Registered Nurse

Film In Focus

By Ed Garea

Registered Nurse (WB, 1934) – Director: Robert Florey. Writers: Lillie Hayward & Peter Milne (s/p). Based on Night Duty, a play by Florence Johns & Wilson Lackeye, Jr. Cast: Bebe Daniels, Lyle Talbot, John Halliday, Irene Franklin, Sidney Toler, Gordon Westcott, Minna Gombell, Beulah Bondi, Vince Barnett, Phillip Reed, Mayo Methot, Renee Whitney, Virginia Sale, Ronnie Cosby, Edward Gargan, Louise Beavers, Harry Ekezian, & Tor Johnson. B&W, 63 minutes.

Registered Nurse is an entertaining programmer from Warner Bros. and director Robert Florey. Florey crams a lot of plot into only 63 minutes while making us feel the film is longer. It boasts solid performances from its stars, and despite some rather poorly written plot contrivances, manages to entertain and see us through until the end.

The film opens with a shot of Sylvia Benton (Daniels) descending a staircase at a country club while the whispers of other members play about her. They are whispering how she can stay married to such a dolt as Jim Benton (Westcott). Although socially prominent, he seems to prefer a drink or two, or three, to the company of his wife, as we witness when she walks over to the club bar to remind him that he promised the next dance to her. Jim doesn’t want to be bothered and tells her so in rather rude terms, so rude that Bill (Reed), the fellow standing next to him at the bar, offers to dance with her instead. This enrages Jim, who cuts in and attempts to take it outside with Bill. Cooler heads prevail and rush Jim outside. Jim’s had enough; he’s leaving and demands Sylvia accompany him. Sylvia tells him it would be better if she drove, given his condition, but Jim declines her offer, hitting the pedal hard as they speed along.

While in the car, an interesting conversation is going on. Sylvia is fed up with Jim’s antics. She’s had enough and wants a divorce. That’s fine with Jim, who tells her not to expect any alimony. Sylvia replies that she doesn’t need any alimony from him; she still has a valid R.N. license and can work in a hospital. Florey then cuts to the speedometer on Jim’s Lincoln and we know it’s only a matter of seconds before the inevitable crash. And, sure enough, he fails to negotiate a corner and crashes the auto in a ditch. Sylvia gets out unhurt and goes to the driver’s side to check Jim’s pulse. As the scene fades, we’re pretty sure he didn’t make it, but it ends on that ambiguous note.

In the next scene we cut to a New York City hospital where Sylvia is applying as a nurse. She tells Supervisor of Nurses, Miss McKenna (Bondi), that she is unmarried. Next comes a montage of the years passing until the present day. Not only is Sylvia established in the hospital, she has two doctors madly in love with her: the flirtatious Dr. Greg Connolly (Talbot) and the older, serious, Dr. Hedwig (Halliday). It is here where the film takes a turn into an ensemble drama, somewhat along the lines of Grand Hotel, but closer to previous Warner ensemble offerings such as Life Begins (1932) and Employees’ Entrance (1933). It’s a “life behind the scenes” type of film as Sylvia and her fellow nurses – Beulah Schloss (Gombell), Gloria Hammond (Methot), and Ethel Smith (Whitney) – as they treat all manner of patients.

Sylvia’s bedside manner is impeccable, as she calms wrestling manager Frankie Sylvestrie (Toler), who demands to be released by the hospital, even though he suffered a broken leg in a fight. She also calms patient Sadie Harris (Franklin), who is hospitalized with a swollen eye and a broken jaw suffered in a fight with boyfriend Frankie. We also learn that she’s the madam of a local bordello (this is Pre-Code, after all), and that she wants no part of Nurse Hammond treating her. Sylvia calms her and takes charge. In addition, she ends up calming a nervous husband worried about his wife, and has quite the tear-jerking scene after Dickie (Cosby), a young boy she and Dr. Hedwig have been treating in the children’s ward, suddenly dies.

As if that wasn’t enough, Sylvia also acts as a moral support to her fellow nurses, bucking up Nurse Schloss in her romance with Officer Pat O’Brien (gotta love that name) while fielding passes from Doctors Connolly and Hedwig. Both doctors are pursuing “Ben,” as they call her, fervently, with Hedwig actually proposing to her. Connolly is also wishing to propose. We learn that Connolly is involved with Nurse Hammond, but is keen to dump her for Sylvia, a point Hammond makes to Sylvia.

Later, as Sylvia and Greg are alone in the cafeteria, Greg broaches the subject of marriage and Sylvia tells him the reason she cannot accept. It seems she’s been married for the last five years, although separated for the last three. Greg asks why can’t she get a divorce. Sylvia replies that it would be impossible. When Greg presses her on the subject, she leaves. Hedwig now enters and Greg spills the beans to him.

Sylvia, who has been a rock of calm in this storm of nerves, suddenly goes to pieces one day when Hedwig operates on a psychopathic woman in an attempt to restore her sanity. We know that the situation is coming to a head, and it spills over at a party Sylvia and Greg are attending. He vows his love to Sylvia, telling her that he has stopped seeing all other women. It’s then that Sylva tells him the reason she cannot get a divorce. It seems that Jim survived the crash, but has become violently insane and is confined to a mental institution. Because of his condition, the law will not allow her to divorce him.

As if this isn’t enough, the soap now gets thicker. Schloss’s fiancée, Officer O’Brien, is shot during a holdup and dies in front of her at the hospital. Sylvia abandons her problems to help Schloss deal with her loss. As this is going on, guess who walks into the hospital? Why, Jim, of course. Seems he escaped from the looney bin, and during one of his few sane moments has decided to come to the hospital. While he is speaking to Dr. Hedwig in his office about an operation to cure his insanity, who should come sauntering in but Sylvia? To say she’s surprised to see him is an understatement. He needs her consent for the operation as he’s legally certified, and she’s not sure as the operation is dangerous, but Hedwig talks her into consenting.

Meanwhile, Greg tells Sylvia they should continue their affair even if Jim recovers. After Officer O’Brien was killed Greg told Sylvia they should grab happiness while they can because they never know when life will end. Both remarks are not taken well by Sylvia.

While Jim is in his room preparing for the operation, Sylvestrie comes to visit. Pretending not to know that Jim is Sylvia’s husband (he overheard Sylvia and Hedwig talking), he relates Sylvia’s story and tells Jim the right thing for the husband to do would be to commit suicide. And that is exactly what Jim does a short while later, jumping from a hall window. While this frees Sylvia, she decides to quit. When she visits Hedwig in his office to say good-bye, he asks if she’s marrying Greg, to which she answers “no.” Hedwig then asks her what she’ll do. She’s not sure. How about traveling, he proposes. He’d like to take her to Europe with him. Then he proposes and she accepts. But first, he has an emergency operation, and before she resigns, Sylvia tells him she’ll stand in as his nurse.

