Hope and Tashlin Mine Comedic Gold in Son of Paleface

Among the most unapologetically unpretentious comedies of its era, Frank Tashlin’s undeservedly forgotten, underrated Son of Paleface doesn’t offer a profound or sophisticated idea during its brisk 95-minute unfolding, much to the benefit of audiences looking for a good time. Its sole purpose is to gather as many laughs from audiences as possible; in regard to tone, Son could be a father to Airplane!; for one viewer, Son also has lingered in memory long after many “important” films fade. I originally saw the movie decades ago in high school when my drama instructor (who would’ve been about ten when the movie came out in 1952) showed the film as an end-of-semester treat, and it went over like gangbusters. Viewing the film anew after several years, Tashlin’s skill in setting up a slew of gags and the inspired, energetic work of stars Bob Hope, Jane Russell and Roy Rogers has not grown stale- the sense of fun maintained by these key players is as infectious and fresh as ever.

Son came four years after one of Bob Hope’s biggest solo successes (The Paleface, natch) and happily re-teams him with the comely, statuesque and good-natured Jane Russell, who is right-at-home trading quips with Hope and keeping her mischievous leading man in his place, while the movie impressively ups the ante concerning the laugh quotient- those claiming Son rates a distance second to the first Paleface just aren’t paying attention, giving into the sequels-can’t-match-the-original bias. Hope made his share of stinkers onscreen, particularly in the later stages of his career, but at his best he’s a delight to watch, and although Hope could mix serious aspects of roles with comedy in a skillful, straightforward manner (he does great work in this vein in 1956’s little-seen but highly entertaining That Certain Feeling) he admirably resisted playing for pathos in these roles, a bait most other top comics snatched at time and again in a play for (often unwarranted, when it didn’t work) audience sympathy and critical respect. Hope’s onscreen persona during his heyday as a cowardly, horny, sneaky conman had been perfected for over a decade in his solo outings and the smash-hit Road series with Bing Crosby; with his quick-witted comic timing and skill, Hope seldom overplayed a joke or pandered for a laugh- he got them by being genuinely funny. Hope’s lively, oversized persona and focus on pure comedy made him the ideal choice to team up with director Tashlin’s comic skills (the director knew his way around a gag as adeptly as his leading man after serving for years in the animation field). The sense of fun that permeates the film even allows a scene involving an un-PC swipe at Indians to evade disaster, as Hope is made the butt of his own insults once he realizes the wooden Chief he’s been slamming with insults is flesh-and-blood, turning Hope into a jabbering hypocrite.

Hope knew how to do these types of jokes and double-takes beautifully and he’s in peak form from his opening shtick wherein he talks to the audience through narration while bidding adieu to his unimpressed girlfriend, and he never slackens the pace from there, consistently grabbing laughs and staying focused on maintaining a strong comic tone throughout the whole film. Tashlin’s cartoon sensibility is also evident- the film is close to a live-action cartoon, with Hope’s head spinning in a whirlwind twenty years before The Exorcist offering only one example of the outlandish visuals on display throughout the movie. Tashlin excelled post Son using this heightened comic style, via his frequent partnership with Jerry Lewis, including possibly the two best Martin & Lewis offerings, Artists and Models and Hollywood or Bust and Lewis’ laugh-packed solo outings Who’s Minding the Store and The Disorderly Orderly as well as Jayne Mansfield’s two biggest onscreen hits, The Girl Can’t Help It and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?, but he possible never generated as many cleverly crafted visual gags in a film as what he does with Hope and company here. And, although he joked in the Road comedies and as the preeminent Oscar host during the 1950’s and 60’s about his lack of consideration for an actual Academy Award, I’ll take Hope’s self-depreciating, carefree Junior Potter with his rat-a-tat-tat delivery and sly asides over Gary Cooper’s somber, sincere Will Kane (even though Donald O’Connor would have to factor into the equation for his all-timer musical comedy work in Singin’ in the Rain). Unfortunately, then as it still largely holds true today, comedy isn’t valued in the same breath as drama, and the idea of the film or Hope scoring any major critical recognition for Son would’ve seemed as insane as DeMille’s entertaining-but-fairly-inane The Greatest Show on Earth winning Best Picture that year . . . on second thought, this would’ve been the PERFECT year to reward unassuming, laugh-inducing art in the form of one of Hope’s top performances.

Besides her robust figure and striking countenance, Jane Russell has the gift of appearing completely confident and relaxed onscreen, like you dropped in for a cup of coffee and she just happened to be filming a comedy in her living room. Russell has to be the most down-to-earth and accessible sexpot imaginable; although possessed of substantial va-va-voom, she’s more a wisecracking gal Friday than the personification of anyone’s femme fatale. This ease of comportment carries over into her singing style as well (a bit of trivia: Jane shows up in her costume from her introductory “Whig-Ding” number in the amusing finale of Road to Bali). Russell’s relaxed, highly likeable manner would get its biggest showcase the following year in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes; she makes it look effortless both here and in the later film, but I can’t imagine many other performers carrying off the musical comedy/siren routine and Russell’s killer, instinctual readings of good lines as adeptly.

    Making one of his few excursions into a major feature, Roy Rogers keeps pace with his formidable co-stars: his handsome, stoic demeanor provides an entertaining contrast to Hope’s lively smarminess and their choice exchanges, including a classic interchange concerning Roger's preference for horses over feminine charms, consistently provoke guffaws. Rogers is equally believable as a romantic interest for Russell- Rogers may be too noble a character to even kiss Russell in the film, but his chemistry with her is good enough that it had me forgetting who Russell ends up with. In addition, Tashlin adeptly ensures none of the stars of the film miss out on the fun by granting Roger’s trusty steed Trigger some of the biggest laughs in the film, especially when the cinema’s most talented horse ends up bunking with Hope in one of the film’s most memorable bits.

