James Mason and Barbara Rush Dazzle in Nicholas Ray's Stunning Bigger Than Life

The recent passing of Barbara Rush brought to mind possibly the best work among this intelligent, skillful performer’s impressive filmography, Nicholas Ray’s stark 1956 melodrama, Bigger Than Life. Possibly the most unusual story to gain a 20^th Century Fox Cinemascope release in Deluxe color, the movie takes an idyllic suburban setting and turns it completely awry, with some scenes going about as far as the invasive Production Code would allow. Concerning the consequences which arise after a mild-mannered schoolteacher, Ed Avery, becomes hooked on his cortisone prescription, resulting in severe delusions of grandeur as Ed spirals out of control after abusing his dosage, much to the chagrin of his loving but understandably unnerved wife and young son, the film’s intensity rises in parallel to Ed’s psychotic state, leading to one of the most shocking and unforgettable climaxes found in a 1950’s film. Following his major success in the previous year’s Rebel Without a Cause, director Ray again illustrates his knack for exposing the extreme turmoil existing under Small Town America’s serene facade, aided by a concise, engrossing screenplay by Cyril Hume and Richard Maibaum (based on the article “Ten Feet Tall” by Berton Roueche) and astounding cinematography by Joseph MacDonald, which expertly lends a strong film noir element, with the imagery becoming darker and more unbalanced to match the story as the film moves into very unsettling territory. Intense, complex work by Mason and Rush also adds much in drawing in a viewer throughout the film, helping to make Bigger one of the most riveting cinematic experiences of its era.

James Mason, who also produced, is clearly fully invested in his role, pulling no punches in depicting Ed’s transition from a sympathetic teacher, spouse and father into an arrogant and ultimately dangerous figure for his family, students, friends or anyone to be around. Mason was at a career highpoint by 1956, after his fantastic 1954 output, wherein he offered definitive performances as a Captain Nemo and Norman Maine for the ages in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and his Oscar-nominated work in A Star is Born, respectively, and it’s admirable he would take on such a harsh character as a follow-up. Mason, showing no trace of likeability as Ed becomes more removed from reality, is fearless in showing the scary, controlling behavior that guides Ed’s increasingly nefarious actions. Although drug addiction was addressed the previous year in The Man with the Golden Arm, the protagonist in that film existed in a seedy environment; to see a family man with a respectable career and lovely home go to seed so quickly due to drugs is very disturbing, and Mason uses all of his substantial dramatic gifts to convey each aspect of Ed’s unravelling with precision and power.

For Barbara Rush, Bigger would give her an opportunity to demonstrate the full range of her dramatic gifts. Starting in films in 1950 after being discovered at the Pasadena Playhouse, Rush quickly established herself as a young player of note, with appearances in the Sci-Fi classics When Worlds Collide and It Came from Outer Space leading to a big 1954 hit, Douglas Sirk’s Magnificent Obsession, wherein Rush’s adeptness for adding tough, mature nuances to a character- she gave these parts a strength rarely found in charming ingenue roles. With Bigger, from the outset Rush indicates an unsettled nature lives within Lou, Ed’s appealing, practical housewife, as Ed first deals with blackouts that lead to his diagnoses wherein cortisone is prescribed as a possible cure. Lou is at the center of the action as Ed becomes more unreasonable and dictatorial towards Lou and their son, Richie, and Rush does a terrific job in showing Lou’s contrasting emotions, as she attempts to handle Ed’s aggressiveness while also trying to protect Richie from Ed’s wrath. For example, there’s a scene wherein Ed is leaving home to be further analyzed, and a close-up shows Rush first showing horror as she realizes how serious the nature of Ed’s illness is, then quickly turning to give a smile to Richie, to ensure him everything is fine.

Rush matches Mason in remaining incredibly focused during difficult scenes that test their dramatic capabilities to the limit, leading to that sensational final confrontation wherein Mason and Rush offer prodigious work that is nothing short of breathtaking, with Rush doing a masterful job in showing Lou’s terror as she simultaneously attempts to uphold a reasonable demeanor while trying to defuse her husband’s out-of-control conduct. In a year for dismayed cinematic housewives miles away from the June Allyson prototype of the era (Nancy Kelly in The Bad Seed and Jennifer Jones in The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit also come to mind), Rush unerringly offers a highly individual, edgy, emotionally-driven take on this intriguing type of character. Although she would continue to offer excellent work of class and distinction in top-tier films, such as The Young Lions, Strangers When We Meet and The Young Philadelphians, it’s possible Rush never again had a role of such depth and complexity as Lou, and her magnificent work in Bigger memorably serves as an apt example of Rush’s exceptional worth as a screen performer of skill and merit.    

As Richie, Christopher Olsen does earnest work, gaining audience sympathy in several scenes wherein Richie becomes the target for his unhinged father’s torment. Olsen, who started in films just out of infancy and had already had several impressive films to his credit (The Bad and the Beautiful and The Long, Long Trailer among them) was at his career peak in 1956, with a prominent role as another put-upon child in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew to Much also gaining him attention, to be followed by Sirk’s The Tarnished Angels, before his career ebbed quickly at the end of the decade. In contract, Walter Matthau was at the outset of his career, with Bigger marking his third film after his debut in 1955’s The Kentuckian; as Wally Gibbs, Mason’s kind, understanding colleague, it’s interesting to see Matthau perform without a hint of the acerbic nature that would be a component of many of his starring roles. In the other primary supporting role, Robert F. Smith is understated as Dr. Norton, who a viewer wishes were around a lot more as Ed goes manic. Also, look close for a cameo appearance early on from Jerry Mathers, just before his career-defining success on television as “the Beav.”

The jarring aspects of Bigger’s unorthodox plotline assured 1956 audiences and critics, unsure of what to make of the movie's bold proceedings, offered this quality-but-daring film a tepid reception. However, over the decades Bigger’s status has risen phenomenally, with many now citing the movie as one of the 1950’s best and a career highlight for Mason, Rush and Ray, with all three artists contributing indelible, extraordinary work in crafting a seminal cinematic classic. Viewers interested in discovering how vividly adult themes could be presented under the restrictive Production Code via great, inventive direction and spectacular, committed lead performances infused with dramatic depth and clarity cannot go wrong checking out the spellbinding, imposing Bigger Than Life.

