife (Patricia Neal).  I never, ever get tired of this movie.


3.  Rio Bravo (1959)

A sheriff (John Wayne), his recovering alcoholic deputy (Dean Martin), a crippled old man (Walter Brennan), and a young gunfighter (Ricky Nelson) hold off a host of bad guys bent on springing a murderer from jail. About as perfect as a western gets.



Penelope Worth (Gail Russell) might not be quite an angel, but then again, Quirt Evans (John Wayne) isn't quite a bad man either. Her family takes him in when he's wounded, and he does everything in his power to make sure they don't regret that decision even though he's up against some pretty desperate characters.  If you don't think John Wayne's name and "romantic" belong in the same sentence, you need to see this movie.


5. The Quiet Man (1952)

An Irish American (John Wayne) moves into his ancestral Irish home and falls in love with a spirited young woman (Maureen O'Hara), but a misunderstanding with her brother (Victor McLaglen) threatens to ruin their marriage.  Filmed on location in Ireland and such a sweet, sassy story.


6.  North to Alaska (1960)

Gold-mining partners (John Wayne and Stewart Granger) vie for the attention of a former dance hall girl (Capucine) and fight off claim jumpers led by her slick-talking ex-boyfriend (Ernie Kovacs). Much more comedic than the other movies on this list. This is the first John Wayne movie I can remember seeing.


7.  Hondo (1953)

Hondo Laine (John Wayne) encounters a woman (Geraldine Page) and her young son living alone on their remote ranch right as an Indian uprising is about to start. It's got a very sweet and unexpected love story, and also lots of action.


8.  The Sands of Iwo Jima (1949)

Sgt. Stryker (John Wayne) takes a group of Marines from boot camp to the battle of Iwo Jima. This is one of John Wayne's sadder, more multi-faceted characters.


9.  The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)

A greenhorn lawyer (James Stewart) stands up a vicious outlaw (Lee Marvin), and what everyone believes happened during that shoot-out launches his stellar political career. Also, he marries John Wayne's girl, which is really most unfair. This has one of my favorite plot twists ever. And both Wayne and Stewart turn in strong performances.


10.  The Searchers (1956)

Bitter, angry Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) spends years and years searching for his niece (Natalie Wood), who was kidnapped by Indians as a child. Probably John Wayne's finest performance. Even if you don't like westerns, you should see this once because it's a masterpiece.


Happy birthday, dear Duke!

Monday, February 14, 2022

Happy Birthday, Vic Morrow: "Dear Goon"

It's Vic Morrow's birthday today.  You know he's a favorite of mine.  You know I love the character he played on Combat! (1962-67), Sgt. Saunders, more than any other fictional character I've ever met.  You might even know that I have, for many years, co-maintained a fansite dedicated to Combat! that features all the fanfiction I've written for the show over the past 20 years.  I haven't written any for a couple years, but today, a friend shared a new story with me, and I'd been thinking a lot about Vic because it's his birthday, and, well... a story happened.

This is basically a first draft.  I wrote it after my kids finished school, ran over it once to find typos, and now I'm posting it.  If you've ever wondered what an unedited story from me looks like, well, now's your chance to find out ;-)

Happy birthday, Vic Morrow.  Thank you for everything.



"Dear Goon"
by Rachel Kovaciny/White Queen


Saunders turned the unopened letter over and over in his fingers, wondering.  He'd gotten hundreds of letters from home over the past few years.  His mom favored regular letters over V-mail, but she'd use the faster method if she thought she had things to say that needed to get to him quickly.  Never good things.  Getting V-mail from home usually meant a problem.  Something she thought he could somehow fix from the other side of an ocean.  Something that usually left him feeling frustrated at not being able to be two places at once.

Except this wasn't from his mom.

That wasn't her tight script spelling out his name.  And it wasn't her name in the return address section.  It was a loopy handwriting that said 'Louise Saunders.'  And that worried him.  What could his kid sister need to write him about?  She usually just added a line at the end of their mother's letters, maybe a joke or a funny remark.  She'd never written him a whole letter, much less sent him something on her own.

Saunders headed for his quiet spot in the corner of what had once been a greenhouse.  The platoon had set up their HQ in a bombed-out manor house, and they'd been there for almost three whole days.  Long enough for the mail to catch up with them.  He should be trying to grab some sleep that afternoon, resting up before tonight's patrol.  Night patrols were always rough.  But he'd never sleep until he knew what Louise needed.

