Best exchange in the movie. One of Ma Barker's boys remarks of some blond tart that "she has a body by Fisher." (It was a popular commercial slogan at the time.) Ma replies sourly: "Any man who fishes knows that sooner or later he'll get stuck -- by the hook." We're not talking Billy Shakespeare here, nor Raymond Chandler, nor even Mickey Spillane.
This movie is really distinctive. It features some of the worst acting, writing, and directing ever committed to celluloid. Wow -- it leaves you breathless. What holds the thing together -- to the extent that anything does -- is the story itself. Ma Barker, who shouts every line and slaps men and boys around, while teaching them that church is a place where you steal money from the collection plate. One of her boys loves playing the violin. That makes him a sissy, so she smashes the instrument over her knee. Too bad he didn't play the calliope. The boys grow up under her tutelage and petty theft turns into deliberate murder.
For years, J. Edgar Hoover, President-for-Life of the FBI, spent his time and effort tracking down these small-time anti-nomian hoods, like Ma Barker, Machine Gun Kelly, Alvin Karpis, and John Dillinger. They were a sensational nuisance in the depression-era South and Midwest. But Hoover also was adamant about the Mafia in the cities. There was no such thing. Even into the 1960s there was popular doubt about its existence due to Hoover's influence.
Hoover never wanted to pursue organized crime. There was too much money around that might corrupt his agents, and too little celebrity for Hoover himself. The Mafia were much harder to identify and convict than dumb hoods like Baby Face Nelson. And members of Cosa Nostra had names like Frank ("The Enforcer") Nitty, Salvatore ("The String Theorist") D'Amiano, and Giordano ("The Logical Positivist") Bruno. It would have been like tackling a tar baby, whereas Ma Barker and her Merry Men were relatively easy prey. Historically, she wasn't the gang's leader but more of a maid.
Hardly anything resembling a thought went into this production. At a party (in the middle 1930s) somebody is banging out left-over boogie woogie on the piano, from the 1940s, and some of the guests do a tame jitterbug. The makeups and wardrobe are echt-1950s -- except for one spectacular three-piece suit worn by one of Ma's kids that has shoulders wider than those made for Joan Crawford by Adrian. It's a loud pin stripe and it fits him loosely, like a tent.
There's no reason to go on about this film. As one scene is ending, the director's camera follows a man's hands down to his desk top, where he briefly touches some of the clutter there, then follows his hands back up to his face -- utterly without point.
You want a good crime story of a gang? Try "The Asphalt Jungle" or "White Heat." Skip this.
This movie is really distinctive. It features some of the worst acting, writing, and directing ever committed to celluloid. Wow -- it leaves you breathless. What holds the thing together -- to the extent that anything does -- is the story itself. Ma Barker, who shouts every line and slaps men and boys around, while teaching them that church is a place where you steal money from the collection plate. One of her boys loves playing the violin. That makes him a sissy, so she smashes the instrument over her knee. Too bad he didn't play the calliope. The boys grow up under her tutelage and petty theft turns into deliberate murder.
For years, J. Edgar Hoover, President-for-Life of the FBI, spent his time and effort tracking down these small-time anti-nomian hoods, like Ma Barker, Machine Gun Kelly, Alvin Karpis, and John Dillinger. They were a sensational nuisance in the depression-era South and Midwest. But Hoover also was adamant about the Mafia in the cities. There was no such thing. Even into the 1960s there was popular doubt about its existence due to Hoover's influence.
Hoover never wanted to pursue organized crime. There was too much money around that might corrupt his agents, and too little celebrity for Hoover himself. The Mafia were much harder to identify and convict than dumb hoods like Baby Face Nelson. And members of Cosa Nostra had names like Frank ("The Enforcer") Nitty, Salvatore ("The String Theorist") D'Amiano, and Giordano ("The Logical Positivist") Bruno. It would have been like tackling a tar baby, whereas Ma Barker and her Merry Men were relatively easy prey. Historically, she wasn't the gang's leader but more of a maid.
Hardly anything resembling a thought went into this production. At a party (in the middle 1930s) somebody is banging out left-over boogie woogie on the piano, from the 1940s, and some of the guests do a tame jitterbug. The makeups and wardrobe are echt-1950s -- except for one spectacular three-piece suit worn by one of Ma's kids that has shoulders wider than those made for Joan Crawford by Adrian. It's a loud pin stripe and it fits him loosely, like a tent.
There's no reason to go on about this film. As one scene is ending, the director's camera follows a man's hands down to his desk top, where he briefly touches some of the clutter there, then follows his hands back up to his face -- utterly without point.
You want a good crime story of a gang? Try "The Asphalt Jungle" or "White Heat." Skip this.