I once had the good fortune of seeing Barbara Rush in person after a showing of The Young Philadelphians at the Aero Theater in Santa Monica. After the showing, Ms. Rush conducted an interview with the audience until the interviewer showed up, as the print of the film had been cut and therefore the movie ended early, while the interviewer was still at dinner thinking he had a half-hour or so to go. I was able to briefly address this night directly to Ms. Rush later at a screening of It Came from Outer Space, and she was as gregarious and upbeat to me as she had been while interacting with the audience in an impromptu fashion at the Philadelphians event, which I filmed and can be viewed here on YouTube. Rest in Peace to the lovely and talented Barbara Rush.  

Douglas Sirk Guides a Top Cast Through a Florid, Moving Imitation of Life

           Providing one of the most involving viewing experiences in the realm of classic melodramas, 1959’s Imitation of Life allows audiences to be swept up in an overpowering blend of romance, conflict, tragedy, and patented glossy Ross Hunter production values for a richly satisfying watch. A remake of Universal’s 1934 success (based on the 1933 bestselling novel by Fannie Hurst) starring Claudette Colbert and Louise Beavers, the film details the lives of two women, Lora Meridith and Annie Johnson, as Lora attempts to make her name on Broadway and both women deal with issues while raising their daughters, Susie and Sarah Jane. Specifically in the storyline of Annie and Sarah Jane, who is a light-skinned African-American trying to escape her origins and her loving mother in order to pass as white, the film reaches moments of dramatic intensity that has been jerking abundant tears from spellbound audiences for decades. Although the term “unforgettable” gets tossed around a lot when describing a great movie, with Life it’s virtually impossible to shake off how incredibly moving the movie is, as scenes and performances stay with one years after a viewing.

Fortunately for the production of Life, Universal had possibly the greatest director of melodramas ever among the studio’s list of major talents. Douglas Sirk had been responsible for crafting some of the studio’s best and biggest (in box-office terms) output during the 1950’s, such as Maginficent Obsession, Written on the Wind and The Tarnished Angels, and would finish his career on top with Life, wherein his uncanny ability to mesh florid and humane dramatic elements in a riveting cinematic manner were in full force. From the opening sequence, wherein commanding score shifts to a more serene tone as Earl Grant sings the lush title song as diamonds are seen falling from above to fill the screen, Sirk is in full control, guaranteeing Life will run the gamut from romantic escapism to harrowing, gut-wrenching tension.

                Lana Turner was at a career crossroads at the time of Life’s production. A recent Oscar nominee via 1957’s Peyton Place, Turner was just coming out of possibly Hollywood’s most sensational scandal, wherein lover Johnny Stompanato was killed at the hands of her protective daughter, Cheryl Crane. Life would provide an important boost to her career, while also proving audiences bore no ill-will towards her. Although many view Turner as a subpar performer, she is perfectly cast in Life and serves as star and actor beautifully. Lora is often strident and superficial in her professional and personal interactions as she works to become established on the stage, and the great lady airs Turner adopted to an extent after being groomed at MGM for stardom aptly fit the role. She also has no trouble with the glamour component, which is necessary in that Lora much be seen as a hot prospect for Broadway, despite (as mentioned in the film) being no ingenue.

                However, the most important aspect Turner brings to the film has to do with her incredible skill in diving deep in her emotional scenes. Although she could sometimes appear fascial in her playing, whenever Turner was called to emote in a heavily dramatic moment, she delivered as few other stars could, such as in the awesome hysterics she brought to her famous breakdown in an out-of-control-car in The Bad and the Beautiful. Turner has some forceful confrontational scenes throughout the film she handles with strength and class, before having to delve even deeper playing key scenes at the film’s climax. Turner wrote in her autobiography all the trauma she had faced leading up to Life’s filming burst forth onscreen during these moments, and Turner does indeed offer some spectacular emoting, which serves to emphasize the strong bond between Lora and Annie, and how dependent Lora has been on Annie in keeping a family dynamic going while Lora has been focused on her career.

                For Susan Kohner, Life represented a major career milestone. The daughter of Hollywood producer Paul Kohner and renown actress Lupita Tovar, most famous for starring in the Spanish-language version of Dracula and outliving almost all of contemporaries, passing away in 2016 at age 106, Kohner made a strong debut in 1955’s Audie Murphy hit To Hell and Back, then went on to costar with Sal Mineo in 1957’s Dino. As Sarah Jane, Kohner finds astonishing depths of emotion to help clearly illustrate how torn the young woman is between loyalty to her mother and the need to find a better life than 1950’s society, still largely upholding many racist attitudes, would allow her. Kohner expertly details the anger and determination driving Sarah Jane to pass as white, while also illustrating the sensitive nature that bonds her to the devoted Annie. Kohner and Moore work together beautifully in their scenes, creating some phenomenally moving moments as the guilt and conflict Sarah Jane faces in rejecting her mother, and the heartbreak Annie feels therein, is powerfully conveyed. Kohner also has to largely carry one of the most shattering final scenes in a movie, and she pulls it off with aplomb, ensuring any audience watching Life will never forget the incredible dramatic talent Kohner displays in her signature role. Following her success in Life, Kohner would go on to make a few more screen appearances, including a reunion with Mineo in the enjoyable Gene Krupa Story and nice work opposite Montgomery Clift in her final film, John Huston’s intriguing Freud, before retiring from acting for a new role as wife and mother, marrying John Weitz in 1964, a union that produced another generation of Hollywood players in sons Chris and Paul Weitz, who achieved fame producing and directing American Pie, among others, and also allegedly never let their mom live down the scene in Life wherein Sarah Jane gyrates her way through “Empty Arms” at a seedy dive, mockingly mimicking Susan’s racy moves around the house during their formative years.

