Old Hollywood is littered with the names and faces of some of the cinema’s most famous leading actors and stars. Accomplished thespians like Laurence Olivier and John Gielgud and stars like Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, and James Stewart have become part of the cinema lexicon and are almost universally known and recognized by film buffs and casual movie viewers alike. Olivier’s name is synonymous with expert acting and Bogart, Stewart, and Grant represent the best in comedic and dramatic acting in the Golden Age of Hollywood. But hidden underneath the layer of famous stars and big names lies a world of men and women who are not widely known by the typical film viewer yet have a face that one would immediately recognize as having seen in a movie before, producing the inevitable inquiry, “What else have I seen them in?” These familiar faces are the performers who belong to an underappreciated group of cinematic character actors.

A character actor, by my definition, would be an actor who always plays a variety of small, supporting roles in an assortment of different kinds of pictures. A good character actor gives his or her all for a role, regardless of the film’s story or the peculiarities of the character. Old Hollywood has numerous, stand-out character actors. There is Ward Bond, the man who appeared in nearly every famous slice of Americana including “Gone with the Wind”, “It’s a Wonderful Life”, and “The Searchers”. There is Walter Brennan who brought his unique vocal style to such classics as “Sergeant York”, “Red River”, and “Rio Bravo”. One of these character actors who has left an impression on me with every performance I have seen by him is the talented Claude Rains. Short in stature but enormous in talent, Claude Rains never ceases to astound me with his understated performances which are often accentuated by his aristocratic, soft-spoken British accent.

It is perhaps Rains’ voice which is the most versatile. Depending on the role, it can come across as either soothing and reassuring or villainous and deceitful. Along with Morgan Freeman’s and a few others', it is one of those unforgettable on-screen voices. Rains appeared in everything from Universal monster films and Hitchcock thrillers to big costume epics and American film essentials.

Here is a look at some of his most memorable performances:

“The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938)- As the villain Prince John, Rains is delightfully sinister and a tad flamboyant as the oppressor the heroic Robin Hood (Errol Flynn) and his band of men successfully combat.

“Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” (1939) - In Frank Capra’s acclaimed work, Rains stars opposite James Stewart as the elderly statesman Joseph Paine who at first warms to the newly-elected Smith (Stewart) but eventually ends up going behind his back by way of some political corruption. It is a performance in which Rains was nominated for an Oscar.

“The Wolf Man” (1941)- In this Universal monster classic, Rains portrays Sir John Talbot, father to cursed lycanthrope Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney, Jr.). Rains brings a strong sense of fatherly wisdom and devotion to the role of Sir John. He sternly defends his son to the growing voices of disdain coming from their tiny village, while also trying to persuade his offspring that his werewolf activities are entirely a creation of his imagination. It is a supporting role in a short movie, yet Sir John is an extremely rich character. He is a man driven by science, secured by a faith in the divine, and filled with a completely unending love for his son. Rains’ voice eloquently speaks lines of insight and understanding to Larry, informing him (in one of the best lines of the film) when the two are examining a telescope that “all astronomers are amateurs. When it comes to the heavens there is only one professional”. It is a great line and this is my personal favorite performance by Rains.

“Casablanca” (1942)- This is the role in which Rains will forever be remembered. He is amusingly suave as Captain Louis Renault, the head official of the police force in the haven town of Casablanca. Louis is friendly to everyone- the Nazis, the French, and Humphrey Bogart’s Rick- and without question is a corrupt official. One of his best lines comes when he leads a raid on Rick’s café. Yelling that he is shocked to find gambling going on inside the café, a man comes up and hands him his winnings for the night. Eventually, he comes down on the side of his friend Rick and, in the end the two embark on “the beginning of a beautiful friendship”. It’s a great performance in one of the great American films.

