I guess the main question about this DVD is if it includes any Monogram buried treasures akin to PRC's Detour and Eagle-Lion's T-Men or, conversely, if it would be nothing but schlock. The result is something in between. There is definitely no buried treasure to be had, but the inventory goes something like this: one interesting genre-blender, one competent programmer, one groaner.
Let's get the groaner out of the way first. Private Snuffy Smith, based on the Barney Google and Snuffy Smith comic strip, is about as bad as comedies get. Maybe it's redundant to call this movie cartoonish, considering its source material, but this tale of Great Smoky Mountains hillbillies makes the Ma and Pa Kettle series seem sophisticated and witty by comparison. Bud Duncan, who plays the bulbous-nosed title character, seems to have less comic flair than Dick Cheney, and this moonshiner avoiding a revenuer (Edgar Kennedy), joining the army and then finding that - gadzooks! - his sergeant is the revenuer, is just a drag that can't get over soon enough. Kennedy and his "slow burn" are both favorites of mine, but I don't think the perpetually flustered actor should ever be the most restrained thing in a movie. It's hard to believe director Cline made this just after the W.C. Fields picture Never Give a Sucker an Even Break. It's even harder to believe it spawned a sequel.
Next, there's Detective Kitty O'Day, the movie of the three that is probably most representative of a poverty row studio's output. Since the advent of film, a big part of B-movies has been knocking off hit formulas. That's what this comic thriller does. With Jean Parker as a meddlesome secretary who investigates the murder of her boss, the premise resembles previous series like the Torchy Blane and Maisie movies. Not surprisingly, Beaudine directed two of the Torchy movies starring tough cookie Glenda Farrell. There's nothing at all special here, and everything is by-the-numbers, from the Irish detectives to the pampered rich widow. But Parker (Little Women) plays the part to the hilt, and this is certainly on a par with the studio B-movies it mimics.
That leaves Club Paradise, which doesn't rate a full-fledged recommendation but is a very unusual mix of bleak film noir and musical. Young heroine Julie (Doris Merrick) begins the story working in a factory and living with her stressed-out extended family. But she's kicked out of the house after she and musician boyfriend Ray (Eddie Quillan) get snared in a raid in an illegal gambling club. With the broke boyfriend off to jail for 30 days because he can't pay his fine, Julie turns her attention to Danny (Robert Lowery), a shady hunk who helps her land on her feet - he gets her a job as a dancer at the titular club - but turns out to be bad news. Lowery, who played Batman in the abysmal, cut-rate 1949 Batman and Robin serial, is hardly Dan Duryea as a noir cad, but the movie's women are more interesting, especially Mae (Isabell Jewel), the club's past-her-prime singer, who warns Julie that "When you get stuck on a guy you leave yourself wide open for punishment."
While dance numbers provide occasional levity, Julie finds little solace in flitting between the two men in her life. Smitten Ray is around to offer himself whenever Danny disappears without telling Julie where he's gone, but she just can't get rid of her itch for Danny. In the most stunning development, Julie sleeps with a thug to settle Danny's debts to him, an act that sends her on a path to despair. Punishment, indeed.
Club Paradise surely isn't the coherent, brooding noir it might have been, but it's the cream of the Poverty Row Theater DVD, and it surely makes you wonder how it might have been with Robert Siodmak (Phantom Lady) directing Ella Raines and Duryea in it. Unlike the other two movies on the disc, the supporting cast in Club Paradise includes many familiar faces, from Quillan (The Grapes of Wrath) and Jewel (The Seventh Victim) to Preston Sturges regular Dewey Robinson and Vince Barnett (Scarface). All three movies, which have presumably long ago slipped into the public domain, are marred by missing frames and many splices. The DVD includes a disclaimer warning about the splices, and explaining that the transfer is from the best available sources. If you grew up on old movies on UHF TV, the experience will actually be a little nostalgic.
For more information about Poverty Row Theater, visit Image Entertainment. To order Poverty Row Theatre Collection, go to TCM Shopping.
by Paul Sherman