Thinking her name brought a half-smile to his face.  Louise.  Such a grown-up name for a runny-nosed brat with skinned knees and pigtail braids and freckles.  No wonder he almost never used it.  Not to her face, anyway.  Maybe she'd grow into it one day.

He settled into the corner he'd cleared for himself, sunshine pouring through the glass above and behind him, good walls to his back, all approaches in clear view.  Half of the greenhouse was a twisted wreck, smashed when a bomb tossed a huge tree on top of it.  The other half had been cluttered up with junk and debris, but the panes of glass and metal framework holding them were still just fine.  And it was quiet.

Saunders knew he was just delaying the moment when he'd have to open the letter, read about his sister's problems, maybe see if he could write her back with a few words of... whatever she needed.  Advice, probably.  Didn't daughters and mothers sometimes butt heads?  Maybe she and their mom were on the outs. That was it.  Probably.

Unless there was some reason their mom couldn't write to him.  Chilling thought.

Unfolding the paper against his knee, he skimmed the letter through first, checking to make sure there wasn't any dire news.  No deaths, no illnesses.  She'd typed the whole thing, with occasional misspellings and X-ed out words.  Probably thought she could fit more words that way.  He went back and reread the whole thing slowly, once he saw there was nothing serious to worry about.  

Dear Goon,

I suppose I shouldn't address your letter that way.  Not on the outside, anyway.  Bet they wouldn't deliver something marked 'Sgt. Goon Saunders.'  Maybe they would.  Maybe I should say 'Dear Sergeant' here instead, too.  They read V-mail, don't they?  I guess they read all your mail.

I'm stalling.  Sorry.  I've got a problem.  This is so awkward, but I don't know who else to talk to.  My problem's name is Terry Dawes.  He's sixteen too, and funny, and he reads more books in a week than I read in a year.  I like him an awful lot.  I even asked him to the Fourth of July dance last week -- it was a Sadie Hawkins dance, so that wasn't awkward, me asking him to the dance.  That's not the problem.

The problem is, I mean it when I say I like him.  So much.  Have you ever been in love?  How do you know if you are?  I know you've had girlfriends.  I even liked some of them.  But you didn't ask any of them to marry you before you left for the war, so I guess you didn't love any of them.  And I don't guess you'll fall in love while you're fighting a war, unless you meet a nurse or something.

Stalling again.  Here's the real problem: what if I'm falling in love with Terry?  How do I know if he's a good guy?  I mean, a really good, solid guy?  My friends like him.  But they're all sixteen like me.  What do they know?  Mom likes him.  But what does that tell me?  She liked our dad too, once.  Look how that ended up.  And I don't want to end up that way.  I know I'm too young to get married yet, but it won't be long before I'm not.  I'll be seventeen next year, and eighteen a year after that, and then... 

I know you understand people.  I just wish there was some way for you to meet Terry and tell me what you think of him.  I want your approval.  Isn't that wild?  You're probably laughing your head off by now.  That's what you usually did when I asked you for help with something.  Glad I could amuse you.  But, after you'd laugh, you'd help.  You always did.

Don't worry, I'm not eloping with him or anything.  I've promised Mom to finish high school, and I will.  Maybe by the time I do, you'll be home, and you can meet Terry and tell me what you think of him, first-hand.  I don't even know why I'm writing you this.

Thanks for listening, Goon.  When you get home, can I still call you that?  Or should I start practicing saying 'sergeant' and 'yes, sir' and saluting?

Your bratty little sister,
   Louise

Saunders smoothed the creases and wrinkles in the paper against his knee, rubbing his palm over the letter. The Brat was sixteen?  The Brat had a steady boy?  When did that happen?  While he'd been gone, obviously.  Almost three years -- yeah, she would be about sixteen by now.

What had it been like to be sixteen?  He'd been sixteen when their dad left.  Sixteen was a lifetime ago.  What could he tell her?  Be careful?  Mom would tell her that.  Be sensible?  Maybe.  

Saunders leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.  What did he know about the kind of love a sixteen-year-old girl might be feeling?  Not that swift, aching desperation he'd felt a couple times the past year or so, that yearning for a private little oasis in the middle of a war.  Just two kids, pure and clean and sweet and happy, holding hands and dancing the jitterbug.  And thinking, maybe, this is it.  Asking a wise older brother for advice.  

Some wise older brother he was.

