The Falcon in Mexico (1944)

Posted on January 20, 2014 by badblokebob

“In our peaceful country, life is very seldom in danger,” states one character halfway through The Falcon in Mexico, just one of many instances that might make you think the film was co-funded by the Mexican tourist board. Oh sure, there’s the usual array of thefts and murders that you’d expect from a Falcon adventure, but they’re mostly committed by Americans. No, the film on the whole is very keen on the place, and the quality of its police, and even ends with a shot of a poster proclaiming “Visit Mexico!”

That’s something the production team didn’t do, incidentally, recreating it via some surprisingly good rear-projection (a few times I actually wondered if they had gone for a jolly after all) and intercut documentary footage (rumoured to have been shot for Orson Welles’ unfinished documentary about Brazil, which sort of became It’s All True).

As for the story, it’s one of the more convoluted plots the series has come up with, all to do with apparently-new paintings by a supposedly-dead artist. I confess I actually found it a little hard to keep track of, especially once it all starts getting explained in hefty scenes of speedy exposition towards the end. What I did make out was grandly far-fetched — more so than normal, I mean. Considering the tone and style of the series, it’s kind of OK that most of the plot’s explanations are not even close to plausible in the real world. On the bright side, it does make for another genuine mystery (I should stop praising the series for this now, all the films do it).

It all adds up to another entertaining outing for the Falcon, with a pleasantly different international flavour.

* As with the vast majority of the Falcon series, The Falcon in Mexico hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. ^

The Falcon Out West (1944)

Posted on January 20, 2014 by badblokebob

With each passing entry, the Falcon films become less reminiscent of their Saint forebears and more akin to the Poirots and Marples of this world: a gently comical murder mystery, with a finite location and a finite number of suspects, where the ‘game’ of solving the plot is the point.

This instalment sees the Falcon more removed from his original New York environs than ever before, as he heads out to The West to solve a murder committed in NY. While that might sound illogical, the plot just about swings it, and provides all the Western action it can muster: runaway coaches, shootin’, horseback riding, gentle racism about Native Americans… This is the West of the 1940s, theoretically 50 years or whatever on from The Wild West, but conceptually almost unchanged. Whether that was true in reality I’ve no idea, but it makes for a more entertaining film.

That said, this isn’t quite up to the high bar set by the exemplary preceding film, but it had its moments. Most importantly, it’s another good mystery for the series — hence my Christie comparison. I genuinely didn’t guess who the murderer was; in fact, my suspect was someone else entirely, and there were numerous other red herrings along the way too. A definite success in that department.

Out West isn’t my favourite Falcon film, then, but it is still among the series’ best efforts.

* As with the vast majority of the Falcon series, The Falcon Out West hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release, when it was cut. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. Naturally I have no idea if it’s uncut, or if that even really matters. ^

The Falcon and the Co-eds (1943)

Posted on January 20, 2014 by badblokebob

In American colloquial language, “coed” or “co-ed” is used to refer to a mixed school… As a noun, the word “coed” is used to refer to a female student in a mixed gender school.

I Wikipedia’d that just to check, because in his fourth outing as the Falcon, Tom Conway investigates a mystery at an all-girls school.

Minor oddnesses aside, The Falcon and the Co-eds is one of the series’ better entries. I suppose these days the plot would only sustain a TV murder mystery rather than a theatrical release, but it’s a solid whodunnit — not something these Saint and Falcon films can always claim. Here, the students of a remote girls’ school are suspicious that the death of a teacher wasn’t sudden heart failure as the faculty claim, and one who previously had a dalliance with our titular hero calls on him to investigate. Mystery and intrigue ensue, with a plot that thickens and an array of potential suspects.

Alongside this is the series’ trademark humour. Here it’s served by both the college girls’ infatuation with our suave English hero, and a trio of younger lasses who are part Greek chorus and part sidekick team. The series’ regular comic relief, Inspector Donovan and Detective Bates, are on hand too, thankfully without their grating catchphrase. It’s not all light, though: the film was cut on its original UK release, presumably for the things noted in its 2012 classification: “references to suicide and a drugs overdose”.