In 1959 Sandra Dee was in the midst of one of the greatest years ever for an ingenue, with her breakthrough season also including her signature role as Gidget and excellent work in another key melodrama of the era, A Summer Place. Starting her career impressively with nice work (including an accent) in 1957’s Until They Sail, Dee ascended quickly as a kind of junior-league Doris Day for the teen set. Universal normally cast her in lighter fare, especially after she obtained status among the top-ten box office stars in the early 1960’s and married teen idol Bobby Darin, and Dee’s aptitude, given the right opportunities, as a talented young dramatic performer onscreen was seldom acknowledged. However, in her banner year Dee offers impressive emoting in all three films, providing the blueprint for an ideal Gidget with focused, sincere and beguiling work, and tackling starker dramatic fare in A Summer Place as Molly, a young girl attempting to handle a burgeoning romance, while her tyrannical mother (Constance Ford, relishing the sinister aspects of her role) does everything she can to destroy Molly and any love that comes her way (she slaps Molly into a Christmas tree in a GIF-able moment). In her big Life confrontation scene, wherein a broken-hearted Susie, who has fallen in love with her mother’s intended, angrily tells off Lora for what Susie conceives to be neglect, before breaking down regarding the love triangle Susie somehow was aware of, Dee shows a maturity and understanding for her character’s plight that allows one to believe her every action, and the idea Susie could abruptly righten herself and move on, with college serving as an escape from her at-home troubles. Dee’s 1960’s heyday included hits such as Come September (wherein she met Darin) and stepping in for Debbie Reynolds via couple of Tammy sequels, but she seldom had a chance to prove her dramatic worth again. Fortunately, her deft work during her banner 1959 lingers in memory, with her appearance in Life assuring Dee has at least one classic film to ensure her appealing presence and dramatic gifts will endure for future audiences to discover.

Juanita Moore had toiled away in uncredited bit parts for 20 years (including such high-profile productions as Cabin in the Sky, Pinky and The Girl Can’t Help It) before finally gaining her career-defining role as the warmhearted, wise, understanding Annie. Clearly comprehending this was the role of a lifetime, Moore fully invests her considerable acting skill to convey Annie’s kindness and strength as she and Lora make their way in life, while avoiding adding overt sentimentality or coyness that would make the role unbelievable. Although Moore would have trouble building on her success in Life due to limited opportunities as she altered appears between film and television, the potent sincerity and heartbreak she brings to her scenes with Kohner and, near the end of the film, in a key moment with Turner, allow her a definite place among the most moving, indelible performances of her era. Fortunately, living to the ripe age of 99 before passing in 2014 also allowed Moore to witness first-hand how strongly Life would resonate with the public over time, as avid appreciation from newer audiences discovering Life and Moore’s excellent work therein made the movie’s lasting impact evident, with Moore and Kohner appearing together at showings of the film to adoring, enthusiastic receptions.

Although the nature of the story maintains focus on the female performers, several male players make a nice impression. For John Gavin, Life launched him into the forefront of Hollywood’s handsome, stoic leading men, in the mode of Sirk and Universal’s top star, Rock Hudson. Although Gavin’s thespian skills were still in development, his earnestness is appealing, and he’s so otherworldly gorgeous it’s hard to keep one’s eyes off his remarkable visage. Life would begin a great brief run for Gavin, as he added Psycho, Spartacus (wherein he seems especially confident among a heavyweight cast) and Midnight Lace to his credits in short order, before reuniting with Dee for Romanoff and Juliet and Tammy Tell Me True. He stayed staunch throughout most of his work and limited his output after another plush Ross Hunter melo, 1961’s Back Street, but had a nice chance to parody his leading-man rigidness with verve in 1967’s Thoroughly Modern Millie, before transitioning into politics in his later years.

Dan O’Herlihy is urbane and confident as David Edwards, the playwright who gives Lora her big break; he also gets a great line when Lora expresses her desire to do a new play with a serious role after years of thriving in a string of Edward’s drawing-room comedies. Taken aback, David/O’Herlihy bemoans, “But it’s drama- no clothes, no sex, no fun.” Robert Alda brings some entertaining sleaze to his role as Allen Loomis, the suave, self-serving agent who first tries to use Lora, but then comes through for her after she rebuffs his advances (watching the film, my mother once stated, “She has so much class”). Mahalia Jackson, brilliantly singing “Trouble of the World” in overwhelming fashion at the film’s end, also makes a major impact. Troy Donahue also shows up, just prior to gaining stardom opposite Dee in A Summer Place, and making one of his strongest impressions in his one scene as Johnny, Sarah Jane’s calm-yet-seething-under-the-surface, racist boyfriend. Sandra Gould and Jack Weston can also be spotted briefly in early-career bits, with Gould adeptly bringing a touch of humor to the proceedings as the secretary who helps Lora gain her first break.

                A phenomenal hit upon its release, Life gained 6.4 million in film rentals (according to Variety), placing the movie in 1959’s top five box-office hits and gaining a spot among Universal’s biggest hits ever (Turner years later stated her cut of the profits from Life kept her financially solvent for life). Variety provided a rave for Turner, with Kohner and Moore also singled out for praise among critics, leading Kohner to a win at the Golden Globe and both her and Moore aptly nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Globes and Oscars, and Sirk was cited as a nominee by the Director’s Guild for his career swansong. The film’s reputation and popularity have only increased in subsequent years, with Life scoring a 2015 entry into the Library of Congress’s esteemed National Film Registry and many cinephiles rating the movie at the top of Sirk’s cannon. Releases on VHS, DVD and Blu-Ray have allowed the film to reach new generations of fans, whose tear ducts avidly response to Sirk’s masterful handling of the  stark, unforgettable material and astounding, moving work of the principal players, just as filmgoers who first encountered Life’s memorable, rich blend of luxuriant production values, romantic intrigue and arresting pathos and found themselves impacted in a similarly overwhelming manner in 1959.

