Walt Disney Flys High with the Magical, Diverting Peter Pan

 

Representing one of Walt Disney Studio’s most ingratiating flights of fancy, 1953’s Peter Pan provides an exhilarating adventure with themes relatable to the young and the young-at-heart. Focusing on one exciting incident after another in recreating J.M. Barrie’s enduring 1904 tale of the title figure, a boy who won’t grow up as he whisks a trio of London children off to Neverland one fateful night, directors Hamilton Luske, Clyde Geronimi and Wilfred Jackson hold audiences rapt with action-packed sequences and a rich comic flavor maintained thorough for the movie’s swift 77 minutes. One of the least pretentious of the Disney feature-length cartoons, Pan largely resists the temptation to lean on “cutesy” elements and personas, instead offering pure entertainment in a straightforward manner, wasting scant time in unfolding the fantastical storyline with creative vigor. With beautiful, artfully drawn animation, vibrant Technicolor and indelible portrayals of the famous Barrie characters by a cast of vocal talents truly engaged with their top assignments, Peter Pan allows viewers to be captured by a visionary world that could only be rendered via a group of top artists working at their imaginative best.

                As early as 1935 Disney initially expressed interest in adapting Pan for the screen, after starting the Walt Disney Studios in 1923 and first finding fame with the introduction of Mickey Mouse in 1928, then going on to win a passel of animated shorts Academy Awards in the 1930s. However, before Pan could reach the screen other passion projects, including 1937’s landmark Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the first feature-length cartoon, and quality follow-ups such as Pinocchio, Fantasia, Dumbo and Bambi as well as the onslaught of WWII halted Pan’s progress. With indifferent reaction to several post-Bambi undertakings, including 1951’s offbeat Alice in Wonderland, with 1950’s Cinderella the main entry hitting the bullseye with audiences during this experimental period, Disney must have understood the importance at this critical juncture of focusing on the release of a beloved family-friendly work that could appeal to the masses with maximum impact.

From the carefully staged intro to the film, wherein the Darlings, the family at the center of the scenario, are introduced in a clear manner that quickly establishes personality traits for each member, including Nana, the Darling’s loyal nursemaid dog, it’s evident Disney’s pulse is on the production, fostering the ultimate objective of making a smart, fast-paced, entertainment for young and old alike. With the aid of “Disney’s Nine Old Men,” animators who had toiled at the studio since the 1920s and 30s, with Ollie Johnson and Ward Kimball chief among them, a gorgeous feast for the eyes was also guaranteed, with lush layouts and expertly drawn characters (including distinct behavioral attributes for each) enabling the whole otherworldly enterprise to come alive onscreen with style, humor and intensity. Following Pan, Disney would remain the go-to symbol for prime family fare until his death in late 1966, via continued animation gems such as Lady and the Tramp, Sleeping Beauty and 101 Dalmatians, branching out into live-action films with 1954’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, followed by hits such as Old Yeller, The Shaggy Dog, The Absent-Minded Professor and the biggest one, 1964’s Mary Poppins and starting in 1954, via the debut of the long-running Disneyland television series, a year prior to the opening of the renowned theme park in Anaheim.

                Established Disney star Bobby Driscoll comes through in admirable fashion as the enlivening, free-spirited Pan. Previously scoring in Disney outings such as Song of the South and So Dear to My Heart before winning a special Juvenile Oscar for ace work in a engrossing film noir, The Window, then returning to Disney for the live-action Treasure Island, Driscoll fully inhabits the role of Pan with substantial brio, clearly delineating the mischievous nature of the sprite by lending plenty of energetic dash to his line readings, while also utilizing a touching innocence to show the good-hearted and sensitive aspects of Pan’s demeanor. Although the role had normally been played by a female prior to and (on stage, at least) subsequent to Disney’s version, Driscoll places his Pan among the most satisfying and beguiling portrayals of the pint-sized hero. As Pan’s constant sidekick, with nary a word spoken, Pan introduced one of Disney’s most lasting (and marketable) figures via Tinkerbell, the beautifully formed pixie with moxie, possessing a wealth of personality and temperament to go along with her curvy appeal, as she jealously attempts to guard Peter from Wendy with near-Fatal Attraction fervor. Despite her impish, often indignant behavior, Tinkerbell is so fully rendered a viewer is irresistibly drawn to the impish nymph, which allows the most serious and moving moment in the film to ring true, and an audience to side with Tinkerbell and pull for her ultimate well-being. 

                As Wendy Darling, the practical-but-dreamy young girl eager to experience the wonders of Neverland while also nurturing the Lost Boys therein as a mother figure, Kathyn Beaumont using her engaging, ultra-proper diction and spritely delivery to embody the confident miss with gratifying finesse. After starting out as a small child in films via 1944’s It Happened One Sunday, the London-born Beaumont would appear briefly in a few MGM films, including On an Island with You, before securing the plum role of Alice in Disney’s opulent 1951 retelling of the Lewis Carroll 1965 fantasy. Handling the role of Alice with precision and the apt amount of energy and willfulness informed Disney he had the right performer to put over Wendy with charm and strength. Beaumont keeps the character likably relatable throughout, with her honest, centered work making Wendy the main audience identification point. After this success Beamont would largely retreat from acting to focus on studies, eventually turning to a long-term teaching career as an adult.