In fact, the worst thing about the film is purely a result of its age, and that’s the occasional bout of misogyny. Let’s face it, the girls going all giggly over the Falcon is pretty defensible (look at modern-day reactions to the likes of One Direction, Justin Bieber, or even Benedict Cumberbatch), but the bit where he picks a twenty-something girl up to smack her bottom is a bit much. Still, it opens with a great bit: the Falcon parks his car, a girl immediately runs up to it: “Mr Lawrence?” “Yes?” She jumps in, instantly kisses him full on the lips, and when she pulls away all he can say, with a slightly surprised look, is, “Nice!” You could put that in something today and it’d still work.

The Falcon’s high point to date was surely the previous film, The Falcon in Danger, which was also directed by Clemens and featured two of the same leading ladies — I guess RKO didn’t think anyone would notice, even when the films were released just a few months apart. Co-eds perhaps doesn’t reach quite that level, though it makes a good fist of it. The twisty plot is engrossing and the humour entertaining, though I felt more could have been made of the potentially atmospheric remote cliff-top setting. It’s the kind of film where I began imagining how it might be remade to even greater effect. That may sound like a criticism but, when it comes to B-movies of this vintage, such thoughts always endear them to me.

I often find star ratings a bit useless on these long-running series. They all fall into roughly the same bracket in the grand scheme of movie-watching, but within the series there are distinct highs and lows. In Danger is the only one so far I’ve seen fit to give a whole 4 stars too, but Co-eds sits right behind it.

Lady of Deceit (1947)

Posted on December 13, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Born to Kill / Deadlier Than the Male

2013 #88
Robert Wise | 88 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | PG*

Director Robert Wise certainly had an eclectic career. Depending on your genre predilections, you may feel he’s best known for The Sound of Music and West Side Story, or The Day the Earth Stood Still and Star Trek: The Motion Picture, or The Haunting and The Body Snatcher, or perhaps even a string of film noirs including The Set-Up, I Want to Live!, Odds Against Tomorrow, and this mid-’40s thriller.

Based on the novel Deadlier Than the Male** by James Gunn (not that one), the story sees a young woman, Helen (Claire Trevor), getting a divorce in Reno so she can marry her fiancee (Phillip Terry). On the night she’s due to leave, Helen discovers the murdered bodies of her friendly neighbour and her new boyfriend, but chooses to skip town early rather than tell the police. On the way back to San Francisco she runs into the murderer, Sam (Lawrence Tierney). He inveigles his way into Helen’s life, but when she refuses his advances he turns his attention to her rich sister (Audrey Long), and… well, I’m getting quite far into it now, aren’t I? Suffice to say there are affairs, investigations, and more murders. It’s “an hour and a half of ostentatious vice”, as one contemporary critic put it. You should read their full review, it’s full of more gems, concluding that “discriminating people are not likely to be attracted to this film.”

Even today, it’s quite a nasty little work, although tastes have evolved to the point where “discriminating people” are likely to be attracted to it — though not purely for the violence. You’d imagine that would pale by today’s standards, but even now the opening double homicide — presented pretty much in full on screen — is quite shocking, especially because it seems so horrendously plausible. Much movie violence is heightened, involving gangsters or spies or whatever, but here it’s a lover in a jealous rage killing two people in the kitchen of a regular house. Grim.

The real reason to watch is the quality cast. Trevor and Tierney are excellent as the secretly-duelling central pair: her, scheming but oft thwarted; him, an unreadable mass of brazen nerve, cunning, and a fatally short temper. There’s able support from the ever-reliable Elisha Cook Jr. as Sam’s only friend, attempting to aid his cover-up, and Esther Howard as the gregarious landlady who won’t let the murder of her friend go unavenged. Plus, Walter Slezak as a strangely jovial investigator, one of those left-field characters who never quite seem like real people but, thanks to their appealing affectations, sometimes develop a cult following.

Nasty it may remain, but Lady of Deceit is really probing dark corners of human nature; mining its story from the places people might find themselves if they’re a little too prepared to dig fresh holes to avoid potential troubles. Performed by a cast all firmly on their game, it adds up to a quality noir.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2013 — the first on it to be more than four years old, in fact. Read more here.