Amidst all this drama there’s one weak attempt at comedy. As Sylvestrie is convalescing, he is visited by two of his wrestlers: El Humid (Ekezian) and Sonnevich (Johnson). They bring him flowers and he tells them they should be in Miami for the show there. Sonnevich replies that they’re about to leave, but asks a favor of his boss. He knows that El Humid is scheduled to win, but couldn’t he win instead? He has a girl down there he’s interested in romancing. El Humid is against it. “You won last time,” he tells his opponent. “Yeah, well, you can’t wrestle, anyway,” Sonnevich fires back. One word leads to another, and before long the two are embroiled in a set-to right in Sylvestrie’s room, with Sonnevich sent sprawling over the promoter’s bed, as the doctors and nurses try to break them up. Cut quickly to the next scene and we see both grapplers bandaged and in bed. When they’re finally released they get into it again and we see the nurses simply remaking their beds. Johnson, who does most of the speaking during their scenes, is almost unrecognizable with a full head of hair and a voice that can be understood, unlike the accented guttural tones he used in Plan 9 From Outer Space. (How director Florey ever got a name such as “Sonnevich” past the censors, I’ll never know.) Ekezian would change his ring name to “Ali Baba” in 1935, and on April 25, 1936, he became world’s champ by defeating Dick Shikat.

As I said at the beginning, this is an entertaining programmer, though not really a good film. It’s more for those who love Pre-Code films or medical melodramas. Director Florey keeps things going at a good pace and brought the picture in ahead of time and under budget, a habit he’s was known for, especially later in his career, and one that probably helped him get work, as he was not a particularly outstanding director.

Stars Daniels, Talbot, and Halliday are all fine, given the limitations of the script. Daniels lays it on a little thick during the scenes where she zones out upon hearing of a patient’s mental illness, but otherwise pulls off a decent performance. I’ve always been of the opinion that Daniels was the most underrated and ill-used actor on the Warner Bros. roster. She was great as Dorothy Brock in 42^nd Street, and her Ruth Wonderly in the 1931 version of The Maltese Falcon is far superior to Mary Astor’s portrayal of the role in 1941. I could never see Bogart’s Sam Spade being nuts about Astor’s Wonderly, but I can easily see why Ricardo Cortez’s Sam Spade would be crazy about Daniels as Wonderly. Also check out her performance sometime as Lily Owens with Edward G. Robinson and Aline MacMahon in the 1932’s drama, Silver Dollar. 

Talbot is excellent as the smarmy cad and Halliday makes the most of his role as more of a father figure than a romantic lead. Talbot shines in a scene where the madam, Sadie, is admitted. When he stops by to visit her she greets him as “Dr. Gregory.” Talbot looks shocked and tells her he’s “Dr. Connolly.” None of this escapes the attention of supposed girlfriend Nurse Hammond, who was also in the room.

But it’s the supporting cast that makes the film interesting. As wrestling promoter Sylvestrie, Toler almost steals the movie, and Irene Franklin, as his madam girlfriend, works well with him. The nurses are all fine, with Methot getting some good screen time. It’s the most I’ve ever seen of the Portland Rosebud in a film, save for Marked Woman. Edward Gargan as O’Brien, the boyfriend of Schloss, only seems to be in the film as a sort of filler between scenes of what’s going on with Sylvia. Veteran actor Vince Barnett shines as Jerry, the orderly. He has a great scene at the staff party, serving drinks to McKenna (Bondi) and Miss Dixon, a probationary nurse (Sale). He’s serving them “Pink Suspenders,” but offers to make them a “Bosom Caresser,” so-called he says, “because it warms you all the way down.”

One thing that tickles a lot of people who have seen the film is the amount of smoking going on, especially with the doctors and nurses. In one scene, the nurses make a point of striking their matches against a “No Smoking” sign posted in their break room. But those were different times back then; patients could even smoke in their rooms.

The advertisements for the film claimed, “Every scene is a shock,” and that “It will run your temperature up to 105.” Well, not quite, but that’s what ads are for.

Afterwords

This was Bebe Daniels’s last film for Warner Bros., and I’m surprised they used her in an obvious Kay Francis vehicle. She did one film after this, Music is Magic for Fox, and moved with husband Ben Lyon (whom she married in 1930) to England, where both became successful on the West End stage. The Lyons also had their own radio show in London called “Life With the Lyons” and stayed in England during the war, even broadcasting during the height of the Blitz. They were the most popular couple on English radio and their program vied with Tommy Handley’s “It’s That Man Again” for the number one position in the radio ratings. They parlayed their radio success into a couple of films, the last one being The Lyons Abroad (1955).

Daniels was making a personal appearance in Chicago when she discovered that $6,000 worth of jewelry was stolen from her hotel room. Al Capone, a big Daniels fan, put out word that whoever stole the jewelry had better return it “or else.” The jewelry was all returned the very next day.

She was a cousin of actors DeForest (Star Trek) Kelley and Calvert DeForest (Larry “Bud” Melman on David Letterman's show).

Hotel Transylvania 2

Dinner and a Movie

Baby Bat and Baccarat

By Steve Herte

My last week of vacation opened with a blast, both weather-wise and entertainment-wise. Enjoy!

Hotel Transylvania 2 (Columbia, 2015) – Director: Genndy Tartakovsky. Writers: Robert Smigel & Adam Sadler. Voices: Adam Sandler, Andy Samberg, Selena Gomez, Kevin James, Steve Buscemi, David Spade, Keegan Michael-Key, Asher Blinkoff, Fran Drescher, Molly Shannon, Jon Lovitz, Megan Mullally, Jonny Solomon, Nick Offerman, Dana Carvey, Sadie Sandler, Rob Riggle, & Mel Brooks. Animated, Color, Rated PG, 89 minutes.

“I don’t say, ‘Blah, blah, blah!” scowls Count Dracula (Sandler) when his grandson proudly speaks his first words. It’s a running gag left over from Hotel Transylvania (2012) that continually gets his goat.

As the camera zooms in on the iron gates of foreboding Castle Dracula at the beginning of the film, it takes the audience through them, across a courtyard and up to a modern glass revolving door and into the main hall of the Hotel Transylvania. We’re at the wedding of Jonathan and Mavis and their two families, one of monsters and the other of humans, take their places on either side of the main aisle. The Phantom of the Opera (voiced by Lovitz, of course) is at the organ and the procession starts. The flower girl (human) is prettily dressed and adorable – that is until several werewolf pups hijack her in a whirlwind and muss up her hair and outfit – and the bride appears at the entrance, in a black Morticia Addams-style dress and a glittering veil of spider webs.

Six months later, Mavis asks her father to go for a “fly” with her (as bats) and, after a game of hide and seek in the clouds, reveals her pregnancy to him. Dracula is overjoyed to have a new vampire added to the family even though she cautions that it might be a purely human child.

Dennis (Blinkoff) is born with a thick head of curly red hair (from his father) and Grandpa Drac (he calls himself “Vampa Drac”) can’t wait to see his fangs grow in. “Maybe he’s a late-fanger. I was.” He explains, eagerly awaiting the child’s fifth birthday, when they will know for sure. As the time draws close for that ominous birthday, Mavis wants to go to California and see the place where Johnny grew up, possibly to move there should the child be human.

