Yep, we only watched two films this week. Much of our viewing time has been spent with the new TV season, including Last Resort, 666 Park Avenue, and the already cancelled Animal Practice (not a fantastic example of sitcom artistry, sure, but we always dig the funny animals). We also started watching season five of Mad Men, the first season of British public school drama Waterloo Road (a DVD Talk screener pool selection), along with episodes of Warehouse 13 on Netflix. On my own time, I watched the Frontline productions on Texas high schools and Mitt Romney/Barack Obama this week. Plenty busy!

Broadway (1929). This splashy early-talkie musical probably should have been the focus of Criterion’s recent Lonesome/Paul Fejos release. Though it’s not a particularly outstanding example of filmmaking, it’s very evocative of the ’20s and Hollywood’s rush to capitalize on sound. Considered a lost film for several decades, Broadway‘s appearance in semi-complete form on Lonesome came as an unexpected surprise. The film is a typical, razzle-dazzle affair with hoofers, gangsters, con-men, an intrepid detective, a virginal chorine and an ambitious vaudevillian. There are some fun if dated numbers and good performances from now-forgotten names like Glenn Tryon (Lonesome‘s lead) and silent star Evelyn Brent. The real star of the show is the gargantuan set for the film’s entertainment venue, The Paradise Club, and its awesome craning shots filmed from atop an unprecedented, giant crane (one of the blu-ray’s extras explains the origins of this crane, apparently a huge deal in the 1920s, and its ignoble fate on the Universal Pictures backlot). Director Paul Fejos still displays some of his inventiveness and playful spirit on this one, but it’s also apparent that filmmaking was becoming routine to him. Shortly after Broadway premiered, he returned to Hungary and pursued his first love in anthropologist studies.
Pete’s Dragon (1977). Yeah, I saw this one four years ago. I saw it again this weekend, however, when DVD Talk sent the blu-ray for me to review (my first for that site!). It’s still a bloated, overlong mess. I still enjoyed it, however (nostalgia getting in the way?). My complete review will be posted there in a few days.

This post dovetails into the fact that I left a movie off the last Flick Clique – 1957′s The Big Caper, which we caught on Netflix streaming. I’m not surprised it got left out, actually, since it was a pretty forgettable late noir with Rory Calhoun and a bunch of sleazeballs attempting to break into a bank vault. It’s a decent enough flick to pass the night away, all right, just one without any especially outstanding qualities. The film does boast a rare onscreen leading lady turn by Mary Costa, best known for being the voice of Aurora in Disney’s Sleeping Beauty.

Speaking of Costa and Calhoun, I came across this oddity from The Jack Benny Show in which Mary and Rory sing a duet and do a bit of shilling for The Big Caper. I actually think current talk shows would be much more worthwhile if they had movie stars doing a bit of song ‘n dance. All the better if it comes out as silly as Mary and Rory’s “Mutual Admiration Society.”

This PBS-endorsed music video of Julia Child is the most mesmerizing thing I’ve seen all week. The idea of Julia remixed into a techno-pop video mashup sounds gimmicky, I know, but John D. Boswell (a.k.a. Melodysheep) weaves voices and music in a beautiful, respectful way that celebrates her love of food and cooking. A good commemoration of the lady’s 100th birthday:

I’m currently busy working on a review that encompasses three of the films that would have been included in tonight’s Flick Clique. So, once that is published I will have the F.C. ready with the more comprehensive DVD review linked. Sit tight, kiddies, and enjoy this publicity still of Pete the Pup from the Our Gang comedies.

Today’s video is something that I uploaded to my own YouTube channel, the result of downloading and watching about 200 old commercials for Alpha-Bits cereal from the ’60s and ’70s. Alpha-Bits was and still is my favorite cereal. You might think watching a bunch of old ads would be boring, but au contrere mon frere — seeing how Post changed its approach to selling this simple food over a short time was an eye-opener. From ’60s straightforward to animated through psychedelic and health-nut ’70s, the shilling ran the gamut in uneven but entertaining fashion. It gives one the distinct feeling that Post’s ad agency during those years had a revolving door of executives.

Starting around 1969, Post started including extras with each cereal box. This started with bubblegum rock records actually printed on the box back, then moved towards assorted small toys mid-decade. This particular commercial was picked because it has one of my favorites, a plastic mini-terrarium. After emptying the included seed packet onto a tiny sponge, with regular watering a plant would grow (“in about 8 days!”). Groovy.

Post’s website says that they are still making Alpha-Bits, although it’s been years since I’ve seen a box. It was good, not horribly sweet like many other products currently clogging the supermarket cereal aisle.

When I was a wee tyke, I loved TV commercial jingles (still love them, don’t kill me). This fact came to mind recently when I was listening to a internet radio station for vintage music and Eddie Cantor singing “Charley My Boy” came on. Although the song was originally recorded in the 1920s, Phoenix residents may recall that it was constantly used as the jingle for a series of cheeseball ads from local tire merchant Charlie Case in the ’70s. The ads I recall employed a male barbershop quartet, but the one below has a lady quartet introducing Charlie. Dig those lush production values, one small step higher than a Tex & Edna Boil SCTV skit:

Watching TV commercials must have warped my brain. Entire conversations I’ve had are lost to me, but I could easily sing all of the local car lot jingles from ’70s-’80s Phoenix. That includes Bell Ford, which if I’m not mistaken is still in use to this day:

Speaking of jingles, the one used at the end of Sun Valley Waterbed was nearly forgotten by me, especially considering that their ads with the perky “Carolyn” were on locally all the time. Blonde Carolyn looked a lot like local newscaster Mary Jo West, so in the back of my kiddie mind I imagined that the two were friends. Whether that was true or not is open to speculation, but I did just learn that Carolyn was once the keyboard player in The Brooklyn Bridge (“The Worst That Could Happen”). I guess tickling the ivories didn’t bring in the same cash that waterbeds later did. All three of these ads come from YouTube user DaddySinister.