* Here’s yet another Odeon Entertainment release that doesn’t seem to have been before the BBFC recently (in this case, it was last classified A in 1948). I’m not sure how they get away with it. ^

** The film is called that in Australia. In the US, it’s Born to Kill. In the UK, it was released as Lady of Deceit and the print aired on TV bears the same title, though the DVD release plumps for Born to Kill. For my money, the novel’s title is the best, followed by the UK one, while the US title is blandly generic. ^

The Pearl of Death (1944)

Posted on August 9, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #15
Roy William Neill | 66 mins | DVD | 4:3 | USA / English | PG

The Pearl of Death is one of the better-regarded films of the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes canon, but somehow it didn’t quite click for me. That doesn’t meant there isn’t a lot to enjoy, however.

The story this time is adapted from Conan Doyle’s The Six Napoleons, and the main mystery seems to be pretty faithful. It’s a rather good one too, involving the hunt for a stolen item — the titular Borgia Pearl — that has been hidden in one of six china busts — the multiple Napoleons of Doyle’s title. It’s dressed up here with some nice touches: Holmes first rescues the priceless Borgia Pearl, but then quite spectacularly loses it. The notion of Holmes being doubted, of having to prove himself to reassert his reputation, is a good one — one recently borrowed by avowed Rathbone fans Moffat & Gatiss for their modern-day Sherlock, in fact. The film attempts to build up villain Giles Conover as a Moriarty-level nemesis, including borrowing some text from The Final Problem to describe him. Unfortunately, Miles Mander doesn’t quite convey the menace to pull it off, but Conover is a fair match for Holmes in places.

Elsewhere, Nigel Bruce gets to indulge in a slapsticky scene that, as ever, people who dislike this interpretation of Watson would be happy to do without. Also worth noting is the female lead, British actress Evelyn Ankers: she was a regular fixture of Universal’s horror features, terrorised in no less than The Wolf Man, The Ghost of Frankenstein, Son of Dracula, The Mad Ghoul, Captive Wild Woman, Jungle Woman, Weird Woman, The Invisible Man’s Revenge, and The Frozen Ghost! (Plus a previous Holmes film, Voice of Terror, to boot.)

The series’ regular director, Roy William Neill, manages his usual atmospheric and exciting touch in places, but others are a slight let down — both involving characters kept in shadow and their eventual reveal. The opening sequence features a disguised Holmes; supposedly disguised to the audience too, though I imagine many will guess it’s him. He’s mostly kept in shadow, on the edge of frame, or with his back to the camera — it’s quite effective, in fact. Sadly, there’s no commensurate whip-the-disguise-off reveal.

Later in the film, the monstrous Hoxton Creeper is shown in silhouette most of the time, with everyone talking about how disgusting ‘it’ is. Unfortunately, when it comes to finally revealing his hideous visage in the final moments… he just sort of turns around to listen to a moderately interesting conversation. Considering all the points when the Creeper could have been revealed to good effect, Neill somehow managed to pick one of the least dramatic. Neither of these reveal fudges are ruinous, of course, and are outweighed by the handling of sequences like Holmes setting off the museum’s alarm, the ensuing robbery, the villains stalking round a potential victim’s house, and so on. Still, I was surprised to find them so wanting.

The Pearl of Death won’t find a place amongst my very favourites of the Rathbone Holmes series, but I feel I may have, for some reason, been expecting too much from it. Only niggles and incidental points let it down, rather than anything fundamental, and a future reappraisal may one day bump it up in my estimation. Nonetheless:

The Lost Weekend (1945)

Posted on May 27, 2013 by badblokebob

Directed by the inestimable Billy Wilder, winner of the Grand Prix (forerunner to the Palme d’Or) at the first Cannes, winner of the Best Picture Oscar in 1946, and also Best Actor, Director, and Screenplay, it’s a wonder that The Lost Weekend isn’t better known. I don’t think I’d even heard of it until Masters of Cinema announced their Blu-ray release back in January 2012, and comments I’ve seen around the internet express a similar experience of prior unawareness. Thank goodness for MoC, then, because this isn’t a film that deserves to be forgotten.

Adapted from the novel by Charles R. Jackson, the entire film takes place across one particularly eventful weekend (well, that plus flashbacks), in which should-be-recovering alcoholic Don Birnam (Ray Milland) tries desperately to fall back off the wagon.