                And a fond farewell to Barbara Rush, who just passed at 97. Discovered at the Pasadena Playhouse after graduating from the University of California, Santa Barbara in 1948, Rush assured herself a place in film history early on, with appearances in the sci-fi classics When Worlds Collide and 1953’s It Came from Outer Space. Rush would then become one of the most adept and classy leading ladies of the 1950’s and 1960’s, appearing alongside the likes of Rock Hudson, Paul Newman, James Mason and Frank Sinatra, before moving into television and stage work. I once saw Ms. Rush at the Aero Theater and taped her 2010 interview there after a showing of 1959’s The Young Philadelphians, wherein she costarred with Newman. Ms. Rush, looking and sounding terrific, had to start the interview solo, as the print of the film shown had been cut, and the interviewer thought he still had about twenty minutes or so to finish his dinner (you can check out the interview here- it’s with a Flip hand-held camera, so it’s not pro a job, but it’s there). She handled the situation with charm and professionalism, which I was able to tell her directly later at a showing of It Came. Always an asset to any project she appeared in, the skill, talent and beauty of Barbara Rush will be missed.

Billy Wilder Bears Witness to Dietrich and Laughton's Supreme Thespian Skills

    

      Providing possibly the best screen adaptation of an Agatha Christie work, with the writer's mastery of ingenious plot twists in full evidence, 1957's Witness for the Prosecution provides viewers with an enthralling mystery that will keep them guessing throughout the film's 116-minute running time. Expertly helmed by Billy Wilder, whose sharp-witted screenplay adaption (with co-writers Larry Marcus and Harry Kurnitz) of Christie's hit 1953 play (in London, and then on Broadway) adds abundant humor to the often-tense proceedings, the movie offers an ideal showcase for an imposing roster of top screen talent. The choice roles on view allow many to score splendid moments, but stars Charles Laughton and Marlene Dietrich dominate, going at their juicy assignments with a fervor and dexterity guaranteed to impress audiences, suck them into the tale in short order, and keep them absorbed right through the film's fascinating, unpredictable climax.

    Billy Wilder was in the midst of one of the best runs ever for a film maker, scoring consistent commercial and critical success since his debut as writer/director, 1942's The Major and the Minor, which included such classics as Double Indemnity, The Lost Weekend, Sunset Boulevard and Stalag 17. Witness would mark another fine entry in Wilder's filmography, just before the incredible one-two punch of Some Like it Hot and The Apartment, the 1960 smash which would garner Wilder three more Oscars to add to his previous three Academy Awards. Witness specifically served as a warm-up to The Apartment in regard to masterfully mixing comedic and dramatic elements in a seamless manner to move a plot forward, with Wilder exhibiting a deft, confident touch in allowing plenty of witty repartee to enliven proceedings throughout the mystery, while taking nothing away from the dramatic and suspenseful elements crucial to Christie's engrossing whodunit.  

    As the redoubtable barrister Sir Wilfrid Robarts, determined to take on possibly his last and most intriguing case despite ill health, Charles Laughton excels in seemingly effortless fashion in one of his richest performances, wherein he appears in complete synch with the sage, temperamental Sir Wilfrid's every mood and thought. The role offers Laughton a chance for both fiery theatrics in the courtroom scenes, more subdued playing in earlier moments as Sir Wilfrid ponders the nature of the case, and sly asides and observations aplenty throughout. It's a prime example of an actor exhibiting a true love of his craft, as in every scene Laughton appears to be relishing the chance to delve into the juicy aspects of the role, providing audiences with both a riveting portrayal they can't keep their eyes off, and a strong focal point as the plot unfolds. In an incredible roster of screen credits, including his early-career Oscar-winner, The Private Live of Henry VIII, The Ruggles of Red Gap, a Captain Bligh for the ages in 1935's Mutiny on the Bounty and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Laughton's canny contribution to Witness rightfully holds a prime position among his greatest film work. 

    Witness offered Marlene Dietrich possibly her best role since her legendary1930's work with director Joesph Von Sternberg that created in Dietrich an alluring cinematic icon of un-surpassing beauty and captivation. As Christine Vole, the mysterious figure at the centerpiece of the drama, Dietrich handles the femme fatale facets of the role with sophistication and a serene world-weariness that proves simultaneously compelling and off-putting to both Sir Wilfrid and the viewer from her first entrance. However, the nature of the story allows Dietrich to play far beyond her comfort zone and screen persona, affording her rare opportunities to demonstrate her fine dramatic gifts, which she artfully combines with her legendary screen-goddess aura. Dietrich seizes the chance to show the level of clarity and emotional strength she could bring to a part in her key Witness scenes, creating an unforgettable portrait of a complex, determined and mesmerizing woman.

    Top-billed Tyrone Power, in his last film before his untimely death at 44 while filming Solomon and Sheba in 1958, works hard in the trickly role of Leonard Vole, the man in question regarding the film's murder, leading to the prosecution. Power had gained a huge following as 20th Century Fox's top romantic idol shortly after the start of his film career via 1936's Lloyds of London, and he continued to prosper in this vein with such successes as In Old Chicago, Jesse James, The Mark of Zorro, The Razor's Edge and The Eddy Duchin Story. However, Power yearned for more serious consideration as an actor, achieving his best chance via 1947's grim-but-gripping film noir, Nightmare Alley, a flop upon release but today deemed one of the greatest noirs and Power's finest work. Still a major leading man onscreen, in the 1950's Power would turn to the theater for heftier histrionic work, specifically on Broadway in John Brown's Body, wherein he was directed by Laughton. Thereafter, Power must have been satisfied to gain one of his most challenging film roles in Witness and, although he appears to be striving for dramatic effect at times, the overwrought particulars of the part largely bear out this approach and allow Power an apt swansong for an admirable career. 

    A perfectly chosen supporting cast ably assists the star players. Chief among these is Elsa Lanchester, who is beautifully matched with her longtime offscreen husband as Sir Wilfrid's cheery yet no-nonsense, extremely efficient nurse, Miss Plimsoll, determined to do everything in her power to keep Sir Wilfrid in line on his road to recovery, much to his chagrin. Trading banter with and withstanding a barrage of insults from her charge, Lanchester plays in perfect accord with Laughton, with their ace teamwork resulting in some of the movie's biggest laughs, but also including a moving, richly satisfying final fadeout between the two. Una O'Connor (recreating her Broadway role) also scores heavily as Janet McKenzie, the victim's leery, outspoken housekeeper, who makes no bones regarding her views during her lively courtroom cross-examination by Sir Wilfrid. Norma Varden, in a manner similar to her excellent work in Alfred Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train, lends a flirtatious air and charming insipidness to Emily French, the well-to-do widow, then aforementioned victim of the story who takes an interest in Leonard, while Ruta Lee is briefly seen to good effect as an observer once the courtroom proceedings are underway. 