Hans Conried, after over a decade lending his imposing voice and florid comic style to films and radio, witnessed a banner 1953, with career defining work both as a vain, sinister and buffoonish Captain Hook for the ages and, in a similar vein, the controlling, equally flamboyant, Dr. Terwilliker in the eye-catching The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, formed from the wildly original mind of Dr. Seuss. As Hook, Conried is clearly having a ball illustrating the character’s egomaniacal demeanor, obsession with taking down arch-nemesis Pan and, most theatrically, Hook’s abject fear of the ever-lurking crocodile responsible for his hooklike state after an earlier encounter. One eagerly awaits each appearance of the amusing croc, so colorful he actually breaks the fourth wall at one point, in order to witness Conried’s unrestricted, emotionally drenched delivery of the petrified Hook’s wail-ridden tirades as he runs amok in a quest to avoid his toothsome fate. Doing double duty, Conried also starts out the film with a deft study of the dramatic, agitated Mr. Darling. Following this peak year, Conried would continue to appear in films and television as a par excellence actor carrying his own particular technique into each role, until is 1982 passing at age 64.

In other roles Bill Thompson scores strongly as Smee, Hook’s always put-upon right-hand man. Thompson plays up the cartoonish aspects of his voice to heighten Smee’s consistently befuddled state, allowing him to remain likable and upbeat regardless of the nefarious activity he sometimes is subjected to via Hook’s orders. Tom Conway, with his cultivated tones, provides smooth narration, while Heather Angel, an established British plater with credits such as The Informer and Lifeboat to her credit, offers a warm, knowing portrait of Mrs. Darling, compassionate with her brood and understanding of her husband’s volatile nature. As Wendy’s younger brothers, the bespeckled, levelheaded John and Michael, the amiable toddler of the group, Paul Collins and Tommy Luske vocally match up very well with their choice assignments. In cameos, voice legend of many classic cartoons, June Foray and Margaret Kerry, who served as the model for Tinkerbell, pop up as flirtatious mermaids Peter and Wendy meet in Neverland.

                Released through RKO in February of 1953, Peter Pan proved an instant box-office success with the Baby Boomer generation and gained positive critical reaction, including a Newsweek cover story that heralded Disney’s latest triumph. During its initial run the film earned $7,000,000 in U.S./Canadian rentals, thereby landing at #5 among the top hits of the year (according to Variety’s yearly list for 1953). Subsequent releases has raised the film’s profits considerably to where Pan now ranks among the top money-making films of the 1950s, while other high-profile references to the movie such as the “Peter Pan’s Flight” ride at various Disneylands and Tinkerbell’s enduring  place as a top Disney mascot, specifically her launching of each episode of the long-running Disneyland television show, and a constant presence on various physical media formats over the past decades have allow the movie to stay relevant while gaining an abundance of fans with each new Disney-loving generation. The ongoing devotion to Peter Pan is warranted, as rarely was Disney and company able to intermesh all of the studio’s creative forces so perfectly, resulting in a timeless whimsical cinematic gem that brings out the adventure-seeking child in all viewers.

The Marx Brothers Ensure Chaos Reigns Supreme in the Peerless Duck Soup

 

                A frenetic, hilarious blend of mayhem featuring the four Marx Brothers at their most free-wheeling and irreverent, while also taking satirical pot shots at politics and war that remain timely over ninety years later, 1933’s Duck Soup from Paramount represents one of filmdom’s prime comedies, wherein the seemingly loose, go-for-broke style on constant display somehow manages to stay cohesive among the breeziest 69 minutes found in cinema. Director Leo McCarey deftly unfolds the ingenious script by Bery Kalmar and Harry Ruby (with additional dialogue from Nat Perrin and Arthur Sheekman) that cleverly adds amusing musical passages into the narrative concerning the land of Freedonia, overseen by the mischievous Rufus T. Firefly, who apparently has no qualms starting war at the drop of a hat. McCarey adeptly keeps the plot moving at an astoundingly fast pace, while allowing the brothers ample freedom to spontaneously put over their special brand of shenanigans in a manner unmatched elsewhere in their filmographies, aided by the supremely regal and game “Fifth Marx Brother,” Margaret Dumont.

                For McCarey, Duck Soup signaled an uptick in his burgeoning career as one of Hollywood’s most inventive directors, particularly in comedies. Starting out in the 1920’s as a writer/director of shorts, including working with and helping develop Laurel and Hardy, McCarey would smoothly transition into sound films, scoring a major hit just prior to Soup via the Eddie Cantor star vehicle The Kid from Spain. With the Marx Brothers, McCarey allows for a loose, apparently impromptu style that lets the team shine in one set piece after another, including Groucho and Harpo’s famous mirror image gag and Chico and Harpo’s run-ins with a progressively more exasperated vendor. The mirror scene is clearly carefully staged, but with the vendor and in other sequences, it’s hard to tell how much is worked out, and to what extent the boys just went impishly wild with comic inspiration. McCarey helms with admirable dexterity, keeping the madcap tone flowing throughout the movie with verve and consistency. McCarey would continue his swift rise with 1935’s The Ruggles of Red Gap, then hit a peak in 1937 with Oscar-winning work for The Awful Truth, a screwball classic and presenting the polar opposite via the dramatically profound Make Way for Tomorrow, before ending the decade with a well-regarded romantic comedy/drama, Love Affair. McCarey scored mightily in the 1940’s with two huge hits starring Bing Crosby, 1944’s Going My Way, with McCarey walking away with three Oscars for his efforts, and the follow-up, The Bells of St. Mary’s, with an unbeatable Crosby/Ingrid Bergman combo, before parring back on his output, but once again reaching large audiences with his beloved 1957 remake of Love Affair, An Affair to Remember.

