blitzkrieg (ˈblɪtsˌkriːɡ)
— n
a swift intensive military attack, esp using tanks supported by aircraft, designed to defeat the opposition quickly
“Blitzkrieg” being a word associated with both ze Germans and WWII, it follows by reason that Bowery Blitzkrieg continues what Flying Wild started. Let the Nazi face-punching commence! For indeed, what else could Bowery Blitzkrieg be but an epic amongst propagandistic epics, with the Nazis (never identified as such, but we know) running their war machine rampant through New York’s slums, a sort of 1941 Invasion U.S.A.? And only the East Side Kids can stop them! In my mind, this is one of the greatest things ever.
But I forgot the first rule of the East Side Kids franchise, that the titles hardly if ever reflect upon the film’s content. So, rather than Bowery Blitzkrieg being a Hitler-hatin’ hijink to end all Hitler-hatin’ hijinks, instead it is the most desultory and uninspiring East Side Kids film since, well, East Side Kids. It’s the usual last-ditch-effort miasma of juvenile delinquency, boxing, and adults bemoaning/praising the heroic no-longer-children East Side Kids. And the plots don’t even clearly coalesce until half way through.
Even so, the “East Side Kids” could still elevate such uselessness with their studied rapport – this is what the franchise has been built upon so far. Sadly, Bowery Blitzkrieg is Huntz Hall’s first East Side Kids film, as he starts the steady move over from Universal’s Little Tough Guys.
Sadly, this upsets the delicate balance the “East Side Kids” had developed. Previously, Leo Gorcey was the lone troupe member maintaining that Joisey tough guy attitude this whole cycle was founded upon with Dead End. The rest of his Monogram troupe understandably adopted distinct personas to act as foils to Gorcey’s Muggs McGinnis, a loud and tactless buffoon (and the lead). But Hall, schooled in the “Little Tough Guys” troupe most recently – a troupe taken to movie-long yelling matches amongst themselves, each trying to out-nasal each other in an unpleasant “shaddup a-ya doity face” pastiche – Hall feels the need to maintain this unentertaining competition with Gorcey in Bowery Blitzkrieg, which ain’t much fun for anyone. Hopefully, this imbalance shall be corrected in time – before an inevitable influx of more “Little Tough Guys” tips the balance into anti-charisma.
(The cheap “rely upon the actors to save the movie” approach – so far mostly successful in this series – no longer works as well with Hall shrieking his way through the picture. And the melodramatic turn Blitzkrieg takes, where the actors are supposed to emote through a vague drama, does not work with this approach.)
Without a clear focus like violence towards Germans to drive Bowery Blitzkrieg, rather the plot bifurcates rather unclearly almost immediately. Focusing upon Muggs, always the center of attention, he is yet again obsessed with taking up a boxing career. At least this characterization is consistent and sane, fitting in with Pride of the Bowery, though nothing new or exciting shall be done with it. Indeed, it’ll take far longer than narratively convenient to get Muggs signed up for a boxing tournament, and subsequently embroiled with a shyster wishing him to throw the fight. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Bobby Jordan’s Danny (today’s ever-shifting last name – Breslin) gets a subplot of his very own, reflecting the series’ earlier desires to ape Little Tough Guys and make its blandest member the everyman hero. (Hell, this part of the film may even be derived from an earlier abandoned script from that earlier East Side Kids phase.) Anyway, Danny’s story concerns his schooling…That’s it?! Oy! This is something of a non-starter, which is why Danny is soon seduced (in a totally non-sexual sense) by a non-East Side Kid kid, today’s driver of the ever-present series jalopy – Monk Martin (the enigmatic Bobby Stone, sometimes “East Side Kid” – but not today!). Monk introduces Danny to a budding career in ignorant crime abetting, and really it should not be more obvious to my 2010 tech age mindset than to someone ostensibly growing up in the slums.
The movie shortly forgets all about this stupid Danny plotline, and never mentions it again. So I shall do the same.
Another movie-wide thread for Bowery Blitzkrieg, of most recognizable variety: The adults’ endless concern for the long-term legal wellbeing of the various East Side Kids. They talk endlessly about the general criminality of today’s godforsaken youth – Was there ever a generation in history that didn’t roué the next generation as the end of mankind?! Whatever, this insistence rather ignores just how watered-down and homogenized the troupe has become ever since the days of the Dead End Kids. But just to be sure, dialogue continues to insist that these kids are devastated layabouts, but “they’re good kids.” (This quote appears in literally each entry.)
The standard 62 minutes allotted to all East Side Kids entries is mostly filled out by alternating between scenes of Muggs training, adults pining, and various comedic detours with the Kids I have not named. These are generally the most entertaining moments, despite Hall’s best efforts to prove otherwise.
But most of Bowery Blitzkrieg is melodrama, in a way I just cannot enjoy. For instance, a schism forms early on between Muggs and Danny, over an issue that is either completely unstated, or stated in so roundabout a way it is barely noticeable (it could also be some period-specific ‘40s thing no one would pick up on today). Now…maybe all this is vague, or it may just be that I am not terribly keen on reading emotion, connecting with emotion – I am a robot. (“Community’s” Abed has similar issues.) Of course, it’s just as likely most Monogram dramatic efforts are understated and poorly phrased, which is why the studio mostly attempted pulpy genre fare. But here comes the same mantra that embodies the whole of East Side Kids: the young actors make this all far better than it has any right to be.