    The male contingency is also meritorious, with John William's lending his patent dry wit and deep, ducal vocal tones as Brogan-Moore, Sir Wilfrid's junior counsel. Henry Daniell, in a much less ominous manner than his terrific work as a villain in Camille, The Sea Hawk, Jane Eyre, etc., helps get Witness started in first-rate fashion as Mr. Mayhew, the concerned solicitor who brings Leonard's case to Sir Wilfrid and discusses chief points of interest therein. Ian Wolfe exhibits a caring, knowing nature as the calm valet who's assisted Sir Wilfrid for years, and who aids Miss Plimsoll in keeping the often-irascible barrister in his place. In the courtroom, both Torin Thatcher, as the tough but sometimes bemused Crown prosecutor who goes toe-to-toe with Sir Wilfrid in some of the movie's most entertaining passages and Francis Compton as Justice Wainwright, who oversees the trial with sage diplomacy and an endearing geniality, makes indelible impressions that help vitalize these lengthy jurisdiction sequences. 

    Released in December of 1957, Witness went on to great popular and critical success, amassing $3,750,000 in film rentals (according to Variety) to place among the top 20 grossing films of 1958, while also doing well at the Academy Awards, with nominations going to Wilder, Laughton, Lanchester, along with nods for Best Picture, Film Editing and Sound Recording, after the movie first gained five nominations at the Golden Globes (among them Dietrich for Best Actress), with Lanchester winning for Supporting Actress. Laughton's astounding, richly entertaining work also gained him a British Academy Award nom and a win for the David di Donattelo (aka the Italian Oscar) Best Foreign Actor, while Wilder placed among the finalists for the Director's Guild award. With a slew of great performances, a wealth of memorable dialogue and one-liners, and enough plot twists to keep viewers wondering exactly what the final outcome will be until the film's last minutes, Witness for the Prosecution has lost none of its entertainment value and power to surprise enrapt viewers decades following its original release, retaining its place at the forefront amongst the Cinema's best renderings of an Agatha Christie tale, and consequently one of filmdom's most engaging, memorably perplexing mysteries.

Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell Hit the Heights in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

 

      Gifted with top production values, including some of the most vibrant Technicolor ever seen, playful direction by Howard Hawks, once again proving his skill at handling any genre with deft precision, and two of the most memorable turns found in musical comedy during its heyday, 1953's Gentlemen Prefer Blondes from 20th-Century Fox is a perfect vehicle to cure any blues during its lively 91 minutes. With nary a care of delving into serious issues, Hawks and his stellar stars Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell beautifully maintain a sense of fun from first frame to last, guided by the witty, fast-paced Charles Lederer screenplay adaptation of the Anita Loos/Joseph Fields stage hit (from Loos 1925 novel) and inventive, entertaining choreography by Jack Cole which shows off both stars to their best advantage, starting with the knockout opening number, "Two Little Girls from Little Rock" wherein Monroe and Russell appear in stunning red sequined garb and set the screen aglow with easy charm and sex appeal, letting an audience know exactly what to expect for the remainer of the movie, with the front-and-center stars commanding the screen in spectacular fashion. 

       Making her initial impact in movies via small but standout roles in 1950's All About Eve and The Asphalt Jungle, Marilyn Monroe slowly worked her way up the 20th-Century Fox ladder and during the next few years, grabbing attention onscreen in both dramas (RKO's Clash By Night, Don't Bother to Knock) and lighter works (Monkey Business, We're Not Married), while also capturing the public's fancy after it was revealed she had posed a few years earlier for a nude calendar. In an indication of how times and sexual mores included therein were changing, Monroe's openness regarding her prior posing bare while in need of money brought public sympathy for her plight, and her fame continued its steep upward climb unhindered, which also indicated the phenomenal appeal Monroe gained early on with the public and maintains to the present. 1953 would prove the shift from up-and-comer to major stardom for Monroe, starting early in the year with standout work in her sole femme fatale role as the lush but lethal Rose Loomis in Niagara, which showcased Monroe's awesome screen presence and sensuality amid some arresting Niagara Falls locales, before the event of Blondes the following summer cemented Monroe's arrival as the decade's prime female star and sex symbol (literally, as both she and Russell placed their hands and footprints in the Grauman's Chinese Theater courtyard upon the film's premiere).

      Monroe truly lights up the screen in Blondes, deftly finding the balance between Lorelei Lee's wide-eyed innocence and her more mercenary attitudes, while looking otherworldly glamourous and seductive throughout. Marilyn allows the audience to understand Lorelei knows exactly how to handle any man to get what she wants from him, whether it be a diamond tiara or matrimonial gains, but in Monroe's hands she also conveys Loreli means harm to no one, and loves her nebbish intended Gus (Tommy Noonan) beyond his riches, an idea Loreli breaks down in a fascinating conversation with Gus' wary father late in the film ("Don't you know a man being rich is like a girl being pretty?"). It's easy to prefer the straightforward, vibrant, on-point playing Monroe achieves as Loreli and elsewhere (specifically in How to Marry a Millionaire and The Seven Year Itch) during her initial years of stardom to the more worked-out post-Actor's Studio performances to come, wherein Monroe maintained her unique allure onscreen, but possibly lost some of the snap and spontaneity found in her earlier work, with each role dissected to a fare thee well. In addition, watching Monroe in peak form in Blondes as she dreamily sails through her signature "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" number with great wit, style and mojo, one witnesses the vision of "Movie Star," in its most iconic state- Monroe's rare fusion of dynamic screen presence with her incisive identification with Lorelei place her work in Blondes firmly among the best of her cinematic endeavors.