    The simple, upbeat musical score perfectly blends with the overall tone of the picture, and even when Rogers is serenading Russell with the lovely, slower tempo “California Rose,” the opportunity isn’t missed to finish the song with a great site gag as the jealous Hope enters the scene. “Am I In Love?” gained the film’s sole Oscar nod and is done as an amusing duet between Hope and Russell, while Rogers has one of his most amusing bits off-screen, with his rendition of “There’s a Cloud in My Valley of Sunshine” on the phonograph setting the tone for a dancing bit with Hope and Russell.

    In a case of how a movie's destiny often doesn't logically follow and play out as expected, it's interesting that even after being a big success during its initial run (according to Variety, Son ranked right behind High Noon at ninth for 1952 film rentals, and just ahead of no less than Singin’ in the Rain), this highly entertaining comedy never held on to much of a reputation. Here’s hoping there’s still a few drama teachers out there who fondly recall Hope and Tashlin’s lively shenanigans in one of the most amusing films from the 1950s, and pass on this comedy classic to groups of sure-to-be-entertained newcomers exposed to this peak in both artist’s careers.

Budd Boetticher Steers a Memorable Bullfighter

1951’s The Bullfighter and the Lady provides a rewarding cinematic experience, with director Budd Boetticher effectively conveying a vivid sense of time and place via on-location filming of this conventional yet (in Boetticher’s hands) diverting tale of a Chuck Regan, a young American who becomes fascinated by the world of bullfighting, primarily to win the heart of his lady fair, Anita. The film has been resorted to its intended 124-minute director’s cut on Olive's 2013 Blu-Ray release, after initially being shown at 87 minutes in order to fit on double bills. Although at two-hours-plus the movie’s standard plot devices, including romantic misunderstandings and reconciliations, the best friend/mentor who suffers in order to increase the hero’s nobility, and said hero’s 11^th-hour chance of redemption in the face of seemingly impossible adversity, become too obvious, the longer allows Boetticher the opportunity to build an impressive atmospheric tone centered around the Mexican locales and natives unusual in a studio production of the time (working at low-budget Republic possibly helped curb the Hollywood gloss and grant the proper verisimilitude to the film), while enabling key performers the benefit of adding a measure of complexity to their roles.

As Chuck Regan, Robert Stack found an ideal fusion of personality and role. Sporting blond locks and a sincere, personable demeanor, the Hollywood veteran (even in 1951, as Stack had mingled among tinsel town’s elite for several years before providing Deanna Durbin with her first onscreen kiss in 1939’s First Love) and reliably staunch leading man has perhaps his most indelible part, and is at the peak of his physical beauty besides; Stack is so perfectly handsome in Bullfighter it’s a bit ridiculous, and depressing to us mere mortals. Beyond looks and natural charm Stack, who was always a solid, workmanlike actor, clearly is striving to be fully vested in every scene. He’s focused, down-to-earth and professional, and has the audience on his side through each dilemma Chuck faces. Although Stack may not possess the emotional depth of a contemporary such as Montgomery Clift, his stoic remoteness in some close-ups actually proves an asset, adding an air of mystery and movie-star glamour to some key scenes as the viewer wonders what exactly is making the character tick behind his still, serene countenance. 

Although the clearly American Joy Page is nobody’s senorita as Anita and her part falls mainly in the “young ingénue” category, her earnestness matches up well with Stack’s, and Page’s often grave manner lends some individuality to her character (this trait also aided Page in her most famous role as the serious-minded young newlywed who wants to get out of Casablanca with her unlucky gambling husband) while also helping to convince this tougher-than-expected maiden might actually be able to withstand the irresistible Stack’s advances, at least momentarily. Gilbert Roland is a perfect fit as the  legendary matador Manolo Estrada, who learns skeet shooting from Chuck (not coincidently, Stack was a national champion in this sport) in exchange for teaching the novice the skills needed in the bullfighting ring. In one wonderful sequence superbly set up by Boetticher Estrada, with a group of young children on a wall behind him, watches Chuck practice; when the youngsters start cheering some of Chuck’s moves, Estrada turns and immediately silences them, then turns back with the satisfied look of a man in complete control of his environment, and Roland pulls the scene off with aplomb- here, as in his many sequences with Stack and real-life matadors in the bullring, he really does seem to be the master of this kingdom (Roland had studied bullfighting before beginning his lengthy acting career). 

Rounding out the cast are Virginia Grey and John Hubbard as the Floods, a theatrical couple who accompany Chuck to Mexico- as Lisbeth, the flirtatious wife with an eye for matadors, Grey attracts attention with her constantly-changing hair color; unless I’m imagining things she went from blond-to-brunette in every other scene, and these shifts prove interesting to watch, in any case. As Estrada’s devoted wife Chelo, Katy Jurado and her huge, baleful, beautiful eyes make a considerable impact a year before her breakthrough in High Noon. Boetticher gives Jurado a standout scene wherein Chelo chastises a heckler who’s berating the injured Estrada for not performing a pas de deux with a highly-agitated bull, thereby allowing Jurado to display the calm-yet-forceful presence that would serve her well in some of her subsequent Hollywood films (Jurado was somehow overlooked by the Academy for Noon, but would later score an Oscar nod for her work as another loyal, if more passive, wife in 1954’s Broken Lance). 

Guided by Boetticher’s adept hand (he also co-produced the film with John Wayne and co-wrote the story) and the fine work of an engaged and engaging cast, The Bullfighter and the Lady presents an involving narrative that incorporates many realistic, insightful touches illustrating the intricacies and challenges existing in an unusual profession; although I don’t care for any sport that harms man or animal, Bullfighter is an engrossing drama that holds up better than many a grade-A studio production of the era.