                With a strong assist from their driven mother, Minnie, the Marx Brothers (initially including a fifth brother, Gummo) first made a name for themselves on the vaudeville stage during the 1910’s, before moving on to Broadway success in the 1920’s. At the end of the decade, a deal with Paramount Pictures saw them adapting their hits The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers to film with outstanding box-office the result, causing the team to make a shift to Hollywood. After two more hits, Monkey Business and Horse Feathers, the brothers found themselves on the cover of Time magazine as one of the biggest names in movies. Duck Soup should have represented the crowning glory it eventual became in their filmography, capturing the brothers at a peak after they had developed their perfectly-attuned performance skills before the camera, but the ingenuity unfolding onscreen in rapid-fire fashion would take years for the public to catch up to, although they did so adoringly when realizing the trove of comic treasures they’d missed out on by neglecting the tasty Soup upon the classic’s release.

                Groucho brings his unmatched comic sensibility to Soup, nimbly cavorting around the screen with disobedient sangfroid, while tossing out incredible quips so deftly one may find it necessary to re-watch Soup immediately after a screening to take in all the double entendres that were initially missed. Groucho adroitly offers a mixture of patent shtick (the rolling eyes and waggish eyebrows, his unmatched strut, breaking the fourth wall, etc.) with a seemingly effortless sense of capriciousness, which allows his free-wheeling performance to sustain an air of freshness and originality over 90 years after Soup’s release. Following the brothers reign at Paramount, then MGM, Groucho would find a huge new audience while dropping plenty of witticisms as the host of You Bet Your Life, starting on radio in 1947 before becoming one of early television’s biggest hits during its 1950-1961 run. Afterwards, Groucho would continue to bemuse the public with frequent appearances on t.v. talk and game shows, before passing in 1977 at 86.

                For Harpo, Soup also shows him at his zenith. With little pretense or chance for a musical instrumental solo to tame him, he goes about his business in a looser, more unrestricted manner than usual, leering away with gusto as he causes mass disorder regardless of the setting, leading to the peerless mirror scene wherein he stays in synch with Groucho with model precision to gain the utmost guffaws from immersed viewers. As his vocal co-conspirator who is working to unseat Firefly (at first) Chico is possibly seen to his best advantage during a cross-examination scene, wherein his pseudo-serious, perfectly-time play on words results in several of the movie’s best zingers. As the film’s faithful straight man, the handsome Zeppo is good-natured and professional, without his role as Firefly’s calm, reasonable secretary granting him many chances to shine in the uninhibited manner of his brothers.

As the affluent Mrs. Gloria Teasdale, the benefactress who only has eyes for Rufus, Margaret Dumont brings her invaluable gifts as one of the screen’s foremost straight ladies to her pairing with Groucho. With her regal bearing and dulcet tones (armed with an operatic background), Dumont serves as an ideal contrast to her leading man’s antics and suggestive, quick-witted one liners. First appearing opposite the Marx’s on Broadway in Cocoanuts and Crackers, Dumont rose to cinematic fame alongside the brothers when both stage successes were transferred to film. Groucho and Dumont’s fondness for each other is apparent, making them one of the most believable, if seemingly mismatched, couples in classic films, with Dumont’s dignity and class constantly at the mercy of Groucho’s leery advances and asides. Groucho often stated Dumont didn’t get the jokes thrown her way, but watching her with him, one can see the skill Dumont brought in maintaining a serious demeanor, but one not prone to bemusement when faced with Groucho’s latest untoward gesture- Dumont was clearly a grand talent who knew exactly how to interact with her free-spirted counterpoint. Appearing in a total of seven of the Marx’s pictures, Dumont would also occasionally stand out in other films, including Never Give a Sucker an Even Break opposite W.C. Fields, Up in Arms (Danny Kaye’s film debut), Bathing Beauty and her final role in 1964’s all-star What a Way to Go!, just before her passing in 1965 at 82.

With his imposing stature and deep, resonant voice, Louis Calhern makes an appropriately commanding impression as the assertive Ambassador of Sylvanna, who is at odds with Rufus over the affections of Mrs. Teasdale and anything else Firefly can think up to unnerve his foe. Calhern does a fine job outlining Trentino’s ever-increasing state of exasperation with each new conflict with Rufus, helping to make this running gag a source of constant amusement. As Vera, the siren whose plunging Pre-Code neckline raises the eyebrows of her costars and audience members, Raquel Torres brings the proper vixenish allure and energy to the part, to the extent a viewer wishes she could’ve ben put to more direct use with Groucho or his kin. Finally, as the vendor harassed by both Chico and (especially) Harpo, longtime character actor Edgar Kennedy, who started his film career at the dawn of cinema, works adeptly with his adversaries as they put over intricate physical comedy bits with relish.

                Duck Soup surprisingly failed to catch on with the public upon its November 1933 Depression era release, after the Marx Brothers had scored impressive box-office returns with their first four films, with the artful siblings, sans the underutilized Zeppo, witnessing a comeback and what at the time was regarded as a return to form after switching from Paramount to MGM for 1935’s merry A Night at the Opera, highlighted by its famous stateroom sequence. However, concerning Soup, continued interest in the team’s work, including frequent showings in revival houses and on television, caused a strong reevaluation of the film; today critical reassessment places this farcical masterpiece at the top of the Marx’s filmography (or near it, when factoring in a nod to Opera devotees or those holding a slight preference for one of the other earlier classics). Recent accolades include placement on the AFI’s 1998 and 2007 lists of the top 100 American films (at #85 and #60, respectively), coming in at a lofty #5 on the AFI 2000 “100 Laughs” list detailing the greatest American comedy films, seven spots above Opera’s also stellar showing and being included in the esteemed National Film Registry’s 1990 list of films for preservation. Anyone interested in swiftly gaining a maximum laugh quotient in limited time will benefit from watching one of cinema’s prime comedy teams put on possibly their greatest show of priceless anarchy via the uproarious Duck Soup.