       For Russell, Blondes marks an easy career high for the low-key, good-natured sultry leading lady, after first making an impact in the 1940's with Howard Hughes' The Outlaw, built to launch Russell largely through the showcasing of the young starlet's imposing physical attributes. The massive publicity surrounding Russell and the then-daring sexual nature of the movie made Russell a name and a G.I. pinup favorite even before the film was released. However, Russell proved worthy of the attention after establishing herself as an amiable, sly presence in films via her teaming with Bob Hope in 1948's smash The Paleface and the even-better 1952 sequel, Son of Paleface, with Roy Rogers and Trigger coming onboard to join and heighten the fun. Russell proved she knew her way around a song as well in these films, and her genial, sometimes sarcastic way with a line marked her the perfect casting choice for Blondes' knowing showgirl, Dorothy Shaw, the professional colleague, best friend and protector of the main blonde in question, Lorelei.

       Although the plot of the film has much to do with Lorelei's perchance for affluent men and diamonds, Russell's sage, incredibly likable work as Dorothy takes a backseat to no one. Russell makes it abundantly clear Dorothy knows the score, both with Lorelei and any man either one comes across, and due to Russell's wry playing a viewer identifies strongly with Dorothy and hopes she achieves her main objectives in the film, specifically landing Mr. Right (although one wishes for another Robert Mitchum/Russell teaming in regard to the private eye who catches Dorothy's eye as she and Lorelei travel overseas to France). However, although she handles the romantic aspects of her role with ease, Russell really pushes the film into the entertainment stratosphere, first while maintaining her smooth deadpan while cavorting onboard poolside with a group of somewhat bare hunks representing the U,S, Olympic team in the clever Hoagy Carmichael/Harold Adamson tune "Ain't There Anyone Here for Love?" (this number once brought the house down at a screening in San Francisco's Castro Theater) and then, late in the film, with an upbeat courtroom burlesque of "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend." Russell also nails every line she's given with aplomb (her snide "I was sure he would be" retort to Lorelei's overpraise that her Sugar Daddy's "The super best dancer!" is perhaps the highlight), gathering many laughs via her acerbic delivery style. Russell would continue to thrive throughout the rest of the decade, starring alongside no less than Clark Gable in The Tall Men and ideally teaming with Jeff Chandler in Foxfire, but subsequent musical outings proved lackluster; based on her superb showing in Blondes, one wishes Russell had more ample opportunities to shine in musical comedies. 

        Among the rest of the cast, a few manage to gain some notice amid Monroe and Russell's imposing star turns. The perfectly-cast Charles Coburn scores heavily as the leering Sir Francis "Piggy" Beekman, the diamond tycoon Lorelei sets her sights on, and vice-versa, during the ocean voyage much of the movie centers around. Norma Varden is also in tow and makes a good impression as the snobbish Lady Beekman, while veteran Marcel Dalio gets several big laughs as the exasperated judge haplessly trying to maintain order in the wild courtroom scene. However, tiny George Winslow, nicknamed "Foghorn" for good reason, comes closest to upstaging Monroe and Russell, as a precocious six-or-seven-year-old would-be suitor perfectly at ease when surrounded by the abundant charms of the dynamic duo, and quick-witted enough to literally lend a helping hand in his key scene with Monroe. It's also a lot of fun to keep an eye on all of Marilyn's Romeos in "Diamonds"; in addition to the most famous suitor, George Chakiris, Larry Kert and Robert Fuller can be seen (as well as-I think-Ben Cooper, but he's not listed in IMDB). Also briefly on view are bit player extraordinaire Bess Flowers, Julie Newmar as a chorus girl, Steve Reeves and Harry Carey Jr. among the Olympians, and Noel Neill.

      Blondes did outstanding business upon its release in 1953 (amassing $5.1 million in film rentals and placing at #9 for the year, according to Variety) granting Russell further career momentum after her success in the previous year's Son of Paleface and giving Monroe her first great hit, setting her up to become Cinema's biggest female draw after indelible follow-up work in How to Marry a Millionaire, which brought in even bigger returns in late 1953, proved Monroe to be among Hollywood's top talents and box-office draws. The entertainment value offered by Blondes has not diminished a wit in the decades since the film's release and remains a key vehicle in which to view two of the era's central stars, interacting in perfect synchronicity in roles flawlessly suited to their highly individual skills in the musical comedy field. For both Monroe and Russell, Blondes offers the ideal spotlight to demonstrate their cinematic worth to audiences from here to eternity, to mention another top 1953 screen offering. 

William A. Wellman and a Perfect Cast Vividly Depict The Ox-Bow Incident

Providing one of the most trenchant delineations of the misguided actions and attitudes leading to a mob mentality, 1943’s The Ox-Bow Incident from Twentieth-Century Fox remains one of the most powerful dramas ever produced by Hollywood. Veteran director William A. Wellman offers one of his most impressive achievements with Ox-Bow, deftly helming an ideally cast group of actors who all offer moving characterizations that linger in memory.  Also, in an age where it appears to take top filmmakers at least 2.5-3.5 hours to address a major theme, Wellman, aided by a tight, suspenseful screenplay by producer Lamar Trotti (based on the excellent novel by Walter Van Tilburg Clark) deserves credit for masterfully giving audiences a rich, emotionally compelling experience in a scant 75 minutes, without missing a beat or leaving a viewer with the feeling something has been left out of the narrative. In Wellman’s hands, every insightful scene adds to the overall mood of the film, leading to moments of harrowing impact as events unfold and the tension mounts to a breaking point.

By the time of Ox-Bow, the adventurous Wellman (who served as a decorated WWI fighter pilot prior to his film career) had established himself as one of Hollywood’s leading directors via such landmark films as 1927’s Wings (which won the first Best Picture Oscar), The Public Enemy, 1937’s A Star is Born (which won Wellman, along with Robert Carson, an Oscar for Original Story) and Nothing Sacred, and Beau Geste. Although his post-Ox-Bow career included successes such as Battleground and 1954’s The High and the Mighty, Ox-Bow may represent his peak accomplishment as a director. Wellman artfully constructs each scene and showcases every actor for maximum impact (this has to be one of the most memorable group of characters found in a film), while tightly structuring the movie with skill and inventiveness (for example, check out how the film opens and closes with a hound dog crossing back-and-forth on a dirt road, indicating how brief a span of time has passed during which the story’s monumental events took place). Filmmakers would do well to observe the prodigious economy and craft Wellman utilizes in Ox-Bow to create a moving, unforgettable viewing experience in a limited running time.