Sergeant Saunders, all out of advice.  Wasn't that a laugh.  Why did the words and the wisdom come easily when he had shells going off all around, or when he was pinned down in a firefight?  But now, nothing.

Who had he loved when he was sixteen?  Could he even push his mind back that far, past the war, past his jobs, past making sure his mom could make rent and his siblings could eat.  Sixteen.  A face teased him, taking its time coming into focus.  His high school sweetheart:  perky nose, red hair, little gap between her top front teeth.  Not his first kiss, but his first real sweetheart.  And he couldn't even remember her name now.  The Brat was right -- he'd never loved any of his girlfriends back home.

Be patient.  The Brat was never patient.  That's what she needed him to tell her.  Take her time, enjoy being sixteen, and let the rest come when she was ready.

Saunders opened his eyes.  It was better than nothing.  Maybe more words would come to him when he had those down.  He pulled out the pen and paper he'd stashed in his jacket's inner pockets, uncapped the pen, and started writing.

Dear Louise,

You can call me Goon as long as you want.  If I can still call you the Brat to your face.  What would your Terry think of that?

Listen, the thing I remember about being sixteen is, everything's happening all at once and you're in a big rush about it all.  Well, don't be...


The End

Friday, September 03, 2021

"Calcutta" (1947)

Today is Alan Ladd's birthday, so you know what that means!  It's time for 93 screencaps and a lengthy, heart-eyed movie review.

::rubs hands::

So, let's get to it!  

"Does a guy have to trust a girl to fall for her?"

That's the central question in Calcutta (1947).  Neale Gordon (Alan Ladd) asks it aloud almost three-quarters of the way through the movie, but it's really the core of the whole story.  And it's what his character arc revolves around, too.


The fun starts when pilot pals Neale and Pedro (William Bendix) have a bit of engine trouble on their routine cargo route between Chungking, China to Calcutta, India.  


Their buddy Bill (John Whitney) talks to them via radio until he's sure they've dumped their cargo and are able to make a safe emergency landing.  He then takes off to bring them engine parts, and says he has some big news to share.


For some unknown reason, only Neale got so hot while repairing that engine that he had to doff his shirt.  Very mysterious.


This shot is just here in case you need a photo of Alan Ladd shirtless AND smiling.  Usually, when he's shirtless in a movie, he's grim or serious, so this is actually kind of rare.


Bill lands on their makeshift runway and offers to buy Neale and Pedro a drink in a nearby town while their plane gets fixed up.  That suits them fine.


Bill's a little banged up because he has this bad habit of drinking too much and picking fights, and last night, Neale and Pedro weren't around to help him out when he got in a brawl.  But he says his barfighting days are over, because he's going to get married!

Pedro and Neale are not amused.  Neale in particular likes women only on a temporary basis.  He reminds his pal, "You've combed enough dames outta your hair to know what they want: stability.  Settling down."  And settling down is NOT Neale's idea of a good life.  He has no use for any of this stick-to-one-woman-forever nonsense.

Bill gets in a fight about two seconds later, and Pedro and Neale happily fend off his assailants and put him back on his plane to head back to Calcutta.  They'll be following as soon as their plane is fixed.


But when Neale and Pedro get to Calcutta the next day, they learn that Bill was murdered soon after he returned the night before.  He was strangled, his body dumped in an alley.  They go to the morgue with Inspector Kendricks (Gavin Muir) to identify Bill's body.

Neale instantly decides that he's going to find out who killed Bill, and he's going to do it before the police do so he can get a little personal revenge on the murderer before he gets locked up.  Pedro has to fly a load of passengers to Chungking and back tomorrow, and he makes Neale promise not to kill the murderer before he gets back so he can take his pound of flesh too.  You know, Bill seemed like a really nice guy, but his pals play kinda rough.


Neale starts his investigation by looking up his... best girl?  Main squeeze?  I'm not sure what to call her!  Marina (June Duprez) is a nightclub singer who loves Neale even though she knows he plays the field constantly.  She's always there for him, however and whenever he needs her company, even though she's about given up hope that he'll ever stop his philandering ways and become a one-woman man.

Anyway, Neale asks Marina if she knows anything about Bill's fiancée, whom Neale and Pedro have never met, and never even heard of until yesterday.  Marina gives Neale a few clues, and he heads off to do some sleuthing.