“Notorious” (1946)- This Hitchcock essential probably contains Rains’ greatest performance. Here, he plays the film’s heavy, a Nazi named Alex Sebastian. Hiding out in Rio with other Nazis following the end of World War II, Sebastian is seeking to do something very sinister with quantities of uranium he has hidden in the wine cellar of his house. Ingrid Bergman stars as a spy who marries Sebastian in order to uncover his diabolical secrets. It is a complex role for Rains. He at first is completely naïve toward’s Bergman’s Alicia and her true attentions, believing that she is really in love with him. When he finds he has been had, he turns subtly evil and collaborates with his vindictive mother on how to murder Alicia for her duplicity. It is a role that brings out the best in Rains: he presents vulnerability and affection at first, then vengeance and wickedness. And all of this is articulated by way of his distinct, charismatic voice. A must see.

Some of Rains’ other stand-out performances include his roles in “The Invisible Man”, “Now, Voyager”, “Lawrence of Arabia”, “The Phantom of the Opera”, and “The Greatest Story Ever Told”.

“Lawrence of Arabia” is more than a motion picture. It is an event which transcends the feelings, emotions, and experiences emitted by the average film. David Lean’s epic on the military escapades of T.E. Lawrence, chronicling his efforts to unite and lead differing Arab tribes against the Turks during World War I, simultaneously astounds the eye with gorgeous imagery and stimulates the brain with a story of depth and substance driven by rich, engaging, and well-developed characters performed by sublime actors.

I had never seen “Lawrence of Arabia” before last Saturday. Upon hearing that it was playing at the Robert Osborne Film Festival in Athens, GA, I jumped at the opportunity to see it for the first time. It is not every day that one gets to see a nearly fifty-year old film for the first time in a movie theater. The experience reminded me of the joys, and almost necessity, of seeing great films where they are meant to be seen: on the big screen. If ever there was a movie that was intended to be seen in the cinema, it would have to be “Lawrence."  There is no way the sheer scope and beauty of Lean’s film can be appreciated to the fullest extent on a television.

The stunning 70mm print which played at the Classic Center wholly emitted the awesome visual power of “Lawrence” and washed over the audience like one of the sandstorms featured in the film. It is this visual power which was caused me to fall in love the film. It was its visual impressiveness, combined with its fascinating, well-acted story which persuaded me to agree with the prevalent critique that “Lawrence of Arabia” is one of the great films of all time. Much attention must be focused on the imagery Lean presents to the viewer.

Lean photographs the desert landscape of Egypt and Arabia in such a way that we feel as if we are there marching with Lawrence on the way to defeat the Turks. It is as if we feel the sun baking our skin as it does Lawrence’s. We too experience the stinging of the sand as it whips across the faces of the characters. We too wonder with the characters if that image lingering in the flat, desert setting is in fact a mirage or the sight of a man mounted upon a camel. We as an audience have these notions concerning the film because of the way Lean presents the desert to us. He effectively makes the desert a character in the film because he emphasizes the sheer size of the desert in relation to the picture’s characters and the almost perfection of the desert’s physical features. The desert’s vastness first appears before our eyes in its entirety in a beautifully composed high shot of its rolling, sandy hills which is preceded by a shot of the rising sun.

It is in these first few moments of Lean presenting the desert to us that we marvel at the setting’s size and the exact shot composition he uses to emphasize the setting’s volume. As we are astonished by the rich brown color of the sand and the clarity of the blue sky, we realize that two tiny figures are emerging over one of the hills. It is the image of two men riding camels up the hill. Their slow emergence into the shot from behind the hill set to the amazing, triumphant musical score by Maurice Jarre is one of those great cinematic moments in which the motion of the characters in the frame eloquently melds together with a musical score. In fact, this entire sequence, in which Lawrence and his guide ride across the desert, reminded me of other great movie moments where music and motion have come together harmoniously (one of these moments would be the docking of the spaceships to the Blue Danube in “2001”). This sequence, along with the numerous desert battle scenes featuring hundreds of extras, epitomizes the glory which can occur when a series of well-framed shots occurs in a film.

Every instance where the characters appear in the desert always seems flawlessly framed and the desert looks physically perfect (Lawrence himself in the film even remarks that the reason he is attracted to the desert is because “It’s clean”). The characters are frequently placed within the frame in such a way that garners awe from the audience. Whether they are placed among towering mountains of rock which dwarfs them, photographed charging the Turks on camel and horseback or situated in a trench while waiting to blow up an oncoming train, Lean knows how to photograph his characters within the awesome desert setting.