Fearful that Johnny and Mavis will like living among humans and that they will take his new grandson away, Dracula charges Johnny with not making the trip too enjoyable and to keep Mavis distracted enough to not phone home.

With Mavis and Johnny out of the way, Dracula enlists his friends Frankenstein (James), Wayne the werewolf (Buscemi), Griffin the Invisible Man (Spade), and Murray the mummy Imhotep (Michael-Kaye) and they all pile into a hearse with baby Dennis. Blobby the blob (Solomon) insists on coming along but doesn’t fit comfortably inside, so they hook up a sidecar for him. Their goal is to bring out the vampiric side of Dennis before his parents return.

Not all goes as planned however. The scary forest where Drac honed his terror techniques is now populated by selfie-taking yuppies who think monsters are cool. The “Vamp Camp” where he learned to fly is now anything but scary and more Kumbaya than Creepy under the slightly effeminate camp counselor, Dana (Carvey). The rickety tower he was tossed off as a baby is now off-limits, but he and his crew climb it and toss Dennis off. Of course, Drac has to rescue the kid when he doesn’t fly on his own. But Frankenstein manages to topple the tower and set himself afire and goes running through the campgrounds lighting all the buildings in the process. It’s at this moment that Mavis calls, hears the sirens and tells Drac she’s coming home. It a wacky race back to Castle Dracula, one that Drac loses. Mavis has made up her mind. She can’t even trust her Dad. After the fifth birthday party, she, Johnny and Dennis are leaving for California.

The night before the party it’s revealed that Mavis invited Grandpa Vlad (Brooks). Dracula hastily decides to make it a monster costume party to keep Vlad from learning that the hotel has been open to humans (Vlad is “Old School” on this topic). But Vlad brings his gargoyle pal Bela (Riggle) who can smell a human at 50 paces, and he and his fellow gargoyles turn the last scene into a funny, frantic fight, one that Dennis wins when his vampire side bursts forth as Winnie the werewolf pup (Sandler) is injured by a gargoyle.

As funny as Hotel Transylvania 2 is (I laughed several times) it doesn’t quite come up to being as good as the original, though it tries hard. I wanted to see more of Fran Drescher as the Bride of Frankenstein than just a cameo. Molly Shannon had a bigger part as Wanda the werewolf, wife of Wayne and mother of a huge litter of pups. Still Robert Smigel and Adam Sandler did some great writing for this movie. When Mavis destroys a piñata at the party, Wanda warns her about candy and her pups but, too late. The pups devour all the candy and become supercharged with energy, trash the bounce house and anything else they run into. “There’s a reason they call it a litter,” says Wayne.

The 3D effects were put to good use in the several flying scenes and the concept of Frankenstein, the mummy, and the werewolf all getting out of practice at being scary as they aged was hilarious. The comedy is just sophisticated enough for adults and there are many scenes with visual comedy for kids. It’s the second best performance by Sandler. The first was the original.

Rating: 4 out of 5 Martini glasses.

Chevalier

30 West 53^rd St. (between 6^th and 5^th Avenues), New York

www.baccarathotels.com/dining/chevalier

After Indian, French cuisine is my second favorite gustatory delight. And I must be crazy about it, because New York was experiencing a “Noreaster,” a rain event with wind gusts of up to 40 miles per hour, and I had to fight the elements from 42^nd Street to 53^rd to get to my dinner. Fortunately, it was not a downpour and I had my London Fog coat.

I arrived relatively unscathed at the Baccarat Hotel (no, I’ve never heard of it either) where Chevalier has its own separate entrance. It’s elegant and simple, just the name in script written vertically up a black wall and lit in white light. Through two glass doors we find the Captain’s Station and a small bar with a few tables. All is shades of off-white, pearl and gray. The young lady noted my reservation and another took my coat, umbrella and baggage, and I followed the first one around the bar and into the main dining area and to my table. The room is high ceilinged and the same color scheme as the bar, except the walls have opalescent panels adding a gentle blush to the décor and the carpet and wall banquettes are a rosy tan. There are twin urns of magnolia branches and orange Amaryllis at either end of the room and a wall of wine bottles lit in red behind the first.

A mature gentleman presented me with the wine list, took my water preference and asked if I would like a cocktail. I made my standard Groucho Marx joke about getting out of these wet things and into a dry martini, and he smiled. But upon learning from him that the only gins they had were Bombay Sapphire and Hendricks (yuck!), I ordered a Stolichnaya vodka martini instead. Usually gin-less restaurants make an abysmal vodka martini, but this one was impressively good, chilled perfectly and without bruised ice floating in it.

My server, Satomi, presented me with the food menu and was very patient with me, as I took longer than usual to decide. Meanwhile, another server brought me a pre-appetizer plate of three Lilliputian delicacies. One was a puff pastry made with salmon roe and topped with the same, the second was a little brown crunchy pyramid made with goat cheese and the third resembled a tiny Linzer tart but was neither cookie nor cherry.

The menu was set up as a prix fixe of two or three courses (including dessert). There were two appetizers that called to me and that meant adding a course, which Satomi said could easily be done. There were Starters, Sides, Mains and Desserts, with a special category of dishes that could be shared at table. I had my first two dishes chosen but was interested in three different main courses. The young man at the next table had the pork loin (I learned this from another server) and it looked very appetizing. The Atlantic black cod with a curry flavor also intrigued me. But given the choice, Satomi chose the duck dish, so did I.

While Satomi went to register my order, the Amuse Bouche arrived. It was a sushi-quality slice of Hamachi (Amberjack) resting on a paper-thin slice of cucumber in a parsley sauce and topped with a sprig of frisé. Light, delicate and delicious. I was considering the wine I would choose and inwardly was hysterical at the outrageous prices. Page after page, the wines were uniformly over $200 each, some over $2,000! I was near the end of the wine list when the same gentleman appeared at my table asking what I was interested in. I told him I love a full-bodied red, but was unwilling to purchase any over $100, for no wine is worth more than that. Surprisingly, he was unflappable at that revelation and directed me to a 2013 Gigondas, Domaine Du Grapillon D’Or (French, of course) that was perfect for both my tastes and my pocketbook.

The bread arrived next, still warm from the oven with a ramekin of fresh butter. I learned that all of the bread was made in their kitchen, from the mini baguettes I now had to the olive bread and sour dough I had later. All were excellent.

It was time for the first dish. The pan-seared foie gras with black figs, sauternes gastrique and pain d’epices (literally spice bread, actually gingerbread) was heavenly but the little dish of paté under a sweet fruit topping was erotic. I tried it alone and in combination with the other ingredients and it was always amazing. My lovely red wine was a delicious companion to this and all my other dishes.

Next on my choices was the homemade tortellini stuffed with wild mushrooms and snowed under by three cheesy foams that had my senses reeling. Satomi saw me roll my eyes while eating this dish and smiled appreciatively.

