The Seventies version features lost, terrorized kids being saved by the actions of an adult search party. The Thirties version is a kid saving himself and his sweetheart, through his own ingenuity, because there are no adults are there to save him.
The character of Joe Valachi was a big part of what kept me from enjoying the film. As a mobster, Valachi's not very successful. He's just a boss's driver, with a pair of legit side businesses, kind of passive and, ultimately, boring. He's not clever. He's not charismatic. He often comes across as bizarrely naive, at times, almost child-like.
It's not a film I watch very often, but when I do, it's not because I'm feeling miserable and seek to compound that misery by viewing the film as a presciently bleak political statement.
Late Nineties Crap Noir. Very anti-audience. Oliver Stone riffs on John Dahl, a la psilocybin mushrooms.
The commercialization of political hysteria is nothing new, nor is it exclusive to the left side of the aisle.
How's this for an odd piece of movie trivia?
Now that a Republican's in the White House, the Left conveniently rediscovers the previously inconvenient George Orwell.