Neale (and Pedro) start out by asking nightclub-and-casino owner Eric Lasser (Lowell Gilmore) about Bill's last visit to this establishment.  They get very few real answers from Lasser, or from his business associate Malik (Paul Singh).  Both of them seem to be hiding more than they're telling, and Pedro and Neale leave unsatisfied.

Random note, but Alan Ladd spends most of this movie with his hands in his pockets.  I have never seen him do this so often in a movie before!  I'm really curious as to why.  Is it to show that Neale is suspicious by nature, and likes to keep tabs on his own valuables?  Does it show he hides things from others?  Is it to show that he usually doesn't stick his nose in other people's business, and so all this investigating is unusual for him?  Were Alan Ladd's hands cold on set?  I don't know!  But in basically every scene, he either ends up with his hands in his pockets or his arms folded.  The folded-arms thing, I get, because that's an easy visual cue to show that a character doesn't believe something, and Neale doesn't believe most of the stuff people tell him.  But I don't know about the pockets thing.  It's very interesting.


Anyway, guess who shows up at the last minute for that passenger flight Pedro has to take to Chungking the next day?  None other than Malik, Lasser's "business associate."  He's charming and polite and friendly, and Pedro gets very, very suspicious of him.


Meanwhile, back in Calcutta, Neale is trying to find this fiancée of Bill's.  He knocks on her hotel door a couple times, with no answer.  Then, as he heads back to his own room after another unsuccessful visit to hers, she calls out to him from above on the stairs.  And there she is, the seemingly mythical fiancée, Virginia Moore (Gail Russell).  She is young and soft-spoken and luminous and beautiful.


You can see this is not the sort of woman Neale was expecting, not even after his gal pal Marina told him Virginia was a sweet girl.  (And, oh my goodness, is this not a beautiful use of shadows?  Nom nom nom.)


Neale comes back up the stairs to meet Virginia.  She's shy and nervous, but smiles and invites him in so he can ask her his questions about Bill.


Neale listens while Virginia tells him all about how she and Bill spent his last day or two in Calcutta, their plans to get married, and how horrible it was when she found out from the morning news that he'd been killed.


Neale listens... but skeptically.  Neale does not think much of most women.  He thinks they're nice to look at and touch, but that they're all devious and conniving, all just trying to hook a man for good.  And here is the woman who hooked his friend for good, but then his friend died, so yeah... Neale is not feeling warm fuzzies toward this Virginia dame.


Virginia, however, has "sweet and young and confused and sad" written all over her. 


So Neale continues asking questions and being cynical.  And continues enjoying looking at her.


His questions annoy Virginia, eventually, and she decides he needs to leave.  That's when he notices she's wearing a fabulously expensive necklace.  She claims Bill gave it to her.  Neale says Bill never had enough money at one time to buy anything half so expensive.  He asks her to give him the necklace so he can look into this.  When she won't, he snaps the chain and takes it anyway.

Virginia declares she doesn't know how Bill could ever have been friends with him, because Bill was nice, but Neale is, and I quote, "cold, sadistic, and egotistical."  (I am not at all sure that "snapped the chain of my necklace" is enough to label Neale sadistic, but she's a bit given to hyperbole, so whatever.)

Neale grins at that.  "Maybe, but I'm still alive," he purrs before leaving.


Neale knows where that fancy necklace came from, so he heads off to find out if Bill really did buy it for Virginia, and, if so, with what.  And here we meet one of my favorite characters in the whole movie: Mrs. Smith (Edith King).  Mrs. Smith owns an imported goods shop, smokes cigars, and has a really ridiculous hat.  I love her.  

In fact, my brain has tossed together some follow-up scenarios to this movie where Pedro and Mrs. Smith hit it off in a big way and get together.  She is just plain awesome -- a straight-talking, intelligent, no-nonsense woman who knows more than she says.  And she has an eye for handsome guys, too.


Sure enough, Bill bought that necklace from her.  Paid her with a check.  She's all hearty cheer and comradely helpfulness... until Neale tells her that Bill was murdered.  Suddenly, Mrs. Smith goes still and serious.  She'd taken a shine to Bill, and the idea of that sweet kid getting strangled in an alley bugs the crap out of her.  She'll do anything she can to help Neale figure this out, and she's completely sincere about that offer.


Then she's all vivacious bonhomie again, and she and Neale bid each other a chummy farewell.  MAN, I wish she was in this movie a lot more than she is.


