The Devil Commands (1941), Edward Dymtryk.

Long-winded claptrap! Terrible script, by Milton Gunzberg (who wrote almost nothing else) and Robert Hardy Andrews (who wrote "Tarzan Goes to India")! Too bad the devil never even shows up to this one. Boris Karloff goes off the deep end when his wife is killed in car accident - hooks up with humourless clairvoyant, blady blady blah. Don Miller, in his book B Movies (1987), indicated that Edward Dmytryk directed "some" scenes - and now I know what he and others meant when they speak of B-movies as a 9-5 job, thankless drudgery, and a professional ghetto to get out of. I was really hoping the deep-sea diver pictured above was writing "Why did my agent get me this part..."

Baby Face Morgan (1942), Arthur Driefuss.

Hil-ar-i-ous! Simple short flick by wonderfully named "Producers Releasing Corporation." (It's like they lacked the dough to even think up a good name). When mob loses its beloved leader Mike Morgan, the brains behind the operation seeks out a small town rube to act as a front and unite the old gang. Edward Morgan, played by Richard Cromwell, sits behind NYC (oops - Central City!) office desk of shell company and sells racket-proof insurance to small businesses! Apparently a kleig light is visible in one of the shots - I didn't notice it probably because I kept laughing out loud.

Sullivan's Travels (1941), Preston Sturges.

My first Sturges. A movie expostulating on what makes a good movie-- what people want. Hilarious, self-aware and impressively intelligent. I could see someone remaking this but easily going off message. Great follow up of Barbary Coast because here is Joel McCrea, not WASP miner but film director who travels among the little people as a big man, then becomes one of the little people himself. Great line, "but film directors don't go to prison!"