Giulietta Masina Elevates Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria to Cinematic Greatness

 

                Stemming from the Italian Neorealism period which found great favor in the U.S. during the late 1940’s via such classics as Open City, Shoeshine and The Bicycle Thieves, Federico Fellini’s 1957 masterwork Nights of Cabiria offers one of the richest and most moving viewing experiences of any film. At turns funny, heartbreaking and profound, it relates the joys and setbacks of an optimistic, romantic Italian prostitute, Cabiria, intent breaking free from the ill repute associated with her career of choice and finding a better place in life. Following her day-to-day exploits, one becomes completely involved in Cabiria’s fate in a manner rarely seen in film. The character had originally appeared briefly in Fellini’s 1952 The White Sheik, and proved intriguing enough to warrant a full-length examination of the uniquely appealing heroine. Fellini’s wife Giulietta Masina originated the role in Sheik and had recently gained worldwide fame via her touching work in La Strada; in Cabiria she reaches her career peak, giving an unforgettable performance filled with grit, humor, vulnerability and hope that draws in an audience as they foster a protective bond with Cabiria throughout her every adventure and misadventure.

                For Fellini, Cabiria marked a high point in his early career, before his focus on fare with a more cosmopolitan and bizarre flavor, such as La Dolce Vita and 8 ½ rose to the forefront of his filmography. With Cabiria, Fellini adopts a more simplistic, naturalistic approach to the material, focusing on the free-spirited streetwalker in a series of seemingly non-related vignettes filmed on location at various Italian locales, which adds verisimilitude to the proceedings and helps draw a viewer into Cabiria’s world as she goes about her unconventional life. The trust and understanding Fellini shares with Masina in regards to the role are evident throughout the film, as their stellar teaming grants the viewer a full study of a warm, decent character considered an outcast by society but bravely maintaining a strong sense of self. depicting Along Fellini would go on to greater fame and accolades, Cabiria remains possibly his most humane, moving work, wherein his skill at depicting a complete portrait of individual at a specific time and place is at a peak; one feels Fellini’s fascination for the character and Masina’s artistry as Cabiria is delineated in sublime fashion. 

                Giulietta Masina had worked in films for over a decade prior to Cabiria, starting with a bit in Roberto Rossellini’s landmark Paisan in 1946. Honing her craft over the next several years led to a mammoth breakthrough as the tragicomic waif in La Strada, the success of which helped bring her and Fellini to the forefront of world cinema. Strada won a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar among many other awards and critical hosannas, with Masina’s moving work as the naïve heroine considered a major factor in the movie’s potent effect on viewers, leading some critics to draw comparisons of Masina to other renown artists in the tragicomic vein, specifically “The Tramp,” Charlie Chaplin. With this major accomplishment, it would be a significant task to have a reteaming of star and director create an even more effective vision, but Fellini and Masina surpassed all expectations with Cabiria, artfully building a rich, multi-faceted portrait of a heroine of individuality, spirit and strength.

Although compelling in Strada, there are times in this early Fellini masterwork wherein Masina is clearly playing up the comic and dramatic aspects of the role. With Cabiria, she fully embodies the character in a soulful, completely viable manner. The comedic and serious elements are still there and colorful, but always mesh believably with Cabiria’s unique, spirited persona. Rarely has a performer been so in touch with a character, and Masina beautifully and sensitively depicts each of Cabiria’s beguiling traits, culminating in one of the greatest and most impactful final moments in film, wherein Masina illustrates the indomitable nature of the human spirit with a brief, unforgettable smile at the camera that is both heartbreaking and inspiring; anyone feeling hopeless due to dire circumstances would do well to watch this beautifully-enacted scene and take heart in Cabiria’s unshakeable courage and endurance. Masina is also very funny and spontaneous in other key moments, such as dancing to a fare-thee-well in a nightclub, or bantering back-and-forth with other members of the world’s oldest profession, while registering as deeply humane in more thought-provoking sequences wherein Cabiria reflects on themes involving religion, faith and regret as they relate to her in her life and her sense of worth as she toils in her chosen field. After her eminent portrayal of possibly the screens’ most endearing lady of the night, Masina would continue in films through the sixties, including another substantial role in Fellini’s 1965 Juliet of the Spirits, before making a nice late-career impression in her husband’s 1986 comedy Fred and Ginger, as well as at the 1993 Oscars wherein Fellini received a special Oscar, and from the stage lovingly chastised Masina for crying in the audience.

Although Masina is aptly front-and-center throughout, several others manage to get an impression in edgewise. In an early comical sequence, the virile Amedeo Nazzari brings an air of machismo conceit to his role of Alberto Lazzari, a movie star who picks up an awed Cabiria on a whim after a falling out with his girlfriend. Franca Marzi is also formidable as Wanda, the tough, loyal roommate and colleague of Cabiria, who wants the best for her friend but is wary of Cabiria’s often unorthodox choices (with Marzi in the role, a viewer clearly grasps Wanda’s firm sense of reality and loving support for her friend, and one is grateful Cabiria has a figure so staunch in her life she can turn to when needed), while Aldo Silvani upholds a creepy presence as the wizard who puts Cabiria in an emotionally revealing trance late in the film. Finally, Francois Perier reads as both appealingly earnest and slightly and mysteriously tense as Oscar, the gentle suitor Cabiria meets late in the film, skillfully lending credence to the film’s extraordinary finale and, as with Masina’s seminal work, making it difficult for a viewer to forget Perier in this role when seeing him in other films.