In a truly ensemble cast, top-billed Henry Fonda adds tension and humor to the film with his focused, calm-yet-assertive work as Gil Carter, who wanders into the sagebrush town of Bridger’s Wells just as the citizens become riled up due to the news one of their own, Larry Kinkaid, has been murdered by cattle thieves. As the town forms a posse to go after the killers, a few argue for waiting for the departed sheriff to return to town, and Gil and his colleague, Art (Harry Morgan) find themselves being drawn into the intrigue. Fonda does a great job adding an air of mystery to the multi-faceted Gil, who at times is pent-up, tactile, sensitive, funny and aggressive, leaving an audience not sure exactly how Gil will react under any given circumstance, even though the fundamental decency center to Fonda’s screen persona is evident, and one bets on Gil coming through in an honorable manner. He does a great job interacting with Morgan, who offers a more straightforward portrayal of an outsider uneasy to get too involved as events heat up but, working alongside Gil, driven to do what’s right in the final analysis. Fonda had much larger parts to make an impression in during his awesome career, but his work among the Ox-Bow troupe of players resonates strongly in his list of memorable roles.

Since his 1939 film debut, Dana Andrews had been working his way up the Hollywood ladder and his sensitive, emotionally-driven work as Donald Martin, a man falsely accused of Ox-Bow’s murder-in-question, announced the arrival of an exceptional screen talent. With limited screen time, Andrews subtly offers an array of reactions to Donald’s plight, including fear, anger, benevolence, and ultimately resignation as he becomes aware the unruly mob he faces will not be moved by logic. Andrews would go on to amply fulfill his early promise, becoming one of the major male stars of his era, with great work in classics such as Laura, Fallen Angel, Boomerang and one of the decade’s biggest, The Best Years of Our Lives, wherein his work ago stands out in a high-powered cast, including his Oscar-winning costar, Fredric March (somehow, Andrews never scored an Oscar nomination, despite several worthy performances; he was perhaps a victim, similar to Joel McCrea, of being too good and natural in his roles, in the face of showier work). Andrews’ instinctive, dedicated work in Ox-Bow set him up for one of the most impressive 1940’s filmographies, and Donald Martin remains among his most powerful performances. The anxiousness and desperation Andrews instills in Donald as the young man realizes the injustice that will seal his fate allows the role to stay with one long after experiencing the film.

An abundance of exceptional actors bring verve and individuality to their roles. Harry Davenport offers a beautiful depiction of Arthur Davies, the elderly, conscientious and caring townsman who serves as one of the main voices of reason as things transpire in an untoward manner, while conversely Frank Conroy brings a controlled, stern detachment to his work as the retired Major Tetley, who’s determined to ensure his own brand of justice is swiftly upheld as soon as the gang encounters possible suspects. As the Major’s seemingly timid but morally sound son, Gerald, William Eythe has some of the film’s most tense moments as Gerald comes into conflict with his domineering father’s actions. Eythe shows an intriguing combination of vulnerability and strength, and his impressive 1943 work in both Ox-Bow and one of Fox’s biggest offerings, The Song of Bernadette, indicated a bright career ahead, but his subsequent movies varied in quality before his untimely death at 38 in 1957, leaving Ox-Bow as possibly his most indelible film performance.

Onscreen since 1936, Anthony Quinn further establishes his credentials as a top Hollywood supporting player in Ox-Bow, adding a nice touch of bemusement to his portrayal of Juan, Donald’s sly, alert ally. In the primary female role of the tough, extroverted “Ma” Grier, Jane Darwell brings life and an apt overbearing presence to the role, vividly revealing the perils involved in upholding an overconfident nature with little or no facts to back up assertions; the high-spirited Ma clearly wants excitement, and doesn’t seem to care what the cost may be to obtain it. In the other key female role of Rose Swanson, Gil’s intended who’s wedded another man in his absence, Mary Beth Hughes displays an appropriate flirtatiousness (ala Lana Turner in this period, whom Hughes resembles) in her interactions with the now-flummoxed Gil and his colleagues. Leigh Whipper offers adroit work as Sparks, the gaunt, serene, and most religious figure among the mob, while Margaret Hamilton shows up playing a stern housekeeper with her typical brio. Other key Ox-Bow players who make strong impressions are Marc Lawrence as one of angriest among the mob, Francis Ford as the befuddled, terrified eldest victim of the mob, and Willard Robertson as Sheriff Risley, who quickly assesses the aftermath of the mob’s actions and hands down his verdict just as swiftly.

The bleak (if beautifully conveyed) subject matter of Ox-Bow prevented box-office success upon the film’s release in May of 1943, but the quality of one of the decade’s best films could not be denied, leading to a spot on The New York Times top ten list, a win for Best Picture from the National Board of Review, with Wellman listed among the Best Directors and Morgan cited for his performance, and an extremely worthy Best Picture Oscar nomination, with the film eventually finding a place on the National Film Registry’s 1998 list for preservation. Gifted with superior direction, top production values and one of the greatest casts ever, The Ox-Bow Incident still serves as an influential, timely illustration concerning the dangers involved in jumping to conclusions with negligible evidence, and the harmful outcome of actions subsequently taken in a haphazard, mob-like fashion.

Elvis Presley Reigns Supreme in King Creole

Working on a recent tribute to Elvis Presley using clips from his films gave me ample time to review a decent amount of his filmography (I focused on eighteen Presley vehicles, from his debut in 1956’s Love Me Tender to his final film (outside of documentaries or concert films), 1969’s intriguing Change of Habit, while avoiding much of his stale 1965-69 output and mainly limiting selections to (IMO) the best of Presley’s cinematic endeavors. The project also allowed me to take another look at Elvis’ screen persona as it evolved through good, bad and somewhere in-between movies. One major takeaway I noticed was how, regardless of the quality of the film, Elvis managed to effortlessly hold the screen, while simultaneously working hard to squeeze some entertainment value out of something like Girl Happy (and succeeding doing “The Clam” and serenading Shelley Fabares via one of his loveliest ballads, “Puppet on a String”) in a charming manner, and sometimes revealing himself to be a persuasive actor in the process.