The plot may smack of a worthy social drama (perhaps why it’s been forgotten), but most every sequence is loaded with more tension than a thriller. This is Wilder’s skill as both co-writer and director: he gets us on Birnam’s side early on, so that we follow him through the almost-self-induced hell that follows; and he keeps us on the edge of our seat, as desperate for it to work out as Birnam himself is. But, right from the very first scene, hardly a one of his plans does work out; all of them thwarted at the last possible moment, when victory seems assured. The film isn’t preachy, but if it does teach us a lesson then this is how it does it.

Wilder’s direction is excellent throughout, with innumerable striking compositions, perfectly paced scenes, and the aforementioned tension ratcheted up to maximum. There are other very good directors who would’ve made a hash of a film like this — made one that screams “meaningful movie about An Issue” — but the way Wilder handles affairs means it’s more than that. It explores its issue, it exposes us to the facets of it so that we might learn something, but it does so under the auspices of a drama about a man we come to care about. It’s not an “alcohol is bad” sermon, it’s a “can this man survive it?” thriller.

Equally, the flashback structure could scupper the film, but instead it raises it, with two of the best sequences coming here. There’s the exceptional La Traviata scene — it’s very obviously a bit of Good Direction, but while you could call it showy, it works — and the scene where Wick tries to cover for his brother to his new girl, which lends weight and backstory to the opening scene where he seems ready to (and, indeed, does) callously abandon him.

Milland is astounding. The film rides on him and he really carries it. It’s easy to play a comic drunk, but Milland doesn’t sink to that. Indeed he doesn’t do one type of drunk at all, swaying back and forth across various levels of inebriation as required. I often find films of this era contain performances we assess as great, but if you put them in a film today no one would buy it; they’d find it stagey and fake. Milland’s transcends that — it fits the era, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find it would play just as potently today. I think it’s fair to say that Milland is not widely known today, but with every film of his I become more convinced that history has been unkind.

Also worthy of praise is Frank Faylen as Bim. In his featurette on the MoC release, Alex Cox says he’s the second best character in the film, and he’s probably right. Cox notes that at least one review at the time really laid in to Bim, painting him as an evil sadist. Today, I don’t think we have that perspective at all. Bim tells Birnam the truth, painting his illness like it really is. Whereas his other friends and relations all try to do their best for him, but wind up enabling his addiction to continue, Bim’s experience and detachedness means he can be blunt and truthful. Birnam may not realise the good it’s done him, but good it does ultimately do.

There’s also able support from Howard Da Silva as barman Nat and Doris Dowling as Gloria (is she a whore of some kind? Just an escort? A bar-crawler? Did I miss something?), whose slang is oddly infectious. No offence to Jane Wyman, but her lovelorn-but-strong girlfriend character only seems to really come alive in the closing minutes, when she considers abandoning Birnam to his fate.

The Oscar-nominated score by Miklós Rózsa at first seems highly unusual, a warbling horror movie score, but it quickly comes to fit very well, and not just the nightmarish daydream sequence near the film’s climax. The movie was also nominated for John F. Seitz’s cinematography and Doane Harrison’s editing. They lost to The Picture of Dorian Gray and National Velvet respectively, neither of which I’ve seen, but they must have something special to outclass the work on show here.

I think the same can be said of the whole film. Issue-focused movies from the past are often badly dated, even if we can still admire the filmmaking techniques involved. That’s not their fault — it’s the cultural climate of the time, or the shifts in understanding that have come since. I’ll admit I know next to nothing about alcoholism so can’t comment definitively on the film’s enduring accuracy, but from what I do know of other conditions of addiction and mental health, this feels as if it’s still thoroughly relevant.

Even if you don’t care about The Issue, there’s an engrossing, thrilling drama for everyone to enjoy. If The Lost Weekend is indeed forgotten, then it merits widespread rediscovery.

That concludes my reviews from 2012.

Tom Conway as the Falcon, Part I

Posted on February 28, 2013 by badblokebob

Last September, I covered the birth of RKO’s B-movie detective series, the Falcon, which was born as a less-costly alternative to (or rip-off of) their successful Saint series.

Having presumably made a success of the new property, RKO were faced with a problem: the series’ star, “Russian-born English film and television actor, singer-songwriter, music composer, and author” (and, later, voice of Shere Khan in Disney’s Jungle Book), George Sanders, wanted to leave to pursue bigger and better things. Who better to replace him than his very own brother, actor Tom Conway?