                A big critical success upon its 1957 release, resulting in an Oscar win for Best Foreign Film, David di Donatello Direction and Producer awards for Fellini and Dino De Laurentiis, respectively, and Best Actress prizes for Masina from the Cannes and San Sebastián film festivals, Nights of Cabiria represented a triumph for all the creative forces behind and in front of the camera involved in making one of the cinema’s most significant and emotionally transcendent experiences. The reputation of Cabiria has only grown with time, with it now being regarding as one of the greatest films of Italian Cinema. The movie’s influence inspired the hit 1966 Broadway musical Sweet Charity, ambitiously transferred to the screen by Bob Fosse 1969 with Shirley MacLaine making a fine impact in the title role, and a successful 1998 re-release of Cabiria brought the film to a whole new audience, while including a sequence initially cut from the film. Further plaudits include placement in the National Society of Film Critic’s 2002 “Top 100 Essential Films of All Time” list (at #85) and the BBC’s 2018 list of “The 100 Greatest Foreign Language Films” list (at #87). At that 1998 re-release the author, who had previously only seen a dubbed version on television, was able to fully grasp the impact the original Cabiria can have on a rapt audience, as besides being immersed in the proceedings myself, I witnessed the powerful reaction of others who laughed and cried along with Masina as she beautifully conveyed one of Cinema’s greatest heroine’s every emotion with devastating potency, emphasizing a key reason why this masterpiece will endure in memory for any viewer lucky enough to encounter Cabiria’s singular charms via the introspective, droll, quirky and poignant work of Masina in one of Cinema’s truly imperishable performances.

Humphrey Bogart Finds Major Stardom on a Quest for The Maltese Falcon

 

                Constituting one of the earliest and greatest entries in the film noir genre, 1941’s The Maltese Falcon, writer/director’s John Huston’s sleek, class A adaptation of Dashiell Hammett’s renowned 1930 novel, offers the definitive example of a classic Warner Brothers’ crime drama. Starring Humphrey Bogart in an indelible, star-making role as tough, calculating detective Sam Spade and an irreplaceable cast of top players in some of their signature performances, the exciting Huston screenplay wisely adheres to Hammett’s deft source material and offers the prime cinematic version of the tale involving Spade’s risky encounters with a host of characters seeking possession of the title figure at any cost, after previous Warner attempts at bringing Falcon to the screen, including the same-named Pre-Code 1931 version and 1936’s Satan Met a Lady, failed to fully capture the rich, tense flavor of the novel. However, aided by Arthur Edeson beautiful black & white cinematography, which perfectly evokes a seamy atmosphere suitable to the often-foreboding San Francisco-set storyline, and Adolph Deutsch’s penetrating score, the 1941 version of Falcon grants viewers 101 stellar minutes of intrigue and fascination, as they follow the determined, fearless Spade on his hunt to uncover the mystery tied to the mysterious “black bird.”

                John Huston, already established as a top screenwriter with credits such as Jezebel, High Sierra, Dr. Ehrich’s Magic Bullet and Sergeant York (receiving Oscar nominations for the latter two), gh Sierraentered the directorial field with one of the best first efforts ever, as he artfully depicts all the themes and characters involved in Falcon in a focused, enthralling fashion. Although a novice, Huston appears to handle the material with complete confidence and ease, while allowing his sublime cast the freedom to act with individuality and style in creating their exceptional performances. Huston has a gift for simplicity in the way he unfolds the complex scenario, presenting each plot device and new personality straightforwardly, but in a way that further draws an audience in, as they ponder how events will play out with each element presented. Following this triumphant debut, Huston would go on to build one of the richest filmographies, in the process winning two Oscars for another classic with Bogart, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, besides helming The Asphalt Jungle, The African Queen, Moulin Rouge, Moby Dick and The Misfits, while also scoring as an actor with an Oscar nomination for 1963's The Cardinal and via his creation of one of the cinema’s most sinister villains, Noah Cross in Chinatown, then closing his esteemed directorial career with the one-two punch of Prizzi’s Honor and The Dead.

                For Humphrey Bogart, Falcon would secure his place among the Warner elite after High Sierra marked his first major 1941 cinematic breakthrough as a new kind of tough, uncompromising, yet identifiable and sympathetic male star. Starting on stage, Bogart’s success on Broadway would lead to a 1930 film debut, then a decade wherein he honed his craft, moving up to second leads and quality pictures, specifically after his huge impact as gangster Duke Mantee on stage and in the 1936 movie adaptation of The Petrified Forest, which led to other choice roles, often as the chief bad guy, in such “a” pictures as Marked Women, Angels with Dirty Faces, The Roaring Twenties and as against type as he would ever be as the Irish stable master in love with Bette Davis in Dark Victory. Conversely, Bogart was clearly in command and comfortable with of the art of screen acting with Falcon, wherein he provides the ideal portrait of anti-hero Spade, convincing viewers this no-nonsense detective has the willpower and intelligence to take on a bevy of unsavory criminals as he works to solve the plot’s key murder, while also discovering his adversaries plans surrounding obtaining possession of the Falcon. After his remarkable work in Falcon, Bogart would remain a vital force in films, with his imposing filmography growing to include such classics as Casablanca, starting a legendary teaming with Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not, with Huston again for, among others, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Key Largo (opposite Bacall), and his Oscar-winning work in The African Queen and thriving in the 1950s with In a Lonely Place, The Caine Mutiny, We’re No Angels and, just before his passing in 1957, ending his career in peak form via The Desperate Hours and the Harder They Fall, before going on in subsequent decades to become a classic movie icon/cult figure as new audiences discovered the depth of Bogart’s talent and the exceptional level of quality found in his film output.

