The Horn Blows at Midnight

Synopsis: Falling asleep during the Paradise Coffee ("The Coffee that Makes You Sleep") Program, the band's third trumpeter dreams he's Athanael, an angel deputized to blow the Last Trumpet at exactly midnight on Earth. But Osidro and Doremus, two fallen angels enjoying the physical pleasures of an earthly existence, try to steal Athanael's trumpet, enlisting the aid of suave jewel thief Archie Dexter. Athanael fumbles his first try when he saves Archie's accomplice, Fran, from suicide. His second chance seems doomed when he's forced to leave his trumpet as security for a meal he can't pay for. But he gets it back just in time for a final confrontation with his desperate adversaries, dangling with them from the roof, only seconds from Midnight.
Genre: Comedy, Fantasy, Music
Director(s): Raoul Walsh
Production: Warner Bros. Pictures
  1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.8
Rotten Tomatoes:
89%
APPROVED
Year:
1945
78 min
73 Views


Hum, little hummingbird?

Boys, will

you please pay attention?

Watch what you're

doing. Try bar 13.

Hum, little hummingbird?

Just a minute.

What's going on here?

What's going on here?!

Pardon me,

madame Traviata.

Boys! What's the matter

with the brass?

That's a C-Major chord.

You know better than that!

Let's go now!

Hum, little hummingbird?

Oh! Oh, this is absurd.

This is ridiculous!

What are you,

musicians or butchers?

It wasn'tmy fault.

Who's playing

those repulsive notes?

He is!

Would you mind playing my

composition as i wrote it?

Can't you read?

My eyes. I'm a little tired.

I was up all last night practicing.

Practicing what?

To play out of tune?

You sound like a snake charmer.

Break it up out there, will you?

Come on now, folks. Break

it up and settle down.

We're on the air in 3 minutes.

We have a very eccentric

sponsor, you know.

He likes everybody in the

orchestra to play the same song.

You see?

Kindly play my music as I

wrote it or just stay out of it.

His music! He stole everything

he ever wrote, the big thief.

And you, you two

stool pigeons,

you're going to be punished someday

for snitching on me like that.

Don't let them upset you.

Oh, Elizabeth, the whole

world is against me.

Here I am,

a great musician,

sitting here playing

third trumpet.

Well, you're making money.

You're eating.

That's unimportant.

I'm an artist.

I wish I'd never heard

of food or money.

Now, now.

It's an ungrateful

world, Elizabeth.

If I had my way, things

would be different.

There'd be a lot

of changes made.

Stand by! We're

on the air!

The paradise coffee program!

Gentle people,

it's 15 minutes

before midnight,

And paradise coffee,

The coffee

that is heavenly,

brings you

sleepy time music.

And why?

Because paradise coffee

makes you sleep.

Ah, sleep.

What is more beautiful

than sleep?

Sleep, blessed sleep,

the sleep you always miss

so much when you are awake

because

you aren't sleeping.

First you pour

paradise gently

into the waiting cup.

Then perhaps

a dash of cream

to lend that

pearly, glittering tint.

Then add sugar to taste.

Ah-Ah! Not too much now.

And then sip

your paradise coffee

and sleep.

Indeed, paradise coffee

is heavenly,

for it makes you sleep

contentedly, peacefully,

as if in the arms

of angels.

You sleep

on a billowy cloud,

drifting through the majestic

nothingness of infinity,

listening

to a celestial symphony

that lulls

your earthly cares away.

It's paradise.

It's heavenly.

Me?

Are you sure?

Elizabeth.

I'm sorry.

The deputy chief

has no authority in such matters.

Why don't you take it

up with the front office?

You're welcome.

Elizabeth, I was-

Hello, Athanael.

Elizabeth, the chief

sent for me.

I was just sitting there

playing, and a messenger came and-

You might say hello,

Athanael.

Hello. What does he want?

Did he tell you?

I think you're going

to be promoted.

I am? That's wonderful!

It's about time, too.

Athanael!

Yes, sir?

Elizabeth, what's keeping

that Emmanuel fellow?

