KING OF THE UNDERWORLD (1939)

A married sawbones works in secret for the King of the Underworld (Humphrey Bogart) patching up hoodlums for some extra scratch to bet on the ponies.  One evening while sewing up a gangster who was shot in a getaway stick, the trigger-happy bulls start blasting the joint. When the gat smoke clears, the doctor is wearing a Chicago overcoat.  The local (crooked) DA is out for blood so he falsely accuses the surgeon’s widow (who is also a doctor) of being in cahoots with the mob as well.  She’s not.  Boring shit happens and before you can say, “I wish Forever Grey would make a 9-minute cover of the Def Leppard song Hysteria.” both the doctor and the King of the Underworld are in the same small town doing all kinds of riveting things.  The doctor treats an innocent man who was ventilated by a stray bullet then pays off her grocery store bill.  The King of the Underworld yells at his men while they change a flat tire and then works on his autobiography.  It’s exciting stuff.  And speaking of excitement, don’t even get me started on the thrilling climax featuring eye drops!  I was peeing my Ewok Underoos as I shivered with antici



pation.

At only 67 minutes you would think that the film would fly by, but nope.  This mother is slow!  Average acting, unattractive scenery, boring sets, lame dialogue, by the numbers story filled with paper thin characters, goofy ending.  As a gangster movie KING OF THE UNDERWORLD is too tame and as a melodrama KING OF THE UNDERWORLD is still too tame.  The entire thing is as weak as H.R. Pickens.  Worth a watch, I guess, for Bogart fans.  Then again, I love Humphrey Bogart and even I found his performance to be uninspired.  Yeah, see?

MAD LOVE (1935)

Dr. Peter Lorre is smart as a bitch when it comes to medical shit, but hella cray when it comes to romance. So much so that he has a life-size wax replica of his favorite actress, Frances Drake, in his crib and each night he plays sweet slow jamz to it on his organ. That’s fairly harmless in a mentally unbalanced sort of way, but Fate has a monkey turd up its sleeve when Drake’s husband, the famous ivory-tickler Colin Clive, has his hands crushed in a train wreck.  Lorre is called in to perform a medical miracle by repairing Clive’s hands, but in reality, he secretly replaces Clive’s dickbeaters with those of a recently decapitated serial killer!  Sinister shenanigans ensue.

For a movie that's older than yer great-grandpappy's ballsack MAD LOVE is still moderately creepy, but for whatever reason, it's only 68 minutes long.  I mean, 68 minutes is definitely enough time to tell a story, but right when the movie felt like it was picking up pace..it ends!  And abruptly too.  Shit's popping off, Lorre's snarling like a maniac, Drake's fearing for her life, Clive's freaking out over his murdermittens and...The End.  It was strange.  I was totally expecting another 20 minutes or so.

Still, even with the stunted runtime, MAD LOVE is an entertaining film and 100% worth watching for classic horror fans.  Quick pace, solid direction by Karl Freund (who was the cinematographer for METROPOLIS and DRACULA), neat sets that (sadly) weren't featured enough onscreen, dramatic lighting, cinematography by Gregg Toland (who would go on to win an Oscar for WUTHERING HEIGHTS then work on some movie called CITIZEN KANE), impressive supporting cast (including Keye Luke and Ian Wolfe who both have insane filmographies lasting into the 1990's!), a ghoulish story and best of all...the three leads were all great.  Recommended.