Mary Astor was also witnessing a great 1941 with her skillful assaying of Falcon’s Brigid O’Shaughnessy, who serves as an early blueprint for the scores of femme fatales to dominate film noir, as well as going toe-to-toe with Bette Davis in The Great Lie, leading to an Astor Best Supporting Actress Oscar win in 1942. After becoming a star in her teens opposite John Barrymore in 1924’s Beau Brummel, Astor would further build her career in the 1930’s with top fare such as Red Dust, Dodsworth, The Hurricane and closing out the decade with the peerless 1939 comedy, Midnight. As Brigid, she expertly employs a breathless vocal quality and nervous quaver to Brigid’s questionable motives to keep audiences guessing exactly what her ultimate aims are, bringing a compelling dramatic intensity to the role that marks her portrait of Brigid as complex and definitive. She also works perfectly with Bogart, creating a strong sexual chemistry with him in an era wherein the Production Code prohibited overt carnal displays. Post-Falcon, after reuniting with Bogart and Huston for Across the Pacific, Astor would move mainly into mother roles (Meet Me in St. Louis, Little Women, etc.) via a beneficial association with MGM, while occasionally taking on a meaty character part with verve, such as her world-weary b-girl in 1948’s superior noir Act of Violence and ending her career on a high note with her crafty work as Jewel Mayhew, the holder of the key behind the mystery in 1964’s Hush. . .Hush, Sweet Charlotte, before a lengthy retirement, then passing in 1987 at 81.

After four decades on stage, Sydney Greenstreet made one of cinema’s most auspicious debuts as the mysterious Kasper Gutman, appropriately aka “The Fat Man.” Masterfully mixing a calm, jovial countenance with a sinister, controlling nature, by every giggle, leer and gesture Greenstreet conveys Gutman is capable of any dark, traitorous deed necessary to bring the falcon into his possession. Based on his spectacular Falcon debut, Greenstreet would go on to become a staple of 1940’s films, often in unscrupulous roles, including memorably giving Joan Crawford a run for her money as the diabolical sheriff in 1949’s Flamingo Road, one of his final roles. As Joel Cairo, his equally untrustworthy partner in crime, Peter Lorre nimbly illustrates the character’s slick, serene behavior during his initial encounters with Spade, before moving into juicier theatrics that Lorre handles like a rich feast once the plot complications develop. Elisha Cook, Jr., one of film noir’s most unfortunate losers, gets his career in this vein off with style as Wilmer Cook, Gutman’s would-be foreboding henchman and patsy. Lee Patrick brings some warmth and wit to the proceedings as Sam’s loyal, knowing secretary, Effie, while Jerome Cowan makes a brief strong impression as Miles Archer, Spade’s wayward partner. Gladys George adds further stature to an impeccable cast as Miles’ also-wayward wife, Ivy, while Barton MacLane and Ward Bond also on hand to build one of the most hallowed roster of players found in a Warner’s classic. Finally, Huston’s venerated actor father, Walter, shows up in a tiny but important part as Captain Jacoby, with Huston allegedly not revering dad’s talent, making him perform a falling-down bit countless times, until the senior Huston rued doing his son this “good luck” directorial favor.

                The Maltese Falcon’s reputation as a superior crime drama was evident from the start, with healthy box-office and fine reviews a result of the October 1941 release of the film. The National Board of Review cited both Astor and Bogart on their list of top performances of the year, and come Academy Award season Falcon placed nicely, gaining nominations for Best Picture, Huston’s top-notch screenplay, and a Supporting Actor nod for Greenstreet’s masterful debut. The lasting impact of Falcon as one of Classic Cinema’s peerless entries has been reflected with its placement as of the initial entries into the National Film Registry’s list of 25 films for preservation in 1989 and ranking on both the AFI’s 1998 (at #23) and 2007 (at #31) lists of the top 100 American films. With Huston’s fresh, fast-paced helming of his exciting script and a powerhouse cast at their peak, The Maltese Falcon remains a riveting watch for viewers interested in partaking of the web of intrigue brought about by the elusive title statue and those chasing after “the stuff that dreams are made of.” 

Natalie Wood Soulfully Resonates in the Poignant Splendor in the Grass

                   A probing, profound drama with an earnest depiction of how young romance can turn tragic with the Generation Gap interference so commonly shown in films of the period, 1961’s Splendor in the Grass offers one of the richest, most complex renderings in the coming-of-age film genre. Director Elia Kazan artfully mixes overblown theatrics with moments of great truth to serve up an impactful melodrama that anyone who has dealt with unrequited love, mental turmoil or family conflict will find engrossing. Utilizing a fine, perceptive William Inge original screenplay (based on events from Inge’s early years) Kazan crafts scenes of incredible emotional resonance, aided by an evocative, jazz-infused score by David Amram that manages to capture both the melancholic and sensational aspects of the story, depending the on scene, and a talented cast of players who bring individuality and intelligence to their roles, led by Natalie Wood, giving perhaps her finest, most dedicated and emotional-driven performance as Deanie Loomis, the teen who finds passion and turmoil disrupting her idyllic life in 1920’s Kansas.