Neale is stumped.  He has no idea where Bill got so much money, and he's worried that Bill must've been mixed up in something illegal.  But he just doesn't want to believe that.  He goes back to his own hotel suite, where he lives when he's not flying.


Marina has spent the afternoon there, while he was out, taking a cool bath in his tub.  She comes out wrapped in Neale's bathrobe and perches beside him on the... divan?  Couch?  Thing?


Neale toys with the robe's belt while they flirt a little, eventually tying it tighter rather than untying it because this is the 1940s and the Hays Code is still in effect, so of course he does.


Marina asks him what he's learned, and they do this cute little thing they did at the nightclub earlier, where Neale sticks a cigarette between his own lips to light it, then hands it to Marina.  It sounds dumb when I state it like that, but I promise it's all kinds of flirty and sexy.


Marina reminds Neale that he hasn't kissed her yet, and he's been there for simply minutes and minutes.  


Neale takes her cigarette and stubs it out with one hand while pulling her closer with the other.  Cue a very sultry kiss and a fade-to-black.


We return to find Neale retying his tie when who should come knocking on his door but Virginia.  She wants to apologize for being rude and calling him names, or something.  Neal apologizes too, and gives back the necklace, along with the information that Bill really did pay for it himself.


Marina comes out of Neale's bedroom, prompting Virginia to frostily apologize if she was interrupting anything.  Neale gets a kick out of her insinuations (at this point he kind of treats her like she's a funny kid, while he and Marina are clearly Serious Adults), but Marina brushes them aside with a calm smile.

Marina walks around Virginia, subtly giving her the once-over, and lands firmly beside Neale, right where she belongs.  Without being obviously proprietary, she's letting Virginia know this man already has a woman, and reminding Neale not to be a sap where Virginia's concerned.  Which Neale totally knows she's doing, and finds most amusing.  I suspect him of enjoying having two pretty ladies vying for his attention.


Virginia's sweet face slides into a scowl.  She knows what Marina's communicating too.


Marina even kisses Neale goodbye, chastely on the cheek, rather like a wife would.  But Neale doesn't like the idea of being tied to one woman, so he only smirks rather than appreciating the loyal gesture.


Neale takes Virginia dancing.  This gives him a chance to question her more, and us a chance to enjoy how nicely Alan Ladd dances.  Frustratingly, like most of his movies, this dancing sequence is very short and mostly focuses on faces and dialog.


Virginia pours on the innocent-yet-glamorous charm.


Neale resists it, while looking pretty darn devastating himself.


Pedro returns from the airport at last, and he and Neale confront Malik, who has been behaving really suspiciously.  (Oh look, hands in pockets again for Alan.)  They get no real answers out of him, though.


This shot is here in case you needed a picture of Alan Ladd in suspenders (swoon!) reclining nonchalantly on a bed.


Neale has had an idea about what Bill might have gotten killed over.  He calls the airport and asks what plane will be flying to Chungking next.  


Then he leaves word for Pedro to meet him at the airport and heads over alone because it is always a good idea to go investigate an airport at night, alone, when you're looking into the mysterious murder of your best friend.  ::shakes finger at Neale for not having better sense::


Actual surprise:  Neale finds a bag of smuggled jewelry under the floor of the airplane.


Not an actual surprise:  Neale is then attacked by someone who tries to strangle him.  

Spoiler Alert: he gets away.


Also not a surprise:  when Neale gets back to his hotel, Malik shows up with a gun before Neale can even get his coat off.  Malik wants the bag that Neale took from the airplane, of course.


Neale thinks this is awesome.  He's pretty sure he knows who was behind Bill's death now.  Also, he knows something Malik doesn't know:  the bag's empty.


Neale and Pedro stashed the goods so they can use it as bait to draw Bill's killer out, and Neale is quite chuffed at how well their plan has worked.

Except Malik says he has no idea who killed Bill.  He simply heard something about smuggled goods being up for grabs and came sniffing around.  Totally innocent of anything but curiosity, la la la la la.


Yeah, Neale's not buying it, but he lets Malik leave with his pistol and the empty bag.  Look at that casual leeeeeeeeeean.  He thinks he's about to wrap up this whole mystery.


I'm not done looking at that lean, are you?  (Also, hands in pockets again.)  

Now, the plot is going to kick into overdrive, and I'm going to start spoiling stuff all over, so if you don't want SPOILAGE, skip to after the last picture.

You've been warned.