My main course was duck breast beautifully grilled with turnip, lavender and a Medjool date purée. The duck was tender and juicy, sweet and savory and, sided with a fabulous mushrooms fricassée, a celebration of autumn. I had the olive bread and sour dough with this dish and they helped to get every drop of sauce.

By this time I was praising Chef Shea Gallante to seventh heaven, but Satomi reminded me of the dessert still to come. I chose the Valhrona Chocolate Soufflé with Grand Marnier Crème Anglaise and a pot of Earl Grey tea: one to stimulate the pleasure center and the other to calm it down. Both worked.

It’s been a long time since I’ve dined at a classic French brasserie and it was refreshing to know that some still exist. There are many restaurants in New York calling themselves a “brasserie,” but they neither live up to the title nor are they French (I recall one in particular, downtown, where they gave me blank stares when I pronounced the dishes in correct French). The Baccarat Hotel only opened on Bastille Day, July 14. That would make Chevalier almost three months old. They already have a Michelin star chef, hopefully they will last a good long time. There are two more dishes I want to try.

For the Dinner and a Movie archive, click here.

TCM TiVo Alert for October 8-14

TCM TiVo ALERT

For

October 8–October 14

DAVID’S BEST BETS:

STRANGERS ON A TRAIN (October 12, 11:30 am): This is one of Alfred Hitchcock's best films and that is saying a lot. Robert Walker as the crazed Bruno Anthony is hypnotically amazing. His character wants his father dead and believes he's struck a quid pro quo deal with tennis player Guy Haines (Farley Granger). Walker and Granger were solid actors, but Hitch brought out the best in them. Also, the plot of this film is unique and interesting. The two are strangers who meet on a train, talk about solving their problems, namely Walker's father and Haines' wife. Walker suggests they kill the other's problem and no one will be the wiser as they don't know each other. Haines thinks Walker is kidding until the latter kills the former's wife and wants Haines to kill Walker's father. The tension and drama are top-shelf.

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (October 14, 12:00 am): My recommendation of this 1971 dystopian film comes with a caveat – only watch it once. The film is absolutely brilliant, but it's also incredibly disturbing and violent. I was blown away the first time I saw it years ago. I've had several other opportunities to watch it and simply can't make it through the first 20 minutes. It's on Netflix so I can watch it anytime I want, but again, I can't get through it. However, if you've never seen it before, watch it. It's horrifying in parts, but the story is told so well and the acting is superb. Alex (Malcolm McDowell) is the leader of the Droogs, a gang of thugs who get high on drug-laced milk and then terrorize London with "a little of the old ultraviolence," They brutally beat up, rape and/or kill arbitrary people for kicks (pun intended). The scenes are graphic, but some include a bit of entertainment. You'll never hear the song "Singin' in the Rain" the same way again. Alex is caught by the authorities and agrees to go through a process to remove his violent behavior by being repeatedly exposed to graphically violent scenes. He's then sent out into the world without the ability to defend himself, and payback is a bitch. Director Stanley Kubrick points the finger at people and government for society's violence and its failings. It's very well done, but be warned again, it's deeply disturbing. 

ED’S BEST BETS:

THE GENERAL (October 9, 6:00 am): Buster Keaton’s at his absolute height in this tale of a Confederate engineer whose train, “The General,” is stolen by Yankee spies. He must get it back, which leads to a riotous chase through the Southern countryside. There’s another reason he must get it back - his girl, Annabelle Lee (Marion Mack), is aboard that train. She believes Johnnie (Buster) to be a coward because he’s not fighting in the war, but the authorities turned him down, believing he’ll serve the war effort better as an engineer. He grabs “The Texas” and begins chasing his beloved train. Filled with sight gags aplenty, the film never lets up for a minute. It’s a “must see” for those who haven’t yet seen it, and a “must see again” for those who have. A classic no matter how one cuts it.

X THE UNKNOWN (October 10, 11:45 am): Hammer made some really good science fiction movies in the 50s and 60s. This one moves from an absurd premise – intelligent mud from deep in the earth is looking for energy to feed on and sucks us completely in with an intelligent script from Jimmy Sangster, intelligent acting from star Dean Jagger and (especially) Leo McKern, and decent, considering the budget, special effects. It’s the first of the “blob” movies. Watch for Anthony Newley and Ian McNaughton as a pair of comic relief soldiers that later fall victim to the blob. McNaughton went to on produce Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

WE DISAGREE ON ... ADAM’S RIB (October 11, 6:00 pm)

ED: B. Of all the films Tracy and Hepburn collaborated on, this is one of the better efforts, a cheeky romp written especially for them by the husband and wife team of Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin. Add the smooth direction of George Cukor and some wonderful performances by the supporting cast, and this case of married lawyers battling in the courtroom and later at home becomes a harmless and enjoyable way to spend around two hours. In any film dealing with the battle of the sexes one must tread carefully to keep the comedy fresh and funny, which is why Cukor was the perfect choice to direct. He knows when to proceed and when to take the reins in. Tracy is magnificent as Adam Bonner, who sees wife Amanda as perverting the course of justice by using this case as a forum for women's rights instead of a cut-and-dried case of attempted murder. It would be easy to cross the mine and present Adam simply as a misogynist or a curmudgeonly traditionalist. The genius of Gordon and Kanin was instead to portray Adam as a lawyer who refused to see the case beyond what it essentially was: a case against vigilantism and no more. As mentioned earlier, a wonderful supporting cast helps the film, with David Wayne, Tom Ewell, Jean Hagen, and especially Judy Holliday (her performance here led to her being signed to play Billie Dawn in Born Yesterday, which won her the Oscar), providing performances that only caused the leads, in particular Hepburn, who needs someone strong to play off, to up the volume, as it were, instead of simply coasting. It also provides Tracy with one of the best lines in the history of cinema: “Licorice, mmmm. If there's anything I'm a sucker for, it's licorice." Is it a great film? Not really. But is it an enjoyable one? Yes.

DAVID: C-. Despite some amusing moments and a strong performance by Judy Holliday as the ditsy wife who is the defendant in the criminal case at the center of this film, there isn't a lot to enjoy. As I've written numerous times, Katharine Hepburn is cinema's most overrated actress. While Spencer Tracy was an extremely talented actor, he was often dragged down to his former lover's level in the films they did together. This is no exception. In this "battle of the sexes" comedy, Adam Bonner (Tracy) is a prosecuting attorney and his wife, Amanda (Hepburn), is a defense attorney. She is outraged that a woman (Holliday) was charged with attempting to murder her two-timing husband, who she shoots but doesn't kill. Amanda believes that if the roles were reversed a man would not face a similar charge. She maneuvers to defend the woman pro bono while Adam prosecutes the case. As Bosley Crowther, in a largely positive review of the film in late 1949 for The New York Times, wrote: "To be sure, the plot is a frail one and the argument is not profound. As a matter of fact, it gets quite fuzzy and vagrant as the picture goes along. And that is the one plain weakness of the whole thing: it is but a spoof, and the authors are forced to wild devices and shallow nonsense to wind it up." Crowther is too polite. I realize it's supposed to be a comedy, but Hepburn's acting goes even more over-the-top than usual. That makes for a rather implausible story and, quite frankly, a film very difficult to enjoy. The antics Amanda pulls in the courtroom makes a mockery of feminism. To call it a timeless classic – and while Ed doesn't call it one, other critics do – is ridiculous as its humor doesn't hold up well today. I wasn't around in 1949, but I'm sure I wouldn't have found it funny then either.