                Elia Kazan appears fully engaged in vividly transferring the tumultuous opportunities Inge’s florid, moving story presents to the screen in all their highly emotive glory, showing his flair for making the ultra-dramatic believable and thrilling. Already a leading force in theater and film via previous work such as his directorial film debut via 1945’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Kazan had started his film career as an actor in 1940’s City of Conquest), the stage and screen workings of A Streetcar Named Desire and Best Director Oscars for 1947’s Gentlemen’s Agreement and a peak for Kazan and virtually everyone else involved, On the Waterfront, by the time of Splendor Kazan had honed his unique knack for drawing trenchant performances from entire casts. Using daring closeups throughout Splendor to reveal an array of moods and expressions that illustrates the depth and complexity of each skillfully crafted performance, Kazan allows his actors to seemingly work freely under his discerning eye, with nearly every cast member skillfully adding creativity and remarkable detail to their assignments, while interacting with each other in a convincing, deeply felt manner that enriches the relationships between a wide variety of types, creating electric, emotional scenes of devastating, visceral force that leaves a viewer in an overwhelmed state. After this lengthy period of sustained success, Kazan would produce his personal passion project America, America in 1963 before faring in less accomplished fashion with his final projects, ending with 1976’s The Last Tycoon. Kazan’s 1952 HUAC testimony, wherein he named names of possible communists and later painted himself as a noble figure for doing so, made it progressively difficult for some to separate his sublime achievements as an artist with his personal convictions, cumulating in a divided reaction to what should have been a late-career highlight, his 1998 honorary Oscar, bestowed a few years before Kazan’s death in 2003 at 94.

                For Natalie Wood, Splendor would mark an important career transition, from young ingenue to a full-fledged star capable of bringing impressive dramatic finesse to roles, while also adding ample box-office appeal to her films. Of Russian descent, Wood was discovered at four in her hometown of Santa Rosa, with a 1943 film debut in director Irving Pichel’s The Moon is Down. With encouragement from Pichel, Wood soon moved up to place among the most notable child actors after standout work opposite Orson Welles and Claudette Colbert for Tomorrow is Forever and her most famous role from the period as Susie in the Christmas perennial The Miracle on 34^th Street. Wood would largely avoid the awkwardness that put paid to many child stars once puberty hits, blossoming into a lovely while proving her dramatic credentials via Oscar-nominated work in the ultimate teen-oriented classic, as Judy in 1955’s Rebel Without a Cause, from Warner Bros. Her focused work, including a spellbinding introduction scene at a police station wherein Judy breaks down in hysterics while relating her at-home conflicts and fine chemistry opposite James Dean and Sal Mineo, led to several years as Warner Bros. preeminent young leading lady, with the choice title role in the screen adaptation of one of the 1950’s bestsellers, Majorie Morningstar, perhaps the highlight of this era, although Wood’s brief appearance in 1956’s The Searchers allowed her entry into yet another all-time classic.

                By 1961 Wood was looking to add prestige to her resume after a series of standard fare and, as with Rebel, worked hard to convince her director she was the right talent to enact a complex, demanding part. She is unforgettable as Deanie, particularly in several electrifying moments wherein the disturbed teen becomes unhinged due to the breakup of her bond with her soulmate, Bud Stamper, the rich high school star athlete bound for Yale, personified by a never dreamier Warren Beatty in his film debut. Wood could sometimes come across onscreen as rehearsed and too actorly, but she had an incredible gift for fearlessly throwing herself into emotionally driven scenes, which she does in Splendor with unabashed force, detailing Deanie’s agony and hopelessness to shattering effect. This is evident in her most famous scene, wherein she breaks down in the bathtub, but she’s at least as potent in the touching classroom passage wherein she is asked to recite the Wordsworth poem responsible for the film’s title, or in a later reunion with Bud at a dance, wherein Deanie cannot except their parting. Wood handles Deanie’s rich character arch, including a thought-provoking finale, with a maturity, skill and persuasion rarely seen in film, allowing Deanie to stand out as possibly the most indelible work found in a substantial filmography, with West Side Story (wherein Wood again lends a lot dramatic weight to the movie’s devastating ending) immediately following, then continuing through the 1960’s with Gypsy, Oscar-nominated work in a great teaming with Steve McQueen in Love with the Proper Stranger, trying her hand at large-scale comedy in The Great Race, before ending the decade with one of her biggest financial and critic successes, Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice. A less fruitful 1970’s period, wherein Wood focused more on family life after the birth of her daughter, with Wood ending her career via the intriguing Brainstorm, released posthumously after her death in 1981 at the tender age of 43.

                Warren Beatty made a quick rise to the top of Hollywood’s young talent with his acute, contemplative work as the sensitive Bud. Scoring in Inge’s A Loss of Roses on Broadway and on television in The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis prior to Splendor, Beatty’s beatific countenance and intelligent playing of the troubled Bud brought him instant stardom and respect as a performer owning a unique presence and acumen onscreen. Although Beatty’s methodical, thoughtful approach to the role comes across as a bit stylized at times, it also allows Beatty to ring true in powerful moments as Bud silently yet forcefully reacts to some of the indignities he faces, making it clear to the audience Bud is wise to some elder’s ulterior motives. He and Wood also create one of the most painstaking illustrations of the sensuality and anguish that can accompany young love, with viewers firmly on Bud and Deanie’s side as obstacles hinder their happiness. Beatty immediately showed his diversity as an actor by following Splendor with sly work as the young Italian gigolo who catches Vivien Leigh’s eye in The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone then, after a few years finding his footing onscreen, broke through with a string of influential (and usually smash hit level) work, starting with 1967’s Bonnie and Clyde, then followed by McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Shampoo, Heaven Can Wait and, after several nominations in various categories as actor, writer, producer and director, a Best Director Oscar for Reds. Beatty would score several more successes with Dick Tracy, Bugsy (wherein he met his wife, costar Annette Bening) and Bulworth, in a lively performance of fine comic brio as a rappin’ politician, while also suffering the barbs brought about by Ishtar, an all-time flop, before cutting back on his film output as he settled down with Bening to raise a family.