The visual magnificence of “Lawrence of Arabia” is only half the story. The performances and story are equally expertly crafted. Peter O’Toole, in what was his first major starring role, is a revelation as T.E. Lawrence. His Lawrence is a man who is flamboyant, egotistical, and certain of his powerful leadership attributes. Willingly, almost joyfully, rejecting the customs and ways of his British superiors, he openly immerses himself within the Arab tribes, proudly adopting their clothing and inspiring them to follow his lead against the Turks. What is fascinating about Lawrence is that the aide he seeks to provide to the Arabs appears to have less to do with defeating the Turks and more to do with satisfying his desires to be perceived as a charismatic leader achieving glory. He even goes so far as stating that some of the Arab fighters who desert his band of soldiers will come back and fight simply because of him. And of course they would because they love Lawrence. They cheer him as he brings back a left-for-dead comrade dying in the desert and laud him as he triumphantly parades for them on top of a destroyed Turkish train. Complete with his Arab clothing, Lawrence is essentially one of them.

Keeping Lawrence in check and mindful of reality is Omar Sharif in the role of Ali, Lawrence’s confidant and aid. Sharif first appears on screen as the hazy image of a man slowly appearing out of the desert heat. It is a wonderful introduction to the character and Sharif is the best actor in one of the many supporting roles in the film. Other great performances come from Lean regular Alec Guinness in the role of Prince Feisal, the Arab leader who knows Lawrence’s knowledge of the area can help his people, Claude Rains as Mr. Dryden, the British leader who recommends Lawrence for the Arabia assignment, and Anthony Quinn as Auda abu Tayi, a leader of one of the Arab tribes who comes to provide men to Lawrence against the Turks.

“Lawrence of Arabia” ends up becoming a tale with two distinct messages. The first involves Lawrence’s own hubris in thinking that the Arabs, once the Turks have been defeated because of his leadership, will be able to govern themselves without the help of the British. This is not to be the case, which leads to the second message of the film revolving around the ideas of imperialism. As Lawrence leaves the conquered Damascus at the end of the film, he realizes that the British will not just leave the Arabs alone to govern and run things themselves because of interests they have in the area. He also recognizes that the Arabs have too many differing, bickering tribes squabbling at one another, making it difficult to achieve effective governmental rule without the aide of the British.

David Lean’s epic is one of those rare instances were amazing visuals and great acting and storytelling come together for an unforgettable experience. I am so glad that I have finally seen “Lawrence of Arabia”. It did not disappoint. See it if you have not and if you can find some way to do it, see it on the big screen. There are few events quite like seeing it in a theater.

One of the many magnificent qualities of Turner Classic Movies is its ability to acquaint modern audiences, especially the younger crowds who hold no concept of who John Ford is and cannot recognize a Bernard Herrmann score when they hear one, with pictures from an era in Hollywood which has been relegated to the pages of movie history. TCM can be likened to a library full of dusty old books which have been patiently waiting to be discovered by the minds of contemporary readers.

In some cases, Mr. Turner’s ode to the films of yesteryear sometimes allows its clientele to become once again familiar with those movies from a specific director’s canon which one may have forgotten present such an indelible point in that filmmaker’s career. This occurred to me quite recently. Finding my way onto TCM one evening, I found myself immersed in the Alfred Hitchcock comedy of murder and understatement entitled The Trouble with Harry. This film did not present new territory for me in terms of the Master of Suspense’s body of work, as this little gem of a picture is one which I have been familiar with for quite some time. Yet, it had been many years since I had viewed the picture.

In terms of Hitchcock, I had been consumed by his more notable films, be it Rear Window, Vertigo, North By Northwest, or Notorious. But that whole time, The Trouble with Harry was waiting to be re-discovered. Thankfully, to TCM, the rediscovery occurred and with it a new appreciation for this fine little film. The Trouble with Harry is unique among the films of Hitchcock because it is fully comedic in its nature. This is not to say Hitchcock never made comedies or that his films, underneath their suspenseful and macabre moods, did not have an element of amusement to them. The opposite is true, in fact. Hitchcock’s films are often very funny and amusing. North By Northwest, for example, could be considered a “spy-comedy” due to the great one-liners and often comedic situations in which Cary Grant finds himself. Rear Window features numerous instances of comedic banter between the crippled James Stewart and his nurse played by Thelma Ritter. Hitchcock himself even delivered with a perfect dead-pan delivery the humorous introductions to his own Alfred Hitchcock Presents. But while these films, and one great television show, contain an overall mood of suspense, The Trouble with Harry is light, whimsical, and hysterical and is not out to make the audience frightened.