For the complete list of films on the TCM TiVo Alert, click here.

Cleopatra Jones

The Psychotronic Zone

By Ed Garea

Cleopatra Jones (WB, 1973) – Director: Jack Starrett. Writers: Max Julien (story and s/p), Sheldon Keller (s/p). Cast: Tamara Dobson, Bernie Casey, Shelley Winters, Brenda Sykes, Antonio Fargas, Dan Frazer, Bill McKinney, Stafford Morgan, Michael Warren, Albert Popwell, Caro Kenyatta, Esther Rolle, Keith Hamilton, Jay Montgomery, Arnold Dover, Teddy Wilson, George Reynolds, & Angela Elayne Gibbs. Color, 89 minutes, PG.

Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold (WB, Shaw Brothers, 1975) – Director: Charles Bail. Writers: William Tennant (s/p), Max Julien (characters). Cast: Tamara Dobson, Stella Stevens, Ni Tien, Norman Fell, Albert Popwell, Caro Kenyatta, Shen Chan, Christopher Hunt, Chen Chi Lin, Locke Hua Liu, Eddy Donno, Bobby Canavarro, Mui Kwok Sing, John Cheung, & Kung-Wu Huang. Color, 94 minutes, PG.

When it first exploded onto movie screens in the early ‘70s, Blaxploitation was a Man’s World. Characters such as Shaft, Superfly and Slaughter ruled, fighting crime, corruption and The Man. Women, for their part, were relegated to the background, playing casual girlfriends, dope fiends, hookers, and victims working for the Mob, The Man, and/or the White Power structure.

Suddenly, along came Pam Grier and the playing field changed. Grier, who cut her teeth in the exploitation genre with films like The Big Doll House, Women in Cages, The Big Bird Cage, and Black Mama, White Mama, starred in the low-budget breakout hit Coffy from American International. Made for $500,000, it cleared more than $2 million in during its first run. Grier was a heroine for the times. A marvelously stacked 5’8”, she possessed a magnificent pair of knockers that she wasn’t afraid to display on the screen. She wasn’t much of an actress at the time, but then she didn’t have to be; she was a presence. With time she developed into a fine actress. Those who don’t believe me should take a gander at her work in Quentin Tarantino’s homage to both Pam and Blaxploitation, Jackie Brown.

One month to the day after Coffy made its debut (June 13, 1973), along came Cleopatra Jones, made by Warner Brothers. The screenplay was written by actor/writer Max Julien (The Mack), who was also responsible for the story. Julien’s original idea was to star his then-girlfriend, Vonetta McGee, but the studio nixed her in the part. A search was undertaken with the help of Julien, and Tamara Dobson, a 6’2” Vogue model, who had a few minor film credits, was chosen. While she wasn’t quite Pam Grier (Who is?), her statuesque frame led to the film’s tag line: “6 foot 2 inches of dynamite.”

Not taking any chances, the studio brought in veteran TV writer Sheldon Keller (The Dick Van Dyke Show, M*A*S*H) to lighten the tone of the script. Jack Strrett (Slaughter) was brought in to direct.

The plot of the film is simple; in fact, all the main lines are laid out in the first few minutes, and except for the addition of a few minor characters, it doesn’t deviate from that straight line. It begins as the film opens. Special Agent to the President Cleopatra Jones steps off a plane somewhere in Turkey. (She works undercover for the U.S. government aside from her regular gig as a supermodel.) Turkish army officials are there to meet her. They have located a huge field of opium poppies, which at Cleo’s signal, is put to the torch. Cut back to Los Angeles and we discover that LA drug lord Mommy (Winters) owns the poppy field, and is she mad when she gets the news. After a minute or so of chewing the scenery, Mommy gets an idea. She’ll phone her “boys” in the LAPD to raid the B&S House, which Cleo’s boyfriend, Reuben (Casey) runs as a halfway house for recovering addicts.

When Cleo hears what Mommy’s done, she sets out for LA, and the rest of the film will be a battle between Cleo and Mommy and her minions. Both have allies on the police force and both have outside forces they can call upon for help. In Cleo’s case it’s a couple of karate ass-kicking brothers named Matthew (Popwell) and Melvin (Kenyatta) Johnson. They are the sons of a friend of Cleo’s, Mrs. Johnson (Rolle), who runs an eatery in the old neighborhood with a dice game going in the back. She also has an ally named Andy (Warren), a championship dirt-bike racer whose appearance at a bike meet gives Cleo a chance to show off her superior biking skills. Director Starrett is employing a sledgehammer approach to let the audience know exactly how cool Cleopatra Jones is.

In Mommy’s case, she has the dubious assistance of local pusher Doodlebug Simkins (Fargas), and his toadies, a pair of comic henchmen named Pickle (Wilson) and Plug (Reynolds), along with a white butler named Mattingly (Mattingly). Doodlebug, however, is also plotting to overthrow Mommy and become the main pusher.

The plot unravels in multiple shootouts, standoffs, and car chases, with Cleo slowly closing in on Mommy until the final confrontation at an auto junkyard, where she finally disposes of Mommy by knocking her into a car compactor. She and her allies collect the members of Mommy’s gang and throw them into a garbage truck (how’s that for symbolism) for delivery to the police.

In most cases with films such as this, characters are secondary to plot. Here, it’s reversed. This is a big cartoon strip of a movie, and is clearly filmed with tongue firmly planted in cheek. Cleo is clearly the distaff version of James Bond. She carries a card (embossed, yet) declaring her to be a Special Agent to the President, but that’s all the details we’re going to receive. As Bond drove an Aston-Martin, Cleo drives a Corvette with the license plate “CLEO 1,” in case the bad guys should ever lose her. Not that any of this matters, because the heels can’t catch up to her anyway, though they don’t give up trying. Car chases are an essential part of action films, and this one has one great big chase after Cleo disembarks at the L.A. airport. After a shootout in the baggage claim area, Cleo escapes and tolls down the road in her custom ’73 Corvette with the minions in hot pursuit, as they speed through the streets of L.A., down into the riverbed, and back again. In the end, Cleo has no trouble shaking them and killing off a few while she’s at it.

If it should come to a shootout, Cleo is fully prepared, as she has an arsenal hidden inside the door panels of her ‘Vette. And should it come down to one on one, never fear, for Cleo is an expert in karate. This girl has it all, including the ability to change into different stunning outfits almost at will, each of which magnificently displays her statuesque 6’2” figure. As Cleo strolls down the street, men of every race and age cannot help be bedazzled by her beauty.