Heading the supporting players, Pat Hingle and Audrey Christie bring color and perception to their playing of meddlesome parents, Bud’s bombastic father Ace, determined to exert firm control over all aspects of his son’s life, and Frieda Loomis, Deanie’s well-meaning but invasive mother, focused on sexual issues and terrified Deanie will be “spoiled” in Bud’s amorous embrace. Although caricature elements of the overbearing parent often found in these dramas exist in both roles (especially Ace), Hingle adds dimension to the restlessness that is driving Ace to control Bud and influence what he thinks is best for his son, while Christie is given a more humane character arch then normally found in parts of this ilk, allowing the viewer to feel compassion for Mrs. Loomis by the movie’s end. Coming across in a more uncomplicated, likeable manner is Joanna Roos as Bud’s nervous-yet-kindly mother and Fred Stewart, who as Deanie’s warm, understated father, has a couple very moving moments wherein the normally quiet and seemingly ineffectual man shows he is fully aware of his daughter’s plight, and is supportive of any measure that will help her recover.

As Bud’s free-wheeling, rebellious sister Ginny, Barbara Loden adds spontaneity and edginess to her portrayal, making one believe this bold young lady has the proper tenacity to go toe-to-toe with her tough, disapproving father and seek her own path in life, abet in reckless fashion. Loden, already a veteran of stage and television who made her film debut the previous year in Kazan’s Wild River, scores strongest in one of the film’s bravura sequences centered around a New Year’s Eve party wherein a tipsy Ginny goes off the rails and entices a bevy of men well aware of her “bad girl” reputation. It’s unsettling to watch as the men move in on her, and Loden perfectly expresses the wide range of emotions, from Ginny’s initial gaiety as the New Year is rung in, to confusion over an encounter with her father, to throwing herself into the arms of randy suitors, to breaking down with regret over the encounter. After Splendor Loden, in Marilyn Monroe mode, would go on to score a Tony on Broadway in Kazan’s (whom she eventually married) production of Arthur Miller’s After the Fall, then create a small but important niche for herself as a landmark female writer/director with her thought-provoking 1970 drama Wanda, with Loden in the title role, then direct a couple of shorts (appearing in one of them) before her untimely death at 48 in 1980.

Rounding out the incredible cast, Zorna Lambert makes a wonderfully natural impression late in the film as Angelina, the kind young woman Bud turns to at a critical point. Sandy Dennis makes a nice film debut as Kay, a school chum of Deanie and Bud, giving viewers a chance to see her singular acting style in its earliest form. Gary Lockwood, several years before his most famous role in 2001, adds the right amount of smarminess to “Toots,” Bud’s football colleague and friend with designs on Deanie, while Jan Norris comes across as both friendly and a bit spiteful as Juantia, the school’s most free-spirited, provocative date, who flirts in an unashamed, liberated manner with Bud, and boys in general. Martine Bartlett as the spinsterish but also romantic teacher also does first-rate work, while Crystal Field and Marla Adams are given a nice opportunity to shine as Hazel and June, two of Deanie’s most loyal friends. Inge impresses onscreen in a couple brief moments, lending a reflective, melancholic tone as Reverend Whitman, from whom Deanie seeks guidance. Finally, out of nowhere Phyliss Diller shows up in her film debut to add a welcome bit of levity to the proceedings, appearing as Texas Guinan in a nightclub sequence.

Splendor in the Grass was met with some highly favorable reactions by critics, especially Newsweek, who named the film the best of the year among some worthy competition (The Hustler, West Side Story, Guns of Navarone etc.), while the New York Times also placed the stirring drama among its list of top ten films. Kazan was included among the initial candidates for the Director’s Guild of America prize, while the film, Beatty and Wood were nominated at the Globes, with Beatty also winning a Globe for Most Promising Newcomer. At the Academy Awards, Inge ensured the film a place in the annals of film history as an Oscar-winning classic with his victory for Best Original Screenplay while Wood, considered a frontrunner, probably came closest to ever winning one for her affecting work as Deanie, losing to Sophia Loren for her also-histrionically vivid work in Two Women. The movie also made a distinct impression on 1961 audiences after its October release, becoming a popular box-office venture for viewers desiring an incisive, lush look at the many facets involved in a burgeoning romance. The compelling drama has lingered as an important cinematic work, inspiring a 1981 television remark and placing on the AFI list of the 100 greatest love stories, while gathering new generations of fans with physical media releases and showings on TCM and elsewhere. With grade-A work across the board, specifically the unforgettable presence of Natalie Wood at her most fragile and nakedly impassioned, Splendor in the Grass remains one of Hollywood’s most relatable, intense and heart-rendering takes on young love, and is sure to provide a deeply-felt experience for viewers willing to follow the distressing-yet-telling story of Deanie and Bud as they search for unity and peace circa 1920’s Kansas.

                A recent showing at TCM Film Festival, wherein a new, pristine print of Splendor in the Grass was shown, confirmed the heartbreaking classic has lost none of its ability to profoundly move and pull honest tears from audiences. Prior to the screening, elegant TCM host Alicia Malone hosted and excellent Q&A with Natalie’s daughter, Natasha Gregson Wagner, and her granddaughter, Clover, both of whom bear a striking resemble to the film icon, wherein Ms. Wagner spoke of first seeing the film as a teen in a high school film class, and wondering over her mother’s exceptional performance, while the composed pre-teen Clover mentioned she was excited to see the film for the first time and, when prompted, mentioned she was interested in trying her luck as an actress. Judging by her heritage, Clover should be rolling in her namesake in films if she chooses to take part in the family business.