Malik wasn't warned, though, and he ends up dead about 30 seconds after he leaves Neale's room.  

I really like the composition of this shot, how crowded with action it is.  Also, look how many patrons this hotel has, after seeming mostly empty all this time!


Dear old Inspector Kendricks arrives and questions everyone, especially Neale, who folds his arms and cooperates a little, but mostly just glares and makes a lot of snide remarks.


Then he sticks his hands in his pockets and glares some more.  


This shot is here in case you needed to see a picture of Alan Ladd pouring himself a spot of tea.


I kind of collect pictures of favorite actors and characters drinking things, so I had no choice but to screencap this.

Anyway, Marina and Neale have a chummy breakfast while they discuss Malik's death and all the things Neale didn't learn when he was out dancing with Virginia, etc.


I missed this the first two times I watched Calcutta, but I think this is a turning point in Neale's character arc, even if Neale and Marina don't realize it.  Up until now, we always see Neale lighting a cigarette and then passing it to Marina.  But here, Marina lights one and hands it to Neale instead.


Neale doesn't even notice, really -- he's so wrapped up in trying to figure out if Virginia is involved in Bill's death, and who killed Malik, and where all that smuggled jewelry came from.  He accepts the cigarette and goes right on pondering.


Isn't Marina pretty?  I love her eyes.

Neale is still contemplating everything he doesn't know about who killed Bill when the Friendly Neighborhood Desk Clerk (Milton Parsons) calls to say that Neale should come up to Virginia's room right away.  It's been ransacked, and Virginia is nowhere to be found.

We get treated to this sly little exchange that I can't believe got past the censors:

Neale: Has the bed been slept in?
Desk Clerk: No.
Marina: Well, I'm glad you asked that question.

Does Marina know that Neale sleeps with other women?  Yes, she's known that all along.  Is she okay with that?  Not as okay as he's assumed she is.  And she's getting less okay with it all the time.  Marina's attitude toward Neale is changing from resigned to protective, and Neale hasn't quite noticed yet.  He also hasn't noticed that he's started appreciating how steady and dependable Marina is, especially compared to the other leading lady in the story.


Speaking of other ladies, Neale goes back to see Mrs. Smith again, arriving when she's in the middle of a rather elaborate beauty treatment.  Or, as she puts it, getting her warpaint on.


Neale thinks now that Mrs. Smith is behind the smuggling.  She says she and Malik used to be partners in a bit of illegal exporting and importing, but that ended years ago.  Before they can get any more info out of each other, the police arrive and take Neale off to the station for questioning regarding Malik's death.


I haven't talked much about Pedro yet.  When the movie starts, you kind of assume Pedro is, well, dimmer than Neale.  He's not dumb, but he's not the guy digging up clues.  He's the sidekick, following along with whatever the hero says.  But in this scene, you discover that Pedro is a fast thinker and keeps a cooler head than even Neale.  He's extremely good at reading people, and he uses that to flip everything the police think they know upside down, ensuring that Neale can keep investigating, even though Pedro will have to stay in jail for a bit.

This doesn't come as a surprise when you think back over how accurately Pedro has pegged Bill, Marina, and Virginia over the course of the film.  He's observant and savvy, and I love that about him.


I think Neale realizes here that he may also have underestimated Pedro -- not his intelligence, but his devotion to being sure they find out who killed Bill.  It's a cool scene.


Virginia sends for Neale.  She's staying at "a friend's" apartment across town.  I'd just like to point out that, although Pedro's the one cooling his heels in jail right now, Neale's the one with shadowy stripes on his clothes, posed up against a beaded curtain that looks vaguely like bars in a jail cell.  


In fact, there are bars and stripes all over this apartment, making it look like an elaborate cage.


Neale remains skeptical about the things Virginia tells him, especially about how Bill got that money to buy that necklace.  She insists he won it gambling.  Neale knows Bill wasn't a gambler.


Buuuuuuuuuuuuut she's beautiful, and she's in distress, and right here is where Neale asks that central question: "Does a guy have to trust a girl to fall for her?"  Because he doesn't really trust Virginia (he claims he doesn't trust any woman), but he is really starting to fall for her.

For the record, Virginia's answer to that question is "No, he doesn't."


It appears that Neale spends the night in Virginia's apartment.  Very early the next morning, he leaves her a note and heads back to the hotel.  This shot is mostly here because I also collect pictures of favorite actors and characters writing.