Unlike The Saint, which changed actor in much the same way as James Bond later would (i.e. abruptly without anyone mentioning it), here the series transfers from one brother to the other in a handover instalment, the cunningly titled The Falcon’s Brother. That’s the first of today’s reviews.

Conway would go on to star in a further nine Falcon films, the first two of which are also reviewed below.

The Falcon in Danger (1943)

Posted on February 28, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #73
William Clemens | 67 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | PG*

We’ve had the Saint in New York, in London, and in Palm Springs; soon we’ll have the Falcon in Mexico, in Hollywood, and in San Francisco; but here, he’s just in danger. He’s also in perhaps the best film either series has offered to date.

Ironically, the film begins with one of the worst plane crashes ever committed to celluloid. I’m not berating it for the special effects (they’re not incredible, but this is a ’40s B-movie — we’re not expecting much), but the way it’s shot and acted. The extras are appalling. Fortunately the film almost instantly picks up, offering a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes: said plane, noted as having several passengers when it left its previous location, is now completely empty of both passengers and crew. What the blazes?!

Fortunately, Tom Conway’s Falcon Mk.II is on hand to sort things out. It leads to a moderately intricate case of deception (of course — they didn’t really disappear), kidnap, ransom, theft, business intrigue, a suspicious antique dealership, a murderous guard dog, and a rollerskating rink (no, really). The humour is in shorter supply than in other entries — we’re mostly spared the bumbling cops, so it doesn’t suffer too badly for it. That said, the main ‘comedy’ comes from the Falcon’s latest fiancée, Amelita Ward as a Texan lass who’s distinctly annoying. Reviews abound that assert she completely ruins the film, but it’s not that bad. Though the Falcon clearly agrees with everyone else’s assessment and shrugs her off as often as he can, to our benefit.

For I think the first time, the “distressed girl distracts the Falcon” coda actually leads into the next film (or seems to). Ironically, though that cast includes both of …in Danger’s female leads in new roles, the Hysterical Girl who leads the Falcon to it isn’t in it. Ah, ’40s cinema.

While some may lament the slightly more serious tone, then, The Falcon in Danger surely stands out as one of the more engrossing mysteries the series has to offer. I can’t say I’d complain if the remaining seven films followed such a line.

* As with the vast majority of the Falcon series, The Falcon in Danger hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. ^

The Falcon Strikes Back (1943)

Posted on February 28, 2013 by badblokebob

Directed by Edward Dmytryk (who, a couple of years later, would helm Farewell My Lovely/Murder, My Sweet, which was previously filmed as The Falcon Takes Over — connections, connections), the first film to feature solely Tom Conway as the Falcon is probably the series’ weakest effort to date.

The story trundles along for much of the film, at best a typical runaround, at worst an unengaging tale of stolen war bonds and memory loss. (I say “memory loss” — the Falcon was supposedly unconscious, meaning he didn’t have the memories in the first place to lose. But that’s beside the point.) I was getting a bit fed up with it, but the final act manages to introduce some atmosphere and incident, in the process explaining some of the earlier, apparently aimless, story choices.

With the Falcon series, the makers seem to be making a concerted effort with plots — whereas the Saint films were largely quite straightforward, often only having one possible character to reveal as the villain, the Falcon films are largely genuine whodunits. Strikes Back has a particularly knotty denouement. It doesn’t necessarily make them better — indeed, on the whole, the Saint films are more entertaining — but it gives them something.

Conway makes a solid replacement for George Sanders, because he’s effectively more of the same. Aside from an opening that implies the new New Yorker is uncomfortable with the city’s constant noise, there’s no reference to him being new in town last time round — indeed, the plot fairly hinges on the fact he previously put someone away in the area. His eye for the ladies remains the same, although Conway feels a bit slicker and less whipped. Neither carry the same charisma as Sanders’ Saint.