It's not Emmanuel, chief. It's Athanael.

He's here now.

Well, bring him in.

The chief!

Don't let him

frighten you.

If he's gruff

and short-Tempered,

it's just because

he's terribly busy

like all the other

deputy chiefs.

After all,

he has billions

Of small planets

to look after.

Elizabeth,

have we any report

on that star missing

from the big dipper?

It fell out, sir. They

found it in the milky way.

What's this memo from

the personnel department?

Same old thing-

Shortage of angel power.

I've drawn up

the new questionnaire.

What? Another

questionnaire?

Red tape, red tape,

and more red tape.

Next thing you know, they'll

be forming a new bureau

to handle the new

questionnaire.

They better start letting

in a few big businessmen up here.

So, you're Emmanuel,

huh?

Uh, Athanael, sir.

Angel Junior grade,

Third phalanx,

15th cohort.

Nothing wrong

with your record.

I hope not, sir.

Application excellent.

Deportment excellent.

Kindness excellent.

Virtue excellent. Monotonous!

Yes, sir.

That's for me to say.

Hmm. Fancy yourself a

trumpet player, do you?

Well, sir,

in all modesty,

I think I can

safely say that-

Well, I do work hard

at it, sir,

And I practice a lot

in my spare time.

Yes, so I hear, constantly,

from this female.

You with your trumpet

and me with my harp.

You have, Elizabeth?

I told him

how pleasant it is,

just the two of us

and the music.

Emmanuel!

I sent for you

to, uh...

Let's see. Why did I send for you?

Oh, yes. I remember now.

It seems that one of

our smaller planets,

called the,

uh...

well, the name

doesn't matter.

Anyway, planet

number 339001

has gotten completely out of hand.

I know we have

a model of it

somewhere in the files.

Oh, yes.

Here we are.

Absolutely out of hand.

Persecution and hatred everywhere.

Goodness knows

the front office

has warned them

often enough-

quakes, floods, volcanic eruptions,

droughts, plagues, everything.

They pay no attention.

Not a bad little planet, at that.

I know it has a name.

Oh, that's

the planet Earth, sir.

Oh, yes, yes,

yes, yes, yes.

Created rather hurriedly, as I recall.

Just a 6-Day job,

wasn't it?

Practically slapped

together, you might say.

Take a good look

at it

because we're going

to slap it apart.

We are?

Yes. Orders from

the front office.

Usually when a planet goes berserk,

it's our demolition expert

Who descends, blows

his horn, and poof.

Poof?

Mm-Hmm. Just now,

however,

our demolition expert is disposing

of one of the larger planets,

so for this bit of

destruction, I'm using you.

Me?

Yes, as the angel least

likely to be missed.

Come over here,

Emmanuel.

That's

Athanael, sir.

Oh, all right.

Athanael.

This doesn't take any

particular intelligence,

so I think

you can handle it.

Ooh!

And blow

the first 4 notes

of the judgment day

overture on this horn.

Pardon, sir. It isn't

a horn. It's a trumpet.

To me, it's a horn,

but a very special

one, so take care of it.

Get going, and when

you come back,

you may find yourself

an angel senior grade

and playing horn solos on your trumpet.

Thank you, sir. Thank you

very much. Thank you, sir.

Save your breath

for the horn.

Elizabeth, see Mercurius

about his transportation.

Yes, sir.

Good-Bye, sir.

By the way, that must be

blown at midnight sharp.

Yes, sir.

Remember, that mea

ns precisely at 12:00.

Any other time, you

can blow your head off,

and all you'll get

is music.

11:
59 won't do.

12:
01 won't do.

It must be at 12:00

on the dot.

On the dot, sir.

That's all.

Hello, salvage department?

Stand by to pick up a

load of scrap at midnight.

Watch the birdie.

Well, it's what

I've always said-

you can't fool

the camera.

Let me see.

After all, Mercurius,

it's a picture of me,

isn't it?

Not a bad

likeness,

considering

what it's like

You can hardly call it

flattering.

It is just

for the records.

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Sam Hellman

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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