Back at the hotel, Neale gets some extremely enlightening information from, of all people, the Friendly Neighborhood Desk Clerk.  


This leads him to question the waiters for the hotel's bar, and this new information shoots holes all through Virginia's story about how she and Bill spent their last evening together, and about how she learned that Bill had died.

And now Neale has what he's wanted all along: a way to find Bill's killer.


Neale returns to Virginia, bringing all that smuggled jewelry with him.  She just about drools when she sees it.


But then Neale confronts her with her lies about Bill.  She responds by reminding him that she never claimed to love Bill, but she thinks she's in love with Neale now.


Uh, yeah, Neale's not buying what you're selling anymore, sweetheart.  You gambled on the fact that most men will fall for a girl they don't trust -- it's worked beautifully for you for a long time now.  But Neale... Neale has learned better, thanks partly to you and partly to having a girl in his life he really can trust.


When she won't answer his questions about how she helped get Bill killed, Neale slaps her around a little.  "Do you think you're too pretty to hit?" he snarls.


Yeah, she did think that.  She also thinks if she cries, he'll feel sorry for her.  Virginia has never really understood what deep friendship there was between Neale, Pedro, and Bill.  She's used to being able to charm any man into doing anything for her, even turning against his own friends.  But Neale's cynicism about women, and his true friendship for Bill, keeps him from falling for her charms too far.


He finally gets her to confess that she's been in cahoots with Lasser (the nighclub owner) long before she met Bill, and that she used her feminine wiles to distract pilots and keep them happy while Lasser used their planes to smuggle things in and out of China.  The only trouble is, Bill was an actually nice guy who actually fell for her, but then got wise to the smuggling, and Lasser had him killed.


Virginia insists she loves Neale.  Then she tries to shoot him.  Lasser turns up and tries to shoot Neale too.  Neale shoots Lasser, finally fulfilling his vow to take down the guy who killed Bill.  Or, had him killed, anyway.  I can't actually remember if we for sure find out who strangled Bill -- I think it was the same henchman who tried to strangle Neale at the airport?


And then, Neale calls the police.  All the way up to here, Virginia has been doe-eyed and sweet and trembling, still giving Neale the come-hither treatment.  She's doing everything she can to convince him to blame everything on Lasser (including a murder she committed) and help her get out of this.


But when Neale really does turn her over to Inspector Kendricks, she loses all the sugar and snidely says, "I would have hated to have killed you."  And she kisses Neale on the cheek, just the way Marina did earlier, but with a weird look of regretful malice.


We cut to Neale getting ready to take off on a flight to somewhere.  Marina brings him the extra shirt he always forgets to pack, and a bag of sandwiches.  Just the sort of domestic, wifely attentions that Neale has scorned all his life.  But Neale has learned something important: trust is more important in a relationship than all the sexy sparkage you can feel toward a stranger.

Neale tells Marina, "You're an awfully swell guy."  He said this to her once before, early in the film, but the meaning of his words has completely changed.  Earlier, he meant that he liked that she didn't ask to be more to him than just a pal.  Someone he could fool around with, without feeling guilty when he fooled around with some other girl.

But I don't think that's what he means by it now.  Now, he means that he values her the way he values Pedro and Bill -- as someone he can trust and depend on.  Someone he wants to be loyal to.

In fact, I wouldn't be awfully surprised if Pedro got asked to be best man at a wedding before too awful long.

(If you were avoiding spoilers, you're safe now.)

Is this movie family friendly?  Well, yeah.  All the love scenes fade to black a few seconds after they begin.  Neale's philandering is obliquely referred to, and you could just view him as someone who goes around kissing a lot of girls if you want to.  The death scenes are bloodless.  There's no cussing.  Lots and lots of cigarettes get smoked, though, and people drink various alcoholic beverages.

I find it very interesting that Alan Ladd made so many movies about three wartime buddies, one of whom gets in terrible trouble and has to be protected, helped, or avenged by the other two.  This, The Blue Dahlia (1946), and Saigon (1947) all kind of use that basic set-up.  I'm not really going anywhere with this observation, I just noticed it and thought I'd mention it.  The three-wartime-buddies motif gets used in lots of other movies too -- Anchors Aweigh (1945), On the Town (1949), and It's Always Fair Weather (1955) come to mind.

Anyway, happy birthday, my dear Alan Ladd :-)  Thanks for making all these delicious movies!