A super hero such as Cleopatra Jones needs an equally super villain, and Cleo has one in the aforementioned Mommy. Shelly Winters plays Mommy with all the enthusiasm of a seasoned ham, chewing each piece of scenery and making the most of every line of dialogue. Winters is experienced enough – and smart enough – to realize that a super hero such as Cleo needs an over-the-top villain to play against, otherwise the film rapidly loses its momentum and sense of fun. We can laugh and sneer at her performance, but if she doesn’t lay it on thick, the film will become boring. And Mommy is one of Shelley’s great hysterical performances, screeching displeasure when one of her inept henchmen screws up, punching one out and taking a bullwhip to another. She is also the anti-Cleopatra, modeling a wardrobe of absolutely hideous clothing (plus an assortment of fright wigs to wear in almost every scene).

But there’s another way in which Shelly is the anti-Cleopatra, and that is in the role of sexuality. Cleo is heterosexual, while Mommy is an aggressive lesbian. Cleo’s male helpers are all strong and competent, while Mommy’s male henchmen are weak and inept. The only male around Mommy who’s even somewhat on the ball is Doodlebug, and he’s plotting to whack her and take over the business. During the course of the film, there’s a running gag of sorts where Mommy loses it after her boys screw up. At this point, one of her female helpers comes in to offer Mommy a soothing brandy or something equally nice. As she accepts it, she turns to the young lady and says, “Oh, Eve (or Annie, or Ursula, yada, yada, yada), you’re the only one around here who understands Mommy.” As the woman leaves, Mommy gives her a big squeeze of the butt.

The other males Cleo and Mommy must deal with are the police, most of whom are seen as corrupt. One in particular is a nasty piece of work named Purdy (McKinney), who leads the raid on Reuben’s halfway house. Bill McKinney made a good living playing despicable country villains in such films as Deliverance, Cannonball Run, and Junior Bonner. Here he has a Southern accent, rather odd for an L.A. patrolman, but it gets the point across. His loathing of blacks is shown during the raid on the halfway house when he attempts to shoot one of the recovering addicts in the back. When questioned by Cleo as to who was responsible for the raid, he replies, “I wouldn’t lift a finger to help you or any of your kind.” There is a later scene where Cleo’s crew has him under observation, and we see him going into a porno theater. The only cops Cleo can trust are Captain Crawford (Frazer), and his aide, Sergeant Kert (Morgan), and she learns at the end that she can’t trust Morgan, as he turns out to be Mommy’s source of information.

In B action films, the supporting heels disappear as we get close to the end. Before one of Mommy’s henchmen, Snake (Joy), gets his, he pleads with Cleo not to “rip his doubleknits” before she trashes his suit. Doodlebug also gets his at the hands of Mommy. After he meets a particularly gruesome end, Mommy dispatches her goons to silence his girlfriend, Tiffany (Sykes), who survives the hit. It’s up to Cleo to find her before Mommy’s goons do.

The climax occurs in an auto junkyard (fitting when one thinks about it). Cleo is trapped in a car rusher, but her crew rescues her in the nick of time. The final showdown sees Cleo chasing Mommy to the top of a magnetic crane, from which Cleo hurls Mommy down to her death, while Cleo’s crew mops up the henchmen, throwing them into the back of a garbage truck as the police conveniently show up. As Reuben and the crew celebrate their victory, Cleo departs the scene. She has important work to do in stemming the flow of drugs into the community.

In spite of its outrageousness – or because of it – Cleopatra Jones is an enjoyable film. Screenwriters Max Julien and Sheldon Keller, along with director Jack Starrett have stocked the film with a solid assortment of incidental characters, each of which has a distinct personality and is given some good dialogue. Although beholden to the formula for these sorts of films, they manage to inject some humor and a few nice plot twists along the way. While the film shows the harsh conditions found in the ghetto, it also gives us a united community where the members help and support one another.

As Jones, Dobson cuts a fine figure, and Starrett makes the most of her obvious physical assets to get the character over. It is said to be the first Blaxploitation film to employ martial arts as part of its promotion. (Yvonne D. Sims, Women of Blaxploitation, McFarland & Company, 2006). Aimed at the action movie audience, its identification of its heroine with James Bond has been noted by several critics. While Jones is presented as very feminine, the film also emphasizes her talent at traditional male endeavors such as driving and combat, where she is seen as the equal of, if not superior to, the men. Radio ads proclaimed, "She handles a car like she handles a gun, she handles a gun like she handles a man, and she handles a man like Cleopatra!"

While Jones is fighting it out with Mommy and her henchmen, she still enjoys a loving relationship with Reuben, who is portrayed as a strong male character, sensitive enough to care for his halfway house denizens, and tough enough to actively help Cleo in her fight.

Another way the film differs from other Blaxploitation films with female leads is the absence of nude scenes. According to Sims, Dobson refused to do nude scenes in order to separate herself from the “hypersexuality” of the other black heroines. During a love scene with Reuben, the two share a long, intimate kiss rather than passionately making love, emphasizing love and intimacy rather than lust.

Dobson handles the role of Cleopatra Jones well. She’s convincing in the fight scenes and handles her other scenes well, displaying a decent acting range. She lack the presence of a Pam Grier, but director Starrett’s ingenious use of the supporting cast more than compensates. As her lover, Reuben Masters, Casey also turns in a decent performance. For his part as Doodlebug, Fargas is not too far removed from his recurring role as “Huggy Bear” in the TV series Starsky & Hutch. His main attributes are his obvious untrustworthiness and an ability to chew scenery with the best of them. And what can we say about Shelley Winters? Without her exaggerated performance this film would be a lot less entertaining.

Starrett’s direction is fine. He was well-regarded in the field of B action movies, known as a director smart enough to let the actors do their thing while keeping his interference to a minimum. He also acted upon occasion, with his most famous part being that of Gabby Johnson in Mel Brooks’s Blazing Saddles.

The soundtrack by jazz trombonist J. J. Johnson sounds like something out of a TV-urban-cop show. It proved to be popular with audiences, selling in excess of 500,000 copies. The film itself was a box office success. It grossed more than $100,000 during its first week and climbed to $400,000 by its fifth week. All in all, it made over $3,250,000 for the studio.

Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold was released in 1975 to poor reviews and sparse box office. The attendance was blamed on everything from poor reviews to the decline of the blaxploitation genre, but the real cause was that the film just wasn’t that entertaining.

Dobson reprises her role as Cleo. This time around, Matthew and Melvin Johnson are taken captive in Hong Kong while working undercover for the U.S. government. Cleo learns that they have been captured by a powerful drug lord known as the Dragon Lady (Stevens) and sets out for Hong Kong to free them and bring the Dragon Lady to justice. Supervisory agent Stanley Nagel (Fell) meets her at the airport and explains the lay of the land. He also arranges for private detective Mi Ling Fong (Tanny) to accompany her.

As with the original, this is a odd combination of black empowerment and martial arts, with homophobia thrown in for good measure, as the Dragon Lady, like Mommy, is an aggressive lesbian. It all climaxes in the Dragon Lady’s casino/headquarters with her in a one-on-one showdown with Cleo while Fong and her allies clean up the Dragon Lady’s henchmen, while the Johnson Brothers are rescued and join in the fun.  Afterward Nagel reveals to Cleo that Mi Ling is actually an undercover government agent who, along with her crew, was assigned to help Cleo take down the nefarious Dragon Lady.