It isn’t until the 3rd screen cap (or roughly the 25th minute mark) that Muggs has decidedly decided upon a definitive career in boxing – up ‘til now, he’s simply been doing a sort of 1941 Fight Club thing. This is at the instigation of kindhearted police officer Tom Brady (Warren Hull, in the sort of role Dave O’Brien usually plays – though Knuckles ain’t in this one). Boxing, getting punched in the head and punching others in the head, shall be Muggs’ reformation. (That, and a 4 minute detour to an actual reform school, an idea from the Crime School days that was never over-relied upon.) And Muggs’ intent to box is announced in an impromptu downtown parade, made all the better for being randomly grand marshaled by the almighty Keye Luke, easily the coolest Asian actor in Hollywood’s Golden Age, and the greatest overall until the heyday of Bruce Lee. All hail Keye Luke!
Muggs’ boxing career takes off with such success, it provokes a spinning newspaper montage to leap out from the wings. (Seriously, every B-movie from the Golden Age of Sequels employs such a montage, I swear, every single one.) This precedes the bulk of various sparring scenes, highlighted by a comic turn by a coach played by Pat Costello. At first I figured this short, fat and hilarious man must’ve been Lou Costello’s brother or something…Then it turns out he is Lou Costello’s brother! Hurray!
This is the point where crooks ask Muggs to throw the big fight.
And here’s my issue with drama, the East Side Kids way. In theory, it shouldn’t be very difficult to dramatize a boxer’s dilemma – to throw or not to throw. Especially when all the characters cinematic shorthand marks as “good guys” (whiter clothing, a lack of stylish Stetsons and fedoras) want Muggs to win. But for some reason, having to do with the vagaries and wishes of the human soul which I am not privy to, when Muggs overhears the good adults off in the other room expositing most helpfully about their desire for his victory, he resolves to lose. This leads to weeping, and a general malaise of 1970s-style sorrow I thought this series had gotten beyond.
Muggs’ moping is the glue that strings together the disparate training scenes that follow. And along comes an endless stream of amusingly-named crooks (Slats, Slim, Slippy) to tempt Muggs further with the delicious odor of crisp, spendable legal tender (cash).
It has been well over half an hour since last Danny was seen, but it suddenly turns out there was a point to his tale of sorta-robbery. For his buddy Monk gets into a shootout with Tom. Danny saves Tom’s life, but gets himself shot in the process. And Monk is killed outright in a most violent manner, a fitting punishment for a week’s worth of petty shoplifting (or so would be Hays’ moral judgment).
It’s starting to seem as though every East Side Kids film has to grievously injure one of its major characters near the end, for mostly no reason other than some easy heartstring plucking. I do detest this slide back towards melodrama, one film after the lads were literally slipping on banana peels. But this time there is a point, beyond the treacle. Danny needs a blood transfusion to live, and the gods are cruel plot arbitrators. The only one who is Danny’s type (blood type, that is) is Muggs.
For anyone who’s given blood, and then tried to go run a marathon, or fight a wildfire, or get exceedingly drunk, the rest will be easily predictable. With Muggs down a whole pint of delicious, delicious plasma, he shan’t have the energy to win the boxing match even if he intends to (oh, and he intends to win now, drama having apparently been resolved in a facial expression earlier I no doubt misinterpreted). So Muggs’ boxing matching doesn’t go all that well for him, Muggs being a bit shagged and a bit fagged, oh my brothers.
Until Muggs does do well. For once he gets a long, dramatic glimpse at all his friends, one-off and series-wide, cheering his chunky self in the stands, Muggs resolves he will win, lack of blood or no. Well, damn, that is impressive! And the entire plot is seemingly resolved with this act, the crooks arrested, the East Side Kids eternally saved from a lifetime of semi-criminal shiftlessness (at least, until the next entry), Danny survives, Tom’s job secured, and Monk remains a rotting corpse. And tuxedoes are handed out amongst all the East Side Kids, because for once they’ve happened upon a good closing gag which doesn’t make light of Scruno’s ethnicity.
This sixth entry is the first time the franchise has slid back in quality, with a regressive and clichéd plot, and with an out-of-place new regular. The main group of kids remains the same, good as ever – and I am quite shocked at how warmly I feel towards most of these actors, all things told – and that means hope for the series’ continued run. Good thing too, because there’s still 16 more entries to go (I know, I know), and plenty still before the inevitable cast shakeups start.
Related posts:
• No. 1 East Side Kids (1940)
• No. 2 Boys of the City (1940)
• No. 3 That Gang of Mine (1940)
• No. 4 Pride of the Bowery (1940)
• No. 5 Flying Wild (1941)
• No. 7 Spooks Run Wild (1941)
• No. 8 Mr. Wise Guy (1942)
• No. 9 Let's Get Tough! (1942)
• No. 10 Smart Alecks (1942)
• No. 11 'Neath Brooklyn Bridge (1942)
• No. 12 Kid Dynamite (1942)
• No. 13 Clancy Street Boys (1943)
• No. 14 Ghosts on the Loose (1943)
• No. 16 Million Dollar Kid (1944)
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