Presley’s earnestness and magnetism on-screen was evident from his initial appearance in Love Me Tender, and these traits served him well as he attempted to broaden his film horizons by mixing sure-fire fare (Jailhouse Rock, G.I. Blues, Blue Hawaii) with more out-of-left field offerings, allowing him a chance to stretch as an actor, such as with his fine work in the compelling Don Siegel-directed 1960 Western Flaming Star, wherein Elvis gives a focused, moving performance as a half-breed facing a series of conflicts concerning his loyalty to both his family and a nearby tribe. However, vying with Star in regard to Presley’s best role and film may be his work as Danny Fisher in 1958’s King Creole, adapted from the 1952 novel A Stone for Danny Fisher by Harold Robbins. Working under the strong guidance of first-rate, renowned director Michael Curtiz, Elvis found the ideal opportunity to combine his talents as the chief rock n’ roll star of his era with scenes that pushed his dramatic abilities to the limit, resulting in possibly the most fully rounded, convincing characterization of his career.

                Supported by an exceptional cast, great B&W cinematography by Russell Harlan, and a deft, involving screenplay by Herbert Baker and Michael V. Gazzo, Creole stars Presley as a young man in New Orleans who finds himself gaining sudden success as a nightclub singer on Basin Street, while simultaneously dealing with various local underworld figures, family conflicts and a romance or two thrown in for good measure. The main storyline concerns Danny’s attempts to stay on a straight-and-narrow path and avoid a life of crime that threatens to sidetrack his burgeoning career as a singer. With his swarthy good looks and brooding intensity combined with an innate decency, Elvis does a terrific job in displaying all the complexities at play in Danny’s makeup, specifically his rebellious nature and a more gentle, vulnerable side that serves him well during more intimate scenes. He is also well-served musically, showing in numbers such as “Trouble” and the title song the talent, charisma, verve and sensuality that marked him as the most phenomenally successful recording artist of the era. Curtiz does a great job showing his young star to the best advantage, both on-stage and during dramatic sequences, making a viewer wish the man who helmed Angels with Dirty Faces, Casablanca, Mildred Pierce and a host of other classics had more opportunities to guide Elvis as he attempted to develop his acting prowess, before the Oscar-winning director’s passing in 1962.

Regarding others in the top-flight cast, with Creole Carolyn Jones found herself near a career apex in films, after starting her career in the early 1950’s and providing to have a knack for standing out in small roles in major productions, such as House of Wax, The Big Heat, The Seven Year Itch and The Tender Trap, before breaking through with her stunning, Oscar-nominated work as a scared Greenwich Village bohemian in 1957’s The Bachelor Party. Jones makes a similar impact in Creole, providing ample dramatic heft to the movie as Ronnie, the troubled girlfriend of oily, domineering nightclub owner Maxie Fields (played by Walter Matthau with cagey aplomb). Jones instills an edge and conviction to her scenes with Elvis not usually found in his romantic pairings, helping him lend depth to his portrayal as the triangle between Ronnie, Danny and Maxie intensifies. After her memorable work in Creole, Jones’ film career would continue to proposer via fare such as Career, A Hole in the Head and as a member of the mammoth all-star cast for How the West was Won, before finding her greatest (and everlasting) fame on television as Morticia in The Addams Family.

Among the rest of the stalwart players, Dean Jagger illustrates why he was considered one of the more reliable character actors of his time (with an Oscar for Twelve O’Clock High to his credit), portraying Danny’s somber father in a direct, engaging manner. Jagger is unafraid to show the defeatist attitude that prevents Mr. Fisher from moving on with his life after the loss of his wife several years before, and his scenes with Elvis wherein Danny displays shame and resentment against his father carry substantial power. Dolores Hart is once again ideally cast opposite Elvis after making her film debut the previous year in his second film, 1957’s Lovin’ You. In Creole, Hart brings both strength and purity to the role Nellie, a young girl who, along with Ronnie, develops a strong attachment to Danny. Hart and Presley play together with a simplicity and naturalness that is endearing, making it easy for an audience to root for the relationship to survive the turmoil that comes their way after Danny meets Nellie at a local five-and-dime. Vic Morrow, a few years removed from his breakthrough work as The Blackboard Jungle’s main juvenile delinquent, again shows his skill for playing a sleazy troublemaker with a creepy, hyper-kinetic zeal. As “Shark,” Morrow is great at suggesting untold dangers whose depiction would not be allowed by the production code, lending an uneasy excitement to scenes wherein Shark attempts to corrupt Danny and force him into a life of crime.

Although Creole proved a success and furnished Presley with yet another #1 hit (“Hard Headed Woman,” which curiously is only heard briefly off-screen in the film), after his tenure in the Army later efforts to move away from lighter fare, or at least combine comedy and drama elements (such as 1962’s Follow That Dream) never caught on in a similar fashion. A turning point of Elvis’ career came after his iconic teaming with Ann-Margret in 1964’s Viva Las Vegas which, although one of his biggest hits, went over-budget and caused Col. Tom Parker to thereafter focus on cranking out mostly dire movies of the comedy-romance ilk, featuring forgettable plots and songs. However, viewing films from earlier years in his career shows Elvis possessed a natural, beguiling presence and an impressive, intuitive aptitude for acting when he could strongly identify with a role and seamlessly mesh it with his inherent gifts as a performer, from his high wattage, electrifying musical style to an easy-going, friendly and vastly likable on-screen presence. King Creole stands as a lasting example of what Elvis in his prime was capable of on-screen, providing proof that he possessed ample skill both as a movie star and actor, and under different circumstances could have had a career on film to rival his accomplishments elsewhere as one of the most talented performers of his (or any) generation.