While the film contains the usual one-liners and comedy, the frequent wardrobe changes by the star, and plenty of action, it fails because of the failure of Stevens to play the role over-the-top. Her rather muted performance takes away from the film’s outrageousness, making it into another run-of-the mill B actioner. The poor box office also scuttled plans to turn the film into a TV series. 

Dobson returned to modeling, living in New York City until the diagnosis of multiple sclerosis necessitated a return to her native Baltimore and the care of her family. She passed away at the young age of 59 on October 2, 2006. He character, though, continued on in popular culture, being honored in Mike Myers’s 2002 spy spoof, Austin Powers in Goldmember, in which Beyonce Knowles co-starred as undercover FBI agent Foxxy Cleopatra.

Black Mass

Dinner and a Movie

Black Basque

By Steve Herte

Black Mass (WB, 2015) – Director: Scott Cooper. Writers: Mark Mallouk & Jez Butterworth (s/p). Dick Lehr & Gerard O’Neill (book). Cast: Johnny Depp, Joel Edgerton, Benedict Cumberbatch, Dakota Johnson, Kevin Bacon, Peter Sarsgaard, Jesse Plemons, Rory Cochrane, David Harbour, Adam Scott, Corey Stoll, Julianne Nicholson, W. Earl Brown, Bill Camp, Juno Temple, Mary Klug, David De Beck, & Luke Ryan. Color, Rated R, 122 minutes.

“Don’t call him ‘Whitey.’ He doesn’t like to be called that.” Extremely good advice.

Were it not for the lead actor in this film, I probably would not have seen it, and I would have been much the worse for that mistake. I admit, I haven’t followed Johnny Depp’s career from its inception (he only caught my attention with Edward Scissorhands in 1990) but since then I’ve become a pretty avid fan. For me, he’s the new Lon Chaney, the man of a thousand faces, and this latest role is such a diametrical departure from Captain Jack Sparrow, I had to see it. I didn’t even recognize him from the trailers. Otherwise, gangster films are not my cup of tea.

In a way, this film begins at the end and goes forward, depending on the answers to police interrogations of Kevin Weeks (Plemons) and Steve Flemmi (Cochrane) and various members of the Winter Hill Gang after their capture.

Fresh out of Alcatraz, Jimmy (Whitey) Bulger (Depp) returns to his childhood neighborhood and rejoins his cronies in South Boston. He’s devoted to his mother (Klug) – even though he believes she cheats at bridge – and he loves his wife Lindsey (Johnson) and young son Douglas (Ryan). His organization – if you can call it that, alternately known as the Irish Mob – gets its main funding from loan sharking and vending machine concessions. Both operations are in direct competition with the Italian counterpart in the North End run by the Angiulo family, who have ties to the Mafia. Both groups control the streets of Boston in 1975 but the north is starting to invade the south.

Enter, FBI Agent John Connolly (Edgerton) who grew up with Bulger, and he has a plan. He knows Jimmy would like to eliminate his competition and, since he’s the only person who can make an alliance with him and have it not sound like he’s “ratting” anyone out (Jimmy may be a second-rate criminal, but he’s no rat), he meets with Jimmy and gets him to agree. For obtaining information leading to the arrest of the Angiulo brothers, the Winter Hill Gang will be protected from any backlash and cleared of any wrongdoing.

John involves Jimmy’s brother, Billy (Cumberbatch), a Massachusetts senator and currently the most powerful man in town on the deal and eventually convinces his boss, Charles McGuire (Bacon) that the scheme will work. John’s best friend and co-worker, John Morris (Harbour) loyally backs Connolly up on every stage. But John totally misjudges Jimmy. Bad idea.

Jimmy fills in his right-hand man, Steve Femmi, on this unusual opportunity – who, by the way, is naturally suspicious of working with the FBI – and he translates it as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Steve would normally follow Jimmy blindly, but when he hears that not only would they have the police fighting their battles for them, they could do whatever they please, he’s in. With Kevin, they “remove” the lesser members of the Italian mob while doing photo surveillance on a possible hideout. But just when McGuire thinks Jimmy’s not holding up his end of the deal and berates Connolly for making it, John strolls in with an envelope full of eight-by-ten photos of the Arguilo hide-out, they get a tape of the brothers plotting a hit, and they are able to corner and capture the entire gang.

That leaves the Winter Hill Gang now free to expand into drug dealing and eventually the jai alai betting based in Florida. (All this and Heaven too, without repercussions.) One member of the gang, Brian Halloran (Sarsgaard), feels free enough to shoot two enemies at his table in a busy restaurant and calmly walk out.

But no one is as coldly violent or as explosive as is Jimmy. When he loses his son to Reye syndrome, it breaks up his marriage (he blames his wife for not taking Douglas to the doctor immediately). Subsequently, his mother dies, and he can’t even be one of the pallbearers – he’s too public a figure. He now loses all restraints. Anyone that can possibly stand in his way is murdered. He strangles Steve’s prostitute stepdaughter in front of him and commands him to “clean up your mess” after they pick her up at the police station. It’s a new reign of terror.

Fred Wyshak (Stoll), a righteous hotshot prosecutor, arrives at South Boston police station wondering why Jimmy Bulger has not been arrested for his various crimes. John Connolly tries to explain, but to no avail. He tries to get Billy’s help, but Billy has to think of his own career and future and calmly throws him out of his office.

Things go from bad to worse when Jimmy has John Martorano (Brown) gun down Roger Wheeler (De Beck), a Tulsa businessman who had the misfortune of buying the World Jai Alai contract, a killing easily linked to Jimmy. And then, learning of the struggles in Ireland, he arranges for a shipload of guns to be sent to the Irish Republican Army on the Valhalla – which is stopped at the port by Irish customs. This is also easily linked to the Winter Hill Gang. Wyshak and McGuire investigate Connolly’s doings with Jimmy and it leads to Morris’ revelation of the true nature of the “alliance.”

The story of “Jimmy Bulger, Informant to the FBI” is deliberately leaked to the Boston Globe in 1995 and Jimmy realizes that his days in Boston are numbered. He leaves Boston and his gang members are arrested one by one – which brings us back to the beginning.

Black Mass is a powerful movie based on a true story and is a fancy metaphor for the “Unholy Alliance” made between an FBI agent and a mob boss. Although the acting is excellent throughout the cast, Depp is terrifyingly superb. I actually believed he’d shoot me if I looked at him the wrong way. The make-up department did such a good job, that, when asked, several of Bulger’s surviving gang members saw him and remarked, “That’s Whitey!” The only time I could see how thick the make-up was, was in an indoor close-up. Otherwise, it was great. It seemed like a role rehearsed so perfectly that it would be difficult to come out of it and just be Depp again.