Even though its premise contains typical Hitchcock characteristics, including the presence of murder, the approach this time by the director is much more tongue-in-cheek, emphasizing creating humor instead of engineering suspense. Hitchcock opens his film in the gorgeous autumn setting of a New England town. The beauty of the scenery lies in stark contrast to the presence of a dead body on the leaf-covered ground which is found by a little boy named Arnie (played by Jerry Mathers, later to be known as Beaver Cleaver). The dead body is Harry of the title and the trouble with him is that no one knows how he has died but everyone thinks they may have been responsible for his untimely demise. The aging and worrisome Captain Wiles (Edmund Gwenn, better known to you as Santa Clause from Miracle on 34th Street) believes a stray bullet from his hunting rifle may have done Harry in. The sophisticated and polite Miss Gravely also thinks she may have killed Harry with a blow from her hiking shoe. The two conspire to get rid of the body and obtain the help of a young artist in the town named Sam Marlowe (John Forsythe, better known as the voice of Charlie from Charlie’s Angels) and Arnie’s young mother Jennifer played by a wonderful Shirley MacLaine, here in her film debut. Jennifer, it turns out, is Harry’s wife and she too thinks she may have caused his death. What follows is an entertaining romp featuring the quartet burying, digging-up, and burying Harry over and over again while trying to avoid the suspicions of the town sheriff, Calvin Wiggs.

Romance also blossoms between Captain Wiles and Miss Gravely and Jennifer and Sam. The most entertaining aspect of The Trouble with Harry is the lack of concern everyone seems to have for Harry. The cast seems to care less that a human being has died. They are more concerned about hiding the fact that they may have killed Harry and finding a safe way to get rid of his body. This leads to Hitchcock displaying a wonderful sense of dry humor by way of understated dialogue by his principle characters. For example, when Miss Gravely stumbles across Captain Wiles dragging Harry’s body across the ground for burial, she simply remarks with an air of understated humor, “What seems to be the trouble, Captain?” In another instance, Jennifer remarks about her dead husband that he “looked exactly the same alive, only he was vertical.” When trying to get to Harry’s corpse in order to bury it, Captain Wiles offers one of the funniest lines in the film when, as he watches people walk by Harry’s body and not notice it, remarks, “Couldn’t have had more people here if I’d sold tickets.” Moments like these provide The Trouble with Harry with plentiful chuckles. The humor in the film causes it to fall into the category of being a “black comedy”, as the wit at the basis of the picture revolves around a murdered person. But that humor is executed (no pun intended) with such low key precision courtesy of Hitchcock by way of the dialogue of his actors that the film cannot be seen as a “murder mystery”, but as a comedy which happens to feature a dead man.

Historically, The Trouble with Harry came at a point in Hitchcock’s career when he was churning out memorable picture after memorable picture. In a span of three years, Hitchcock released not only this film, but Dial M for Murder, Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, and The Man Who Knew Too Much. This signifies one of the most productive periods by a director in American cinema (one could also cite John Ford and the short amount of time in which he made Stagecoach, Young Mr. Lincoln, How Green Was My Valley, and The Grapes of Wrath). The film also marks the debut of Bernard Herrman’s powerful scores as an instrumental presence in the Hitchcock canon.

Upon release, the film, according to most accounts, was a box-office disappointment. Over fifty years later, however, The Trouble with Harry, like other Hitchcock films (most notably Vertigo) has received a new life on DVD and VHS and critical praise from historians, such as Donald Spoto, who published a positive analysis of the film in his book The Art of Alfred Hitchcock. A distinct mark in Hitchcock’s career, The Trouble with Harry is an ideal example of the wicked humor Hitchcock loved to use in his projects and the range of his masterful directorial talents.