Jane Randolph is back as Marcia Brooks, but the women largely play a toned down part this time round, perhaps because there’s at least four of them. Goldie’s back, this time played by Cliff Edwards, who is certainly no Allen Jenkins. Whereas Jenkins made for an amiable sidekick, Edwards is actually quite irritating. (Though this is his last appearance for now, the character returns later in the series, played by Edward S. Brophy and Vince Barnett.) The policemen perform their usual shtick, which gets a little more desperate and less funny with each film. At least there’s only one round of the “because I’m the boss” gag this time. The Falcon’s ethnically-variable butler Jerry is still Asian, albeit recast with Richard Loo, and gets a more substantial supporting role, once again in one of the film’s better segments.

Strikes Back recovers towards the end for a decent final act, but it’s a relative slog to get to that point. All in, while not outright bad, I’d say it’s the least entertaining of the Falcon films thus far.

* As with the vast majority of the Falcon series, The Falcon Strikes Back hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. ^

The Falcon’s Brother (1942)

Posted on February 28, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #71
Stanley Logan | 60 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | PG*

The Falcon may’ve done it in the third entry in RKO’s Saint-a-like film series, but now it was time for Tom Conway to take over — as the series’ star, that is.

Leaving my contrived and slightly embarrassing introductions aside, Conway gets a pretty good introduction to what will soon be his franchise. Though we begin with George Sanders still the lead, learning that his brother has been murdered on a ship arriving in New York — only to find out the body isn’t his brother after all — there’s a speedy and smooth transition to Conway being in charge.

Quite why they felt the need to execute such a neat transition, when previously films of this calibre had been happy to just re-cast (see: the Saint), I don’t know, but it works in its favour. Behind the scenes, Sanders had grown tired of B-movie leads, but presumably the series was successful enough at this point that RKO didn’t want to abandon it — especially as they were in the process of losing the Saint. In a piece of too-perfect casting, Conway is his real-life brother. On-screen and in-story, the passing of the baton is so smoothly done you barely even notice it happening, and it gives Conway an unencumbered chance to establish himself… though he’s basically the same character. Whether he’ll have the same gurning lack of success with the dames remains to be seen, however.

Aside from housekeeping, the film offers one of the series’ better plots, a proper detective mystery that doesn’t lead where you’d expect it to for once. That said, I didn’t like the ending so much, especially the way it abruptly dispatches our former hero followed by the gang carrying on with barely a care. The Mysterious Threatening Voice On The Phone is interesting though — will we be seeing a recurring enemy; a Moriarty or Blofeld for the new Falcon? Time shall tell…

Apart from the dual leads, Don Barclay’s Lefty is basically a re-cast Goldy — he even has the same police-bating catchphrase. Why Allen Jenkins left/was got rid of, I don’t know, but that’s the kind of thing that happens in movies of this scale I suppose. A quick flick through IMDb reveals the Goldy will return later, but Jenkins won’t, which is a minor shame. Broadly similarly, making Jane Randolph’s female lead, Marcia Brooks, a journalist also smacks of why-isn’t-it-just-the-one-from-the-last-film-ness. She’ll be back in the next film and then gone again, perhaps continuing the almost-tradition the films are establishing for a girl relay? (I should really stop theorising mid-flow; but then, we are wont to see connections where there are none.)

The bumbling cops are also present and correct, not that I care for them. Their “because I’m the boss” shtick is one of the elements that makes the Falcon films feel more formulaic than the Saint ones, in spite of all the other factors (changing sources of adaptation; changing leads) that should make them feel wildly varied. And the Falcon’s butler, Jerry, is Asian again, after being caucasian in the last two films. Played this time by Keye Luke, rather than being some nasty stereotype he has a nice bit using stereotypes to the characters’ advantage. It’s one of the series’ better comic inventions.

Re-casting your lead can be a major stumbling block for a series, or lead it to even greater success. Normally it’s done abruptly, but the Falcon takes a more transitionary route… and, perhaps surprisingly, it pays off with a mostly fun adventure. And with Conway now in charge, perhaps the series can shake off the lingering Saint on its shoulder.

* As with the vast majority of the Falcon series, The Falcon’s Brother hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. ^

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Category Archives: 1940s

The Falcon in Mexico (1944)

The Falcon Out West (1944)

The Falcon and the Co-eds (1943)

Lady of Deceit (1947)

The Pearl of Death (1944)

The Lost Weekend (1945)

Tom Conway as the Falcon, Part I

The Falcon in Danger (1943)

The Falcon Strikes Back (1943)

The Falcon’s Brother (1942)