At two hours and two minutes, this film had no dead spots, no shifting in the seat (but that could have just been the comfy plush leather rockers in the Chelsea Bow Tie Cinemas). It was either extreme tension or action, supported by a beautifully orchestrated soundtrack, with lots of gore and tons of vulgarity – definitely not for kids. In fact, if the “f” word were removed from it, there would only be 16 minutes of dialogue left.

As my readers know, I look for the “Wow!” factor in any movie and this one had it in spades. I see a definite Best Actor nomination coming for Depp in the next Academy Awards. And as in the old TV police dramas, there are brief descriptions at the end of the movie that tell the audience what happened to the major characters. I wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t until 2011 that the police caught up with and arrested Bulger in Santa Monica, California. Wow!

Rating: 4 out of 5 Martini glasses.

Txikito (pronounced, “Chih – key – toe”)

240 9^th Ave. (between 24^th and 25^th Streets), New York

www.txikitonyc.com

Did you know that West 24^th Street in Manhattan makes an “s” curve between 8^th and 9^th Avenues? Neither did I until I walked from the theater to Txikito. Located in the middle of a mini strip mall, it was almost “miss-able.” All the shops have matching black borders above the entrances with the names of the establishments in white script. It was a lovely evening, weather-wise and Txikito was fully open to the sidewalk with a few blonde-wood tables outside the restaurant proper.

Inside, all is ponderous wood paneling and bright red tabletops lit by three cylindrical swags over the bar on the right and circular sconces on the walls. There are also votive candles on each table. When I announced my reservation at the Captain’s Station, which was at the end of the bar, the young lady gave me a choice of a seat at the bar, a table next to the bar, or one in back. I chose the latter. From my viewpoint, the heavy wood on the walls made it seem like I was a passenger on a sturdy old-time sailing ship (except for the view of 9^th Avenue out the front).

The name, pronounced exactly like the Spanish “chiquito” means “little one,” and in this case, refers to a small glass of wine. Shortly after I was seated, my server, Amy, arrived with a pitcher of water and the menu card (food on one side, drinks on the other). I confirmed with her the correct sound of the restaurant name and learned that it’s been seven years since they opened.

After an appropriate amount of time, Amy asked if I wanted a cocktail and I chose the El Cantábrico (Bay of Biscay) – Greenhook Old Tom gin, Aperol, Sweet Vermouth, Fever Tree ginger beer, and lemon. I would guess that the servers here have very little problem with spilling drinks when Amy served mine in a half-filled plastic tumbler, which would have worked very well as a water glass. The main flavor of the drink came from the ginger beer and a slight kick from the gin, a refreshing start.

The food menu had classifications in Basque: Para Picar (for picking or choosing), Pintxos (small plates or appetizers, both cold and hot), Verduras y Ensaladas (greens and salads), Del Mar (from the sea), and Carnes (meat dishes). There was, oddly, no side-dish category. But this was easily cleared up later, and logically so. Basque country is situated between Spain and France and the cuisine has influences from both. Here, the Spanish “tapas” is the rule and a vegetable pintxo could double as a side.

Before I delved into the menu, Amy listed the specials for the day, which were written on a blackboard at the front of the bar and thus unreadable from my viewpoint. She then left me to decide. Upon her return, I was ready with three courses. She assured me that I hadn’t chosen too much food. For the wine, I chose a Spanish varietal, the 2009 Basilio Izquierdo “Acodo,” a lovely blend of rioja, tempranillo and garnacha. Up until Amy uncorked it, I had wondered what the little shelf above my table on the wall was for. After she poured and I tasted the excellent red, she placed both the bottle and the tumbler (yes, a very informal glass) on the metal shelf. The wine was a pleasant ruby color and a light tannin flavor with a tart grapy overtone that eventually would match the dishes I chose. The only drawback was that it was a little too cool in temperature for a red.

While I waited for the wine to breathe the appetizer arrived. The Txangurro a la Donostiarra (Donosti style crab) – a “montadito” (a flavorful topping “riding” on a slice of baguette) of deviled crab – was a mouth-watering enigma. I didn’t know if it was finger-food or to be eaten with knife and fork. It turns out that either is correct. The finely chopped crabmeat was mixed with Spanish paprika and other spices and was delightful no matter how you ate it.

The next course was one of the specials and was classified as salad. The Conejo (rabbit) was a corn salad with rabbit meat pulled off the bone in sofrito pepper sauce (tomatoes, onion, garlic and oil). It was as colorful as it was delicious, with the yellow corn, the pale beige meat, the green parsley garnish and the reddish-brown sauce. The slightly spicy sauce added interest to the sweet corn and savory rabbit.

My main course was also the size of a “tapas” (surprise!) and I chose it because I’ve not had beef tongue in over 20 years. (It’s one of those things you actually liked as a child, or not.) The Lengua, three thin slices of crispy-coated beef tongue with mustard Española and cornichons (gerkins) was as much a surprise to my taste buds as it was to my eyes. The meat was so thinly sliced I really could not get the flavor I remembered but there was no doubt about the Spanish mustard’s sting. The cornichons flavor combined to give an eggplant-like taste to the dish, which was intriguing. Upon finishing it though, I was ready for more food.

It was time for Amy to help. She asked if I wanted to “add on” dishes before I could say it. After determining that there were two categories on the menu I hadn’t ordered from we chose the Láminas de Setas – thinly sliced King Oyster mushrooms, garlic/oil, Marcona almonds and Roncal (a cheese). This was easily the prettiest dish. Made golden by the all-encompassing sauce, the delicate, paper-thin slices of mushroom were placed like petals of a dahlia on the plate and were sprinkled in green, white and red by parsley, almonds and tomatoes. It only had a light woodsy flavor from the mushrooms, but blended with the garlic and slightly salty oil and the whole experience was a totally new delicacy for me.

Though there were several interesting desserts on the menu (separate from the main one) I chose the cheese plate, not only because I love cheese, but because it made me feel more continental. Arranged nicely on the plate were three wedge-shaped slices of cheese – two Spanish and one French – and a larger wedge of a fine French bleu cheese, accompanied by walnut halves and slices of quince jelly, and a plate of baguette slices. The French cheeses were more assertive in flavor and hence, more to my preference, but all were delicious. In fact, it’s the only dish I ate before taking a picture of it – greedy me.

Amy knew I would have a double espresso without my telling her and I chose the Patxaran – a sloe-flavored (plum) Basque liqueur from Navarre – as my after-dinner drink. How much of this wonderful meal was truly Basque, I would have to ask of a native of that country. It was only my third venture into the cuisine and the last one was many years ago. All I know is that I enjoyed every bite and sip. While I was finishing up, Amy came over and asked, “So what’s with all the lions?” (Referring to my rings, pendant and wallet cover.) “I’m a Leo!” “So am I!” “What month?” “July.” “Gee, there usually are more August Leos than July ones. What day?” “The 26th, me and Mick Jagger.” You could have knocked me over with a feather. Amy and I were born on the same day of the same month.

Restaurant 2,690 was complete with surprises, both gustatory and social. Chefs and co-owners Eder Montero and Alexandra Raij have been doing something remarkable over their seven years and I believe I will be back.

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